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cowgurrrl · 1 year

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Sweet Creature

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Author’s note: holy shit thank you for your ideas this is my favorite. also i put it in the tags of darlin’ i’d wait for you BUT there is a beautiful easter egg in the baby’s first and middle name and the first person to tell me what it is gets a kiss on the mouth

Summary: “Helping one another is part of the religion of our sisterhood.” - Jo March, Little Women aka Ellie rescues you and Joel [1.3k]

Warnings: newborn DRAMA, post-partum anxiety if you squint, Joel being a softie for his daughters

"C'mon, Charlie girl, you've gotta help us out." You mumble as you bounce your crying baby around the room. It's been an hour of her crying nonstop, and you've tried everything. Nursing, changing her diaper, changing her clothes, burping, changing the room's temperature, and playing music. You even went as far as to check her for any injuries that you may have missed. You're not sure what kind of trouble your one-week-old could've gotten into to warrant an injury, but you're exhausted, and it seemed to make sense.

Joel woke up with her first, as he has done every night since you gave birth, so you had the chance to get some rest. Recovery has been rough for you, and he's already doing so much for you. He and Ellie barely let you get out of bed most days because they want to ensure you take the time to heal. Even though the thought is nice, you wake up and listen when Joel gets up with her every time. It's not that you don't trust him. It's that you're already the world's lightest sleeper, and Joel is deaf in one ear and is rarely aware of just how loud he is. You also don't mind secretly watching as he lays her on his bare chest in the low light of your room, singing to her or explaining what he's doing for her to engage her little brain. He's caught you staring at least twice since she's come home.

But tonight was different. She woke up crying and was pretty much inconsolable until Joel brought her over to you. She nursed for a minute or two before wrenching away from you and screaming. Since then, you and Joel have been taking turns trying to get her to go back to sleep. It's hard having a newborn with two capable parents. You have no idea how you had a baby as a single mom.

"D'you wanna try to feed her again?" Joel asks as he stands next to you, disheveled and overwhelmed but trying his best to comfort the both of you.

"I don't know," you shake your head, your throat starting to feel like sandpaper. You were always the more emotional person in your relationship, but postpartum emotions are nothing compared to your regular ones. "I don't know what's wrong." You cry. Joel touches your back and makes a sympathetic noise as tears fall down your face.

"Let me take her for a little bit so you can sit down, okay?" He suggests as he carefully takes Charlie from you. She chuffs at the transition before going right back to screaming her head off. You sit on the edge of the bed and watch as he holds her like a football and hums what sounds like Hank Williams to her. You'd be surprised if she could even hear him over her own crying, and you take a deep breath, racking your brain for what could be wrong.

"What are you doing to her?" Ellie asks as she walks into the room, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She's wearing one of Joel's shirts and hand-me-down shorts from Maria, and her hair is as messy as Joel's. If you weren't still crying, you think you'd probably laugh.

"She's just a little fussy. You can go back to bed." Joel says, but she shakes her head and walks over to where he's standing with Charlie.

"What's going on, bug? Huh?" She asks, crouching to look at Charlie's tired, sad eyes. She may have your eye shape, but she got those heartbreaking brown eyes from Joel. When she cries like this, they look like the saddest puppy dog eyes in the world. "D'you want me to try?" Ellie asks, and Joel shoots you a look.

You've been very intentional about not putting too much pressure on Ellie to help with the baby. She's sixteen, and she shouldn't have to be burdened with that if she doesn't have to be. You told her she could help as much or as little as she wanted, but she took it upon herself to help more often than not. You just didn't want her to wake up for midnight cry sessions or feel like she had to be put in a parenting position. She's still a kid.

"It's worth a shot," Joel says, and you shrug, way too tired to argue with him. He carefully passes Charlie to Ellie, who cradles her close and pushes her hair out of her face. Joel stays nearby in case she decides to hand the baby off, but he doesn't intrude on their moment.

"Hey, it's alright. You let it all out," Ellie says as she sways. Her fingers muss Charlie's hair, and she's quieting down. Not a lot, but enough to see it as crying instead of blood-curdling screaming. "I've got you, sweet girl." Ellie's hand moves to her chest, gently scratching and rubbing little circles into Charlie's onesie, and like magic, she stops crying. She turns her little head toward Ellie and yawns big and long like we kept her up. You sigh in relief and tip your head up to the ceiling as silence fills the room. Your ears are still ringing, and your body hurts, but it's quiet.

It would be easy to claim that Charlie calmed down because Ellie's wearing one of Joel's worn shirts or that she just finally hit a wall and fell asleep, but you like to think she was just missing her sister. Joel looks between Ellie and Charlie in disbelief, mumbling "shit" under his breath. "What can I say? She loves me." She shrugs, and you quietly laugh as she walks over to the rocking chair in the corner and curls up with Charlie. She snags the yellow blanket one of the older women in town knitted for you off the back of the chair and drapes it around them. You would think they've known each other for centuries.

Joel is still standing in the middle of the room, his curls a mess on top of his head, as his sleep-deprived brain tries to piece together what happened. He scratches at his stubbly jaw and shakes his head as he thinks. "You don't have to stay up with her. I can put her back in the crib." Joel offers, and you watch her hold on Charlie get a little tighter.

"It's gonna take me a long time to fall asleep. You guys should get some rest. I've got her," Ellie says, a smile pulling at her lips. "Besides, I like hanging out with her." You would cry again if you had the energy, but you don't. Instead, you crawl back into bed and get comfortable. Joel looks to you for confirmation, always looking for your approval as the mother of his child before making any decisions, but you're already half-asleep again.

"If she's volunteering, I'm not gonna stop her," you mumble into your pillow. "Just don't fall asleep."

"Sir, yes, sir," Ellie says. They may have stayed up talking. You're not sure, but when you wake up, Ellie is between you and Joel in bed, and Charlie is in her crib. She's tucked under the arm Joel is using to hold your waist as he sleeps, and her hand is on his chest. He's snoring lightly as he holds you both, perfectly content to cuddle with his girls in bed. You smile and kiss each of their heads before falling asleep again.

You vaguely remember fearing how the new baby would affect Joel and Ellie's relationship and worrying if Ellie and the baby would get along. You don't know exactly why Charlie was crying last night or why she calmed down so fast once Ellie had her, and you don't need to.

Sometimes a girl just needs her sister.

Sometimes a father just needs to baby his sixteen-year-old a little longer.

🍓

taglist: @evyiione @nyotamalfoy @abbyhaslongshorts

#look for the light #the last of us #joel and ellie #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #the last of us x reader #joel tlou #ellie williams #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #ellie williams fluff #dad!joel miller #he’s so girldad your honor

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staarlight-snow · 8 months

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Reflections in the Murky Waters

[Short sequel to Murky Waters - Island of the Slaughtered]

TW: panic attacks (??), nightmares, ig horror, mentioned death

"Well, hoping is the only thing we can do right now.. Why not make the most of it? Right Noah?"

Cody jumped up from where he lay in cold sweat, tightly gripping at his shirt. His breathing was heavy and he felt tears run down his cheeks. He softly groaned – covering his ears with both his hands, his surroundings were quiet but his mind was loud. He winced at every memory, every thought and every imagery that stayed in his mind

"Another nightmare again?" A soft voice spoke, shuffling in her side of the cabin. "S-sorry.. Did I wake you?" Cody asked, moving his hands away from where they were. "No.." Gwen whispered, moving closer to the other. "I'm having trouble sleeping.. It's like every time I close my eyes I can hear him call my name." She vented, staring at the rotting wooden floor beneath them.

"Yeah.. I get the feeling. I have this.. recurring dream." He confessed, picking at the seams of his jeans. "Yeah? Want to talk about it?" Gwen offered, tilting her head as she looked at the boy. Cody took a deep breath and closed his eyes, images flashing in his mind. "It starts out with me, I walk out of the cabin holding some stuff. And I look out in the forest and he's there.. He's alive." He dragged out that last part with pain in his voice.

"I make my way towards him but.." He stopped for a moment. He hated this part. "E-every damn time I could even get close to him.. He gets pulled into the forest.. A-and it's quick! I ran after him, as fast as I could. Every night I go to bed, I try to save him.. even if it's only in my dream.." He breathed out, his voice getting weaker by the second. He's never confided these dreams with anyone before. He never thought talking about them could be just as painful as having them.

"But no matter how I try and what I do.. I couldn't save him." Tears were streaming down his face and his voice was broken. It was a pain to hear it. "Heh.. There was this one time, I managed to get to him in time. I had his hand in mine. And I was pulling him out of the water but something was also pulling him down. He told me 'Let go because it'll hurt more if you keep dwelling on it' I-I don't know if that was my brain telling me to get over it or.. if it was actually Noah.." Cody finished, he opened his eyes and buried his face in his hands.

Gwen moved her hand to the others back to console him. "It takes time to heal and right now, everyone in this cabin needs it but I think our main focus right now is to survive.. There's no point in healing if you know you'll get hurt again the next day." She sighed in defeat. It was like every slither of hope they had was slowly drifting away and all they had left was their lives. "Surviving? What's the point! There's nothing to live for anymore." Cody cried. "Don't say that!" Gwen scolded, furrowing her eyebrows.

"We promised we'd get out together.. And that's what I had going for me.. It's not like someone's waiting for me at home anyway." He muttered in between sobs, moving his legs closer to his chest. Gwen looked at the other and sighed. "Can you atleast promise me we'll both get out of here? You and me.." She asked. Cody slumped over and rested his chin on top of his knees.

"It's what they would've wanted.." He answered. "You're right.. They're our friends, they only want what's best for us." Gwen smiled, to which Cody returned. They hadn't smiled in a while – they never found a reason to anyway.

Maybe this time the world will be fair.

i woke up and immediately thought, "man cody's brain chemistry must've been fucked lmao.. lemme write abt that" HUAHAUAHUA I CRAVE ANGST RAGHH 👺👺 *feral gremlin noises*

anyway this isnt me shipping gwen and cody, unless u wanna view it that way ig 🤨 i just think they'll hv a kind of bond and comfort in one another ngl 😔

#total drama #tdi #total drama island #island of the slaughtered #td noah #total drama au #td cody #td gwen #td noco #noco #tdi fanfic #total drama fanfiction #fanfic #angst #haha trauma go brrtt #tw horror #tw death

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onyourhyuck · 1 year

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MRS NA? | NA JAEMIN. | PART ONE.

— Prologue: “Why do i have so many children?” + “Well you strapped me to the bed, you know how that went.”

— Summary: Wherein Go Yeeun wakes up from a coma and meets Na Jaemin claiming to be her husband and have five children together.

— Genre: jaemin series. Romance. Found family. Mystery. Smut. Crack. Fluffiness.

— Notes: THIS IS A JAEMIN SERIES ON MY BLOG. reblog and follow me for more daily updates.

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Go Yeeun's eyes softly wake up from what felt like a deep dream. It felt surreal to wake up surrounding seeing everything go white. The walls, the bed, the blanket were all matching colours. Next to the bed was a young man half asleep on the chair with a denim jacket over the body covering like a blanket.

The young woman sat up holding her head suddenly when a striking breeze hit the head. She groans out. "Ah fuck..."

The man removes from the chair walking to the side. "You're awake, nurse! nurse!"

She looks up seeing how he held her and she stares him down with her eyes clench at the unfamiliar feeling. "Who are you?" He looks down at Yeeun sitting on the bed now.

"I'm Jaemin. I'm your husband.”

A pain hits her heart at the centre of the chest and he saw her grab the hospital gown with a balling fist. Yeeun can't remember anything not a single memory running in that moment.

"I have a husband?" Yeeun saw Jaemin give her a nod. "Yes honey we are."

The nurse comes through running in with a white check board. Looking down she calls out her name. "Na Yeeun? Can you remember anything." The nurse gently asked, with black hair. Yeeun looks around murmuring.

"What happened... why am i here?"

The doctor appears behind the nurse coming forward he opens the flashlight holding out Yeeun's face and flashes it in the eyes.

"You had a car accident and your husband brought you to the hospital. You've been unconscious for a day and a half. I'm surprised you regained your consciousness that quick." He hums putting it down. Yeeun pulls her face away looking at the hospital gown she wore and the bed she's in.

"I was in a car accident..." she murmurs softly. "Then... when can i get my memories back doctor?"

He explains. "It's only a matter of time. Memories will come back soon you won't even realise it."

Jaemin looks at the doctor. "When can she be discharged?"

"We will check more of your stats but if they are doing good we don't have a reason to keep you here. Just make sure to give us a visit every two weeks for a check up."

"Will do Doctor. Thank you." Jaemin bows the head as the doctor and nurse leave. He would turn around to Yeeun.

"How do you feel?"

Yeeun looks down. She was confused if anything. "I don't know. What's your name?"

He smiles. "Jaemin. Na Jaemin."

'Na Jaemin. So he's my husband.' Yeeun couldn’t believe it nonetheless the handsome man standing there was her husband.

Hospital doctors were shocked to know how well Yeeun’s stats were being monitored so well considering the accident only just happened, the woman’s body was adjusting quite well. It was a good sign. It felt like a miracle to witness such good status enough to let a patient leave the next day just like that. As they were discharged Jaemin lead Yeeun inside the car in a truck shape. At first she tried to remember this car but she couldn’t find a single memory in that brain of hers.

Jaemin drove Yeeun away from the hospital after discharging the woman. It was amazing how the doctors were able to let her go after seeing such good stats. Yeeun truly has a fast healing body.

When driving in silence Yeeun trails thinking. "Can you tell me about yourself?"

The young man at the wheel driving chuckles. "Well what do you want to know?

She spoke out against the wind coming through the open window. "Everything."

Somehow a little panic struck Jaemin but he squirms in the seat sighing. He thought wondering what he can say to her. "I am your husband. We met in high school, I love peaches but i despise strawberries because i am allergic to them. My birthday is 13th August."

"Well... I don't know what to say anymore then that." Jaemin would explain shrugging.

Yeeun turns to look at him. "Whens my birthday?"

Jaemin nearly forgot but remembered after. "You're the 27th of April honey."

Yeeun murmur. "It's June this month. My birthday past already."

"How did we start dating?" She came up with another question so quickly.

Jaemin kept the eyes on the road. "I don't remember honestly."

She exclaims. "You don't remember?"

He goes quiet and Yeeun turns around staring at the front trailing. "I was a homewrecker weren't I?"

Jaemin's face swung to the side stuttering in panic. He saw how fast her expression went from blank to absolutely depressing.

"Uhm— no no I didn't mean..." oh god Yeeun totally misunderstood him right there.

"I was a whore wasn't I?" Yeeun turns around blurting out. She really was thinking about it deep. Jaemin blinks down at the woman turning to the road.

She waits for an answer but Jaemin’s silence was enough to answer every little assumption she had about herself.

"Yeeun honey it doesn't matter right? We are married now and we have children today."

The confused woman paused. Yeeun turns to him hearing the world simple alert her.

"We have children?" Yeeun retorts shocked.

The house in front when the car parks right outside was a house nearing the forest behind as well as a farmland.

Yeeun getting out the car and looking around she saw horse stables, she saw pig pens and cows. Moreover chicken coops too. She couldn't remember a single thing about this place .

Jaemin brings his hands on to Yeeun and pulls her to the side so they can walk to the house together. He opens the door and Yeeun looks around the house.

"How many children do we have?" She asked.

"You'll see now." Jaemin smirks.

The man whistles with the hands and instantly a ruckus upstairs were heard. Two younger boys around the age six slide down the stairway railings jump down. They wore identical blue overalls and a loose shirt underneath them.

A young girl slightly older comes down wearing a pink floral dress with a toy bunny in her hand.

Jaemin turns an eye on the three children. "Where are the other two troublemakers?"

Yeeun felt her face widen when an older boy jumps down from the railings landing on two feet right in front of her. She screams going behind Jaemin.

"ah there he is!" Jaemin taps the older boys shoulder. He looked to be the eldest amongst the others. He also carried a younger boy to be an infant, the youngest child.

She heavily exclaims. "I have four children?"

Jaemin points at the baby. "Nope five honey. Don't forget Yongsoo."

"Why do i have so many children..." 'did I not know condoms existed? What the fuck...'

She nods looking at them. None sparked a memory to her and she look about the house. Neither did the inside of the house spark a memory.

“Well you strapped me to the bed, you know how that went.” He pops in a flirtious joke leaving Yeeun stunned to stand there. Seriously in front of the kids?

"What are there names?" She'd whisper to Jaemin and he turns around nodding. "I'll introduce them.”

Yeeun nods listening to Jaemin when he approaches a taller boy, he wore a loose red shirt and denim shorts. The hair was nearly brushed back. "This boy right here is Hanuel. He is the oldest son. Does the name ring any sparks to you?"

She shook her head.

Jaemin turns around to the younger girl in pink floral dress. "Okay maybe Haewon will. She's our only daughter."

Yeeun said nothing and Jaemin took it as a no. He turns to the twin boys with a large smirk lifting them up.

"These are the twins. The one with a lisp is Insu. The one with wider ears is Insung."

She stares at them nodding giving an awkward wave. Yeeun feels like she's never been around children ever in her life.

"The last child is Yongsoo. He's the baby." Jaemin puts the children down and picks up the infant he puts it in her hands and she shakily held the child.

Yongsoo looks at Yeeun before pulling on her hair and she pushed the child back into Jaemin's hands.

"Maybe you should hold him for now. I'm going to take a look around the home." Yeeun states walking around the house.

The house was on a farmland. It clearly had been occupied by animals outside in the stables and the barn. However, Yeeun never felt like she would be working here. Imagining living here with a full household it just didn't click to be her thing. Soon after Yeeun walks upstairs checking the rooms.

The children shared a giant room all together. They had a bed next to another. They had a little corner full of books for children.

Then Yeeun moves to the room next door it was a double bed with a small bathroom in it.

The children had their shared bathroom on the same floor. Downstairs it was a large living space, with a small broken down tv from a super old brand. The kitchen was spacious too but it was linked to the living room space too.

She holds her head sighing. "What even is happening..."

Jaemin plops behind Yeeun without realising and she jolts up screaming. "Whoa whoa! It's just me." Jaemin says.

She turns around heavily breathing. "Do you always creep up on people?"

He smirks flirtatiously leaning down. "Why do you think you fell for me huh? You loved me creeping up on you."

'What on earth was I thinking back then.' Yeeun looks away glaring.

Jaemin seems satisfied seeing her reaction and he clears his throat looking at the time. "Let's get the children to sleep because they have school tomorrow. Me however I'm leaving."

"What!.."

The young woman grabs Jaemin's forearms in worry when he was leaving downstairs. He moves his eyes to watch the hands stopping on tracks.

Yeeun bursts out hushing. "What do you mean you're leaving me with the kids here."

He shifts. "It's what I always do, go to the bar meet up my friends, have a beer or two. It never bothered you before."

"But... won't you sent them to bed too?"

"Nope you can handle it. They understand."

She gulps. Mentally prepping to be alone with five small children wasn't good for her and unfortunately it looks like her husband wasn't bothered nor caring for how much it made her feel anxious. Jaemin slammed the front door leaving them all alone.

Yeeun deeply sighs.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank youu! Reblog and follow me for more updates on this series it helps a girl out <3

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storiesofsvu · 10 months

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Solace in Solitude Ch 2

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, medical/injuries talked about (i googled, don't come for me if they're not 100% right), hurt, minor anxiety, two buttheads not getting along.

You were right, Emily was exhausted. And she was annoyed. Both that she was so tired and that you had been right about it. Not that she expected to be full of energy bounding around the room, she’d just wanted to pull one up on you, prove that you were wrong, that she could and would do better. Instead she’d ended up sleeping most of the rest of the day, her brain still foggy, not fully able to pick up whatever French programs were playing on the television. With her attention lacking, she drifted off more than once, only waking up when a nurse was back in the room prodding at her body again. Her body ached, even just getting out of the bed and making it the eight steps to the bathroom winded her, which of course just made her more tired and even more annoyed.

This whole recovery thing sucked.

At least you weren’t so early on your rounds when you checked in on her today, she was awake, half paying attention to the television, a breakfast tray on the small table at the bedside.

“Morning Valerie.” You greeted with a smile, “how’re you feeling today?”

“Bout the same.” She grumbled.

“Have you managed to get up at all? Even within the room?”

“A couple of times.”

“Good.” You flipped open her chart, checking any additions since you’d left the night prior, “let’s keep that up for a few days and then we can start with trips down the hall, make sure your body’s up to it.”

“I didn’t think you meant it when you said I’d be this tired.”

“Yeah, anaesthesia can be a bitch like that.” You commented, checking a few of her vitals before you eyed the still full tray of breakfast, “not to mention your body needs fuel if it’s going to heal.” You moved back to the foot of the bed, scribbling into her chart, “you need to eat.”

“They’re withholding coffee.” She grumbled, sinking back into the bed.

“And you thought that warranted a hunger strike?” You huffed a laugh, “without a spleen you’re going to need to limit your intake of coffee, among other things. Didn’t a nurse drop off those pamphlets?”

“Yeah.” Her gaze drifted over to the bedside table where they sat untouched, she figured her life was already altered enough she could go another day without knowing every other change she would have to accommodate just to survive.

“Then eat.”

“Would you touch that?” She gestured toward the tray, wincing at the pain in her side as she did and you let out a soft sigh. The tray had a container of applesauce, a banana, a couple pieces of bread, “who eats jello for breakfast?”

“I would if I had just had my spleen and part of my stomach removed and it was advised and instructed by my doctor.” You cocked a brow in her direction as you continued to update her chart, she simply scoffed at you.

A nurse wandered in to check on a couple of things and make sure there was a large fresh bottle of water left on the table. You seamlessly swapped over to French while they were in the room, continuing to check in with Emily about how she was feeling, getting more specific on details and you checked over the stitches on her incision before the nurse finally left.

“Your French is really good.” You commented, readjusting her gown back down and loosely tucking the bedding in before peeling off your gloves, “you speak anything else?”

“I dunno.” She grumbled, rolling to face the window, “am I allowed to talk about that?”

“Ah.” Your lips pursed, holding back a sigh, “well, I’ve got some other patients to see. They can page me if you need anything and I’ll check on you before I leave. And you better have eaten something by then.”

Emily didn’t dare move; she didn’t dare breathe until she was certain the door was shut behind you before she suddenly let out the choke of a breath. Tears welled in her eyes and she couldn’t help as they rolled down her cheeks, not bothering to wipe them away, this didn’t just suck, this was absolutely horrible.

She’d barely managed to calm herself down by the next time a nurse came into the room, this time they seemed to be focussed on her breathing and heart rate. Whatever panic soaring through her was being reflected by the machines she’d forgotten she was hooked up to. The nurse talked her down until she felt like she could breathe again and Emily curled up on her side with her back to the door when it was suggested she try to eat something. There was a pit in the deep of her stomach, heavy and lingering, almost creeping through her body with waves of nausea and she was certain that food wouldn’t help with that, no matter what medical professionals said. Reaching out she hit the button to send more pain meds into her IV, the stifled cries and deep breaths sending shooting pains through her side, her hand gingerly clutching where the stitches were, moving to rub softly at the ache in her ribs. She didn’t want to be doing this, didn’t want to be here especially not like this, without someone by her side. The longer she was conscious the more memories she found were coming back to her, she could see the haze of Derek hovering over her as he pleaded for her to hang on. Penelope’s voice strangled with sorrow on the voicemail she’d left. If it hadn’t been for you mentioning a blonde she would’ve thought she was going crazy, that her mind was sending her some kind of guardian angel in the form of JJ while the ambulance sired blared, she could almost feel her hand in hers.

It had already been over three weeks and she couldn’t help but wonder if her team was already beginning to forget her. If she would be nothing but a long lost memory to them by the time she was finally able to get out of here. She caught herself spiraling, wondering if she ever actually would be allowed out of here, if she’d ever get the chance to go home, maybe this was supposed to be home permanently now.

You spent the majority of your day switching between the ER and the OR, there had been a couple of call ins of other doctors so you were actually kept relatively busy. A handful of smaller injuries, stitches to be done, tests to run to rule out worse conditions before sending them back home or off to a different specialty, an easy appendectomy to spice up your day with a little bit of surgery. You got outside for your lunch break, thankful to breathe the fresh air without the smell of hospital for an hour, it always helped you relax a little bit more. You’d been thumbing your way through a novel with the intention of getting a chapter or two in over the break but the words were all starting to blend together. After countless amounts of paperwork in French your brain was starting to not want to comprehend it anymore, practically begging to revert back to English. So you let out a soft sigh and closed the book, hopefully your afternoon would involve more cutting than paperwork.

Reluctantly, you returned back inside the hospital, checking through a few charts before you got called off to another surgery, thankful that you could immerse yourself into that and not have to worry about anything else for the next few hours. There were no issues, the patient pulling through perfectly before being sent off to recovery and you headed back to the nurses station to finish up on a few things. You made sure the chart was updated with details from the last surgery and assigned a nurse to keep watch on them overnight in case anything popped up.

The day was winding down and everyone could feel it, the extra excitement buzzing through the air thanks to it being Friday, chatter of weekend plans, date nights, family outings all around you. You were going through your patients charts to see how everyone had faired through the day and if there was anything you’d need to check up on before taking off, adding in notes here and there, signing off that you’d seen them. Across from you a few of the other doctors were wrapping up their own things, asking if the others were doing something that evening. When the resounding answer was no there was an invite for drinks, one that extended to another nurse as they walked up to the desk. Your eyes flitted up briefly but the group was so wound up in each other they barely even glanced your way and you huffed quietly. While everyone here was professional and approachable enough, they’d help out if you had questions or needed something but there was absolutely no interest when it didn’t happen within the four walls of the hospital. You’d been rather friendless for the past three weeks and you highly doubted that was going to change anytime soon.

Emily’s chart was the last one in your pile, the last thing you had to go through before you achieved freedom. Naturally, that became a bigger obstacle than you’d been hoping for. As you read through the updates from her day and checked through things you let out a frustrated groan, letting the chart fall shut before you tossed it back into the rack. Just as you pocketed your phone you heard someone speaking French but this time, actually directed to you.

“Your VIP girl?”

“Yeah.” You grumbled back in the same language, “turns out the ‘p’ is for pain in my ass.” They chuckled,

“Sucks. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Gracing them with a friendly smile and a small wave you turned from the counter, wandering down to Emily’s room. As per usual, the door was shut, thinking maybe killing with kindness would help you gently knocked, waiting a moment before slipping into the space. Emily’s eyes flicked up from the book in her lap, practically glaring you down as the door swung shut behind you.

“Great. What’d you want?” She grumbled, looking back down to the book.

“You to realize that dumping your uneaten breakfast in the bathroom garbage doesn’t go unnoticed by the nurses.”

“Maybe if they weren’t so nosy.”

“Valerie you need to eat.” You let out a quiet sigh, folding your arms onto the table at the foot of her bed, “I know you might not be hungry yet but your body needs nutrients to heal properly, even if it’s just a couple of bites at a time.”

“Whatever.”

“You know, we see this a lot in people who have gone through traumas, that’s part of the reason I pushed for someone to come down from psych today.”

“That was you!?” Her gaze shot up to you, cutting you off instantly as she glared you down, her voice hardening as she spoke, “you sent in the shrink? Why would I need a shrink?! You’re being ridiculous.”

“I get that you’re upset, but you really don’t need to be mad at me about following hospital policy. It’s standard procedure for patients like yourself. At the very least, just let me make sure the paperwork reflects that we’re doing the right thing?”

“Paperwork said he was here, he was here. Believe me.”

“Okay.” You held up your hands in submission, “normally we do wait a week or so depending on everything else but considering the whole food thing I thought it might be worthwhile. Clearly I pushed too soon.”

“Yeah. You did.” She glared, “I’m fine.”

“Well… for what it’s worth I do think it’s a pretty good idea for you to talk to someone.” You stated, readjusting your stance against the table.

“Oh? So what, now you’re gonna shrink me?”

“Not my specialty.” You shrugged, “but if you decide to open up to me then so be it. Otherwise I can put the call in to psych and have someone come down again when you’re ready.”

“You want me to open up? Really?”

“That’s the general idea of talking to a shrink, yeah.” You nodded and her eyes narrowed in your direction, you could see the tension building in her body as she spoke.

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that when I’m supposed to pretend that I died a month ago? You want me to talk to someone about what happened that night but half my medical records are redacted, destroyed or simply don’t exist. When I woke up this morning? I couldn’t even remember the name that was on my hospital band, and you want me to be able to twist up some weird fake stories to help my mental state?!” Her voice shook, the raw emotion starting to break her cool façade, and she took a heavy breath, dropping back into the bed, “you say it was a car accident, it was a car accident.” She held up her hands to signal that that was it, “I clearly had a head injury, I don’t remember the details and I’m not about to do a cognitive interview on myself, okay?”

She picked up the book again but you could tell her eyes weren’t focussing on the words and you could see the shimmering of tears in them, knowing just how frustrated she felt. Emily truly didn’t understand how this was supposed to be helping, she just had to keep shoving everything down until this was all over, she was good at that, she could do that, but not if you kept prying into her life and shattering the illusion that it was going to be okay.

“Well,” you let out a sigh, “then I guess if you’re ever ready to talk, you really are stuck talking to me.” She didn’t reply, keeping her gaze on the book as she did her best to ignore you so you pushed off the table, “if you’re not gonna talk at least do me a favour and eat something. If you haven’t by the next time I see you I’m putting in a feeding tube, understood?”

“Sac a merde.” She muttered and you let out a small laugh.

“I’m fluent, remember?”

“Vai a fotterti.”

“Ah, Italian, now we’re getting creative.” This time she did look up, a glare still on her face as you pulled the door open, “eat your dinner.”

With that last warning you were gone from the room and Emily was left to let out an angry growl, tossing the book onto the bedside table. There was still a pit in her stomach but this one was beginning to gnaw away at her and she was starting to think maybe it was hunger related. She picked up the bottle of water to take a couple of sips, her eyes landing on the brochures one of the nurses had brought by earlier. Maybe if she read through them she’d understand what was going on with her body a little better, maybe it would make this easier.

Unlocking the door to your apartment you let out a sigh of relief, kicking off your shoes as you entered the code for the security system. You’d picked up dinner on the way home, you couldn’t be bothered to cook, not now, not with the limited amount of mental energy you had left. You needed a drink. A stiff one.

Keys were dropped on the counter along with your bag and dinner before you disappeared into your bedroom to change out of work clothes. Once you were cozy in a pair of shorts and a tank you padded through the apartment, tidying up a couple of things you’d left out during the busy work mornings. You pulled down a wine glass, filling it higher than usual with merlot, scooping up your phone and food to take out onto the balcony. This was one of your saving graces, the nightly ritual that had been to unwind out in the cooling air, taking in the views of the city as the sun sunk in the sky. It calmed you down after long days at the hospital and you certainly needed it tonight. This entire project had been one you’d been apprehensive of from the start but you’d at least had time to let things sink in, to get used to the new routine in a new place. It had been considerably easier when Emily was still unconscious and you let out a groan at the thought of having to deal with her again in the morning.

A chorus of laughter burst from down in the street below and you felt a wave of melancholy shoot through you, thinking about the others from work out on the town tonight. You understood being on the outside and you understood why you were, but it would be a lie to say that some nights it didn’t get a little lonely. You’d thought that maybe you and Emily would’ve bonded over that, being trapped in a life that you didn’t necessarily want. That you’d be friends, have each other’s backs until this whole thing was over. You took a hefty swig of wine, shaking your head at yourself, at how naïve and ridiculous you’d been. She wasn’t going to be your friend, that was for sure, it was almost like she blamed you for waking up in Paris, like you had personally made the call and lugged her halfway around the world yourself. Your gaze drifted out onto the horizon, watching the last few rays of sunlight dancing through the sky as you let out a small sigh. You’d let her keep playing the victim card a little longer, after all, she did have the reason to be miserable. You knew she’d tire out of it eventually and come around, it would just be a test of willpower to see how long it would take her to cave.

At least you weren’t trapped in a hospital bed. You had some sense of freedom around the city, a freedom she was likely jealous of and that certainly wasn’t helping things. Hopefully things would change once she was discharged.

________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @scorpsik @prentiss-theorem @strongsassysexysloane @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @kalixxh @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @tommyriddleobsessed @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @iluvsreid @kmc1989

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #solace in solitude #emily prentiss series #emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds fanfic

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riality-check · 11 months

Note

👉👈 could i request another lil ficlet that includes steve getting comfortable with his body as it changes over time, that shit is so healing

Hi anon, of course you can!! I love getting requests, even though I might take a bit to answer them!!

I'm going to take this one in a slightly different direction, if that's alright with you. I've got a couple of thoughts about Steve and migraines that I'm using this opportunity to share.

(For those who missed it, this ficlet is the one anon is referring to!)

Steve thought, like most people, that his twenties would be filled with adventure. He'd get to party, make mistakes, learn about himself, and have fun. He'd go places and find a place to call home and maybe even a person, too.

But he's twenty years old, and at least once every two weeks, he's out of commission because his brain decides to scream at him.

Scream is probably too kind of a word. Jackhammer through his eye socket fits better, but that takes too much effort to say.

Today is one of the jackhammer days, and Steve doesn't even get all the fun warning signs and the aura before it sets in because he wakes up to pain so bad that opening his eyes feels monumental.

Woo-hoo, twenties!

He rolls over to smash his face into his pillow. It blocks out the light, and the pressure helps, but being face-down is going to make him nauseous in a few minutes.

What he'd give to be normal.

A hand snakes its way into his hair, lightly ruffling it, and while, normally, Steve considers himself exceptionally lucky and ahead of the curve (for once) for already having found his person to call home, right now he wishes he were alone.

Not really. The hand in his hair has to go, though. It's too much when breathing hurts.

He groans and tries to move out of the way, but that hurts, too.

"Oh, shit," Eddie whispers, taking his hand away. "Migraine day?"

Steve hums, though it ends up being more of a whimper.

"Okay," Eddie says.

The bed shifts next to Steve, and the sound of footsteps appears and disappears. Before Steve musters the courage or willpower to turn back over and open his eyes, the bed dips again, and gentle hands are rolling him over.

He groans in anticipation of the light, but it doesn't hit his eyes. Eddie must have closed the curtains.

"Water is on the nightstand, along with your meds. I don't know how much they'll help now, but if you can stomach them, I think you should take them," Eddie says softly. "Do you want the ice pack?"

Steve nods, just barely.

Gently, Eddie places the ice pack, already wrapped in a towel, on his forehead. Steve sighs when the cold makes contact with his skin.

"Sorry," he rasps. He's glad Eddie brought him water, even if he can't make himself grab it yet. His voice is a wreck.

"What for?" Eddie asks, lightly running a hand up and down Steve's bare arm.

"Making you do this."

Eddie huffs. Steve cracks his eyes open to see him frowning, like he expected.

"You don't make me do anything," Eddie says. "Do I make you do anything on the days my nerve pain flares?"

"No," Steve mumbles.

It's just not fair. The monsters are dead and gone. Steve is young and strong and hot and able, except for the days when he isn't. He shouldn't have days when he isn't, not when the shit that caused them is dead.

He wishes this was something like the Mind Flayer. Something that could be exorcised from him or cut out like a tumor. Something that can be killed.

Steve is good at killing things. He isn't good at fighting by standing down.

"So, we have a day in," Eddie says, still quiet. "I wanted to finish my book, anyway. Mind if I read next to you?"

"Sounds good," Steve says.

He closes his eyes again, hears the rustling of sheets as Eddie gets settled in next to him.

It does sound good. Eddie has a way of spinning things, of distracting them both from both of their pain.

Steve wishes he could see himself in Eddie's eyes. He wonders what he'd look like. He wonders about the thoughts that Eddie doesn't share.

He's long grown past the misguided belief that those thoughts are bad.

Steve isn't good at fighting by standing down. But he thinks, as the light sound of Eddie's steady breathing and the blissful dark and the pleasant cold of the ice pack start to lull him back to sleep, despite the pain, that he doesn't have to fight. That this is just a condition of existence, just something to be lived with.

Not an enemy. Just baggage. And Steve can use his arms to hold it instead of swing.

He isn't normal. Neither is Eddie. And that's okay, too.

#ria writes #asked and answered #thanks for asking!!#anon #steddie #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #st #st ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson

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headkiss · 2 years

Note

Hey! I’m not sure if this is too specific of a request or not but i saw you were taking requests so decided to shoot my shot? So it's a steve x reader imagine where they have defeated vecna and all. And reader was the one in place of max who got in the coma but now she's awake. But she can feel steve pulling away from her after everything. And one day she just gets fed up and asks him why is he doing this to them and my brain keeps imagining that scene in greys anatomy where Alex is yelling at Izzy that “you freakin died in my arms…I’m scared to move, I’m scared to breath, I’m scared to touch you”

you of course don't have to do it if you don't want toooo! and you can also take as much creative liberty as you want to if you do decide to do it 😀

anyway i love your writing sm, it brings me a lot of joy! thank youuuu ♥️

hiii as a greys fan myself i sort of had to write this and i hope i did it well!! thank you so much for requesting and being so nice | 0.9k words angst to fluff (?) i think!

Things have been different ever since you woke up. Ever since Vecna cursed you and put you in a coma, since your friends defeated him and El somehow saved your life.

It was terrifying, and the amount of time that passed while you were unconscious was disorienting. For you and everyone else.

It was difficult for all of you, the trauma and the fear that remained. The idea that you could’ve died. You could barely grasp it.

You can’t imagine what it was like for Steve, for the boy who loved you and you loved right back. You have no idea what you would’ve done had the roles been reversed, how you would have coped not knowing if he’d wake up or not.

You knew that he came to visit you at least once a day, and would even sleep in a cot next to you sometimes. It makes your heart ache.

It made sense for him to be extra careful with you for the first couple of weeks. He would help you stand, help you move around. He wouldn’t leave your side.

Now, however, a couple of months of healing and physical therapy down, you wished he would treat you normally again. Everyone was still so wary around you and you knew why, you just wanted someone to make you feel like yourself. You wanted Steve to do that.

You were still the same person, just with thick glasses and less flexible limbs, but still you.

You don’t remember the last time he kissed you somewhere that wasn’t your forehead or hand or cheek. The last time he actually kissed you.

It’s like he’s pulling away without meaning to, drifting further from what you were.

You’re on his couch watching a movie, cuddled close and holding hands. Even pressed together, there’s a distance between you and you can feel it.

You shift to kiss his neck, just soft pecks up to his jaw. He turns his face when you get close, kissing you. Finally. It’s nothing extreme, no tongue or anything, but it’s something.

When you try to deepen it, he pulls away. “Baby.”

“What’s wrong, Steve?”

“Nothing,” he runs a hand through his hair, like he’s stressed. “Can we just watch the movie?”

“No.” You sit up fully to face him, “we need to talk about this.”

“About what?”

“Steve, come on. Ever since I woke up you won’t kiss me, you’ll barely even touch me.”

His heart is pounding because he knows you’re right but he’s scared. He’s terrified that you’ll be ripped away from him again and he can’t get it out of his head. It haunts him every day.

“I kiss you.”

“You know what I mean. I know it was scary, Steve. I know. But I’m right here, and I need you to be, too.”

He has to be honest, he knows that, but he feels guilty feeling this way when you’re the one who died.

“You died. You died in my arms and I watched it happen. I couldn’t save you… I couldn't do anything. I was so scared, and I know that you were too, but you don’t know what it was like for me.”

You understand where he’s coming from, and it brings tears to your eyes to think about what kind of state he was in. Only, you’re okay now, and he needs to understand that.

“Listen to me. I know you were afraid and alone but I’m here now,” you take his hand and place it on your cheek, yours holding it there. “I’m alive and with you.”

“You’re not, though!” He doesn’t mean to be so loud, or to get frustrated but he can’t help it. “You can barely see without those glasses and I see you wince all the time. You’re not the same, neither of us are. I’m scared to move, I’m scared to breathe. I’m terrified that I’ll do something that hurts you.”

You’re crying now, you both are.

“Steve. What hurts me is how you’re treating me like something breakable. I’m safe. We’re safe.”

He swipes his thumb over your cheek, you reach out and do the same to his. Things won’t be solved so quickly, both of you know that, but it’s a start.

“I know. I know that, I do, I’m just so scared.”

You move his hand to press over your heart, letting him feel it beat. He takes in a shaky breath, like it’s really helping him. You’re alive and that’s what’s important, he’s aware of it. He thinks he’ll make a new habit of listening to your heartbeat.

He leans his forehead against yours. “I’ll try to be better. I’m sorry for being distant.”

“You’re already amazing, Steve. You take care of me and I love you so much for it. I just want you to see that everything’s gonna be fine.”

He kisses you, one, two, three quick pecks that might not be much, but the contact grounds you both. It’s what you’ve been needing for so long.

“I love you too, baby. Can't imagine my life without you.”

“You don’t have to anymore. I’m here, and I’m staying.”

He’s impossibly grateful that you’re his, that you survived despite the odds. He’s grateful that you spoke up because he didn’t realize how much he needed to let it out until you did.

He’s eternally grateful that you love him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington request #steve harrington requests #steve harrington story #steve stranger things #steve harrington imagines #stevie blurbs #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine

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nihoneshi · 1 month

Text

Welcome to Aqua Rambles on about KFP

I just finished binging Kung Fu Panda 1-3 (not 4 yet) and man outside of a few secondhand embarrassment scenes, because there are a couple of them still for my brain, What I will say is this

god I do miss KFP fandom so so much but I also was REALLY young when I first found myself in that fandom, so like, It's only a matter of time before I found myself brainrotting the movies again and even shorter of time before I re-entered Fandom Space.

So let's get the obvious ones out of the way. God I love Tragedies and the whole prophecy that was laid out hundreds of years ago, I love how cohesive the Trilogy is (I think we all agree that KFP3 was the true end of the Series, since not even the VAs liked KFP4 and it was a glorified corporate cash grab, but don't worry, AUs exist (: )

Tai Lung and General Kai are definitely by far the two MAIN villains I vibe with the most given their situations (Tragedy Affliction & Bond Brother Give-Take disagreement) I do love Shen but my love for him is extremely nuanced on the fact he's a diabolical genocidal sociopath but he's also oddly fucking dramatic, theatrical and comedic of a villain DESPITE the 3 words I JUST called him.

But also the Wolf Boss.. God he's a bastard (affectionate) but EVERY TIME HE "INSULTS" PO HE JUST GOES OFF ON NON-THREATENING TERMS homie please stop being bisexual on the battlefield lmaO /pos.

The Will to write Tai Lung just like 13yo me wanted to has not changed outside of the fact that after a decade more of writing with extremely intricate and nuanced characters with complex tragedies and traumas, I feel like I could finally do justice with this Snow Leopard (especially with Redemption Arcs, because hee-ho I write Saren Arterius, you know. Mass Effect 1's big bad villain that is just as much as a tragedy as Tai Lung but unlike Tai Lung this idiot decided to try to get parasitical genocide machines to spare them and ended up getting indoctrinated against his will)

Now onto Main Cast. Just like kid me, Viper and Mantis were my two go-to idols for KFP1, my love for Crane's realism-centric attitude and Tigress' having second thoughts and a much more intricate wake-up call in KFP2 and on became so much more apparent, like, trust me I haven't watched any of the other animated content but you can tell like, these 6 have gotten so attached to one another (Monkey and Po, especially, literally best buds love that for them)

But the SHEER amount of times I have said this phrase "Viper, Please rephrase yourself" has been in the nearly every thing she has ever said she is so upfront and has misread the room every single damn time. and don't even GET ME Started on KFP2/3 Tigress, the sheer amount of character development she gets is insane

she goes from an asshole to deep down realizing that Po has fallen still due to mental turmoil SEVERAL times and isn't keeping Po down there with Ox and Croc because she doesn't want him getting in the way but BECAUSE She doesn't want him to get hurt like him freezing up both times has gotten him. And then further more watching Po teach everyone their own ways of Kung-Fu all the WHILE TIGRESS IS HOLDING ON TO A BABY PANDA THE WHOLE TIME, EVEN FIGHTING WITH THE KID. AND THEN SHE CARRIES THEM AROUND EVEN AT THE JADE PALACE AT THE END OF THE MOVIE.

And please I can't fucking believe it took Crane several MOVIES TO GET HIS FUCKING NECK FIXED AFTER WHAT TAI LUNG DID TO HIM, HOMIE HAD A CROOKED NECK FOR MONTHS. There were scenes in KFP2 and Early KFP3 where this man's neck was still partially FUCKED. Dude shrugs it off like it's nothing and then proceeds to heal his wing in merely a few damn days max.

The Theatrics, all of the animations, the voice work.. god damn I adore these three movies so so much. But there is one thing I was not expecting and honestly I should've seen it coming.

My eventual brainrot and emotional attachment to side characters and characters with very minimal screen time (I should've seen this with me Writing Volteer from The Legend of Spyro, Nihlus Kryik from Mass Effect 1, and many more)

Dude I LOVE Master Croc, I don't know why SPECIFICALLY him but like. I like how he looks so cocky wanted to kick Shen's shit in, even laughing to himself, how he's so so loyal to Ox after Rhino's (supposed death), like you KNOW these three were inseparable and it LOOKS like Rhino reunites with Master Ox and Master Croc at the end of KFP3 that's what I hope if it was even only for a couple of minutes following what was probably Rhino heading back to the Spirit Realm.

I really love Master Croc, it is not even funny he's such a character, a silly, perhaps.

but now my rambles go to something else, since it takes place in the era that it does.. and like.. my hoard of Dragon OCs and Dragon Characters (literally all the guys on this blog ARE dragons!~ ) Like.. what would be the general consensus of a Dragon popping up in universe? Since back then they're still hailed as deities (Like the Dragon Kings, and all the dragon deities in both Chinese and Japanese mythology)

I am so so curious. But maybe I should add more to my rambles later when I am not so tired but god I have ideas and WILL enact on them.

A tiny edit: I 100% support kaiway due to the context I now have from watching KFP3, homie you have spent all the time in the world holding up Oogway's Chi charm like you want him to see everything like, they def. had something going on pre-banishment

#out of paint: ooc #Kung Fu Panda #KFP #KFP2 #KFP3

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bookshelf-in-progress · 11 months

Text

Purity of Mind: A Bluebeard Retelling

Dora looked so innocent, asleep on her bed. The fresh white bandages binding her crown looked more like a mark of holiness than disaster. The doctor claimed she'd fallen from a balcony and hit her head upon a stair rail. Adam thought it seemed too suspicious an accident. A disaster on the one day he'd left the house? His sure-footed little wife wouldn't have stumbled like that--not unless she were nearly out of her wits. Perhaps fleeing from some great terror.

"She'll wake soon," the doctor assured him. "Her body's healed enough, but with a head injury like that, there's no telling what state her brain will be in."

The state itself, Adam thought, would be telling enough.

As if roused by the doctor's words, Dora's eyelids fluttered. She sat up, pale and trembling. Her gaze landed upon Adam, and she started to scream.

"Who are you?" she shrieked, gathering the bedclothes to cover herself. "What are you doing in my room?"

Adam had steeled himself for the usual accusations, but this left him off-balance.

Finally, he managed to say, "Dora, it's just me. Adam. Your husband."

"I have no husband!"

"We wed six months ago."

"Liar!" she shrieked. "I'd never marry a man with such an awful beard!"

Adam stroked his blue-black whiskers, neatly trimmed for his homecoming. A deep chuckle rumbled in his throat; after months of her tiptoeing around him, her frankness was amusing. "I paid your parents richly for the privilege."

Dora paused at that. The mercenary child of mercenary parents--the tale would ring true, no matter her objections to his facial hair. Yet the bewilderment didn't fade from her face. "I've never seen this house before."

"You've been mistress here six months."

"I don't believe you."

"Whether you believe me or not, it's true. You fell from a staircase and hit your head."

Her eyes were fire. "I'll bet you pushed me!"

"I was away from home. I only just returned." He would never have opted for such an impersonal death. It was much more satisfying to feel the life draining away beneath his fingers.

The thought brought him back to reality. No need to wrestle with her delusions; only one truth mattered.

"Dora," Adam asked. "Where are the keys?"

"What keys?"

"I left the keys of the house in your keeping. I'll need them returned."

"I never had any keys!"

Adam looked to the doctor, who said, "We've found no keys on her person."

Missing? Impossible. Adam stormed from the room and set the servants searching for the keys. Nothing in her wardrobe. Nothing in the rooms. Nothing in the gardens.

The door on the third floor was locked, with no signs of entry.

Adam returned to the sickroom as the sun was setting. Dora sat quietly on her bed, having been calmly convinced of her new reality, completely unaware of the turmoil she'd thrown his life into.

He could have torn her limb from limb right there, but he had no proof yet she was deserving of it. For the moment, his strategy was gentleness.

He sat on the bed beside her. "Dora, my dove, think. Can you remember where the keys might be?"

"I can't even remember you."

Adam examined her in every detail--the tips of her fingers, the whites of her eyes, the curl of her lips. No signs of deception.

"You truly can't remember anything?"

Tears glittered in her eyes as she shook her head.

She looked as innocent as a newborn babe. The timid little fool he'd married couldn't fake such total ignorance. If she'd peered behind the door, she'd lost the memory of what she'd seen. If she'd disobeyed, he had no way of knowing.

A new twist to the game--a second chance.

Adam left the room in a state of contentment. He could get new keys made. His secret was safe--locked away either behind the door or in his wife's blank mind.

And if her memory returned? If she had memories of that bloody chamber?

He could always kill her later.

#the bookshelf progresses #fairy tale retellings #bluebeard #this one creeps me out #but when i got a prompt for 'fairy tale heroine with amnesia' i couldn't resist telling this one #because it's so awful #and because this is so different from the tone i usually write #i don't know if it's the type of thing i should write #but in the interests of organization #and because this is technically a fairy tale retelling and i keep those here #i decided it's worth the repost

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wardenmages · 1 year

Text

Okay so after that "didn't die when they should have died" post earlier I just rambled for several paragraphs into a semi-coherent fic about Gavin's PTSD in Detroit Reawakening and Detroit Evolution, with some mention of Detroit Absolution/D3. This is a fair amount of headcanon as well as my interpretation of certain scenes.

So here is some musing on Gavin's presentation of PTSD and how healing isn't linear and doesn't end but sometimes the people we love make it a little bit easier to live with it, and that sometimes healing means leaving situations we didn't realize were hurting us because it was better than where we started.

-----------

Gavin startles easily and violently. One time a rookie who didn't know any better tapped him on the shoulder and he spun around and decked them in the middle of the bullpen before his brain kicked in to follow his fist. He wears a heavy jacket because it muffles the world around him into a dull ache rather than a constant prickling on his skin down to his bones.

It's easy to tell when he's pulled an all-nighter from the pile of disposable coffee cups on his desk - he didn't have time to clean out a mug every time he went back for more. He's even less patient and understanding than usual. On particularly bad days, people watch him roll his shoulders and touch the back of his head to chase away bruises that healed on the surface years ago.

He's made a name for himself handling drug cases, but he can see Fowler wishes he'd take anything else. It makes him bristle and dive even further into his cases, because fuck Fowler if he doesn't trust Gavin, Gavin earned this. As the faces become less and less familiar, Fowler stops giving him that look whenever he goes in for supervision, and Gavin doesn't know if that means he finally proved himself or if Fowler was just waiting for Gavin to run out of options to run.

He keeps just about everyone at arm's length, except Chen and Miller. He's known Tina for years, since he was still an intern and she was working three jobs to pay for college. It's easy to like Chris, who is one of the most genuine guys Gavin's ever met. He jokes to himself that he doesn't know why Chris became a cop of all things, but he doesn't know why he's a cop either, so he lets it sit. Neither of them complain when he smokes, they don't push beers or shots into his hands at the bar, and push back when he's being a shit. For about a week he has a crush on Chris and his big cheesy smile that lights up the room and holy fucking shit he's got it bad, but he pushes it back because he only has two friends at thirty years old and he knows he's not exactly fun to be around.

Sometimes kids come through the station in his cases and it fucks him up for days. He stares at their records, a mess of foster homes, charges written in and then crossed off if they didn't stick, and notes from the overloaded caseworkers who can't even spell the kids' names. He thinks about his apartment and how it feels so big but so small at the same time, there's a spare bedroom he just uses for storage that he could clean out, he has enough savings to get furniture and shit. He keeps a tab open with the sign-up to get certified to foster. He thinks about making the system better from the inside.

He knows that's not how it works, not in the real world. The kids move on to the next house or their parents, and Gavin closes the tab and tries not to look at his badge. The next time he sees their names he pretends he never thought about them and that arresting them actually means something.

He doesn't sleep much, maybe three to four hours a night. It's impossible to fall asleep when you know it's not going to last long before your own brain betrays you. He wakes up from another nightmare, body stiff and covered in sweat, and just curls in on himself until he can force his body back into submission. It's a battle of wills more than something he needs to stay alive.

Nines helps. God, Nines makes everything feel lighter, and he stops sinking from the weight around his neck. It's still heavy and he can't help but bite whatever hand is held out to him, but it's more than bearable, he's alive.

His second near-death experience, lying on the floor of the precinct clinging onto consciousness through the numbing mess of pain and nerves at their breaking point, he nearly fades out just to make it finally stop. He wakes up in the hospital hours later terrified at how easy it was to just slip away.

He won't let it happen again. He's nearly died twice - really, truly close to death, not just in danger - and it didn't take. He's too stubborn to go out, not when he finally gives a shit about his own life and the people around him do more than just tolerate him and his friends are all moving forward and... he wants to move forward too.

So he quits his job alongside his partner. He doesn't push down how he feels about it, how as grateful as he'll always be he feels used by the system that kicked him down in the first place. He works with the kids at the shelter and talks them off the ledge. He doesn't foster, he's still adjusting to living with Nines and both of them love their privacy too much, but sometimes the kids stay the night with permission if they're struggling at the shelter. A few stop by their apartment first before even approaching the shelter.

He doesn't always know what to do or say, how to help, but he tries. He tries, and he tells them he better not read their name in the news unless it's for some kind of award. Newspaper clippings aren't a thing anymore, but he prints them out whenever he sees them, kids taking time to hang out at one of the senior centers or work in one of the urban gardens or a mentoring program with some androids, anything good. He tacks them up on the wall of his small, shitty office that never gets warm enough or cold enough but Nines brought in a couple of his plants and there's some art on the walls from Tayla and a bunch of framed photos around the place so it feels more like home.

He wakes up from a nightmare, body stiff and covered in sweat, to Nines pressed against his back holding his hand and massaging gentle circles into the tender skin where his prosthetic meets his hand. He clenches his jaw and tries to focus on the way Nines' fingers feel, the gentle glow from the edge of his skin overlay, his simulated heartbeat and breathing that Gavin knows he's amping up so Gavin can feel it.

After a few minutes, he closes his eyes and drifts back to sleep to the sound of the cat scratching at the door frame, and breathes.

#detroit evolution #detroit reawakening #gavin reed #detroit become human #dbh gavin #connor writes #I have a lot of feelings about Gavin dipshit Reed and I'm making that everyone else's problem

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fictionadventurer · 1 year

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Prompt: fairy-tale heroine of your choice wakes up with amnesia. (Maybe her husband has to explain how they got married?)

Purity of Mind

"She'll wake soon," the doctor assured him. "Her body's healed enough, but with a head injury like that, there's no telling what state her brain will be in."

The state itself, Adam thought, would be telling enough.

As if roused by the doctor's words, Dora's eyelids fluttered. She sat up, pale and trembling. Her gaze landed upon Adam, and she started to scream.

"Who are you?" she shrieked, gathering the bedclothes to cover herself. "What are you doing in my room?"

Adam had steeled himself for the usual accusations, but this left him off-balance.

Finally, he managed to say, "Dora, it's just me. Adam. Your husband."

"I have no husband!"

"We wed six months ago."

"Liar!" she shrieked. "I'd never marry a man with such an awful beard!"

"You've been mistress here six months."

"I don't believe you."

"Whether you believe me or not, it's true. You fell from a staircase and hit your head."

Her eyes were fire. "I'll bet you pushed me!"

"I was away from home. I only just returned." He would never have opted for such an impersonal death. It was much more satisfying to feel the life draining away beneath his fingers.

The thought brought him back to reality. No need to wrestle with her delusions; only one truth mattered.

"Dora," Adam asked. "Where are the keys?"

"What keys?"

"I left the keys of the house in your keeping. I'll need them returned."

"I never had any keys!"

Adam looked to the doctor, who said, "We've found no keys on her person."

Missing? Impossible. Adam stormed from the room and set the servants searching for the keys. Nothing in her wardrobe. Nothing in the rooms. Nothing in the gardens.

The door on the third floor was locked, with no signs of entry.

Adam returned to the sickroom as the sun was setting. Dora sat quietly on her bed, having been calmly convinced of her new reality, completely unaware of the turmoil she'd thrown his life into.

He could have torn her limb from limb right there, but he had no proof yet she was deserving of it. For the moment, his strategy was gentleness.

He sat on the bed beside her. "Dora, my dove, think. Can you remember where the keys might be?"

"I can't even remember you."

Adam examined her in every detail--the tips of her fingers, the whites of her eyes, the curl of her lips. No signs of deception.

"You truly can't remember anything?"

Tears glittered in her eyes as she shook her head.

A new twist to the game--a second chance.

Adam left the room in a state of contentment. He could get new keys made. His secret was safe--locked away either behind the door or in his wife's blank mind.

And if her memory returned? If she had memories of that bloody chamber?

He could always kill her later.

#answered asks #adventures in writing #fairy tale retellings #bluebeard #incomingalbatross #i could have taken this in much more pleasant directions #but when i tried to match fairy tales to the scenario most of them just became summaries of the original tale #picking one where the couple gets married before the end held more promise #i did consider 'east of the sun west of the moon'#but when this one came to mind and suggested a very different type of story i couldn't resist #i considered hinting that she's faking her amnesia #giving her a better chance to gather evidence and alert her family #but there's no great way to show that from his pov #just know that there's still a happy ending to this version of the tale #(i had wanted to pick a fairy tale where the amnesia could be magically induced)#(because i usually hate the 'bump on the head erases memory' trope)#(brain damage doesn't work like that!)#(but the drama potential outweighed medical accuracy)#(and it does further suggest she could be faking it)

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psychelis-new · 6 months

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Hi, psychelis! I hope you're doing well!

I want to ask if you have any tips in staying objective during channeling a message. I get the energy objectively when I first start channeling, but then my brain automatically take that into my perception, and so the reading then move according to my perception of the energy, not the energy itself. I do see some tarot reader also struggle with this cause their reading feels so subjective sometimes, like the energy don't match the translation they did. I think it would be harmful to provide a reading for public consumption when we're still struggling with this. Therefore, I really want to know how to overcome this state.

Thank you ahead of time, psychelis!

Hellooo I'm okay today thanks, hope you're well!

Okay let me try to explain my view and then let me know if any of what I am writing resonate or I got your words all wrong :)

As readers in order to deliver a proper message especially to others (be it pacs or personal readings), we need to take ourselves out of the energy of the reading. I think to do this, the most important thing we need to do is know ourself first, our triggers, our shadow, our unmet needs... whatever may get in the way and have us cage ourself and not be open enough to deliver the correct message out of any bias we may have. This includes also the reasons why we're channeling/reading: is it because we want to help others in anyway or because we want to be seen/validated/feel important...? (This is valid ofc, our *unconscious* feelings are valid, but it's something we need to heal or at least be aware of first, to be able to provide a good service imo). Anything that may trigger us and/or any emotion we may feel towards the person we're reading for and their situation (eg. comparing our own with theirs, feeling inferior/lacking...), needs to stay out of the way: other person, other life; it's not about us, we're nothing different from a phone when channeling. Or a language translator, if you rather. The moment we don't more or less unconsciously search for a sign for us during the reading we're providing or we don't compare with with we get, we can be sure what we're doing is okay. If we still have doubts about our job, we can ask for 1-2 cards (or you can use other divination methods): at times clarifications can help you realize if you're getting it right or not, or if you're getting in the way or not (but if you know your energy and your situation, you know when you're in the reading too).

Something else we can do, is meditating before starting to read or closing off/dissociating, simply by focusing more on the outside energy instead of the inside one. Every reader has their own method ofc, I personally tend to dissociate. I also use clairs most of the times when I read, so I focus on the feeling/words/images I get when focusing on a specific detail of a pile (for example) or of the energy I am reading for. What I also suggest, aside from taking time for yourself and healing/taking care of your own energy first and foremost, is to start by channeling for yourself (maybe every morning when you wake up, meditate or pull a card for your day), take a break, and then channel for others if you feel like you're in the right mental/emotional space: we also need to give from an excess of our energy; we cannot give well/objectively if we're healing a part of us and we feel depleted/overwhelmed cause of that or any other personal situation. [Random note: not all the tarot readers use energies: many just use tarots and rely on intuitively reading the cards they get together, which works as well especially if you have a good experience and knowledge about cards' meanings].

This said, I believe that to deliver the message we are getting (in whatever way we're are receiving it), we do need to base ourselves on our experience too, not just our intuition. Ofc at times we'll learn something new through readings or get wise words (that may work for us too, and that's good), but I noticed that, at least personally, I often get messages that I can connect with what is my personal experience or the experiences that I come to know of: this way I know what the situation is about and I can adapt the message to something more tangible, and give a better explanation and possibly be more accurate in my delivery. Always trying to stay behind the scenes ofc and being objective as the other's perception of a situation (or level of understanding/healing of it) is basically never the same as another one's/mine. What I mean is... try to put yourself in the other's shoes, with respect, understanding and kindness. It may not always work fine, but occasionally it's also a matter of how much the receiver is open to get that specific message.

And here we get to the next point: when we read (also for ourselves) or want to receive a message from a reader under determined circumstances (emotional/mental in particular), occasionally we may tend to be biased and wanting to hear determined words or specific signs. This way we guide and/or interpret the reading in a wrong way. We're not listening nor reading correctly, we're not open to get any message but just the message we want to hear. And this may happen also when readers work when too tired or stressed, overwhelmed by our problems... as mentioned in the beginning, we close off to energies, we "cage" ourselves and let our mind be closed off under our insecurities' bias. This won't do, as you said. And it's pretty "dangerous" to provide readings in this situation especially to others cause we may just end up triggering them for no reason, for example. When we read, is good to keep in mind about our emotional/mental situation and try to calm down before getting wrong infos and stress even more, also when we do it for ourselves. But it's also good to remember, it may not always solely be on us and our inability to read for a specific energy when a reading "doesn't work".

When receiving a message from a reader, the receiver always has the ability to realize when the reading is okay with them and when not. Especially when they're grounded enough to realize their own (mental/emotional) situation as well from an objective point of view. It's up to them to welcome a message, consider it (it can give them another perspective over a matter at least) or close off from it, refuse it (they may also not be ready to hear/understand that message and may need more time for it, or it really doesn't resonate with them; it's all good: it's also cause not all the readers can get every energy correctly or can read all of them for different reasons). Anyway. Relying too much on readings, not trusting your own intuition and view on the matter (whatever it is), is not something I suggest to do. Readings are never 100% correct and readers are humans too (as said). Readings cannot substitute your life's experience or the advice of a professional figure (if that's the case), they're mostly for support or entertainment. It's on the receiver as well to not take in a non-resonating message and also to give feedback, if they feel like: readers at times may misinterpret some cards or leave out a sentence (maybe cause of their own bias/situation or cause they just lose it while focusing on other aspects), and some cards may also get a specific message based on that specific reading/energy that they won't have any other time. Explanations between the two party to me are important also for further understanding/giving more insights/details that may be useful for both.

#.#about readings #i kinda got off track but i wanted to give a personal and general view anyway

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thatbrightblueshine · 5 months

Text

it had been a while. christmas is long gone. around the time it had all happened, a time that passed on so quickly, yet so slowly. it was a strange time. a strange five months. snow fell, snow melted. flowers started to blossom, flowers withered. flesh bled. flesh healed.

fiction pope / trippier under cut. be warned.

another day, another day. so many of them. kieran sat on the rim of nick's tub. 6am. he hadn't slept, sleep had become tough. he'd spent so much time with him ever since last winter, so much time he regrets, so much time he's grateful he could share with him. they'd grown together even more, beyond casual hookups after games. rushed shower blowjobs turning into romance. kieran smiles - never knew they'd end up here. neither of them have said those words yet. they don't know if they'd mean it. they don't know what it is they have, too afraid to question it. it's like kieran has been snowed in, he can't leave. can't leave nick's place. can't leave his heart, a home he had to built for himself in times of isolation. well maintained and painted in colourful colours. a bright green on good days, matching the colours of the world outside, a dark grey on bad days, like the sky when it's about to break, raindrops landing on his face, at first it's few, then it pours.

"kieran?" nick's voice took him out of the well maintained little place in his head, the place he'd been trapped in ever since it happened. it hadn't been an easy 5 months. nick had become depressed. proper depressed. it's only 6 in the morning and kieran knew that today would not be one of the rare good days, it won't be bright green. looking out of the window, the world outside about to wake, but kieran is stuck. he's forced to be asleep when the world around him is awake. nick's depression wrapping its arms around him, so comforting. like a soft blanket, so warm. so easy to let yourself go down that path when the person you're so connected to cannot smile anymore. you lose the interest to smile, too. lose the appetite for living, feeling guilty for having good days whilst they have bad days.

kieran got up and walked into the bedroom, nick sitting in the bed. "you alright?" kieran sat beside him and put his hand onto his cheek. nick shook his head "don't know. i missed you." nick had become insufferable on some days, unable to leave kieran's side. stuck to him like glue, draining every last bit of self from kieran. he had become nick. what had begun as a little fling between teammates had turned into a connection that couldn't be broken anymore. like ivy growing on that one old house you see when walking down the street, covering it. this is how possessive nick's love was to kieran. nick looked at kieran and there it was again - the despair in his eyes, the events of february forced back into his brain. the same look in his eyes as when he'd found him, in the very state he was in. whispering his name with the very last bit of air left in his lungs.

can eyes change colour? on somedays kieran wondered. when they met for the first time nick's eyes were the colour of rain, the colour of the sea around midday when the sky was cloudy. now they're a dark shade of grey, like a thunderstorm in fall, one that indicates that the rain will continue to fall for days to come. nick takes kieran's hand in his, draws along the lines on his palm. he chuckles. "remember the first time your hands touched my body?" kieran remembered it all too well - electricity, being carried from nick's body to his. he nods "yeah. why?"

"i miss it. i miss those times." nick's injury is healed, but his soul remains shattered. all those months of uncertainty, all the setbacks, the complications. on some days nick didn't know if it wouldn't be better to give up, and not just on his career. but kieran was always there, even moving in with him. he had become kieran's everything. the air he breathed, the food he ate, the water he drank. it all tasted just like him. and he was there in that one night in february. he was the one on is knees cleaning it all up. scraping it off the ground, washing it off his body. the shock is still there, so is the fear. for what they have become. for the collective they are. nick smiles, kieran doesn't know what's real and what's fake anymore. the room dark, window screens shut so that the sun would not shine through, no chance of carrying in its warmth. nick's shoulder is still fragile, healed well enough to get back into light training. but he will not be back on the grass for at least another two months so the doctors said. what was initially supposed to be four months tops has now already been six months and counting. kieran doesn't mind it - doesn't mind the things he had to sacrifice, doesn't mind the the person he had become so long as he could protect nick. he knew this wasn't healthy. it's always this room - dark. nick hasn't really left it for a while now. so hasn't kieran. it reeks of them, the smell of what they have become. it looks like them - the darkness in their hearts shining through their chests making sure it's always night no matter how often the sun sets outside of their cave.

his hand finding its way into nick's boxers, the spark is long gone. it's become a routine. the pleasure kieran can give to nick is only temporary, but it's even less than that. their kisses don't feel the same anymore, the taste of nick's lips bitter. what once tasted like honey now tastes like salt, what once felt like velvet in his hands now feels like broken glass, so afraid it will cut even deeper into his skin, yet unable to stop touching it. the pain is addictive, the blood is warm. kieran knew that the door wasn't locked - he could leave at any time. but the waking world outside had become so strange now that he had been asleep for so long, asleep with him. under the blanket on so many days, so many nights. their bodies pressed up against one another, some nights woken up by nick's body shivering in pain, his voice had become so much weaker, so much quieter, some nights he wouldn't wake anymore when he was in pain, some nights the tears dripping onto kieran's skin would go unnoticed. had he become lost in this state? he can't focus, literally forgets he's got his cock in his hand right now, nick's eyes shut, in peace for once, no sight of pain written in his face, maybe he had just forgotten how to read it. kieran's palm is loosely wrapped around his cock, slow movements, the routine that should never have become a routine. his other hand stroking through his messy hair. he desperately needs a trim, but kieran always liked it a little longer on the sides so he doesn't complain. for all the times kieran had given him relief, for what started as a joke between teammates because he couldn't use his own arm to have a wank, has somehow become his life.

feeling trapped, unable to break this pattern. unable to speak his mind, too afraid it could send him back. back to february. back to the bathroom. he adores the look on his face nevertheless, adores his features in the dim light, adores the way he can feel his body shiver under his touch, the softness of his hair between his fingers, his grip tightening just as he likes it when he knows he's close. kieran would lie if he said it hadn't happened. would lie if he said he hadn't fallen deeply in love with this shattered person prepped up on the bed in front of him. the love he felt for him was deeper than anything he had ever felt before. falling for him was like setting foot into the ocean, walking ahead, only for it to get deeper and deeper until suddenly, you're about to drown. kieran had been stuck at this part of the ocean for months now, one more step and the air will be replaced with water, his sanity replaced with delusion. and he doesn't even know if crossing this line would be worth it - doesn't know if drowning is worth it, doesn't know if nick would come to save him. nick would be too proud to ever admit it, idiot that doesn't know what love is. doubts he can tell the difference between a fling and a romance, confuses fire with ice. a single little groan from his lips, sudden warmth spread in kieran's palm. his breath picking up, just temporary. it's as if it's the only time he knows he's alive anymore, a whisper only kieran can hear.

"i love you." so quite, barely audible. maybe kieran's mind plays tricks on him, maybe he just heard what he wanted to hear. kieran's eyes open wide "what did you just say?" nick opens his eyes, confused look on his face. "i said, that felt good."

#rambles #ficlet

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myownjadedpieceofmind · 10 months

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It's been a while since I've said anything here...

I still haven't been approved for disability benefits, so most of my thoughts and energy has been zapped by trying to just stay alive right now. Financial issues aren't new, and it isn't like everyone else is doing so wonderfully that I feel like I'm alone in this. No, rather, I know I'm not alone, and in that regard I know my incessant complaints about my situation isn't changing the situation at all. So, I just don't talk about it as much.

However.... this Monday I had an appointment with my primary care doctor to really go over things. The torn hip labrum can't be fixed...or rather, the orthopedic surgeon I saw isn't confident that he can do me any good by fixing it. It seems my skull isn't the only part of my skeletal system that is messed up. I have pelvic and femoral antiversion, meaning...my bones are twisted. My pelvis is tilted, the hip sockets are too big, the hip ball joint is too small, and my femurs are twisted, so when I walk, I'm tearing my own labrum out. My left hip is already full of osteoarthritis, so if they did try to fix the right labrum, I would be putting too much stress on my left hip during the healing process that I'd likely need the left one fixed immediately.

I only weigh 108 pounds. Having me off my feet for 6months to heal from one hip surgery- that may or may not fix the situation- is risky. Add on another 6 months of healing for the chance of the left hip needing fixed immediately, and well.... let's just say, it isn't in the best interest of my actual health. Especially with the added bonus of a cardiac issue.

This is all going on, and then I broke a tooth. I've only got so many teeth left, you know?? So, I've been trying to come up with the funds to afford the dentures that I'm going to need here in about 3 weeks. I go see an oral surgeon next week for a consultation. The lowest price on my bottom denture is $700. That doesn't cover the teeth extraction. That doesn't cover anything but the denture.

I turned 44 on the 3rd. How the hell is this my 40s? Like... none of this is what I expected to be doing in my 40s. I found out that I've been lied to my entire life, gas lit and told that I was the healthiest person in my family. My parents used to brag about how few times I'd seen the doctor , because I didn't need to go, I didn't have anything wrong with me. Meanwhile, my bones were twisting under my skin, my skull had fused together too early and made no room for my brain. The entire time I was growing, I suffered.

And now... I wake up every day knowing there is no escape from the pain. I will live in pain every day for the rest of my life...

Somehow, it's comforting to know I wasn't imagining things when I was younger. I can't fix the situation...I can't figure out how to deal with the relationship I have with my parents. I don't know how to process any of what I have gone through in my life, and it's taken 44 years to be told the truth about the body I've been living in. I'm really proud of myself for having done all the things I've done in life...do you have any idea how much strength it had to take for my twisted frame to balance on stilletos all those years?!?!?!

Anyway. It's too much. I'm overwhelmed and exhausted and depressed and wildly detached from so many things. I'm trying to find a way back to some semblance of peace... I crave peace of mind more than anything.

#disabled #handicapped parking #permanent #health updates #chiari malformation #femoral antiversion #twisted bones #osteoarthritis #chronic pain #disability #this is my 40s #crisis mode #childhood #medical gaslighting #medical neglect

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paigenoelchas-blog · 1 year

Text

Feels Like Home

Part 22

TW: Contains mild sexual content. Do not read if you are under 18. Language.

Jake's POV:

I wake up still dreaming of her in my arms. I can't stop the smile from forming on my face. That may have been the best night of sleep in my life. Sleep has always eluded me. When Nana died, I stopped being able to let my brain rest. It was as though I was always waiting for something bad to happen and I couldn't let my guard down. That is until Mahri came into my life. Now I am at peace and can finally allow myself to relax.

It is a luxury.

The four years of hiding and the many years before that of being without a real family had taken a toll on me. With her in my arms, I no longer feel alone or afraid and I am able to rest and heal from wounds that I had long since locked away, wounds that I hadn't been able to deal with.

The last time that I had slept this well was when we fell asleep on the couch and before that, I can't even remember. The smile on my face is evident, well, it would be evident had there been someone to see it. She wasn't here. I feel around to see if she has just rolled over, but there is nothing.

Disappointed, I slowly open my eyes to find the shades drawn. It must be late.

I watch her try to sneak back into the room. We will have to work on her stealthy skills. Right now, she is far from sneaky. I smile as she almost trips over a shoe and curses under her breath. She looks up and sees me watching her, I am sure she notices the slight smile that has crept up on the corners of my mouth, and her face flushes. "Shoot. You are awake. I was going to sneak back in hoping that you would still be asleep. I was hoping to cuddle a little before we have to start our day, even though it is already 10:30." She whispers apologetically.

This is my favorite idea, starting the day with her, staying in late, and enjoying the feeling of her in my arms before anything outside of this room has to be dealt with. Someday, it will be the norm. I have to be patient. I will be patient.

"I am not yet awake, and I would never say no to a cuddle with you. I mean, that would be ridiculous." I say, opening only one eye to watch her and meaning every word.

She climbs back beside me, her arm sliding over my chest, her leg wrapped around mine. Heaven. This is what Heaven must feel like. I don't know what I think about the afterlife or the creator or fate or destiny, but I believe with my whole heart that her heart was made to be where mine dwells.

I wrap my arm around her tight, holding her close, and let out a deep sigh of contentment. We don't speak, we just feel the warmth of each other and drift off and on into that place where contentment dwells.

Then I feel a soft breath on my cheek and she kisses me.

I pull her closer until she is almost is on top of me, and her eyes lock onto mine. "I am not complaining," I begin, "but if you start this, it will be very hard to stop. I have been dreaming of you all night and I..."

She interrupts, "Shut up and kiss me, you nerd."

I smile at the nerd comment, I am a nerd proudly, but I haven't heard that term since middle school. I stop and look into her eyes. "Nerd, huh?" I ask as a smile again crosses my face.

"Yes. Are you going to kiss me or do I need to rescind my offer?" She asks.

I knew I wouldn't say no to her offer. I slow down as my smile turns serious. Her eyes have a glimmer in them as she stares at my lips and then meets me back in the eyes. She is above me and I am holding her tightly, her hips resting on mine. Our breathing has slowed to match each other and the only thing that I can think of is her. I have to watch how far I go with her. It is becoming very hard not to explore her to the fullest.

I move one hand from her hip to her head and pull her to lips toward mine. To say this started out with the gentlest of kisses would be misleading. Our lips touched ever so slightly, but the electricity that sparks between us is immediate. I don't know if it is the fact that all of our truths have been shared or the fact that we have been headed toward this moment for so long. It may simply be because she is who fate determined for me to be with. Whatever the cause, the electricity that isn't granted to most couples, exists in our world with the slightest of gestures.

The kisses start small, slight pecks on her lips, her cheeks, and her eyes. I roll her to the side of me so that my hands can touch her face, and run through her hair. We lay side by side staring into each other's eyes between kisses and I reach for her hand. Our fingers intertwine as one of her hands softly starts tracing patterns on my biceps. The soft swirls of her fingertips drive me mad and I deepen the kiss her lips are firm and soft, I ask permission to enter her mouth and when it is granted, I explore it passionately, our tongues dancing with each other. My hand moves to her side, I find a small spot of skin where her shirt has raised and begin mimicking the circles that she is drawing on my arm. Her hands begin to roam up and down my arm, leaving the memory of light touches behind as she moves. I hear a moan escape her lips as my touches increase which may be the most erotic sound that I have ever heard.

It spurs me to move deeper, from her lips to her neck. She moves her neck to the side allowing me more access. The taste of the warm. flesh there is richer and more delicious than the finest chocolate. I am careful not to leave a mark. I move my hand up a little more under the hem of her shirt that I just so happened to discover. The lines getting longer and the touch moving closer to her heart. The more I learn about her and the things she likes, the more I am encouraged to continue. Her hands move and I think she is about back up, but I feel her fingers begin to unbutton the pajama top that she gave me last night.

The second that she touches the exposed skin, I shudder. It is as if every nerve ending comes to life. It isn't as if I have never been with a woman, I haven't had a clean past, but I haven't ever been like this. With Mahri, I feel alive.

She removes her lips from mine and slips my arms out of my shirt, throwing it on the floor. Then she rolls me on to my back and straddles my legs. I am trying to catch my breath when she leans down and starts kissing my chest. My hand begins to move up her side, touching all of the skin that I can find. I stop when I reach the underside of her breast. She inhales, but does not stop ner mission to place kisses on every inch of my body. She grabs my hand and moves it to her breast, letting me know that I am free to explore that part of her as well. I grab her nipple, and twist it between my fingers. She is moaning now, I can't take it anymore.

Her kisses have not stopped, though I redirect them back to my mouth. There is an intimacy found there that I was missing.

She is beginning to get twitchy. I grab the hem of her shirt and lift it over her head. I pause and watch her, sitting above me, she has the most beautiful and amazing body. More than I could imagine. More than I did imagine when I was on the run and so, so lovely for human contact.

"Mahri," I speak, the first words in a while, "You are the most incredible looking woman, I love your body and the way that you feel..." she interrupts my words with her kiss and I flip her over so that she is underneath me. Her hair falls in soft curls around her face as I loom over her. I take abreath as I softly move some of the strands of hair that have fallen over her chest and I lean down to place kisses on her neck, and on her collarbone. I slowly move my mouth down into that sweet valley between her breasts. Her pulse quickens as my mouth closes in on one of her breasts and I begin to suck, eliciting some soft mews as I continue to explore her stiff peaks. Her hands greedily reach for me, scratching my back and pulling me close. I move to the other breast, giving it the same loving treatment. Her body is perfection, she tastes like every beautiful thing I could think of. I am sure that I could come up with a better analogy, but right now, my mind is a fog, enchanted by everything I am discovering about her. My leg moves between hers and she begins to settle in.

Things are getting serious and I should stop this. I don't know if I can. "Mahri," I say, pulling back ad looking into her eyes. "Should we stop? How are you feeling? Do you regret anything?"

"No regrets," she whispers, she is out of breath and her voice is husky, full of lust. Her lips are still searching for me. They land absently on whatever they can find. "I love you, Jake. I need you. Please don't stop."

That was enough for me. I returned in earnest to her breasts, my mouth on one and my hand greedily playing with the other. Her back begins to arch and I can tell she is on the verge. Her hand moves to the hem of my pants and she is loosening the string.

When the doorbell rings.

the FUCKING doorbell.

The FUCKING BULLSHIT doorbell.

Who doesn't call ahead? How were we going to get out of this without being embarrassed? Would this interruption be enough to force her to back off and run again? I think we are past that point, but, I could be wrong.

My head falls to her chest and I can see that she is as frustrated as I am, but she slides out from underneath me. "I am sorry, Jake. I have to answer the door. Stay right here, maybe I can get rid of whoever it is. Don't move. I would like to think that we are not done here." She slides on her top and heads out of the room.

I am left to wonder about her, about the speed at which we are moving, about the high I feel when she is in my arms the way that we have this morning. I hope that I didn't cross too many line I hope that she wants me as much as I want her. I hope...

Then I hear the voices. The first is Jessy and the lower voice is Dan.

I don't think I am ready for this and I don't want to stop what we had going. I need coffee and I need to find a way to calm down the situation that is happening in my lower half.

I decide a cold shower will help. Before I can get up and head into the shower, Mahri sneaks into the room.

"I tried, everything really, to get them to come back tonight, but Jessy says she can't wait to resolve this situation. I can't get them out of here. They know you are here and have promised to be on their best behavior. They brought breakfast and croissants and coffee. I am willing to bet that their coffee is not as good as yours. You can show off the machine while we talk." She says as if the lure of showing off the machine can compare to the feeling of her in my arms or the sight of her topless or the taste of her on my tongue. I don'tt want coffee or food, I want her and I am not afraid to pout a little bit.

I hop off of the bed and grab her around the waist, kissing her with all of the love I have, with all of the passion and the want in my body. I am doing nothing to ease the frustration of being interrupted. She kisses me back hard and long.

"Are you sure that I you can't change their mind?" I ask and she shakes her head. I grab her ass and pull her in close, "We could just make them wait, thirty minutes should be long enough."

"Mmmmm, " she whimpers, " I think I have more than thirty minutes in mind. I need you full attention. I want our first time to be something special, not a stolen moment while our friends can hear me scream your name."

"Oh, you are a screamer?" I didnt realize that excited me until this moment.

"Not usually," She replies, "but the things you were doing to me in there makes me believe that I will be with you." I smile. She continues and pokes me in the chest, "Stop gloating." She looks down at my pants and says, "Go take a cold shower, it looks like you need one, Don't take too long before you bring your fine ass out there. I don't want to face them alone." I head to the bathroom, and she calls me before I make it, "Jake," she says moving quickly across the room to whisper in that sultry voice of hers, the one that I can't get enough of, "The next time we are together, it will be my mission to make you scream my name."

Ohhh, she is going to be the death of me. The perfect most enjoyable death that anyone has ever known.

I can not wait until the next time, but she is right about one thing, The next time needs to be special and I have just the plan. I have to work out some wrinkles, but it will be worth it.

I blush and head to the shower. I hear her wicked laugh as she heads out the bedroom door. She loves getting me excited and I love it when she does it.

Mahri's POV:

Once outside, I take a deep breath.

Dan sits on a chair, his head between his hands and Jessy gives me another hug and begins handing out breakfast to me.

"Mahri, I am..." Dan begins.

"Save it, I am not talking to you until he is out here. That is how it is going to be." I say firmly.

I love Dan, but I have not forgiven him for his actions. Jake deserved none of it and if Dan can't get his act together and accept Jake, I won't be able to be with him as friends. I have very little tolerance left for people who can't care for Jake. He has experienced a lifetime of rejection and loss and doesn't deserve any more from me or from anyone close to me.

Jessy tried small talk and it worked for a while. Jek finally walked out and took my breath away. It wasn't as though he looked any different, his hair was slightly damp, and he had on his clothes from last night. Now, however, I could see the way that his arms flexed and flitted in a dimly lit room, how his eyes darkened when he looked at me in those secret moments, and how his skin felt under my fingertips. Now that there are no secrets between us and now that I know what it feels like to be so close to him, I feel free to be completely enamored with his body and his soul. I walk across the room and place a kiss on his cheek. He grabs my hand.

Studying Dan's face, I see him hold back a smirk. He has to ba able to control himself. I am still not sure if I can have Jake and Dan in my life.

Jessy hands Jake a cup of coffee and some breakfast. He gives her a friendly peck on the cheek.

"Thank you, Jessica," he says as he pulls up a chair at the kitchen table. I scoot next to him, placing my hand on his knee. Our eyes meet for a second, but I look away. This was not the time for that.

"Before anything begins," Jessy says, "Dan has something to say. Please give him the chance to speak, even though his sorry ass doesn't deserve it. Before he starts, I want you two to know that I am sorry for the events that took place and I hope that we can all be the best of friends."

"Jessica," Jake softens his voice as he speaks, "You have nothing to apologize for. I sincerely hope that our relationship will blossom." His formal voice returns alerting me that he is uncomfortable, but he is here, and I love him for that. His words are sweet and I have no reason to believe that they aren't genuine. Besides, who doesn't love Jessy?

"Go on, Dan. speak your words." I say forcefully.

"Jake, Mahri, "Dan begins, " I am, from the very bottom of my heart, sorry for being such an asshole that night. I had no right to behave the way I did. My only defense was my sincere concern for my friend, Mahri If you haven't noticed, I don't always make wise choices in bars and when I believe my friend to be treated poorly, I lose my shit." He has practiced this speech and had help writing it. I do believe he means the words.

"Jake, she had been here in the worst state that I have ever seen in the time you two weren't talking. She kept telling me that you weren't to blame, but all that I know of Mahri says that she can do no wrong, therefore, making me believe that the separation between you two had to have been your fault. I mean, why on Earth would you stay away from someone like her? I still don't know how you ended up with someone like her, she is..." Jessy coughs, bringing Dan back to himself before he says something that we will all regret. Jake has a slightly amused look on his face. "Sorry," Dan continues, "Then, I saw you in a bar with that beautiful girl and assumed that must have been the reason. I assumed that you would only be able to let Mahri go if there had been someone else in the picture. It was honestly the only thing my drunken mind could think of."

He pauses and looks at Jake, "Please accept my apology. I have missed Mahri and our friendship. Mahri, please know that everything that I did was because I wanted to protect you. I feel like you are my sister and you know that I am overprotective. And Jake, If Mahri thinks that you are worth a chance, then I would love to get to know you and have a friendship." Jessy was mouthing the words coming out of Jake's mouth, affirming my suspicion that she had helped him write it and practice. They are quite the team. Dan could never have articulated these thoughts, but he felt them.

I look at Jessy and then at Jake, Jessy's eyes are full of hope. Dan's regret is evident. I begin to speak, "Dan, I don't know if I can accept your apology. I tried to tell you that Jake had done nothing wrong. I tried to tell you to trust me, but you just couldn't accept Jake or trust my judgment. I care about you. I really do, but Jake is my life. You have to trust him and you have to trust me. You can't walk around like a big idiot gorilla acting on every impulse. If alcohol makes you behave that way perhaps you should back off your drinking for a bit." I feel my face soften, but I haven't heard from Jake yet. If he wasn't ready to forgive, I wasn't either.

Dan speaks next, "Mahri, I want you to know that I haven't had a drink since that day. I hope that you can forgive me so that I can prove to you that I trust you and that I can give Jake the chance that I should have given him from the start."

I look at Jake, he hasn't spoken yet. "What do you think, Jake?" I ask squeezing his leg. My hand has moved up to his thigh. He rests his hand on top of mine and I feel the connection that I had been missing.

He pauses, I can tell that he wants to get this right. I know that he is comfortable with me, but navigating strangers is a challenge.

"I forgive you, Dan, we all make mistakes. I actually appreciate your desire to protect Mahri. I know that she means a lot to you and that you and Jessica mean the world to her. I understand what it looked like and if you had been right about me, I would want nothing else than for you to protect her. I do have a favor to ask?"

Jake looks at Dan and Dan nods.

"If you do think I am doing something to hurt this wonderful, amazing woman, please talk to me before you try and kill me. If I am not around and someone messes with her, use your poor judgment and keep her safe. I trust her in your care." Jake finishes and I am so in awe of the man that he is. Once again he has surprised me with his kindness and generosity.

This is more than I could have expected or asked for.

Dan takes a deep breath and smiles, "I would like that, to take care of her, to be her big brother, and to be your friend as well, if you let me." Dan offers his hand.

Jake shakes his hand, " I must warn you. It has been a long time since I have been a friend. We may have to work together to find out what that looks like for us."

Dan nods and tells Jake, "I am not sure if you know what a friendship with me is like. But you shook my hand and that is a contract, my man. I speak my mind, and I act before I think. Jessy is trying to help me fix my flaws." He looks at her with adoring eyes and wraps his arm around her waist.

"We will find a way to sort this all out," Jake says. "I am brooding at times and take things too seriously. I, too, am working on that with the help of this wonderful woman."

I take a deep breath, thankful for Jake and the man that he is. I look at him with tears in my eyes and he beams at me. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and leans in for a kiss when Jessy runs up and hugs Jake around the neck. I see a smile, but I hear an ever so slight sigh of exasperation in his voice. "Thank you, Jake. I am so glad that we can all be good friends." Jessy goes from hugging Jake to me. She is almost giddy. I have missed that enthusiasm. "I can't wait for all of the times that we are going to have."

"Wait until you meet Betty, you are going to love her, she reminds me a bit of Dan actually, I mean, she isn;t a gorilla, but she says what she thinks and she loves hard," I say. Jessy is about to ask more when Jake says, "Jessica, would you like more coffee, I can't wait until you meet the espresso machine and have the best cup of coffee in your life." Jake interjects. Jessy looks excited and walks over to the machine and watches and chats while Jake brews Jessy a concoction filled with espresso, chocolate, and chai all over ice.

Jessy finds me and we discuss Betty and other things we have missed out on over the last couple of weeks.

Dan looks at Jake and they start talking, pretty soon, I see a smile cross both of their faces. Maybe we can all get along. Maybe I can have it all and be blissful in and out of my relationship with Jake.

Is it possible that I don't have to sacrifice anything to be happy in life and in love?

The hours fly by and we decide to watch a movie. Jake and Jessy pop the popcorn and Dan and I set up the living room, Jake and I hadn't picked up from the night before so we had a bit of a mess.

"So things are really good between the two of you then?" Dan asks.

"They are perfect, he really does treat me like a princess. With him, I am right where I belong, " I answer.

He grabs me and pulls me into a bear hug, "Good, you deserve all of the happiness the world can offer. What were you guys up to when we showed up anyway?" He winks at me. I have the feeling he knows the answer.

"Nothing," I say, "We we up to nothing."

"I knew it. I told her to call first." He laughs deep from his belly. We were going to be all right. This was going to be all right. I was glad that he was in my life again.

I punch him in that arm, "Shut up, but yeah, next time, call first." I wink. It is his turn to feel uncomfortable. he hangs his head and says, "Can I still make puking sounds when you two start making out in front of me?"

"I would expect nothing else from a little brother." I tease.

"I am your big brother, little lady, and have been given permission to assume that authority if need be." He jokes.

"I don't know what I think about the two of you conspiring, this collaboration is going to be..."

"Great." he interrupts. I know that he doesn't want to waste his second chance.

"It is." I nod as Jake and Jessy enter the room,

"What movie did you pick out?" Jessy asks.

"We were waiting on you guys, What do we want to watch? A comedy?" I am talking to no one in particular.

"One with lots of boring parts so we can make out?" Jake teases, pushing his luck in the mixed company.

I look at him with a twinkle in my eye. "Darling, that is for a later time." I watch his cheeks darken.

Jake laughs out loud and I watch as Dan tries to keep his comments to himself. I see his eyes roll in jest and giggle. Jessy and Dan share the couch, and I sit on Jake's lap in the armchair. We pick a Christmas comedy and settle in.

The movie starts and I lean over and whisper in Jake's ear. "Thanks for being the wonderful man that you are. I love you."

He responds in my ear, "I love you. Thanks for letting me be in your life. I don't know what I did to deserve it."

I kiss his cheek and he tightens his grip around my waist. I look at my friends at the very start of their relationship. Jessy's head rests on Dan's shoulder. It makes me happy to think of the two of them together.

For the moment, everything is perfect. I know that it can't always be this way, but tonight, I am going to rest in the happiness that I feel.

My head falls against Jake's shoulder and his fingers begin to play with my hair as I begin to watch the movie, reciting the lines that are so familiar to me. Jake's eyes stare at me and not the TV. His look is that of adoration. I meet his eyes and the world around us dissolves, that is until I hear Dan gripe, "Is this going to turn into a porno with you two because that is a whole deal that I am not prepared for... I am not saying that I am not into it, but I am going to need a lot of whiskey, which Jessy has forbidden me to drink for the moment."

I hear Jessy laugh and we can't help but join her all relishing the fact that we are together and at peace.

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