#going to discuss trying meds out again after many bad past reactions

[the-forest-library]

.

#going to a new psychiatrist today #going to discuss trying meds out again after many bad past reactions #turns out unmedicated #adhd anxiety and depression are not ideal #who knew? #could use good vibes

[yourmidnightlover]

lost my everything

Summary- while revealing something to spencer, you confess something during the process. he didn't know how to react, which led to a terrible accident in which he might lose you forever.

TW: talk abt mental and physical abuse, alluding to death, talk about self-harm, SAD ENDING

WC- 3,152

a/n - please don't read if you're sensitive to self-harm or talk about emotional and physical abuse because reader goes into discussion about these things. i care about you and your safety so if you need to talk about anything please seek help or my inbox is always open! you are loved and you are needed <3

masterlist

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one thing about being the youngest member of the team meant that the second-youngest member was drawn to you.

that second youngest member happened to be spencer reid.

you had just had another paperwork day today since you got back from one the night previous. you were currently in the conference room discussing the case before we got off-topic, curtesy of spencer's coffee problem.

"i might have a slight problem with my coffee addiction, but there are many studies that go to show the benefits of drinking coffee. supposedly, drinking coffee could extend your life period, strengthen your liver, increase your body's glucose production, and even-"

"okay, that's all for today guys. go home and get rest before a case comes in," hotch interjected and warned.

you placed your hand on spencer's arm, this time underneath the table, as his face began to fall from disappointment. he turned to face and gave a tight-lipped grin before you removed my hand and we both stood up.

"so, spence, my place or yours for the doctor who marathon this time?" you said as he grabbed his bag from his desk.

"we went to mine last, so we can just go to yours this time," he said with his natural pep back. "besides, i kinda like your apartment better," he shrugged with another wide smile.

"clearly you do," you joked. "you almost always say my place," you laughed as you both joined jj. pen, and emily in the elevator.

"hey, y/n, would you wanna go to o'kiefs with us tonight?" jj offered kindly.

"already got plans. maybe next time!" you said with a smile, turning back to see spencer wearing the same smile on your face.

honestly, you and spencer have gone to the bar with the team a few times. you weren't opposed to going with them, you just knew that going meant everyone would pressure you to drink alcohol.

last time, you had succumbed to peer pressure. spencer had to drive you home and hold your hair as you puked into the toilet, it was a very good bonding experience. you didn't remember much, but you do remember you convinced him to stay the night, although he did end up sleeping on the couch rather than in the bed with you.

"after last time, i don't blame you, y/l/n," emily laughed out, giving a concerned look recalling the memories flooding her mind.

"next time we won't pressure you so much!" penny consoled. "i didn't know how much you meant it when you said you can't handle your alcohol," she winced.

"yea... i really meant it," you laughed out, trying to shed some light on the subject. the elevator opened, allowing you to go your separate ways for the night. "have fun you guys!" you called as you walked to your car with spencer.

spencer and you have been carpooling to work ever since you learned he took the metro to work and only lived a couple blocks from your apartment complex. you couldn't stand the thought of something bad happening to him while on the train, so you've offered to give him a ride there and back ever since.

in return, spencer insisted on paying for daily coffee runs for the two of you. it was his way 'of returning the fuel money in another type of fuel.'

you and spencer crawled into the car and began the drive back to your place. it wasn't too long to your place, only a 20-minute drive, but being with spencer made it feel like half that.

"do you even remember what happened the last time you went to the bar with them?" spencer laughed.

"not exactly..." you grimaced. "just that you took me home, there was a bit of puking, and i coerced you to stay the night. and you slept on the couch, which is absolutely ridiculous! i mean, i was the one who practically made you stay, so shouldn't i have slept on the couch? it's not like we haven't slept in the same bed before," you ranted.

"you're right, we have slept in the same bed before," he clarified. "but each time we did that you weren't drunk out of your mind," he sassed.

"ha-ha, spence," you mocked. "i did say i couldn't handle my alcohol. is there anything you wanna fill me in on?"

truthfully, yes.

there was something he wanted to fill you in on.

he wanted to tell you how you confessed your past to him.

he wanted to tell you how you kissed him right after...

and he kissed you back.

he could still remember the way your lips tasted, still covered by the vodka from the shots you took hours before.

but he didn't want you to think less of him since he kissed you back.

he just couldn't help it.

he'd been helplessly in love with you for so long, yearning to be with you as more than friends... as more than what he thought you wanted. but that kiss was his hope.

it was hope that maybe you felt a fraction of the chemistry he did. it was hope that maybe even if you didn't like him, you still had an attraction towards him in some kind of way. it was hope that maybe you would grow those same feelings for him.

but no matter how much 'hope' that kiss gave him, he shouldn't have kissed you back. he knew how vulnerable you were by telling him about your history of abuse.

you told him about your parents. about how they would throw you around when they were high, or drunk, or both. you told him about how they would call you worthless, a whore, stupid, good-for-nothing, basically every name in the book. but you didn't tell him about how you coped with the abuse.

so, when he told you how amazing you are to be able to turn your life around how you did, and how beautiful you are and always have been, you couldn't help but embrace him with a kiss.

you kissed him.

and he kissed you.

in a wonderful, vulnerable moment, he kissed you back as he'd always wanted to each night you spent with each other.

"nope," he shook his head. "nothing to fill you in on."

"i guess that's good," you shrugged.

he also wanted to know if you'd ever tell him about what happened when you were in your right mind. he wanted to know that you trusted him with your darkest secret that you accidentally already spilled to him.

although, maybe you should know about what you admitted to him. it was your life, after all. it was your past that you revealed to him in a simple drunken mistake.

"actually..." spencer started, taking a deep breath as he looked into your eyes. "you did mention something."

"okay... what'd i mention?" you wondered.

"you told me about..." he tried to find the right words to say. "about your parents."

"oh...?" you began to realize what you had admitted to him that very night, still not remembering the events that followed. "i didn't want you to find out like that..." you trailed off.

"i figured you didn't," he gave a small grin. you looked over at him hesitantly.

you thought about all the ways you could react to this. you could block him out and act like it was his fault you drunkenly confessed your past. you could ignore the fact that you told him at all and just move on, burrowing all the emotions inside of you once again. or, you could try to finally move on from what happened and how you coped with it by talking to spencer about it.

"when we get to my place, would you mind if we held off on the marathon? i should probably elaborate a bit more," you asked meekly.

"of course we can. we can do whatever you want tonight, y/n," he soothed, placing a hand on your lower thigh comfortingly.

you drove back to your place in silence, the both of you anticipating the conversation awaiting you.

when you finally entered your apartment, you both shed your coats by the door, hanging them on the hook, placed your guns and badged on the table beside the hook, and sat down on the couch comfortably. you crossed your legs, your knee up in the air, as spencer sat down with his knee touching the one still on the couch.

"so... how much did i say?" you asked curiously.

"you talked about the emotional and physical abuse, but nothing too in depth," he confirmed.

"when i was young, about 12, my parents got into a minor car accident," you began telling him about your past, trying to recall the memories with little hurt or pain. "they weren't at fault, it was a drunk teenager, but they each got addicted to their pain meds from the hospital. i would be asleep when they would come home from a night out, drunk and high out of their minds. i remember the first night it happened. i wandered in the living room, curious of what the ruckus was, and was greeted by my dad's hand slapping me across my face," you chuckled humorlessly, not knowing what other reaction was appropriate.

"he told me i shouldn't have been up or seen what they were doing. he was furious," you furrowed your brows as tears began to well in your eyes at the memory as spencer gingerly placed his hand comfortingly on your knee, scooting a tad bit closer to you. "after that night it became almost a pattern of his. he would come home and then get upset from his high coming down, and take it out on me. my mom just laughed and watched as he would hit me."

"eventually, they started just belittling me. they would say i was a coward for not standing up for myself. they would say i was stupid, or worthless. they especially liked to call me 'a waste of space,' i think that one was their favorite," you took a shaky, deep breath as you knew you were about to reveal for the first time to anyone what you would do to cope with the abuse.

"eventually i started to believe them. i started to believe the things they said about me. i thought i truly was an ugly, undeserving, piece of garbage," you turned to see spencer's eyes full of tears, mirroring your own. "i would self-harm because i believed them. each night after they were done with their own abuse, i felt so... frustrated. the only way i could get that frustration out was to do that. the scars are still there, taunting me of how weak i was to not just endure the pain," you finished.

you didn't even realize tears were streaming down your eyes until you noticed the few on spencer's cheek. he reached his hand up to wipe the tears on your face, ignoring that of his own.

"you aren't weak, y/n. you are unbelievably strong for getting through that. you have to know how amazing you are," he told you, demanding you to see you the way he saw you.

because the way he saw you, you were beyond perfect. you were so much stronger for going through that. if anything, knowing you went through that made him think you were that much more amazing.

and honestly, the way you were thinking is that when you told spencer, he might think less of you. he might think you were dumb for doing that to yourself, inflicting pain upon your own body to relieve yourself of pain.

that was anything but true.

"s-so you don't think any less of me?" you asked confused, looking into his eyes for any tells of his lying.

"absolutely not. if anything i think you're stronger now that i know what you've endured," he assured you, moving a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he moved even closer to you.

"thank you so much, spencer," you said as you lunged forward, your arms immediately pulling him closer around his neck into a hug.

"you don't need to thank me, y/n," he started as he rubbed circles in your back soothingly. "if it helps anything at all... i think your amazing. i always have, and i always will."

"spencer..." you pulled back and looked into his eyes. "just... i need to tell you one more thing."

"alright," he nodded, prompting you to continue.

"i uhm, i'm in love with you," you bit your lip in anticipation for his response.

he didn't say anything.

he couldn't say anything.

he wanted to say something, but he didn't know how.

he didn't even know if you actually said that, or if you were just a figment of his imagination.

because at this point, he felt so much more for you than love.

he was infatuated with you.

but you read it as rejection, so you quickly unhinged your arms from around his neck and retreated into a ball while on the couch.

"i-i'm sorry," you said after quickly realizing the reality of the situation.

he didn't feel the same.

"you d-don't need to say it back. i shouldn't have sprung that on you. i-i've just felt that way for so long, and i thought that maybe you did too, but i shouldn't have assumed anything. i'm so sorry," you looked at him, waiting for him to say anything. to admit anything.

"oh god, and i just spilled everything to you," you ran your hand through your hair.

silence.

"i think i need to go for a walk," you said, getting up from the couch and rushing out the door after grabbing your coat.

you opted for taking the stairs to run outside, being the quickest option.

spencer was speechless, still sitting on your couch, dumbfounded.

he was overwhelmed with emotions.

you loved him?

he couldn't believe that someone so smart, so beautiful, so kind, so funny, so... everything would ever love him.

and he was too late to say it back.

he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that you loved him, so he just sat there in awe of this revelation.

by the time he realized what you had said, and was ready to say it back, you were already out of the door and down the stairs.

you were walking all too fast with tears flooding your eyesight.

you had just lost the one person you loved the most. the one person who's always there for you. the only person you've felt a connection with. you lost your everything.

by the time spencer ran down the stairs in an attempt to chase you, you were nowhere to be found. he could always call your cell, but he wanted to admit his undying love and affection in person, not over some dumb cellular device.

you didn't know where you were going, just letting your feet take you wherever they pleased. it had been a bit cold and you had left everything at your place, so you began rubbing your arms in search for more friction.

you were walking around a corner when you were pulled into an alley by some random white guy. with a harsh hand on your arm, you whined out quietly from the sudden pain.

you didn't have your gun.

"money! NOW!" he demanded. you stayed there with tears in your eyes, too emotional to speak.

your wallet was back at the house.

"are you too dumb to speak? i said MONEY!" he said, pushing a gun you were now made aware of into your stomach.

"i-i don't have my wallet," you admitted with a shaky voice, tears now streaming down your face faster than before.

the night was supposed to be another night with spencer, watching your favorite show and being with your favorite person. you were supposed to be cuddled up on his couch, probably falling asleep in his arms by now.

and now you were being mugged and were probably going to get hurt in one way or another.

"and why is that, doll?" he pushed the gun further into your lower stomach .

"i-i was in a r-rush. i s-swear i d-don't have anyth-thing!" you stuttered, trying to convince him to let you go.

"too bad... you've already seen my face. let's hope you have a nice nap," he growled before pulling the trigger, a bullet running through your lower stomach.

spencer was near you when the bullet went off. he was walking home.

you didn't even realize it, but you were walking in the direction of your love's own home when you were ambushed.

he heard the gun go off.

he naturally ran into the alley with his gun raised, ready to fire at anyone fleeing the scene. he managed to take the guy down with a single bullet before realizing it was you who was shot.

he quickly grabbed his phone and dialed 911 and demanded an ambulance at the corner of 5th and maine, alerting them that an agent was down.

"Y/N!" he yelled, running to kneel beside your limp body. "please, no..." he pleaded.

he put his hand to your neck in an attempt to find any pulse. there was a weak one. there was that hope again. he pulled you onto his lap, your body now resting atop his.

"stay with me. i-i didn't get to tell you how i felt," he cried as he put pressure on where the blood was coming out.

"sp-spencer?" you asked, barely regaining consciousness.

"it's me, y/n. i'm here," he soothed, running a hand through your hair to move it from your face.

"i'm s-s-sorry," you choked out, feeling your eyelids become heavier by the second.

"no. don't apologize to me," he told you. "i should be apologizing."

"it's n-not... your... fault," you felt your breath coming slower, the weight on your chest becoming unbearable.

"i-if i would've just told you how i felt..." he began thinking about how horrible a mistake he had made.

sirens were nearing, hope was becoming greater. spencer clung to your body tighter than ever as if holding you closer to him would will your heart to beat stronger, even if it was for just a bit longer.

"i-i..." you took another uneven breath, reaching your hand up slowly to wipe a tear from his face. "lo-love..." another breath. "you," you finished, your hand cascading down from his face and falling limp onto spencer’s lap, now accepting your own fate as the ambulance was now right outside the alley.

there was a moment when spencer thought maybe you’d wake up. you’d come back to him. but once they loaded you into the ambulance he had to accept one thing.

he had lost his everything...

@averyhotchner @greenprisca @muffin-cup

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer x y/n #spencer x reader #sad ending

[whump-a-la-mode]

Villainsicle | Part 13

I know it’s been a while, and if I’m being completely honest, I really ran out of steam on this story for a while. But, we’re back! If you’re new to my blog and are interested in this story, all of the parts up to this one can be found linked in my pinned info post.

Thank you guys so much for all your support of this series so far! I hope you enjoy this part, too!

Taglist:

@whatwhumpcomments

@sola-whumping

@professional-idiocy

@trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room

@literally-just-kirby​

@the-polari-person

@teachunks

@daydreamed-snippets-2nd-blog

@sunflower1000

@lightdrinker-blog

@regalwritten

CW//Mentions of bathing, restraints, drugs, dehumanization, conspiracies, collars, talk of diseases, talk of falling, Stockholm syndrome, affectionate caretaker, conditioned whumpee

After their bath, Villain rested.

It wasn’t exactly how Counselor had imagined the whole affair going. Villain had already spent so many days resting, laid up in that same bed, but once they were clean and settled into fresh clothes, they had requested nothing except to be able to return to sleep.

They supposed it wasn’t entirely unexpected. While the bath hadn’t exactly been physically exerting, there had been several instances during it that Villain had nearly burst out in tears. Whatever was going through their mind, it was undeniably intense-- and that wasn’t even mentioning the heavy dose of sedatives coursing through their system.

And, thus, Villain slept. They were unconscious almost immediately upon hitting the mattress.

This time, however, there was no nervous twitching to accompany their unconsciousness. Instead, for the first time, their face showed a perfectly placid expression.

Taking care not to wake the sleeping patient, Counselor draped a fleece blanket overtop of them, tucking its edges in around their shoulders. They twitched, but did not awake. A moment later, they buried their face in the fabric.

Counselor had never before imagined that Villain was even capable of existing in such a calm state. Yet, here they were, looking for all the world as though not even an earthquake could wake them up.

Their gaze flicked to the bedrails. Upon returning to their bed, Villain had not so much as seemed to note the leather-and-foam restraints hanging there.

Yet, Counselor could not draw their gaze away from them.

Villain had been staying in the base for weeks, phasing through various states of aggression and fear and sickness and, on rare occasions, hesitant happiness. But, even after all that time, no one truly knew anything about them.

At least, Counselor knew nothing about them. Based on the way Leader and Medic’s expressions twisted when the prisoner was mentioned, it was clear that the both of them knew more than they were letting on-- but neither was keen to admit as to such.

Maybe Hero had had more luck on this information gathering mission.

But how much information was there really to gather? Officially, Villain had simply appeared on stage a few months ago, alongside two unknowns. More or less, they had acted just as any other villain did.

The other villains, however, had motives. Backstories. They were following orders.

Villain... If anyone on the outside cared about them, they had yet to risk any sort of jailbreak.

There was more to this than the official story, Counselor knew that full well. How much more... as to that, they had no idea.

But they had no need to rely on second hand accounts and official reports to know what Villain was. That much was obvious. They were a villain. Whatever their backstory, whatever their past, they were dangerous.

Right?

Counselor’s gaze drifted back to those restraints. Those simple straps, dangling from a metal bedframe.

At some point, Villain may have been dangerous. But not right now. Right now, they needed help, and that was exactly what Counselor was going to give them.

And, if they wanted that plan to go anywhere, they would have to start with the doctor who harmed their own patient.

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This time, when Medic answered the knocking on their door, their glasses were on the right way around. They blinked a few times, rubbing their eyes, hardly noting as the piping hot cup of coffee was pushed into their hands.

The doctor glanced down at the beverage before looking back up to meet their visitor’s gaze.

“I thought you wanted me to sleep.”

“Well, that was before. For now, we need to talk.”

“If this is decaf again, I swear I’m going to strangle you.”

“It’s not. Though the same threat applies to you if you try to go back to the med bay.”

“I’m a doctor. In fact, I’m our only doctor.”

“I’m a doctor, too.”

“Psychology doesn’t count.”

“Fair enough.”

“If we’re done threatening each other, then, would you care to, I don’t know, tell me why you’re bothering me?”

“As I said, we need to talk.”

“Do I even need to ask what about?”

“I think you already know that. Come on. You have your coffee, so there’s no excuses.”

“You really think I’m going to be that penitent about this?”

“Maybe.”

Medic rolled their eyes, but did not protest any further as Counselor turned and walked off. The two moved to a rather isolated table, tucked away in the corner of a hallway. The cafeteria was far too crowded at the moment to host such a discussion.

On opposite sides of the table, the opposites sat. Two cups of coffee clinked down on the wooden surface.

Counselor took a sip of their drink, placing the cup back down and raising their gaze. Medic frowned, lips turning downwards even further than usual.

“What, are we planning on talking through telepathy or- Come on, Counselor, stop looking at me like that. I hate that.”

“Then are you going to say anything?”

“I can’t read your mind.”

“You said you knew what this was about.”

“Maybe.” Medic shrugged dismissively. The doctor had been horribly standoffish, ever since Villain had been captured. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to start trying to guess your thoughts.”

Counselor took another sip.

“Fine, then. I can start.” Sip. Clink. “Villain told me something very interesting, earlier.”

“You really believe them?”

“I haven’t even said it yet.”

“Then stop wasting time, maybe.”

“Villain says that you’re making them sick.”

Medic’s brows furrowed.

“That’s what they said?”

“Pretty much verbatim, yes.”

“Well.” Medic took a hesitant drink of their coffee. “I don’t know why you’re even wasting your time on a notion like that. What they are is paranoid. I don’t doubt that they think I’m making them sick. Doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“You’re saying that your patient is lying.”

“Maybe not lying. That would imply that they know what they’re saying is not true. They are sick, I will not deny that. And they are not responding to treatment. I can’t say that anything I’ve tried so far has made it any better, but it certainly hasn’t made it worse.”

“Why would they believe such a thing without reason?”

Medic exhaled.

“Because, in Villain’s mind, they do have reason. They have a child’s understanding of medicine. They are sick, and they are under my care and taking my medicines, and thus, in their mind, one of these things has caused the other.”

Counselor cast their gaze downwards, focusing on the way their milk danced its way through the black beverage before them. It was a reasonable explanation. Maybe. They may not have trusted Medic, but they trusted Medic’s abilities as a doctor.

Could Villain really be wrong?

“If they’re wrong...” Counselor began again. “Then what is making them sick? Their incident with hypothermia was weeks ago, now. It can’t still be that?”

“I doubt the two are connected. If this was all a matter of post-hypothermic reactions, then we wouldn’t be seeing these kinds of symptoms.”

“What is it, then?”

Medic bit their bottom lip.

“That’s the problem. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? They’ve been in your care for... well over a week, now.”

“You think I don’t know that? If you haven’t noticed, I’m the world’s leading expert on Enhanced biology. Not to mention, y’know, an experienced doctor for normal humans. Whatever this is, it’s not a normal sickness. I’ve done every test I can think of.”

“And... it’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

“Not as badly as you might be fearing. Their weakness is worsening, yes, as is their general mental state. But their vitals are fine. They’re not in serious danger of anything, so long as they don’t hurt themself.”

“You think they’d do that?”

“Given just how bad their confusion has been getting? I’m already putting preventative measures in place.”

“Oh.”

Medic raised a brow.

“You thought I restrained them for no reason? I’m not Leader. There are medical regulations about this sort of thing.”

“They’ve been hurting themself?”

“Not what you may be thinking of. But with how bad their weakness has grown, they can’t exactly stand up without aid, at the current moment. Forget walking. Unfortunately, they don’t seem to have realized this.”

“They’ve fallen?”

“A few times, yes. If that is all, I was really just starting to enjoy my day off, so-”

“Wait.” Counselor shook their head. “People don’t get sick for no reason.”

“Congrats, you know a basic medical fact.”

“You know what I mean. You’re the smartest person I know. You must have, I don’t know, a theory? A hypothesis? Anything?”

Medic blinked, placing down their cup.

“I do. Though right now, I have no way of proving it.”

“What is it?”

“Villain has what we call... psionic powers. Powers that affect only a person’s brain, but not their physical body. It’s the rarest type of power, oftentimes because something you can’t see is often something you can’t detect. Thus, this group of powers is poorly understood, to say the least. But I’m sure you know what power fatigue looks like for other Enhanced.”

“Like when Hero broke their leg?” Counselor guessed.

“Yes. The simple act of overexerting ones powers, even without outside injury, can cause physical injuries like that to develop.”

“You think Villain’s having power fatigue?”

“It’s my best guess. It would check all the boxes. An undetectable illness affecting the brain, but nothing else. A never before seen condition.”

“But... is it something you can cure?”

“I can’t cure tiredness.” Medic shook their head. “That’s really not how it works. I can do my best to counteract the symptoms, but so long as the source is still there, I’d be fighting uphill.”

“Then what can you do?”

“I can remove the source.” The tiniest smirk crept onto the doctor’s countenance. “Power fatigue is caused not by using ones powers, but using them in a way that the body cannot handle. At least, as far as we can tell. If Villain can control their powers enough, their symptoms should go away.”

“You really think so?”

“I hesitate to guarantee anything. Not with how poorly understood the condition is.” That smirk fell, replaced by Medic’s resting expression of annoyance. “But training them to use their powers properly is the only way I can see them getting any better.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. I’m also sure that I would really like to go back to my quarters. If you’re done bothering me?”

Counselor bit their tongue.

“Fine.”

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Counselor had momentarily considered returning to their own quarters, but had quickly decided against it, instead turning to the kitchen. They had yet to eat that morning, as had Villain. They figured that a warm meal might help them shake off the sedatives.

And, maybe, some food would make Counselor’s own stomach stop twisting.

They only made it halfway to the kitchen, however, when in the hallway, they nearly slammed into Hero. The two both yelped, and a slosh of Counselor’s coffee slopped to the floor.

“Shit, sorry, are you okay?” Hero asked. There was considerable nerve in their voice.

Counselor nodded. “You just started me, ‘s all.” They glanced down at the spilling coffee now sitting on the tile floor. “I’ll, uh, get that later. I was just heading to the kitchen.”

“Oh. Um, could it wait?”

“I need to bring Villain something to eat.”

“Can it wait?”

“What-”

Counselor’s gaze drifted to Hero’s twitching hand.

“You have something?”

“Mhm. I don’t think it’s going to take very long.”

“Can I see?”

“Not here. Not with everyone else around.”

Counselor raised their brows quizzically, but nodded.

“To your quarters, then?”

“I guess that’s as good of a place as any.”

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As soon as Counselor was out of sight, Medic changed their trajectory.

The musty air that filled their lab acted on them like a drug, sending a calm shiver down their spine. If they had the day off (or if they were being forced to take it off), there was no way they were going to spend that precious little free time moping in their quarters. Not when they could be here.

They sat, the memory foam of their desk chair still molded to their form. The laptop before them booted up with a familiar chirp and bright pink screensaver, written upon in white text:

“Property of Organization. Unauthorized Use Is Unlawful.” 

The grainy selection of videos blinked before them, and they selected the next one in the series. Even if they didn’t have access to their Asset at the current moment, they could at the very least work ahead.

The screen fizzled to life in all its low-definition glory, displaying a familiar room, its walls plastered with protective black rubber, and its tile floor made of the same material.

The presenter wore a bandage on their face, covering the side of their jaw. The gauze warped as they smiled, but they seemed to make no note of it.

Beside them, the presenter’s own Asset stood. The muzzle around their face had been modified, its metal warped as to compress its wearer’s jaw, to the point that even breathing was an impossibility.

Extreme, perhaps, but based on the Asset’s behavior, it was warranted.

Though their movements were weak and unbalanced, they were persistent, not ceasing yanking against their leash for the slightest moment. This time, unlike before, the presenter seemed to be paying attention to them, though they did not seem worried.

“It has been some time since we last spoke.” They began. “I apologize for the delay, but, hopefully, it will not happen again. After all, training our Assets is a full time job.”

A smile. Cheerful, stretching their cheeks.

“Unfortunately, I must report that the recent delay we experienced was as a result of my own Asset lashing out. This was unfortunate, but it made me realize that there is a flaw in my training methods. A flaw I seek to instruct you, today, on how to remedy.

One advantage we trainers have is that we have 24/7 access to our Assets. As we take care of them, we can choose to meet their needs in whatever way we see fit.

Deprivation has always been a part of Asset training, since we pioneered our methods. But it was something I, unfortunately and unwisely, neglected. And I have done you all a disservice by not mentioning it to you.

In order for training to truly take effect, there must be room in an Asset’s mind for it to fit. A reason for them to follow. Fear, certainly, is this reason, but there are other aspects to control.

Following my Asset’s incident, we have been working using these methods of deprivation. Depriving your Asset of things such as nutrients, water, and sleep can significantly speed up and solidify your training. In this lesson, we will go over this, and how it can help you improve your training methods.”

The presenter’s smile was matched by their Asset’s wicked snarl. From the corners of their mouth, licks of flame emerged, just for the slightest moment.

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Hero handled the flash drive as though it were a bomb.

Perhaps it was, if the writing on the device was at all to be believed. Scrawled on in sharpie, a hastily written yet well received warning.

“Property of Organization. Unauthorized Use Is Unlawful.” 

As if Organization cared about the law.

Hero seated themself in their office chair, leaving Counselor to sit a few feet back, on their bed. They almost flinched, plugging the flashdrive into their laptop.

For a moment, the computer hummed, before it reported chipperly that new files had been added.

“Uh, Hero?”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you get this thing?”

“Leader gave it to me.”

“Did they say what it was.”

Hero shook their head. “That’s what we’re about to find out.”

Still moving terribly nervously, Hero opened the folder that the computer had created for these ‘new files.’

“It’s... videos.”

“Videos?”

“A couple of them, yeah.”

“Should we... play them?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. I mean, if Organization is involved, I’m not sure I want to know what’s on them.”

“It could help Villain.”

Hero sighed, dipping their head.

“I hate when you’re right.”

With deft fingers, they selected the first video.

It had been so long, since any of them had seen Traitor. More than that, it had been so long since any of them had seen Traitor smile.

And yet, that was what they were doing. Grinning, ear to ear, eyes locked upon the camera.

“Hello, everyone, and welcome to the second edition of the Asset Training Video Course. If you are confused, the first edition of this series was, unfortunately, cut short due to... an incident. We will all miss our last presenter, but that does not mean that our duties can be shirked.”

Traitor turned, looking offscreen, calling:

“Veni huc.”

The language the words were in was clearly not English, but the person who moved on-screen did not seem concerned by that fact.

Villain smiled as well, though their warm gaze had an inquisitive quality to it as they regarded the camera. A chain-link collar was arranged about their neck, but it was attached to nothing, and seemed to more or less hang limply.

“For this series, I will be demonstrating all you need to know about Asset training. This, here, is my own Asset, Cadet. As you can tell, they are very well trained, if I do say so myself. They will be helping me show you how to train your own assigned Asset.”

Traitor’s hand reached for Villain, who did not flinch a moment. Their hand ruffled Villain’s hair affectionately.

Villain smiled, and leaned into the touch.

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #villainsicle #powered whumpee #conditioned whumpee

[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Two): Here In Night City

Notes: This one has been done for a while, I’ve been pretty busy and overwhelmed with school for a while, but I’ve been having some fun silverv shenanigans on my personal account and I figured it was time to post it. I’m not sure how I feel about it? It went through some heavy edits, so there might be some typos and issues with that, and writing a montage...is new territory for me...

Word Count: 14799

Chapter Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Casual Discussion of Suicide (its fairly common in Night City according to lore), Talks of Sex but nothing explicit

If you haven’t yet, you can read the first chapter here. 

V fiddles with the frayed edges of her hoodie, following behind Jackie. The night air chills her skin as they walk. It's not far from the bar where he stops a building, among the shorter cluster of buildings in Heywood, in no way stretching up into the heaven like many of the buildings in Night City. Jackie has no hesitation, taking the steps two at a time and swinging the front door open. She moves to take her mask off, not wanting to risk creeping his mom out, though her bruises and blood matted hair won’t do her any favors. 

“Ma! I brought a friend home!” He yells out, like they’re kids asking to have a sleepover and V finds herself smiling. V bounces slightly on the balls of her feet, looking around the living room, the little collections of knick knacks, little calavera skulls. The couch covered in blankets and the warm little cozy touches within the home. 

“Jaquito!” A woman’s accented voice rings out, Jackie’s mom coming into the living room, “where the hell have you been!? I’ve been worried sick!” 

Jackie’s mom is a woman somewhere in her fifties, if V had to wager a guess, with gray hair that falls down past her shoulders and blue eyes. There’s a softness to her as she looks at her son, something inherently maternal to her gaze. There’s wrinkled lines of worry around her eyes. 

“Ay, I told you Mama, it was just biz. Nothing to worry about,” Jackie waves off his mother’s concerns.

“And your friend?” The older woman’s eyes land on her, she looks down finding a spot on the floor to focus on. 

“Ma, this is V.” 

Jackie turns to introduce her and V starts to look up, then his green eyes widen for a moment. It’s the first time he’s seen her without the mask, she’s realized, and she finds herself hyperaware of her features, worrying about how they’re being viewed. Her hands fidget and nerves flush her face. She’s not even this anxious when a hookup sees her face for the first time. The idea of a potential bedmate rejecting her is nothing compared to this visceral fear that her new friend and his mother not approving of her . 

“Hi,” she signs, slightly stilted in her movements, feeling as if she might combust. 

Her already awkward gestures completely freeze when she feels Senora Welles cups her cheek, fingers rubbing over the purple bruises on V’s skin. The touch is kind and warm, stirring up memories of V’s own mother. Memories of being a child returning to camp after hours of scavenging through a landfill or exploring the new land just for her mother to come look over her for every bruise or mark she may have collected. 

“My Jackie drag you into one of his messes?” Senora Welles asks before V can go further down the slippery nostalgia slope. Fingers brush across the blood in the back of V’s hair, the worry etching the older woman’s expression only grows. The intensity makes the former nomad look at the ground, unable to maintain eye contact. 

“It was a client, mama,” Jackie answers for V, “First night in NC spent bleeding out in a dumpster, second will be spent on the street unle-”

“Say no more. I’ll get you some clean clothes, you can use our shower, and we’ll get some food in your belly, alright?” 

“Alright, thank you, so much,” V signs as Senora Welles pulls away. She doesn’t know what she did to deserve their kindness, but she’s thankful for it, nonetheless. 

She’s given a black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants once Senora Welles has shown her to the bathroom. It’s modest with a tile floor, stickers on the mirror and sugar skulls beside it. V catches sight of herself in the mirror and blinks at what’s looking back at her, she understands Jackie and his mother’s reaction now. While she suspected and felt what she may look like. But her reflection staring back at her confirms it. Purples, blues, and greens scatter across her face like galaxies over her skin. Her eyeliner has smeared and smudged around her eyes. Her hair is in tangles, darkening red flecks of blood staining the bleached blonde and  dark brown of her roots where it sticks to her scalp the ponytail she tied it back in is now knots. She needs a cut and a touch up. But bleach may have to wait, when she tries to brush it out, it hurts, pulling at the not quite healed wound on her scalp and bringing fresh blood to the surface. She does the best she can for now before deciding it’s enough.  

V  triple checks the lock on the door, not out of distrust for the Welles, but her own paranoia and habit. Then she strips out of her clothes and takes out her hearing aids, stashing them in the medicine cabinet in hopes of protecting them from steam. She rubs at the reddened skin of her ears. She knows they’re necessary, but they chap and rub her ears raw after too long. There’s cream she has for it, that’s in her duffle bag, that was in her Rattler. She pouts at the realization before she turns on the hot water, stepping under it’s spray. 

The hot water is a welcomed relief to her aching muscles, as she washes away the grime, she starts to feel human again. She scrubs the blood and mess from her hair, careful of her still tender scalp as she washes away the mess that was her first day in Night City. 

V dries off and slots her hearing aids back in, they seem to still be dry. She throws on the clothes she was given. The shirt hangs off her shoulders and the hem hits at her knees, she gets the idea the shirt may be Jackie’s. She’s less sure of the sweatpants, they do sag on her hips and the legs go well over her feet, but with enough tightening of the drawstring they manage to stay up. Baggy, soft, and warm. If not for the still steady pain in her temples and the cramping of her empty belly, she could curl up to sleep. Her hair is still in absolute knots, so she ops for putting it up in a bun to save for a time in which she can handle combing through it. Then finally she leaves the bathroom, peeking around the corner. 

“Chica, in here!” Jackie’s voice booms and calls her into the kitchen. 

She pads her way in there, Senora Welles and Jackie are gathered around a table in the kitchen. He’s thrown off his jacket, showing the muscle shirt he wore beneath it. And despite having seen him all night, she truly feels like she’s seeing him fully now in the cozy lighting of the kitchen. Freckled skin, biceps the size of her head, a black and red tattoo on his wrist and forearm that’s cut off by a gold bracelet. The light catches off the cyberware across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. He grins widely as his mother fills a bowl with chili, the grown man shoveling it in his mouth without waiting for it to cool, like an overexcited child. 

“Over here, mija, take a seat and a bowl,” Senora Welles beckons her over. 

V climbs up into a seat, awkwardly tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear. Senora Welles fills a bowl to the top with chilli for her; the smell of the tomato, synth beef, and veggies making her stomach growl. She’s torn between gratefulness and feeling a bit like a mangy dog Jackie dragged in. It’s fine line between kindness and pity, she can only hope it’s the former rather than the latter. 

“Thank you, so much.”

The second she’s done signing another thanks, she’s shoving chili into her mouth and its so good. Perfectly cooked and with a hint of spice. She nearly inhales the rest of her bowl, barely coming up for air as she gobbles it up. A second bowl goes by just as quickly, she’s pretty sure Jackie’s on her third by the time she grabs the second. She’s slowing down by her third, her stomach not quite bursting, and she’s willing to push it just to keep eating.  

“Aye, you’re as bad as Jaquito,” Senora Welles teases, smiling as she calmly eats her own food. 

“Sorry, its just really good…” V signs with one hand, still eating with her other. 

“Told you my ma made the best chili.” 

“Hey, what did I say about talking with your mouth full, Jackie!” His mother scolds him. 

“V did it first.” 

“I don’t talk!” 

“See, she did it again!” Jackie teases when she signs again. V swallows her mouthful of chili and sticks her tongue out at Jackie. The joking around has eased some of the tension for V, Jackie still treating her like a new friend and not some sad sack he’s trying to help. 

“So, V,” Senora Welles says after a few moments, “where are you from?” 

“All of the everywhere, I think I was born in North Carolina? Maybe?” 

“You’re a nomad?” 

V chews her lip, the media talk about nomads is far from good, usually painted as asshole outlaws. Corps don’t like them. Corps own the media. So they make sure the media tells everyone that nomads are the violent assholes who refuse to fall in line, refused to sell their land, and then ran away to ruin everyone’s life when they lost the battle. Not that it stops them from lining a nomad’s pocket when they need work done. Which, granted, her own nomad family are…violent assholes and criminals, but that doesn’t mean they all are. And she doesn’t want to be painted with that same brush. And there are good solid nomad families out there, she’s met more than a few in Bakkers, Aldecaldos, and Red Ochre Clan; to name just a handful. 

“Formerly, yeah, was hoping to make a new life here.” 

“Your nomad family ain’t waiting for you?”  

“Uh, no, just…no.”  

Tears prick at the back of V’s eyes, threatening to shed as she thinks of her mom, put down in a med tent. The first time her father held a captive bolt pistol to the base of her skull, ready to kill her for her newfound disability. The way everything seemed to change when she lost her hearing. Her sister hunting her down like a dog, not caring who she has to shake down, what she has to burn to the ground; just to kill her on the order of their father. She bites down harshly on her lower lip, she doesn’t want to think about it. 

Then there’s an arm wrapping around her shoulders, Senora Welles having stood up at some point, and now gently tucking V’s head under her chin. A gentle one-armed hug, not tight or all-encompassing but warm and kind, without pushing her. 

“No worries, mija,” the older woman speaks against V’s skin, “you can stay here as long as you need.”  

“Thank you, that means a lot,” V’s not sure if at the angle, Senora Welles eyes can translate her signing, but she squeezes the older woman’s hand, hoping it can be communicated through touch if nothing else.  Appreciative as she is, there’s a small pit in her stomach, she’s already becoming a burden to someone new. 

A moment passes and then Senora Welles gives a soft kiss to the top of her head before taking away the dirty dishes. V starts to gather it as well, she’s eating their food and staying in their house, the least she can do. If she’s going to impose for any length of time, she needs to make herself worthwhile to have around, to some degree. 

“No, no, no, V. You’re a guest, go on and get settled in,” Senora Welles stops her before she can help any further. 

“Uh-“ 

“C’mon, jaina,” Jackie gives a quick pat to her shoulder, “I’ll show you where you can sleep tonight.” 

She gets up from her seat, feet padding up the stairs after Jackie. He barely fits between the banisters, his wide muscular frame completely blocking her view as they move through the house. He takes her up to a bedroom, its not particularly big, and she can’t help but think he’s had it since he was a child. There’s fitness posters on the wall, weights that she imagines Jackie could juggle if he wanted, a vanity with a rosary, but it’s what stacked on top of one of the desks that catches her eye. 

Two desks are flush against one of the walls, one with a large aquarium balanced on it. Vivid blue and white fluorescent lights illuminating the water.  Only one fish swims through it, gray with a fin, like a mini shark. V can’t help the noise of excitement she makes as she bounces on the balls of her feet over to the tank, sitting in the chair at the desk. She wants a better look at this beautiful baby. 

“V, meet Taco,” Jackie introduces her to the dwarf shark. 

“I’d die for him,” she signs, with zero hesitation. 

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Heh,” she giggles at his response, “must have cost you an arm and a leg.” 

“Think I bought him?” 

V’s nose wrinkles as she laughs, hands forming words, “forbidden shark.” 

V taps against the aquarium glass, getting Taco’s attention, she drags her finger back and forth across the glass watching the large fish chase her finger. Taco twirls and twists, trying to nibble at her finger through the glass. 

“So, what happens tomorrow?” Jackie asks, bed creaking under his weight. 

She turns in the chair, resting her arms and chin across the back of it as she shifts to face him. Jackie has sat down on the bed tucked into a cubby against a wall. Can he even fit on that bed? She’s still not even sure who’s sleeping where tonight, she has no intention of stealing the man’s bed, if anything she wishes you could buy him a bigger one to more comfortably fit him. 

“Tomorrow? Gonna get my shit back, hopefully turn a quick profit off the cargo, and get myself a place. I don’t plan on  making a nuisance out of myself, I promise.” 

She’s thankful for the hospitality and as much as she maybe shouldn’t, she’ll take advantage for the night. But, she has no intention of leeching off of their kindness. They may be opening their door to her, but no one wants a mooch. She’s an adult and needs to take care of herself. 

“Pfft, you ain’t no fucking nuisance, my ma’s probably just happy to have someone who’ll help with the dishes.” 

“I don’t wan-“ she shifts gears mid-sentence, “you don’t help your mom with the dishes?” 

“Eh, ya know,” he makes a vague wiggly hand gesture and scrunches his face up “it’s gross…” He shrugs. 

“Of course it’s gross, you dummy! She cooks for you for god’s sake, the least you can do is help clean up!” 

“I’m busy, okay!” 

“Unbelievable.”

“Look,” he laughs, “ that, this was not the point, Chica. So, before you climb up my ass again… Lemme ask,  what about the day after tomorrow? Day after that… you ice Sinclaire and then what? ” 

“Hmmm,” she hums, tapping her fingers against the chair before signing, “I hate to disappoint but I haven’t come up with any grand plan since the last time you asked. ’

“Figured as much, you ever do any merc work before this?” 

“Little things, smuggling jobs here and there, stayed out of cities so pickings were slim. You been doing it long?” 

“Most of my life; work for yourself, live for yourself. Only way there is, if you ask me.” 

“Probably be the easiest way to make eddies after I square away this cargo thing,” she admits, she never really put it into thoughts, but she always sort of assumed that’s where she’d end up once she landed in the city. The only other alternative would be some entry level job waiting tables or something and that might even be a pipe dream if they expect her to have cyberware or something resembling a formal education. 

“Already got a fixer who likes you,” Jackie tells her, “and not to brag, but with me as your partner you’ll be getting preem jobs right out the gate.” 

“Oh, so we’re partners now?” 

“Don’t see why not, already know we work well together, I could use an extra pair of hands and you could use really any help you can get, and… ” he pauses for a moment, finding his words, “I just got a good feeling about this, ‘bout us.” 

“A feeling?” 

“Yeah, that the two of us could make to the top.”

She’s trying not to laugh as she sees excitement fill his eyes, like a child on Christmas. It’s not as if merc work is new territory to her, she’s taken odd jobs in the Badlands. But, it is sparser than in the city and mostly smuggling. She can’t exactly proclaim it’s her dream job or what she wants to do forever, but she can’t think of a damn thing else she’d like to do. Death has been nipping at her heels since she was nine years old, she hasn’t thought far ahead, hasn’t felt she had any right to. 

And, she can’t really say she gives a fuck about making it to the top. Riches, fame, notoriety, being a legend. She couldn’t care less. She just wants to be in control of her own life, to feel like she has no restraints, and to build a life that has meaning to her. To be the person she wants to be, even though she isn’t quite sure who that is yet… She’s twenty, twenty-one this year, and she never even thought she’d get that far.  Its hard to really expect her to know exactly who she is or what she wants.  

But… could she really even get that far? Jackie seems convinced, but could she be capable of that? Is she strong enough? Competent enough?  

“I’m talking the major leagues, V. The top of the top, the mercs who get the best jobs, are swimming in eddies; Night City legends.” 

“That what you want?” 

“More than anything. Raised in shit, told I’d never climb out, but I’m gonna prove ‘em wrong. Don’t you want to? Show every son of a bitch who put you down, looked down their nose at you, that they didn’t know shit?”

Her father and his words come flooding to her mind; told she’s weak, worthless, defective, not worth the lead to blow her brains out. And yeah, she’d love to prove him wrong. To be strong and show she’s capable. To know she can take care of herself, that she doesn’t need anyone else to be okay. She’d love to prove to the people who told her she needed to get her hearing “fixed”, that she’s not fucking broken. Even now, people like Sinclaire take one look at her and see her as gutter trash.  She wants respect, the security that comes with it, not notoriety. Proving her strength, her capability, her worth by taking any job that comes her way is more than a little enticing, it’d earn her that respect both from others. 

But more importantly, she’d like to prove that to herself. To know in her heart she really isn’t any of those things. That she isn’t a burden. To prove to herself that she’s capable of more than being a burden, more than meandering along to her father’s orders. For once she’d like for others not to look at her like cockroach and more importantly to be able to look at herself and see more than a waste of space. To finally feel right in her own skin, take that voice of doubt that keeps asking her if she’s enough, and crush it. 

She could give a fuck less who knows her name, hell she prefers no one ever does. Its not the notoriety or fame. V greatly prefers being unknowable, between the mask and alias she’s a few blurry photos away from going full cryptid. And she likes that. If she keeps the mask on for business, keep work and personal separate with it, she could keep her privacy. Keep skeletons in her closet from coming back to bite her...

For so long she was told she was weak by The Herd. Weak for her disability. Weak for accepting her mother’s protection. 

An outcasts among outcasts, thats what the sheriff said, and he didn’t know the half of it. Nomads the outcasts of regular society, raffen shiv the outcasts of the nomads, and her an outcast among the raffen shiv. An outcast from the outcasts of the outcasts. So unwanted by the world and even her own fucking body. There has never in twenty years been a place for her in this world. But maybe she’s finally found it, working her ass off with Jackie and showing Night City just what she can do. 

“Lets do it,” she decides, she wants this, not to be famous or major leagues but to be untouchable, to prove a point, to take control of her life, to be more than anyone thought she could be, and to like what she sees when she looks in the mirror.  

“Fuck yeah,” he shifts to face her fully, catching her hand in shake, his large fingers blanketing her smaller ones, “this is the start of a beautiful thing, I just know it.” 

That night, Jackie sleeps on the couch in the living room, despite V’s constant insistence that she’ doesn’t want to take over his bed; his stubbornness wins out. And as he leaves to the living room she’s left with the weight of loneliness, of trying to sleep without the warmth of another beside her. It’s a dumb issue to have, keeping the world at arm’s length and keeping her walls up at all times, but needing a hug to sleep. Years of safety in numbers being beat into her head, sleeping alone feels like baring her throat for the wolves and expecting herself to find peace. 

As odd, creepy, weird as  it may be V takes advantage of the benefit that sleeping in Jackie’s clothes and bed has for her. Burying her nose in the pillows and blankets that smell like him, smell like another person, trying to convince her senses she’s not alone. Letting the smell of cheap cologne and some oil she can’t quite place soothe her. It used to be a band tee she stole from Ava, before…everything, though the scent has steadily faded over time, its still a source of comfort. And it was in her bag…in her car. Who knows if she’ll find it again… 

Then there’s her pictures and the old polaroid camera she fixed up to take them. A little treasure she found rummages through a landfill out towards Oregon. Photos of her sister, her mother, and Ava; of her life before she had to run. Back when she still thought that a family that doesn’t want you was worth having… Pictures from her time on the road; her and Sabrina, the sweet group of Bakkers who sold her the Rattler, and just any place, sight, or person that managed to make her day or make a few days. Loneliness colored a lot of that time, but she made her memories, people she’s sure forgot her when she left but whom she’ll never forget. 

Her mom’s guitar… the one thing she went back for the night she left, doubling back and breaking into her father’s tent for it when she realized she had left. Stepping into the lion’s den just to have it, she can’t play, she gave up on learning when her hearing went. But those early memories of sitting in her mother’s lap at camp with the guitar in her hands, small fingers callusing as they plucked at the strings…. 

And all of those could be gone. Every memory and memento could be gone for good because of one asshole. She digs her nails into her scalp and knots her hair, anger and anxiety pitting in her stomach, bleeding into each other. 

She burrows into the blankets and pillows, trying to prevent her thoughts from wandering, though it’s fighting an uphill battle, trying to think of the name of every star she knows in alphabetical order if only to bore her brain into sleep rather than letting it race in circles. She’s somewhere between Meissa and Merga when she finally falls asleep. 

And she awakes in the dead of night; chest tight and lungs struggling to get a deep breath of air. No nightmare this time, but a sense of panic and dread pumping adrenaline into her blood, making her heart race as she jumps out of Jackie’s bed.  She checks the door, she locked it before she went to bed, she needs doors locked. And she knows she did, but she needs to check it. She locks and unlocks it, no windows to check, so her focus is only on the door. And she does that until the tightness in her chest ease, until she can breathe a little easier, locking it for the last time before walking away from the door. Security, safety, a paranoia that tells her to never feel safe. That the world has always wanted her gone and one day death will knock at her door for the last time. 

Her body feels heavy as she wanders to Taco’s tank, the shark swimming in circles, V’s face bathed in the blue light from it. There’s still a shake in her hands, but her limbs are leaden as she sits down at the desk. She watches him swim and swish around for a few moments, sprinkling some of his food into the tank to watch him eat. 

“Really wish I could hold you, right now.”  

She speaks it out loud, softly to the swimming shark, needing to put her thoughts into the world but hands too shaky to sign worth a damn. Though they still ache and twitch to do so.  After a few more moments of watching the mini shark swim, she crawls back into bed to sleep for the rest of the night. Thankful, that she doesn’t wake until morning. 

The newly appointed merc is dragging when she wakes,  as always due to her lackluster sleeping patterns. To make matters worse, her eyes are red and itchy, sensitive even in the light of the house. A flare up, autoimmune disease coming back to kick her ass for stressing and not sleeping. Her joints ache, swollen, as she groggily stumbles her way from Jackie’s bedroom, when a sweet smell hits her nose, stomach growling. She

Senora Welles and Jackie are at the table, she made breakfast of course, because she’s entirely too nice. On the table is a spread of french toast with cinnamon whip cream on top. Jackie already has a stack nearly as tall as V on his plate, half eaten. 

Jackie yells out something, his mouth full, and she realizes the world is still quiet as his mother scolds him. Her eyes are too irritated and her mind too groggy for her to be able to competently read lips. She holds up a finger, asking them to wait a moment, and doubles back to Jackie’s bedroom. She grabs her hearing aids and contemplates grabbing her mask, just so it can translate for her.

Optic translations are pretty advanced for sign language, but they have limitations. Like people needing to look at the signer the entire time and name signs being essentially untranslatable since they’re personal to the signer. But she wants to eat and having to hold up her mask everytime she wants to talk is a pain. She turns on her hearing aids and leaves the mask behind, hopefully Jackie and Senora Welles will look at her if she has to say anything or she’ll just stay silent as she stuffs her face. Jackie raises an eyebrow at her when she comes back to the kitchen. 

“Forgot my ears,” she signs, tapping her hearing aid, and flinching when it gives a bit of feedback in reaction. 

“Ahh, well come sit your ass down, ma made tres leche french toast.” 

“Thank you,” she signs to Senora Welles who gives her a soft smile. 

“Something up with your optics, jaina? Looking red.”

“I don’t have optic implants,” she signs before pouring herself a cup of coffee. 

“Really? Guess that’d be why you don’t got lipreading tech and explain why they look like you rubbed peppers in them.”

“That’s just a flare up.”

“Flare up?” Senora Welles asks, concern darkening her expression. 

“Autoimmune disease, some days my body hates me more than others.” 

“That what happen to your…?” Jackie taps his ear, rather than say it outright. 

She nods, it attacked the inner ear most aggressively, completely destroying her hearing by nine. According to the clan doctor, all the times she complained about her ears hurting, dizziness, and ringing in her ears it’s because her immune system was aggressively attacking them. But, she was only ever told to walk it off, until inevitably the world went silent. It still flares up, deciding it doesn’t like the rest of her either. Her eyes are what worry her the most but what can she really do. 

“There ain’t anything that can help with that.” 

“Uh, heard medications can, but haven’t been to a doc since I was sixteen and I ain’t looking to break my streak,” she signs, unable to help the way she scrunches her nose. 

She hates doctors.  Her last experience with the clan doctor ensured she never wanted to deal with another, not to mention how many times she’s been told to pop by a ripper and just “fix” her hearing. 

“Hmm, you got any chrome, V?” 

“Nope.” she signs. 

“Seriously, nothing?” 

“Not even a personal link.” She shows the palms of her hands and wrists, thankful the sleeves of the sweatshirt lent to her cover the brand on her wrist.  

“Hate to break it to you, V, but you're gonna need some chrome. Personal link, neural port, bare fuckin’ minimum if you wanna get by in Night City.” 

She doesn’t answer, just pouting as she pours sugar and milk into her coffee, until there’s barely a hint of brown coloring. She isn’t against cyberware inherently and everyone’s choice is their own, but whether it’s the years of being told they’re cheap tools to make the weak feel strong or just her own discomfort with everything it entails, the whole thing makes her skin crawl. V already hates doctors and would rather dose up on bounce backs if she has to. She can stitch her own wounds, has before, whatever it takes to avoid them. 

Add in the fact most cyberware is made and licensed by corps, no. Sure, black alley shit exists, but just the idea of a corp having the right to her eyes. What if they revoke someone’s usage of them, spy through them, confiscate them?

“Once your two finish your business, take her to Viktor,” Senora Welles tells Jackie, before turning to look at V, “he’s a good man, I’d trust to take care of anyone, mija. I’m sure he can help with whatever you need.” 

“Okay, if he has your seal of approval, suppose I gotta at least see him.” V concedes, Senora Welles seems convinced this guy is good. Even if V decides to just try to go without, everything, it can’t hurt just to meet the guy. 

“Vik’s one of my closest friends, he’ll take care of you, promise. Though, uh, keep taking your coffee like that, he might have his work cut out for him.” 

“I like sweets,” she signs, shrugging before taking a drink of her coffee and another big bite of french toast. They’re incredible, cinnamon whip cream sticking to her lips. 

“You might as well inhale sugar.” 

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t.” 

They finish up the breakfast, V stuffed with a good three or more stacks of french toast. Senora Welles begins to collect the dishes. And no, V’s not letting this happen again. 

“We’ll do dishes,” she signs, starting to collect the plates. 

“We?” 

“No, no, you don’t have to, dear.” 

“I insist please, you cooked, it’s only right for us to clean up afterwards,” she signs with one hand then looks to Jackie, “right?” 

“Right…  we’ll take care of it ma.” 

“Thank you, Mija,” Senora Welles squeezes her shoulder, “I washed your clothes last night, I’ll leave them in the bathroom, once you two finish with the dishes you can wash up and get changed.” 

“Thank you,” V signs again before taking the dishes to the sink with Jackie. 

“One night here and you’re already the favorite, Jesucristo.” 

V can’t resist giggling at the comment, smile on her face. They don’t talk much as they wash dishes, mostly because she can’t sign and clean at the same time. It doesn’t take long before they’ve finished up. V going to shower and change, then they’ll head to the chop shop Padre mentioned. Then it’s time to end Sinclaire. 

“You ready to go, V?” Jackie asks when she comes back changed, mask with her for when she’ll need it. 

“Let’s get this show on the road.” 

“Me and V are headed out, Ma! Be back in time for dinner, promise!” 

The pair leave the house and make their way down the steps. The streets are jam packed with people and she’s still not used to the crowd, cringing as she has to weave through them. Jackie doesn’t have a car and her’s is indisposed wherever it is. She nearly trips over a bag of trash trying to keep up with her new partner. Why is the city so dirty? V never even let the camp site get this filthy and these city people just toss their trash out on the street?

“C’mon, we’ll take the train down to the chop shop, see if they got your car first,” Jackie’s voice cuts her off because she can start trying to clean the street. 

“I still don’t have any-”

“I’ll pay for us both.” 

“Sorry and thanks” 

“How many times have you said sorry or thanks since we met?” Jackie asks. 

“I wasn’t counting.” 

The station is already crowded and she’s cringing at the sight of two many fucking people. They fall in line, jacking in personal links, eyes glowing as they pay the fee then wait for the train. Mothers holding their children’s hands, homeless people with signs at the sides of the station, begging for eddies. 

“Too many times,” he says jacking in his personal link, eyes lighting up as he pays for both of their rides, “this is what friends and family are for, chica.” 

“To pay my way in the world?” She asks as they step into the crowded subway train. 

The crowd is forced to part around Jackie, everyone offering his broad frame more space, as his sheer size demands it. No one moves for V, she has to step and weave around people who easily crowd around her small figure without a second thought. Is it just the size difference? Or something more? 

She curls in on herself, shrinking as she maneuvers through people. Too many voices, layering together into cacophony. She can feel the warmth of everyone’s body, the stench of body odor and contrasting perfumes or colognes. She needs her own car, for sure, this is agony. She can’t do this daily. 

“To have your back, mija. Besides, acting like world’s doing you a favor by letting you exist, a good way to get your neck stepped on.” 

“But, you and your ma are doing me a favor. You gonna step on my neck for thanking you?” 

They’ve come to a stop, Jackie finding a empty pole on the subway train to hold onto. She looks up at him, waiting for his answer, blinking expectantly. He’s not seriously suggesting she not be grateful, is he? She’s no stranger to faking confidence or having an attitude, she’s not exactly a goodie two shoes. But she’s not about to be rude to people who don’t invite the behavior. Usually. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Look at you like what?” She asks, migraine forming as she’s surrounded by noise. 

“With those puppy eyes.” 

“Those are just my eyes, Jackie.” 

“Well, stop it.” 

“Fine,” she decides, kill two birds, one stone, “I’m gonna put my mask on and turn off my hearing aids for a bit.” 

“Why?” 

“Too much,” she signs and gesture vaguely to the entire subway. 

“Ah, not used to the city noise are ya?” He asks just before she turns off her hearing aids, sliding her mask in place. She breathes a sigh of relief, silence, glorious silence. 

“Its...a lot, but in general, world has either been silent or at least had a mute button since I was nine. First time I got my hearing aids, I broke down in tears, felt like the world was screaming at me and that was in the middle of nowhere. I’ve gotten use to them and its not even necessarly the volume, its just that its not cohesive if that makes sense. Not that any sound is too loud, just there’s too many of them.” 

“I think, I get ya, if it’s one thing drowning out everything else it’s fine. But, when you got twenty different things going on, it feels like your brain is going in every direction?” 

“Kinda? It’s just too much, like the world on low volume.” 

“Eh, have a feel you’re gonna be hitting mute on Night City a lot.” 

“Yeah, I kinda figure.” 

“Hmmm, probably should figure out a better fix than the mask too, can’t wear it all the time.” 

“I mean,” she shrugs, “ideally everyone in the world would just learn sign language to accommodate me.” 

“Yeah?” He laughs, apparently catching the joke, “Night City ain’t one for accomadating.” 

“A person can dream.” 

“Tell you what though, chica, teach me sign language, I’ll teach you, Spanish.” 

“You got it, and once you know ASL and I know Spanish, we can learn Spanish Sign Language, or if you prefer Mexican Sign Language. Or both.” 

“How many different kinds of sign language are there again?” 

“Not sure, but I probably can’t count that high. I mean there’s several variations even in just signing in English.”

“Oh…” 

“You have ASL which is the most common, you have Signed Exact English which has a lot more fingerspellng. You have Conceptually Accurate Signed English, also sometimes called Pidgin Sign Language which essentially uses ASL signs but follows word order and grammar rules from English. And-”

“I’m regretting this already.” 

“Then there’s different dialects used within different parts of the deaf community, like-”

“Well, lookie there, it’s our stop,” Jackie cuts her off when the subway train comes to a stop and she’s smiling behind her mask, watching the way the gears in his head turn trying to keep up with this information. 

V stays close to his back as he leaves the crowded train, taking advantage of the space the crowd gives him to give herself some space. The chop shop is just a short walk from the station and despite struggling to keep up with Jackie’s longer strides, they reach it without much issue. V making sure to turn her hearing aids back on before she enters the store.

“Can I help you?” A worker grumbles when the pair walk through the door. 

“I’m looking for a Galena Rattler, nomad vehicle, red. Someone brought it in here.” 

The worker scratches at the cybernetics etching his face, searching his memory for a moment before he finally speaks up. 

“Had something like that come in a day or two ago, had a dog bobblehead on the dash?’ 

“That’s the one.” 

“Bucket of rust was sent to the landfill as soon as it got here, probably scrapped by now.” 

Her heart sinks into her chest, her first car, her fucking home for the past four or so years; gone. All because some asshole had to fuck her over. She wants to scream, cry a little bit, kick something. 

“Sorry, kid, uh, I can get you the stuff we got out of it. About all I can offer you.” 

“Okay…” 

She nudges the floor with the toe of her boot, fingers fiddling with the hem of her shirt as she waits. It isn’t long until the worker emerges from the back room with her dufflebag, the guitar case, and her dog bobblehead. V checks through, all weapons and first aid shit gone. But her holophone,  her clothes, the clunky old little computer, her photos, and her mother’s guitar are all still there. Basically anything they couldn’t feasibly make a profit off of is still there. Photos mean nothing, a crappy landfill camera worthless, beat up acoustic guitar, and tech that dates back a good couple years don’t amount to much when you want cash. At least being generations behind everyone else has done her some good. Even if she still lost her car. 

Most of her mementos were saved, but a pit still forms in her stomach at losing her car, essentially her closest thing to home since she left The Herd. 

“C’mere, chica.”

 Jackie wraps his arms around her smaller frame, large arms encompassing her, threatening to crush the air from her lungs. Unlike the one-armed hug from his mother, this is overwhelmingly affectionate, surrounded by his warmth. She tries to think back the last time she was hugged like this, probably by her own mother, when she was fifteen? V freezes in his grasp, arms awkwardly hanging at her sides before she brings them up to lightly pat at his back. Not quite able to commit herself to hugging him back fully. 

“…” 

“Aye, Santa Madre. Is that how you hug, V?” 

She shrugs within his hold, unable to sign while being pulled so close to him.  He pulls away, leaving only a hand on her shoulder. 

“What’s wrong with how I hug?” 

“Everything, don’t worry though, we’ll work on it,” he tells her. 

“You’re weird.” 

“So,” Jackie switches gears, “Sinclaire, you got a plan yet?” 

“Sinclaire lives in the penthouse of a megabuilding. Intel says he should be there today, taking a day off tricking nomads I guess. Need to get in, figure out where the cargo is, and gut Sinclaire.”

“Got a netrunner who owes me a favor, she might be able to get in the subnet for the building, trip the cameras and get us in.” 

“Seriously, you wanna waste that favor on me?” 

“Eh, T-Bug will help me out again, even if she says otherwise.” 

Jackie rolls his eyes and pulls out his holophone, his optics lighting up bright blue as he dials a number, like many folks he has his phone hooked up to his eyes. . 

“Hey, Bug, calling in my favor.” 

V can’t hear the other side of the conversation, shaking her bobblehead as she waits patiently. Bobble bobble, the dog’s head bounces up and down. 

“We’re trying to get into Megabuilding 12, huh…oh I got myself a new partner, she’s cool, don’t worry. Just need you to hack the subnet, get us access, kill the cameras. Can you do that for me?” 

A smirk comes across Jackie’s face and he rolls his eyes, before looking to V, “Bug says she wants to be patched through to you, ain’t helping someone she don’t know. “ 

“That’s fine,” she signs, “I can sync my holophone to my mask just like optics.” 

Her mask will display the person just like optic tech can, she has it set so her avatar displays instead of her face so all they’ll see is a picture of the same expression on her mask, and they’ll hear the AI voice as she signs.  Jackie taps at his phone as he sends the call to V’s phone as well. Her mask lights up to let her know of the incoming call and she taps accept on her phone, a little video square shows up in the corner of her vision. 

T-bug is older than V, most folks are, with dark hair shaved down nearly to her scalp and dark makeup surrounding her big brown eyes. A skin tight black net runner suit clings to what’s visible of her body. 

“Hello,” V signs, letting the AI voice resonate through the connection. 

“No face, no voice; the hell are you dragging me into Jackie?” 

“Stop worrying Bug, V is good people, she just needs to get back at a client who fucked her over. You said you owed me one.” 

“Fine, but this goes sideways and I’m frying you both.” 

“Not sure you can fry V, but alright. Let’s get our asses moving.” 

They opt to walk to the megabuilding, not to leave any trace of traveling out there. It’s not far out and before too long they’re standing before the stairs up to the towering building. Megabuildings are impressive to say the least, giant ecosystems in their own right, rows of rows of the same apartments until you hit the top floors and lower floors dedicated to shops. V tucks her bobblehead into her dufflebag and puts her bag down in a corner by the stairs along with the guitar case, preferring to travel lightly as they axe Sinclaire, she doesn’t need to worry about bashing a guitar into a wall while she’s taking him down. 

“You play?” Jackie asks her after a beat of silence, eyes on the guitar case. 

“No.” Her answer is flat, monotone through the translator, and she offers no other explanation. 

“…talking to you is really gonna be like pulling teeth, ain’t it?” 

“You asked a question, I answered.” 

“Nah, nah, it’s okay, I spill my soul, let you in my home, my family, my bed; and you give me half assed hugs and one word answers, I get it, chica.”

“There’s nothing to get!” 

 “No worries, I got time, I’ll know you better than you know yourself, before you…well, know it,” his grin drops as he realized he said ‘know’ entirely too many times in that sentence

“Didn’t think that sentence through, did ya?” 

“Shaddup, let’s get this asshole.” 

T-bug’s avatar and quick flashes of technological info flashes at a camera as they enter the megabuilding. The imagery showing through to Jackie and V while none of the hundred or so residents buzzing around are any the wiser to what’s about to go down. 

“I’m in the subnet, I can see you on cams and cut off the feed to security. Getting you penthouse access now.” 

“Efficient as fuck,” V can’t help but sign, forever amazed at netrunners in general, let alone just how quickly T-bug has managed to take care of this. 

“Don’t work any other way, besides Megabuildings have shoddy security at best, this is nothing.” 

“Honestly, you could hack a toaster and I’d be impressed, this stuff is way beyond my comprehension,” V admits as her and Jackie reach the elevator, T-bug’s avatar just flashing before it opens for them. 

“Your mask can work for scanning, get a cyberdeck and I could send you some quickhacks and daemons; set you up with the basics.” 

“I’ll have to keep that in mind, never hurts to learn.” Even if she’s fairly convinced she’s too stupid to figure it out.  

“So, V’s managed to win you over already?” Jackie comments, grinning. 

“More like I’m trying to make sure you don’t call me over petty shit again,” T-bug insists, though there’s no real malice to her voice. 

V leans against the elevator wall as it lurches into movement, screens playing the news around them.  She smiles behind her mask as Jackie grins, winking before he responds to T-bug. 

“You say that but you and I both know you like being part of the team, Bug.” 

“Oh, brother,” T-bug says with a roll of her eyes and V can’t help but crack up, she can’t really imagine the two being fast friends; a loud energetic solo and a stoic netrunner. It makes her wonder how exactly they met or what favor T-bug might owe Jackie. 

“On your toes,” T-bug speaks up as the elevator comes to a stop, “two guards outside the penthouse door, I’ll run a quick hack to distract them.” 

“Get their backs to us and we’ll drop ‘em quiet, T.” 

The elevator door opens and there’s a clanging mechanical sound that rings out on the top floor halls. Jackie and V stay low as they leave the elevator; turning a corner to see two of Sinclaire’s guards. They’re looking over a vending machine that’s began to spew energy drinks out on the floor. She suddenly wishes she brought her duffle bag up with her, if only to take advantage and stockpile some drinks. 

They creep up behind them, V points at the guard at the left then herself, making it clear she’ll take him and Jackie nods. She gets behind her mark and lurches forward, snapping his neck with a crunch, feeling him go limp under her touch. From her peripheral she watches as Jackie crushes his target’s windpipe with one heavy press of his forearm. Two guards in a pile they stand up straight and make a beeline to the penthouse door. Jackie takes out his pistol, making sure its loaded, while V gets her own gun out, the one she stole from the 6th Street fuck. 

“You get a peek inside the penthouse, Bug?” 

“No more muscle inside, Sinclaire is in his office, its second door on the left going past the living room.” 

“’Preciate it, T-bug.” V signs as the penthouse door slides open. Jackie and her have weapons at the ready as they go in. 

Sinclaire’s penthouse is bougie as they come, more proof for her theory that rich people just have no fucking taste. Tacky and gaudy decorations in a lavish open room plan. The disgusting lack of taste nearly distracts from what he has that is of legitimate value; a bar stocked with expensive booze and a tv nearly as wide as a car. 

“Doesn’t seem like Sinclaire was hurting for eddies.” 

“That’s fine, plenty to sell off if he already moved the cargo.” 

“Place giving you sticky fingers?” 

“Mmhmm,” she hums as she rubs the dirty heel of her boot against the tacky zebra rug, satisfied when she leaves a smudge of filth in the white of it. 

They move through the penthouse, finding the office door, Jackie doesn’t jump to do anything, instead giving her a nod. He’s letting her lead the charge, take care of her own business on her own terms and she’s beyond thankful for it. No desire to be subtle, V kicks the door in, slamming her boot into the door and watching it burst open under her force. 

Sinclaire yells out, jolting at the sight of the two mercs bursting into his office. He’s still sat at his desk, hands raised in surrender as he looks at V, then his eyes drag over to Jackie. Staring down two barrels, he still finds it in him to sneer. 

“V…see you managed to find yourself a friend in the trash.” 

“Pair of crosshairs, both on ya, wouldn’t be mouthing off if I was you,” Jackie warns. 

“Someone wi-“ 

“Already iced your muscle and got control of the cams,” V explains, smirking as his ego deflates, “the only way you’re getting out of here alive is if you tell me where the cargo is.” 

“Seriously, all this over some ca-“ 

V cocks her gun and presses it to his forehead, finger on the trigger, held in one hand so she can still sign. 

“Either I get the cargo or I get revenge; take your pick.” 

“In the tank behind you.” 

“Jackie.” She doesn’t want them to both turn their back on Sinclaire, slimy fuck that he is. 

“What don’t trust me?” 

She cracks her pistol across his cheek, the force of it knocking him out of his chair and onto the floor. V steps on his back, gun still pointed at his dome as she presses her weight down on him. The pale of his cheek starts to turn purple and she feels just a touch of satisfaction knowing she’s dealt him even a fraction of the harm he dealt her. 

“Iguana, lesser Antillean I think,” Jackie calls out and with the new position she’s put Sinclaire in she’s able to crane her neck to see. A large tank with a bright green lizard, black around his face, and red spines down it’s back. 

“What!?”  Her voice comes out along with her signing, distorting and layering over the artificial one, unable to contain her temper as she looks down at Sinclaire, pressing her foot down harder on him, “did you try to kill me over a fuckin’ lizard!?” 

“You got any idea how much that thing’s worth?”

She pulls her foot off of him just to grab his shirt collar, dragging Sinclaire back up to his feet. V keeps one hand wrapped up in his collar and uses the other to press the gun against his back. She shoves him, he tries to resist, but despite their size difference V is easily able to out strength him. The former nomad drags him through his penthouse and out the door, across the hallway towards a door. Jackie’s steps echo through the building as he covers her, keeping a lookout for any new guards that may show. She kicks the door open from behind Sinclaire, the flights of stairs greeting them, one’s going down and the ones that go up to the roof. 

“T-bug, roof?” V asks, voice still distorted and echoing through the filter of her mask, unable to sign with her hand full. 

“No muscle up there, you’re good.” 

“Look, we can talk about this V, w-“ 

“Move.”  She jabs her gun into the small of his back, emphasizing her point. Sinclaire marches up the stairs as she forces him upwards, they reach the final door that leads out and V kicks it open like she did the last before making him walk through. 

The former nomad forces him out onto the roof of the megabuilding, cool air hitting her fevered skin. They don’t stop moving, V’s eyes trained on the edge of the roof as she pushes him forward. He babbles, utterances and insistence that they can work this out; but she’s pissed and he has to pay. He’s not going to get away with it, no one is ever going to get away with treating her like this again. 

Sinclaire stops moving, feet cemented in place just before he hits the edge, still trying to beg for his life as he resists her pushing on his back and neck. 

“V, please, please we can ta-“ 

His voice cuts to a scream as she shoves him as hard as she can with both hands, knocking him off balance and sending him over the side of the building. She watches as his body plummets; a low whistle ringing out beside her. 

“Long way down, ya know I heard folks die before they even hit the ground on falls like that.” 

“That’s a shame,” she signs, shaking her head, she wanted him to feel it when his head hits the concrete. 

“Feel any better?” 

“Yeah, lets klep the lizard and run before someone asks questions.” 

“No rush, pigs will just think he offed himself, happens all the time.” 

“Good to know.” 

“Still wouldn’t throw yourselves a party up there, NCPD might come check the area once it’s reported.” T-bug warns over the comms. 

“Yeah, in like two days, chill Bug,” Jackie assures her as him and V leave the roof, taking the stairs back down to the penthouse. 

There’s a weight off of V’s shoulders as she and Jackie return to Sinclaire’s penthouse office. She hefts a little sigh as she sees the bright green iguana and she’s reminded of Jackie’s earlier comment, called it a lesser antil-something. 

“You know a lot about iguanas?” she asks him, he has Taco after all, he seems to like fish and lizards. 

“Ah, saw something about ‘em on the science channel,” he looks to the iguana, calmly sitting in it’s tank, “you come a long way, my scaley friend.” 

She can see a softness in Jackie’s smile, and she can’t blame him, the iguana is adorable. Tentatively, V lowers her hand down into the terrarium. She nudges her fingers against the lizard, feeling it’s bumpy skin that’s been warmed under a heat lamp. It’s tail flicks against her just before it turns to knock it’s face against her hand, nuzzling under the touch. She can’t help but smile, signing with her free hand to Jackie. 

“Yeah, I’d kill me for him too.” 

Jackie laughs as the iguana latches it’s claws into her hoodie sleeve, before climbing up the length of her arm. She lets out a soft little exclamation as the reptile makes it’s way to her shoulder, burrowing itself into the junction where her neck and shoulder meet. 

“Awww cuddly fucker,” Jackie coos, smiling softly at V and her new snuggle buddy. 

“He’s…probably worth a lot…” She slowly signs, unable to have much energy at the idea of selling him. V wants to make the money she meant to make, iguanas are rare, but…he’s very cute.  And maybe she’s too much of a softie for animals.

“Yeah, a shame too, been wanting another pet, Taco’s got some age on him now…Had the name Manny all figured out too.” 

“Are the two of you, serious?” T-bug comments, rolling her eyes in the holoview, “all of this and you want to keep the lizard?” 

“I mean…I don’t want him to fall into the wrong hands,” V tries to defend herself. 

“Iguanas have very specific needs, not just anyone can take care of ‘em,” Jackie adds.

“But you’re like, an iguana expert, basically.” 

“Basically.” 

“And I mean, if you and Mama Welles don’t mind having me around a while longer, I won’t need the cash right away.” 

“Hell no, we don’t mind.” 

“Just keep the damn thing and shut up,” T-bug scolds, sick of them trying to justify it.��

“C’mon, let’s get Manny home and set up,” Jackie explains, unplugging the heat lamp so he can grab it along with the tank. 

“We gotta keep him warm, right?” 

“Yep, can’t let him get chilled.”

She nods, deciding to scoop up Manny and move him from her shoulder to putting him in her hoodie, hugging him close to her body over the fabric. V feels a bit like she’s cradling a baby, which isn’t terribly off base. Manny is now her child, she has decided. Jackie starts to carry the iguana stuff out of the penthouse, cutting through the kitchen with V trailing behind him. 

V jumps and yelps, a loud popping noises and sparks flying out of a toaster as she walks past. She clutches Manny to her chest, the iguana clinging to her under her hoodie after the startle. 

“Impressed?” T-bug asks, raising an eyebrow and V tries desperately to suppress her smile at the joke. A part of her mad that she was caught off guard by the trick, damn netrunners. 

“I’m something, alright, scared the shit out of me.”  

“Holy shit,” Jackie says with a smile teasing at the corner of his lips, “Bug making jokes, I must be dying.” 

“Fuck off, cutting comms, now.”  

“Talk to you later, Bug.” 

“Hmm, maybe, we’ll see how I feel,” T-bug teases, “nice meeting you V.” 

“Thanks again for the help, and the minor heart attack I guess.” 

“Anytime.” 

“I’m not sure if you mean the help or the heart attack.” 

“Could go either way.”  T-bug tells her before cutting communication, the woman’s face blinking from V’s mask. The merc laughs, softly at the exchange as she pushes the mask up onto her head.  T-bug seems nice underneath it all, colder than Jackie, but most people are. The teddy bear of a guy is hard to compete with warmth wise. 

She trails behind Jackie as the pair leave to the elevator. V leans against one wall of the elevator, against one of the bright screens that play ads, looking down at Manny tucked in her hoodie. He’s too cute. Jackie gives her a wink before he hits the button on the elevator and it lurches into movement. 

“Once we get little mano here set up, we’ll head over to Misty’s.” 

“Misty?” She fingerspells the name out, cocking her head to the side in question. 

“My mainline,” he gets a dreamy little smile on his face, “mi amada, you’ll love her, she’s the sweetest thing” 

“Oooooh~”

“Jesus fuck!”  V yells out and jumps to hide behind Jackie at the sudden keening moan in her ear, holding Manny tighter to her chest.

“Pfff,” Jackie’s shoulders shake, before he busts out in laughter, clutching at his stomach. 

Heat flushes up to V’s hairline as she sees the source of her distress, the screen she’d been leaning against now display an advertisement for Milfgaard some cougar website with a scantily clad older woman spreading her legs and moaning. She threw a man off a building and the scariest parts of her day have been a toaster and a porn ad. 

“My god, you’re wound tighter than a clock, Jaina,” he teases her. 

“Shut up.” 

“We have got to loosen you up,” he tells her as they step out the elevator and back out the lobby of the megabuilding. 

She carefully pulls her bag and her mother’s guitar case on her shoulders, making sure not to shuffle Manny too much before she trots off behind Jackie. There’s already cop cars pulling up behind the megabuilding as the two mercs disappear into the crowd. 

Once Manny is settled in his tank next to Taco’s and V’s stuff is put aside in Jackie’s room; her new friend is pulling her back out of the house. He’s pure excitement accentuated by a wide grin as he shows her the city and god it has it’s problems, what place doesn’t, but there’s something to it. She could write a list of flaws from the corps to the trash, to the cruelty, to the poverty, and homelessness that run rampant there. 

‘Hellooooo there Night City!’

But there’s an energy she can’t describe. 

Night City has a magic to it, it’s the only way she can define it. Neon lights distract her from the trash that covers every corner. The constant thrum of music helping drown out the just as constant sound of gunfire. Something is magnetic and she understands why so many people are drawn to such a place. 

‘Stanley,  here with you and we got another day ahead of us in this city of dreams!’

She meets Misty; Jackie’s mainline in her candle lit shop for tarot readings and chakra realignments. The pair adorable as Jackie spins the blonde goth around in his arms. She says V has a nice aura but her chakras are misalligned, which sounds dumb to the merc, but Misty says it with such a sweet smile and V loses the will to tell her as much. Turns out the oil smell in Jackie’s blankets is diluted cedarwood oil that Misty gives him to keep away negative energy and aura blockages. 

Misty reads her tarot cards not long after they meet, her cards frayed and worn, as she tells V what the hanged man card means. V doesn’t buy into any of it; but Misty is kind and earnest, the merc willing to entertain her eccentricities if only to say in Misty’s company. V learns her aura is a bright cyan blue, is given a chrysocolla crystal which provides energy for a fresh start, and lavender oil to encourage relaxation and sleep. How Misty knew her sleep struggles, she has no idea, but the lavender does help her relax so why look a gift horse in the mouth.  She signs a thanks while tucking the rollerball of oil into her pocket. 

‘Ooh, I love this town!’ 

V meets Vik the same day, trying to hide her nerves at being in a clinic as Jackie and the ripperdoc playfully punch at each other. He’s a sweet older man, tattoos and jewelry showing his love for boxing. He doesn’t even get mad the first time he tries to even look over her and she has a panic attack, accidentally kicking him in the groin, before the ripperdoc glove can even touch her. She apologizes like her life depends on it, hands aching by the time she’s done signing it. He laughs it off, laughs harder when she jokes about not getting candy for being a good patient.

The next time he tries, he stops himself. Face contorting when he’s able to get as far as a diagnostic report this time, seeming stressed by the results. He asks about her autoimmune disease, diagnostics picking up on her overactive antibodies. She can nearly see his heart sinking, like she’s his own child and not just a stranger who freaked out on his table one time. He’s horrified to know her condition has gone completely untreated, that her fear of doctors kept her from getting the treatment she needed. She doesn’t explain where the fear comes from, not wanting to recount her experiences with the clan doctor, the fear of having treatments done against her will. He warns her that while it’s not attacking her eyes or joints as aggressively, overtime and without any treatment it could take the eyes next, the muscles, the joints, the organs. Her entire body could with time destroy itself. Before he fathoms giving her implants, he puts her on immunosuppressants. Making her sure her health is stable, that her body has calmed in attacking itself . Only then, do they go back to the idea of installing cyberware, she even gets a lolly along with her shot and pills; Vik leaning into her dumb joke. 

She takes the personal link and neural slots well, cyberdeck and the like added. But the idea of losing her eyes is too much, he says he’ll work with her. He works with her lot, both on the money and with her own discomfort. Vik doesn’t press a “fix” for her hearing, instead beefing up her hearing aids so she has more control over the volume and so she can tune it to police scanners; not that she has any intention of doing contract work for the pigs, but it’s good to know what they’re up to if nothing else.  He doesn’t even get mad when she nearly breaks her personal link a day after him installing it, unable to stop playing with the damn thing. 

‘Love it like you might love a mother who popped you out on the steps of an orphanage once and now stops to ask you if you got a smoke for her!’

In a few weeks he’s gotten her contacts that work like optics and helped her fashion a choker with the same AI translator of sign language; for when she chooses to ditch the mask. He also has candy, leaning into her dumb joke, and for the first time she feels like she can trust a doctor. And she doesn’t go anywhere else, even if she catches a bullet in Pacifica, she makes Jackie haul her ass to Watson to see Vik. 

She soon learns that she and Jackie just work. There’s a synergy to their partnership, an understanding and balance that shows in their merc work. He’s stronger than her, knows the streets and people of Night City better than she could ever hope. But she’s stealthier, quieter, and cleaner in her work. She leads the charge when dropping targets quietly and he runs the show when they’re going in guns ablazing. Though he always tries to keep her safe, perhaps out of care and perhaps out of a sense of obligation. It’d be smothering if it weren’t endearing. 

‘Every new day here, means another hundred new arrivals!’

It’s not all cherries on sundaes, the two don’t always get along and butt heads more than once. Mostly over gigs; money vs morality. She won’t take corp or cop cash, unless it’s stolen; they want work they can find some other gonk. Jackie says cash is cash, no matter who’s paying. She gets the pragmatism but can’t do it, shutting down a fixer the second she learns their money is coming from Biotechnica. Jackie isn’t happy, but he respects the call. They agree to disagree, if he wants to take those gigs, he can do them without her. He doesn’t take it in the end, she wonders if he doesn’t want to solo it or if she managed to get him thinking about where his money comes from. 

“But only half these gonks will survive a year and that’s if it’s a good one.” 

They find a steady routine and flow; working gigs, grabbing lunch with Misty and Vik, more gigs, dinner with Mama Welles, maybe a few more jobs and maybe hitting the bars to spend the eddies they just made. Regular trips to the black market to pick up some ammo and firearms. He has a date with Misty about every week, something V always takes the time to mock. But it’s all in good fun. Some night her and Jackie fall asleep on the couch in a heap watching movies, waking up with Mama Welles having thrown a blanket over them. Other nights she spends at a Kabuki motel, wrapped up in whoever she picked up at the bar. 

She experiences her first braindance, loses a tooth when they sneak into the Riot nightclub, gets in another police chase, and sees her first pair of Mantis Blades when they’re coming for her head. V realizes Mama Welles runs the Coyote Cujo and gets better introduced to the staff there; including a busboy named Jake who finds his way into her pants quite easily.  

‘And why do these peeps come to NC?’ 

And then a month has gone by and she has no idea where it went. 

V spends her saved back money on a car before she rents an apartment; sick of using the train. Nothing like trying to move a dead body on public transit. Jackie helps her pick it out, the car sold to her by Padre, because every fixer apparently doubles as a car salesman. It only seemed right for her to buy from him and to get Jackie’s approval before she made the purchase. Her bobblehead sits on the dashboard proudly.  

She helps Jackie pick out a new deck of tarot cards for Misty,  spending an entire day browsing mystical shops before they find the perfect one. Misty adores them and gives the mercs readings as soon as she opens the box, feeling a connection to the cards. 

‘Well, to be street samurai like Morgan Blackhand and Waylon Boa Boa!” 

Misty and Vik hear her voice, no mask, for the first time on a sunny day after she accidentally launched herself down the stairs in front of the doc’s clinic in an office chair. Laughing as Vik asked her if she was stupid and telling him, “yes.” Because who is she to deny the truth? 

In between gigs, Jackie drags her down to Jig Jig street, the most perverse section of Night City. Sex shops, strippers, and joytoys as far as the eye can see. He gives her hell for the way cheeks flush red, they’re there for fun and not business so the mask is off, she’s still not used to the brazen displays of sexuality a person finds in the city. But, despite her awkwardness, she’s far from opposed to it. 

‘The greater the risk, the bigger the bounty!” 

She childishly demands Vik and Jackie teach her how to box when she finds out there’s a club for it that they both attend. V manages to last a round with Jackie, but only by being fast enough not to get hit, taunting him until he gets a punch in on the second round and knocks her ass to the ground. He apologized a thousand times but all she could do was laugh. Misty has it on camera, as she should. 

Misty shows V her little rooftop get away on top of her shop, her zen garden with plastic chairs where they can spend time together when they need a nicer view during lunch, Misty, Jackie, Vik, and V eat their Chinese food takeout or whatever they’ve decided on up there. Once or twice V finds herself going up there alone at night, just to take in the way the neon lights of the city hit the black sky. The city may have been named after its founder, but she finds it more apt to describe when the city is at its most beautiful. 

 She also gets to witness a rare spat between Misty and Jackie when she catches the merc’s dangling a target over the side of said roof to get information. Jackie letting go of the guy to try to apologize for ruining the aura of the roof; while V struggled to hold him up…and eventually dropped him. But Jackie bought Misty some sage to cleanse the roof, so all well that ends well. 

‘Or so they say!’ 

Another month gone by like she blinked it away. 

T-bug starts to work with them again, off and on. Jackie told her she only owed him a favor and didn’t work with him long term. But she reconnects, helping get them more jobs and helping the jobs run even smoother with a trusted security expert on their side. She teaches V how to use quick hacks, but the merc still prefers blades and baseball bats. Mostly just using them to blind folks before she stabs them. 

She catches a bullet in Santo Domingo, a 6th street member trying to settle a score and she refuses to go to anyone but Vik. The merc holds her hand to her wound as Jackie drives them to Watson. It’s the first time she’s ever seen Vik mad, he patches her up but he scolds her for hours after, that she should have seen the nearest doc. That she could have died. And she has no excuse, but she knows she’d do it again. 

‘But you can only be a major league player for so long!” 

A gig drags V and Jackie out to a supposedly haunted old building; Misty tags along, nearly bouncing at the prospect of contacting spirits. V learns that Jackie is afraid of ghosts and spends the entire job trying to entice the supposed specters into eviscerating her. They all leave unscathed though Jackie looked on the verge of tears. 

T-bug hacks a Militch training datashard at some point and V decides to try to play through it, interested in learning any new tips or tricks that could help her. The netrunning lessons are the most useful, Bug managing to help even an idiot like V figure out how to do some quick hacks and use daemons. She also gains a new appreciation for being called maggot by her friend. Bug definitely had way too much fun play sergeant. 

During a job, Jackie and V hear a man yelling into his phone demanding to know if the person on the other end fucked his wife. They lose their minds laughing and lose the person they were tracking for a good hour. Misty and Vik think they’ve gone nuts when they spend the rest of the day mimicking the stranger to make each other laugh; seeing who can scream “did you fuck my wife!?” the loudest without shame. Jackie wins. 

‘The faster you live, the faster you burn out!’ 

Vik catches her eyeing the projectile launcher system implant; essentially a rocket launcher that goes into the forearm. She’d love to have that sheer amount of firepower at will, plus unlike other weapon implants it’s only on one arm, less intrusive for the cyberware shy merc. The ripper offers to install it for her on credit and she nearly chokes, amazed that he’d be so kind, maybe he just trusts her when she says she doesn’t go to any other doc. But she refuses, not willing to take advantage of his good graces. Deciding instead to save up once she gets the apartment. 

She meets Cecelia, a waitress at Tom’s Diner, an older woman with pretty eyes. Jackie nearly rolls his eyes out of his head when V starts flirting, giving her even more shit about V’s taste in older men and women after she gets Cecelia in bed. Along with Jake, she becomes one of her rare repeat bedmates. They’re both significantly older than the young merc, each with children, and not interested in anything deeper than rolling around in the sheets, after all anyone with eyes can see V’s not stepparent material. There’s no danger of them wanting more, so V’s happy to return to them when she wants something more familiar than a one-night stand. 

‘If you don’t get a bullet to the brain first!’ 

Misty gets confused when V signs Jackie’s name sign, instead of fingerspelling it. Optics getting the translation off and muddled. So, the merc is left explaining the inability of optic tech to translate name signs due to their highly individualized nature. Jackie’s name sign to her is only that, his name sign to her. It’s not mind reading tech…yet.  Her cheeks flush red when she has to explain that Jackie’s name sign for her is a combination of the sign for the letter ‘J’ and the sign for ‘brother.  Fingerspelling J, then bringing that fist with the pinky out onto an “L” shape formed by her other hand. Jackie pulls her into a hug immediately after, nearly crushing the air out of her lungs. She’s less timid during this hug, he tells her she’s getting better, but it still needs work. 

Vik, Misty, and Jackie take to trying to learn more sign language; letting V teach them whenever they all find a spare moment. Mama Welles even uses a few, picking them up from V and Jackie. The merc tears up, none of them are fluent, but they’re trying. Trying to learn for her and she’s so rarely had anyone care enough to try for her; her sister and mother the only one of the nomad family who knew it fluently, who took the time to learn. Ava learned a few then stopped bothering. Years of no one caring enough to learn for her, but even with all the tech in the world to get around it, they still try. She doesn’t explain her tears, and no one makes her, Misty just gently rubbing her back as they continue with the  lesson. 

Jackie helps her with Spanish in return, just as they talked about. Some things are intentionally taught to her, other just picked up. Pendejo is forever ingrained in her head.  Though, a part of her wonders how much use it really will be, if maybe Jackie just likes that she has to talk during these lessons. She’s become more comfortable with talking with him verbally. It happens naturally, over their time together. That when it’s just him and her, she’ll find herself talking along with her sign language. But, she’s still tight-lipped when she ventures outside her new social circle. She doesn’t think she’ll ever have it in her to be completely verbal. 

Another month gone…

“NC’s Legends! Know where you’ll find most of them?”

Taco passes away, the mini-shark was an older pet even when Jackie first got him. He knew it was coming, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. They hold a makeshift funeral for Taco, Misty and V hugging Jackie as he cries. Mama Welles makes his favorite foods for dinner and V stays with him through a movie night. It doesn’t make things magically okay, he hurts and he grieves the lost of his friend. But he’s not alone and they fall asleep on the couch in a heap. He spends the next night at Misty’s and V finds herself wishing that Misty and Mama Welles got along better, that they all could have been there to support Jackie that first night. 

She knows he’s back on the upswing when they find an abandoned grocery cart and he offers to push her around in it. V calls it a dumb idea than promptly climbs inside. Jackie gets a long running start and heavy push of his foot before putting both feet up, letting them ride out the distance, giggling like children. Then they hit a hill and flip at the bottom of it, on the ground staring at the stars and giggling like concussed children. 

At some point in the month a client invites them to an orgy after they drop off the goods they were asked to steal. V finally gets her revenge for Jig Jig street, Jackie’s face turning red all the way to the tips of his ears. He refuses and runs to tell Misty as soon as he can, as if even getting the invite makes him feel guilty. Jackie’s the only one who ever finds out about whether V went, a secret she likes to keep close to her heart. 

V gets…acquainted with her first exotic partner, that is to say someone who’s had animal based body mods done. She’s seen the cat ears and tails and nearly got bit by a ganger with fangs; but the full anthropomorphic furry mods took her by surprise.  Some people played Sonic as a kid and just never looked back, she supposes. Not that she can judge, she did spot the heavily modded bunny exotic girl across a bar and decide why not. It was an interesting night, the fur took getting use to, and she thinks the girl was a little sick of V petting her ears after a while. 

Her and Jackie find an illegal firearms dealer, her best friend finding a pair of pistols he loves. They’re embellished with gold and he proudly brandishes them, spinning them in his hands and giving her a grin a mile wide. 

And another month finds it’s end. 

“The Graveyard.” 

She’s fallen into the habit of using her mask during her work and using the choker with the contacts during her personal time. It keeps business a bit more separate and she feels more secure in the hiding of her identity this way, most fixers and clients don’t know what V looks like. not that she worries much about The Herd anymore. The days blink by faster and faster without her ever thinking that her former family might have an inkling of where she is. Despite the polluted air, she’s breathing easier. 

There’s a few rumors among mercs and fixers about what her deal is, why she hides her face. From burns, cyberware gone wrong, to some mutated twin stuck on her head. She encourages them, finding each new crazy idea funnier than the last. Her favorite is just telling people she was born with a bad case of ugly and seeing their reaction. None of them are any the wiser when they pass her unmasked on the street, thinking her just some other Night City citizen and not the same merc. 

“Matters not where you’re from.” 

In her six month in Night City, she finally gets an apartment to herself. Not wanting to have spent half a year mooching off of the Welles family. Even if Mama Welles insists it’s no trouble, that she’s a delight to have around and her stress cleaning has done wonders for their home. She still can’t bring herself to spend the rest of her day living off their good graces. Mama Welles holds her face and kisses the top of her head before she leaves, making her promise to come see her again. 

Her apartment is in a megabuilding in Watson, one of the worst districts in Night City, though better than Pacifica she supposes. She’s on the eighth floor, the buildings all get nicer the higher up you get and have at least twenty levels. It is far from grand but it’s hers. Jackie and Misty help her move in, as well as decorate. Putting pictures and fairy lights up over her enclosed bed, another strand of lights across the opening for it and over top of the shuddered windows.  And install a sensor on the door that will make a bright red light shine if someone knocks, so she can see it if she has her hearing aids out. The apartment only comes with a microwave and vending machine as far as food goes, no kitchen or fridge. But there is a stash room for weaponry because guns are more important than getting to cook for herself.  But beggars can’t be choosers, Misty even brings some purifying crystals and burns sage to keep the energy clean even if the apartment floor isn’t. 

She gets to know some of her neighbors and people who run businesses on the services floor of the megabuilding. Wilson runs the Second Amendment gun store on the floor below hers, he’s a curmudgeon of an older guy who runs away most customers with his consistent yelling about respecting firearms. But he doesn’t seem to mind her, maybe because his yelling didn’t scare her away. 

“Matter not where you start.” 

Brooks is an  enby with green cat ears on the floor above her sells V edibles, pot brownies and cookies whenever she has the spare eddies. It helps her sleep a little easier on nights where she doesn’t have a partner and eases some of her anxiety that still pops up every now and again. 

The guy who lives in the apartment just below her own is a beat cop named Barry. Something she learns when she’s playing music with her hearing aids out, top volume so she can feel the vibrations rattling her bones and shaking the walls. It apparently shook his walls too and he came knocking on the door. She didn’t get a chance to read his lips when she answered the door, but judging by the drop on his face when she started signing, she suspects he might have been demanding to know if she was ‘fuckin’ deaf or something’. Despite his job, he’s an alright guy and they find themselves talking a few times after laughing off the exchange. If he quit, maybe she’d consider calling him a friend someday. 

“What matters here is the walk you walk.” 

Things in Night City are good, really good for her. There’s conflict and struggles along the way, she collects new scars. The bullet in Santa Domingo, a mantis blade catching her gut, wolvers skimming her back, and bit by a ganger with vampire mods just to name a few. Night City rattles and rolls her, some days she craves the clean air and open road of the Badlands. She’d be lying if she said otherwise. But there’s an ease in the city, in the people she’s found that make it feel like another home. 

She’s laughing and smiling more than she has ever before. V’s able to joke and play around, find a sense of humor and excitement in her life rather than just fear. She’s free to do her merc work, set her own rules and still make a mark. Her and Jackie are steadily carving their place into the ecosystem of the city. She’s showing her strength, her capability, her resilience. She’s not defective, she’s a merc on the rise, a couple fixers go to. She’s got money in her pocket; a roof and food she got with said money.

And she’s got a family, a real one, not made of blood but love. At least she loves them and she hopes they’ve managed to find something in her worth loving. In a dirty city of neon, she managed to find her place in this world, not where she expected but she’s exactly where she needs to be. 

‘In Night City, the city of dreams!’ 

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #fem v #silverv #johnny silverhand #jackie welles #i hope its not disingenuous to tag johnny when he hasn't shown up yet #can you feel the sun? #aidan becker #aidan v becker

[ihatecispeople]

okay your cursed heat question gave me a genuine question: i assume that psychiatric medications count as vital medication, but does that count as having a chronic condition? and if i'm understanding correctly, does a chronic condition prevent you from needing to make up your fast later? i guess i (hypothetically, e.g.) could just take my meds at night since i take them with food anyway, but i couldn't miss even a day of meds to fast at any point in the year w/o side effects.

ok again: not an islamic scholar. these are just what ive gathered Being A Sunni Muslim within the ummah

alright, so yeah, if you have a chronic condition, lets say you’re old, you’re not obliged to supplicate any missed fast. it’s not like you’ll stop being old just because ramadan is over. though fasting is one of the five pillars of islam, each pillar can be broken if it causes harm to you or you’re unable to fulfil it. zakat, obligatory almsgiving, and hajj, pilgrimage to mekka, are both excused if you don’t have the funds to spare. or are not allowed into saudi arabia. or etc etc. these obligations is to make the individual a better person, not to punish someone already in a bad position

so when i have needed to take oral medicine in the past (once a day, in combination with food intake) during ramadan, i usually spent two weeks before ramadan to shift the time i take the medication at. i usually take any medication at night anyways since i only eat breakfast half of the time, so i would just have a snack after dinner as i took the medication in preparation for ramadan. you wouldnt then actually end up missing a dose, nor breaking your fast. it’s a “chronic” condition in as such that needing the medication obviously won’t go away anytime soon, but when it comes to relief from fasting without supplication we’re talking about a chronic condition which stands in the way of fasting, specifically.

regarding supplication: the only day where making up for lost fasting days is prohibited is eid al fitr, as it is the celebration of the end of the holy month. you could technically make up all days you missed right after that - commonly, we’re talking between 1 to 7 days for those that miss fasts without intention. or you could wait until you’re ready again. maybe you shift your medication pattern to night again for that, and you wouldn’t end up missing a dose!

however, if you end up in a bad state due to your medication in relation to fasting, you would be considered as having a chronic condition which exempts you from fasting - especially if a doctor also advices you not to fast. now you can’t just trust any old doctor since most western doctors that either aren’t muslim or at least exposed to many muslim patients will give the most bogus reasons for you not to fast. i was told i shouldn’t fast because i take testosterone. ummm?? do men with their own testosterone production not fast? i’ve ALSO been told not to fast because i’m fat (with no other health conditions). as if fatties in muslim countries don’t fast... so i’ve SOMETIMES told my physician im slowly delaying the time i take my daily dose and sometimes not, depending on how much i trust them and what i’ve gathered through hinting at being someone that does fast

so IF say you are a muslim, or want to fast together with an important muslim in your life, and you discussed with an imam if you should fast, i suspect the answer would be: change your medication time, try it out, and if you have bad reactions to the medication + no food/water combination, talk to your doctor and follow their advice on how to continue. (all this also goes the other way though -_- like there’s a lot of islamic pushback against considering eating disorders a condition which exempts you from fasting, because “true belief in Allah should alleviate the eating disorder during ramadan” which of course is insane and physicians are the first to tell you to not fast because it can be really bad for you)

#tieflng #sorry for the mile long response stephen SOB EMOJI

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AWAE 1x5 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

Here I am again with another AWAE rewatch. Writing these takes longer than you might think, so I don’t know how regular I can keep those coming, but I’ll see what I can do. For the time being, let’s dive into another episode:

And this episode opens in the best way possible - with Shirbert’s first spelling scene. Little did we know how important those would become - although reading the books kind of gave us a hint of it. And yet, this is one of the added charms of this incarnation of the story.

I have to say Mr. Philips is not being subtle with the words he is giving them to spell.

And there goes Gilbert’s first skipped E - in the word engagement, no less. That letter was given a lot more emphasis here than in the source material, and I live for it. 

“Anne, are you feeling alright?” Knowing what milestone Anne experiences later on in this episode, Anne’s discomposure probably has little to do with Gilbert’s effect on her. But who can ever know for sure? I have to say, this episode had one of the cold opens I call “gold opens”. 

And there it goes - Anne’s dramatic reaction to her first period. Is this an appropriate time to complain about the lack of health ed kids get in this setting? I mean, she would not have reacted like this if she had been talked to about this and knew what to expect. I doubt anyone’s reaction would be any different if they didn’t know what periods were, woke up in pain one night and discovered they were bleeding. Also, Anne better not be soaking that thing in hot water, or else the stain is never coming out. 

Anne’s “I’m not ready to be a woman” speaks so much to me. WARNING: intimate personal experience coming up. I remember my first period. I had just turned fourteen about a month prior, and I had pretty much stopped anxiously awaiting it after I had done so since they talked about it in health class when I was 12. So, when I went into school for a test one day 6 years ago - I was really sick so I only went in for the test in the middle of the school day - I was focusing on the material and on suppressing my sneezes so I wouldn’t spread the flu to others. I was not at all expecting to go into that test a girl and come back home  a woman. Yes, I was in pain, but I thought it was the usual stress pains I would get during important tests amplified by my sickness. Anyway, so after that day, for years after, I would cry when I got my period and insist that “I am not a woman, I do not need this” and this emotion was so strong in me that it would result in progesterone deficiency and my period would skip for months and I would be on meds for so long. Then, when I was 17, I talked to a therapist about this and it turned out my refusing to accept I was a woman (as opposed to a girl, not that I was questioning my gender) was making my body try to suppress my womanhood. So yeah, it was tough. But I’m ok now and Anne’s reaction just brought out this personal memory. I’m sorry. Maybe I didn’t need to tell you all this, but it’s closely tied to my reception of this episode, so the way I see it I couldn’t go without it. 

The way Marilla shooed Matthew out made me think. Was the existence of periods supposed to be kept a total secret from men at the time? Because that is not ok. Even today, there are a lot of men in the world, probably the majority of them, who don’t know the simplest thing about periods.Those are men who have mothers, sisters, girlfriends, daughters - they interact with women close to them and they at least need to know what to do and what not to do to make that time of the month easier for the women in their lives. But they don’t because nobody teaches them. This is just another part of making periods seem like a shameful thing that is to be kept secret at all times. And that’s not ok. But we’ll get back to that in future scenes.

While Anne is turning into a woman physically, Gilbert has to grow up too fast in a different way. What he has to go through with, and then without his father is just heartbreaking. Getting your period is a good and healthy, if unpleasant, way to grow up; losing your father - just the opposite.

Marilla cracks me up. “That explains all the children” is her hilariously deadpan response to Rachel saying she’d rather be pregnant. And I’m glad to see both women find it as hilarious as I do.

I’m even happier to see the girls at school are laughing together, too. However, things get serious quite suddenly. Apparently, Anne has just told them about her new maturity, so now they’re all sharing their experience. However, Ruby reminds me a lot of me in the same situation. Remember that health class I had when I was 12? It provoked a lot of discussion among us girls afterwards, and that was incredibly awkward for me because I was apparently the only one who didn’t have it yet. So yeah, I was Ruby in this situation, but I would go on to become Anne saying “Trust me, if I could give you mine, I would.” It reminds me of another personal story, and you’ll have to excuse me for telling it. A lot of my personal stories are coming out here, but I guess it’s the topic of the episode and there’s no way for me to comment on it without relating those stories. So, about a year ago when my 11yo cousin told me she’d gotten hers, I was in another one of my so-called “period-less periods” and I was seriously worried about my health. So, naturally, I was like “If I could take yours, I would.” Because, you know, it’s normal if you don’t have it at 11, but it is seriously concerning if you’re a 19-year old virgin going two months without her period. So, you see, I’ve been at so many points within the spectrum. Well, I’ll try to comment only on the episode from here on and not share my entire medical past. 

“Nice boys never say people eat insects”. I quote that pretty much on a daily basis - every time someone mentions mnemonic devices. It’s hilarious. One of my university professors went out of her way to say those two words as many times as she could one time last year and I could not contain my laughter thinking of this quote, courtesy of Gilbert Blythe.

Anne acts just the way I do on my period - ok, I said no more personal details, but that barely counts. It’s just, Anne is so relatable. But also, when she says “Nothing appeals to me, Marilla” - I know what you need, Anne. You need chocolate. But did they have chocolate like we do?

My, I had forgotten this was when the raspberry cordial incident happens. This should be fun. And then heartbreaking. But it’s kinda fun in the long run, you know.

Wait, is Matthew going to order a puff sleeved dress for Anne? Is this that? I mean, it has to be since he rarely leaves Green Gables unless it’s for something really important. And if this is important to Anne, then you bet it’s also important to Matthew. You gotta love that man.

Of course Anne would be wearing the special ribbon Marilla Gave her. And of course she would invest all of her energy into that tea party. This is beautiful. Too bad one little mistake will have to ruin things...

Matthew is visibly uncomfortable amid the crowd in town, but he’s doing this for Anne and that means he has to do it, even if it’s out of his comfort zone. Even if Marilla might disapprove. The world needs more men like Matthew Cuthbert. 

If Diana’s family had seen the manner in which Anne welcomed her to tea, they might have disregarded her mistake at the end, but alas, they didn’t. It was as classy and sophisticated as could be. The end was an innocent mistake. 

Ok, but how funny would it be if the first bottle Anne picked up was actually the cordial she was looking for? That was kinda like putting down the correct answer on a test, then correcting it to the wrong one. I know I said it’s funny, but now that I put it like this, it’s just as upsetting as it has always seemed to me.

“Will you take me with you, you have to take me”... imagine Anne at finishing school. Just imagine. 

Ah, yes, alcohol brings out the immature side of even the most dignified young ladies. There’s nothing like seeing Diana Barry, the poster girl for classy, shouting “Bosoms!” and giggling with her best friend. Her highly controlled young life finally saw a moment of blissful immaturity. What a pity it will end in tears. 

I see Matthew has finally opened up - and of course he has, he is talking about Anne. He just loves her so much. Ever since I was first introduced to the books, I’ve always thought it’s such a wonderful mistake that Anne ended up with the Cuthberts. It made life better for them as well as for her. 

Little Matthew reminds me a little bit of Cole - quiet and gentle, but, as Jeannie said, knows how to “make himself known”.  And also I love them both with all my heart. 

Oh my, so this is the reason Matthew had to leave school - because Michael passed away? I had forgotten. Well, thanks for breaking my heart a second time. But well, I brought this upon myself by deciding to rewatch the entire series. 

“A dignified affair”... if Marilla could see them now. Well, it’s better off that she can’t yet. Things are going down as it is, just let the fun last a little longer. 

And there we go. It’s like the whole world is falling apart. This is worse than that time in season 3 when Diana’s mother drags her away from the Baynard house. And both times it is just plain tragic because both Anne and the Baynards are beautiful, good people who are nothing but kind and loving to Diana, and yet her mother fails to see that anything else but what she has deemed appropriate for her daughter, can be good. 

If Marilla thinks some pairs of boots are “a frivolous expense”, I can’t imagine how she would react to the dress Matthew ordered for Anne. 

“I will never have another bosom friend” Well, no, you won’t have to, Diana. It might seem like it’s the end of the world now, but it won’t last. Then, of course, there will be that other time of separation, which, like the other parallel I drew regarding Diana’s mother forbidding her to fraternise with someone, has to do with Jerry. I don’t want to think about that one, but, you know - just like this one, that, too, was fixed within the next episode. Also, based on this scene, I totally see why people ship them. I mean, it lowkey reminds me of Rapunzel and Cass in the TTS finale. You should watch that show if you haven’t btw. 

Yes, Anne, life is so unfair, but not to you right now. To Gilbert. He’s losing his father. Forever. You just lost a friend for a little while. But of course, Anne knows neither one of those things. Life really is unfair, isn’t it?

“What wonderful red hair”, “I’ve heard nice things about you.” These must be some of the nicest things an adult who is not Matthew or Marilla has said to Anne in a long while. I wonder how that made her feel. If I were Anne, Gilbert’s father would have just made my day.

“Give my kind regards to Marilla” These words, coming from John Blythe, mean more than Anne and Gilbert can imagine. They mean more to me now that I’m watching this episode for the second time. That is why I love rewatches. 

“Fair and square” Another Shirbert moment that would go on to become iconic. In a way, this whole episode is. 

I see that, for once, Anne is putting her heart into her needlepoint. And not just hers, but, as it seems, Diana’s, too. She’s literally embroidered the words “kindred spirits” between two connected hearts. It’s beautiful. And sad to think that, as far as they know, they can never speak to each other again.

“I’ve come to realise that there are far bigger worries in the world” - is Anne referring to what Gilbert is going through with his father? Probably. I mean, being an orphan and going from one abusive household to another, Anne has probably never really had a relative to worry about. So she likely never even thought about how Gilbert feels taking care of his ill father until she saw it with her own eyes. This is why she won’t know how to properly react when John Blythe is gone. 

So, I was wondering what Jerry’s role in this very much iconic episode would be, and there it is - he will be the one to take the boots back and bring home Anne’s special dress. And return the button to Jeannie, of course. This is definitely a special part. And Jerry delivered - both figuratively and literally in this particular case.

Anne’s face seeing the big box on her bed is priceless. The moment she sees the dress inside - even more so. What is a moment of “frivolous expense” and “vanity” to see her dream come true. And, just like that, the Cuthberts are a happy family.

In this episode, we saw: Shirbert’s first spell-off with Gilbert’s first skipped E; Anne’s first period, commented on with a lot of personal details about mine; a memorable mnemonic device; the development of John Blythe’s illness; a sassy Marilla moment and the reason behind all of Rachel Lynde’s pregnancies; Matthew orders a puff sleeved dress for Anne and is reunited with an old... friend in the process; Anne invites Diana to tea with disastrous results; the (temporary) tragic end of a  beautiful friendship; Anne is older and wiser; Jerry delivers an important package; a happy ending to a tough week for Anne.

#anne with an e #anne with an e season 1 #awae #awae season 1 #renew anne with an e #renew awae #jnk watches awae #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #diana barry #jerry baynard #matthew cuthbert #marilla cuthbert #rachel lynde #ruby gillis #jane andrews #josie pye #tillie boulter #in matthew we trust

[nellie-elizabeth]

Grey's Anatomy: Snowblind (16x15)

I don't know what to even think at this point?

Cons:

I've gone on record saying that Tom Koracick is better than Owen Hunt in every conceivable way, but especially as regards Teddy Altman. But come on. This whole love triangle/quadrangle/pentangle or whatever is getting seriously out of hand. You've got Teddy and Owen, and then Owen and Amelia, Amelia and Link, Teddy and Tom... it's a freakin' mess, and I wish all of these people would get over their bullshit and just sort out their lives. I know that this kind of thing is par for the course on a show like this, but it just goes to show that there's a right way and a wrong way to write trope-filled stories. I've enjoyed plenty of love triangles and messy situations on this show in the past, but this is one that I cannot abide. Teddy is going to feel guilty as shit, Owen is going to find out Amelia's baby might be his, Link is going to cry about it some more... I'm already so exhausted.

Nico has been deflecting with Levi, not addressing the issue about him not being out to his parents. I've got to say, I really like Levi, but I'm feeling frustrated about Nico. They haven't given him as much time to develop, so when he basically gives Levi an ultimatum, telling Levi to stop trying to change him by forcing him to talk about his feelings... it's really hard to see both sides here. I honestly think that's a writing issue. I like Nico. I want to keep liking him, and I want to learn more about him whether or not he and Levi stay together. I just wish their story was being handled with a bit more care, especially after so many great Levi-centric story-lines in recent weeks.

Are they going to kill off Alex? This isn't a complaint about the episode, just a - what the fuck? My guess is maybe he found out he was terminally ill or something, and wanted to leave so Jo and Meredith wouldn't have to watch him die. I know the actor bailed out, and maybe there was drama there, who knows? But from a story-telling standpoint, Alex's exit has so far been very bizarre, and troubling to say the least. This guy has sixteen seasons' worth of development under his belt. It's completely bonkers that he would run off and abandon his wife. It doesn't track with reality at all.

Pros:

Teddy going over to Tom's and kissing him is really annoying, but I loved their silly snowball fight earlier on. Tom's speech about how he's been trying to get in the club for two years really broke my heart. I think a lot of people have maybe felt that way in their lifetime, at some point. I know I feel it where I work, and I used to feel it doing theatre as a kid - like I was never quite in the center of things. Tom is a good man, and Teddy liking him is so sweet. It's just... clearly I'm supposed to think that Teddy kissing Tom is a bad thing, the kind of thing that is going to backfire on her. And here I am, wishing she'd just kick Owen to the curb!

As frustrating as the Alex situation is, I do like Jo and Link's friendship getting more screen-time. Great acting from them both in that final scene, where Jo talks about how she's pretty sure Alex left her, and Link rushes over to offer comfort. They have such good energy as friends who support each other no matter what. I'm glad to finally see that come through.

Bailey essentially adopts Joey, the foster kid who recently turned eighteen. I am actually all about this. Of course it's partially something she's doing in reaction to her recent miscarriage, but also it's built out of several episodes of buildup and trust. And it's like Bailey says - she has extra room, extra food, extra money, extra love to give. (She probably should have discussed it with Ben first, but I suppose that they do have a tradition in their marriage of making big life decisions without talking it over!)

Richard's story-line offered a couple of big surprises. He bonds with a resident and offers to let her do a surgery, only for Levi to stop them just in time - turns out, the woman is not a resident, but his missing patient who he has been tracking all through the hospital. This woman, Tess, has been sick throughout her whole life, and her repeated diagnoses meant that she couldn't finish med school. She just wanted a chance at following her dream. Richard ends up telling her that she still has that chance - she has more obstacles than most people, but she can still make it. And then Richard confesses that his hands have been shaking, and that his days of surgery are over.

This is a lot to process. I really liked Tess' story, and hope she does find a way to make it as a doctor. It's absolutely insane that she was about to cut someone open, but it worked within the confines of the story. And then there's Richard. He has been through hell recently, what with his marriage falling apart, getting fired, etc... and now this. He has a great speech about how his career defined his life more so than any of his relationships, and how he's not sure who he is without it. But he also knows that he got to do what he loved for a long time, and that he's still got a lot of life left to live. Richard is such a natural teacher and nurturer; it seems clear that he still has a future working in the medical field in that capacity, even if his time in the operating room has come to an end.

Then there's the DeLuca situation. He is rightfully and naturally quite upset with Meredith for saying he might be sick like his father, and even points out that he doesn't throw alzheimer's in her face every time she forgets something. And yet, as much as I want to be on Andrew's side here, there's the fact that he went out in a blizzard and walked several miles to fetch a liver for a patient, since the roads outside are all blocked off. He walks three miles both ways without gloves, saving a little girl's life but also doing damage to his hands. Jackson is adamant that Andrew needs to follow instructions or he could lose his hands, so this is clearly serious business. I'm worried for him, and I can totally understand why Meredith and Carina would be concerned.

Cormac and Meredith continue to bond over their dead spouses - I could definitely see this going in a romance direction, and it seems like that's where it's headed, but at the same time, they are also just good for each other because of their shared life experience. Cormac confesses to being lonely - he hasn't been with anyone since his wife's death. Meredith talks about the complexities of that first kiss, first "I love you" after her husband's death. I don't know if Meredith and Andrew are done for good, but Meredith's behavior here felt kind of... wistful, like maybe she can be grateful for what they had and know that it's not meant to last. I don't know if that's where we're headed, but I'm totally pulled in to the story. (Thus proving that a well-developed love triangle is possible!)

Also - the mentions of Cristina were delightful as always. She feels a lot closer to the core of the story this season than she has in a good while. And we even got a Twisted Sister reference!

There are probably details I've missed here - like Maggie confirming Teddy's suspicions, showing once again that she can never be trusted. Or Jackson making up from a fight with Vic that probably happened over on Station 19. I liked this episode, for the most part - I liked that for once, the big "disaster" of a snow storm didn't actually cause most of the drama of the episode. It was more contained, more character driven.

And next week, we get to find out whatever sort of ending they've cobbled together for Alex. I am... dreading it, y'all.

7.5/10

#review #grey's anatomy #grey's anatomy review #greys anatomy #greys anatomy review #grey's abc #greys abc

[amysubmits]

Speaking to your punishable pill post. I would feel as though it’s contradictory too. “Why be punished for something that seems so small like checking something off your list that you did but just forgot?” That’s something I struggle to understand about DD or D/s. Not that it’s a bad thing. I’m just new to researching this. I guess it shows he cares. It’s obvious that he does. Do you ever feel weird about some aspects of the lifestyle? Happy New Year!

Happy new year :).

I sort of smirk at ‘do you ever feel weird about some aspects of the lifestyle’ because it really depends on what you mean by weird I think. I can very easily understand why outsiders might think my relationship is weird if that’s what you mean? Then yes, absolutely. I know that a lot of women would react with “I can make my own decisions” and similar reactions if their man even tried to tell them what to do...while I love it. I know the punishment aspect of my relationship is particularly freak-ish to many. There are endless things like that. But if you mean do I ever personally feel weird about it and you mean ‘weird’ in a negative way....like if ‘do you ever feel uncomfortable about some of the aspects of your lifestyle?” would be another way of phrasing your question? Then no not really. If I did ever feel uncomfortable with something in our relationship we would have a discussion and remedy whatever the issue was. I don’t have to tolerate anything that truly feels bad to me. Our goal is to create a relationship style that we are both as happy with as possible. 

I guess I have a couple of things I’d like to explain to see if they can help you to understand our perspective?

1) We would both prefer to just have a ‘take your meds on time’ rule and have that be that. Some D/s coupes love really detailed control or things that may seem like ‘micro-managing’ but that isn’t our style..except when it sort of has to be. Adding this part on about how I need to mark it in the app - and we also have a caveat that says I have to keep my pill organizer filled and have to refill my prescription on time. We don’t really prefer all those details to a rule but they all exist because I’ve failed to do all of these things multiple times in the past...and my medication rule is the most important rule we have. It’s not the type of medication I can just say ‘oops’ if I miss it..unless I catch it within a few hours of when I should have taken them, then I can take it a bit late but that is still a bit risky as my meds should be taken at the same time daily. So we’re pretty intense about trying to do absolutely everything we can to avoid missing it or being late ever. With this new add on (marking it off on the app) CD tried warning me about getting better about marking it on the app at least three times in the last six months and I would do well for a week or two and then would forget again. I take my PM pills at 10pm. He wakes up for work at 4am so he is usually in bed by 8 or so and tends to check the app (to see what I did after he went to bed) on his first break at work. So if he’s checking the app at 7 am (while i’m still sleeping) and it shows him that I didn’t mark off taking my PM pills...he has no idea if I actually took them and forgot to mark them or if I actually forgot them. If you aren’t on daily medication year-round it’s may seem silly? But even when *I* see that I haven’t marked off on the app that I took my pills - I don’t usually know for sure. Because I can always remember taking pills late at night, but because it is a daily thing I don’t often know for certain if I’m remembering last night or the night before, etc. So I often have to go check my pill organizer to verify if I did actually take them the night before or not. And that’s why the pill organizer part of the rule exists - I used to sometimes go “Wait did I take my meds?” and have no way of verifying. So now we have two ways of verifying...if I actually follow the rules, of course. 

and 2) the other thing is...I do understand why ‘I just forgot’ seems like it shouldn’t be punishable. And a lot of D/s couples do take that as a valid reason for missing a rule. Many only punish if a rule was intentionally broken. We tried doing that really early on but we found that I didn’t get better at remembering if there wasn’t punishment. I find that to be a bit shameful but..that’s just true about me. If CD were to tell me what he wanted me to do X daily and I forgot one day and he said please do X daily..I’d do X daily for a while after he reminded me but eventually, I’d slack again. So if we were both okay with me regularly falling off track and having to be reminded then that would work? But we don’t really want him to have to constantly remind me of my responsibilities...though the app sort of helps with that (it tells me every day what is required of me) but for some reason once something is a rule then my brain takes it seriously enough to get way better at not forgetting. Not perfect of course...but it’s sort of like my brain changes the instruction from “you really should do X.” to “You absolutely HAVE TO do X.” In the former example...I never consciously think ‘oh I don’t really have to so I won’t.” If it’s just a ‘should’ I really try to do it but I can just forget more easily. Where once it’s a rule it’s as if it gets put into this new category in my brain that is HIGHLY prioritized. In other words...making things official rules is basically a way of tricking my brain into making it a major priority. I still may forget and if I do and get punished then after the punishment it feels like an even greater priority in my memory. 

This is all just our way though of course. DD is often more rule/punishment heavy vs ‘regular’ D/s. But in DD or D/s either one there’s basically endless variety out there. Everyone does things a little differently. In my mind at least, not a whole lot is black or white, right or wrong. There’s a lot that just comes down to preference. Good luck in your researching :). 

#asks #domestic discipline #d/s

[soberqueerinthewild]

Chill, Kyle Valenti Respects Your Choices

So after a conversation with @ober-affen-geil I decided to re-watch every Kyle scene because he’s such a fascinating character. There are so many different things to talk about with regards to Kyle, but I want to focus on why I feel like Kyle Valenti should teach a masterclass in being a respectful, empathetic and supportive friend. 

While all of the characters show support for each other throughout the show, Kyle does so in a unique way. He offers his support unobtrusively, allowing others the autonomy to choose what they need from him. When he offers advice, he doesn’t push, and respects the other person’s ultimate decision even if it’s counter to what he thinks should happen. He is also very good at putting aside his own shit and not letting it influence his advice or the support he offers to the people he cares about. Most impressively, I don’t think any of these things are instinctual to him. He’s fought hard for this growth, and he continues to work at it. There are times when his initial reactions go against this code he has worked hard to live by, and each time he pulls himself back, to realign with his morals and be the kind of person he wants to be.

I’m going to break down Kyle’s scenes with Liz and Alex, as they are the people he is closest to throughout the show.

Disclaimer: I will be comparing and contrasting Kyle’s actions with a few scenes of other characters who I feel have struggled at times to demonstrate these same traits. This is not meant as a condemnation of these characters, but rather to show how hard it can be to be supportive in the ways that Kyle is. There are of course many examples of these characters being very supportive in other instances that I’m not going to be discussing in this meta, but it doesn’t mean I’m discounting them.

Liz & Kyle:

Liz is the first character we see Kyle interact with, and their very first scene shows us Kyle being supportive while allowing Liz autonomy to choose what she needs. She goes to him when she thinks she is going crazy because she felt herself get shot, but she is fine. He does two very important things in this scene: 1) He reassures her, by giving her a logical explanation for how she’s feeling (you’re reacting to trauma) AND 2) He does what she asks of him (agrees to run the scan). He doesn’t go into doctor mode and educate her about how she couldn’t possibly be shot. He lets her decide what she needs and does it for her. 

This might seem like an odd opinion, but I actually think their next scene is an even better example of Kyle offering unobtrusive support. Now I’m not saying he’s being 100% selfless in hooking up with her in the Wild Pony parking lot, but I do think his actions are consistent with these themes. First he gives her a choice about what she wants (dancing, food, movies), when she apparently decides she’d like to hook up in his car, he checks in (this is probably a bad idea), but then takes her at her word and respects her ability as an adult woman to make her own choices (I thought we were ignoring that in favor of the whole sex thing) and decides he’s fine being a distraction for her (use me, use me). 4.5 seconds later when she bails, he doesn’t get mad or pissed. When they see each other later he makes a joke about it to make sure she knows he isn’t resentful (the mid-make out abandonment was very sophomore year, I got all nostalgic).

In Kyle’s next scene with Liz, he shows his ability to listen, offer advice, and then respect her wishes. Liz asks him for the autopsy of Rosa so she can try to forgive her by focusing on the science of addiction. He gently offers his perspective (focus on the memories) but agrees to pull the autopsy for her anyways. Later, he also offers her some advice about her career path, also without pushing too hard when she seems set on leaving.

All of this trust and goodwill Kyle engenders leads Liz to trust him enough to reveal that Max is an alien. After this revelation, we see Kyle struggle with his instincts and have to work hard to push past his own shit. Despite disagreeing with her plan on how to deal with Max, Kyle recognizes that Liz is the injured party here  both physically, with the burn on her arm, and emotionally, as the one closest to Rosa, and therefore he respects her decisions on how to move forward. Though he has shared some information with Jesse Manes in an initial attempt to protect Liz, he keeps back specifics from him, out of respect for Liz initially, and then due to his instincts that Jesse is dangerous.

This decision doesn’t come easily to him though. He wants to protect Liz, thinks she’s in danger, and is also struggling with his own shit from high school about Max (I never liked him, always staring at you), and initially accuses  Liz of looking past the clues that point to Max because of her feelings for him (is it because he’s tall?). But despite his anger, his past shit, and disagreeing with Liz’s desire for more evidence, he respects her decision and does not take any action against Max (I mean he provokes him a little bit in 1x03 and 1x04, I’m not saying he’s a saint, though a lot of that is in the service of protecting others). And Kyle’s trustworthiness isn’t lost on Liz, Liz knows Kyle won’t go against her wishes. She says as much to Max (I know him, he won’t do anything unless…)

[Giving the injured party the autonomy to make decisions is something that Liz also does very well with Isobel in 1x12 (It doesn’t matter what Michael needs to know from him or how angry Max is. What do you need?), while we see Max really struggle with doing this (All day I’ve been telling Isobel it’s her choice what we do with you, that I’d back her play, but I want you dead.)]

The scene in Liz’s bedroom at the end of 1x04 is more evidence of Kyle’s ability to push past his own shit to support Liz. Kyle has to deal with his own feelings and defensiveness around his father. His initial reaction to Liz accusing his dad of sleeping with Rosa is understandable. He’s still grieving his dad, and this feels like a slap in the face. He accuses her of looking for anyone else to blame because she doesn’t want it to be Max, but as soon as she apologizes and admits he’s right (which is an example of Liz being a wonderful supportive friend, not wanting Kyle to have to see a hero fall), he backs down immediately, and starts to consider her point. He shares information with her and keeps working to get her answers, even as it means learning more negative things about his dad.

When Isobel is in the hospital, we again see Kyle fighting against his instincts to follow the code he’s working so hard to live by. After learning Rosa is his half-sister, his anger and stake in this alien drama increases. His instincts tell him that maybe the serum might be the solution, but it doesn’t align with his code. It’s this instinct that allows Isobel to influence him into stabbing her with the serum, because the desire was there, even though Kyle’s strong will, do no harm code, and respect for Liz would have kept him from doing it if he had free will. He then does his best to help Isobel, both physically and emotionally. He shares with us in his scene with Isobel how some of his growth happened (apparently he improved his sex skills in med school and learned empathy in his internship). We know that he wanted to become a doctor initially for the glory (he tells that to Max, tells Isobel he wanted to be Dr. McSexy), but his internship, residency, and losing his father, motivated the changes we see in him, to bring him to the supportive friend, and empathetic and caring person he is from the very start of this series.

Through to the end of the season, Kyle continues to show up for Liz. He offers his opinions, but ultimately backs Liz’s decisions around the alien problem, advising that Isobel might be more dangerous than they thought, but not stopping her from giving the antidote in 1x09, suggesting perhaps a hospital when she has a gaping stab wound in her gut, but allowing her to drink whiskey instead and stitching her up (is this the soundest decision either of them makes? Perhaps not). Kyle is such a consistent supportive person for Liz throughout the series. It’s no wonder that Kyle makes Liz feel safe.

Alex & Kyle

Kyle shows the same supportive traits with Alex. Kyle and Alex first interact in 1x05 where we quickly learn that they used to be friends, Kyle was a homophobic bully in high school, and Alex isn’t going to let him off the hook for that. However, how we view Kyle in this scene is set up by a scene in an earlier episode before Kyle and Alex even interact at all (are you calling Alex faint of heart?). That scene lets us know that Kyle’s apology to Alex is legitimate and he truly has grown, because he doesn’t only apologize to Alex when they are face to face, but shows disgust for thinly veiled homophobia when Alex wasn’t even present to see it.

Kyle’s apology scene to Alex is another example Kyle’s first instincts being less than ideal, but Kyle then coming through in a big way. Kyle first tries to gloss over their negative history (we were a good team), then tries to downplay it (I don’t know why I was like that), but when Alex won’t let him get away with it, he proves his growth by apologizing AND accepting what Alex wants from him, which is not to rehash it. @ober-affen-geil wrote a wonderful piece of meta here about this scene which you should all read, but I want to highlight that Kyle does not make Alex accept his apology to relieve his guilt, or make it all about him. He lets Alex choose what he needs, just as he did with Liz. When Kyle does offer further apology of sorts (you’re the bravest person I know) he also gives Alex space by leaving then, and again doesn’t demand any specific response from him.

In this episode, Kyle shows his ability to support unobtrusively in a physical way as well. It’s easy to miss in the show, but look at this gif of Kyle helping Alex down the ladder. He’s there if he needs him, but he doesn’t try to assume or determine what Alex will need. That is something very difficult for people to learn.

With Alex, as with Liz, Kyle’s ability to quietly offer support, leads both these somewhat guarded characters to trust him to the point where they confide in him, at which point he will offer advice, in his non-pushy way. These scenes in 1x05 lead Alex to feel comfortable enough with Kyle not to deny it when Kyle asks about Michael. Kyle is the first person that Alex allows to know about him and Michael (I mean Cam is there but she 1,000% could not care less), though he gets immediately defensive thereafter. Kyle responds to Alex’s defensiveness with the line that sums up his character well (chill, I respect your choices). He then does just that.

On top of respecting his choices, Kyle also allows space for Alex to actually talk about his feelings for Michael, something that neither Alex or Michael has really had the opportunity to do with their friends or family (or at least they have not taken the opportunity to do). Kyle could have just dropped the subject entirely when Alex is defensive about it. But instead, he gives Alex a chance to talk about it with him, knowing even if they are not friends, Alex doesn’t have other people he can talk to about all the different facets of this. (I know you don’t like me. And that’s cool, but this is all a lot. If you ever want to drop the 0800 military jargon, we can get a beer).

When Alex opens up a little bit about not wanting to believe that Michael is a threat, but feeling unsure with what they just uncovered, Kyle could have let his own shit get in the way of his advice, but he doesn’t. He has expressed concern in the past that Liz’s feelings for Max clouded her judgment and he easily could have let that influence what advice he offers Alex. He already knows that Alex is primed to hear that he shouldn’t let his feelings make him overlook something dangerous. But instead, Kyle puts his own stuff aside. He considers what Alex has shared with him (if inadvertently) about what Michael means to him, gives Alex permission to trust what he knows of Michael, and encourages him to go actually talk to Michael (which lets face it, Michael and Alex REALLY need to do more of). Alex trusts Kyle enough to heed his advice.

[It’s very easy to inadvertently let your own shit influence how you support someone else. I know I’ve done this in my own life and we see other characters do this in the show. In 1x13, we see Isobel do this with Michael when he talks to her about Alex. Perhaps this is the advice she’d give no matter what (maybe it’s time we stop looking back, and start looking forwards), but it also seems like she may be talking more to herself about Noah, than to Michael. When Liz gives advice to Maria in 1x13, (you can’t be guilty of something you can’t control), again, perhaps this is the advice she’d give anyways, but given her conversation at Rosa’s memorial at the end of the episode (I haven’t forgotten what he did to you. And I felt so guilty... for loving him), it does feel like she might be talking more about her own situation than Maria’s.]

Another important thing that Kyle does in the wake of learning about Michael and Alex, is that he doesn’t reveal to Michael that he knows. In 1x12, Michael continually antagonizes him, and Kyle could have easily thrown this knowledge in Michael’s face, but he has grown so much from high school, and seemingly recognizes that it is not his place to do. He knows what their relationship means to Alex (at least a little) and that it’s not something they talk openly about, so he is respectful of this and doesn’t bring it up. He further shows his support for Alex (and Michael) by recognizing immediately when the building is about to blow that Alex needs to be the one to go get Michael out. Even though logically it might make more sense for Alex to collect the hard drives, Kyle knows he needs to make sure Michael is safe, and he doesn’t pause to argue, just helps. This is a lovely scene between Alex and Kyle, where Alex also shows his care for Kyle (make sure you get out) in return. I suppose it shouldn’t seem like such an amazing gesture to encourage someone not to get blown up, but it is.

It’s no wonder there are so many Kylex shippers because their arc throughout the season is great, and it is lovely to see such a carefully built supportive friendship develop.

***

Kyle is a wonderful friend, but one thing Kyle forgets to do this season is seek support in the same ways that he gives it. I think this is in part because Kyle probably feels more comfortable in the role of taking care of others than seeking support himself, and because the people in the best position to check in with him are a little too distracted by other drama to appreciate how much trauma Kyle has really endured.

This is in no way saying Liz and Alex aren’t good friends to Kyle. They both show a willingness to be there for him in the wake of revelations about his father, Liz doesn’t push him to look further into his father as she doesn’t want him to have to see a hero fall. She doesn’t get angry with him for not telling her about Rosa, just offers support (you lost a sister too). Alex defends Jim to Kyle repeatedly, reminding him of his father’s positive traits in 1x05. [We don’t see much of Alex’s reactions to learning about how Jim was killed (by the alien, and by Jesse Manes) but he looks concerned. It seems that Kyle was called away by Liz before Alex and Kyle could discuss much, but I do wish we’d seen a little bit more of that scene.]

However, though they both are there for Kyle, Liz and Alex are also pulled in other directions by Max and Michael, so Kyle doesn’t choose to lean on them. It just never seems to be a right time. As a doctor, Kyle is experienced in putting on a facade of calm certainty, and not showing it when he’s overwhelmed, scared, or hurting. That can be a hard habit to break. It makes sense that he breaks down alone in 1x05 about his dad, not ready to burden Liz or his mom with that, and not yet in a good enough place with Alex to lean on him. Then there is so much going on with Isobel and the Project Shepherd/ Caulfield stuff that he barely has time to process anything. With the stress of these revelations and compassion fatigue of taking care of everyone else, it’s no wonder he reaches his breaking point in 1x13 in that gun store, and is ready to throw away his code. There is an entire other meta to be written about these few scenes, but I won’t go into it too deeply here, only to say that it’s such a testament to Kyle’s character than in the face of all this he doesn’t sacrifice his morals.  He can’t, because the growth he’s fought so hard for, it’s not just in service to his father’s memory anymore, it’s a part of him. He is a man of honor, and that’s not something that anyone, least of all Jesse Manes, can take from him.

I can’t wait to see where things go for Kyle going forwards. My wishes for Kyle for season 2 are a good therapist and lots of hugs. More realistically, I’d like to see more scenes with Alex supporting Kyle, I cannot wait to see Kyle and Rosa interact, and I really just want more Kyle all the way around.

#my meta #roswell new mexico meta #kyle valenti #i love kyle #kylex frienship #kyle & alex #kyle & liz #alex manes #liz ortecho #soberqueerinthewild meta #soberqueerinthewild

[reddogf13]

Deal with the Devil ch 4

Pennywise x Beverly

summery: Beverly, for barely a year had been suffering a terminal illness. one night after accepting her fate of oncoming death she gets the sudden urge to return to Derry. returning back after being gone for 11 years she comes face to face with IT. offering a disturbing deal of a lifetime.

"carry my eggs, and I'll fix you back to perfect health."

Will she commit to a deal with the devil?

status: complete

rated: M - fowl language and gore

previous chap: Deal with the Devil ch 3

next chap: Deal with the Devil ch 5

_____________________________________

~ch:4 Candied apples~

When the cravings started she had barely noticed them. They weren't insane like she feared they would be. Lacking a craving for human flesh or something equally disgusting like wanting squirming maggots. Instead her cravings were attracted to many meats fresh and hot out of the oven. Eating pounds of bacon, a whole ham, to a pile of steaks that managed to entirely fit in her stomach. Unable to go long without a hot meal before feeling like she was starving again. Amazed by how much she could get down in a few hours without becoming sick. Certain things however could make her sick off a single bite.

Body having a negative reaction if the meats were cold from the fridge. Finding that out after trying to have a ham sandwich using sliced deli meats. Experimenting with other foods showing negative reactions to anything not meat, deep fried, super sweet, or high in fat. Any liquids couldn't be cold either while suffering under a shift in body temperature. She was always so cold now and it wasn't just the change in season. Most comfortable in a hot room by any heat source she could be by. Standing by the oven turning into the best spot for her to pace around. Waiting for the fresh meal of pure meat to be done cooking.

Her favorite drink lately turned from coffee to hot chocolate. Pennywise grabbed it for her from the fair after they began selling it on the colder days. Since then it was all her stomach wanted to drink. Seeing her so cold under the few covers he made quite a pile of newer blankets. She could get lost among the huge pile on her bed now. Something oddly satisfying to how deep she could bury herself. Recently she had allowed Pennywise to come closer. Maybe the fact he gave off a lot of warmth helped convince her. Curled up while wrapped in his arms through the cold night bringing him to purr. Thinking it cute how he reacted so joyful when she allowed him so close.

It was the opposite reaction when she kicked him out of the house. She never thought she'd say it, but him starving himself wasn't good. After finding out back in July he hadn't eaten since impregnating her, they had a talk. Anxiety not wanting him to leave her side had been stopping him from his hunts. Claiming he was fine without needing any food at the moment, however how long could he go without? After her first night of a full rest she kicked him out of the house. Refusing to allow him back until he ate someone.

He argued to stay in the house for hours, but she wasn't having it. Standing her ground she refused to eat until he did. Scaring him to flee from the house desperately for anyone to pounce for a meal. Returning 10 minutes later holding a bloody piece of clothing to show as proof he ate. Understandably she wasn't the most excited by the proof, but satisfied enough to allow him back inside. Obligated to accept a plate of food he desperately made for her like she had starved herself for days rather than 10 minutes.

Even after that she still had to kick him out every few days to feed himself. Later she found it helped if she tagged along somewhere nearby. At first he refused her coming out so far from the nest fearing her safety out and about while he was too busy to watch her condition. A compromise had to be made however if he kept refusing to hunt. The other part being it wasn't healthy for her to stay cooped up inside. The fair grounds was the agreed upon place for his hunt while she wondered for fresh air. Meeting back later to enjoy the place like they were on a date. He always got her treats from the various carts serving across the fair. Showering her in caramel apples when he found out they were her favorite to eat.

Being cold all the time he made sure the caramel apples were freshly coated. Still steaming when they got to her hands to eat. During this time she learned his favorite snack was popcorn. Showing him later at home how to make microwave popcorn. Amazing him like she was some magical god giving him a gift. She may as well have already been some gracious god with what she was about to deliver in the future. The cravings marking the fast upcoming approach of the birth.

Cravings in normal pregnancy hit at the 3 month mark. Their development was hitting that in under a month. At this pace they would be fully formed in another month or two. Discussions of what to do on that day had to be made. Hospitals were out of the question of giving birth at. When she was magically cured of her cancer they asked her to help in science. Since refusing the offer she was sure they were waiting for her to change her mind. Ready to swarm her if she stepped a single foot on their grounds. Pennywise has definitely confirmed they were coming out as eggs. Giving birth to eggs would be another mystery for the doctors to dissect.

Deep down Beverly was fighting her regrets of accepting the deal. Fearing what would happen on the big day as she would rely entirely on Pennywise to handle things. No pain meds to make it bearable for her. Medications to help fight off diseases would also not be available. It may not happen as the eggs weren't exactly attached to her, but what if she did bleed out? Would he bother to save her? Did he care at all for her? Wanting to keep her alive simply as a baby factory. The other side of the coin was what if everything went perfectly well. She lived past the birth, the eggs living up to their hatching date.

They would be her responsibility of unleashing upon the world. Heart aching at the thought of unleashing this plague. Should she go through with it?

“There's still time to stop this.” the thought hooking into her repeatedly. Pennywise knew about these thoughts after calming down enough from his own anxiety. Working on Beverly's next to keep her on the same page. He never threatened to return her illness if she went back on her word. Neither confronted her on her borderline suicidal thoughts to prevent the eggs from developing. Preferring to bring her gifts as a form of bribery followed by sweet words that it wouldn't be so bad.

They didn't have her feel any better about the subject thinking about how her friends would react. They'd all feel so betrayed knowing she released more ITs into the world. Killing them after they were birthed would be harder to do. Unknowing how the afterwards would even be for all of them. Maybe the clown would flee someplace to hide the eggs from her. It was easy for him to claim everything would be peachy on bringing cosmic world eaters into the universe. They would act like him and that was what she didn't want.

“Bev?” hearing him gently speak her name.

Thought process disrupting itself. “wants to stop me from thinking about it.” dully looking toward him for what he wanted.

“would you like to go to the diner?” his voice soft when asking.

“ … lets go.” fetching her coat to head out with him.

Hanging out together in public had become the norm. strangely he was there, but not at the same time. People would move out of his way or in the case of involving a waiter they would ask what he wanted. The fact he was a Gothic Victorian clown going completely unnoticed by the public eye. Paying no mind to him when walking down the street. Entering the diner they would lounge in a back booth by the kitchen entrance. The warmest spot in the entire place for Beverly to relax in.

sending the waiter off with a two page long special order. A burger containing triple the meat, triple the bacon, triple the cheese, no onions, no lettuce, no tomatoes and ketchup replaced by red gravy. Pennywise asking for the exact same thing with the plan of giving it right to her. Blocking Beverly from strange looks of ordering two for herself. For the sides a small basket of boneless wings. A second basket requested by him as well. Coupled by cups of fresh hot chocolate out of a special brewer. When left alone together she slouched in the chair to try and relax.

“are you anxious?” he asked. She didn't answer, what was the point? He already knew the answer and there was nothing he could do about it. “it'll be fine.” his reassuring words falling flat.

“you don't know that.” what she said had him go quiet, Because he truly didn't have any idea how it would go. A pile of what could go wrong filling her mind. Them surviving at all being a major one, but then again if it were truly that bad wouldn't they be stopped? He talked about the other as someone all seeing over both creation and destruction. If they did not want IT creating a plague of parasites they would have stepped in by now.

Reading her thoughts he nervously shrunk in his chair. Disliking when ever she thought of the subject surrounding the other. Acting like they would appear through the clouds in the sky to vaporize them both for daring to do what was happening.

“the other would've came by now.” her teasing of him receiving a mortified look of daring to mention them out loud in anyway. “are you scared of them?” teasing further. The clown hated being told he was afraid of anything, however would he admit it under the others gaze?

“it would be smart not to tempt a being in charge of creation. In this most fragile of times involving it.” avoiding the question.

“that's a yes.” filling in for him. Snickering at his grumpy glare that cleared when she smiled for the first time that day. Both turning toward the food arriving to their table. Beverly's two burgers dripping from the addition of hot gravy. She honestly wasn't the biggest fan of adding gravy, but ketchup didn't agree with her stomach like all the other veggies. The burgers being far too dry to eat otherwise without some moist condiment to soak the bun a bit. Wrapping one up carefully in layers of napkins to keep from making a mess.

“the fair will be ending soon.” he brought up another problem they were about to face. The fair disappearing ruining their schedule of him hunting and her outings.

“we could move the outings to the town center. At least till the next fair in October for Halloween.” dipping her burger into the gravy leaking onto the plate. Her future due date making those plans useless if she was correct. This pregnancy would maybe make it through September, but not October. Stress building over the day of birth again. Attracting the clowns attention toward her chest tightening under stress.

Nuzzling his face up against her to bring her down. Resting his chin on her shoulder when she began petting his head. Smoothed down hair standing back on each passing of her hand. A smile twitching on her face when he purred under the treatment. The purring oddly soothing for the both of them when trying to relax. As if it washed away the tenseness they didn't know they had been holding. Possibly the reason she didn't mind his closer contact like the nuzzling just now. Eating her food on less of a tensed stomach helping it go down quicker.

When she finished off the large meal they went off to the fair. Drinking a to go of hot chocolate in a covered Styrofoam cup. Pennywise snagged her a hot caramel apple immediately after entering. People running the carts never stopped him from grabbing anything. Either due to lack of attention drawn onto him or because they assumed he worked there and got free employee eats. Gazing down at her reflection in the shiny layer of caramel she couldn't help but think it another bribe. It wasn't an act of kindness from him out of love.

“if I was dying during the birth, would you bother saving me?” outright asking him.

“of course I would.” confidently smiling like always.

“why?” the time he took to come up with an answer speaking for itself.

“you're my mate.”

“and that's because of why? The deal.” hollowed that she didn't truly matter.

“yes.” huffing at the dislike of how she took it. “ but that doesn't matter. I will care for, protect, and provide for you.”

“until you get the eggs or your hibernation starts.” waving off what he said.

“no!” growling her disbelief in him. “I will stay from my sleep as long as I need to. I will make sure my young are raised healthily by me and you.” puffing out his chest defiantly. “I won't let my mate, the mother of our children, suffer. You are precious to me more than anything else in the many universes.”

“because so far I am the only one in the universes that can give you eggs. If you could make them yourself it wouldn't matter. Would it?” taking a small bite from the sweet apple.

“yes.” admitting the truth. “but that's not where we are. We have coupled successfully and need a bond to stay strong as parents.”

“what if I don't want a bond?” glaring from the apple to him. Regretting her words upon seeing his hurt reaction of being rejected in this relationship. She thought it wouldn't be so important to him to keep this relationship going on the long term. In the back of her mind she was ready to flee once free from this whole ordeal. Leave nature to run its course with him and the things after hatching. Return to her normal life in another state far across the land mass if she could.

“I won't force you to stay, but if I can prove my devotion will you stay?”

taking another bite of apple. “ no promises.” How could he even prove it to her? Bring her more gifts like he's been doing so far? After being so long in Derry she may as well stay. this months house bills weren't paid back home. the bank was sure to send letters demanding bills to be paid. 2 more months of no cash would get her old place repossessed.

Finding a job working at home wouldn't be too hard for her. Starting a new life in Derry wouldn't be too hard either. There were tons of apartment openings for the taking. The availability growing by the day thanks to Pennywise. Quarter of the way through her pregnancy and she was already planning her getaway.

The clown left her side when these thoughts came to her mind. Heading off to eat next or to possibly avoid her depressing thoughts burning into his mind. In the meantime she finishing the last of her food while playing a few games. Winning a plushy tiger from the softball target game she was really good at. Fetching another hot cup of chocolate to stand the cold air moving across the fair.

“oh, how did my life end up here? Having kids with a “man” then planning to run away as soon as they're born.” swirling the hot chocolate cup in hand. “no time to sulk about it. Keep planning as much as I can until the big day.” distancing herself as far as possible despite that Pennywise wanted them to form a bond. Glimpsing silver fabric out of the corner of her eye marking his return.

Holding something out to her. “ready to go?” a large, almost platter sized, plate of freshly made funnel cake covered in whipped cream piled over strawberry slices.

“mhmm.” humming when handed a plate of hot food. Tearing off a piece for him to take on their walk back home. The large plate finished before they made it half way back. Making it back home she started on cooking steaks for lunch. Heating the whole house using the oven to make the place more comfortable. Leaving the chopping of anything to Pennywise for him to not have a panic attack.

Beverly had been eating so much today, but it felt more like snacking. On each passing day her hunger grew to wanting more meals bigger than the last. “some moms eat for two while I eat for 21.” joking in thought over the many pans of stakes cooking together. Mixing a meat juice BBQ sauce on the side for another pan Pennywise was preparing for ribs.

“do you want bacon wrapped around your pork ribs?” trying to get as much meat as he could into her meals for her.

“sure.” hearing him chopping into separating the ribs from one another. How he knew how to cook caught her interest a while ago enough to ask about it. how he knew so much about certain things like marinating meat. Apparently he had gathered his knowledge off of books that were thrown out. He worked best when it came to holiday feasts from all the magazines that washed down. He made her a whole marinated overnight turkey once that had meat falling off the bone it was so tender. Thinking about it had her wanting more of it alongside a gravy boat.

“I think I want that turkey again for tomorrow.”

“with gravy?” he smiled with her smiling back in confirmation. He knew her well on what she wanted. “want to try a honey ham for another meal?” throwing out more meal plans.

It was pretty much all they discussed for the rest of the day. Beverly either keeping the oven cooking or eating the meals they made together. Reading books on the kitchen table scooted as close to the oven as possible. Finishing her last bowl of bacon mixed mac and cheese dinner to get ready for bed.

“I'll be taking a shower.” to let him know she'll be a little late when joining him to bed.

“I won't be there, I have to do something first.” notifying her another change of plans.

“oh? You going out to eat again?” curious that he fought his anxiety enough to leave her alone.

“no, I'll be here still. You'll see what it is later.” her curiosity deepening of that, but she didn't question further. Heading up stairs to shower while he stayed downstairs to do what he wanted.

Her sleep this time wasn't as comfortable as usual. Missing the extra warmth Pennywise gave to also missing his comforting purr. Her deep sleep of state not coming on yet when she was bothered. Layered covers shifted to allow a cold breeze into her warm sanctuary.

“Beverly.” the clown lightly shook her awake.

Groggily answering from under the sheets. “what?”

“come look.”

grumbling she lifted the multiple layers to see a bright circle of light. Wide eyed in fear she turned away in assuming it was his dead lights. Calming herself at seeing the light a blue glow unlike his orange tinted lights. Shakily turning back to look to the floating bluish orb in his palm. A fluorescent light blue making up its body surrounded by a highlighted blue glow at its edges. The blue swirling in the building whites across it as certain spots grew brighter to dull back again. Swirling out into curving flames controlled in the palm of his hand.

“what is it?” staring curiously at the ball of bright blue flames.

“its a star.” the answer catching her off guard. A whole star in the palm of his hand being presented to her. “it's yours.” holding it out closer for her.

Reaching out to hold her palm close to it first for a test of temperature. It gave off a comforting warmth without threatening a scalding burn. Taking the tennis ball sized star into her palm for a closer look. Watching the flames gently swirl in her hands past her fingers to disperse.

“do you like my proposal?”

“what?”

“I've seen humans do proposals using rocks on rings. I didn't want to use a dull rock, so I made something better.”

Beverly figured out he meant marriage proposals. Usually girls got a diamond ring, but he made her a whole star contained in a single hand. This is what he stayed down to work on for her to see his devotion.

“I love it.” admitting how she felt about the gift. Hearing that he left her alone to enjoy the proposal gift under the covers. Its warmth heating up the small space for her more than she could alone. Its blue glow a comforting thing to watch swirl across the fabrics. “maybe he does care.”

after that day her bond to him grew stronger. Except it did nothing for her attachment toward the eggs. Being afraid of them was the closest description of truth to how she felt. Doing her best to ignore the growing weight of them by the time August passed into the next month. By the time September approached its end she had felt a small weight on her stomach. Her cravings of meat getting to the point of eating full on meat platters that would span across the whole kitchen table. Tempted at the thought of a whole roasted pig ready for her. Unfortunately the oven wasn't big enough to fit a whole pig in.

one night in mid September she woke to a twinge of pain in her stomach. Hissing out in trying to get up meeting failure. Her body refusing to cooperate with what she was asking of it. Panicking that her body was numb while in so much pain. What was happening to her filling her brain. Failing to also call Pennywise on her paralyzed throat.

“I am here.” answering her failed calls. Despite being paralyzed she could still feel his hands rubbing gently at her back. Was this all a dream? It seemed so surreal on how she felt things while paralyzed at the same time. “don't think about anything.” he spoke clearly as possible for her to understand. “go back to sleep. Nothing is wrong.” his words having her question what was going on even more.

The spikes of pain turning worse the longer she was awake. Shutting her eyes in tight winces on each rolling wave stabbing her stomach.

“don't focus on it. Don't focus on anything but sleep. I am right here to take care of everything. Go back to sleep.” repeating himself the longer she fought to move. Looking around giving no clues as to what was going on. “everything's fine, go to sleep.” repeating again. Her brain arguing that this massive pain was not okay. That she had to fight to the hospital or else she was going to die. Swallowing down the fear choking her chest she did as he said. Stopping her focus on the pain to sleep having the pain drift away to an enclosing blackness.

The next moment she came to was sometime in the late afternoon. Pennywise over excitedly shaking her awake. “Bev, wake up! Look, look, look! Come see! Get up and come see!” sounding how a kid would wake his parents on Christmas day. Beverly let out a groan to let him know she was up. Gesturing for him to give her a minute to gather her energy.

“shit, what happened? Did I get hit by a train?” exhausted body overly sore this morning. Barely recalling the slim moment in the night she was awake. She remembered the pain, most definitely, but nothing else. Dinner last night was normal as far as she could tell. Did she suffer some major food poisoning from all that meat?

Shifting the covers over to stiffly sit up in bed. Rubbing her blurry eyes to see what Pennywise was so excited about. Taking in her surroundings she saw him first looking down at something.

“look! Look at them!” excitedly pointing down. Following his pointing hand she saw a cocoon of bundled thread lacking a top. A breathing glow of orange light seen on its insides.

Confused mind not understanding at first. “what is-” grasping finally what it was hitting her like a ton of bricks.

She had given birth to the eggs in the night.

___________________________________________

note:

spiderlings will be revealed next chap. ;3

#It (2017) #pennywise #beverly marsh #pennywise x beverly marsh

[theshapeshifter100]

Guess What? I’m Not a Robot Ch8

Summary: Megan and Paul try to distract themselves from what happened, by trying to get the other person to talk about their side.

Warnings: references to self harm, emotional turmoil/instability

Word Count: 1,992

8AM Saturday 30th October 2038

Megan’s alarm went off at 8AM, and she was already awake.

She had managed to sleep the night before, the high emotion of everything had exhausted her. However she had woken up in the small hours and not fallen back asleep.

Her injured arm twinged with a sharp pain that could be felt deep within the arm, even if the injuries themselves were only surface level. Most of her emotions had been let out last night with Paul, so now she just felt, empty. Like there was nothing else left to feel.

It wouldn’t last, but it was oddly comforting, for now. She knew from experience that it would just make her feel worse in the long run.

She rolled out of bed, wincing as the movement jostled her arm. It wasn’t her writing arm, thankfully. It usually wasn’t, but sometimes that arm did get the... treatment.

Still cradling her left arm, Megan opened the door, revealing Paul still sitting on the couch, LED blinking intermittently. That was odd, usually he’d have started breakfast by now.

That was the other thing that kept Megan up. Once her mind cleared she had realised that Paul had been acting, odd. Not nearly as articulate as he usually was, and he directly disobeyed an order. Something androids weren’t supposed to be able to do, right?

“Morning Paul,” she said cautiously, unnerved by the whole thing.

Paul jerked, as if startled, and turned to face Megan.

“Morning! It’s early, isn’t it?”

“Eight o’clock.”

“Oh! Right, I’m sorry!” Paul was instantly up and gunning for the kitchen. “How are you feeling this morning?” he called over his shoulder.

“Bit sore, but alright,” Megan knew better than to lie at this point. He’d seen her at her worst. “What about you?” she added, coming into the kitchen area.

“I am an android, of course I’m-”

“You lost track of time, your speech pattern is different and you went into the bathroom when I told you not to. That doesn’t sound fine to me.”

“A-are you sure you’re not distracting yourself? I’ve been active for some time, I will have some, quirks.”

“Paul. Please don’t lie to me.”

Paul paused, egg half cracked as he prepared scrambled eggs. His LED flickered between yellow and alarming red, making Megan take a step back.

“I... I,” Paul was struggling to find words, despite having spent the best part of the night trying to come to terms with this. It didn’t help that it felt like there was a heavy weight in his chest cavity, even though none of his components had changed weight, not that it was possible.

“I believe, that I. I may have, deviated, from my original programming.”

“And, what does that mean?”

“I-I don’t know,” Paul’s hand inexplicably began to shake, a very human reaction. “I don’t know, and, it hurts. I have no pain receptors and it hurts. Why does it hurt?”

Megan’s eyes widened as she recognised the emotional beats that were happening here. He was panicking from emotions he didn’t understand. That seemed very much like the early days of her anxiety, except she didn’t turn to anyone for help. She wasn’t going to let that happen to someone else.

“Paul. Listen to me. You’re going to be okay,” she was about to tell him to breath, but he was an android, he didn’t need to do that. She’d need to think of something else to calm him. “Er, try tapping out a rhythm or something. A little slower than a heat beat. Like this,” she began to tap her finger to a slow beat on the kitchen table.

Paul didn’t move at first, but slowly began to do the same on the kitchen counter, matching her time perfectly. They did that for a minute or so, until Paul’s LED stopped flashing red.

“Feeling better?”

“I-I think so. I still, feel, strange.”

“Welcome to having emotions.”

“But, I don’t...” Paul trailed off, realising that she had a point. “Does your chest always feel this heavy?”

“No,” Megan sat down at the table, injured arm resting on the table and trying to work out the best way to answer. “Sometimes, sometimes that weight isn’t there, and sometimes you’ll feel like your chest is floating. Those are the good times.”

“I see,” Paul stood for a minute, before going back to the eggs.”How do I get that, floating?”

“You, you find things you like, I guess. I’m not really the best person to ask. I haven’t felt that in a long time.”

That did not help the heaviness in Paul’s chest, but he decided not to mention it, going back to scrambling eggs.

“So, you’re feeling things,” Megan started, “I keep flipping between feeling nothing and too much. What the hell are we going to do?”

“You’re going to go to your university’s mental health facilities,” Paul stated matter-of-factly, with little room for discussion.

“And you? Any ideas?”

“I, will, stay here, I suppose.”

Megan thought for a second. “Maybe, maybe we could go to CyberLife. If you’re not the first this has happened to, maybe they know something about it?”

“No.”

The denial was so resolute that Megan reeled for a second. “Wh-why not?”

“I,” Paul stared off into the distance for a moment. “I’m not sure. You’re logic is sound, and yet... Something’s telling me that’s a bad idea.”

“Okay, so we don’t go to CyberLife. That’s fine. We can figure this out,” Megan felt oddly calm about all of this, despite how much of a shake up this must be for Paul. Maybe he was right, maybe she was using him to distract from her problems.

Megan opened her mouth to announce that she would go to the college’s medical centre today, but froze at the thought. The idea of asking for help now, admitting how messed up she was to a stranger. It filled her with dread.

“Would, would you come to the medical centre with me, today?” Megan asked quietly.

Paul didn’t pause in scrambling the eggs, noting that they were nearly ready.

“I’m, not sure. I’m not sure I could pretend to be, like I was, now.”

“Well, maybe you don’t have to.”

Paul looked over at her, LED yellow. “What do you mean?”

“Put on a hat, take off that shirt and you could pass for human.”

As Megan talked, Paul seemed to unconsciously tap his LED and tug at his shirt.

“All androids have to wear a uniform. It’s illegal for me to not wear this public.”

“Yeah,” Megan swallowed nervousness. “Only if we get caught.”

Paul turned to her, eggs ready to tip onto a waiting plate. “You’re being oddly bold.”

“We’re both pretty broken at the minute. One of us has to be. And unlike you, I’ve dealt with my kind of emotions before.”

Paul didn’t have a response to that. “I doubt any of your clothes would fit me.”

“I might have one of my brothers old football jerseys lying around.”

Paul took a deep shuddering breath, an oddly human thing to do he realised, but it seemed appropriate. “Maybe, not yet. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can go out just yet. I, I need to think.”

Megan felt disappointment sink in her stomach as she ate, but she could understand why. How many times had she done that?

“Okay,” she said, swallowing a mouthful of egg. “That’s okay, you take as long as you need.”

“You’re being very calm about all this,” Paul sounded like he was trying to lash out at something all of a sudden. “It’s like if your microwave suddenly started speaking and asked not to push the buttons too hard!”

“I doubt it’s that simple.”

Paul slumped against the counter. “I know, but, I was designed to do one thing; help humans. That’s all I ever needed to do, and now... Now it feels like, I don’t have to.”

Megan looked down at her food, no idea how to respond to that. “I-I guess, you do you? I-I don’t know Paul, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make this better for you.”

“It’s okay,”

The two went silent, as it clearly wasn’t okay.

Megan thought as she ate. She really didn’t want to go to the Medical Centre alone, maybe, maybe she could ask Alex? Would they even agree to that? Or would they laugh in her face?

Gripping her fork tight in her good hand, she made a decision.

“I’ll text Alex, see if they want to come with me.”

“O-okay,” Paul nodded. “I-I would, I’m just...”

“Scared?” Megan filled in, and after pause, Paul nodded.

“Yes, I think so.”

“I’m scared most of the time,” she told him.

“That doesn’t really help.”

“I doubt you’re going to be as bad as me,” Megan half smirked before eating the last bite. She stood up, plate in hand. “Shall I wash up?” now that he was acting more human, it seemed prudent to ask.

“I’ll do it,” Paul took the plate off of her. “It might help.”

Megan couldn’t argue with that. It might give him a sense of normality.

She handed him the plate and went to grab her phone from her computer desk. Before she could convince herself to back out, she typed a short message to Alex.

‘Going to Med Centre today. Need support, can you help?’

The response came quicker than expected.

‘Sure! I’ve got time between 10-12. That work?’

‘Yeah, I’m good for then. Meet you at 10?’

“Be at the bus stop at 5 past J’

‘Okay’

Megan put her phone down and called over to Paul.

“I’ll be heading to the bus stop after nine,”

“Okay, sounds good,” Paul sounded stable and LED was back to blue, so Megan took that as a good sign.

“I’ll just go dressed and, stuff,” Megan felt awkward leaving it like that, but really, what else was there to say?

She went to the bathroom, and paused at the door. It was hanging ajar, and on the floor was the metal latch, which should have been in the door.

Holy shit

She pushed the door open and felt her stomach climb into her throat. Dried blood was crusted on the floor of the shower pod, and drips of it on the floor between there and the sink. The sink itself was okay, as Paul has washed most of it away last night.

Okay, maybe don’t have a shower this morning

Megan focused on the sink, and only the sink. Even if the smell of iron made it’s way up her nose every now and again.

It took a little longer to get dressed with one arm as painful as it was. Eventually she was ready to go she looked in on Paul, who was busying himself by re-organising the kitchen cupboards. It didn’t even need doing.

“Hey, Paul,” she said softly, catching his attention without startling him. He turned to face her, poking her head around the corner into the kitchen space. “I’m heading out. If you need me, or just want to talk. You call me, okay? I’ll have my phone on.”

“Yeah, will do,” Paul faced the kitchen cupboards again, and Megan felt her heart twist. His entire world had been turned upside down, and she leaving to worry about herself? How selfish was that?

Then again, she knew what would happen if she didn’t go. He’d insist she’d go, and with the state he was in, they might end up fighting, and she really wanted to avoid that.

She made to leave, but paused for a second to try and give some advice.

“Listening to music sometimes helps me calm down.”

Paul paused for a moment, the tin of food he was holding halfway between the cupboard and the counter.

“I hear reading helps too. Stay safe,” she added as she left.

“You too,” came the reply.

So, the two of them deal with repercussions. Megan's assertion is correct by the way, they're both using each other's problems to distract from their own. Paul's is more pressing, arguably, since this is not the first time Megan has done, that, and Paul's had his life flipped on it's head. We'll get to that.

On a writing standpoint, this is where it changes a little. It'll be more from both Megan's and Paul's POVs rather than just one of them, if that makes sense. I know there's a term for it, but I can't think of it right now. They'll also be more chapters from Paul's POV.

Other Options Flowchart

Suggest breathing slowly. Suggest distracting himself by using senses (5 things you see etc)

Agree to go the Medical Centre with Megan

Not go to Medical Centre

Suggest other options for distraction. Watching tv. Drawing. Using Megan's laptop to browse the internet

Tags @septicart-appreciation @nightmarejim

#Detroit Become Human #Detroit Become Human fanfic #Guess What? I'm Not a Robot #Guess What? I'm Not a Robot Ch8 #deviant android #TheShapeshifter100 writes

[bobcathoneybee]

i think i already knew. i just wonder when it started. a bunch of other questions came to mind after we hung up. but of course he’s not going to share details, and wasn’t sure if i wanted to know, but i had a feeling, esp after the NYE plans comment. i also noticed that he has this look on his face in one of the screen grabs. like one of those fleeting subconscious facial expressions that came to the surface for just a little bit. easier to read with screenshots. 

keep personal finances to self; anything with money to self really. that’s key. many ppl can come out of the woodwork if they know too much. 

pls be safe. you know how a lot of ppl are with... being/claiming they’re being “safe”

-----

-is that my scarf (that i got you)? YES! i wore it on sunday, but you didn’t notice. how were the cookies? the strawberry one was really good, what was the other one, wasn’t sure what it was bc the flavor was a little light.

in no particular order, as i was about to get off the phone to finish dinner. and no wonder he didn’t immediately go to the microwave when the food was initially heated through.

-i wanted to talk to you about something. it’s not something we’ve really discussed after we broke up so i’m not sure how you would feel about it. im sort of seeing someone.i didnt know if you wanted to know or if you didnt want to know or how this would affect our friendship. what i wrote in the card is true. you’re my best friend and the best person in my life. what about gio?! i duno what to do with him, he even moved down to florida!

-we’ve always worked so well together. you get me. you’re the only one i still talk to as often as i do. *thinking (until she replaces me). that’s bc you’re the grumpier version of me! LOL i guess that is true

-i think i sort of knew tho, especially after you made the comment about not having to tell me anything when i asked (about the friend group it was), like whoa okay i’ll back off...was not expecting that reaction from you. yeah i realized that i probably should tell you

-i dont talk to any of them like that, we’re also not as close and i dont keep in contact with them, one bc shes married and that would be weird. I didnt speak to her much after we broke up. didn’t you wish each other happy birthdays and holidays stuff? they let you know they’re moving or their sister got married, the major life events? yeah

-after this past year, my intent was to eventually get back together. what i want to know if that’s even a possibility (or if that door is completed closed). i think there could be a possibility, but i dont want that to prevent you from seeing other ppl and figuring out what you want. 

-look, i’m probably going to be alone at 65 okay? don’t you think you’re just making it a self-fulfilling prophecy? yes, but still. 

-you dont even like people! i know! you dont know how exhilarating it is to just shut off your phone for the weekend and not talk to anyone. yeah, but now you’re going to make time for her. *pause, that’s true

-i didn’t want to feel guilty about not telling you and not being upfront about it. i respect you too much not to give you a heads up. i want us to meet ppl and figure out what we want or dont want. i dont know if this is going to go anywhere; it’s been slow-moving but i wanted to let you know. 

-i wasn’t sure if i wanted to tell you bc i didn’t want to see you cry. 

-you know you would say things like i’ll stop smoking WHEN i have kids (not if, when). i know i had to work through that myself too (about not having kids or getting married). i know but with all the weddings and kids the last few years... i think you needed to figure out what you wanted.

-it’s actually kinda hard dating (her) sometimes, it’s not the same. bc you can’t have chicken feet around her? LOL yes

-you just understand me so well. but i also dont want you to think i was using you to help me with measurement plans (for pitches) LOL. (this kid helps me with so much too.)

-you introduced me to new things all the time! you didn’t even like going to these places. i always grumble bc we have to leave the house but i still go when you suggest new places to check out (bc theyre usually always good!)

-i thought you were dating already. huh how do you mean? from the boat noodles comment. when i asked you about how you heard about it, you said some guy. LOL oh it’s bc i didnt know what it was and wanted to know if you knew/had it before. so did you go get it? no! it’s in astoria, why would i go to astoria?! was he asian? yes. it was one date. they’re so good! i shouldve had my mom make you some (when we were still dating) *side eye lollll sheeesh i tacked on that date with another appt i had in the city and it was on the way home! OH 

-in case you’re on a date and such, i wouldn’t want to be calling you all the time. lollll my dates are probably on weekends, when you dont talk to me... oh that’s true

-how did you guys meet? app? NO i would never put my pictures up there. okay i’m assuming neighbor friend during one of your brunch gatherings. (assuming she’s brunch girl as nickname or something brunch related). don’t you have friends (who can introduce you to ppl)? NO everyone has a SO and we don’t go out bc covid, we’re on apps! it’s just A LOT of talking. i’m literally trying to pick the best of the bunch at this point. ah i was afraid you’d say that (picking among the bunch)

-ALSO THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE KNIVES! (superstition) OMG YES IT DOES. i purchased a knife set for jacob back then too bc his knives sucked and look what happened! LOL do you replace his actual name with jacob now? YES bc it’s funnier!

-you just need to lower your standards back down bc i’m the anomaly in your dataset! i’m wayyy up there at 1000, but the norm/avg is prob way down there so you’ll need to adjust. are you padding yourself up?! YES! but i’m awesome! it always happens that way. sheesh. 

-ugh now i feel tied to my job even more. after the last big purchase? yeah. are you having buyer’s remorse? YES!

-my head hurts so much. it’s not as bad as yesterday when i felt like i had to go to the hospital. i was thinking about calling an ambulance. omg did you do the head squeeze?! that didn’t work at all! it felt like a large knife repeatedly stabbing my head. you know that area i press on behind your neck at the base of your head/skull, that area between your neck tendons and the one going up the sides, press on both points and push upward. i think you need to lift your head a bit from your neck *POP POP do you hear that?! IS THAT A KNOT?! ugh the massage place around the corner hasn’t opened. i think they’re done. it’s the only one i trust bc my mom went there so  i know for sure they dont offer happy endings. LOL i dont think they do that where you are

-you should go see cindy. your health should be the one thing you prioritize this year. does she make house calls? yes she does. sometimes goes to brooklyn and used to go to UWS for friends. i wasn’t sure if you wanted me to stop seeing her (bc she’s your friend and our PT). i would never make you do that. shes the only one who seems to help you. besides, her office is closing, the guy is being sued for not paying rent... oh what?! yeah but try to see her twice a week, i’m not sure max once a week (once a month) is really doing anything for you.

-do you think i can just get surgery to fix this? LOL no! she said you weren’t a good candidate! see her more often. but she says what i’m doing now is more preventative (so it doesn’t get worse). it might be fixed. my mom’s PT/tui na people made that ball (from using mobile phones) behind her neck go away. try to see her twice a week! your health is very important.

-should i take another advil or aleve? what did you take first? advil, then take another advil. i mean i took it at 10am this morning. oh! okay then you can switch to aleve. hmm 2016 or 2018? can i still take it? probably, it’s less effective tho. okay i’ll take 2018. 

-ive been taking heart burn meds. what are you lying down immediately after you eat again? ...noooo....? uh huh. you are, aren’t you”? either on the chaise or the bed? ..no..... if you’re gonna do that at least wait 30 mins and lay on your left side bc you know the of the stomach right? there’s that cup to the left for the acid to stay in so it doesn’t potentially open up the end of the esophagus iike when you lay on your right? ... maybe you should look this up on google! LOL other ppl don’t eat as much as i do! it won’t work! just try! ok fine.  

-it’s been awhile (since we broke up) and so i think it’s time. im here if there’s anything you’d want to share (about anyone you’re dating), we can always talk about it. *thinking sheesh why would i want to tell you that (it’ll make you even better for her). 

-i meant it when i said i’ll always be here for you

-i miss you a lot. i love you. *even tho i didnt say it back during FT, was still in some level of shock, i love you too. 

#bobcat v

[myectjourney]

ECT Evaluation & current my medication list (2/28/2018)

This post will go over the questions asked during my evaluation and parts of the discussion.

Duration of appointment: 1 hour 30 minutes (hour and a half)

*** TW suicide/self harm mention/questions regarding suicide/self harm. TW for detailed medical procdures and sezuires***

Current Medication List:

Lithium (For depression. 2nd time around with no results. After this evaluation, I quit.)

Clonazepam (For anxiety and panic attacks)

Propranolol  (For anxiety)

Zolpidem (For insomnia)

Evaluation (first appointment):

Doctor introduces herself.

We go over my intake form (which I filled out 2 weeks before my appointment. It included an extensive questionnaire.)

I was upfront about my diagnoses and that I was interested in ECT not TMS because ECT has a history of being more effective despite of there being more side effects. She did listen to this and didn’t bring up TMS at all during the evaluation.

She asked about my prior history with therapy. How long have I been in therapy and what for?

“Tell me about your life. How do you spend your days?”

I talked about how my illnesses have been getting progressively worse and how different drugs I’ve taken have effected this because of bad reactions.

I explained that I have had a lot of breakdowns. I classify them as “psychotic breakdowns” not panic attacks because I felt they were different from when I have panic attacks. She asked me to clarify my word choices, just so she could get a better understanding of what I meant by that.

She asked “How often are these kinds of breakdowns are happening?”, “How long do they last?”, “Explain what your episodes are like.”, “What causes these episodes?”.

Talked about personality disorders. We talked about how I am suicidal and how long I’ve been this way.

Talked about how many times I’ve tried to commit suicide. “How did you try to commit suicide?”

Talked about past history with self harm. “When you cut yourself, were you intending to harm yourself for some relief or to bleed out and die?”, “What stopped you from dying?” I explained that people came to my aid or there were times where I stopped myself because of my own fear of death. Even though I longed for it, I also fear it. “How many times have you stopped yourself versus someone stopping you?”. Some point between asking about suicide and self harm, I was asked “Have you ever been hospitalized?”.

“How often do you have panic attacks?”, “What does a panic attack look like?”

“Have you ever heard voices that weren’t there or seen things that aren’t there?”

“How often do you see your therapist?”, “How long are your therapy sessions?” “In your current situation you are having disregulation episodes which you are calling ‘psychotic breaks’ that are happening sometimes daily, or at least one a week in which you are pulling your hair, screaming, being disassociate and during these episodes are you trying to kill yourself or saying you want to kill yourself?”

To my partner who was in the room with me (my request): “How often does she talk about suicide?”

“How many of your suicidal attempts or gestures are caused by social stressers or fear of rejection?”

“Do you get into conflicts often in your relationships with people?”

“Do you have a bit of a temper?”, “Do you lash out at people you love?”, “How often do you find yourself making suicidal statements to others?”

She asked about a situation that my therapist wrote in her notes regarding a past experience that set me off.

“Have you done additional therapy for your agoraphobia?” I explained that my therapist and I have tried to get me into DBT but my insurance won’t cover it so it was no dice. We talked about how my social anxiety has gotten worse and the agoraphobia has been more of a recent development with the progression of my social anxiety and traumatic experiences. I also talked about how I think I have Selective Mutism which is brought on primarily through PTSD attacks (when I am triggered) or under immense amounts of stress.

“How is your thinking and memory?”

“Have you held a job at any point?”

Talked about my family and abuse I suffered through them and my lack of contact with them.

Asked about my medical diagnosis. I informed her I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia.

“Have you ever had a head injury, concussion, or seizure of any kind?” Nope.

“Any retinal detachments or metal implants in your face?” Nope.

“Any brain aneurysm, vascular clips in your head or neck, metal in your eyes, or pacemaker?” Nope.

“Any heart problems?” Not that I know of.

Confirmed where I was born and raised and who raised me (all questions answered on the intake form).

“Do you have any siblings?”

“How did you do in school?”, “What led to me not continuing my education?”

“Any religion?”, “Any military service?”, “Any legal problems?”

“How would you describe your mood today?”

We went over the meds I am currently on and my dosages. I told her that I won’t be on Lithium by the time we do the procedure. She said the lithium is less of a problem, I just need to be sure I don’t take it 2 days before we start the procedure. She was mostly concerned about the fact that almost all the meds I’m currently on are considered anti-seizure meds and a lot of them are highly addictive, especially the clonazepam and zolpidem. This is important because basically what ECT does is they induce seizures in the brain. This helps basically rewire your brain.

She informed me that LUCKILY they can reverse the effects of those 2 drugs with an antidote (pretty nifty) so they can get around that but she expressed concern that I might be “a little doped up”. I told her I was on a very low dose.

Talked about family history with mental illness. “Any one in your family commit suicide?” No. At least not that I’m aware of.

This is when we finally talked about diagnosis and treatment.

She said “Your diagnosis is relevant here because certain diagnosies respond better to ECT as compared to others. Based on your history, it seems like you have an expanding list of diagnosies and that can happen in psychiatry because they are checklist based and can be presented differently at different times. I think the over all picture is best captured by a personality disorder based on what you are telling me and that doesn’t mean you cant have ECT by any means but it does mean that there is a little more risk for you in a couple of ways. So people with a history with disassociation and a history of trauma, which very much goes with a personality disorder, have a harder time being put under repeatedly and hopelessness of ECT. It can be kind of re-traumatizing.”

She goes on to explain that there are cognitive side effects for people who have personality disorders (specifically similar to my symptoms), which can include something she called “Soap Opera” Amnesia where a patient will complete forget everything for a few days. It only has happened one in her experience but it was very scary for the person going through it and that patient did end up going to the hospital at some point. This wasn’t caused by the ECT though. Seizures do not cause this. This was basically psychosomatic; something this person developed as a result of the panic of being put under and having to go through that over and over again, hence why she disclosed this to me as someone with a personality disorder specifically issues with disassociation.  

She also explain that statistically, the effectiveness of ECT is a little lower for people with personality disorders versus those with just depression. It’s around 55% likely to be effective for people with personality disorders and around 87% likely to be effective for people who just have depression.

She said about a 3rd of people with just major depressive disorder that get ECT feel almost completely cured by it but with people with personality disorders, they might feel less suicidal and may be able to function better in day to day life but its way less likely to feel “cured” to that intensity.

We also talked about how she thinks I fit the description for BPD very much and that it looks different for different people. My favorite thing she said is that it doesn’t always look like “Girl Interrupted”. Luckily I already knew that and agreed with her on this matter. She talked about the stigma around it. Honestly, she was very understanding and knowledgeable (I mean, of course) but it was really nice to talk to someone who wasn’t bias about personality disorders.

Then we talked about the upsides and down sides of ECT in the most specific way we could.

Downsides being cognitive side effects, even if they are just doing the right side of my brain with pulses being as small as you can get and the dose being as low as possible, you can have cognitive slowing, feeling a little more spacey, attention is not “up to snuff”, and also short term memory problems. The most recent memories put in your brain are usually the ones that are effected first.

This can include the past couple week or months before the procedure.

During the course of ECT, 7-15 sometime 18 treatments, when youre having it 3-4 times a week, you might have trouble forming new memories.  It’s not that you won’t form any, just a little fuzzy.

All of things add up to a DRIVING RESTRICTION. They will not let you drive during the course of treatment. She said it doesn’t matter how you GET to the appointment but afterwards they will not allow you to take a cab/taxi, uber, lyft or by bus and you cannot drive yourself. You absolutely NEED SOMEONE TRUSTED/CLOSE TO YOU TO DRIVE YOU HOME.

ALSO, if you have a history of any heart problems, you are at risk of sudden death because when they induce the seizures, your blood pressure and heart rates goes up. For young healthy people, there is almost no risk of this happening.

There are the normal/common risk of anesthesia (Like waking up). They usually give you Brevital (which puts you to sleep) and Succinylcholine (to relax your muscles before the procedure). The muscle relaxant will stop your breathing but she said it’s nothing to worry about since they will be pumping air into your lungs manually via bag mask and will be closely monitoring you which luckily means no invasive breathing tube.Then they deliver the stimulus, which induces the seizure and then you slowly wake up after that. If the timing is wrong or the dosing is wrong, there is a SMALL but serious risk that you can wake up but still feel paralyzed. They monitor your heart rate and they try to make sure you are completely out beforehand but it’s still a risk.

The worst symptoms after the procedure is headaches and nausea, which they will usually give you medication for and usually is the worst after the first treatment.

You will have an IV in your hand, before you go in, the nurse will make sure you have not eaten or drank anything in 8 hours.

They will talk to you for a few minutes to make sure you are okay and know whats going on. During this time they will put the IV in and inform you if there is any changes they need to make with anesthesia, then they administer the anesthesia. They will then induce the seizure (they usually start with a right unilateral which means they just do the right side of your brain and can change it to a bilateral procedure which is both sides of the brain later in treatment if needed) and the way they tell if you have seizured is by:

1.) putting EEG leads on your head so they can see your brain waves and

2.) They use a blood pressure cuff as a tourniquet around your ankle to stop the muscle relaxant from going into your foot so they can see that foot have a seizure.

Afterwards, they roll you out to the recovery room where you come down from the anesthesia which takes about 20 minutes.

The medical work-up and requirements before you schedule the procedure is a signed document from your PCP (Primary Care Physician) which they fax over, bloodwork, pregnancy test, and an EKG test (they will need a physical copy of the EKG tracings).

-END OF APPOINTMENT-

I hope this is useful info for someone out there!

If anyone has any questions, feel free to ask.

#ect #ect evaluation #post 2 #electro-convulsive therapy #electroshock therapy #electro convulsive therapy #electroconvulsive therapy #depression #anxiety #bpd #personal experience #ptsd #personality disorder #long post #procedure #tw suicide #tw self harm #tw mental health #ect reference #treatment for mental illness

[room3voluntary]

In meds we trust

I was in the toilet when I heard a polite knock at my door. 'Are you in Maddie? A man’s voice floated through the door. I was only in there looking at my face. Well, the chemical caused acne breakout that used to be my face. Urgh. I opened the door. 'I just have some paperwork to fill in if that's ok?' I realised he might be a junior doctor and he was as polite and his knock. I grabbed them from his hand and it was the usual. 2 pieces of paper, each with situation statements which I had to confirm with a circle. Never, rarely, some days, several days, always. Question 3 really got me. 'Do you talk to yourself while you're alone? What type of question is that ?'I asked aloud. He asked why and I said how do you know. 'How do you know if you talk to yourself while you're alone? That's like asking if a tree falls in the wood when no one is around does anyone hear?' He started laughing. 'I see your point' he said 'I know that I talk to myself' me too. I circled 'several days'. I think everyone does. He thanked me and collected the papers. He informed me I have formulation meeting tomorrow. A formulation meeting is where everyone gets together and discusses what to do with you. It sounds so clinical. How do you  solve a problem like Maddie? I've been a puzzle quite a few times. 

 I was sat at my desk when a seriously lady walked in, carrying a briefcase and a warm smile she perched on the end of my bed. 'My name is Dr Khatri'.

 First things first we discussed the events which led me here but after a while she clocked my note pad. She asked me what I was writing so I explained. It was partly this, partly my book and partly serious subjects. 'I wish I was as creative as you' she said. We then continued trawling through my history and uttered the words I knew were coming but still filled me with dread. 'I think you will benefit from an antipsychotic'

 In 2008, after the first serious admission i had, I left hospital at went back to college. I had my second psychotic breakdown 6 months into my first year at art college. It was now September and my first day back. i was so nervous but everyone was so nice, within a few hours i got my confidence back, i was ready to begin. I stared at the canvas in front of me and nothing happened. Creativity used to flow out of my hands. My mother was told I was gifted. I never saw a blank canvas I saw one hundred visual stories to be told. I picked up the charcoal to trigger some sort of idea but nothing happened. Then it hit me, I was normal. I was functioning but i'd sacrificed my creativity for it. Id sacrificed part of myself. 

 When you're young you're told to believe in you're dreams. You can achieve anything you want but as you get older you realise this isn't true and it takes hard work and sacrifices. My goal was to be normal and for that i realised I'd sacrificed part of my soul. Through the following year, I noticed not only had I sacrificed my soul, also my identity and it was down to a little blue pill called aripiprazole. aripiprazole was an antipsychotic and two years later when I had a trial coming off it, I came back. My soul re-entered my body, whatever what repressing me left and I got my sparkle again. I didn't want to be locked away again.

 'It's an antipsychotic called olanzapine' she said covering an awkward silence in which I realised I hadn't replied. 'I understand you have tried aripiprazole and quetiapine in the past yes?' I had but they were both the same, they stole who I was but quetiapine had made me physically ill as well. bad allergic reaction.

'What are the side effects?' I asked when I finally got out of my thoughts. 'There can be weight gain as a side effect' i knew this. Not only that I knew olanzapine was the worst one for it. I felt sick. I am Maddie and I am skinny. That's part of me. Throughout my life I've had patches where I've been a bit funny about my weight and for this reason I felt like I'd been given a death sentence. Logic once more dictates that this was ridiculous, but me and logic aren't always friends. I'm crazy and ill but at least I'm skinny and exciting. I'm not pretty enough to be fat. Medication weight is entirely different to normal weight. It's all on the stomach. You see it, a big round pouch. It's all on the stomach and flat in the eyes. I got one before, not big but it was there. People can be beautiful at any weight, size and shape but it made me so worried. My choice was be mad or be unhappy with how I look. I don't know what's worse. I know I was being dramatic, I know I was being shallow and vain but maybe It's what I deserved. 'Okay' I said. I wasn't really thinking. I'd already conceded to defeat to continue to participate in the decision. She asked if I had any more questions and smiled as she left. I smiled too.

 I am not anti-medication. I am pro-medication. I'm already on some. There are so many people, mainly who suffer with depression I've found, who point blank refuse any meds. I understand, they worry for the same reason as me but no matter how good your diet is, no matter how many miles your run, sometimes you're serotonin will not play the game. There is no denying these factors help but sometimes you need a crutch, a little helping hand to get you through the day but prejudice and fear seem stronger than logic. 'You don't need pills, why would you want to put all those chemicals in your body?' Preaches the person who nearly blacks out on tequila every weekend before inhaling a gram of cocaine through to Sunday morning. 'You just need a distraction' says the person who’s never even had a cold in their life, never mind any other health problems.

 It's a chemical imbalance: would you tell someone with diabetes it's a state of mind? And the same as diabetes, yes a diet can help, but you're not going to stop that imbalance by stopping their insulin. Ignorance causes suffering.

 The reason for my reservations was my complicated past with this type of drug. After a short time of contemplating in silence I started to cry. I felt heartbroken. Everything I had tried, the struggle and determination I had fought to stay off them, I was back to where I was a few years ago. I had failed. My heart sank into my chest not only through disappointment but the knowledge she was probably right.  I was being selfish too, my behaviour was also effecting the people around me, i had to be fixed. It was the most logical answer. I also knew that medication effects individuals in different ways but even that didn't help me. What could I do? I needed to formulate a plan of my own. Ferociously scribbled into my notebook cause and effect, feelings and frenzied suggestions but i knew deep down i was wrong.

 I went to find a nurse. I wasn't good at this whole 'talking to someone' business, I can do it in my own, but I needed to say my thoughts out loud.

 The ward has been busy. It was living up to a stereotype I tried to ignore. Sharon, the walker, was no longer wandering the hallways but yelping incoherently to herself in her room. Earlier a new girl was brought in by a flock of people who promptly tried to escape and hit her dad. I watched as she screamed and wet her self. I watched her violently thrashing as she was rugby tackled like a SWAT team by the staff and sedated. As we all shuffled off to our rooms as instructed by staff, I saw her legs were all bruised and bleeding. I saw her eyes too, she wasn't there. 

 I finally found a nurse to speak to. No, talk at. Through mascara stained rambling I explained. She said nothing. Finally she said 'don't worry about the weight gain, it doesn't happen to everyone'. What a pile of shit. Yes it does, it's the one that does it that most, im not an idiot. 'Tea is ready if you want some?' She said changing the subject and leaving. I didn't want some. I wasn't hungry. Probably because I knew soon that's all i'd be. Hungry and lost. 

 As the evening drifted on, it nearly time. I made my way to the treatment room like a prisoner on the way to the executioners block. I had to get rid of this negativity. i had to try. I slouched on the chair outside the treatment room, waiting for my name to be shouted. A few of the older and worse patients were watching TV. I looked at their facing staring blankly at the set. How do they do it? All of them are on antipsychotics and they just get on with it. That's all some of them do though, just stare at the TV in their pyjamas. I can't work out if they know what's going on or braver than me, stronger than me? Probably both, more so the latter.

 I heard my name and got my meds. I saw a new little pink one, poking out of the crowd of pills in the paper cup. 'This is a new one for me. I'm excited for the sleep but not the weight gain!' I joked. She just smiled and shrugged her shoulders. I took a deep breath and knock it back. Then nothing. I don't know what I expected. The whole world to change? To die? Everything was exactly the same. An hour passed and still nothing happened. I was just sat watching TV and very much still myself. 

 I got up to go to the kitchen and that's when I noticed the change. Fuzzy. Everything was fuzzy. From the floor tiles to door frames everything was like a slow slide show, doubled and swayed. I felt like static, my brain full of white noise. I stumbled into the kitchen but it was too bright so I abandoned my cup and made my way to my room. I felt as though i was walking through water. A 5 second journey turned into a 5 mile march of white corridor. I have spent more time in a drug fuelled trip wandering round hospital corridors than I have house parties this year. 

 I finally made it into bed and turned out the lights. Everything was better now. The white noise was quieter. Calm. The world has righted itself. The last thing I remember before falling asleep was my legs feeling hot against the bed sheet.

 *****

 I've just woke up. I can't get up

  It was two hours later and I was still struggling to move. Every twitch of my leg and flex of my arm made me feel sick. I needed the toilet, I had to move. My mouth was sandpaper dry, I needed some water, I had to move. I eventually pulled myself up and felt better I thought- until I stood up. It felt like my heart was going to explode through my chest. All my extremities tingled. I edged my way to the toilet using the wall as a frame and finally reached the bowl. That was the best piss I ever had. I looked over the mirror. I looked awful. Every time I closed my eyes I could see the veins pulsing across my eyelids and in my reflection that is what I saw. Blood shot eyes, the negative of what I saw in the blink, like a fingerprint. I got up and shuffled to the door.

 The hallway was white. Too white. My heart felt like it was beating into my legs, each step a slow and heavy thump. The pressure in my chest was radiating down from my head which was locked in an invisible vice. The heaviness of my head led the way as I went to find help. 'I don't feel very well' I said when I finally reached the dining room hatch. One of the nurses took my arm 'oh dear' she said 'Coincidence has it, a doctor is here, I'll get him to take a look at you, don't worry'. I lent in her shoulder and she grabbed me gently by the arm and steadily walked me to the treatment room. 

 wilted on the bed, I blinked and there stood a figure leaning over me, face shrouded by the strip light behind, turning his features into a silhouette which was crowned by a halo. My eyes adjusted to the lights and distortion melted away. The silhouette was now replaced with a dark haired doctor. He looked early 30s. Quite cute actually. First attractive person I'd seen in ages and i was in this state. The nurse from before leaned over and pulled my top up. I then also realised I had my tits out. Great. Faces of Meth, faces of Maddie, there was very little distinction. 'Hold up your arms, put then together onto your chest and lift them up like chicken wings' he said. What. He must have seen my expression of disbelief and confusion as he showed me how. 'I'm not going to press on your elbows and you have to try and keep them up, okay?' He was very authoritative yet polite. I liked it. From there proceeded a number of resistance tests, pulling and pressing on various limbs. After a while he pulled out his stethoscope and listened to my chest before checking my blood pressure. Everything was a little bit high. 'You are experiencing some very strong side effects but you are okay but we'll mention this to the consultant. Try and get some rest' Rest. That is all anyway says but it doesn't seem to be working. The nurse helped me back up and I hauled myself back to bed.

 'Maddie can i come in?' The staff nurse shouted the door. 'You have your formulation meeting at 1 o'clock is that okay?' It was 12:30. Oh god, I had so much to say, so much to explain, so much persuading to do and I couldn't in this state. I was struggling slur through a sentence. mind fuzzy. I started to panic, the kick of adrenaline woke me up and I pulled on some clothes and lumbered to meeting room. It was time to formulate my formulation, see where my path was headed next, and I was not prepared.

 When I walked in I was greeted by four ladies all sat in perfect symmetry, two on each side. There was my mum, a staff nurse, the psychiatrist and a lady I didn't know. I looked at my mother who couldn't hide her concern at the state I'd walked in. 'I don't want to take olanzapine again, please don't make me' I pleaded before anyone could even begin. 'It is your body and I can see you are not well' I looked at Dr Khatri 'They have had an unusually adverse effect on you. In the pasts you have tried aripriprazole and quetiapine and there were not successful either. I don't think this medication is for you. I see no benefit to continuing'  she smiled at me. 'Thank you' I replied. Thank you didn't even cut it, thank you for the bottom of my heart. A wave of relief washed over me. I said previously they are not good for me but no one had really listened. I have the symptoms, they fix the symptoms but they don't suit me. Antipsychotics are anti-Maddie. 'We have decided to the observe and see how you go' she continued 'we will wait for the increase in lamotrogine to take effect and if you manage to have two nights full rest, you can go on weekend leave and if that is successful we can discuss discharge' even better! This was the plan. This is want I wanted. I struggled to hold back tears as I thanked her. The lady was finally introduced to me. She was my work liaison officer. The thing is, and the thing you may not believe is, I am full time employed. Up until a while ago I was just like you. A Starbucks drinking, Tesco raiding, selfie taking, endless consumer. I was the one who accidentally walked into you in a heaving pool of people in primark. I am the person who sat opposite you on the train. A 'mutual friend',  a 'someone you might know'.

 Mental illness believes in equality. It doesn't judge or have prejudice. It will simply strike any of us at any moment. A monster lurking in the dark.

 For a while I’d felt like my life had been stagnant and now it was the most static and stagnant it’s ever been. I needed to get out.

 For the rest of the meeting I stayed slumped in my chair, the drugs still flowing through my veins. I watched them speak, their mouths moved but blurred sounds came out from far away. Dr Khatri hand grabbed mine and shook it, our faces smiling simultaneously. The plan was complete. The formulation; I just had to sleep. Not that hard right?

 *****

 I’m trying to sleep but It’s raining. It’s raining so hard. I overheard something about a storm earlier, about the sky turning yellow? I don’t know. It’s not just me that’s gone crazy recently, it’s the whole world. I couldn’t sleep though it like the slow motion crush of a car bonnet crumpling into a wall in a crash test simulation, dummy falling and bending inside.

 Suddenly silence. I flipped open the curtain next to me, only blackness peered back in. No rain.

 From behind me I heard the pitter patter of quick footsteps down the corridor and quickly flung myself into bed and pretended to be asleep. A few seconds later I heard the shutter fold up, the flash of a light and felt the eyes of a nurse observe me for a moment before moving on. I heard the shutter slap down I rolled over. Try again.

 I lay in the darkness, it buzzing around me like bees trying to shut down. Even if I don’t sleep even if they just think I have slept I can leave. I wasn’t going to move but then I heard the tapping. It was coming from outside of my window. Tap, tap, tap. I got up and went to the bathroom and slid under the sink, curling into a ball. Tap, tap, tap. I closed my eyes and breathed.

 I wont tell them about this

#olanzapine #mental health #mental illness #bipolor #medication #meds #antipsychotics #psychiatry #psychiatric hospital #psychiatric mental health nursing #mental heath awareness #diary #mania #psychosis

[youmightaswell]

Jerks and Caicos: Putting the ‘Eye’ in Island

If you may recall, I recently reunited with a quirky ex-boyfriend who I dated back in ‘95 when I was 25 and he was 40. We dated on and off for nearly 10 years and then later, when I got married, he abruptly stopped speaking with me even though we had been strictly platonic friends for years.

Recently, after not speaking for 15 years we reconnected because his mom died and he reached out to alert me. He was apparently feeling nostalgic. 

We decided we’d go on vacation together as friends to Club Med in Turks and Caicos because we had gone back in ‘98 when we were hot and heavy and had such a great time. Let’s just say the trip was eventful and full of hiccups, or eye rolls, if you will.

Aside from the Seinfeldian hilarity that ensued when I battled against my version of the “white whale” that I recently recounted in this essay “The Old Man and the Sea Cabana...” something far earthshattering -- or shall I say eyeshattering?-- happened.

***

On my only recent visit to this ex’s house I was panicked because of the immense clutter and collection of meaningless things he has begun keeping --  like his huge jar of dirty rubber bands (because his dad owned them), huge other jar of keys that open nothing, and shelves of bandages. Foam and wood chips were in every crevice, because he fashions himself an artist and might want to make a collage. Not an inch of wall space exists and lest you think it is covered with pricey or aesthetically pleasing art, instead random tickets are affixed with scotch tape and other meaningless papers best left in a trash pile are prominently displayed. Stacks upon stacks of things are everywhere. There is a child’s small desk blocking a window, his couch is on risers to fit more stuff beneath, as is his bed, and he has stuff in his linen closet – empty bottles – I left back in 2003 when I was there last.

But, hey, he seems to have some fear of loss and unresolved grief, so live and let live. 

Quirky, for sure, but he has great qualities as well: he is very creative, successful and has an extremely dry wit. 

Right before I left his apartment, though, I noticed he had a display of near-empty cologne and perfume bottles at his entrance and I asked about them. None were visually pretty or anything one should want to display. I wondered about their significance. As I was questioning him he grabbed a spray bottle and said it was face mist and went to spray me in the face. I balked, realizing it wasn’t the face spray he thought it was, but rather a hair product. Thankfully I avoided the mist, he looked closer and realized his mistake, apologized and I left to catch a cab without further incident.

But remember this because it’s what we in the writing biz call “foreshadowing.”

***

On the morning of our trip I met my ex at the airport with near-perfect timing. We walked through security together even though he whined about having TSA Global Entry and being annoyed at using the “regular” line. We whizzed through and sat at the gate. I noticed he had a lot of bags. Like bags in bags. Seriously I counted seven bags inside his bag. Now I knew his check-in suitcase had a miniature guitar (more on that in a later essay), fins (again, more on that in a later essay) even though the hotel provides full snorkel equipment and other unnecessary items. Because I know my ex also has seven rugs piled on top of each other in his home and keeps ordering more on Amazon, I assumed this was just another hoarding tendency. 

I asked him what he had in one of his multiple fanny packs and he quickly pulled out a bottle and said, “Face spray” and before I could stop him – I screamed a slow mo “Stoppppppp!!!!!” – I felt burning pain in both of my eyes. I grabbed the offensive bottle and even with tears pouring out of my eyes I noticed it did NOT say, “Soothing face mist” like he thought and instead emblazoned on the label was, “Drybar Mai Tai Spritzer Sea Salt Spray”. Yup, the idiot had just sprayed me straight in the eyes with ‘beach hair, don’t care’ salt spray. It was then my sight went on vacation without me. Because we were about ready to board I could only pull out the contacts quickly and give them a good rinse before getting on the plane. I did not have my glasses so I was forced to sit for the three and a half hour flight with sticky contacts and only a less-than-three oz bottle of saline.

After we landed, got our luggage and boarded the shuttle to our hotel, we had to further wait for our luggage to be deposited outside our room, which wasn’t ready. We were encouraged to grab a bite to eat before the dining area closed for the afternoon.

Finally, after hours of irritated eyes, I was able to take out my contacts and put on my glasses.

Not the greatest start to a tropical trip. I hated going to dinner in my thick glasses and knew that trying to sit in the sun sans sunglasses and going into the water without contacts was a no-go.

The next morning I awoke around 5am with my eyes sealed shut, crusty, and in pain. Without waking my oblivious ex, I threw on some clothes, crusty eyes, messy hair and still sleepy, and went to the reception desk in the hopes there was a resort doctor on call. Unlucky for me it was a Saturday and the nurse would not be in until 9am. A quick Google search showed me there was an Urgent Care with an eye clinic open on Saturdays from 9am-1pm so I arranged to get transportation there. The hotel nurse came an hour early and checked me at 8am. She did an extended eye rinse and then the hotel transported me along with one of their sick young staff members to their urgent care facility.

It was a bit scary driving into the innards of Turks and Caicos barely being able to see, with an uncommunicative cab driver and a gorgeous young 22-year old year resort worker who didn’t speak much English.  Would we be trafficked? Surely I’m too old to be trafficked, right? 

We were cruising further and further from the busy tourist areas and all I could wonder was if I was about begin what would be an international version of Dateline, wearing nothing but a bikini, flip flops and a t-shirt that now ironically said “PARADISE” on the front.

It was a fairly long ride and I had no idea how to call a cab to return. More so, I was nervous I’d spend hours of my trip waiting in a crowded emergency room and have the first full day of my trip ruined. 

Much to my chagrin I saw as I neared the facility, it was packed with sick people. I entered, the only tourist among them, and my ears were assaulted with the screams of many sick babies. 

Thankfully the hotel had apparently notified them about me, and I was seen instantly, while the native onlookers stared at me with disdain. I felt awful that I was being greeted like a celeb, waved right through, while others, far sicker than I were kept waiting. But not so bad that I turned down my place at the front of the line. 

The ophthalmologist was amazingly nice and efficient and the place was equipped with all the latest in optical technology. He did a comprehensive eye exam and saw both eyes were infected and the left had a corneal abrasion. He confiscated the hair spritz and told me, “Your partner is an idiot.”

Within 20 minutes I was leaving with antibiotics, steroids and sterile eye drops. Efficient, effective and cheap! The whole thing in an ER setting only came to $150 - even without any insurance.

Even the pharmacy bags were adorbs:

We told the front desk of the medical facility to call us a cab to return to our hotel but island time is indeed a thing. The receptionist relayed that t would “be there in 10 minutes” three times before I flagged down a random cab and asked if he could take me. Sketchy as fuck he cited a price nearly double what we paid so I declined. What to do? How safe would trying to hitchhike in Turks be? 

Finally the medical facility called again and said they had forgotten to send our ride but the owner was coming himself from the airport to drive us. Another 30 minutes went by and we were finally headed back. On the way, the driver took a turn down a scary dirt road and stopped in front of a shack. Always ready to stay sexy and not get murdered I wished the doctor had not confiscated the offending eye spray because at least I could use it as a weapon if need be. Thankfully the cabbie was only picking up his daughter and we were on our way again shortly.

***

I was at the beach by 10:30am, bikini clad and annoyed I was in glasses. I had not told my ex my plans and just thought it better to handle it myself. I didn’t want any drama, am an adult who had traveled alone extensively and didn’t want to get into any argument or discussion with him. I knew he hadn’t done it on purpose but that it was representative of his behavior years ago when we were dating – which ultimately lead to our romantic demise. Even though so much older, I found him then (and now) lacking in any sort of impulse control and he clearly lacked respect for others around him, particularly younger women.

I know “Elliott Spritzer” felt bad and so I chose to not ruin my trip any further so simply went to the beach to resume my vacation. I told him briefly what happened, that I handled it and he would be expected to pay for any medical bills and related transport. Beyond that I accepted his apology and wanted to move on. He offered to pay for my full $3K portion of the trip, but while I would have liked that, I didn’t allow him to because I knew it would allow him to think what he did was ok. He did pay for my massage and the additional lobster fees nightly so we could have reserved seating for the rest of our stay.

I felt good about my reaction to this blip. In the distant past I would have been super dramatic, the whole trip would have been horrible and I would have cried and felt miserable. I was very proud of myself staying calm, being mature and handling a messy situation quickly and efficiently without any undue drama. I realize I can’t control my ex’s idiotic actions, but I could control my responses to them and anyone else’s. 

***

Sun and corneal abrasions don’t mix, just like oil, water and human eyes, so I had to sit most of the trip in the shade and not swim which was a bummer. Still, I ended up having a pretty great trip, thankful for the sun, sea and sand -- and having it for the most part stay out of my inner eye. 

*** 

Years ago I often wondered how my life would have been different if I had ended up marrying my ex. I often mentally lamented the end of our long relationship. However, while this trip almost blinded me, it also provide clarity. It made me see very clearly that even though I was doubtful, I actually made the right life choices. 

***

Ever the jokester -- and by jokester I mean asshole --  my ex send me this upon our return: https://www.amazon.com/DRYBAR-Mai-Spritzer-Salt-Spray/dp/B00LX54J1M

***

Hopefully next vacation I can keep the “sight” in sightseeing. :-/

[ficdirectory]

The Fosters: Our Thoughts on Episode 4x19 “Who Knows”

It’s time for another twin recap of The Fosters, featuring me (not in italics) on general plot and adoption related things and @tarajean621​ (in italics) on Jesus and brain injury representation.

Who Is This?  Oh no one, Callie.  Just Russell, Diamond’s pimp…

What Was This Letter Doing in Your Pocket?  Nothing!  You know, Jesus just was telling Brandon what a good brother he was, so Brandon reciprocated and Jesus thought better of frisking him…  (Also, it’s so horrifying that now, Brandon, Grandma, Mariana and Moms all know about Emma’s abortion, but Jesus still does not…)

Are You Gonna Tell Jesus?/I Think...That’s Our Choice?/I Think So:  I hate that Jesus is being left out of this discussion, but what else is new?

That’s My Department.  What Should I Look For?/I Would Say a Hardwood Tree, Right?/Yeah, Like an Oak or a Walnut: So, I love that this project is a thing.  But I hate that it is still Jesus’s fake senior project.  I am glad that we can still hear that aphasia impacts Jesus’s speech.  (I also noticed his prism glasses in his hand - not being worn despite one of the moms saying that he would have to wear them for a bit longer.  And while some disabled people do not need or use their glasses/braces/crutches/canes/wheelchairs 24/7, it seems that in this episode, the glasses and cane are nothing but a visual reminder for the audience.  They exist as little more than set dressing.)

Also, we get to see how Gabe interacts with Jesus post-injury for the first time.  And while Jesus stumbling over words seems to make Gabe momentarily uncomfortable, he is able to keep the conversation going and not make it a huge deal.

Isabella, This Is Gabe/You’ve Never Met Her?  How heartbreaking, seeing Jesus and Mariana’s reaction to Ana and Gabe with Isabella.  And hearing Ana talk about dropping her off at daycare when the twins know how they were treated by her as babies?  It’s all in their eyes as they look at each other.  Mariana can’t even hang around after that intro.

Have You Gotten Any Help From a Doctor?/They Put You on Pills...Screw You Up More/Yeah, I See That:  Totally a valid choice, Gabe.  Not ideal for Jesus to hear, though.

Makeunder:  Callie is not having these people tell her what to do with her hair, her body, her face.

If They Find Out How You Got That Toothbrush/I Found It In His Garbage Bin on the Street:  That’s kind of like saying you broke into his house, but different, Callie...

Does It Ever Make You Feel Bad?  Seeing Ana With Isabella?  How Good of a Mom She is to Her?/No, I Don’t Think About It:  I’m so glad that Mariana feels like she can talk to Jesus about these feelings, and contrary to what Jesus says here, his face tells a whole different story.  It has since they saw Gabe, Ana and Isabella together...seems like, maybe he can’t think about it, or it will hurt too much.

Do You Remember Ana Leaving Us Alone in Our Crib When We Were Babies?  For a Whole Day or More?/Yeah...I Had a Dream About It.  We Were in Our Crib and You Were Crying.  I Was Trying to Take Care of You:  How devastating.  As much as this is so horrible for both of them I am so glad they have each other to talk to about it with.  That they believe each other.  They know what happened because they both remember it.  

She Never Should Have Had Us/Is That What You Would Have Done?  If You Were Gabe - Would You Tell Ana to Get An Abortion?/No.  I Would’ve Been a Dad: It struck me last night how Noah’s Jesus really is a completely different character than the first Jesus.  Because in season one, he was all about getting that morning after pill for Lexi.  Maybe that’s because now the writers can portray Jesus the way they always intended to.  I’m not really sure.  But I do really find this statement by Jesus in this scene to fit with the way he is now.  Very tender, quiet, and driven to do what’s right.  Especially after having that conversation with Gabe in season 3 about how Gabe did tell Ana to abort the twins when she was pregnant, and how terribly that sat with Jesus.

So, We Let Her Off The Hook?/They Are Not Us and It Does Us No Good to Get Mad at Them:  This is such a twin thing.  Mariana is so upset at Ana abandoning them (as she should be.  They deserved to be taken care of.)  And Jesus is on the other end of the spectrum where it seems he’s trying to put distance between himself and that time because he knows it can’t be changed.

Twins do tend to try to balance each other out, I’ve found.

Nobody Ever Gave Me Nothin’ for It.  Now I Got the Power:  This reminds me of Jack in season 3, telling Jude and Callie that he had the power after those boys broke his arm.  :(  It seems like Diamond almost HAS to rationalize this as being okay, because it likely feels like her only option.  

It Really Wasn’t His Choice/True.  But We’re Adopted, So Maybe You Could Have Considered That:  I adored this conversation between Emma and Mariana.  I love the honesty.  How Mariana didn’t hesitate to tell Emma how Jesus felt about it but also acknowledged that it wasn’t his choice.  It also felt really accurate that she would talk about how she and Jesus are adopted and how that’s also a valid option.

You Sure You Should Be Lifting Stuff?/Yeah, I’m Fine.  It’s Good for Me to Move Around:  The thing about brain injuries and disability in general is that you’re always contending with your limitations.  And those limitations can shift and change day to day, depending on any number of things.  With the visual disturbance plotline pretty much gone, it follows that Jesus probably does feel markedly better than he has.    

What Are We Doing?/We’re Moving My Stuff In/Why?/Should I Call Your Mom?  And this is why it is not advised to go off medication without a doctor’s knowledge and supervision.  Yes, Gabe, please do call Lena.  (Also, notice Jesus’s speech being impacted by not feeling well.) 

I Can’t Have Sex When I Take My Meds/Well Maybe That’s Okay?  For Now?  Until You Get Off Them?  To recap: Felbamate is a last-resort anti-convulsant with dangerous side effects.  Impotence is not one of said side effects.  Also?  I cannot find any research that supports the arbitrary 5-years-on-anti-convulsants thing.   

My House Could Use Some Pretty Flowers:  Callie, it’s Russell!  Take the girls and run away!

I Folded Your Laundry for You...You’re Welcome?  Why are you doing chores while Jude is sitting on his butt playing video games, Mariana?

They’re Trying to Turn Anchor Beach Into a Private School!...You Can Still Plead the Fifth:  Hahaha!  I love how Jude came in and side-eyed Mariana for instantly telling Mama about Anchor Beach.  (Good call, by the way, Mari, Mama needs to know.)

I Think Diamond Took Something Out of the Trash.  There Was This Guy Hanging Around and I Think He Left Something for Her:  Ooh, I still love seeing Daphne in charge but Callie snooping around makes me nervous - her investigating always leads to so much terribleness…

Call Me on It and Delete the History...Then Put It Back...and Wipe Your Fingerprints Off Of It:  I know it’s not supposed to be funny but I love Daphne like buffing the phone with her shirt.  

After Everything Ana Put You and Jesus Through!/At Least She Didn’t Get Rid Of Us!  God, twist the knife a little more, Brandon!  You can’t bring up how badly Mariana and Jesus were neglected as babies as justification for Emma’s abortion.  How do you think that makes Mariana feel?  Oh right, you’re not thinking of HER feelings…

Jesus, Can I Talk to You for a Sec?  When Did You Stop Taking Your Anti-Seizure Meds?  I’m frustrated that this conversation is off-page.  

If They Want Me to Say That I Think Kyle Killed Martha Johnson, I Need to See Him Again:  Sounds totally legit that Moms will let Callie and Brandon drive eight and a half hours to a high security prison.  So your 17 year old daughter can visit an inmate there.  Sounds totally safe.

We Are Going to Allow You to Drive With Callie to Folsom:  We, a police officer and an assistant principal are allowing our 18 year old son and 17 year old daughter to DRIVE TO FOLSOM PRISON TOGETHER.  What is happening right now?

Mouth Open.  Tongue Up/How Long Are You Gonna Make Me Do This?/Until I Can Trust That You’ll Take Them...So Probably Forever:  Okay, so apparently the off-page conversation did not go so well.  While I understand the importance of taking the medication until a doctor’s appointment can be scheduled, forcing your kid to take it “forever” despite the (fake) side effects?  Not okay.  Understandable if there are no other options, but it appears that Lena is not interested in looking into those options.  

And I can’t help but entertain the thought that perhaps in Lena’s mind, the impotence might be a blessing in disguise - a way of controlling Jesus?  Which is such a gross thought, but the truth is that many disabled girls and women undergo forced sterilization as a matter of convenience even today.  Is keeping Jesus on Felbamate despite his objections due to a convenient “side effect” so different? 

Your Brain’s Not Right/MY Brain’s Not Right?!  You’re So Depressed, You Got Evicted!  Maybe YOU Should Take YOUR Meds!  Oh my.  I know this seems most unfair, Jesus.  And it is.  

I Wanna Be Here For You, Jesus/No You Don’t.  You Almost Left Town Without Telling Us.  The Only Reason You’re Here Right Now Is So You Have a Place to Live:  Ouch, but Jesus speaks the truth.

I Had a Job Lined Up in Tahoe/Maybe You Should Go!  I’m Sure It’s Still Available!/We’ll Talk About This Later: I have to say, as far as adults go, Gabe is actually doing quite well avoiding the whole ableism thing so far.  Just the fact that he does not dismiss Jesus’s anger as a “TBI outburst,” and lets him know that they will talk later is huge in light of how the family has been treating him in past episodes.  

I Don’t Wanna Live Like This/Don’t Say That.  You’re Gonna Get Better:  There definitely is such an adjustment to life with a brain injury - and depression is often a part of that.  And while I appreciate that Brandon is trying to make Jesus feel better, telling him that he will “get better” is harmful in the long run.  While Jesus will definitely make improvements, he will not return to who he was pre-injury.  The promise of this is false hope.  (I mean, this is TV, so a “miraculous recovery” might still happen.  But in real life?  Please avoid the phrase.  “You’re going to improve, but I respect your limitations.” holds the same sentiment.  And it’s okay to be different post-injury.  Life happens.  We evolve.

You Can Talk to Your Doctor.  They Can Put You on Something Else.  Or Give You Something/What?  Like Viagra?  Like I’m an Old Man?  Why is Brandon, of all people, having this conversation with Jesus?  This is a conversation Lena should have had with him when she found out he was not taking his medication.

What About Emma?  Everybody Knows She’s Not With Me For My Mind.  Our Thing, It’s Physical/Jesus, There’s Nothing Wrong With Your Mind.  You Have a TBI - But You’re Funny, Smart and a Really Good Guy.  She Has to Love You for All That:  Brandon, you and I have a love-hate relationship.  And lets be real, it’s mostly hate.  But this?  This was the perfect thing to say.  “There is nothing wrong with your mind.  You have a TBI.”  Please get this engraved on a plaque and place it in the kitchen for all to see.

Are You Sure I’m Gonna Get Better?/I’m Sure:  :/

I Wonder Where This Money Is Coming From?/Is That...That’s Craig Stratos.  Nick’s Dad.  Why Would He Wanna Bankroll This?  Do You Think This Is Personal?  Well, that was unexpected…

Oh My God, Kyle.  Did You Kill Her/What If I Did?  This scene.  Adam Irigoyen’s complete transformation as Kyle is just amazing and chilling.

You Used Me/YOU Used ME/For What?/For a Cause.  To Feel Good About Yourself:  I love this so much.  I love that Kyle is knowledgeable.  I love that he knew, from the start, that he was also being used.  I hate that feeling.  While I obviously don’t condone murder or theft, I do like the reveal that Kyle was aware the entire time of the bigger picture.  That he isn’t just the sweet ‘special needs’ boy that Callie perceived him to be.  He is fully aware and he always has been.  This scene was easily my favorite part of the episode.  What amazing acting.  What a stunning reveal.

I Never Did That/Jesus Remembers, Too/I Don’t See How You Could Remember Something Like That When You Were Babies/We Remember Because We Were Scared and Hungry and Our Diapers Were Full.  We Were Covered In Our Own--:  And runner up for my favorite scene is this one with Mariana and Ana in therapy.  I was just thinking how much I hoped we would see some kind of through-line with this.  I’ve  been wondering how Mari’s coping with her PTSD.

The tweets in Mariana’s secret Twitter account were revealing in that sense because we get to see that she’s still scared.  She’s still dealing with things, and obviously she’s been trying to process this memory of her and Jesus as babies for several weeks.  

I like that this kind of thing was included because it is fairly common from what I’ve read that kids who’ve known severe abuse or neglect do have memories from the time they’re babies of their experiences of those things.  And they’re doubly difficult to process because as babies, Jesus and Mariana were preverbal.  They didn’t have the vocabulary to articulate how they were feeling.  Which is why it’s so good that Mariana’s able to start working it through now, and figuring out how it did make her feel.

Is It Possible, Ana, That You Don’t Remember If You Were Using Drugs?/I Didn’t Come Here to Be Judged or Ambushed by Memories That She Dreamt Up.  I’m Not Doing This:  I also really loved the realism in Ana’s reaction.  It feels so viscerally true that she, as a mom, and especially with a baby now, to be super defensive and dismissive of the idea that she did neglect Mariana and Jesus so thoroughly.  And it is complicated by the fact that she was using at the time so she very well might have zero memories of things she did and/or times that she left them alone.  

I feel so much for Mariana, though, and I do hope that her therapist helps her process what happened in the office, so that she can start to realize Ana’s reaction is about Ana and it doesn’t make Mariana and Jesus’s memories of what happened any less valid.

Before Your Daughter Gets on the Stand With That Story.  Check That Out:  Yeah, Stef, Callie’s story of getting Doug Harvey’s toothbrush out of the trash isn’t really gonna stand up in court when Gray has video evidence of her in his house taking it from there.

We Can Still Do Stuff, You Know, For You?/Hell Yeah:  I’m glad Jesus and Emma are still working on their relationship and trying to figure things out.  (Check out the cane standing next to his bed.)

Did You Hear About Anchor Beach?  There’s a Rumor They’re Turning It Into a Private School/ Where Did You Hear That?/Some Anonymous Twitter Account.  I have a hard time believing that Emma would not check out the anonymous Twitter before sharing it with Jesus.  The very first thing Jesus did was check out the handle and the tweets.  And now, he knows.  Finally.  Oh crap.

For more: Fosters Recaps

#the fosters #4x19 #who knows #jesus and mariana #jesus adams foster #tbi #brain injury #aphasia #ableism