#my meds were interfering a bit last night

[imaginativeamateur]

Hey! Congrats on 200 followers! 🎊 you totally deserve it!! I was wondering if you could do a kakashi x fem!reader with 6 in which the reader is a med ninja and are overworking! THANK YOU!!!

[Kakashi Hatake X Reader] A Medic's Greatest Fear

|200 Followers Event|

Prompt: 6 — "You’re not coming home tonight?"

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x fem!Reader

Note: Hello, I'm back after quite a few days being so inactive :DD Thanks for your request, love. I legit spent so much time... changing the plot :DD This version is very different from the first one that I wrote lol. It's a bit angsty but ends with a fluff note, though. Hope you'll enjoy!

You have been busying yourself with operation after operation. You were not in a good mood recently after you got into a fight with Kakashi, and he then left for a mission. Time fleeted, and the next time you glanced at the clock, it was already eight in the evening. Just when you were packing up to leave the hospital at the end of your shift, a nurse rushed to your office with a bewildered expression on her face.

“Y/N-san,” she stopped to catch a breath, “there are three injured Shinobi.”

“ANBU?” You questioned, immediately dropping your tote to the desk.

“It’s… you should go see for yourself,” she stammered out. There was hesitation in her voice as she spoke, and you felt uneasiness seeping into the pit of your stomach.

You rushed to the reception and spotted a sight that you never wanted to see. Your heart throbbed as the hospital staff rolled a silver-haired onto a stretcher and pushed him into the operation unit. You lost the balance on your feet, if it was not for the nurse to help you stabilize your stance, you would have fallen onto the ground. There was only one person that you could recall having the very hair color in the whole Konoha—Kakashi Hatake.

“What happened?” Your voice was hoarse as you tumbled to the reception table.

“They were ambushed,” the staff stated with a monotone and started to register their information on the computer, “Hatake’s injuries, though, are more serious.”

“Who are on call right now?”

The woman at the desk took a glance at you, quietly signaling you to calm down before she continued to speak, “One surgeon and one assistant as for Hatake. Two Medics are tending the other three.”

Your stomach flipped, “I’m going in with them.”

You spared not even a second after you gave her a verbal note to follow their trail. You bit down on your lips hard enough to draw blood. Seeing your love edging on the thin line between life and death brought tears to your eyes. You greatly regretted the venomous words you exchanged with him before Kakashi left for his mission. You did not mean them to the slightest degree, you did not mean to tell him to stop interfering with your business, you did not mean to call him intrusive and that you hated him for being like that. The silver-haired stopped quarreling almost immediately after you lashed out and closed the door behind his back. You could clearly visualize the distress and sorrow wavering in his eyes when he left, so clearly that it stabbed you in the heart. If only you could go back to that very day…

For the whole duration of the operation, you focused every single cell of your body on the task, straining every muscle to perform meticulous work. But you did not dare to look up at his face. A cursory glance already enabled you to see how pale his skin was. The thin layer of sweat that coated his forehead shook you to the core that you had to instantly glance away. Kakashi was in pain, and you knew that better than anyone, being the person invading his system with your own chakra to heal the damaged organs. The wounds littered across his body were deep cuts, and you winced as your palms moved across his battered body.

At last, it was finally over and he was now bandaged in white cloth, sleeping soundly on the bed. Fearing that the stiff hospital bed would tire his back, you went ahead and took off your sweater and laid an extra layer for him to lie on, leaving you in your thin blouse. It was the end of autumn in Konoha and nights were cooler, but you paid no mind to the skin of your forearms prickling with goosebumps when you moved to close the window. All of your attention was now focused on the resting Shinobi, watching his chest rising and falling with every breath, his brows forming the slightest pinch in his sleep.

You drifted your gaze farther away, thinking of what to say once he would be up. Just then, you head Kakashi mumble, “You’re not coming home tonight?”

You quickly directed your eyes back to check on him, but the silver-haired was still snoring softly under the blanket—he worried about you even when he just merely got his life back from the hands of Hades. And it made you even more upset with yourself. You were totally at fault. He was only concerned about you and your health when you were working days straight without rest at the hospital. He respected your work but was more or less disagreed with how careless you were with your own wellbeing.

With great attention, you reached both hands out toward him and glided your fingers across his cheeks, blinking furiously to prevent tears from strolling down your face. You gently placed a kiss on the shallow crease between his brows as though you were trying to alleviate the pain that he was enduring, “I’m sorry, Kashi. I’m sorry.”

You laid your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as if it was an assurance that he was cradling you to bed like every night. Shuddering, you shifted closer to his body to shield yourself away from the blows that managed to seep through the crack between the door and the freezing tiles. Nights at the hospital were always cold with you drifting in and out of sleep in between calls to duty. But tonight was different when he was with you, you felt at peace.

The morning came and Kakashi was wide awake before the first rays even shone through the glass window. But he did not move a muscle, letting you splay your hands across his chest and hug him with all you might. A frown sat on his lips when he noticed the eyebags underneath your heavily closed lids. Your breathing was ragged as your lips opened and sealed several times, mouthing broken sobs of his name. Kakashi slightly shook your shoulders and you shot up from your position, eyes wide after pulling yourself out of the terrifying nightmare.

“Kakashi,” you burst out and jumped out of the wooden chair, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Kakashi!”

“I’m alright, Y/N,” he embraced you and swayed your bodies back and forth, “I’m here.”

After a while, you pulled away, timidly gazing at your hands like a child at fault, “I’m sorry for the stupid argument. I was wrong for saying such things. I promise not to overwork myself again.”

“I’m sorry too, love,” he stroked your hair, “I shouldn’t raise my voice at you. You know I love you, right? That’s why I didn’t want to see you harming yourself in the first place. It’s necessary to take a break when you’re tired. And just know that I’m always here for you.”

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

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @thenightfallingstar @iam-gaaras-loveintrest @animepickle7 @rinnegankakashi @tirzamisu

#kakashi x you #kakashi x y/n #kakashi hatake x you #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi x reader #hatake kakashi x you #hatake kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x y/n #kakashi hatake imagine #kakashi hatake #hatake kakashi #hatake kakashi x y/n #naruto x reader #naruto imagines

[liloelsagranger]

Night shift - finally a new Rocketshipping-fanfiction

My dear friends,

it’s been a while since I last posted an entry. Let me tell you why and what, besides Covid-19, made me pause from publishing fanfictions over the last couple of months. Of course, Switzerland was very affected by the pandemic and still is today. We had numerous lock-downs or as Swiss people call it “slow downs”. My mother got very sick last year, I almost lost her. The doctors said she would only live two or three more days, but my mom is a fighter. She had to stay at the hospital for months, she endured countless medical examinations, had to take meds and slowly learned to live again. I’m so proud of my mother that she was strong and determined to get better. When she turned back home, I started to take care of her and I hate to leave her on her own, even if we’re talking about half an hour or less. Right now, she’s doing quite good, actually, we’re on vacation and she makes a great effort to participate in life in Italy. She’s my role-model! She will never be the same as before, but she won’t give up, she wakes up every morning to make progress. I prayed for her and her well-being, I prayed every single night she might get another chance and now we’re here at the beach and dining in fancy restaurants. It’s been a horrible year for everyone, a year full of sorrow, tears and desperation, a year where I was constantly afraid, the hospital would call me with some bad news, but she did it! She survived and she fights for her life! So proud! Good news is: I passed my doctoral exams and I’m officially allowed to call myself Dr. phil. des. Melanie C. but that won’t ever stop me from loving Team Rocket so here it is - a brand new Rocketshipping-fanfiction for you guys. LOVE YOU! Night shift

Chapter 1:

It was past ten o’clock when that miserable looking guy entered the diner. He inconspicuously sat down in the farthest corner of the café and immediately hid his face behind the menu card. Nevertheless, Jessie the waitress could make out the pathetic expression on his face, how he was cowering like a whipped dog. She had seen quite a bit in this diner. Drunks, thugs, addicts and other needy people who asked for a sympathetic ear, compassion and understanding, but that guy was different. He suffered terribly, but did not dare to communicate, instead he hid from the world so as not to attract attention and quietly endure his fate. Jessie had to do something about it. Of course, she didn’t want to play the Good Samaritan. She knew the tricks of the men who entered this diner. Most of the time, they told the waitress tall tales, hoping to be comforted, whatever they meant by that. But this young man did not make a shady impressionHe was well dressed, looked well-groomed, and Jessie was especially struck by his bright emerald green eyes, the only thing in his face that had not yet been veiled by grief and sorrow. She decided to do something about his displeasure.

“Did you have a rough day?” she asked while disinfecting the table.

He looked briefly into her eyes and nodded. “That’s one way to put it,” he answered, the gaze immediately lowered again.

This would be a taciturn conversation, but Jessie didn’t give up easily, she was a natural at making even rocks talk.

“Listen! No matter what happened, I’ve seen or heard some things. If I can help you in any way, my name is Jessie and I’m in charge of this table today. Let me just get the gum out from under your seat and get you a cold drink. What would you like?” She pulled a spatula from her apron and rubbed away the remains of the spoiled brats that marred her diner.

‘Wow,’ the young man thought to himself. ‘A strong, self-confident woman who lends a hand herself and who’s not above cleaning up dirt.’ Their eyes met briefly, and he forced a wry smile.

“You know, kid. You can’t rely on anyone. If you want to get everything done, do it yourself and don’t trust anyone. This world doesn’t give you anything for granted!” She briefly wiped the back of his chair before disappearing behind the counter and pouring the young man an ice-cold Coke.

“I have rarely seen you so concerned about a customer. Normally you show yourself aloof and only take the order, so as not to get involved in embarrassing conversations. Must be a really great pike, this pathetic creature in the far corner. Could it be that you’ve got a tiny crush on this guy?” For Eddy, teasing his best friend was the greatest pleasure. He didn’t know her like that. Jessie usually resisted any kind of small talk. This was due to her dark past, when she had repeatedly fallen for advances from men who were never looking for a steady relationship, but for a quick fix. Eddy had witnessed this bad time of his friend, how her heart was broken, how she was badly played with, and how she was simply dropped like a hot potato. Jack was the worst example of them all. While Jessie was already hearing the wedding bells ringing, he was making love to the women of the Strip and deceiving Jessie night after night with other broads. Jessie was devastated when she found out Jack was cheating on her. She was furious, not even at her lying boyfriend, but at herself for having been so stupid as to trust a man.

Jessie gave Eddy a light pat on the head. “Don’t be silly! That time is over. I can take care of myself, I don’t need male support for that. I’m a big girl, I make my own dough, and I keep my head above water pretty well. No, not a chance, I’ve sworn off flirting.” Nevertheless, she caught herself as her gaze wandered to the young man in the corner. “Oh yes, this time is definitely over,” Eddy smirked.

“Jessie, could you bring us a side of fries, please?” Misty’s order echoed throughout the hall. The twenty-year old waved her hands. She was used to speaking loudly, almost shouting, to attract guests to her daily water Pokémon show. Sometimes she walked up and down the streets of the Strip all day in the blazing hot sun, trying to win people for her underwater attraction. As an excellent student, she could have taught at any college, but she had decided early on to get into show business and make her living doing what she really loved, joined by Dewgong and Starmie. Her parents had not agreed with this decision at all, it was wasted talent, they had claimed, and had summarily turned Misty out the door. Since then, she had been struggling through life on her own, but could always count on Jess, the diner and her two best friends, Ash and Brock, young people who were also not favoured by fate.

“Temper your voice, twerp!” Jessie couldn’t help but grin. She spread the ketchup bottles around the table, hoping Ash wouldn’t spill on himself and the diner again. His constant companion Pikachu immediately hopped on his shoulder, grabbed a fry and popped it in his mouth. Ash and his Pokémon were carnies. He had trained his friend well and attracted many spectators with his performance. Most of them felt sorry for the guy and tipped generously. That’s why Ash was able to invite his friends to the diner every night, a place that gave them hope where they could experience security. They were convinced that nothing would ever disturb this idyll and that fate, for better or worse, had taken its course.

“Who’s that guy over there?” Brock wanted to know. He had barely sold chocolate and roses tonight. The others held back, but they were certain that their friend was just too pushy with women and that’s why he only collected rejections instead of green bills.

“I’ve never seen him here before. Must be from another area. I can’t tell you for the life of me why he’s wearing a suit at theses temperatures, he looks pretty pathetic to me anyways,” Jessie replied.

“Maybe his car has stalled,” Ash suggested, “and now he was forced to wander through the desert until the tasty aromas from your diner brought him back from his delirium.”

“Or,” Brock interfered, “he had to flee his own wedding because his wife is a real pain in the ass, unlike our sweet Misty,” Brock oohed at his friend. “Forget it, Brock! You and me, this will never happen!” She gave him a gentle poke.

“Enough now with your naïve speculations! Just let him enjoy his drink. We’re closing soon, so get going,” Jessie dismissed their absurd ideas with a wave of her hand, but at this point no one knew how right Brock was.

Dark thoughts hunted the young man. He knew what he would face at home if he was late. Beatings, torture, rebuke, harassment, were just a few words to describe his failed relationship. Unconsciously, he stroked his scarred arms.

“Can I get you something to eat?” Jessie pulled him out of the maelstrom of bad thoughts, of course she had noticed the wounds, but maybe he had gotten those injuries at work. The young man rummaged some coins out of his pants and let them jingle on the table. “Is that enough for a cheese sandwich?” Jessie hated small change, but she would make an exception for him. A friendly smile, a quick nod, and she passed on the order.

“Something’s wrong with this guy,” she whispered to Eddy. “He’s scarred, bruised and pays with penny coins. Possibly a vagrant.” Eddy couldn’t help but grin. “That guy’s been keeping you busy all night, Jess. What’s the matter with you? Are you getting weak?”

The young man could not overhear the conversation between the waiters, but he was sure they were talking about him. He sure made a rather frightening impression, but that was a private matter and not something you shared with a waitress in a diner.

His gaze drifted to the daily paper, which had two faces emblazoned on it: Butch and Cassidy. He had never heard of this odd couple, but according to the news, theses two were causing quite a stir and were terrifying the Strip.

“Oh, so you’ve already spotted them, those two knuckleheads! They keep the Strip in suspense, and heads roll when the taxes don’t add up,” Jessie served him the cheese sandwich and gave him a slight smile.

“Can I get you anything else?” He thanked her and took a hearty bite of his dinner.

The last half hour flew by and the remaining guests left the diner to spend the night on the Strip, as very few had a roof over their heads. Jessie set about cleaning up and Eddy checked the register.

The young man stood up and made his way towards the door. But before he left the diner, he glanced back at Jessie for a moment. A sigh escaped him. What if…?

Jessie returned his gaze and watched him go until the young man disappeared. She walked right up to his table and found a little note on the receipt.

“Thanks for treating me like a human being, James.” 

#rocketshipping #rocketshipper #pokemon #teamrocket #james #james team rocket #jessie #jessie team rocket #rokettodan #pokemonfanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #new #update #musashi #kojiro #takeshi #brock #ash #satoshi #misty #eddy #story #newstory #lovestory #nightshift #love #relationship #lovely #cute

[bearstarseraphffxi]

Anxiety

Also available at https://archiveofourown.org/works/28257798

The blasts shaking the palace had servants and soldiers running, some even jumping out of windows.

General Nappa was grabbing people in the panicking horde.

“Have you seen Prince Vegeta?” “Have you seen Little Geta?” “Has anyone seen Prince Vegeta?!”

~~***~~

Prince Vegeta was ducking in and out of doors. Many adults had tried to grab him, but he forced himself out each time.

Vegeta turned into a servant’s hallway to cut through one of the kitchens. There was another boom and plaster from the ceiling dropped.

“It’s coming from the throne room,” he thought. “What is Papa doing?”

He had tried hiding Tarble from his father and succeeded for a month before he was captured. He knew the palace inside and out.

Vegeta jumped in the dumbwaiter.

~~***~~

Vegeta opened the door and found it blocked by a large block of stone. He quickly kicked it out of the way and climbed out.

The throne room was a pile of rubble. Vegeta’s eyes darted around the broken columns and shattered marble. He made his way towards his father’s throne as more stone tumbled and crashed. He went to cross the room when he discovered a feasting table full of food, now covered in dust.

“Can your miserable little brain comprehend why I’m so angry, Saiyan King?”

Vegeta saw his father on his hands and knees with a purple cat-like man stepping on his head.

“Forgive me because I promised to fulfill your mission in the time you gave me, Lord Beerus, but it took longer than I thought it would.”

“Wrong!” Beerus said.

“Father’s being humiliated. How can he take that?” he said softly.

“I consider myself a rather flexible deity. I know you mortals have your limitations but there is one thing I cannot tolerate. The callous arrogance of those who do not pay the respect a Destroyer is due.”

Beerus then shoved his head deep into the floor.

“I ordered you to find the most comfortable pillow in the universe and I know for a fact you obtained it. Your tenacity was impressive, although your methods a bit severe.”

The man pulled his father up by his hair. “I bet you don’t even know how many creatures you killed in that raid. Of course, being what I am I could have accepted all that if you’d actually given me the best pillow, instead of keeping it for yourself and try to fool me with the second best.”

He then began to beat King Vegeta.

“Papa!” Vegeta charged forward.

Beerus glanced over his shoulder and Vegeta felt a pulse go through him.

He instantly collapsed.

King Vegeta turned his head to look at his son on the ground.

Beerus dropped the king back on the ground and stood. “Well, that little stunt almost makes up for the utter waste of time this was. Whis, let’s go.”

“Yes, Lord Beerus,” Whis said walking towards him.

Then he stopped walking and looked down at the prince’s body.

“Oh!” Whis laughed into his palm. “Lord Beerus, you are so merciful. You surprise me.”

Beerus looked over his shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

“The little prince is still alive.”

Beerus spun around. “What?! That would have dropped Frieza. That’s impossible.”

He saw Vegeta begin to get his limbs under him.

“Are you trying to stand?!” Beerus stomped over as Vegeta got on his hands and knees. Beerus kicked him sending him flying.

Vegeta landed on the throne. It tilted backwards before coming to rest.

King Vegeta looked behind him. His son was still moving.

“Consider this my greatest mercy,” Beerus said.

King Vegeta turned back to him and saw Beerus raise his hand with his fingers touching his thumb.

“That you get to see your son die on the throne.” Beerus snapped his fingers.

King Vegeta spun around hearing his son scream.

The prince was almost bent in half backward. His legs were straight, arms twisted, wrists reared back and his fingers clawed the air. The screaming stopped but his body did not relax.

King Vegeta heard an explosion behind him. He looked and saw Beerus had blasted a hole in the ceiling to the outside. He turned his head and smirked as Whis cast his bubble and they vanished.

The king got off his knees and ran to his throne. Vegeta was stiff as a board, unseeing eyes wide with his tongue sticking out of blue lips.

King Vegeta cupped his son's face in his hands. “Gods no… Please no… Please…” Then his face hardened. “No. No gods. This is their fault.” He pulled his son’s face to his. “Listen to me Vegeta! You are stronger than this! You are the Saiyan of legend! Greater than every Saiyan to come before you! Greater than Frieza! Greater than all the damn gods! But you need to breathe! BREATHE! Fight it, Vegeta! Fight it! Don’t give up! Breathe! BREATHE! BREATHE! BREA—”

Vegeta’s head suddenly jerked as he gasped.

“Yes, Vegeta! Keep fighting! Keep breathing!”

Vegeta’s head jerked again in the opposite direction as he gasped again. The tips of his fingers started to twitch.

King Vegeta picked up his son. “You can do Vegeta! Keep at it! You can beat this!” He ran. “Keep breathing!”

 ~~***~~

King Vegeta sat in the elite hospital. After almost an hour, Prince Vegeta was still randomly twisting and jerking in the fluid. Suddenly, Vegeta unbent and went completely limp in the fluid. The doctors scrambled as the rhythm of the machines suddenly changed.

“What’s happening?!” King Vegeta demanded.

“Checking!” a doctor shouted.

King Vegeta watched his son hang in the liquid. He saw his son’s right hand weakly paw at the fluid.

“Sire!” the doctor turned around. He smiled. “He’s stabilizing.”

King Vegeta walked over and put his hand on the glass.

Prince Vegeta seemed to respond and tried but failed to lift his arm.

The beeping on one machine quickened.

“King Vegeta, please,” a doctor put his hand on his chest. “Please step back.”

He stepped out of the way and Vegeta’s arm lowered.

The beeping slowed.

“Ok… Ok, his heartbeat is stabilizing again.”

“King Vegeta,” the doctor asked again. “If you could wait in the side room. We’ll call you if there are any changes.”

King Vegeta took one last look at his son. “…Alright…”

~~***~~

After another half hour, there was an explosion. Then he heard Vegeta scream.

King Vegeta burst through the door just in time to get the remains of a doctor splashed across his face.

The room was destroyed, with one wall collapsed into the next med bay. Body parts covered the floor and equipment.

And his son was screaming, attacking everything that moved. Prince Vegeta lunged at his father.

King Vegeta struggled for his life against his son. The prince was born over twice his power level, and the gap had only grown. But he was crazed, wild like an Ozaru on a moonlit night.

The king got behind him and locked him in a bear hug. He could feel his leg bones cracking from his repeated kicking as he struggled to dodge the flailing headbutts. Suddenly, a doctor climbed the rubble and jammed a needle into the boy’s arm. After a few minutes, he stopped flailing and began to moan.

King Vegeta looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath and sighed.

~~***~~

The king stepped out of the medical shower stall and found new royal robes waiting for him on a table guarded by Nappa. King Vegeta relaxed at the sight of the one man he considered a confidant. They were raised together. Destined battle partners, the supreme general had become a second set of arms to his brain.

Publicly, the prince’s power was so overwhelming he would not be able to have a proper partner. In reality, the king had no intention of keeping the tradition. No one would share his son’s glory.

“How is he?” King Vegeta asked, dropping his towel. He reached for his clothes.

“Tranquilized.”

“How many did we lose?”

“Nine doctors. Five were technically employed by Lord Frieza… their commander has contacted him. Frieza has ordered the best doctors the PTO have to offer to take care of him and to keep him updated.”

King Vegeta facepalmed. “Perfect… so much for keeping this quiet…” He lowered his arm. “When will they arrive?”

“About 40 minutes.”

The king grabbed his clothes, “Then let’s get ready to greet them.”

~~***~~

“Oh! Lord Beerus, you are so merciful. You surprise me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The little prince is still alive.”

“What?! That would have dropped Frieza. That’s impossible.”

“So, this is the video our spy collected?” Frieza asked, glaring at the screen.

Zarbon bowed, “Yes sire. Straight from the security cameras of the throne room itself.”

“Consider this my greatest mercy… that you get to see your son die on the throne.”

Frieza listened to Vegeta scream. “So… you’re telling me a child survived two attempts by Lord Beerus?”

“Apparently, sire,” Zarbon said. “But our doctor’s review of the data suggests the strong possibility of brain damage. He said it is impossible that something he called a “status epilepticus” of that severity didn’t do something to his brain.”

Frieza moved his gaze from the screen down to a tablet. “Seems his heart has been struggling as well.” He scrolled through it. “His file also lists a near fatal dose of adrenalin and other hormones.”

“Lord Beerus sure picked an odd way to kill him,” Dodoria said.

Frieza smirked and handed an aide back the tablet. “Actually, it’s quite simple Dodoria,” he chuckled dismissively. “Fear. Lord Beerus tried to kill him with fear.”

Frieza looked back up at the video as King Vegeta was screaming at his son to breathe.

“This monkey survived two attacks that would have killed me,” he thought. “Either Lord Beerus underestimated my power,” he glared at screen. “Or this child will be trouble.”

“Make a public announcement that Vegeta has caught an unknown virus from clearing a primitive world, and is in isolation and receiving the best care we have to offer. That planet will be destroyed as a safety measure, as this is clearly dangerous to sicken Saiyans, who have the best immune system in the galaxy.”

~~***~~

A few months later…

King Vegeta stormed into the care team’s office.

“You’ve been tranquilizing my son at night! Why?! Why wasn’t I told?!”

A reptilian doctor turned to confront him. ��Because you have been interfering with your son’s treatment time and again, so I went over your head! It’s because of you his healing has stagnated!”

“My son does not need tranquilizers!”

“He’s barely slept in five months! Whatever mask he has been wearing to stroke your ego evaporates when he sleeps!”

“My son is fine! He has never been stronger and more ruthless! What happened to him was a blessing in disguise.”

“The prince’s brain chemistry has never recovered! If anything, it’s more unbalanced than before. He’s overcompensating trying to hide his symptoms. And you and your people’s view towards emotions are only making things worse!”

“Saiyan elite do not feel emotions! We are not weak! Watch your words defaming the Saiyan Prince!”

“Your son has brain damage! And his brain chemistry shows he’s in constant anxiety and fear.” He waved the tablet in his hand. “You can’t argue with science! The stress of  the shame you are forcing on him is only exacerbating the problem! If you ever want your son to actually heal, you need to relieve that stress before his brain completely scars over! If you don’t, you might as well toss him in the trash like your last child and find a new wife! Isn’t there a law about a couple producing two defective children? Because fuck it, my child should be able to survive two murder attempts by the fucking God of Destruction without a scratch!”

The king grabbed him by the arm and threw him out of the room. “Get off my planet! All of you! Off! Off! Off!”

King Vegeta chased the entire group into the hallway. “Out! Out! Out! Out!”

“King Vegeta!”

“What?!” he spun around and saw Nappa. He relaxed. “What is it?” he said calmly.

Nappa only extended a piece of paper.

King Vegeta thought he felt his heart stop in his chest as he read it.

“KING VEGETA 3,

IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT I HAVE BROKEN MULTIPLE SACRED LAWS OF HONOR. COMPLETE FAILURE CAN ONLY BE DEALT WITH BY DEATH OR EXILE. I SURRENDER ALL TITLE AND HONOR AND GO INTO EXILE BY MY OWN POWER.

LONG LIVE THE KING AND HIS UNBORN HEIR.”

“How many have seen this?”

“Just me,” Nappa answered.

King Vegeta burned it to ash with his energy.

Nappa stood at attention. “Orders, sire?”

King Vegeta formed his fist as the ash fell from his hand. “We find him and bring him back.”

~~***~~

A few weeks later, the two men landed in the middle of a blizzard.

“Holy fucking shit,” Nappa said jumping up and down and rubbing his arms. “It’s fucking cold.”

“I told you the signal was in the northern latitudes,” King Vegeta said, dressed in royal furs.

“But this planet is listed as tropical!”

“Low priority worlds are only surveyed every few million years. And this planet had obvious markings of recent glaciation even then, if you read the description.”

“What type of fucking planet swings from tropical to glaciers every few million years?!”

King Vegeta touched his scouter, then pulled it away from his ear.

“Damn it,” he began to play with the settings. “A local transmission is messing with the scouter communication link.”

Nappa turned his scouter on. “Oh, music… Catchy. Flees Navy Dad. Flees Navy Dad. Something anus Flees knee dad.”

“Nappa… Just stop…”

“You sure? The lyrics just switched to partial Uni.”

King Vegeta put the scouter back on. The numbers began to roll across the eyepiece. “Yes… I’m positive.” He looked left after its final beep. “There he his.”

They made their way through the blowing snow and discovered a small dwelling with smoke coming from a chimney.

“Scouter says only one person in there,” Nappa said.

“He better have killed the previous occupant, at least,” King Vegeta growled.

~~***~~

King Vegeta kicked down the fragile plant-derivative door. “Vegeta the Fourth!”

He saw a small form scurry on an upper platform.

King Vegeta grabbed his son and held him off the floor. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING HERE?!” he shouted millimeters from his face.

The king then saw something he never thought was possible. His son started to whimper and cry.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” King Vegeta wound him up and threw him through the wall, causing the structure to partially collapse.

“Vegeta, what the hell?” Nappa shouted, digging himself out as it caught fire. He followed the path of broken trees and discovered King Vegeta on the ground clutching his stomach.

“Did you really think screaming at a kid that was strong enough to kill you as a newborn was a good idea?”

King Vegeta coughed as he struggled to sit up, “He’s -cough- never acted this way before.”

Nappa crouched down. “As if these past 6 months have been anything but normal. Here, let ol’ Uncle Nappa work his charms. Kids love me.”

“Fine…”

Nappa stood and flew off.

Vegeta laid on his back. “It’s because you’re such a freaking moron. You’re just a bad joke without me…”

~~***~~

Nappa followed his scouter and it led him to one of the many trees with needle leaves, its bottom buried in snow. He stood next to the tree.

“Hey Vegeta!” Nappa shouted. “Where are you?!” “Oh…” he said loudly. “I hope the little prince is all right. I’m REALLY SCARED something bad happened to him.”

The tree shivered, knocking snow from it. Nappa turned his back knowing Prince Vegeta was peeking through the branches. “The king was SO TERRIFIED when little Geta got sick. I never saw him SO SCARED. He even CARRIED and HELD him IN HIS ARMS. He could have CAUGHT IT TOO, but HE DIDN’T CARE. All he cared about was his SON OVER HIS DUTY and HONOR.”

“Nappa…” he heard a soft voice behind him. “Is that true?”

Nappa looked over his shoulder, “Of course. You should know better than anyone I’m a terrible liar.”

The tree shook again.

“Come in,” he heard louder.

Nappa circled the tree and a hole had been dug in the snow bank. He crawled through and found the prince had cut down the branches to make a cave. Even then, it was a tight fit for the giant.

“Wow, it’s actually warm in here. Nice job, my prince.”

He smiled at him and the child’s face hardened into a miniature of his father’s scowl.

“I order you to tell me the truth,” he said. “Tell me everything.”

“Vegeta, even elite Saiyans feel fear. It’s rare, but it’s true. Our strength means very little challenges us, but,” he leaned in, “We are not Super Saiyans. There are races stronger than us.”

“But that’s temporary!” Vegeta protested. “Saiyans grow and evolve! We will surpass all and rule the galaxy!”

“That’s very true,” Nappa said. “But we are not there yet. Vegeta listen, the sickness you got is very rare and very deadly. In fact, you are the only known survivor in millions of years. It even wrecked your body so badly you even got a huge zenkai. Your power nearly doubled.” Nappa held his finger in front of his face, “That is how close you came to dying. And you are actually still in recovery.”

Vegeta looked up at him, shocked.

Nappa nodded, “I’ve overheard your father screaming at the doctors constantly. They say you’re still in recovery, but your father hasn’t taken them seriously.” Nappa tapped his head, “Because it’s in here. The fever left you wild and uncontrolled like a third-class Ozaru; you were sedated for weeks. Then you were confused which left you crying and screaming, so your father drugged you again.”

Vegeta began to tremble. “Is father going to sedate me again?” he asked, burying his face in his knees. “So I can’t move?”

“Wait, you remember that?” Napa asked, shocked.

Vegeta nodded.

“Your brain scans said you were completely unconscious.”

Vegeta lifted his head. “Well, I wasn’t!” he shouted before burying his face again. “It was no different than looking at the moon, but I couldn’t get my body to obey me.”

Nappa’s eyes widened. “You don’t just remember your nights, but can control your form?”

Vegeta nodded.

Nappa looked forward. “Well, fuck…”

“But it was harder last time, I almost blacked out transforming. I… I was afraid. I was afraid of myself. And I almost lost my grip. I don’t think I was fully in control. I couldn’t play.”

“You shouldn’t waste time on the battlefield,” Nappa scolded.

“I just like practicing making noises. I want to be able to talk.”

“But why?”

“I… think it would be scarier… if I could talk. Ozarus are supposed to be mindless beasts. What if during battle one actually talked and fought intelligently? An Ozaru can still be wounded because it’s nothing but an animal, and can be outsmarted like any animal by a skilled hunter.” Vegeta peeked above his knees and Nappa saw his signature smirk. “I want to turn the hunters into the hunted and watch their faces when they realize everything they planned was useless. How powerless they are.”

Vegeta buried his face again, “But now I’m the powerless one…” He started to shake. “Please just go. Father can do so much better than me. I’m broken now. I’m scared,” his voice cracked, “I’m always scared. I’m scared of everything!”

“Vegeta, you’re young. You’re barely four years old. You have a century of battle ahead of you. This will heal. It will get better. Let’s go home and talk with your doctors. Figure out how to make this heal. But that can’t happen if you keep lying that everything is alright.”

“But what about Papa?”

“You mean the man you left rolling in the snow after a single punch?” Nappa held his palm out, “Vegeta, you’re now the strongest Saiyan in modern times.” He formed his fist. “You can take anything you want. Even the throne, if you wanted.”

“But no one will follow a weak king. I feel fear. What if my guards strike me while asleep?”

“Wow… you’ve really thought this through, huh?”

“Papa told me what guards are for…” he answered. “But what’s stopping them from turning?”

“Wow… you are so paranoid right now.” Nappa shifted. “Vegeta… I don’t know if I’m saying this right… but… Stop being afraid of your own fear. …A warrior can still dominate the battlefield without an eye or even an arm. The only thing stopping a warrior from doing that is their fear of that injury and being unable to see past it because of that fear. These emotions you can’t control at the moment are from a head injury. But even if it leaves a scar that never fully goes away, you can embrace it and alter yourself around it to make yourself a better warrior.” He patted Vegeta on the back, “But hey!” he chuckled, “If you have the patience and determination to conquer the impossible feat of becoming a talking Ozaru, then you can become the strongest Super Saiyan that’s ever lived, even if you feel a little bit of fear inside.”

Nappa put his arm down. “And you’re already well on your way. You really blindsided your father and I with that letter, which was burnt to ash before anyone else saw it. No one knows you abdicated. All this can be forgotten.”

Vegeta’s voice cracked again, “I just didn’t want to disappoint Papa. I thought everything would get better if I toughed it out, but it never did.”

“Which is why you need to be honest with the doctors now. If your head isn’t healing on its own, you are going to need help fixing it. Which is why we need to go back and tell the doctors everything you just told me, my prince.”

Vegeta nodded.

Nappa leaned in smiling, “Does that mean you’re ready to go home and get fixed up?”

Vegeta nodded.

Nappa stood up breaking the tree into splinters. “All right! Let’s get moving!”

Vegeta looked out over the snow bank. “Papa?”

Nappa turned around and saw the king.

“So… how long have you been there?” Nappa asked nervously.

“Long enough,” he answered. King Vegeta walked over and stared down into the hole in the snow.

Prince Vegeta squared his shoulders and looked up at him at attention. “I will agree to return to take my place as heir.” He then pointed at his father. “On the condition you no longer interfere with my recovery so I may become the heir required of a Saiyan Prince!”  

King Vegeta looked down at his son’s hardened, determined face.

“Agreed.”

~~***~~

King Vegeta unburied his son’s pod, programmed some coordinates, then sent him off.

“Man, I can’t wait to get back home and get warmed up,” Nappa said.

“Oh, we’re not going home just yet,” King Vegeta smirked and he began programming Nappa’s ship.

“What? Why?”

“We need an excuse for being missing these few months. There’s a desert planet nearby with a breathable atmosphere. The story will be we took Prince Vegeta for special training in a place where there could be no collateral damage.”

He stood up and put his hand on Nappa’s shoulder. “And I think for the crime of plotting a coup with my child,” he gave a sickly smile, “spending a couple days in a healing pod upon our return is quite merciful.”

Nappa chuckled awkwardly.

~~***~~

A month earlier…

Frieza smiled down at his tablet. “So this is the final composite rendering of that note King Vegeta burned?”

“Yes, sire,” a technician bowed. “We used every camera angle that caught a glimpse of the paper.”

“Thank you, you may leave.”

After the door closed, Frieza began laughing.

“Sire?” Zarbon asked nervously, “May I ask what you find so funny?”

Frieza passed him the tablet to him and Dodoria looked over his shoulder.

“Prince Vegeta has abdicated his throne?!” Dodoria exclaimed.

Frieza continued to laugh, “Poor little Vegeta is so tormented with anxiety and fear he’s run away from home! Oh! What lovely blackmail for when the king brings him back!”

~~***~~

A couple weeks later, the three ships land back on Planet Vegeta. Prince Vegeta ran to the crews before the door even fully opened. “Help!”

The crew stopped, shocked at the mangled state of his clothes and armor.

“Prince Vegeta? What’s happened?”

“I hit Papa too hard! We were training,” he dropped to his knees. “I hit Papa too hard.”

“Hey! General Nappa needs attention too!” the crew that recovered his pod shouted.

A Saiyan knelt down to the crying child. “Don’t worry my prince, I promise the king will be fine.”

Vegeta followed the medical teams into the elite hospital at the palace. He grabbed onto the coat of a passing staff.

He looked down, “Yes, Prince Vegeta?”

“Can I please see my doctors?” Vegeta asked softly.

He nodded, “Yes. Of course. Let me tell them.” He hurried off.

~~***~~

Vegeta waited on a bench swinging his feet in the air.

The lizard doctor walked quickly down the hall. “Young prince. It is good to see you again. If you could follow me into an empty room, we can go over your father’s and the general’s conditions.”

Vegeta followed him into an exam room. He climbed on the table as the doctor opened his tablet.

“You will be happy to hear that they will both make a full recovery,” he said sitting down on a spinning stool. “They won’t need more than three hours in the chamber, then they will be good as new.”

“Actually, doctor,” Vegeta looked up at him with a stern face. “I want to talk about me.”

“Oh… I see. What is it you want to talk about?”

“General Nappa has told me I am actually still in recovery, but my father has been ignoring your advice on my treatment.”

“…Yes…” he hesitated. “That is the case.”

“General Nappa has convinced my father to no longer interfere. You can confirm once they wake up.”

The doctor gave a sigh of relief, “That is good to hear. Lord Frieza was growing quite impatient with the stall of your recovery. Now we can finally work. And I promise we will heal you.”

“General Nappa compared my…” Vegeta hesitated. “my… my… my fear…” he stuttered. “To a warrior losing an eye. And I need to adapt as a warrior and overcome. But to do that, I need to tell you everything.”

The doctor smiled, “The fact you were able to say the word fear is a great start, Prince Vegeta. And I promise that word will never leave my team. I know how hard that word is for a Saiyan to say. But if it is easier, the special type of fear you have is called anxiety.”

“An-xi-ety,” Vegeta said slowly. “I will need to ask my father who I am allowed to say that word around.”

The doctor nodded. “So, what else did you want to tell me?”

“The machines lied to you. I was awake the whole time I was sedated. I just could not move.”

“What?!” the doctor stood. “How?!”

“It felt no different than being an Ozaru, that’s why.”

“Wait, I thought Saiyans were unconscious during the transformation?”

“Almost everyone is, and only a handful remember anything, like Papa. But I not only remember. I am in full control. I’ve even been working on trying to learn to speak if we finish before the moon sets.”

The doctor set down with a plop. “That… that is incredible. I don’t even know where to begin. Would you be willing to undergo testing in that state? The change in brainwaves would go far in understanding what’s going on in your brain.”

Vegeta nodded. “I’ve been having trouble the past couple months. It’s safer to confirm I’m awake before weaklings like you approach me.”

“Yes. Yes.” he nodded looking at his tablet. “Oh, I’m writing this in the wrong file. Darn it, give me a moment, Prince Vegeta, before we continue.”

Prince Vegeta chuckled as the frantic doctor swiped and poked his screen.

~~***~~

That night, Vegeta was sitting up in his bed drinking a small glass of water.

“Did your pill go down smoothly?” the nurse asked.

Vegeta held up the empty glass, “Yes.”

The nurse took it.

“If everyone is finished,” King Vegeta said, “I would like a moment alone with my son.”

Everyone bowed, and the nurse and guards exited the room.

After the door closed, King Vegeta sighed. Then he looked down sternly at his son.

“Papa?” he asked nervously.

“I’m told you gave quite the performance when we landed. Why? You knew our injuries.”

“You destroyed your honor when you carried and held me when I was sick. Now we are even in the public mind.”

“I see. Politically astute for a small child. You have a sharp mind.” He took a deep breath.

“I’m told you can fully control your Ozaru… and have been practicing speaking?”

“Yes, Papa,” he nodded.

King Vegeta smiled. “Prince Vegeta the Fourth,” he paused. “I am in awe of you. I am proud, that you are my son.”

Vegeta’s jaw dropped as he gave a tiny gasp.

King Vegeta chuckled. Then he put his hand on top of his son’s head. “And since this is private, don’t feel the need to even the playing field. I already know.”

“Yes, Papa,” Vegeta said softly.

King Vegeta turned and walked away. He opened the door to discover Nappa with a cup.

King Vegeta bristled. “Nappa!”

“Worth it!” Nappa shouted as he ran away.

Prince Vegeta laughed as his father quickly disappeared from view.

~~***~~

One year later…

“Sire,” Zarbon bowed. “Prince Vegeta’s quarterly medical report has just finished being reviewed by your private physician and is ready to present.”

“Show him in,” Frieza said, not turning his back.

The doctor entered. “Sire,” he bowed.

“So, how is our dear little monkey doing?”

He pulled out his tablet and synced it to the screen. “Quite well. The prince has seen rapid improvement since the start of his specialized cognitive therapy after his Ozaru study.” He scrolled to a new page. “But there does seem to be permanent damage that will most likely leave him emotionally unstable the rest of his life. He’s currently on a mild antidepressant that was specially developed for him to overcome Saiyan livers.”

“What do you mean unstable?”

“Well, he is still exhibiting behaviors not seen in Saiyans, like showing unusually strong emotional attachments and being quite clinging to his father in particular. This neurodivergence seems to be permanent and will most likely cause continuing issues functioning in Saiyan society.”

“So, he has a soft underbelly,” Frieza said. “What are his improvements?”

“He is now able to enter the throne room without experiencing distress. He is now cleaning and organizing to the same extent he was prior, according to staff, but the doctors feel it is quite excessive and may be a sign of preexisting control issues or OCD. His nightmares are still present, but he is no longer experiencing waking terrors. He hasn’t wet his bed in 47 days of this report. His sleeping tranquilizers have been discontinued accordingly.”

“What is this section on his power level?” Frieza asked, reading the screen.

“Apparently the nursing staff informally used a sudden drop in power level to predict an oncoming panic attack or other sudden issues, and reviewing records they discovered a steady depressive state of between 10 to 15% that only began correcting recently. His precision and speed have picked back up in training but his awareness of his surroundings has dropped, but that can be interpreted as a drop in anxiety and the resulting hypervigilance.”

“So, what you’re saying is that under stress Prince Vegeta’s power drops and his fighting ability suffers?”

“Um, yes. Fear and anxiety causing a drop of energy is quite common in other species but this is the first time it has been documented in a Saiyan.”

“I see,” Frieza said. “You may go now. I’ll read the rest of the report on my own time.”

“Yes, sire,” he said surprised. He bowed and left the room.

Frieza smiled.

“May I ask what you are thinking, sire?” Zarbon asked.

“I’m thinking I may have a use for the little monkey after all.” He turned his floating chair around, “Dodoria, call ahead and tell King Vegeta I’ve decided to bring his son into the main army, but this is not the announcement I have ordered his people to gather for. Tell him not to worry for his health. Any continuing treatment will be handled by my own private physicians and he will be in constant communication. I will pick him up personally after my official visit, so have him ready to depart.”

“Sire, won’t that complicate matters?”

“Did I give you permission to question my orders?”

“No, Sire! Right away, sire!”

“Zarbon,” Frieza said as Dodoria ran from the room. “I want you to remove mentions of his medication from Prince Vegeta’s medical file. The doctors and chemists will take care of themselves. And also,” he smiled. “Make sure the men know they will have free reign with young Vegeta. As long as they do not hurt him. We can’t have him getting stronger, can we?”

“Yes, sire,” Zarbon bowed while Frieza laughed.

~~***~~

On planet Vegeta, the King was reading the decoded message in the radio room.

“Your Majesty,” a guard said. “You’re not going to let him take the prince, will you?”

King Vegeta crumpled the paper in his hand. “No. Of course not.”

~~***~~

…

It was almost two weeks since Bulma’s birthday, and her shoulders and back were sore. She had been going to bed early to avoid the coming conversation, but tonight was not to be.

She opened her bedroom door, only to discover Vegeta already sitting on the side of the bed. He was slumped over with his elbows on his knees. He gripped the first three fingers in his left hand so hard his knuckles were white. It was rare for him to use this technique because it was so obvious. Physical pain helped clear his head when everything else failed, but this meant something was wrong even the GR couldn’t handle.

“You’ve been going to bed and waking up early,” Vegeta said.

Bulma put her hand behind her head, “Well, after our cruise so much work built up so—”

Vegeta lifted his head slightly and side-eyed her. “Don’t lie to me woman,” he hissed. “I know I injured you.”

Bulma sighed and sat next to him on the bed. She put her hand across his back and held his wrist with the other. “Don’t worry about it,” she said leaning into his ear. “It hurts no worse than going to the chiropractor. I don’t even have a mark.” She ran her hand up and down his lower arm. “Are you ready to talk or was this just about me?”

Vegeta let go of his fingers, and Bulma knew he’d be wearing his gloves the next few days to hide the bruise forming.

“You know…” he began breathing hard, “after that allergic reaction… How the therapist thought the holes in my memory were most likely from a traumatic event even I couldn’t handle, based on some random medication the doctors found in the medical files we got from the dragon?”

Bulma tightened her hug, already knowing the answer.

“The time you met Lord Beerus he mentioned?”

Vegeta began shivering, just like he had been doing every night since her birthday.

“Don’t force yourself, just tell me when you’re ready.”

“Promise me you’ll never attack Beerus again,” he said breathlessly, “and I’ll do it now.”

#Dragon Ball Z #Dragon Ball Super #fanfiction #prince vegeta #vegeta #king vegeta #nappa #frieza #beerus #whis #Bulma #bulma briefs #vegeta x bulma

[flowerfan2]

Context Is Everything

Part 3 of the Group Texts Are Forever series

McDanno, T, A03

Summary:  After Steve is injured during his walkabout, Danny shows up in Seattle and for a moment, it seems like the boys are going to get their fairy tale ending, complete with a magical kiss.  But nothing is ever quite that easy.  Featuring Kono POV as well as Danny POV.                 

Chapter 1

August, 2020

CK:  Hey Danny, how’s it going?

DW:  Chin, did you finally join our group text?  Beware, my friend, it’s wild.

CK:  No, it’s just you and me, brah.

DW:  Can’t believe you said brah in a text.

CK:  You can take the boy out of Hawaii, but you can’t take Hawaii out of the boy.

DW:  If you say so.  You know you guys should visit more often.

CK:  Since you mention visiting, I wanted to see if you and Steve needed a place to stay after he gets out of the hospital.  Abby and I would love to have you.

DW:  Thanks, Chin.  Not sure of the plans, yet.  

CK:  How soon will they let Steve fly?  You guys just going straight back to Oahu?

DW:  I really don’t know.

CK:  Ok, well, keep me posted.  And give Steve a kiss for me.

CK:  Danny?

CK:  Sorry, did I overstep?  Kono implied it was common knowledge that you guys were together.  And I couldn’t be happier for you, to be clear.  You’re meant for each other.  In the best way.

DW:  You’re fine, Chin.  But I gotta go.  Sleeping beauty’s waking up, and he’s cranky.

 ****

 CK:  Cuz, you there?

 KK:  Howzit, Chin.  What’s up?

 CK:  Just wanted the update on Steve and Danny.

 KK:  Steve’s on the mend.  They’re keeping him for observation for another day or two.  And he might need another procedure on his eye.

 CK:  How’s Danny?

 KK:  Tired of the crappy food at the hospital, but okay I guess.

 CK:  I’m afraid I upset him.

 KK:  You?  How is that even possible?

 CK:  I told him to give Steve a kiss from me.  

 KK:  Oh.

 CK:  You told me they were together, Kono.  That everyone knew.  What’s going on?

 KK:  I’m not sure.  Steve’s had a rough few days.  I’ll talk to Danny.

 CK:  Let me know if I can help, ok?

 KK:  Always.

 *****

Kono meets Danny in the hospital cafeteria.  His face lights up when he sees that she’s brought a bag from a nearby café that’s known for its excellent coffee – although that’s not hard to find in Seattle.

 “Kono, you’re the absolute best,” Danny says with enthusiasm, taking the cup from her and sucking down a long sip of the iced vanilla latte.  Danny has always had a sweet tooth, whether he denies it or not.

 “There’s some food in there, too. Some kind of strawberry rhubarb thing I thought you’d like.”

 Danny wastes no time pulling the pastry out of the bag and taking a bite.  “Delicious.”  He sighs, leaning back in the stiff plastic chair.  “Honestly, Kono, thank you.”

 Kono doesn’t really think that coffee store pastries deserve quite this level of gratitude, but she gives Danny a quick hug around the shoulders anyway.  “You’re welcome, Danny.  How’s our patient doing today?”

 Danny shrugs.  “Kind of loopy.  He had trouble sleeping, so they gave him something to help, and it’s hasn’t really worn off yet.”

 Kono grins.  “Amusing?”

 “Unfortunately not.”

 Kono feels the grin slide off her face, and she waits for Danny to go on.

 “It’s not a big deal,” Danny says.

 If it wasn’t a big deal, Danny wouldn’t look so miserable, Kono thinks.  “It might help to talk about it,” she says softly.

 “I just…”  Danny taps his fingers against his thigh.  “I’m not sure I should have come.  I didn’t ask or anything.  He left on purpose.  What if he doesn’t want me here?”

 “Danny, why on earth would you think that?”

 “I dunno.”  Danny stands, abruptly, and sucks down the last bit of his iced coffee.  He’s clearly done talking for now.  “I should go back up.”

 “Want me to come with?”

 “No, I’m fine.”  Danny takes a step away from the table to toss his empty cup in the trash, then turns back to Kono and wraps her in a tight hug. “Thanks for being here,” he whispers into her ear, and Kono squeezes him back.

 “You’ll come back to my place tonight,” she says when they part, her hand still on Danny’s arm.  It’s not really a question.  Danny’s been at the hospital nonstop, and it would drain even the most determined of them.  “I’ll pick you up around seven?”

 “Yeah, okay.”  Danny gives her a small smile, and heads off towards the elevators.

 Damn it, Kono thinks.  Chin was right (he’s always right).  All is <i>not</i> well with Steve and Danny.

 *****

 Kono looks out through the kitchen window at Danny sitting on her back porch, the now familiar mountain view framing the sight.  Her little house is less than an hour away from Seattle’s bustle, but remote enough for some much-needed space at the end of a long day.  She wonders if Danny is feeling how different this place is from Honolulu.  For that matter, it’s a far cry from New Jersey, too.

 Kono liked it, at first, how the pine covered mountains were so clearly a world apart from palm trees and tropical shores.  She needed a change.  And when the novelty wore off, she had her work, which kept her engaged (some would say, she knows, obsessed) in a way she had never been before.

 It’s still her passion, this work, and she’s grateful for it.  She wonders if it will wear thin at some point, when the pain of the losses becomes too much to bear, even if she can help save others in the process.  It doesn’t seem like she’s putting much of a dent in the tragedy of sex trafficking, but at least for right now, she’s going to keep doing what she can.

 She’s not really sure what’s up with Steve, why he’s left the island and his ohana.  She can’t tell if he has simply grown bored with his job, or if there’s more to it.  She suspects the latter, and the sad detective on her back porch strongly supports her theory.

 For all that Steve looks banged up, Danny looks like he’s been through the wringer too.  She could swear he’s aged significantly more than the actual number of years since she’s seen him, the lines around his face deeper, his short hair hardly hanging on to any remnant of blond.  She knows Danny was injured back in the spring, just before Steve left Oahu, but that doesn’t seem to be what’s weighing him down.

 Kono grabs a quilt from the back of her couch and goes out to join Danny.  Danny’s sitting on a wooden swing, leaning over with his head in his hands. He looks up as she approaches.

 “Hey, Kono.”

 Kono sits next to him and drapes the quilt around them both.  It’s chilly here at night, and Danny’s just wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans.  He smiles at her, and runs his fingers over the quilt.  It’s green and white, in a traditional hibiscus pattern.  It used to lie on her bed, back in Hawaii, and it still reminds her of home.

 Kono scoots closer to Danny, and he leans against her side, letting his head rest on her shoulder.  She pushes her toes against the cool grass, just enough to start the swing rocking gently.  The moon is bright, turning everything a glittery silver.

 Danny doesn’t say anything, but he seems content, as they rock gently back and forth.

 After a while, Kono decides that if anyone is going to speak up, it’s going to be her, so she might as well. “It’s really good to see you, Danny. I missed you guys.”

 Danny nods against her arm. “Missed you too.”

 She breathes in deeply, then out again. Danny smells of hospital and stale sweat, there’s none of the island clinging to him at this point.  Fish out of water, just like her.

 “Anything I can do to help?”

 Danny fidgets, and then straightens up, the weight of his head lifting off her shoulder.  “Like I said.  I may have done the wrong thing, coming here.”

 Kono holds her tongue (it happens occasionally).  She couldn’t disagree more, but then again she hasn’t been home in a long time, hasn’t been part of Five-0, hasn’t seen Steve and Danny on a daily basis like she once had.  “Why do you say that?”  

 “Steve left for a reason.  He knew what he was doing.  I’m… interfering.”

 “Steve seemed pretty happy to see you.” This is an understatement – Steve was ridiculously happy to see Danny when he first appeared.  That kiss was spectacular, and plenty mutual.  The love-struck expression on Steve’s face could be seen from space.

 “Could have just been because of the pain meds.”

 “Do you really believe that?”

 Danny shrugs.  “I’m not as oblivious as some people think.”  He pokes his foot at the ground to get the swing rocking again, jiggles his knee up and down.  “We’ve got a pattern, me and Steve.  Steve gets into a jam, does something ridiculous, and I go and get him. It’s so familiar, there’s a rut in the dirt to show for it.  Doesn’t mean anything’s going to change.”

 “Change?”

 Danny glares at Kono, his creased brow clear as day in the moonlight.  “My after the fact rescues haven’t ever been rewarded with a make-out session before, no matter what drugs Steve was on.”

 “Danny,” Kono shifts, turning towards him.  He’s clearly miserable, and she can’t figure out why.  “Has he done something to upset you?  I thought you’d be, you know, happy about this.”

 Danny rubs a hand across his face. “I am, don’t you get it?  I want to be, so much, God, I really do.”

 Kono bumps her shoulder against Danny’s.  “It’s normal to be nervous about the start of a relationship.  Give it time, you guys will work it out.”

 “That’s the thing,” Danny says, letting his hand fall to his lap and catching Kono’s gaze.  “I’m not sure Steve wants to.”

 *****

 The next day, back at the hospital, Kono can see what Danny is talking about.  Steve is feeling much better, more like himself, grinning at the nurses and exuding confidence as he powers through some preliminary exercises to plan out his physical therapy needs (he’ll probably ignore all attempts at physical therapy later, but he’s playing nice with the staff now).  He brushes off the doctor’s hesitance when he talks about the potential damage to his eye, and cheerfully eats the red jello and tasteless chicken they bring him at lunch.

 But he hardly looks at Danny.

 Kono excuses herself for a few hours – there’s paperwork she still needs to do on their last op, and she has visits scheduled with several girls living in a group home nearby.  When she returns around dinnertime, she finds Danny waiting for her in the hospital lobby.

 “You can go up if you want,” Danny says.  “But I’m ready to go, if you just want to head home.”

 Kono stares at Danny for a minute, trying not to let her surprise show on her face.  “Are you sure?”

 Danny gives a sharp nod.  “Yeah.”

 They don’t talk much on the car ride back to Kono’s house.  At one point Danny shakes his head and looks over at her, a lost expression on his face. “I asked him if he wanted me to give him some space.  He said yes.”

 “Oh… so…” She’s at a loss, too. “Did he, um, elaborate?”

 Danny pressed his lips together. “He told me to come back tomorrow. He’s probably getting discharged. So I guess I’m allowed to be there for that.”

 “Danny…”

 “Don’t worry about it, Kono. It’s just Steve.  He gets pissy when he’s in the hospital.  He’ll mellow out.”

 But Danny doesn’t look like he believes his own words, and it is breaking Kono’s heart.

 ****

Steve is in fact discharged the next day.  Kono and Danny show up at the hospital just after lunch to find Steve sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in the clothes Danny had brought him the day before, and raring to go.

 He smiles at them both, apparently having mellowed (as Danny predicted) with the news that he can leave the hospital, and Kono sees hope in Danny’s eyes.

 The car ride back is taxing. There’s traffic, and Steve is holding himself stiffly in the front seat, the movement of the car aggravating his injuries.  Danny’s sitting in the back behind Kono, doing his best to distract Steve with random bits of trivia about their friends back home.  Steve doesn’t respond much.  Finally Danny asks if Steve wants to take another pain pill, and Steve snaps out that he’s fine.  

 A few minutes later, however, Kono glances over and sees Steve grimacing, pale and sweaty, his head in his hands.  He’s clearly not fine.

 “Hey, Steve,” she says quietly.  “Want me to pull over for a minute?”  She had always thought Steve was joking about being susceptible to motion sickness, but the stop and go traffic would get on anyone’s nerves, even if they didn’t have a recent head injury.

 Steve’s got his lips pressed tightly together, and he gives a quick nod.  Kono is able to pull off on the shoulder a minute or so later, and by this time, Steve is breathing through his mouth and looking decidedly green.

 She rolls down the window on Steve’s side, but they’re still getting more fumes than fresh air.  Danny leans forward from the back seat, looking worried. Steve just continues to take long breaths, pressing his hands against his forehead.

 They sit in silence for a few uncomfortable minutes, the car shaking as the traffic speeds by them on the highway. Danny digs a water bottle out of his pack and hands it to Steve, who takes it and sips carefully.  

 “Want to try lying down in the back seat?”  Kono asks. “You might feel better if you got horizontal.”

 Steve apparently likes this suggestion, pushing the car door open and grabbing the back door before Kono even finishes her sentence.  Danny is glancing out his window, calculating whether he’s got enough space to open his door without getting run over, when Steve climbs into the back seat and stretches out, planting his head firmly on Danny’s lap.

 The look on Danny’s face is priceless. Kono can’t help smiling at him as Steve presses his face into Danny’s stomach.

 Danny slowly lowers his hands from where they had flown up into the air when Steve barreled into the car.  One hand lands on Steve’s shoulder, the other gently falls to his head.  Steve shivers, leaning into Danny’s touch.

 “It’s okay, babe,” Danny says, still disbelieving, as he cards his fingers through Steve’s short hair, careful of the strap holding Steve’s eye patch on.  “You’re all right.  Just relax, this is good, you’re good.” Steve clutches Danny’s side, Danny’s t-shirt bunching in Steve’s hand.  Danny rubs Steve’s back.  “We’re okay.”

 Kono smiles at the sight, and then turns around in her seat and pulls the car back onto the highway.  She doesn’t mind playing chauffeur one bit, not when things are so clearly heading in the right direction.

 Kono and Danny get Steve settled back in her spare room, where Steve was staying while they were working together. It seems like it’s been weeks since Steve showed up to help her take down the latest bad guy.  Steve announces that he’s not hungry and is just going to sleep, so they make sure he’s got a glass of water and his pain meds, and let him rest.  Danny hangs back for a moment, and Kono sees him lean down and brush a kiss against Steve’s cheek.  She can’t help letting out a sigh of relief.  

 Kono and Danny go through the motions of putting together dinner from leftover chicken and pasta, and retreat to the back porch again, this time with a six-pack of beer.  Danny finishes two as they chat aimlessly about how Grace is doing in college, Charlie’s developing skills at a pitcher in little league, and whether Lou’s niece is going to make the varsity basketball team this year.  Kono updates Danny on how her family back on Oahu is doing, and Danny asks polite questions about her father.

 “Do you ever think about coming back?” Danny asks, reaching down to place an empty bottle on the ground and open another.

 She knows he means to Oahu.  “Of course.”

 “Then why don’t you?”

 “My work is here.”

 “But…”  Kono can tell Danny is looking for a way to say this that isn’t too abrasive.  She’s not sure there is one.

 “You don’t even come to visit. Not for holidays, special occasions, anything.”

 Kono takes a sip of her beer. She can’t really deny it.

 “Is it because of Adam?  You wouldn’t have to see him.  We could keep him away from you, you know.  We’ve got skills.”  Danny quirks a grin at her, and Kono can’t help smiling back.

 “It’s not because of Adam, exactly.” She blows out a long breath. “It’s just easier to make a clean break from everything that happened there, that’s all.”

 Danny gets a quizzical look on his face, studying her carefully.  “Do you feel like you can’t come back?”

 Kono feels a wave of shame, something she thought she had come to terms with raising its ugly head again. <i>You ran away. Coward.  You left your family.</i>  Shaking her head, she squares her shoulders and turns to Danny. “My family was pretty hard on me, for a while, for leaving.  My father especially.  But I think they understand now.”

 She’s pretty sure they still hold it against her.  But they talk on the phone as if nothing is wrong, so at least some progress has been made.

 Danny leans back and rubs his chin with his hand.  “What if Steve is doing the same thing?”

 What, running away?  Kono thinks to herself.  Or feeling guilty?  “Is he?”

 “I don’t know.”

 “Danny…”  Kono lets out a long breath.  “I know why I did what I did, why I’ve been staying away.  Some good has definitely come of it.  But I’m not sure it was worth it.”  She might never know.

 “Wherever you go, there you are?” Danny asks, his half smile apologizing for the attempt at humor.

 “Maybe.”

 Danny fusses with the label on his beer bottle, until he gets it off with a satisfied tug.  “Isn’t home the place where they always have to take you in?”

 Kono smiles.  She’d like to think so, but… “Don’t they also say you can’t go home again?”

 Danny snorts.  “I studied economics, not English lit.”  He sighs, waving his hands, his empty beer bottle along for the ride.  “I just want Steve to be okay, whatever pearl of wisdom applies.”

 “Me too, Danny, me too.”

#McDanno #McDanno fic #H50 #Hawaii Five-O #kono kalakaua #Steve McGarrett #Danny Williams

[thethirdwheel404]

Med Rewatch Series (#1)

Right, monkey brain said no sleep no rest, only suffering at the hands of med.

I am going to start with the first episode of S2: Soul Care. Reasoning? I need to check if Latham references Ava in his first interaction with Connor.

If my memory serves me right, when Connor is passed over to Latham for his fellowship, Latham says that he was not his first choice. In fact, his first choice was a brilliant surgeon from South Africa. In the first episode of S2, a season where Ava Bekker is only introduced with one line at the end of the last episode.

If I remember correctly and Latham does actually say that in the first ep of s2, it will be huge for the continuity (and my theory that I came up with today, if you’re interested in following this you should really read that really long post that came a little before this where the basis of the theory is laid out). 

Also in rewatching this I see more of Sarah which, again, I have not seen in two years, and she was the reason I became invested in the show, and the reason I stopped watching after she left.

And all of this even before I start the episode.

There are so many emotions and thoughts running through my brain it literally hurts. I think i’m getting a headache. I’m already really regretting this, this cannot be healthy for me.

(btw, this will basically be a train of thought type thing, I’ll do my best to keep it coherent)

- omg its starting

- i completely forgot how s1 ended but its not importnat in anyway

- just, why are they in a helicopter

- how fast does the episode move ive forgotten and i need to know

-JESUS CHRIST SO DRAMATIC

- THE BEGINNING WITH WILL WHY

- it is at this point where I apologize to all those who made it this far bc we’re literally not even 30 seconds in yet

- i just have a lot of med thoughts

- oh god save me

- i am laughing hysterically

- JESUS CHRIST THE APRIL TB STORYLINE AND TATE WTF

- god that feels like a lifetime ago it was relevant holyshit

-remember when she was pregnant?

- literally what have I missed

- side note, i really like the cup april drinks out of.

-THERE SHE IS

-SARAH

-SHE’S HERE

-and she’s a barista

-literally wtf is this show

-and the dramatic music is still going literally chill man god

-THE WAY SARAH SMILES HOLY SHITTTT come on man there was literally no way i’d survive this but fuck not even a minute in...

- okay but i never understood charles’ family scenario but this is already too fucking long for a minute in so i hope we can just skip past that

-hahahah sharon’s fucking divorce? holy shit, this is too dramatic for the first ep literally save me (at least she acts well)

-yeah the one thing I will say about med (thats a lie ive already said a hundred but yk) is that for the crap storylines and all, the actors take what they’re given and give it their all and i appreciate it so much

-the helicopter’s number is N365UCC and just... succ

-ethans bird (!)

-also the fact that’s so big for ethan to be chief resident is so weird to me. like the last medical drama I watched was greys and they are all like grizzled veterans and have been doing that stuff for actual decades and i tend to put med and greys on like the same level bc they are the only medical dramas ive watched but.. holy crap the people on med are so young?? half their main cast is med students and residents. when nearly every main character on greys is a department head. its wild.

-proud of ethan. proud of my boy (did you know that adam jacobs who played aladdin on broadway was in a s3 episode? fun facts) (fun fact: did you know that ava is the only main character on the show who’s status is now deceased? I’ll shut up now.)

-oh my god i say roland buck III’s name and GOD noah jesus

- i find noah incredibly annoying, especially bc he tries to overshadow reese (my fav) but also just bc hes spoiled [that thing that said that one of the biggest mistakes med made was not having sarah get the emergency med residency at the end of s1 comes to mine, and the fact that noah got his residency easy peasy] - but, i will say that the moment at the end of this season where noah and reese dance together at the party is very adorable. (pre reesker brain showing lmao I really did love sarah with my whole heart) (moreover my snapchat memories were filled with just recordings of reese scenes lmaooooo)

-okay at this point I need to stop once i get to the potential ava thing bc what is happening we’re not even two minutes in why is this so long. (so many thoughts)

- i find will annoying but,,, he is kind of nice to look at. and what i mean is like facial acting (i am a lesbian). like. just. don’t speak. and when he’s being a good character he’s fine. it’s very few and very far between ig

-natalie annoys me so much and shes only had one line, and it wasn’t even a character line, it was mainly exposition.

-EW

-FUCKING EW

-ITS CONNOR HE’S HERE. god i forgot what he looked like in red scrubs and his poofy hair. child compared to s3 and s4. hopefully we see latham soon so we all don’t have to suffer through this. and he looks so angsty. he definetly glowed up in the later seasons.

- i have no clue how to spell definetly. I am guessing literally everytime.

-latham please come and end this all.

-oh haha there’s downey hes dead.

-okay so i actually watched s1 after i watched s2 which is so weird to think about. like that means that i liked s2 so much that i BOUGHT THE DVD FOR S1. yeah. I liked it that much (it really only means I was that much of a simp for sarah). but it also means that technically i watched s1 after i met ava?? like i honestly had NO CLUE what was in my future. did young me ever think she was going to stay up late at night, avoiding history hw while analyzing a defunct character from this show on a whim? a character i was super annoyed with at the beginning? who has no become a huge part of my personality? honestly? no. no she did not.

-and the story with downey was so jarring. and the story with zanetti. like i think i first started watching with the first ep of s2 (the one im talking about rn) and i was a bit lost. so going back and watch s1 to like connect the dots. but i never expected the dots to look like that. its like each season of this show is a completely different show from all the other seasons. like i’ve said before, this show is a headache. but literally latham please come and end this for now.

-GOD CONNOR LOOKS SO YOUNG WHAT THE HELL thats so weird lmaooooo

- like i had absolutely no clue who downey was going into this. and they they started talking like ‘oh yeah he killed his attending’ and i was just like ‘damn bro ill cheers to that’

- that’s literally ava’s first line actually. “i heard your girlfriend went insane and you murdered your attending.” - which was why she was hated at first. that was literally her first line to connor which is like, so hilariously rude that it was instantly iconic.

-also HAHAHAHAH CUE FUCKING ANGST ABOUT CONNOR HURTING EVERYONE AROUND HIM WTF BRO THE EFFECT YOU HAVE ON PEOPLE

- but i’m also sad now. --- “I heard your girlfriend went insane.” Oh. Oh, sweetie. Ava... No. --- but why does s2 ava (all two lines) foreshadow s4 ava in so many ways. like literally what were the writers on.

-baghdad.

-ah yes. the return of baghdad. been a long time since i heard that one, but it is easily one of my favorite running things about med. its just a little detail but the nick name is like perfect. (when i read fanfic where the chars are actually doing doctor stuff in the hospital it makes me light up) the WORLD BUILDINGGGGG. but whatever

-this is the girl who has the fake baby right? that was a really good ep (bc sarah content. can you see my favorites? for the same reason the one where the girl has split personalities easily ranks high with me.) oh wait this is the one where the dad like dies but then comes back for a split second to see his grand child. there’s not really a lot I can say about that, but the fact that i remember it vividly is... weird.

-okay but I actually love the ED in this show. I love how the show is centered around the ED and not the OR like greys. its fast paced, you see a lot about the characters really quickly (one of the reason’s connor’s intro to the hospital in the pilot is certified iconic in my mind [his interactions with will are gold]). the team works well together (usually, when things are good. - which is another reason I hated the show more as time went on. The personal lives interfered more and more and more with their work as time went on. it got so annoying). but like right here will just calls maggies name and maggie is just On It. I love it. I love the fast pace. it’s why this show got me to come back. so many things happen, it overloads my brain, like the way a video game works y occupying all of your attention.

-when is the dad gonna pass out i’m just waiting

-AHAHAHAHAHA JEFF NOOOOO. what even was the deal with jeff that storyline annoyed me so much I never got it. he was friends with nat’s husband (who died) and they were both named Jeff? and she actually ended up getting with Jeff a few times?

- the more you watch med and see how the characters get with each other, the more jaded you become

-omg they’re transferring the girl to the bed i love it when they count

-maggie was great but from what i heard/read they ruined her character too??? just not the same

-lmao only real g’s remember the chicago fire backdoor med pilot (if you want an explanation ask me lmao it was a ride)

- i was a real med simp bc I bought that episode on apple video.

-ahahaha this is so stupid. Jeff tries to do things and Will (being a fucking asshole and jealous, doesnt’ let him). he’s a med student let him fucking learn. also i remember why i hated will

-okay but if you look at greys vs. med, greys literally gives their med students no rights. scratch that. they give they’re interns little to no rights. (i only watched the last three seasons bc lesbian, but in those seasons they introduce the bottom of the totem pole, the sub I’s, who are a step ahead of med students, yet they are jokes on the show.) its just a weird juxtaposition is all.

-”lungs are wet.” dramatic music intensifies.

-OKAY BUT I LITERALLY FORGOT NATALIE SPECIALIZED IN PEDS. LIKE I COMPLETELY 100% FORGOT. HOLY SHIT THATS SO FUNNY i can’t believe in my mass hyperfixation i forgot, just more proof that she doesn’t deserve anything.

-why did will make nat do that call? also idk why but is it weird to anyone else when the characters call each other but just.. their names.

-ahahahah i laugh literally everytime i remember that will is supposed to be in charge like he is threatened by anything that MOVES. (also more juxtapositon to greys bc here the attendings are treated as a joke!)

- hly shit i just remember monday mourning and god damn the angst literally never takes a day off but whatever.

- i dont usually get like this but the dad’s acting here is actually making me sad lol. Usually i get annoyed when family members get emotional (im weird uhhhh)

-why did we have to watch the tube being put in for so long - med is so dramatic this fucking show whyyyy

- i bet u the dad is gonna pass out

-oh ig not oops

-OKAY FUCK ME THAT LITERALLY ONLY TOOK US TO THE TITLES HOW DO I HAVE THESE MANY FUCKING THOUGHTS.

-wait latham introduction we may just be able to call it here.

-haha i fucking hate him (connor). he just... comes off so fake-charming its annoying. i cant get over it lmao

-okay but literally every gives connor shit and I am here for it. Latham: “did you kill him?”

- it is literally so funny but annoy how connor throws hands with literally everyone in his path (like dude just chill come onnn)

-okay. okay. okay. finally the part i was waiting for.

- Latham: I preferred a young woman from Groote Schuur, but I was outvoted.

That’s an actual quote, from Latham. For those who are wondering, Groote Schuur is a famous hospital in, you guessed it, South Africa. This is where I’m calling the episode. This is all I needed.

I just want to restate. This is the first episode of season 2. Ava Bekker is introduced to the show in the last episode of season 2. What does this mean, my friends? It means everything.

For those of you who stuck through to the end, I am very thankful. Here we have probably the first piece of evidence to my theory, at least chronologically.

I, personally, think it’s absurd I remembered this point, but I did. That point, that line, presently, watching this episode with no idea of what the future holds, is only there to tell us that Latham and Connor are not going to agree. But this is the single greatest piece of foreshadowing med has ever done.

Med has never planned anything. I feel confident when I say that. Look at their storylines. They are literally on fire, and every decision the characters make reads like the writers going ‘we have no idea how we made it this far, we thought we would get stopped like ten steps ago.’

When has med ever planned things more than a few episodes in advanced, honestly? Almost never, and going a full season sitting on a plot point, that’s major. This was the first time med has ever planned something miles in advance.

In all honestly, yes I am probably giving the med writers a lot more credit than they deserve. It’s quite possible that as the season progressed they just decided connor needed a new love interest or at least a new dynamic, so they could have just easily looked back and thought ‘oh, hey, here’s a fun little thing we said earlier in the season, wouldn’t it be fun if it paid off?’ That could be true.

Here’s why it probably isn’t. The med writers have no respect for their own continuity. you really think that, in order to come up with a whole new character, they went back to the first episode of the season and paid off a line that is said in less than 2 seconds? no way. Bull. Shit.

honestly, it is probably equally unlikely that either of these things happened. The med writers don’t look back at their story. It’s true, but they also don’t plan things in advance either.

here’s the thing, the more i write, the more absurd it starts to sound. Yeah. Sure. the med writers sat on a character for an entire season, that’s totally a thing that happened and not sarcasm. When pigs fly. everyone knows med is impulsive and messy. But what I am saying is that they planned one thing. One thing.

Ava has an accent. That was a commitment. A pretty uncommon one too. South Africa is such an out of the box choice that god its barely on the map. It asks a lot of someone to act hard while also doing an uncommon accent. If the med writers just decided they needed to give connor a new dynamic, they could have made it a n y o n e. Yeah, sure it would have been nice to have the latham dynamic with the new character, but it would have been so much easier to just create a new character that doesn’t have such a commitment. We all know people who play opposite of Connor Rhodes do not stay around that long.

There is absolutely no reason Connor’s s3 love interest had to be the girl from South Africa. It could have literally been anyone. They could have kept Robin on. They could have made the new character not have so many specific requirements.

At this point, I’m pushing this really hard. Yeah, obviously Ava was planned from the beginning of s2. She had to be. It’s way too specific to be anything else.

What I’m pointing out here is med has never done that before. (at least to my knowledge, if i’m wrong please tell me i don’t want to be a fool) They have never had such a concrete plan for a character, so much as to tease them a full season before they were introduced.

I’m saying, that Ava was special. She was the only character who was teased ahead of her arrival. The one who they knew they wanted, other than the originals, and honestly saying the ‘knew what they wanted to do with the originals’ is being generous. But Ava was different. They had big plans for Ava.

It’s undeniable. Ava was the only character who was planned and teased ahead of her arrival. Ava has such a different style and character than anyone else on the show. She was always planned to be, even when she was just being teased, a rival to connor, meaning she could stand her own against him (or without him).

Now of course, the med writers forgot this when writing s4 and s5. But for the purposes of the important things, all that really matters are the two mentions in s2, and what happens in s3. (for the theory at least).

In conclusion: think about how odd it is that Ava was the only character that was planned over the course of the show. Like sure the characters are planned, but never this far in advance. Med writers don’t really plan anything. I would be shocked if they did anything but through a dart at a spinning wheel. But they had plans for Ava, and they had plans for s3, when she was good.

Think about how odd it is that the med writers had a character planned from the start of s2, that they sat on for a whole season. They never, ever did something so slow and deliberate. Never. It goes against their formula. Like a fucking shark, they have to be moving or they die, at least in their heads. But Ava was always a change to the formula. They had a plan for s3.

that’s it for now. we will see what happens when i watch the last episode of s2.

read the next parts:

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Extra

#chicago med #med rewatch series #mine #soul care #ava bekker

[reckoningss]

Mercy Springs - Two

Summary: Mercy Booker holds these truths to be self-evident: that animals are significantly more relatable than people, and that working as a veterinary tech in a sleepy, little town is about as exciting as her life is going to get. When a strange man shows up after hours with an injured dog, she has a decision to make - go on living the quiet life she’s come to know, or open the door to the exhilarating unknown.

Pairing: Pete Castiglione/Frank Castle x OC (Mercy Booker)

Warnings: Allusions to violence, Mild descriptions of blood

Wordcount: 1.5k

A/N:

“I need help.”

Mercy blinked, somewhat surprised that she could hear anything above the blood rushing in her ears and the rain pounding the roof and windows. The man on the other side of the door shuffled to balance the dog in one arm and banged a palm against the glass again. She flinched. 

“Please. He needs help.”

He was at least six feet tall and - if Mercy had to guess - lean and muscled beneath the layers of his cold weather clothing. His hair was black, clumps of it mussed and matted from the rain. Blood dappled his face and dripped from a wound over his left eyebrow. He had dark features, she noticed, a strong angular face. One that looks like it can take a beating, she thought. It wouldn’t be difficult for him to overpower her. 

Against her own will, Mercy’s eyes flickered down to the dog. Its side rose and fell weakly, breathing labored. Its mouth hung open, pink tongue lolling out, long and dry. Its short, grey fur sported intricate patterns of dried blood but she could see more - fresh blood - dripping down onto the man’s shoes. Her heart twinged.  Only a truly sick person would hurt a dog this badly to get at her, but she couldn’t discount the possibility. Either way, she wouldn’t just let an innocent animal suffer.

Not taking her eyes off of them, Mercy crouched down to retrieve the dropped keyring. She carefully fitted several keys between her fingers so they splayed menacingly below her knuckles. Then she unlocked the door. Before he could push his way in, she wedged one sneakered foot against its base only allowing an inch of space between the door and the jam. The man stopped in his tracks, eyeing Mercy impatiently. 

“If you try anything,” she spat, “I’ll slit your throat and feed you to the dogs.” 

For a second, the man looked kind of appalled. It didn’t last long. He shrugged and shouldered past her into the lobby, dripping blood across the newly mopped floor. “Fair enough.”

“Through there.” Mercy followed the stranger into a dark exam room and flipped the light switch. The fluorescents overhead hummed to vivid life, and Mercy had to take a moment for her eyes to adjust. 

The man turned toward her, the dog still cradled in his arms, his eyes wide with alarm, blood and water pattering quietly on the floor.

“Lay him on the table.”  He did as she instructed, gently transferring the dog to the pristine exam table. then whirling toward her, palms blood-stained and upturned. “Don’t come any closer!” Mercy brandished her makeshift brass knuckles in warning. “Go over there and wash your hands then go into the second drawer and soak three rags with warm water.” 

As he washed up, Mercy crammed the keys back into her pockets and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. She approached the dog and offered a stretch of her forearm for it to sniff weakly before she began looking for wounds. 

The stranger slapped a pile of wet rags down onto the edge of the table. Mercy picked one up and started wiping blood from the dog’s fur. 

“We need to talk, Mister...”

“Pete.” He bit the name out, refusing to offer more. Mercy took it in stride. 

“Ok, Pete, I need to know what happened. Where’s he hurt?” 

Pete’s fingers flexed uneasily against the metal of the table. “He was stabbed. Somewhere around the shoulder, I think.” 

A feeble growl indicated to Mercy that she’d found it. The dog’s lip curled back from his teeth and he rumbled low. She pointed to a nearby cabinet without looking. “Go into the top drawer and grab an irrigation bottle. It’ll say ‘Saline Wound Solution’.” 

He placed it down beside her elbow and she picked it up, fitting a nozzle top onto the lid quickly. Mercy squirted solution into the wound to clear away some of the blood. 

“I can’t put him under, Pete, we keep meticulous inventory logs. My boss will notice if we lose that kind of juice.” 

Pete shook his head violently. “No. No drugs. He doesn’t need to go under.”

Mercy nodded. “I can give him a little something for the pain. Anything I should know about? Kidney disease, liver disease, low blood sugar?” 

“No.”

“Good.” 

Reaching over into a rollaway cabinet, Mercy retrieved an amber bottle of liquid and a new syringe. She unsheathed the syringe with her teeth then plunged it into the top of the bottle and extracted several CCs of liquid. 

“This is a localized anesthetic. It’ll cause numbness to this area only.” 

Pete nodded in understanding and Mercy stabbed the needle into the dog’s shoulder and pushed down the plunger. 

“What’s his name?”

“Hm?”

“His name, Pete, what’s he go by?”

“Uhh, Max.” 

Mercy turned her attention back to the dog and stroked his damp fur. “Ok, Max, this isn’t going to be super great, but we’re going to get through it.” 

Max’s hazel eyes flicked up to her at the sound of his name. His tail thumped the table once. The memory of a smile flickered across Mercy’s face. “Ok.”

Mercy was very proud of her sutures; she always had been. Not that there were many chances for her to practice them in her current position, being a vet tech she didn’t get many opportunities for precision procedures. She almost wished she could take a picture to show to Dr. Leibowitz as she tied off her last stitch and cut the synthetic thread. 

She sighed, leaning back against the counter behind her and throwing the remaining thread and needle into the trash. “All done.” If she’d thought she was tired before, she was practically catatonic now. 

Pete whistled a low, appreciative note and sauntered over to the table. He ran a large hand over Max’s side. “Look at that, buddy, like brand new.”

Mercy felt a thrill of pride at that. The sutures followed one, clean line through the center of an expertly shaved patch of grey skin. Mercy stripped off her gloves and crossed over to the back of the exam room. 

“He’s gonna want to nip at those when he’s feeling better so you’re going to need to keep this on him for a few weeks at least.” Her voice decreased in volume as she stepped into the back hallway and ambled down to the storage room. She selected an appropriately sized cone from a shelf. Returning to the exam room, she pantomimed putting the cone together for Pete who was doing his best to look unimpressed. “And I’ll spot you a few tablets of meloxicam for the pain. But only a few and follow the instructions to a T. Follow me this way.”

Pete trailed her into the front hallway this time and down to the small pharmacy room where Mercy selected the stubby key to the medicine cabinet. 

“Look, Dr., you don’t have to do this. He doesn’t need the pills,” Pete muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

Mercy ignored the way he scuffed his feet against the linoleum, leaving black rubber streaks behind, and shook four tablets out of a bottle and placed them in a small baggie. She took a small folded instruction pamphlet from the door and slipped it into the back before zipping it up. The bag was promptly (and forcefully) shoved into Pete’s hoodie pocket, an act that seemed to catch him off guard for a moment.

Mercy grinned sheepishly at his incredulous expression. She got that look a lot. “My dog had an accident a few months back, but I never refilled her prescription. I’ll take care of it.” 

The two made their way back to the operating room in silence - shuffling sneaker tread and the plastic crinkle of the baggie their only accompaniment. Max was half up on the table when they made it back, strong neck craned to look for his owner. Mercy was relieved to see some excitement back in his eyes. Pete slid the folded cone beneath his arm and then, seemed to have a thought. He dug back into his pocket and pulled out a wad of crumpled bills. 

Mercy shook her head before he could separate them. “Forget it. It’s after hours.”

“You su-” 

“Yeah. I would’ve helped him anyway.” 

Frank nodded. Something in his expression saying, I respect that. Carefully, he scooped Max up from the table. Mercy followed him to the door, her mind whirling all the while. She would have to check the tapes and try to erase any trace of Pete and Max. Maybe she could say the storm interfered with the CCTV. A new scrip would need to be written up to account for the missing pain meds. Frank turned back toward her beneath the little awning over the doorway; the rain hadn’t stopped, but it had softened a bit.

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it.”

Only after Pete loaded Max and himself into a beat-up box van and rolled out of the parking lot did Mercy lock the door and press her weary back to it. And only then did she realize that the entire clinic would need to be cleaned again. She groaned.

It was going to be a long night. 

#Frank Castle #The Punisher #Frank Castle x Reader #THe Punisher x Reader #Frank Castle Angst #Frank Castle Fic #Frank Castle imagine #Frank Castle x OC #MCU #Marvel Fic #Defenders #Punisher Angst #Avengers fic #Defenders fic #My Writing #SFW

[forgingnewpaths]

The beginning

The first time I was diagnosed with an official problem was in 2008 after a “triumphant” expedition to Europe.  I had gone on a school trip to be a chaperone...to London, Paris, Spain and Portugal.  I lasted one night.  Well two if you count the plane ride.  I had my first ever, full blown panic attack which culminated in one of the other chaperones bringing me to the emergency room, getting me a lot of sedatives and me bailing from the trip.  In all honesty, I couldn't be responsible for the welfare of the kids, and I had already pulled myself and another adult off the trip.  It was my only real choice.  

When I returned to America, I saw a therapist, who, before appointments gave me electronic questionnaires.  Every question it seemed, I answered “all the time.”  Questions like, Do you feel that you are in imminent danger?  Do you worry about leaving your house?  Do you feel overcome with emotions so much so that it interferes with your daily life?  Yes, yes yes and yes. I felt so small in that waiting room.  There was something wrong with me.  

After a while, with meds, I began to stabilize.  I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder, panic disorder and OCD!  I was FANCY.  

Fast forward to now.  10 years or so later, living on the other side of the country, two kids, married, and still the same triple threat...many of my panic episodes and subsequent extreme anxiety would last 2 to 3 weeks and then subside.   They were all brought on by stress, the death of my father, birth of both children, medical complications....the usual.  This last one was different though.  

On December 31, 2019 I went to my therapist, a psychic gentleman who knows me and has worked with me for about 9 years. He knew I had been under extreme stress at work....my boss was removed, leaving us with all of his work, a public outcry, feelings of guilt and anger about his removal in general.  I had been consistently drinking every night to cope.  It helped to blur the reality of work to home, so I could be a friendly mom right away.  It soothed me and made me less edgy.  To keep keto, I drank copious amounts of vodka and seltzer.

A week before, I was barely staggering through the holidays, with my foot in a boot for plantar fasciitis, a crown I lost in a caramel accident, and three ruined batches of said caramel for my neighbors’  Christmas gifts.  (We went with fudge in the end).  

I was tearful, a wreck, upset about going back to work.  I was afraid of everything.  He told me that I needed to cut waaaay back on my drinking as it was interfering with my medicine.  

That night, New Years Eve, I aborted our plans early and came home around 10.  I walked the dogs six times around the block.  I practiced grounding, I practiced breathing.  I lost the feelings in my arms, dread coursing through me as my heart pounded out of my chest.  I called my therapist, who called right back and suggested the ER.  I was able to leave my kids at home for normalcy, and get my dear friend Lynn to come with me to the ER. 

Everything was far more urgent for me than for anyone else.  I NEED to get to see someone.  I NEED to go in the back.  I NEED water.  There could have been a person with a knife sticking out of their neck and my needs would have come first.  No question.  Unfortunately, no one else felt that way.  

After a few hours, I sent Lynn home thinking I would be there for a bit.  Since it was New Years Eve, this was not an option.  I had to call Lynn back and have her come to get me.  I spent the first moments of 2020 standing outside of the ER waiting for my friend to collect me.  It was quite a moment, where I could see the scene zoomed out with some kind of caption.  I have not picked the caption or the background music yet.

She drove me home, and I spent the next day sandwiched between my two kids on their I pads, sleeping.  Normalcy came with a walk.  I went back to work.  I continued to avoid the fact that I have ZERO, and I mean ZERO effective coping strategies.  I was walking around, shaking, trembling, not eating and assuming it was because I had quit drinking.  

Sunday morning, I walked to the nearest convenient MD.  They were very nice, took my blood pressure and temp, then gave me a hug, some saltines, apple juice and suggested I go to the ER.  (Later they would charge me for 45 dollars for that visit).  

This time I called Christine to get me, who was there in moments.  She brought me to the ER and they let us into the padded room, where there is a chair bolted to the wall, a camera and a small screen.  When you go to this room, you are considered....extra fancy?

Several hours pass.  Then, a woman came in and explained to me that I had gotten where I was because of anxiety and fear.  Anxiety is a gift to make me work hard and make me think of so many things at once.  It helps me to complete seven million things in a day!  Sometimes, though, she said, it can turn, as everything has two truths.  

“What do you want to do?” She asked. 

“I want to be like J Lo and go wherever celebrities go when they are suffering from exhaustion.”    There was a long pause.  Christine and my stepmother were with me. They looked skeptical.

“Ok.” The woman said. 

“I want to be with my kids and my husband, and I want a break.  And I want to swim.” 

“Ok.  Then let’s figure that out.  And, I am going to set you up in a program to help you get some coping skills.  Do you think you have some time you can come off work for a few weeks?  I think it would really help you.”  

I wish I could tell you that I did not panic anymore and that I was never anxious because they fixed me.  That did not happen. 

I had to fix myself.  I have to work on it every day.  This is my incomplete, messy, ever evolving journey to understand my thought patterns, my complex structures of anxiety lasagna, where I still wake up in fear but eventually realize that a feeling is a feeling, not reality.   And I do this in the process of being a wife, mother, friend, school volunteer, professional person.  It’s a hot mess in general.  

But then, add in a pandemic.  That’s cool, universe. 

[its-artsy-author]

Purple Comes From Red And Blue Chapter One

prologue

chapter one:  in which the Naughty Boi takes the Pure and Nerd Bois on a ride, and aliens happen (part one of two)

ship(s): klance as a fusion, eventual klunk

word count: 3,883

tws/cws: running away, being yelled at/ridiculed by authority figures, aliens??? is that a trigger???, syringes, medical experiments, non-consensual experimentation

Our story begins with a flight simulator in the most prestigious astro-explorer academy in the world, the Galaxy Garrison.

A dark-haired boy in an orange, white and grey flight suit grabs a walkie-talkie from its stowage point above him, “Galaxy Garrison flight log 5-11-14. Begin descent to Kerberos for rescue mission.” He tilts the control stick on his dashboard forward.

“Ugh. Klance, can you keep this thing straight?” A large Samoan boy in the same flight suit exclaims, hands moving frantically over a screen in front of him. He retches, nauseous, as the ship swerves.

Our pilot, Klance, is a tall boy with dark brown, almost black, hair and pale brown skin. “Relax, Hunk,” presumably the engineer behind him, “I’m just getting a feel for the stick. Besides, it’s not like I did this!” Klance jerks the control stick sharply to the right. The ship swerves in that direction, tossing its contents around wildly.

“Klance, stop it, unless you want to be stuck on cleaning duty again! I will throw up!” Hunk grabs the dashboard in front of him, stomach lurching. Klance huffs an annoyed sigh, but complies, shifting the controls for a smoother flight. A disruptive beeping sounds from the walkie-talkie that the communications officer has hanging on a small perch above them. The smaller figure, pale and slender with wide owlish eyes, calls out to the rest of their team, “Klance, we’ve picked up a distress beacon!” they peer over at the pilot, who somehow manages to exude an aura of nonchalant confidence while also having taut muscles and a focused expression.

“Look alive, team! Pidge, track coordinates.” The communications officer- Pidge, their name was- turns back to their console, muttering their assent, just as the ship begins shaking again; the overhead fluorescent lights flash red and alarms blare from every speaker.

Hunk groans, clutching at his mouth and pushing his monitor away from him. The craft rumbled and shook again, “Knock it off, Klance, please!” he complains, lurching in his seat.

Klance sends a sharp look Hunk’s way, “Oh, this one’s on you, buddy. We’ve got a hydraulic stabilizer out, and, last I checked, that was your area of expertise, not mine.” He turns back to the front window of the craft.

Hunk pulls his monitor back to himself before leaning forward and clamping a hand over his mouth. “Oh, no-” his stomach lurches again and Hunk barely avoids retching.  Klance groans, running a hand through his dark hair and rolling his eyes- a kind-of dark indigo-blue.

“Nope! Fix now, puke later, Hunk!” He refocuses intently on the screen. Pidge calls out to their team that they've lost the signal because of the shaking. “It’s interfering with our sensors!”

Klance drives the base of his palm into his temple, chastising his nauseous teammate as he returns to the screen in front of him. “Ah, nevermind, boys, thar she blows!"

Fatal last words, he thinks, standing in front of Iverson and taking his shit yet again.

"You are the most incompetent officers I've ever seen in this program, and what's more, the worst team! This kind of shit is what cost the lives of the men on the Kerberos mission!" Klance (literally) glowed in anger at that, their two souls dangerously close to splitting. Keith nearly punched Iverson, and Lance barely held them together and shoved a hand over the indignant mouth of his crewmate, Pidge. "Tomorrow'd better be the best run you've ever had or so help me god, you won't live to see the end of this program!" Klance winces at his harsh tone, flinching as spit falls on his face with the end of his sentence. "Get out of my sight," he growls.

"NEXT!"

That night, Klance and Hunk sneak out.

Hunk bites his fingernails, looking around nervously as he and Klance creep down the halls. "This is a bad idea- This- This right here? This is a really bad idea." Klance makes an offhanded, nonchalant noise in response, opening the roof door with a creak. Hunk winces at the sound, head whipping back to see if anyone heard.

A lone figure rests there, hunched intently over a bright screen of numbers. Large headphones engulf a good bit of their head. Klance tiptoes over to them, eyes widening in surprise at the figure being Pidge, then smiles impishly, reaching out one hand to yank off the headset. "You come up here to test your cryptid theories?" Pidge's head turns so fast it gives them whiplash, flailing in the air and losing their balance onto the concrete roof.

"Wha- I- No- What are you doing here? You're the one always complaining about your beauty sleep."

Klance mumbles to himself, "Keith's the one who never washes his goddamn face, but sure,"

Hunk looks at him weirdly, "Dude, what'd you say?"

"Uhh, nothing?"

"Sure, Jan."

"Anyway, what're you doing up here? Shouldn't you be, uhh... Doing... Something? Look, I'm not good at this, okay?" Klance rambles, reaching down to his waist to fiddle with something, but it's not there. He looks almost worried before seeming to remember something.

All this is observed by Hunk, resident goofball, and crusher on friend of Klance. He and Klance met on the first day at Garrison, and they've been roommates ever since. Granted, they were governmentally mandated roommates, but they got along happily besides! Hunk has a moderate anxiety disorder, and Klance is usually great with helping him out with it. (In the sims, he got really weirdly focused and couldn't deal with anyone's anxiety but his own, but otherwise he was really good about it.) Hunk suspected that Klance had some sort of behavioural disorder, as he displayed symptoms of ADHD, but found it difficult to remember social cues occasionally.

However, that didn't stop him from being an absolute living meme, and Hunk truly enjoyed being in his crush's friend's company.

"So, what're you even doing up here anyway?" Hunk is jolted out of his reverie by Klance peering over Pidge's shoulder at their code.

"You wouldn't understand. Or take me seriously, for that matter."

"Try me."

Pidge sighs, "We're not alone in this universe. Now, I know what that sounds like, with me being an avid cryptid fan, but, seriously." They grow somber. "I've been scanning the solar system, and picking up alien radio chatter."

Hunk shook his head, "What? So- so you mean, like, aliens? They exist?"

Klance looked both skeptical and enthused at the same time, if that was possible. He settled on enthused. "Ahh! Oh my gosh, really? That's so cool! Show me!" He slips on a pair of headphones, his eyes growing brighter as he hears the supposed '"alien radio chatter."

"They've been repeating one word: Voltron."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Awesome!"

Their nerding out is interrupted by a bright spot on the horizon. Klance snatches up a pair of binoculars of Pidge's, staring up at the dot of fire. "That ship is not one of ours!" He exclaims, Hunk panicking in the background. It crashes with an explosion behind a hill near the Garrison building.

"We've gotta go check it out!" Pidge jumps up, packing up their tech and running back to the roof door.

"I don't know..." Hunk mumbles.

"C'mon, Hunk! Think of it as a team-building excercise!" Klance dashes after them.

"Oh, this is the worst team-building excercise ever." Hunk grumbles, reluctantly following the pair.

 They set up shop on a cliff ledge overlooking the place where the ship crashed. Pidge has their tech out, graphing data from the crash; Klance looks at the crash site, overrun by med techs and officers, through binoculars; Hunk bites his nails worriedly behind them, occasionally commenting on their collected data.

"What the heck's even in that ship?" Klance asks himself, wincing as Keith has a different opinion than Lance. His- Their fingers glow, and hethey struggles to keep it together.

"Dude, you good?"

"Uhh..." They pull their sleeves over their fingers. "Yeah, all good!" Klance says, high-pitched with the lie, feeling the glow subside as they reassimilate. They- he's going to have to defuse soon. Staying fused after nearly unfusing isn't good for them- him.

"Sure, Jan."

Klance leans over Pidge's shoulder. "How's it coming on that security footage?"

Their eyes are trained completely on the screen. "Almost there... c'mon... got it!" The screen fills with a live feed of inside the ship.

[Shirogane struggles against restraints.]

'You've got to listen to me! Aliens are coming!'

 "Whoa." Klance jerks back from the screen. "That's Takashi Shirogane! The best pilot at the Garrison!" Pidge looks like they want to argue, but stays quiet as Klance continues his rant. "And is that Matt Holt? And they're not even going to listen to them? How dumb can you get?" Klance is shushed and the quartet trio returns to the screen.

"The subjects appear to have cyborg prosthetics, sir. One with an arm, the other a leg."

"Put them under until we find out what those things can do."

"No, no, don't put me under! You have to listen to me! Listen to me-"

[Shirogane's voice cuts off, strangled, as a med tech injects a syringe into his arm. Next to him, another humanoid flails wildly, being put under a similar procedure. The second subject is identified as Matt Holt, though he stays silent.]

Pidge looks up, wide-eyed, to Klance- except Klance isn't there, he's sprinting towards the ship. Pidge calls out to him, but he's too far. As Klance knocks out the guards with a few well-placed punches, Pidge settles for watching the live feed of the med room.

The med techs inside are taken out swiftly, and Klance lifts both of the patients up- seriously, this guy has the strength of two men- and hefts them out of the ship.

Pidge watches as they exit. Klance picks up a small, round item out of his pocket and lobs it in the opposite direction. A small explosion rocks the area there soon after. He makes his escape swiftly, grabbing an unused Jeep and tossing the pair in. "Pidge! Hunk! C'mon!" He hops in the driver's seat, and Pidge and Hunk race down the hill to meet them.

Sometime along the bumpy journey over sand dunes and rocks, Pidge realizes something. "Do you even know where you're going?" They shout over the motor, sand spraying their face.

He yells back something garbled that sounds like, "No, but Keith should!" and they know they've misheard.

"What?"

"I said, uh, I think I should!"

"Oh, okay!"

It's got to be three in the morning, the moon shining over the Arizona desert, when they finally reach a little middle-of-nowhere, dilapidated shack that looks like it's falling apart slowly under sand spray and wind erosion.

Pidge gives zero fucks, however, and drags Matt in, collapsing on a couch and passing out. Hunk does similarly on a loveseat. Klance situates Shiro on the floor, dragging a couple blankets onto him before going to Keith's tiny, cramped room and defusing.

Lance barely stumbles into Keith's arms before dragging them both into the tiny double trundle bed and tangling their legs together, kissing him sloppily once and passing out five seconds later.

Pidge wakes up with a crick in their neck and a taste like old lemons in their mouth. They yawn and open their eyes blearily, pinching sleep out of their eyes. They snatch up their glasses, smiling in relief at Matt's sleeping form, silhouetted by the desert sunrise. Shiro is curled up next to him, and their hands are clasped together like a lifeline. Pidge chooses to ignore that fact, looking around the small, shabbily furnished room. Something looks a little off, though, and it takes their sleep-addled brain a second to catch up to their surroundings.

Where's Klance?

Memories from last night come rushing in. How did Klance even know this was out here? Is it his?

Pidge shoves themself up forcefully from the couch they passed out on, wandering on unsteady legs down a tiny hallway that has three doors. One is ajar, grimy tile and porcelain visible in the dim light of a bulb on the ceiling that fizzles out soon after they turn it on. The other is a small closet, filled with supplies like rope, a ladder, and is that a hatchet?

The last room is firmly shut, and, upon further inspection, is locked with a rusty bolt used well beyond its years. A strong scent of coffee wafts from the room. This must be Klance's room. They knock, "Klance? Y'in there?"

Klance's voice shouts back at them, "Uh, yeah! Be out in a bit!" His voice seems off. It's too gravelly, too masculine, although that could be attributed to waking up.

Inside the room, Keith sighs in relief in tandem with Lance. "C'mon, Lance. Let's fuse." His voice is bored and tired, but the creases in his face light up when he says the word fuse. For them, it's the ultimate form of intimacy and closeness, something physical contact just can't compare to. Opening your mind, being vulnerable to your partner and sharing your entire self with them- it's perfect to them.

Lance makes grabby hands at Keith, pulling him close and giggling at his truly elegant squawk of surprise. Lance presses himself against Keith, and then they're not Lance and Keith, not two separate beings, they're one. Klance.

Klance shrugs on a black t-shirt and Lance's green army jacket, undoing the bolt on the door and stretching. He slips on a pair of flip-flops, trudging towards the kitchen and setting a pot of coffee. He mutters a greeting to Pidge, dutifully ignoring their questions about their location, and fries up some bacon and scrambled eggs. Toast? In the toaster. Plates? On the table. Hotel? Trivago.

Pidge pours the coffee on Klance's request, refilling the pot and handing out mugs to people. Hunk is shaken awake, and Shiro is woken up by the smell of coffee. He and Matt sit quietly in the corner, sipping coffee and watching their surroundings warily.

The strange congregation perches on various bits of furniture, eating quietly, when Pidge pipes up, "Okay. Enough's enough. Where are we?"

Klance sighs. "This belonged to my parents." It's not technically a lie.

Pidge raises an eyebrow, "I thought your parents were from Cuba. They pick you up every year."

Lie, lie, lie. Deflect, deflect. "Uh... a couple generations ago, the conquistadors came here and a couple eloped?"

"The conquistadors were Spanish."

"Fuck."

"It's mine," Shiro puts in. "I gave it to K- Klance before I 'went off gallivanting into space,' as your mother would put it." He smiles weakly.

Pidge rounds on him, "You know Klance? From where?"

"Hey, hey, let's calm down. We don't need to know all the answers at once," Matt puts in sleepily. Pidge practically vaults over the table to get to him.

"Matt! You're okay! What happened to your leg? I knew you were alive! They kept saying you were dead but I never believed them, oh my god, Matt, you're alive!"

"Yeah, I noticed." Matt says tiredly, giving Pidge a sloppy hug and ruffling their hair.

After breakfast, Klance puts their ragtag team into employ to... drumroll please... Clean the cabin! They all work together, and, with some music from Klance's iPod (all his stuff is purple, red or blue. It's creepy, almost. Like those colours mean something. -Pidge, making observations as they enter the rich life of a Garrison student.), they make quick work of it.

 After they've finished cleaning, the group drapes themselves over a variety of furniture. Pidge spies a sheet covering something in a corner. Unable to sate their curiosity otherwise, they walk up to it, yanking down the sheet and gasping at the board behind it. Pictures connected by strings and charts and graphs cover the corkboard. Star charts depict the exact date and time that Shiro and Matt arrived. Pictures and data readings of a giant mechanical thing litter its surface.

"Hey, Klance?"

"Yeah, Pidgeotto?"

"What's this?"

"Shit."

"Alright, everyone! Gather round, children, because it's time for Uncle Klance to tell you a story," Klance calls the group to sit in a semicircle around the closest chair to the corkboard. "Okay. So, I've been sneaking out at night." It's not technically a lie, because Keith had been sneaking out to the shack and Lance had entertained his "crackpot conspiracy theories." "But, while Hunk-a-burnin'-love over here thought I was sucking dick, I was actually coming out here. There's this crazy energy out here. It felt... Almost like it was calling me to search. So I did. And I found this cave with these weird lion carvings."

Pidge jumps up, "Do you think that that's Voltron? Weird energy, that could be aliens."

Hunk hums, considering. "Could be. Do you have proof?"

"Yeah. I've been tracking the energy. It's a tangible thing, like something on the periodic table. It's not any element I've ever seen before, though."

"Maybe I could build something to look for it, like a Voltron Geiger counter."

"Sure. The wavelength is so weird. It looks like this." Klance holds up a sheet of graphing paper with a seemingly random red line on it.

Matt snaps his fingers, "Give me that!" He snatches the paper, muttering an apology as he lifts it up to a picture of the cliffs near the cave. The red lines up with the outline of the cliffs almost exactly.

Hunk whistles. "Creepy, my man."

------

The group treks through craggy terrain made of crumbling reddish rock. Hunk and Pidge have a complicated setup of wires and junk parts going. Although the sound of the makeshift tech is annoying, the group follows with minimal complaint (apart from Klance, who says what Keith's thinking with Lance's attitude.). They approach a cave, Klance leading the way once he starts recognizing landmarks ("Ooh! I remember busting my ankle on that rock!" -Klance. "Dude, that's why you couldn't walk for a week?" -Hunk. "Oh, I thought he just got really fucked out." -Pidge. "Language!" -Shiro. "Yeah, watch your fucking language, kiddies." -Matt.)

The group stands at the mouth of the cave, peering down into the dank, dripping gloom. "Well!" Klance bounds forward, "This is the cave, so, if you'll excuse the miscellaneous coffee cups, various pieces of tech and other junk lying around, let's go!"

Matt shoves his hands into the pockets of his borrowed hoodie, looking at the cool carvings everyone is gawking over. "I don't see what's so special about carved rock," Matt says, wiping the dust and rock debris from one of the carvings of a lion.

A piercing noise, not unlike a sound effect in a show or movie, emits from the walls, and the carvings glow bright blue. The blue energy spiderwebs across the cavern floor like cracks, and that's about when the floor collapses and they all splash down into a lower level in the cavern.

In a gigantic blue bubble- the same colour as the carvings glowed- lays an equally gigantic blue mechanical lion. Klance hums and steps forward. Shiro gasps. "So this is what's been causing all this crazy energy out there."

Pidge gulps and rubs their eyes, "So this is it? This is the Voltron?"

Klance shrugs, "Must be-"

Five lions, a voice rumbles in their minds, deep and timeless. Five lions become one. Six souls, one bond. Deeper than life itself. The bond of the lion. Voltron.

"Did everyone else just see that?"

"Voltron is a robot. Voltron is a huge, huge, awesome robot!"

"And this is only one part of it. I wonder where the rest of them are!"

Klance steps forward, pressing his hands against the bubble, "Now, I wonder how we can get in here."

Matt shrugs. "Maybe you just have to knock?" He raps his fingers against the bubble, jumping back when it disappears and the lion's head moves down to him, opening its jaw. He laughs. "Well, alrighty then," smirks, and walks up the platform.

Klance glows blue and red behind him.

-------

"You," Klance says between gasping breaths. "Are the worst. Pilot. Ever!"

"Pidge has told me that you thought I was one of the best pilots at the Garrison, so, like..."

"Shut your fuuUCK!" Klance trips on his own feet in the cramped cockpit.

       Iverson and a lower-ranked officer stand on the roof, a pair of binoculars shared between them.

"What in the Sam Hill is that?"

"It appears to be a flying blue lion, sir."

Matt grins back at the others. "Isn't this awesome?"

Hunk makes a motion as if to vomit. "Make it stop! Make it stop!"

"I'm not doing anything. It's like it's on autopilot!"

The blue lion soared ever higher.

"MAKE IT STOP!"

"I just said, it's on autopilot!"

"Hey, what's that up ahead?"

"Holy crap- is that an alien ship?"

"They found us."

Matt tries to steer the lion as best he can. He feels a rumbling in his chest- like the lion is trying to speak with him- and he listens. "Guys the lion is talking to me. It says we need to fight the alien ship."

"Okay, you're crazy," Klance grumbles.

"What did it say, exactly?" Pidge asks, short of breath.

"I- It's not like it's saying words, more like feeding ideas into my brain, kind of."

Hunk spoke up. "Well, if this is the weapon they want, why don't we just, like, give it up? Then they'll leave us alone, right?"

Shiro glares at him. "You don't understand. These monsters spread like a plague throughout the galaxy, destroying everything in their path. They won't stop until everything is dead, and giving them this weapon won't help anyone."

 Everyone turns to look at Hunk.

"...Oh. Nevermind, then."

The Galra ship, which previously was lying cold and dead in space, opens fire at them as they breach the atmosphere.

"We have to get that ship out of here!" Pidge says frantically.

"Okay, I'll try!" Matt says, shooting lasers and avoiding recapture, moving away from Earth.

Inside the ship, a Galra officer faces a large screen. "Lord Zarkon, the escaped prisoners and their people found the lion. It attacked us and is heading out of the system."

On the screen, Zarkon's magnified face says, "Follow that Lion and alert all ships in the area to intercept. Capturing that Lion is your first and only priority."

"Yes, your majesty." The call ends, and the galra turns their head back. "FULL POWER AFTER THE LION!"

       The lion speeds away, the Galra ship in close pursuit. Hunk bites his nails. "Oh, no!"

In front of the lion, a huge circle of swirling bluish-purplish light opens up in front of them. "I think the lion wants us to go through there!"

Pidge furrows their brow, "Do we know where it goes? Matt?"

Matt defers to Shiro. "I don't know. Shiro, you're the highest-ranked officer here. What do we do?"

Shiro picks at his cuticles. "Um- Okay. Whatever's happening, the Lion probably knows more than we do. If we don't listen to it, we might die in this ship. I say we follow what it thinks, but we're the only humans up here. We're a team now."

Matt nods at him, shoving the controls forward and blasting through the air to get to the wormhole. Klance shifts nervously.

"Guess we're all ditching class tomorrow."

next chapter

#Purple Comes From Red And Blue #klance #fusion au #voltron #fanfiction #voltron fanfiction

[galunabeth]

I only slept three hours last night and its been hmmm 19 hours since I last consumed an item of food send help

#it be me #my meds were interfering a bit last night #but also i was just being stupid #tw but my housemate was sent to the hospital after cutting herself real bad #and so i was also waiting up a little to hear back what was happening to her #not that i had to #but i wanted to yaknow #we were alright friends before we moved in together so its tough watching her go through thjs #but i feel like im not close enough to her to actually do anything to help #all i can do is be here #she doesnt want me to see her when shes down #anyway it threw me off my rhythm #not that im blaming her more blaming myself for not being able to do more to help her out #all i could do was wash the blood out of her pants and mop her bathroom floor #and now today my adhd hasnt wanted to let me eat anything #so thats been fun too #tw mental health #tw ed stuff #idk if its actually an eating DISORDER but its sure disordered eating #if you get to the bottom of these tags then man im so sorry this is for the void

[lilacmoon83]

Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Sorry, I meant to have this up on Tumblr last night, but this site was not cooperating.

Chapter 148: The Final Battle, Pt 1

Emma Swan's eyes snapped open and she looked around at the stark white walls of her room in the asylum.

Since the day Ms. Rocha had taken her book and destroyed it, Emma had been here. She had been so disturbed when the book was destroyed that the state had institutionalized her and this became her life. Mundane days spent in a tiny, dark room with pills forced down her throat and Ms. Rocha berating her about what a delusional little freak she was.

The door opened, revealing her bony silhouette and Emma shuddered at her cruel smile. She really didn't know how long it had been since that day she lost the book and all hope of finding her parents, but Emma knew she was grown and any hope of that was gone. Perhaps her parents, or the people she thought her parents were in the book, really never existed, after all. Maybe what Ms. Rocha said was true. Her real parents were probably criminals on the run or drug addicts that dumped her like trash on the side of the road. She clutched her baby blanket, as the woman came into the room.

"It's time for your meds, Emma," Yzma hissed, as she glared down at the young woman.

"I don't want to take anymore pills...they don't help," Emma replied.

"You don't get a choice in the matter," Yzma snapped, as the orderlies came in. Emma screamed and fought, as the pills were forced down her, while the woman she knew as Ms. Rocha watched with smug glee on her wrinkled face.

~*~

Snow and David held hands, as they slowly moved through the streets of their town. Many places were boarded up and there were very few souls on the streets, like something akin to a ghost town. They could see a few people peering out at them from some of the buildings, but once they made eye contact, the people stopped looking, like they were afraid.

"What has she done to our town?" Snow wondered.

"I don't know, my darling...but we will fix this," he assured, as they continued on. They reached the corner and saw the diner in the distance, but noticed that the sign no longer said Granny's. Instead, it read Slade's.

"Okay...the Slades own Granny's. Now I know this whole place has been warped," he said.

"Villains are in control again," Snow said, as she pointed to the place where the Rabbit Hole should have been. Instead, the sign now read Ratigan's.

"Ratigan...didn't I arrest him a long time ago?" David asked, trying to recall it. She nodded.

"Yes...when Emma was fifteen. Remember, he was experimenting and trying to distribute mind-control drugs," she reminded.

"Yeah...I remember now. If he's out of prison…" he started to say, but they jumped then, as a bullet ricocheted at their feet. They looked ahead of them, only to find Sa'luk there, wearing a Sheriff's badge on his hip.

"Trespassers will be detained," he hissed.

"That badge doesn't belong to you," David hissed back, as he unsheathed his sword. Sa'luk chuckled.

"I've been looking forward to a rematch, Charming. After you did this to me," he said, pointing at his missing eye.

"I've been dying to repay the favor by carving up that pretty face," Sa'luk growled.

"So you have your memories," Snow stated, as she pulled an arrow from her quiver.

"Yes, the Black Fairy allowed me to retain them, as my hatred of your entire bloodline will serve her well," he said.

"David...I don't think there's magic here," Snow whispered, as she was unable to summon any power from the chalice.

"Figures...the Black Fairy probably took it all for herself. Guess we'll have to do this the old fashioned way," he said, as he poised his sword in strike position, as Sa'luk charged him. David charged at him in response and immediately went about relying on his agility. Unfortunately, despite his size, he was able to keep up with the Prince and their blades clashed furiously. Snow moved slowly about, trying to find an opening, but it was far too risky with Charming so close to the hulking man.

She gasped when the man hammered his large fist into her husband's back, right between his shoulder blades and he dropped to the ground. The man brought his arm up and his blade down, but David kicked his legs out from under him and he landed flat on his back. David was quick to his feet, but so was Sa'luk, as they resumed their duel. Onlookers from Ratigan's had come out to watch the spectacle and Snow threaded an arrow, as she saw a few shady characters start to move in.

"Don't even think about it," Snow warned, as she fired a warning arrow at their feet and threaded another.

"You gonna take us all on, beautiful?" one hissed and she recognized him as one of Sa'luk's few remaining cohorts from the forty thieves.

"Yeah...there's much more entertaining things we could do with you," Keith, the Sheriff of Nottingham commented.

"Yeah...bet this one's a real wildcat on her back," a very creepy, fidgety man drawled, as he slithered toward her. Snow glowered at him and extracted the dagger from her belt, before throwing it at him. The dagger hit him in the leg, hitting the femoral artery just right. The fidgety man screamed in agony, as he collapsed to the ground.

"You...you little bitch! You've crippled me!" he slurred, as Ratigan himself burst out into the street and looked at the spectacle. But Snow wasn't intimidated by anything of them and threaded another arrow, as a couple of the men tried to stop the bleeding with towels.

"Anyone else?" she threatened.

"Not even your arrows are gonna stop me, girl," Ratigan seethed, as he advanced on her.

"Woman," she corrected, as she fired an arrow, but he surprised her by catching it and snapping it in two.

"You'll have to do better than that, Princess," he hissed. She gasped, as she heard David cry out and watched in horror, as Sa'luk wrapped his large hand around her husband's neck, before lifting him off his feet.

"Better worry about yourself," Keith hissed, as they closed in around her.

"The Black Fairy wants them alive," Sa'luk warned, as he choked the Prince.

"Which is a pity since I'd love to snap your pretty neck," the hulking man hissed back.

"Oh, she'll be alive when we're done," Ratigan hissed, as they surrounded her. Snow un-threaded her arrow and held it up, preparing to defend herself.

"Just a bit broken," Keith leered, but he was stopped short when several arrows fired rapidly from somewhere above them, expertly wounding, though not fatally, all but Ratigan and Keith.

"What the hell?!" Keith cried, as he and Ratigan looked around, only to find a girl on the rooftop of the bar.

"Eva!" Snow called in relief, as she reloaded her crossbow.

"You want to play too, little girl?" Keith leered.

"How about you play with someone a little more your size?" a male voice said, as he surprised Keith and put him in a headlock. He put his sword to the other man's throat and Snow smiled again.

"Leo," she said in relief, he shoved Keith away and leveled his blade at Ratigan.

"Get the hell away from my mother," he growled, as the bar owner wisely backed away.

"David!" Snow called, as they rushed to help him. Sa'luk laughed evilly, as David started to lose consciousness.

"You know, I doubt the Black Fairy will be too upset if I rid us of him," Sa'luk growled.

"NO!" Snow cried, but the man cried out in pain, as Fandral surprised him from behind and put him in a headlock, shocking the man.

"You are strong...I'll give you that. But you're no trouble for an Asgardian," Fandral boasted, as he overpowered him and forced him into submission, as Xander leveled his gun at the brute.

"Even you're not immune to bullets to the head, Sa'luk...just give me a reason," Xander growled.

"And if that doesn't get you...I'll make the other eye match," Regina added, as she held a sword aimed at his other eye.

"This is far from over, Charmings! This is not your town any longer. We have a new Mayor and a new Order! And you all will fall," Sa'luk warned, as he retreated.

"Oh David…" Snow cried, as he coughed and tried to get air, as she cradled his head. He breathed and reached up to caress her face.

"I'm okay…" he promised, as Xander and James helped him to his feet. Snow put her arms around him and then they opened their arms for the twins.

"We were so worried…" Eva cried.

"We're okay," Snow promised.

"But Hyde is still alive, so we assumed that Jekyll is too," Leo said.

"That's a story, but you can rest assured that Jekyll will never be bothering us again," David replied.

"He's right, but we're surprised that everyone has their memories. Aladdin couldn't send us back, because he said the curse had been cast again," Snow said.

"That's a story too," Xander said.

"Yes and I'm afraid not everyone has retained their memories," Rose added. Snow looked at the twins.

"It's Emma…" Eva said.

"Yeah, like we said it's a story, but maybe we should get off the streets," James suggested.

"He's right...let's get back to base," Aphrodite said.

"Base?" David asked curiously.

"Yep...welcome to the resistance, son," Xander said. Snow and David exchanged a glance and then followed their family and friends to the docks.

"The cannery? This is the base?" David asked.

"It's a bit rundown now, but it's all we've got," James replied.

"Yes...we'll explain everything inside and maybe you two can tell us how Hyde is still alive, but Jekyll's no longer a problem," Regina added, obviously curious about that story. They nodded and followed them inside.

~*~

"Madam Mayor...we have a problem," Sa'luk reported, as he burst into her office. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, as the sweaty brute she had entrusted to police the town invaded her office.

"And I suppose you're not talking about your smell?" she quipped.

"They're here," he stated.

"I know they're here...I've already heard all about your incompetence and how they defeated you again. Please remind me why I've decided to keep you around," Fiona said sharply.

"If that Asgardian hadn't interfered, I would have been able to come here and dropped the Prince's corpse at your feet," he replied sharply in return. She smirked.

"Yes...it must be bothersome to you to know that there is someone that has superior physical strength than you," she goaded, as she picked up her phone and dialed a number.

"Get over here," she snapped and in a puff of yellow smoke, Yzma appeared in her office.

"What's going on? I heard those rebels were making another spectacle in town. Too much for you, Sheriff?" Yzma goaded.

"Bite your tongue, you old hag," Sa'luk hissed.

"Enough!" Fiona snapped.

"They're here…" she stated. Yzma clenched her fists.

"How is that possible? You said if we cast the curse before Snow and Charming returned that it would ensure there would be no interference from them," Yzma reminded.

"I know what I said!" Fiona snapped.

"They obviously found their own loophole to find a way here. Portals and beans are only the obvious ways to travel the realms. Though less obvious, there are other ways. But I believe there is much more going on here," Fiona replied, as she gazed out the window.

"What could it be? Essentially, we have won. Emma Swan is nothing more than a shell of her former self with no memories of being raised by her loving parents," Yzma reminded.

"Yes...but the curse should have stolen more than just her memories. Yet everyone else has retained theirs and thus gave birth to their little resistance," Fiona said.

"But we have all the magic. Not even Rumple retained his," Yzma reminded.

"Which only holds true as long as the curse remains in tact. If it's broken, then everything returns to normal. No...he did something. He may have been stripped of his magic and they all are living in squalor. They seem powerless, but that's only the image he wants us to have," Fiona realized, as she opened her drawer and took out the vial that had once contained the blood her son had provided for them.

She examined it, noticing there was still a tiny drop in the bottom and waved her hand over it. She snarled, as it revealed the vial was protected by a concealment spell.

"Why would Rumple place a concealment spell on the Queen's blood?" Yzma questioned.

"Because this isn't the Queen's blood at all!" Fiona snapped, as she canceled his spell and the drop of blood glowed with pinkish magic.

"This is Snow and Charming's mixed blood…" she realized in horror.

"What does that mean?" Sa'luk questioned.

"It means that my son betrayed me and wove true love into my perfect curse!" she cried, as she threw the glass vial angrily against the wall, shattering it.

"We can still win this if we get rid of Emma Swan's belief permanently," Yzma reminded. Fiona took a deep breath.

"You're absolutely right. Her parents will come for her and we must see that she not only no longer believes, but that she makes her way out of Storybrooke...forever," the Black Fairy replied. Yzma smirked deviously.

"Yes...if she leaves town, she'll never regain her memories and the curse shall never be broken, no matter what those idiots do. And I have just the thing," the wrinkled hag hissed. Fiona smirked.

"In her current state of mind, she thinks she's been locked up all her life. Perhaps offering her freedom and a cushy life in Boston will do the trick," she agreed, as she turned to Sa'luk.

"Keep the Charmings away from the asylum at all costs. Kill them if you must," she ordered and he bowed deeply.

"Yes Madam Mayor," he said deviously, as he left. Fiona returned to gazing out the window.

"I have not come this far to lose everything now. You will not defeat me so easily, son," she hissed under her breath.

~*~

Snow and David followed their family and friend into the cannery, observing most of the townspeople and their families living in clusters around the cannery, sleeping on cots and sleeping bags. Fortunately, being that they really couldn't have a fire inside the building, everyone was kept warm with space heaters and warm clothing. It was almost like it had been when they were living in the woods when they were taking back the Kingdom, except they had still had the luxury of electricity and plumbing here. Still, it definitely was not ideal and their town had been completely overrun by anyone willing to work for the Black Fairy and uphold her regime.

"Mommy! Daddy!" Summer called, as she ran toward them from her place with Granny. They beamed at her, as David scooped her up and they showered her with kisses. Granny gladly brought the baby over and Snow felt tears fill her eyes, as she held their son again. There had been a moment there when she had taken the sleeping curse that she wondered if that was the last time she would see him as a baby. Thankfully, it had only been a few days since that awful day that Jekyll had enforced his ultimatum. He was gone forever and if they could defeat the Black Fairy, things could finally be set right again.

"You beat the bad man, didn't you?" Summer asked. David smiled.

"Of course they did. I missed you too," Henry said, as they enveloped him in their hug too.

"Oh sweetheart, we missed you too and we're going to get your Mom back," Snow promised. He nodded.

"We did, peanut...he's never going to try and hurt Mommy again," he promised.

"I think the burning question on everyone's mind is how?" Paul asked anxiously.

"Yeah...Hyde didn't fall over dead, so we assumed Jekyll was still a problem," Leo said bluntly and then glanced at the former warden.

"Not that we were wishing that on you," he clarified.

"No offense taken, young one. I'll admit, I am curious myself as to whether my other half is still a problem," Hyde drawled.

"He's not...and it's quite a story," David said. Snow smiled.

"It is…but one we would be glad to tell," she added.

"When I arrived to wake Snow, she was in the glass coffin again, in the same place she was more than thirty years ago. But she wasn't alone," he said.

"Jekyll was there I'm guessing," Leo said.

"Yes, but he wasn't the only one," David replied, as he looked to Rose Red.

"We had the displeasure of meeting your Uncle John. It seems he's taken up residence in our Enchanted Forest and when someone informed him that Snow was in the forest, he thought it was you," David said to Rose. She looked shocked.

"Oh that horrible man," Rose lamented.

"When I got there, Jekyll was convincing them that she was Snow and should allow him to take her in exchange for one of his baton weapons. Needless to say, I spoiled that little deal," David said.

~*~

"Take her...do whatever you want with her. I want that weapon," he said, as he prepared to take it from the doctor when they heard the sound of thundering hooves pounding toward them. Jekyll seethed, as a white horse emerged carrying Charming with it.

"You!" the King cried, as David looked at him strangely. He had never seen this man before and dismounted his horse.

"You are part of the reason Rose Red was able to defeat me!" the King shouted, as his men all drew their swords. Realization dawned in David's eyes and he rolled them.

"He thinks you're Fandral," Aladdin said, as he, Cassim, and Jasmine arrived too.

"I told you...this is Snow White, which means he's not Fandral. But he's just as much of a thorn in my side as Fandral was in yours," Jekyll hissed.

"Save it, you sick bastard, and get the hell away from my wife," David demanded. Jekyll growled and fired the weapon at David, but the Prince caught the attack with the Chalice, as they dueled in a deadlock. All bystanders were forced to dodge the power of the device, as it ricocheted off the chalice. Aladdin used his new found magic to deflect one headed straight toward him. It bounced back and struck Jekyll head on. The doctor cried out and trembled in pain, as the device snapped in two from the blast, rendering it useless. David smirked and put the Chalice down, as he made purposeful strides toward Snow. The King foolishly stood in his way and he drew his sword.

"I either go around you or through you...it's your choice, Your Majesty," David growled. Sir Hiss scrambled away like a coward and the King stepped aside fearfully as well. He looked so terrified of David that they all wondered if he'd might start sucking his thumb and crying for his mommy.

David looked at her through the glass and lifted the cover away, before tossing it aside. He was having Deja Vu, as he gazed down at her with reverence. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. A wave of rainbow light washed over all of them and the entire land, as their powerful love returned light to the darkness.

Snow took a starved breath of air and he beamed down at her, as she reached up and put her hand to his handsome face. He took her hand and helped her sit up with his hand on her back, as they stared at each other passionately.

"You found me…" she said. He smiled and lifted her into his arms off the coffin bed and put her on her feet, but kept her pressed flush against him.

"Did you ever doubt I would?" he asked.

"Never...I will never doubt our love," she purred, as she nuzzled her nose against his. He smiled and kissed her again. Snow mewled into his kiss, letting herself be lost in him again.

~*~

"I am so sorry you had to deal with my Uncle John," Rose apologized. They smiled.

"He was nothing we couldn't handle," Snow assured.

"And his tantrums were actually entertaining," David added.

"So what happened then? How did you get rid of Dr. Creepyl?" Leo quipped, making his parents chuckle.

"I suppose that probably is the best part of the story," Snow agreed, as she continued telling them.

~*~

"Not that my husband has to explain anything to you, because I know that everything he does is for me and our family," she said, as she looked up at him fondly.

"If you think you've won, then I encourage you to think again, my dear Snow. I encourage you save your beloved a lot of pain and come with me now," Jekyll growled.

"Oh bloody hell, you irritating wanker...give it up already! Have you forgotten that they have a genie on their side now?" Aladdin interjected.

"David...we have enough wishes to go around when Jasmine and my father take the lamp. Say the word...and this idiot is done," he said. Snow and David exchanged a glance, knowing the wish had to be worded carefully.

"Taking the easy way out? I'd expect more, even from you, Charming," Jekyll goaded. Snow rolled her eyes and cuddled close to David, as he smiled down at her. They were both having a lot of trouble keeping their attention on this situation and off each other.

"I wouldn't be so smug, Dr. Jerkyll. I happen to have it on very good authority that a certain God of Dreams is very upset with you. How have you been sleeping?" she questioned. He frowned and was silent. She smirked.

"I thought so...Morpheus is seeing to it that you're plagued by nightmares for meddling in the dream realm like you have," Snow said.

"Really?" David whispered to her. She nodded.

"Mmm...Morpheus is highly offended by the doctor and his entire existence," Snow explained. David smirked.

"That doesn't bode well for your future," the prince commented.

"Save your feeble attempts to alarm me. It won't work...I've bested you at every turn. This time shall be no different," the doctor said.

"Yes...you may not be my insolent niece, but you look just like her! And I refuse to be defeated by such again!" the King bellowed.

"Who are you again?" Snow asked and the childish man stomped his feet.

"I am King John...and this is my Kingdom now! You can't have it back!" he shouted.

"Rose Red's uncle," David whispered to her and realization dawned on her.

"Poor Rose," she commented, as the irate King stomped around making demands to his soldiers. But they seemed reluctant to make any move in the presence of a genie. At the moment, all she wanted was to be rid of the doctor for good and help their friends, before going home. Enough was enough. Aladdin was offering them an out and she decided it was worth the risk. After all, she basically had sanctioned permission from Morpheus to do whatever necessary to rid all the realms of Dr. Jekyll's existence.

"Okay...you know what, make the wish. Morpheus is counting on us to get rid of him since he can't and if anyone deserves easy right now...it's us," she said. He grinned and kissed her.

"Genie...my second wish is give Dr. Jekyll exactly what he deserves," David said. Aladdin smirked and his hand glowed, as he outstretched toward the doctor. But when nothing happened, they were all puzzled. The doctor smirked smugly and chuckled.

"Well, that was certainly a waste of a wish," he goaded. Snow's brow furrowed.

"I don't understand…" she uttered, as she looked at Aladdin. But the newly minted Genie also looked at a loss.

"I think the answer is simple enough. I'm still here, because I deserve to finally get what I want," he growled, as he grabbed her arm.

"Like hell…" David growled back, as he watched his wife punch him and then knee him in the groin. He groaned in pain and started to advance on her, but she swiped him with David's sword, drawing blood on his face. The doctor dabbed his hand against the cut and glowered at her.

"Oh, I cannot wait to teach you your place, dear Snow…" he growled, as he reached out toward her. Charming moved to intercept him, but Snow gasped and he realized he wouldn't have to. The doctor looked perplexed, as he seemed to be suddenly slowly disintegrating into particles.

"What...what is this?!" Jekyll hissed, as he looked at the Genie, but Aladdin only offered him a smug smirk.

"Look!" Jasmine called, as they witnessed the chalice now aglow with whitish green light. In the place where Snow's glass coffin was stood their sapling, whole once again.

"But how?" David asked in awe.

"It was never really destroyed. The Chalice absorbed the dust from it," Aladdin replied.

"How do you know that, son?" Cassim inquired. Aladdin shrugged.

"I'm not sure I understand it either. I just...know. Phenomenal cosmic powers, I guess," he retorted.

"Charming...look!" Snow called, as they watched their sapling grow into a beautiful, giant tree in the spot where he had now awakened her from a sleeping curse twice. The greenery sprouted to life and beautiful, luscious flowers in multiple colors bloomed brilliantly. They looked at each other and then back up at the tree in awe.

"In all my years...never have I seen anything like this," Cassim mentioned. Aladdin smirked and nodded.

"From what I'm getting, no genies have either," he replied.

"It's incredible," Jasmine uttered, as she gazed up at it.

"And the wish didn't do this?" she asked him. He shook his head.

"No...the Chalice is doing this. The wish just activated all of it. When David asked for Jekyll to basically face justice, the wish chose to use the Chalice to do it," he replied.

"No...NO…" Jekyll cried, as his legs disintegrated and his particles floated toward the tree and disappeared at the base of it.

"What's...happening to me?" he cried.

"Justice," David said sternly.

"You're getting exactly what you deserve," Snow added, as he held her close.

"This...can't be happening?!" he screamed, as he disintegrated entirely and became apart of the dirt around the tree.

"He didn't become part of our tree, did he?" David asked wearily. Aladdin was silent for a moment, like he was listening to something only he could hear, and then laughed.

"No...he's not part of the tree. He's actually not exactly dead either, technically," he replied.

"What does that mean?" Snow asked nervously.

"He's sort of like food for the tree now," Aladdin replied, as he broke down into snickers. David looked at him.

"Hold on...are you saying he's like fertilizer now?" the prince asked. Aladdin chuckled.

"More or less," the genie confirmed. Snow grinned, as she looked at the contagious grin on his face.

"Oh, I love that!" he exclaimed and she yelped, as he picked her up and spun her around. She giggled, as he planted kisses on her lips and cheek.

~*~

"Okay...wait, so Dr. Jekyll became...fertilizer?" Leo asked in an amused tone. David grinned.

"Basically," he answered, as there were barks and snickers of laughter.

"That's awesome!" Leo exclaimed.

"Yeah...wait until Em finds out. She'll have some good one liners for that one," Eva added, as she frowned, remembering the predicament her older sister was currently in.

"So...where is Emma?" Snow asked.

"Yeah...and I thought this was a curse. I'm surprised that everyone still has their memories," David added.

"Not everyone…" Regina said.

"And I think the reason the rest of us do has to do with a bit of deception on Gold's part," she added, as their attention turned to him.

"Fiona needed something to help her cast the curse with the last shard missing. I gave her blood from someone who had cast the curse before. She assumed it was Regina's," he stated.

"But you gave her ours?" David asked, clearly impressed and he nodded curtly.

"So that means true love was woven into the curse again and Emma can break it, right?" Snow asked, with a smile.

"Yes...but therein lies the problem. While we have our memories, the curse did succeed in taking Emma's memories. Fiona and Yzma have also used their wands to soak up all the magic in Storybrooke. Only they can use it," Regina replied.

"Yzma?" David asked.

"That's where things get really hairy. She's a former dark fairy," Leo explained.

"Yes, she was once an apprentice to our very own blue flea over here," Gold added, earning him a glare from Reul Ghorm, whom had been awakened from her coma with the enacting of the curse.

"Yzma deceived me. I didn't know her true history," Blue said in her own defense.

"Her history? She wasn't born a fairy?" David asked.

"No...like Jekyll, her other half ripped her out and banished her to the Enchanted Forest. He is a prominent Inca God known as Virococha, making Yzma immortal too. When she arrived in our land, a thousand years ago, she immediately sought dark power and did her stint as the third Dark One," Rumple revealed.

"Wait...the third Dark One? As in the one that killed Tigerlily's parents?" Snow questioned. He nodded.

"But I thought that Dark One went by a different name? And how is she still alive if she was the Dark One?" David asked.

"Yes, Xanetakos was merely her alias. As for surviving her stint as the Dark One, she was already immortal and her other half is still alive," Rumple answered.

"Yes...killing Tigerlily's parents ensured that she would not be destroyed. As you have probably learned, the truest loves have the power to eradicate the darker half of a being without killing the good half," Aphrodite added. They nodded.

"So...she's the immortal dark half of some God, was a dark one, and a fairy. But where did she come from?" Snow asked.

"That's where it gets even more twisted," Eva replied.

"Yes, apparently, after Blue ousted her from the fairies, she teamed up with the Black Fairy. They conspired to keep the two of you apart or keep you from...having kids. Because not only are you and David dangerous to their kind, but your children are too," Regina explained.

"And Emma is the Savior," David realized. She nodded.

"Since I know from experience that keeping you two apart is impossible, they obviously didn't get the job done. So somehow, Fiona saw to it that Yzma made her way to the Land Without Magic," Regina continued.

"Yeah...I guess she was one of Emma's social workers that she didn't talk about," Leo added.

"Yes...it was obviously something she didn't want to talk about, but she did tell us that this woman was a nightmare and almost destroyed her belief," Regina told them.

"Yes...and she came very close. She tried destroying the book. Had she succeeded, Emma might have never come to the hospital in Boston to find you," Hook added. Snow and David were stunned by this and exchanged a glance.

"She never told us about this particular social worker," Snow recalled.

"You know Emma...she hates talking about that time. And not even she knew this woman was actually working for the Black Fairy and from our land," Eva reminded.

"So...if Emma has no memories now…" David started to say. Regina nodded.

"Yzma has been charged with destroying her belief again. She doesn't remember any of us. She thinks she's been institutionalized her entire life from what we gather, because of her belief and the book," the former Queen answered.

"Oh Gods…" Snow cried, as David squeezed her hand.

"We'll get her to remember, Snow...I promise," he assured.

"That will not be easy...as you know, none of us have any magic," Rumple warned.

"Doesn't matter...we're not going to let this old hag do this to our little girl," David retorted.

"Be advised though, we don't have a lot of time. If Emma's belief is destroyed, then the consequences to all of us are...catastrophic," Rumple stated.

"Rumple...what do you mean by that?" Belle inquired.

"Suffice to say...if Emma stops believing and they get her to destroy the book...then we all cease to exist," he answered. That statement fell over all of them like a lead blanket. They had faced high stakes before, but never ones quite like these.

"This is it then...this is the final battle. It will determine everything," Snow realized.

"It will...but we're going to win this. We need to get into that asylum," David replied.

"Fortunately, we've been working on a plan and it's time to put it into action," Regina agreed, as they began to get ready for the battle ahead...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #OC Charmings #The Final Battle #The Black Fairy #Rumbelle #CS #Dashing Rose #Daddy Charming #Mama Snow #Yzma #Outlaw Queen #season 6 AU #OUAT reimagined #romance #adventure #finding you always

[ulfwolf]

Into The Light -- Musing 196

The light perceives nothing but light —The boy unfurls

It set out as a ripple in my feet and rose from there. Up through my calves, up through my thighs, my groin, my stomach, my lungs and chest and throat and into and through and out of my head like a glorious geyser erupting.

In my journal I later descried this as an “orgasm of the soul”.

Yes, I am well aware that the word “orgasm” is somewhat tainted (carries some not necessarily desired baggage) and perhaps demeaning and should have no business encroaching upon a spiritual experience but the fact remains: that is what it felt like: a rush that rose and roamed past and a thousand-fold outdistanced its physical counterpart.

No, I am not saying that there is such a thing as a spiritual orgasm, I’m just saying that this is what it felt like—my kneejerk description once I had a chance to catch my breath and look that the experience with less orgasmic eyes.

Building up to this—

The year is 1968. The month is August. My fiancé is still off in London and by this time (she’s already a good month overdue to return) not being very faithful (was my guess—which turned out to be the case); and me, I am hitchhiking from one Swedish town to the next trying to find a job, as in trying to find a firm that not only deploys the computer system that at this point I am pretty expert at (as an operator), but also has an opening and likes what they see in me. A daunting and so far unsuccessful task.

The thing was that I had recently given my notice at the firm I had worked at for the last couple of years because I was going to France to be a poet (I had the notion that I had been Baudelaire in a previous life, so I was in effect going home—or so ran my reasoning, or what masqueraded as reasoning—I think more rational minds call it imagination).

My plan to return to my Baudelaire roots ran into some serious trouble, however—as if me not speaking even a little bit of French wasn’t trouble enough. As it happened, this was the very summer that the Paris students picked to revolt and the bus company that was to bring me home to Paris cancelled the trip and refunded me my ticket. No way they were going to France under these unstable circumstances, not recommended at all.

So, here I am, fiancé-less and stranded in Sweden without a job (my firm—all too happy to see the back of me since they had no use for dead French poets, apparently, and would not take me back) and by now also without a place to live.

So, I headed for Gothenburg (second largest city in Sweden). Gray day. Not warm. Dreary town. No jobs to be had.

I figured Malmo (third largest city) next, and hitched a ride with a trucker going in that direction. He could take me as far as Helsingborg, he said, a smaller town about thirty miles north of Malmo.

“You don’t want to go to Malmo,” he tells me me as we approach his hometown, and went on to tell me that Helsingborg was the much nicer town. Friendlier. Not sure where it ranked size-wise, but I took him at his word, and decided to try my luck there.

Still no jobs though. But the guy at the employment agency and I got along really well. Recently divorced he needed someone to talk to, so he treated me to a nice lunch and then offered me to stay at his place (a small house by the beach a few miles north of Helsingborg—a place called Viken) for the night, perhaps longer. Say, until I found a job. I gladly accepted.

He was a good and very kind man (see my “Leif the Kind” fragment in this section).

As a matter of fact, a few days later he did find me a job. Not a computer job, but as a nurse at the then Santa Maria Hospital, which was a psychiatric hospital catering for the less fortunate, mentally. Would I want it?

I knew nothing about nursing the mentally disturbed, but that, he said, was not a problem. The hospital would train me in what I needed to know.

It wasn’t like I was expected to treat anyone, he said, just look after them and clean the floors. Sort of lunatic-sitting with grown-ups in the building is how I understood it.

Well, beggars can’t be choosers and all that. Again, I gladly accepted.

And yes, the hospital did provide training (of sorts—see the “Crash Course” fragment in this section); and not only that, it also provided a decent salary and room and board as part of the deal.

By now, I’m a happy beggar.

So began my late summer at Santa Maria.

Now, an important part of this story is that at this time I have begun a quest. For real this time. And not a petty one either: No, the grand one, the one for truth. Truth (capital T).

And as it turned out, that hospital—of all places—was the perfect place for such a search, as the story will tell.

I cannot pinpoint when I, purely intuitively, conceived, or decided, that the capital-T Truth, the one we’re all looking for, and have been since time immemorial, is that truth that is proven by everything. By every single thing; it seemed obvious to me. Anything short of everything would not be the ultimate truth, would it?

Truth, to be ultimate, so my thinking went, in order to be the one and only superior, capital-T Truth, must prove everything, and must be proven by everything; or it would not be ultimate. Stood to reason, I figured. So, that decided, I set out to gather evidence.

What would prove the Truth? Who was to decide? Well, I was. By what criteria? By my own intuitive sense of what the Truth is. Hold up in court? Doubt it. Right for me? Absolutely.

It is a strange fact—and I believe it is a fact—that the spirit can tell the fake from the real. The spirit, once it actually takes the time to look, does know. As in you know when someone is lying to you. As in you know what is right and what is wrong. In your heart of hearts, you know. That’s the thing. You know.

And I felt that I would know truth when I saw it. So, as I said, I set out to find it, gathering evidence.

A smile—Truth.

A river—Truth.

A polluted river—Not Truth.

A flower—Truth.

The sunrise—Truth.

The sunset—Truth.

A tender kiss—Truth.

Greed—Not Truth.

A pen that works really well—Truth.

That particular cloud—Truth.

A seagull—Truth.

Jealousy—Not Truth.

Harm—Not Truth.

Happiness—Truth.

Hashish—Not Truth.

Friends—Truth.

A new toothbrush—Truth.

A broken mirror—Truth.

Seven years of bad luck—Not Truth.

A really good meal—Truth.

Imagination—Truth.

Delusion—Not Truth.

Beer—Not Truth.

Music—Truth.

Poetry—Truth.

Alarming News—Not Truth.

Grief—Truth.

Et cetera, et cetera.

No, I didn’t write these things down; rather, I placed them inside an imaginary frame, upon an imaginary canvas, and I knew that when I had collected all the evidence I needed to collect, the picture inside the frame would then come alive. And alive, it would be the Truth. This was another intuitive know, but there you have it. So, I continued my gathering of evidence.

An amazing incident provided a huge piece to his puzzle, provided a large Truth.

His name was Kaiser, or that is what he was called (see the fragment “Kaiser” in this section). He was a patient at Santa Maria, and had been there ever since the end of the Second World War, when he had been transferred from one of the German concentration camps to this Swedish hospital.

Kaiser had not spoken a word since his arrival—hence he was deemed seriously mentally ill. In fact, or so I was told, Kaiser had not even smiled since his arrival—more grist for the mentally-ill mill.

All day, he would shuffle around the ward (never lifting his feet to walk), head bowed down, face set in a permanent frown (not unlike President Nixon’s, come to think of it). Every now and then he would cast a furtive glance in your direction, or at someone else, then he’d shuffle on, on his endless, shuffling way.

He was considered un-reachable as a human being. Beyond help, really. And the only treatment he received was two large daily doses of those drugs that mental hospitals give patients to make them more tractable, and which makes keeping things (like floors) clean so much easier.

One day I decided (again, intuitively) to bring my guitar to the ward and sing for them. The head nurse saw nothing wrong with that, and agreed. Might even do them some good.

So, I sat down and began to play. Soon most of the day room had gathered around me, curious, scared, confused some, and some intent on touching me and my guitar to make sure that this was really happening.

This is when Kaiser stopped shuffling around, and instead almost stormed in among the gathered throng and physically pulled away from me those who tried to touch me or my guitar. Done making sure I was not interfered with, he planted himself right in front of me, standing straight, and with the biggest grin on his face, shining really.

I had a hard time believing my eyes (as did, it turned out, the other nurses as well). The moment was magical, and riding on this magic, I just kept playing and Kaiser kept smiling. Then it was time for their meal and their meds.

Sitting up in bed that night, writing in my journal, I noted this amazing Truth (referring to Kaiser): The Spirit, I wrote, is that thing in a human life which cannot be killed.

Kaiser’s spirit, however deeply it had been buried, rose to the surface that day, and erupted in a smile. I knew this was a truth, an incredibly valuable truth.

The next day the head nurse called me into her office. Quite something with Kaiser, wasn’t it? she said. I agreed.

“Interesting that it was music that finally made him smile,” she said.

“Amazing,” I agreed.

“Do you know what he was before the war?” she asked.

I didn’t know, and told her so.

“A concert pianist,” she said.

The impact of that almost made me cry. Kaiser was a musician who had just heard live music for the first time in twenty-five years, and that live music had brought him, the unkillable spirit, awake.

Into the frame of Truth, Kaiser went, smiling and all.

A few days later I had a vision of sorts (see “The Painting” fragment in this section). I saw life, the world, the universe, everything, as a painting set in a vast and beautiful frame. And everyone and everything in that painting looked up and said “good,” looked down and said “bad.” They looked up and said, “God,” looked down and said, “The Devil.” They looked up and said, “heaven,” looked down and said, “hell.” Looked up and said, “beautiful,” looked down and said, “ugly.” Looked up and said, “strong,” looked down and said “weak.” And so on through the seemingly endless dichotomies we surround and choke ourselves with.

Yet, for all these up-and-down certainties, all that I could see, standing outside and not being part of the painted (un-painted, as it were), was a painting: neither good nor bad, neither ugly nor beautiful; it was just a painting. An illusion.

I also saw that I would have to consider myself “painted” in order to buy into and experience (and live by) those dichotomies.

Another Truth: A good patient-friend of mine was six feet tall and all muscle, but with a mental age of perhaps five. He had gotten it into his head that I was a prince from India. Why? I wondered. Because I was not afraid of the elephants, he explained. Right.

I liked this man so much that I wanted to give him my gold puzzle ring, you know those that consist of six or eight interlocking strands of gold that you must put together just so, or they will remain six or eight separate strands (see the “Bror and the Ring” fragment in this section).

Having decided to give this to him, I realized that I would have to teach him how to put it together, for were I to give it to him, and were he to drop it and then not be able to put it together again, well, I was afraid that this would break his heart.

So, I told him I was giving him this ring, let’s just sit down and I’ll show you how it works. And so, we sat down and took it apart and put it together again many times. And then he tried many times, and failed many times.

I showed him many more times. He tried and failed many more times. I showed him again. He tried again. Failed again.

After what seems like an hour, he looks right at me and says, “Keep the ring. I can never learn how to put it together. And if I drop it, and it breaks, it would break my heart.”

Huge Truth.

One night I read an essay by Bertrand Russell where he proved to me that God (as I had thought of him up to this point—old man, long white hair, dressed in white, among the clouds, omniscient and more vengeful than forgiving) couldn’t possibly exist, at least not as bandied about. I saw it, and was immensely relieved to learn this. Huge weight off my shoulders, and:

Huge Truth.

I read other essays by other philosophers and then realized that all philosophers are “we” with each other. All are seeking the same truth. All are of the same mental race. (Huxley, whom I had not read at the time, called it “The Perennial Philosophy”).

And looking about, I saw many other mental races, and more clearly than the physical ones.

One night I realized with full clarity that Home is where you are. And that you cannot possibly be anywhere but Home, no matter where you go.

Huge Truth.

In some ways I felt like a growing river.

And then I wondered: What is it, really, that makes me think?

Again, intuitively (and I lived on this plane most of the time now—it is now September of 1968), I saw that the first thing that made me think was my body.

If thirsty I think of water, if hungry I think of food. If tired I think of sleep, if horny I think of sex. If hurting I think of lessening the pain. If cold I think of warmth, and vice versa. The body, and all its intricacies and its many currents of phenomena, yes, it certainly made me think.

All right, I reasoned, what if I did not have a body. What, then, would make me think? And, I also asked myself, absolute purity, wherein does it hide?

Were I not to have a body, were I not to be influenced at all by its many needs and desires, I saw that all I have learned from others, from the world, would then make me think? My father’s little lessons, my mother’s, my teachers’ many instructions, and the many societal and environmental lessons I had learned from the moment I could perceive, yes, they made me think. They gave me a framework, values, they gave me solutions, they gave me entire philosophical systems, a psychological foundation, to think with. Yes, indeed.

But what if I didn’t have that? What if I had never been taught, indoctrinated, or influenced, then what would make me think?

I tasted this question with my entire being before the answer rose as a big sun within me. Then, it said, then I would make me think.

And this, I decided, would be the sphere or space of Free Thought, of certainty, of harmony, of purity. This truth rippled up and down my spine.

And then I wrote in my journal: “I experienced the proof that experience is a proof.”

Then I also concluded, that the truest state of existence, then, would be that after death: no body, no environmental indoctrination. Just You. And it never for a second occurred to me that I might cease to exist at body death. Not a chance.

This would also be the absolute purity I sought.

Then I wrote in my journal:

I have found the connection, all that now remains is to prove it to humanity.

The connection is cognizance of the space of Free Thought, the cognizance of this space’s unimaginable width.

It is this universal well, this core of truth that forms the pure thought.

You can call this core the Soul, or the Good, or God, or Brahman, et cetera.

Do I really see any limitations within me?

Are the any limits for Humanity?

No!

The absolute fulfillment is when everything, and I mean everything, is a proof for this core, for the soul.

No, the thought is larger than that, more nuanced.

I find truth in Plato, in Baudelaire, in a feeling, in an answer, in a smile, in all being.

Everything is directed towards the same core, everything a proof for the pure.

And it is when everything gives me impressions, when everything is absorbed to clarity, when everything proves the same thing, that truth has reached fulfillment.

Yes, I am convinced.

At that I put my journal down and tried to catch some sleep—with mixed success.

The following morning (no, I don’t think I slept much during the night) I went to see a friend of mine to share with him what I had discovered. The morning was warm for the season; I remember a light rain.

As it happened, my friend was not in, but his girlfriend was, and I just had to tell someone about this.

So, I sat her down, Listen, I said. Listen to this.

I asked her for pen and paper. She found some. I drew three concentric circles.

There are three concentric fields of thought, I said.

One, your body (pointing to the innermost circular field)—dictating thoughts of food when you’re hungry, sleep when you’re tired, water when you’re thirsty, sex when you’re aroused.

What if you can escape this circle?

Two (pointing to circular field between the first and second circle), indoctrination: education and upbringing—dictating thought based on others’ opinions, lessons learned, parental influences, experience, and so on.

What if you can escape this circle?

Three (indicating the circular field between the second and third circles), outside these first two fields lies the space of Free Thought, where You are free to do the thinking yourself.

This is where You make you think.

And at this very moment I awoke. As I outlined these fields to my friend’s girlfriend, it was as if I actually expanded outward beyond body, beyond indoctrination—as if I left them both behind and fully entered the space of Free Thought.

And while in the space of Free Thought the question simply arrived, and spoke itself: Is there a field outside the field of Free Thought?

In my next breath, the answer arrived, and it said, quite clearly: That would be “Nirvana.”

And as the word—it was like a whisper, as if an angel had stooped down to let me in on a secret—arrived, I felt a ripple in my feet, which grew to fountain up my legs and shot through my chest and head and into light: all was light. Intense, joyful, amazing, vibrant, light.

I was an I no longer, I was light, experiencing itself.

I don’t know for sure how long this lasted, a minute perhaps, maybe five, maybe longer, perhaps shorter. After a while (however long), the room softly returned and with it my friend’s girlfriend, who looked a little concerned perhaps. I looked up at her and all I said then was: “Now I know.”

I left then, and walked back to my own room. On the way I ate an orange. And as I ate it, I could feel each swallow slide down my throat and enter my stomach. I could I perceived everything about and inside my body.

For days after that I hardly thought a single thought. My head was like a quiet forest lake, no ripples.

I knew.

A boy unfurled.

 ::

P.S. If you like what you’ve read here and would like to contribute to the creative motion, as it were, you can do so via PayPal: here.

[fuck-customers]

I have a nice workplace in terms of management and most of my coworkers so my experience here may be a bit skewed but I'd like to speak about my experience with something that affects a lot of people on this page MENTAL HEALTH IN THE WORKPLACE.

This is gonna get long and I've actually cut out a lot to save explaining because it's a bit ...shitty... but here's the main story. 

I just wanna say on the out -  don't be afraid of sharing. I found that sharing actually did help me a lot at work, and if I told them earlier it would have saved me a lot of hassle.

I've worked for the same company for almost 4 years now. I started as a high school student, transferred and then continued as a university student. Before that I worked in a really terrible small store as a summer temp, and I've worked for my school during the summer for three weeks (and ongoing corresponding throughout the year that I'm paid for) as part of a summer school exchange. But. My focus for this will be my main job and the store I'm currently at.

I suffer from an anxiety disorder - with it brining symptoms of depression but I would never really say I had depression or even depression and anxiety. I don't take meds and I'm not currently in therapy (I had a short stint at the beginning of this year but had to bail as it interfered with class). Although I believe understanding your symptoms is important I'm not 100% of self-diagnosis but I was pretty sure prior to diagnosis that I had problems with anxiety. I was diagnosed in 2014. 

I'd never properly brought it up at work. I sometimes mentioned feeling increasingly more anxious at times when I was at store 1 during my high school days and this was brushed off. I think my supervisor said something along the lines of, "everyone gets like that! just relax!" he was a pretty nice guy, but, a bit dim. Another time I told him I was stressed and he told me I was too young to be stressed. 

The first time it came up was when I first got introduced to my current manager. I was working in the store for about 2 or so months when my manager there quit. I was heartbroken because I really hated my then "new" store at the time and constantly felt homesick - him and maybe one or two others made it bearable. What's worse, my new(current) manager was known to a lot of the staff already as he worked between our store and another store as a supervisor a few years back, and then became a temporary ASM before the current one came. I was opening with him on maybe his third shift back, it was me, another staff member and someone completely new. He didn't say one word to me - really - as he wanted to help the new person and he knew the other person. I felt super uncomfortable as for that whole shift I felt forgotten about - he spoke to everyone else as they were either a new seasonal staff or he worked with them beforehand. I was just not on his radar. At this time. I hated this place even more. At this time, my anxiety was hella bad. I had a lot on my plate, like, a fuckload of shit that I'd rather not get into online and it would probably get us off the point of this place. 

Essentially, I needed to clarify something with work that my old manager had told me was okay but it didn't seem to be noted anywhere. As I didn't know him at all, I asked supervisor number 1 about my issue. Supervisor 1 shrugged me off and told me I'd have to speak to our boss about this. He wasn't in on my next shift, so, I decided to ask supervisor 2 - supervisor 2 was less helpful than supervisor 1 as she told me the exact opposite of what I was hoping. I cried the whole way home. I felt trapped and hopeless.

I even contacted my old manager asking if I could transfer back down. It was almost Xmas anyway, so, I could just go home (although this was not ideal, abusive household). I only lived about 100 miles away so I could always travel to there on a Friday night, work the weekend and come up mid-Monday as I had no class either until the summer (when I would just come home and work...again not ideal but at the time I was getting a lot of money for my age as I was still only 17) or I could just work there until I found a new job here.

The next shift I was in was with my manager, it was a Tuesday starting early, I don't know why I was scheduled in for this shift as I had class. But. I went anyway. I thought fuck it, I'll ask him. As I didn't know him that well I just explained my situ and also what Supervisor 2 said to me. I also told him (truthfully) that I'd been having panic attacks since Supervisor 2 spoke to me.

His response was kinda ...weird. He thought it was "fucked up" (exact words) that he had no handover on the issue and immediately sorted it. He told me later on that shift that "nothing work related should make you that anxious EVER". And we left it like that.

I still felt left out at work. My manager still didn't really speak to me. My anxiety was getting worse due to class/bad family back "home" and work. I recall getting told off by my manager for something really trivial and for asking for a holiday a few times for him to snap at me before storming off to enter it. I assumed he didn't like me. I was a pain in his ass. 

Shortly after this, I got hit by a massive anxiety truck. I felt so low, I couldn't leave my bed. I missed so much class and so much work (although I lied and said I had food poisioning from work as I didn't know how to bring it up). And then... I felt better. I was scheduled for work at 9:30am on a Sat, which was pretty standard and the night before a few of my high school friends were in town for a gig, so I met them after it for a drink. Honestly, I don't drink A LOT - I have a very low tolerance made worse by anxiety. Since I was in class all day and was meant to work the next day this would be the only time I'd see them for a while. I lasted one drink and felt overwhelmed. I had to go home. I cried all night and couldn't calm myself down. Before I knew it, it hit 7:30am and I was still shaking so badly. I honestly couldn't make it out of my place to get the bus. Serving customers was off the menu. I'd only been back on shift as well, and hadn't done my back to work. I called in and it was Supervisor 2 - who I really hated and was leaving soon. But. I just told her. I couldn't lie anymore.

"You've been off a lot."

I had been off a lot - at my old location I was off ONCE and that was because I had a sickness bug and was sent home the day previously. (I had to throw up and couldn't make it to the bathroom so threw up outside the store...lovely). I'd been off here a lot - mainly due to catching illnesses but more recently due to anxiety. 

"....I'll go see a doctor?" I shrugged.

"Yes, do that. I'll say to manager." 

I had a long weekend (inc Monday) of wallowing in self pity before making my way to the doctors on the Tuesday. My doctor could see I was intensely stressed and asked me if my student loan could cover my living costs (no) as my job seemed unnecessary due to my university commitments. By this time I had lost around 20 lbs as well - I was never skinny to begin with but this weight came off in about 2-3 months essentially because I was living off ramen as the thought of cooking/going to the shop seemed too scary (hahahah you're such a student with your ramen nope I'm fucking mentally ill). He offered me medication but I denied, as I was worried about adjusting to them so close to my deadlines. I planned to start them that summer but I'm still not on anything. He wrote me off for a further two weeks for both work and uni, but, I was behind on uni so went in anyway. 

I didn't want to go back to work. The thought of work made me feel so ill and so anxious. I started looking at new jobs and filled in an application for a stockroom job for a museum gift shop. I was just waiting for the right time to contact my old manager from the first store for a reference because there was No Way In Hell my boss was gonna give me a reference. 

When I returned, after trying not to cry as I reached the door, my boss grinned at me as I walked in, "HEY WELCOME BACK! :)" 

"...hi..."

"I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

As I entered the staffroom, a new face was there, "HI I'm Supervisor 2.1!" Supervisor 2 had left already, phew. Supervisor 2.1 kept talking and talking and talking. He was nice. I already decided I liked him because he seemed to have little filter and seemed genuine. 

"I used to work at [other location] but I live in [same place as me] so this is closer! And I'm getting more money as I'm not a SUPERVISOR!!! Just getting used to the busses!"

I smiled and told him I got the busses too and would help him tonight. 

As I was about to start, my manager called me into his office to do my paperwork and also dragged Supervisor 2.1 in to show him how to do it, and to keep him "in the loop".

"We need to do your back to work form. But this is quite serious."

I thought...fuck... he thinks I'm faking. I'm gonna get fired for a lot of absences. 

Nope.

We filled in the form as usual and looked over my doctors note. He said he recalled the time I told him I was taking panic attacks and just thought I was exaggerating and he apologised a lot for thinking that.

He then told me he valued me so much as a team member as I always got shit done and was a hardworker, he apologised if he'd ever been "off" with me as he said he just didn't really think I liked him or needed constantly guidance on tasks.

We had this long-ass chat about mental health. In which he told me he'd been on and off anti-anxiety medication for the past 5 years. He went into detail about how he didn't go into his old work at all and eventually got fired and said he was super proud I sought help before things went too far for me in regards to either work or school. Supervisor 2.1 chipped in and said he's a very nervous person, perhaps not anxiety level but nevertheless very nervous.

It went on for an hour and since then, we've had a great relationship. And I mean REALLY GREAT. Essentially, we worked out we were basically the same person - I would have probably never found out this shit if we never had this long-ass convo. I also become really close friends with Supervisor 2.1 who constantly gets me into trouble for talking to him and coming back late from lunch as he always insists on dining out. 

I think I was making myself quite distant at work because I was in a bad place mentally - and because of that - I was getting increasingly anxious at work.....the cycle went on.

Since then, I've obviously had "difficulties" but it's been super easy to talk to managers about it. I once mentioned, in passing, to our ASM how the messy tshirts unsettled me and she switched my zone in the store so I could go tidy them (I was doing nothing anyway). I've had reviews and have been praised for hard work and customer service - with downsides being confidence, usually. 

Recently, I had quite a bad anxiety "relapse" - I asked my manager if I could talk to him - as it was fucked anyway and an issue at work with one coworker and another being assholes to myself and another coworker made it worse. Mixed in with deadlines, I needed either reduced hours or a couple of back of house shifts to help me calm. We talked out the issues and I took a panic attack that he managed to talk me out of before it got too bad which, sadly, kinda set him off a bit as I noticed he was stimming quite badly. He checked up on me that night and thanked me for sharing.

Due to the fact I get easily stressed and my work knows this, they are happy to fit my schedule around my class and deadlines. Something that before they were a bit like "meh" about. 

I just wanna say PLEASE DO NOT DO A ME AND HOLD IT IN UNTIL IT GETS REALLY BAD. I still get very stressed and nervous when I think about that time in my life - if I had been more open earlier I would have saved myself a lot of stress which in turn made my mental health worse. 

#happy ending #retail justice #submission

[decaffeinateddefendorduck]

crazy is as crazy does, part 5

THE NEXT DAY

Happy enters the garage to find Deputy Director Cooper already there with a mission for Scorpion.

“Finally! Happy, we’re going on a mission for Homeland, Toby is staying here to keep an eye on his Mother, but we’ll need you in the field.  Ready?” asked Walter.

The team filed out, leaving Toby sitting at his desk staring over at the elevator section of the garage, where his mother emerges with a pair of scissors.  

“And what are you doing with those?” he asked her.

“Obviously opening a vein,” she says sarcastically.  Seeing his terrified look makes her explain. “I’m breaking down the boxes, they aren’t very pretty. I’m sure you would rather I not use a box cutter, hence the scissors. I should probably save them for the next move, where would you like them?”  Jane turned an innocent smile up at him waiting for his reply.

“You’re right, no box cutters.  I’ll help you put them in storage.  So you’re almost done?  Less than twenty-four hours, that’s pretty amazing.”

Jane approaches Toby and puts a hand on his face.  “Where did all of your friends go, Sonny?  Don’t they want to play with you today?  Am I hindering your” she hunts for a hip sounding word “mojo? Do the kids still say mojo?  It’s been awhile since I’ve been around kids.”

Ignoring this last part Toby replies, “They wanted me to go and play with them but we don’t exactly trust you to be here alone.”

“I am a grown woman Tobias.  You can go and play if you want to.  I have a project to complete. Top Secret! I’ll be good. I promise.”  Her promise was made deviantly and with her fingers crossed and help out in front of Toby’s face.

“A project already, huh?  Care to share the details, after all I am family.”

“No, I said Top Secret!  Didn’t you hear the capital letters in my inflection?  It’s an enigma you’ll have to solve.  Like me.” And with that she went and started breaking down the boxes.  Toby took her first load to the storage area and on his way to get a second one Walter called, needing help on the mission. Walter asked Toby if he could leave his mother for a short time to go to a local office where they needed some of his behaviorist skills.  He agreed and warned his mother to be good, then left her in the garage alone.

Jane finished with the boxes and looked around at the silence, then went on a little tour, looking through the entire garage and collecting materials for her project.  She took 15 of Sylvester’s pencils, twine from Happy’s shelves, glue from Toby’s chemistry and medical supplies, markers and ribbons from her own supplies.  When she first made it to the doll house she froze in complete euphoria, wondering how she could be so lucky. After gathering the rest of the materials, she piled them around on the floor by the doll house, making herself invisible from the garage’s various openings.  Jane set to work making dolls out of the pencils and arranging them in various tableaux in the doll house.

On finishing his errand for the team, Toby made his way back to the garage. He didn’t see or hear his mother, so he started to look for her, but Walter called again just then asking for computer support.  While on the phone, Walter asked why Toby was playing music when he should be focused on the case.   Toby hadn’t noticed it until Walter pointed it out, but he recognized it at once. Toby looked around from his spot at the monitors and found his mother sitting on the floor behind the doll house. Terror instantly arose through him. he knows how Happy hates people touching her things and messing with her doll house, but that was second only to the fright of seeing his mother creating something.  He needed to finish with Walter, so he told Walter he couldn’t stop the music but that it wasn’t interfering with his work, “it’s a radio I have yet to learn which button to push to turn it off.”

“What?” Walter demanded.

“It’s my mother singing.” Toby admitted.  Since she had sung to herself his whole life, he didn’t automatically hear it anymore, but could recognize it when it was pointed out to him.

After finishing with this particular crisis in the case, Toby started to approach his mother, who jumped up to hide her work when she noticed him.

“Don’t you come any closer.  You can’t see this just yet!  If’n you need some lovin’ you just let me know and I’ll come to you.”  She adopted an awful Southern accent to sweeten up her scolding, but she really just wanted him to leave her alone so she could work.

“Cordelia, are you feeling alright?”  Toby asked hesitantly.

The garage door opened right then with a special delivery from Brooklyn. Toby left his mother, who was smiling innocently up at him, to get the package, once he was gone she went back to her craft.  Toby took the package to his desk and stared in disbelief at the sheer volume of pills with his mother’s name on them.  He started making a list of the doctors on the labels and calling them to get her diagnoses.  While he was finishing up on the phone, yelling at several East Coast doctors and their nurses, Jane started arranging things in the doll house.  Then she simply stated “it’s coming” and went on with her work.

Toby heard his mother say something, and then the words registered.  They reminded him of when he was young. His mother would let his father and him know that she was changing from high to low, and this was her saying that the low was on its way.  He hung up with the doctor he was just yelling at and approached his mother gingerly and asked if she would like to go and lay down.  She declined.

“I have to finish this.  I’m almost done, then I’ll go to my pretty place for awhile, I think.”

Toby took this to mean the elevator, which she had taken the entire night beautifying. He wasn’t able to get her to leave. He walked away from her unsure if it was safe to do so at the same moment that the rest of the team came in for a problem solving session. Once the problem was solved it was determined that Toby needed to go with team this time, but that Happy could stay behind to watch Jane.  Unhappy about this, Happy asked Toby, “Do I need to know anything special about how to deal with her?  Do I need anything other than your number on speed dial?”

Smiling down at her, Toby answered “Her mania is ending, so once she’s done with her project she should just go into the elevator and sleep.” Using air quotes he added, “her pretty place. She may try to find a drinky-poo.  Try to keep her from the booze, but if she insists I’d rather her drink then hurt you, or herself.”

The team left and Happy kept her distance from Toby’s mother, her future mother-in-law.  Not long after the team was gone, Jane got up and danced across the floor, asked the room in general where the little girl’s room was and exited.  Since she was going in the right direction, Happy left her to it.

Happy took a deep breath and settled down at her computer.  After ten minutes without any sound from the direction of the restrooms, she decided that she should go over to see if Jane was okay.  Not having been told what to call her, Happy called out “Mrs. Curtis? Jane?  Toby’s mom?”  She didn’t get an answer so she pushed in the door and ran into Jane on her way out. Jane winced a bit, but stood up to her full height and said, “I guess it’s time that we had ourselves a little pow-wow.”

Happy’s shocked face was ignored by Jane who grabbed Happy by the hand and led her to the elevator which was completely transformed.  There was a curtain of ribbons hanging over the door that opened onto a new-looking space with fabric covering every wall. There were cushions and blankets covering the floor, books stacked against the back wall, and what looked like a nest in the middle of the small room.  Jane sat down in the center of the nest and patted the ground in front of her.  Happy cringed at the girlyness of everything in the room and sat down slowly across from the woman who gave Toby life.

Jan started talking and Happy just listened.

“I’m sure Toby has told you of my mental state. He is fond of finding alternative ways to tell the world that I am” she pauses a little “crazy. That isn’t entirely accurate. Especially at moments like this, the Twilight Time, I call it. The mania is receding and the Depression hasn’t yet nestled in, but it is on its way, I can feel it seeping in around the corners of my mind.” Here she shakes her head, like she may be able to shake it out.  “I haven’t always been like this, you know. I had a lucid childhood and teenage experience. I met Toby’s father and we had a normal wedding and the beginning of our life together was good. After I had Toby I had pretty bad postpartum depression (he doesn’t know this) and I self-medicated, which didn’t help. The first time my soon-to-be-ex-husband took me to get evaluated, the crackpot, discount shrink put me on high doses of Lithium which messed with the natural metals and chemicals in my brain, switching on an inherited genetic marker that I had successfully avoided until then.  The first time I tried to stop taking the Lithium, the mania hit.  My poor Sonny boy was five, already working through the top levels of the elementary school curriculum and we went on a bender through the education system that had him testing out of anything I could find to test him on.  Pre-internet, the tests were a little harder to find than I’m sure they are today, but it gave him the rush that probably started his gambling addiction (also fed by his father’s gambling) and fueled my disease.

“That first episode lasted a week, which was the most fun Tobias and I have ever had together. When the depression returned, I could see it hurting him, since he thought he was to blame. I did find some medical journals and books for him to read that told that story of other women who had gone through mental disorders, so he would understand that it wasn’t his fault. Mistakenly he thought it was his responsibility to fix me. He finished high school at 12 and started pre-med classes at local colleges. He worked his way into Harvard and then tried to diagnose and medicate me. He’s always been too close to be able to see what’s really wrong, and he blames himself, like kids do. So the gambling was a retreat for him, which led him to be chased across the country by all of the people be was better than at cards.  He did get into trouble a lot while he was growing up, but he was just looking for attention. Attention my drug and alcohol addled brain wouldn’t allow me to give him and that his father couldn’t give him. Toby reminds his father, more than I do, of how he ended up with Bertha, the first Mrs. Rochester, and that I prevented him from finding his Jane Eyre.”

As Jane talked, her speech became slower and quieter, the depression sinking in, Happy thought.  When it seemed she had finished her story she slid down onto her side and fell asleep. Happy wasn’t sure what exactly had just happened, or how to feel about all of this information, so she just covered Jane with a blanket and started to leave.  As she got to the door Jane jerked awake, she looked up and around.  When she spotted Happy at the door she weakly said, “I think you should call me Millie.  I can’t stand the thought of being called someone’s mother-in-law, but the acronym lends itself to Millie.  Love him.” she looked deep into Happy’s eyes as she said her last words and then dropped her head and fell asleep again.

#team scorpion #quintis #happy quinn #toby curtis #fan fic

[krkrandstuff]

Kristin ponders about Kristin

still trying to figure myself out..

It’s hard to talk about struggling when there is nothing outwardly wrong and there has never been. Am I even struggling or am I just whining? Why can’t I move forward? Why am I stuck?

Lemme summarize and hopefully not ramble too much but this post is for me mainly, soooo, you know. My homelife has been idyllic, happy, I guess. No struggle, nothing traumatic. I’d call it vanilla. Everything was fine. Emotionally, maybe not so much, but growing up is a time of change, right?

I had some body image issues start up in intermediate school, but who doesn’t, honestly? Being a tall and fat female surrounded by petite and cute girls - I felt stupid wanting to be what they were. I shouldn’t be wearing makeup, shopping for skirts and dresses, liking ‘girly’ things, or revealing any bit of my figure. I felt I looked manly. I felt I would be an impostor. I felt that I hated them for having that whatever it was (it’s called confidence, Kristin). It was just better to avoid attention by wearing over-sized shirts and unintentionally ill-fitting jeans. How I ‘felt’ was a lie. Therapy in my early 20s helped with this and I realize now I’m heckin’ cute regardless of what I’m wearing. Oh, and I realized pink is an awesome color. Therapy.. it does help sometimes.

I’ve had some slumps of depression along with a steady stream of ‘eh’-veryday depression. I remember sitting on the playground in 4th grade tracing cracks in the asphalt with a woodchip for ‘fun’ because I had no friends in my class or in my school wing and my teacher wouldn’t let me stay inside to read. It wasn’t fun. That scenario repeated itself in sophomore year high school as none of my friends had a schedule that lined up with mine - not even lunch. We had been together constantly in junior high; to go from that to barely a glimpse of them my first year in a new building was awful (grades 10-12 were at the h.s.). While they ate together, had stories to tell from class, and did group projects together, I was alone. No amount of hanging out on the weekends made me feel like I wasn’t missing out. The following year, I was reunited with them until we graduated, and then all was reasonably well until we went our separate ways yet again.

University started. I tried being a typical college student. I joined some clubs. I did regularly go to my classes. I tried to meet people. I tried to have fun. My hometown friends were doing all these things and more at their schools, why couldn’t I? Eventually, I felt like my being there did not matter one way or the other. Miserable for a variety of reasons, I ended up transferring from one small university to another closer to home. The few people who reached out to me were surprised I was gone - I hadn’t told them as I hadn’t expected them to notice.

I tried again at my new university - joining a bible study, the anime club, and an Asian culture club. I slowly stopped trying. Again, I felt like my presence was negligible and unnecessary, so I withdrew into myself. I whittled my routine down to class, eat, screw around until everyone was asleep, study/work on projects, sleep. I would avoid the school building when I knew my classmates would be there outside of classtime. I even avoided the dining halls and c-stores if I couldn’t be there right when they opened (and were emptiest). I couldn’t focus unless the world was asleep, so working until dawn and beyond became a regular occurrence. I did all I could to avoid others while slowly drudging toward graduation.

Looking back, I can see the depression and anxiety eating at me. They still nip at my heels and make ugly reappearances, but I can mostly deal with them now thanks to therapy my parents forced me into attending due to a post-uni depression slump. The Buproprion I’m on helps some too. I just feel like there is still something more to be dealt with. Something that is still interfering with my life today.

All my life, I’ve been the worst procrastinator. Annoying assignments, enjoyable assignments, I would put them all to the last moment. In Viscom II, we got to design a CD case for our favorite band and I still could not work on it until the night before it was due. I would escape the guilt telling me to work by working on ‘beneficial’ hobbies. Reading is good for my education, so read more instead of working quite yet. Personal artwork was much the same. Why wouldn’t I work on my assignments ahead of time? Maybe it was that I couldn’t. In high school. I vividly recall cleaning the fridge at home top to bottom to prolong working on an essay. I used to blame laziness, but now I think it’s an inability to focus. Self-diagnosing oneself is frowned upon, but I do wonder if I have ADD. Eight paragraphs and I finally get to what I actually wanted to reflect on and ponder! Sorry self and any determined reader for the tangents. 

Current me, post-college, working a salaried 7:30-4:30 job, has been having struggles lately. My struggles stem from a worsening ability to focus at work and complete failure to do anything but ‘potato’ at home. I cannot procrastinate my work, certain tasks must be completed within certain time frames or our company faces consequences due to my inaction. However my brain still prefers to focus on every conversation and phone call around me so I can interject with information or a comment (sorry if I’m that annoying person, coworkers). My brain wants to think and talk about different cheesy dishes I desire to try and oh, where to buy Greek cheese to make saganaki. Let’s google that for 10 minutes at 8 in the morning for some reason (that train of thought was this past Thursday). Sometimes my brain gets overloaded listening to all these conversations while the printer is going, the phone is ringing, and someone is trying to get my attention. Sometimes I’m hopping between so many little projects that one more request pushes me to tears. 

There are times I want to scream, cry, and run away. None of those are office-appropriate behavior. I feel so wound up by pushing myself through my day that coming down from that at home takes all evening. That is what I call ‘potato-ing’. I zone out to Youtube and Reddit until it’s time to sleep and do it all over. I don’t know how people accomplish anything with their evenings. All I have as far as daily commitments are my job, a loving boyfriend, and two cats and still I do not have the mental energy for a fulfilling evening.

I used to define myself as a reader. I was an artist. I was a gamer. Except for the odd occasion, I don’t do these things anymore. I have a list of books I’ve been meaning to read, but I can’t find the energy to pick them up. I used to have a vivid imagination - much of it stemming from things I’ve read or watched. The source stopped, so I stopped having ideas for what I wanted to draw. I also can’t procrastinate at work, so drawing as a procrastination method is a no-go. I used to have a large list of fandoms I enjoyed, now I couldn’t name any. Some I did outgrow, but mostly, I haven’t been consuming new media because I can’t commit the energy to do so. When I do manage to start a drawing or a new book, I cannot stop. If I stop, I will never finish or go back to it. It is all or nothing.

The only time I feel clear-headed is after everyone has gone to sleep/away and I have had hours to unwind and I am left with perfect solitude. Only then do the inklings of my old pastimes try to make themselves known. Right now, I still don’t usually have the energy to act on them. I’m only able to write this long-ass mess as Joshua has gone to the game shop for the evening. It’s just me, the cats and, the rain outside. 

I did do some reading on ADD in women online. The checklist on ADDitude’s site resonates with me a lot and so do posts from redditors on the ADHD subreddit. I feel choked by how much ‘stuff’ I have. Not even close to being a hoarder, but I feel like I can’t keep up or keep these things organized. I shutdown sometimes at work when I feel overloaded. I shutdown sometimes at the grocery store because of the number of bodies and the noise and chaos. I feel like I can’t keep up with what people demand of me, socially and at work.  I do start the day wanting to accomplish so much and when I fail because I can’t get the ball rolling, my depression just eats that up. 

Writing this all out makes it clearer to me that this is not normal. It is not normal to feel hollow like this. There are things I want to accomplish, but I can never get to them. I can’t get moving. I feel frustrated. I feel sad. I feel stuck. 

I, and medical professionals (probably), never considered ADD might be the culprit as, despite being a procrastinator, I always finished my assignments. I can count on one hand the few that I didn’t. I was primarily a straight A student (until college). I didn’t have any obvious focus issues in class. I don’t live in total chaos (probably because my anxiety goes berserk when there is too much clutter). I’m not all over the place, at least on the outside. I look at my sister who does have ADHD and I can very obviously tell when she’s taken her meds or not. These classic symptoms don’t fit me, but the others do.

I’ve addressed the depression and the anxiety and avoidant behaviors (that I didn’t touch on here). This last beast remains to be conquered. If it’s not ADD, it’s something. Something that I can’t handle on my own.  I’m going to talk to my primary care when I go in this month. She’ll probably tell me I need to see a psychiatrist again, but this time I think I will take that advice. I’m tired of feeling like this. 

Fingers crossed for an answer and hopefully a solution. 

Thanks for coming to to my TedRamble. :P

#depression #anxiety #add #maybe? #mental health #personal #reflection #krkrblather

[contiinuation]

I think that on some level my mother always blamed herself for my epilepsy. A lot of her theories were based on the fact that I was born a month too soon via c-section. She cites that the doctor may have pulled me out of her too aggressively or something, or perhaps he grabbed me by the neck the wrong way while I entered the world, kicking and screaming. Shortly after I was born, my lung collapsed. My mom has theorized that perhaps I went too long without oxygen and that’s why I found myself fighting a seizure disorder twelve years later. She blamed vaccinations for a while there. She also blamed braces for shifting my teeth around so drastically that I had developed a seizure disorder.

My mother blamed herself and the things she did for my seizures so naturally, she threw her entire being into fighting them.

My mom is a nurse of thirty years and has seen first hand what drugs (legal and not legal) can do to a person. She’s a pretty hard-headed and thick-skinned woman and I couldn’t do what she does on a daily basis. Growing up, her experience in the medical field seeped into our home life. Our family’s medicine cabinet was twice the size of all of my friends’ medicine cabinets and it was always filled to the brim with vitamins and medical supplies, including latex gloves, medical tape, surgical tools and she sometimes kept syringes locked in the other medicine cabinet in her bathroom. I even saw an IV drip bag up there once. I never thought this was weird but in retrospect maybe the syringes were a little bit questionable. It’s nice to know, though, that if the absolute end of time occurred while I lived with my parents, I would have a generally good chance of surviving and repopulating the earth.

With respects to drugs though, my mom was a firm believer that there’s always something natural out there that can cure minor ailments like headaches and period cramps. She liked the idea of curing things naturally rather than turning to harsh drugs to fix things. Advil and Claritin made very rare appearances in our house. Period cramps were treated with a heating pad and this weird tea she brought home from Russia once (which worked). Muscle pain required magnesium. Have a headache? Take a nap and down a litre of water. Allergies? Nettle tea and Vitamin C. Nauseous? Ginger tea. Cold and flu? My grandma used to make this mixture which was basically a full jar of liquid honey that was packed to the brim with lemon and ginger slices along with fifteen to twenty cloves of garlic. I swear one tablespoon cured you within hours.

My mom applied the same logic to my seizure disorder. Before my doctor could put me on meds (I hadn’t had enough seizures/tests done until six months after the first one for him to make a formal diagnosis allowing him to write the appropriate prescription) my mom tried what felt like every possible natural remedy on the face of the planet.

Remedy #1: Aura Cleansing

When I first got sick, I remember having a lot of appointments in a very short time frame. One of the first ones took place in a little apartment building in North York. I’m pretty sure it was an under-the-table operation because this was literally in this little Eastern European lady’s apartment and she was adamant about it being cash-only. My mom explained this appointment to me as “aura cleansing,” something that would “draw negative energy out of my me”.

The Eastern European lady had a few degrees hanging on the wall of her kitchen stating that she was certified in accounting from a local university and one in Russia. She had another certificate hanging next to the accounting degrees allowing her to practice in the field of Holistic health and healing.

I remember looking around and thinking it was a homey apartment. It vaguely resembled my grandmother’s in Poland: there were doilies on every piece of furniture and it smelled somewhat like boiled potatoes. She also had a beautiful cat, Felix, who was long and slender and spotted like a Jaguar and I loved him.

After asking my mom and I a few questions about my general health the lady lead us into a spare bedroom where she had a bookshelf, a loveseat and a massage table. My mom sat down on the loveseat and the lady turned on a radio that played ocean noises at a soft volume. I took my place on the table and the lady asked me to close my eyes and started talking me through deep-breathing exercises, which lasted an entire half-hour. I started getting restless. She then moved on to asking me to stay completely still while she hovered her hands over my entire body in steady, rhythmic motions. I remember thinking, “if the problem is in my brain, then how the hell is this going to help?”

By the end of the appointment I was primarily fixated on finding Felix again. I was relatively smart for a twelve year old. I knew this “aura cleansing” wasn’t going to help a problem in my brain. My mom paid the lady while I hung out on the floor of her foyer with the cat.

In the car my mom and I talked about how I felt about the appointment. I told her I didn’t like sitting still for so long but I didn’t complain. I knew she was just trying to help. We went back a couple more times but eventually I think my mom clued in that I didn’t like going and didn’t think these “aura cleansing” sessions weren’t helping. I continued having seizures regardless of how much this Russian accountant cleansed my aura. The appointments frequently interfered with my normal kid stuff like Girl Guides and homework and whatnot so we never went back.

Remedy #2: Biofeedback Therapy

Around the same time as the aura cleansing sessions, my mom started taking me to an ADD/Biofeedback clinic close to our house. My parents told me that these sessions would help me control my seizures, like when or if they happen and the severity of them. I didn’t fight it because it sounded fantastic in theory - if I could control them then I could theoretically never have a seizure ever again. These appointments would prove to be equally as useless as the aura cleansing. At the very least, these appointments helped me come to terms with how little control I had over my life anymore.

The first appointment was focused on teaching you proper breathing techniques and how to divert your focus to certain parts of your brain. I’m not sure of the specifics of it but it was a weirdly satisfying experience being able to direct my brain processes and I knew it was working because I could feel it. I could literally feel my brain waves diverting themselves at my control. I’ve retained the ability to do that and sometimes I divert my focus for fun.

This clinic was huge and there were individual rooms where patients would be hooked up to a machine that resembled an EEG machine. With this machine you would basically be controlling a virtual game on a computer screen with your brain waves and breathing pattern. My favourite was the roller coaster game: the roller coaster would speed along the track as long as you kept your focus and breathing rate to a certain standard. With every game you completed successfully in a  given time frame you’d be awarded points and eventually you would be able to exchange your points for prizes. It was like a Chuck-E-Cheese for kids with neurological conditions.

When I collected enough points I traded them in for a $20 gift card to Chapters. The day I won the gift card my mom and dad took me to the bookstore and I bought one of those Guinness Book of World Records books. I came across the book in my parents basement a couple weeks ago and smiled.

I wish Biofeedback Therapy worked for me. The outcome sounds like a dream. Being about to control when and where and if you have seizures sounds like a dream. However, unfortunately, they didn’t work. Seizures kept happening regardless of how hard I tried to redirect my brain waves - and believe me, I tried, but they continued.

Remedy #3: Dairy-Free and Gluten-Free Diet

Right after my diagnosis with Epilepsy my mother did a lot of internet research and came to the conclusion that dairy and gluten would be ultimately detrimental to my health. We went back to the aura-cleansing lady - who happened to also have a vast amount of knowledge about the dietary needs of epileptics - who confirmed that dairy and gluten in any form should be avoided in every way possible.

I’d never been a picky eater so this diet never really phased me in the slightest. It didn’t help with my seizures at all but living without dairy and gluten didn’t bother me. I managed to find substitutes for all of my favourite things, some things I ended up liking more than the original anyway.

This diet lasted two years. No one actually forced me to stick to it for this long; I genuinely liked the foods I was eating for those two years and I felt generally more physically healthy, but I started to miss the fun foods that I could technically no longer eat. The fact that I was getting older also didn’t help. I was going out with friends more often and we’d usually eat out or order in, and take-out dairy-free, gluten-free food wasn’t typically available anywhere at that point in time.

One night in 2011 I found myself at Laura’s house. Her mom made a Baked Alaska for her birthday. I wasn’t going to say no to a slice of birthday cake for my best friend’s birthday, so I took a big slice thinking nothing of the potential consequences of eating dairy for the first time in two years.

That night, Laura’s toilet and I spent a long night together. I’ll spare you the gruesome details. I will never put any blame on my mother for my epilepsy, however, I will credit her for the role that she played in my lactose intolerance. Remedy #4: Holistic Electro-Treatment

I’ve scoured the web and I don’t even know what to call this treatment because I can’t find any evidence of it existing, but I know it exists because it’s yet another thing my mom thought would cure me of epilepsy. So I will call it Holistic Electro-Treatment.

I started suffering from hay fever and migraines the spring before I turned seventeen. At this point I was taking medication for my seizures and had been seizure-free for almost three years. I didn’t like mixing drugs so I generally avoided taking antihistamines and pain relievers and I was open to any forms of treatment that would make the itching inside my face go away.

My mom had a friend at work who suggested this treatment that consisted of strategically placed electric currents running through your body that would treat allergies and epilepsy and various other ailments, including my newfound lactose intolerance. This treatment also sounded incredible because it was kind of an all-in-one type deal, but it didn’t work.

My first appointment was with this lady in the basement of an office complex. My mom came with me and sat as I sat on a table and the therapist-lady showed me the pen-shaped device that would omit the slightest current of electricity. She ran through a series of basic questions about my medical history, and then asked if I had any body piercings, as the metal could interfere with the electric currents.

My mom was old-fashioned, and that's why I hadn’t told her about the time I got my navel pierced. She was so incredibly against any body modifications. When I was fifteen I dragged Genn to some sketchy basement apartment where a little non-English speaking woman did tattoos and piercings. I was on a mission to get my nose pierced. Now, the legal age to get such a piercing without parental permission was sixteen, so I was under age, but I was referred there by an acquaintance from school who said that this place doesn’t ID kids who come through there. I was nervous as I was filling out the form with a fake name and age, but I was determined. She pulled a tiny needle out of a sterile package and  pushed it through my nose, and with that I had my first facial piercing. I showed up back at home around 7pm that night and did everything I could to avoid my parents, but they had to see me eventually, right? I eventually ventured upstairs, holding my head down until they eventually noticed the sparkly rhinestone stud sticking out of my face. They were - within their rights - pissed about it. To my surprise, my dad was more pissed than my mom, who later approached me and told me she liked the facial piercing, saying that it was “cute”. My dad hated it and I think he was more pissed that I went out of my way to go somewhere that was probably unsafe to get a foreign lady who ran an illegal operation in her basement to “hole punch my face”, as he so lovingly put it. Not even twenty four hours later he paid me double the cost of the piercing itself to take it out (I was a relentlessly stubborn kid), followed by him driving me to our local LifeLabs to get my blood and urine tested for diseases. Everything came back negative, for the record.

My next piercing after that was a navel piercing that I had done (when I was legal to) at a local tattoo/piercing shop. That was easier to hide, so when my mom took me to this electro-therapy session and the therapist asked me about any piercings I was nervous. I told her no, thinking “why the hell would this woman want to see my belly button,” when she pulled out the electric-pen-type device and tried to start the session. It turns out that (and I could be wrong because I don’t know the specifics of the treatment), when you stimulate certain points on the body with slight electric currents you can normalize the functions that those nerve endings control and the belly button is one of those points that would help with either my allergies, seizures or lactose intolerance. Before she could even touch me with her electric pen, I told her I had to pee and I went to the bathroom to take out the belly ring.  I hoped to God that the appointment would be short enough for me to shove it back in without it closing over or scabbing up. I went back to the table and laid down so the therapist could work her magic with her electric pen. She eventually got to my belly button and saw the very obvious hole in my abdomen and asked me about it. My heart was pounding because I didn’t want my mother hearing about this but I think she was on her phone and fortunately didn’t hear. I told the therapist I had the piercing done recently but took it out soon after. She shrugged it off and continued working. When it was over I went to the bathroom again to put it back in. It slid in without a problem and I left her office after a consultation about my dietary habits and little changes I could make to help with hay fever.

I went back several times because I noticed that the hay fever slowly went away and my digestive system could tolerate moderate amounts of lactose again, which I was happy about. I was able to rediscover my love for half and half in coffee and cheese on sandwiches. I eventually stopped going around August because it got expensive and it got hard to make appointments that I could keep. I was a busy sixteen year old, I guess.

My digestive system’s aversion to lactose eventually came back and I found that my hay fever also came back the following September when the ragweed came out. I can’t say with any level of certainty that it helped with my seizures because I hadn’t had any when this treatment started but I had a couple in January following the treatment’s end in August.

Remedy #5 Ancient Chinese Medicine

In 2009, my parents took me to see a Traditional Chinese Herbalist. I was probably thirteen at the time and we packed up the car and drove up town to North York. I was mad that I was missing the first half of a get-together Genn was hosting for what would turn out to be another disappointing attempt to stop my seizures. I wasn’t on my meds at this point so my mom was adamant that we give this doctor a shot.

I don’t remember much about the appointment itself except for the doctor asking us about my medical history and concluding that I was to be given a potent concoction of various herbs once a week, many of which looked like bark pulled fresh from a tree. The doctor gave us five individually packaged baggies of dried herbs and plants and whatnot and explained to my mom that each package was to be put into a big pot and covered with six cups of boiling water and simmered until only one cup of liquid remained.

I was to drink this potion once a week. So every Saturday morning for five weeks straight I awoke to the smell of what can only be described as the damp remnants of a cedar tree forest fire, charcoal, gasoline and sadness.

Now, like I mentioned before, I’m not a picky eater. I never have been. When I was fifteen I ate a nice, warm spoonful of unseasoned lamb brain and washed it down with tepid beer. However, this traditional herbal medicine-based liquid was something I couldn’t stomach. The fact that I had doubts about it working didn’t help it go down either. Every gulp felt like a hopeless effort into stopping something in my brain that was virtually uncontrollable. However I carried on. At the very least, I told myself I would try.

I got through five weeks of treatment before deciding I had enough. I had a seizure on May 22nd of that year after five rounds of this traditional Chinese medicine and declined another appointment with the herbalist. Actually, thirteen year old me threw a fit and my parents didn’t bother fighting back.

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I think my mom thought she was doing more good than harm, and realistically there was no harm done, but the more “remedies” for my seizures that my mother tried, the more exhausted I felt. Over time I started resenting her for putting me through the wringer: I felt smothered and tired and I wanted all of her tactics to stop. I was at peace with the idea of dealing with infrequent seizures without the aid of medical intervention.

Eventually she toned it down. When I got headaches or had seizures she was loving and attentive and as I got older I felt less smothered and suppressed by her constant worrying. I’ve since moved out and I only see my parents every other weekend, but I still get a text at 7:30 in the morning and in the evening every day reminding me about my meds. For that I’m thankful: I would forget most days because I’m a little absent-minded in the morning and usually just shut my alarm off and immediately forget about taking my meds.

I always made it clear to her, though, that I love her and I never blamed her for my epilepsy at all. I never understood the guilt she carried until I got older. I don’t currently have kids but I can’t imagine watching your child suffer and not be able to fight the battle for them. She still comes to appointments with me, and it hurts my heart to still see the guilt in her eyes, even though she isn’t as expressive about it anymore. These days, she just looks tired.

#actually epileptic #life with epilepsy #personal