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#my partner had to check himself into a mental hospital
carolmunson · 10 months
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always something there to remind me (s.h.)
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summary: ten years after the sealing of the upside-down, you and your fiance steve head to a cookout to unwind during memorial day weekend. with steve on edge after a rough half sleep full of night terrors, you hope the day can be salvaged by seeing the party and just relaxing, but a violent thunderstorm changes those plans for the worse. pairings: steve x reader, lumax, edancy. heavy on the steddie brotp tho.
tw: 18+ as always. this story deals with themes of mental illness and ptsd, it is only intended for mature audiences. descriptions of ptsd flashbacks, internal and external (please be advised they are dramatizations). partner violence (unintentional). drinking/smoking. discussions of mental illness. very moody steve but very soft steve. features some tense arguments. smut, like, very loving and passionate smut. this relationship is not perfect, it's also a depiction of a moment in time in 1997. the emotional load was very much a woman's job and i personally think steve would be 'too proud' to be 'too soft' about his stuff. so there are parts that seem kind of 'eh' but -- that's just how things were sorta. gif by @kingofscoops
His pill case sounded like a rattle when you took it from the medicine cabinet, taking it into the kitchen where he was shrugging on his freshly ironed polo. The ironing board and hot iron still set up by the counter. The black stone contrasted nicely against your cherry wood cabinets that he installed two summers ago. That was when you both thought he might be getting better: the night terrors were less and less frequent, the flashbacks far and few between, he was less tense, less irritable. Seeking you constantly for soft touches and kisses, any kind of affection he could pull from you he'd take willingly. Two years ago was your two year anniversary -- when he finally told you the real story. Why he had all those scars, why he can't sleep, why he wakes up in a cold sweat crying. Why you'd never been able to figure out which health care company was providing him with so much medication and therapy when he was working part time at the hospital -- it's because it was the FBI.
It was two years ago where they took you to an underground office where they told you everything. Steve sat next to you, gripping your hand so tightly you thought it might break. They reassured over and over that nothing was coming back, that everything was over, but that Steve and his friends will likely never recover emotionally and mentally from what they endured. Four years into things now, you were both his fiance and his nurse. You checked in monthly with his caseworking team, but in these last few months, they've had nothing but shaky reports. You wondered if maybe his mind just isn't as sharp as it used to be -- you both just entered your thirties, maybe things get knocked loose quicker when you've been to hell and back. "Here, honey," you say softly, putting his pill case on the table. He looks at them and sighs, amber eyes lingering on the 'Saturday' section of the pill box. "Let me get you some wa--" "You don't need to give me my pills every day," he says -- it's soft and sharp, "I know I have to take them. I've been takin' them for ten years."
You offer him a tight smile, "I know, Stevie..." You trail off. 'It's important that he feels in control of the situation, a lot of his role when he was in this situation was to protect others. Try not to baby him about it, he might be fragile, but he doesn't like to feel like he is.'
"It's just...I don't want a repeat of last year," you quietly remind him. He had gotten too sure of himself when he started to feel better -- missing days, stopping altogether, off and on.
He reaches for the pill case and pops open the Saturday square, tossing the main five pills into his palm and then into his mouth. Pain, anti-depressant, anti-anxiety, migraine, blood thinner. The heavy stuff sat in the cabinet above the fridge: Quaaludes, Oxycontin, Sumatriptan, Clozapine -- among others. Every day was a reminder to him that he didn't come out of this a stronger person. His dad let him know that at every visit, treating him like he had a son made of glass. "Don't," he says after he swallows, "Don't start with me."
Your eyes narrow in on the finger he puts up in warning and travels down to his big hand, a vein popping in his forearm and under the band of his watch. His bicep flexes against his polo, you follow it across the expanse of his chest and down the other arm, landing back on the pill case.
You knew last night what kind of day it would be this morning. Desperate reaches for you while he woke up from another nightmare, his damp chest up against yours while he hid his face in your neck. He hugs you so tightly to him so he doesn't float away, and you match his strength as best you can until he falls back asleep. Sometimes it takes hours of stroking his hair and soothing him before he feels safe enough to even close his eyes. In the years you've been together, he's been more and more embarrassed over these needier nights. 'It's just, baby -- I'm a man. I have to get over all this shit.'
"I'm not starting anyth--" "You are," he warns, eyes narrowing. He clenches his jaw, "Don't."
"M'sorry," you breath out. You take the pill case when he sets it back down and bring it back upstairs to the main bathroom. You refill the case before placing it back in the medicine cabinet with a sigh. When it closes you look at yourself in the mirror, no longer the fresh 26 year old he met at the hospital admin desk when he started his part time job as an assistant in the children's psych floor. Gaining hours towards getting his pediatric therapist licensure to help kids who were like him and his friends -- well, sort of. To some extent. You smooth over your button down dress, his favorite one in your closet -- navy blue with beige flowers littering the fabric. It flounces over you in dips and swoops, falling just under your knee. Another sigh and you grab your purse from the bedroom and slip on your sandals, clip clopping down the stairs where you hear him grab the keys. Another Saturday morning where the group gets together and just hangs out, even though Steve sees Eddie, Rob, and Dustin pretty often throughout the week. They've been doing it for years now, but the outside buzzed with the promise of summer, Memorial Day weekend making everyone feel more at ease. Everyone except Steve.
He slams the car door when he gets in the drivers seat, making you jump in the leather of his Lexus. He runs his hands over his jean clad thighs, having grown in size over the last six years with age and trips to the gym. 'I just wanna be in like, peak physical condition if anything tries to come back. I wanna be more ready than when I was a kid, y'know?' And while the muscle was certainly titilating, it made for a very wary you when things went left. "Don't be like that, Stevie," you say softly, your voice calm and gentle like it is with patients on the floor, "I promise I wasn't trying to get on your case. Do you -- I don't know, do you wanna just stay home?" "No," he snaps, looking ahead toward the road as he starts the car, "I didn't pack a cooler full of all the shit you made for this cook-out just the stay home." "Can you relax?" you ask a little harsher than you planned, "Are you even good to drive?" "I'm good. To drive," he says through gritted teeth, pulling down the street. "Are you sure? 'Cause -- Honey you -- you didn't sleep so good last night and I --" He hits the breaks hard, stopping short at a stop light turning to look at you, tilting his head a bit to glare at you down the slope of his straight nose.
"Drop it," he says, the tenseness in his voice sends a chill up your spine. "Stevie I'm not trying t --" "Drop. It." he warns again, "Don't make me raise my voice at you." "Don't talk to me like that," you say sharply while he pulls the car forward when the light turns green. "Then don't talk to me like I'm a fucking child," he snaps back. "Well maybe if you didn't have an attitude with me like one I wouldn't have to," you cross your arms over your seat belt and huff. He shakes his head slowly, tongue tight between his teeth. He thought he knew better than to fall in love with someone who had a tongue as sharp as his. "You're askin' for an argument when you say shit like that to me," he says lowly, the Lexus crunching over helicopter seeds while he navigates through the neighborhood. You see his shoulders rise and fall while he attempts to steady himself -- fuse lit and ready to blow. "I'm sorry," you follow up, a deep breath filling your chest. You uncross your arms to lean your elbow on the edge of the window, resting your cheek in your hand, "I didn't mean that." "You did," he responds, tight and frustrated, quiet. He hastily reaches into his back pocket with one hand, eyes still on the road. Steve pops a cigarette between his full lips and you sigh at the sound of the lighter flicking. “What’s wrong now, hm?” he asks while the cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth, “What’s your problem?” “Nothing,” you say – it’s something. He takes a drag and blows the smoke out the open window, “It’s just that you bought that pack yesterday and it’s already half way gone. You always chain smoke when you –” “Give me a fucking break,” he snaps, voice raising with each word, “God, can you let me have fuckin’ anything?” “No Steve, I guess not. God forbid I look out for your heal–” you start sarcastically. “Look out for yourself, baby,” he says sharply into the rearview so you can see his glare, “I’m doin’ just fine without you on my back.” You bicker the rest of the way to Ed and Nancy’s house, he only raises his voice one more time. 
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Eddie and Nancy's wedding was one for the ages, something about the mixture of straight laced and all over the place that made sense when they tied the knot. The pair, you were told, seemed unlikely until Eddie was in recovery after being removed from the Upside Down. He was down there for six months, tested on for another six. The Party and the older kids would visit him every day, keeping him updated and fed and hydrated. They'd cheer him on when he made advances in his mobility -- but for the most part he just needed rest. Nancy was working a lot, throwing herself into journalism like she always wanted, so she'd come to the hospital late. She wasn't really one for small talk so instead, she'd just read. She'd read aloud while he was asleep, her voice slow and calm -- stoic. Keeping him lulled like still water, she didn't even know if he knew she was there. One night, she picked up where she left off on the first installment of Lord of the Rings, continuing in her soft stoic voice. She watched him lay there with his eyes closed, breath steady, the beeps of the hospital machines in quiet rhythm with him. She at frist felt silly before she started, but maybe in his dreams he could hear her, and maybe just maybe if she does something fun, he won't have nightmares tonight. So she tries it...she puts on a silly voice for Samwise, and she continues with her silly voices. Gruff and manly for Aragorn, gleeful for Sam, some weird form of Scottish for Gimli. She bites her lip, smiling as she tries each one, shaking her curly head at her ridiculousness and stops. Then she hears it...the low rumbling giggle from Eddie in his hospital bed. "Keep going, it's funny..." he said with a grin, eyes still closed. "You can hear me?" she asked, trying to stifle her giggle. "I can hear you every night," he said, eyes peering open slightly, "It's the best." "Do you want me to keep reading?" she asked with a blush. He nods, a soft grin pulling up on his lips while he eyes closes again, "Only if you do the voices."
When you park in the driveway it's clear that the rest of the group arrived before you, their cars already Tetris'd into their places. Steve lugs the cooler out of the back seat with a grunt, hoisting it to rest on his broad shoulder. You roll your eyes at his machismo, like someone is watching him at all times and he has something to prove. You both walk to the back, the sounds of music and conversation and laughter bubbling louder and louder as you get to the gate of the yard.
A symphony of 'Heeeyyy!' and 'There he is!' and 'Finally!' come from the group as he opens the gate and you follow in toe. Eddie comes over quickly to help with the cooler, his hair still as long as it was when he was 20 – the only real updates being his five o’clock shadow and the ring in his nose. A few more weary tired lines by his eyes. His home made Iron Maiden muscle tee had a small sweat mark by the neckline – they must’ve been out here getting ready all morning. “Hey man,” he grins when the cooler gets set down, pulling Steve in for a tight hug. “Hey,” Steve smiles, patting his back hard, savoring the hold. “You alright?” Eddie asks when he lets go, putting a hand to his face, “You feeling okay?” Steve smiles tightly and nods but Eddie only half buys it, returning his look before turning to you. He comes forward, kissing both your cheeks with his full lips, scruff scratching at your skin, “Hi, sweetheart.” “Hi Ed,” you grin, watching everyone else come up to say their hellos. “Where’s Nance?” Steve asks, but his question is answered when she waddles out of the sliding door of the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade. From the back, you’d have no idea she was seven months pregnant, but from the side – let’s just say, it was gonna be a real big boy. “Honey, what did I say?” Eddie calls out, walking over to her and taking the pitcher. “It’s not even heavy,” she chides back with an exasperated eye roll. You giggle at their bickering, listening to their sweet back and forth with a gentle ache in your chest. You wonder if Steve will be the same way when you’re pregnant. You wonder if the back and forths will sound so sweet, so innocent, so soft. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the cooler opening, turning to look and grab what you can to put in the fridge inside. Steve takes the meat out to put by the grill and a few appetizers that you put together last nice. You take the icebox cake and chocolate covered strawberries, hurrying with them through the sliding door into the kitchen. “I know, mommy just thinks she can do it all,” Eddie coos, resting his hands on Nancy’s stomach while she slices cheeseburger toppings on the counter, “She just won’t rest, are you gonna be like that too? You gonna run me ragged? You gonna be just like mommy?” Nancy laughs and it’s half airy, half from deep in her belly, “Look, it’s just better if I’m active so that I’m not surprised by it when he’s born.” “I know,” he says, kissing her cheek, “I know. You still love me, Wheeler?” “Love you always,” she grins, blushing when she sees you come in with desserts, “Oh! Oh my goodness, let me help you!” “I got it!” you say, “Just hope there’s room in the fridge!” When everything’s loaded up you give each other a hug, watching as Eddie and Steve have a mildly stern conversation about who is grilling what. ‘It’s my grill.’  ‘And? It’s my meat.’ 
“Do you think they should just kiss?” you ask while you watch them. “Honestly, I feel like they need to at this point," she laughs, "Go on outside, I’ll be out in a few,” Nancy encourages and you make your way back out into the very early summer heat – mugginess starting to soak the air around you. Before you know it, you’re already being pulled over to the picnic table to watch a game of Magic the Gathering between Lucas, Max, Dustin, Mike, and Will. El doesn’t come back to Hawkins very much,so you’ve been told – she’s the only person from the group you haven’t met. “So is this like D&D?” you ask, resting your cheek against your palm while you lean on the table. “Yes and no,” Max explains, looking at her options, “It’s like…” “Like poker but D&D,” Dustin says, making Mike, Will, and Lucas snort. “I think that’s the easiest way to explain it to you,” Mike says. “I trust that,” you laugh with them. You’ve been consistently hopeless with trying to learn the mechanics of Dungeons and Dragons but still enjoy watching, loving it more when Steve decides to join a campaign. He lets loose in ways you’ve never seen when he does, smiling and laughing, free like a child in the summertime. The sun beating on your back suddenly disappears when you hear Steve come up behind you with a hand on your shoulder, “Can I have my glasses, honey?” “They’re in the glove box,” you say, turning around, “Why do you need them?” “Oh, is Erica making you read her thesis outline?” Lucas asks, “Just tell her to buzz off. She already passed it in.” “Sinclair – don’t be an asshole,” Steve gives him a look that can only be described as ‘bitchy’, “She wants some assurance. We need another psychologist in the family, and she’s obviously the only one smart enough to get it done.” “Rude,” Max deadpans, flicking her eyes up at him. “You’re rude, twerp,” he says back, he turns back to you after sucking his teeth, "My glasses?"
“I just said, in the glovebox,” you repeat, a little sharper than you meant to. He lets out a huff through his nose, looking at you like he can’t believe you’d get snippy with him before stomping off toward the gate of the yard. “Is he alright?” Dustin asks quietly, “I saw him on Thursday he just…I don’t know, he seems a little tense.” “He had a bad night,” you explain, toying at a splinter in the wood, “He’ll be okay.” The sun disappears again but not from the expanse of your fiance’s shoulders and chest, but from a thick cloud moving slowly across the sky. The relief from the heat is almost welcomed until you feel the humidity raise a bit in the air – a little too tight, a little too suffocating for your taste. 
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The party is in full swing while Meredith Brooks’ ‘Bitch,’ blares from the boom box, Nancy and Max screaming the lyrics with abandon while the boys groan. You smile at how much fun they’re having, the afternoon going smoothly enough that you haven’t had time to notice how cloudy the sky had become. Your eyes linger on Steve, glasses on while looking at Erica’s thesis outline with her on the back porch. He had a pen in one hand and a cigarette in the other, the fifth one in the last hour and a half.  "You got something here," he says to her, tapping his pen while continues reading, "Your argument's really strong -- especially about the rates of homelessness, it's almost always trauma related." "Well -- I am me," she says. He raises his brows and nods in agreement. "Can't spell America without Erica," he teases. You watch him, how gentle he is and how he taps through outline, asking her questions about how she feels about the finished thesis, where she got it bound, if the articles he sent over were helpful. They speak in words you don't understand, but it's okay -- he looks calmer, brows softened while they talk, so encouraging. "I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint, I do not feel ashamed --"
Eddie's rasp pierces the groups singing and conversation as he belts the lyrics next to his wife. Everyone looks up to watch him go, laughing as he does. "We should cover this," he grins, "Me and the guys, we gotta cover this at the next show." "So you can get boo'd off the stage?" Mike laughs. "So I can make sure your ass doesn't get in the bar?" he asks back. Mike scowls while Dustin laughs at him -- it's always smarter to not try it with Eddie, he'd always get you back ten fold. With a jolt, you feel something cold hit your hand, looking down to see a water drop splat against your skin. Then another, and another, and another. After the fourth or fifth, the rain starts to come down -- and then it starts to pour. "Alright!" Nancy calls, "Everyone grab something and head inside." The Party rises, wincing as the rain pellets down on them while everyone grabs a foil tray or covered Pyrex filled with food. You follow suit, hurrying inside with the undressed cheeseburgers and buns, laying them safe on the counter in the kitchen. Everyone else starts to file in, Steve and Eddie turning off the grill while the sky starts to darken significantly. The first rumble of thunder sends everyone's face to a flat line -- you wished Robin wasn't spending the weekend in New York City so that you'd have someone on the front lines with you and Nancy to keep everyone at ease. Nancy and Robin definitely had their moments but had a much tighter grasp on the world around them now.
A few flashes of lightening crack followed by deep rumbles of thunder. Boom, crack! Boom, crack, crack! You notice everyone resettle themselves around the kitchen table -- jittery, quiet. You sit down across from Steve while he looks down, following the woodgrain with his finger. You keep your gaze on his chest, watching for a tell -- he swallows the frustration he feels from having your eyes on him. "It's alright guys, just a storm," Nancy reminds everyone gently while she brings in the last of the food from outside. Eddie gets her seated before opening things back on the counter, the kitchen smelling like barbecue while he opens the foils. The conversations start around you again while you sit across from Steve, the tension sitting like a weighted stone in your chest. Another flash of lightning and that's when you notice it, the twitch of his hand. The thunder rumbles and he reaches up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger under his glasses. Shit. "You okay, honey?" you ask him softly. He swallows, jaw clenching, "Mhm." "Okay," you nod, trying not to bring attention to it just yet, just incase it passes. The thunder booms again and he lets out a breath through his nose, he takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes more agressively. You tap your foot under the table and he can hear it, he can hear everything in the room -- the scrapes of foil on foil. The separate conversations. Eddie's laugh while he talks to Nancy. The clinks of silverware. Ice in cups. The drumming of fingers. Your tap. Tap. Tap. Tapping. Under the fucking table could you just stop tapping your fucking foot -- The next crack of lightening is so intense it shakes the house and everyone gets quiet. 'Just a storm', Nancy reminds, but her voice sounds far away. Thunder rumbles again in the distance and he swears when the lightening flashes through the windows it's red. He rubs his eyes again, a short burst of breath coming through his nose. 'Honey?' he hears you but its like he has cotton in his ears. The thunder rumbles again, the slick squelching of vines starts to creep into the sound of it. Another crack of lighting and the lights in the kitchen flicker. But when they turn back on Steve isn't with the group anymore. He's not even in the kitchen. He's back at the Creel House. 'Baby? Steve?' your voice is distant -- does Vecna have you? Did he find you? Is he taking you away from him? Steve whimpers, getting out of the chair, pulling at the roots of his light brown locks -- desperate to pull himself out of the memory, "Help, please..."
"I'm here, Steve," you say rounding the table while the rest of the group stands back, getting ready to help. Max grabs a boom box and Lucas runs to his car to grab his tapes with everyone's favorite songs on it -- just in case. Dustin approaches him slowly, hands out in front of him while Steve shrinks to the floor, back against the cabinets. "Steve, it's me, it's Dustin," he says calmly and slowly, "You're in Eddie's kitchen, Steve." But Steve only hears Dustin saying his name -- Dustin must be in trouble. "I'm coming," Steve says, eyes shut tight, falling further away. You watch as sweat grows on his hair line and neck, muttering a fuck under you breath. This was gonna be a bad one. "Honey, honey," you continue, kneeling down in front of him to ease his hands off of his hair, "You're okay, you're safe. I'm with you." 'Honey.' He hears your voice in the distance, searching for you in the blue black haze of the Upside Down, the thick particles of dust in his eyes. The slither of vines covers the walls and the floors while he ascends the stairs -- where are Nancy and Robin? Weren't they with him? "Nance?" You watch him call out for Nancy and she goes to get up but Eddie puts his hand delicately on her shoulder. He shakes his head no at her, "Just talk to him," he says to her. 'I'm here, Steve, it's okay!' 'It's okay!' But it's not Nancy's voice, it gets more an more deep, more gravelly, more like him. Steve flinches in front of you, soft 'no, no, no's slipping from his mouth. 'Stevie...' Where are you? Does he have you? 'S̷T̴E̶V̴I̷E̵.'
The sound of Vecna's voice booms in his ears, the thunder rumbling, the red lighting flashing to light up the house. You were never here -- Vecna tricked him. He breathes hard, looking around while the vines snake around, searching for him. "Okay, okay baby," you say hurriedly, watching him while he starts to hyperventilate. You raise your voice to get through to him, "Honey you gotta take some deep breaths for me, okay? Can you hear me?" Max and Lucas come back, smacking the tape into the radio and fastforwarding until Marc Cohn's Walking In Memphis crackles through the speakers. They both heave breaths while the song plays, leaning over the table to settle down from running. "You hear the song, honey?" you ask, "Can you hear it? Talk to me, Steve." You reach your hands up, sliding slowly up his chest to rest your hands by his jaw in a soothing touch. But for Steve in the Creel House, the vines have found him, slithering up his chest and around his neck, tighter and tighter against the wall. He tenses, big hands coming up and grabbing your wrists with a grip so tight you whimper. "No, shit, shit, shit! Fuck! STOP! NO! I CAN'T!" he panics, gasping for breath while his nails dig into your forearms and drag painfully downward why he tries to pull you away. "Ow, ow baby, hey, you're hurting me," you yelp out. He doesn't stop, eyes switching from tightly closed to open and unfocused while he reaches up to your biceps, clawing at them in defense. You reach out a final time. "Honey, honey, please, it's me," you say, tears balancing on your lower lashes while he rises, taking you with him. He handles you real rough, grabbing you by the shoulders and throwing you to the ground with a loud thud. And god does it hurt.
"HEY!" Eddie's voice booms out, gruff and loud like the rumbles of thunder outside. He gets behind Steve, pulling his arms close to his chest while Steve struggles against him. Erica and Mike hurry toward you to help you slowly up off the floor. You reel at first, wanting to run back to him. "Stay in front of her Wheeler," Ed warns, "You all stay right there." You stand behind Mike with Erica who takes your hand tightly in hers. You feel the pulse of pain in your arms when you look down -- gouges and deep scrapes, the blood shines in the line of the kitchen. You shake your head out of it and watch on as Eddie and Dustin do what they can to help -- the song continues to play in the background. "No, no," Steve whimpers, twisting his wrists in Eddie's grasp to break free, but in this state Eddie is stronger. He pulls him close, Steve back to his chest while they sink back down against the cabinets. "Shh," Eddie soothes, still holding him tight, "We got you, just listen -- you're in my kitchen. You hear the song playing?" Steve grunts, thrashing while Eddie hugs him tighter to him. "Steve, listen, listen to the song," Dustin says, "Focus on me and Eddie's voice, listen." Steve struggles, less intense than before, "Shh, shh, it's okay Harrington," Eddie soothes, rocking him slowly back and forth. "They need me," Steve cries weakly, breaths slowing while he pulls again at Eddie's hold, "Gotta save 'em..." "Steve," Dustin says again, getting closer. He rubs his shoulder slowly, pressing his thumb into the joint, "We're safe, all the kids are safe." "Safe..." he repeats back. Eddie sighs a little in apprehensive relief, letting go of one wrist to run a hand over his head, turning Steve's face into his chest and holding him close. "That's right, Steve," Eddie says softly, "Safe." 'Saw the ghost of Elvis, on Union Avenue, Followed him up to the Gates of Graceland And they watched him walk right through...' Steve can hear the lyrics, warbled and tinny in the Upside Down. 'Safe, safe, safe.' Echoing through the walls -- it gets dimmer. 'Now security they did not see him, They just hovered round his tomb...' Dimmer and dimmer. 'Almost over buddy, I can tell, we're right here. You feel Henderson?' A soft warm rub on his shoulder, the lyrics to the song, Eddie's voice. The sound of vines fade away, he hears the rain, it fades to black. "Walkin' in Memphis..." Steve whispers, half confused, while his eyes open and focus -- squinting in the light of the kitchen. Overwhelmed he looks around while the room tilts on it's axis. He grips Eddie's leg tightly to steady himself, he's breaths picking up again. "It's okay buddy, it's just us," Eddie says again, "You with me?" Steve nods, face cracking while he lets out a broken sob. You can only watch while Eddie flicks his eyes up at you in another warning to not come closer yet. Dustin let's go while Eddie starts to hoist him up, wrapping Steve's arm around his shoulder while he helps him to the guest room down the hall. "C'mon big boy," he says gently, "Let's get you some rest."
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Things feel a little quiet after Eddie comes back from the guest room, he's tense -- no longer having fun the way he was before. His eyes are dark while he heads outside into the rain to have a cigarette. Lucas turns off the stereo and The Party sits back down at the kitchen table for a moment to decompress. They silently take out of the Magic the Gathering cards and start to set up again, Erica joins them seamlessly. When things seems a semblance of stable, Nancy gets up and takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, "Let's check you out, alright?"
You sit on the toilet seat cover while Nancy takes out a first aid kit from under the sink. You listen while she hums the climax of Whitney's 'I Have Nothing' quietly, searching the medicine cabinet for some Bactine for your cuts.
"Are you okay?" she asks, taking both of your hands to outstretch your arms, she turns them to see the damage -- she tries to hide her face of disappointment but it's clear.
"I'll be fine," you say softly while she wipes down the gouges and scrapes, "I can take care of it Nance."
"No, you just -- just let me," she says softly. The Bactine stings -- so does the way she looks at you -- pitifully. You hear Eddie's boots clomp down the hallway before he shows up at the door frame of the bathroom.
"You okay, sweetheart?" he asks -- you wish people would stop asking. They only ask when they see him lose control. You do this all the time, you take care of him all the time.
"I'm okay," you repeat, "A little banged up, but y'know. It's okay."
"Does he do that alot?" Eddie asks, his jaw clenching, "Does he hurt you a lot?"
"This is one of maybe...I don't know -- four times he's gotten physical with me during an episode," you explain, "And you all know about them."
"Does he hurt you when he's here?" Eddie asks, tapping at his temple.
"No, Ed, don't be ridiculous," you sigh, exasperated that he'd even ask.
"Steve's not like that, Eddie," Nancy says, "We've been over this." "Well, here's the thing Nance," he starts, tense, "We're ten years out of this shit and no matter how bad my shit got I've never put a hand on you like that. Ever." "Eddie --" "No, no, listen," he says, "I don't like that, and I especially don't like that happening in my house in front of my pregnant wife." "And what would you like me to do about it, Ed?" you snap, "I can't -- fuck -- I can't fucking fix him for you." "I'm not asking you to fix him," he says back, a pain deep in his chest coming through with his voice, "I'm asking you to be sure that you still want to be a part of this -- your wedding's what -- October? You really wanna be worrying about this?" "For better or for worse, right?" you ask back, choking on the lump in your throat, "That's the promise." Eddie tucks his lips in, his own eyes getting teary while he scans the gouges that Nancy carefully puts bandaids over. "Ice your hip and shoulder for the first couple days," he mutters, biting the edge of his them, "After a fall like that. Then heat." You nod, quietly murmuring a thank you. "S'what my mom used to do," he says under his breath. Eddie scans you slowly one more time, swallowing hard before pushing off the door frame and walking back down the hall. You hear their bedroom door click closed in the distance. "You know how he gets," Nancy says, "Stuff like that y'know -- that's hard for him." "I know." She takes a washcloth, running it under cold water before squeezing it out. Droplets fall on the fabric of her light purple maternity shirt, leaving dark people marks on the top of her belly. She hands it to you. "Here, for his head," she says softly, "In case he's not all the way back yet."
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You creep slowly into the guest room, seeing him laying on his stomach with half his face buried in the pillow. His sculpted arms tucked under it to give him something to hold. "Baby?" you ask quietly, "You awake?" He nods with his eyes closed and you look him over -- big hulking man who needs to be held. He hates it but you can't help but love him for knowing he needs it. You put the wet face cloth on the side table, sliding down next to him while he moves over to his side. In one swift motion you've replaced the pillow -- arms wrapping tight around your waist and up your back, one hand molding over your shoulder. He hides his face in your neck and you can feel his tears on his lashes and cheeks. His shoulders shake while he cries for a while, cold sweat damp on his shirt and the back of his neck. You never check how long he cries for – as long as he does. “I’m here,” you say softly, nails grazing his scalp in a steady swipe, “I’m right here.” You adjust a bit in his hold and you feel his grip tighten slightly, a soft whine of desperation leaking from his throat. “Don’t go, please,” he begs softly. “M’not going anywhere big guy,” you soothe, “This wedding’s already put us ten grand in the hole. Where would I even go, now?” You hear a soft ‘tsss’ come out of him, a tug of a smile against the skin of your neck where he hides. 
“Oh, is that funny?” you joke, still coasting your fingers through his hair. He groans, letting his arms let go of you so he can sit up, you can see the tension in his body still. Steve looks down at you with tear stained cheeks and tired eyes, beckoning you forward with his fingers. You sit up for your thank you kiss, his warm palm cupping your cheek while he holds you gently in place. He kisses once slowly, then twice, three times – holding the last so you know he means it. When you break away he rests his forehead against yours, offering a few shallow breaths. You stand up off the bed while he sits off the edge of it, standing between his thighs. 
"Did I hurt you?" he asks softly. He asks after every episode ever since he did hurt you back when you first started dating. A swift smack to the arm that stung for a solid twenty minutes afterward with the amount of power he put into it. It welted. He cried for hours. He wrote you love letters every day for a week. 
You nod, showing him the scratches and bandages on your arms, "I think you thought I was a vine or something. You threw me. Like, to the ground. It was pretty hard."
His lower lip quivers, "No, no, no." “No, Steve,” you assure, trying to calm him, “It’s okay, you didn’t know. It’s alright, I’m alright. It was an accident.” 
His face contorts while the tears start again, his big hands reach out to your waist, pulling you close to him, "It's not okay, it's not alright."
His voice raises an octave while he cries, "I'm sorry, baby."
"It's okay, Stevie, shh," you whisper to him, he pulls you in tighter, body shaking while pressing his nose against your cheek.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he cries, sniffling, "You know I didn't mean it."
"I know you didn't," you say back, your own cry getting caught in your throat. He sniffles again, leaning back to face you, both of his hands cupping your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing the apples.
"I love you," he says with a depth and intensity that makes the lump in your throat give way. You cry with him and it breaks his heart, "I love you so much honey, you know I’d never…"
You nod, trying to calm your cry the way he was able to calm his -- so used to swallowing it up even though you'd beg him not to.
"I – shit – I have to tell you something," he says softly, hands sliding from your cheeks back down to your waist and then your hips. He looks down at the small triangle of mattress between you and the apex of his thighs.
"What's up, Steve?" you ask, running your hands through his hair again soothingly, "What is it?"
He lifts his head up, eyes shutting at the comforting touch, but when he opens them he looks defeated -- guilty, "I haven't been taking my meds at night. I was -- was flushin’ them cause I just -- baby, I don't know. I can't keep depending on this shit."
"Steve."
"I know," he nods, "I know...That's why -- that's why my shit's getting worse."
"You're not just taking this stuff to take it," you say, cupping his cheeks, "It's to keep you here. It's to keep you with me."
"I know," he repeats, voice cracking again, "I'll call my shrink tomorrow I promise. I'll get back on track. Fuck -- I'm sorry -- and I'm -- I'm sorry I was so mean to you this morning."
"It's okay," you nod, pressing a kiss to his forehead. You drop your hands and rub his shoulder, "I think we should go home, alright? We can get on the couch for the night and just rest."
"Okay," he says quietly, nodding. He slowly gets up off the bed, a little dizzy, using you for support. You both slowly walk out of the bedroom, Nancy peeking around the end of the hall.
"Everything good?" she asks.
You smile at her, "Yeah, I think we're gonna head home."
She smiles tightly, heading into the kitchen where the rest of the group still sits, eating and talking. Their heads turn when you both come into view -- soft eyes and smiles.
"I'm okay, guys," Steve nods, barely able to meet their gazes, "It's fine."
Nancy approaches you with a few tupperwares filled with food and dessert, "We'll get the cooler back to you on Tuesday."
"Don't worry about it," you smile, gathering the tupperware in your arms. You watch as the group gets up one by one to give Steve a hug goodbye. Their movements are slow and controlled, warning touches on his shoulders beforehand to remind him ‘It’s just me, it’s just my arms, I’m hugging you’. Soft mumbled words of support, nothing too loud – don’t startle each other. Wraiths of the friendship they all shared earlier. Rehearsed reactions to all of their sensitive needs – if you’ve seen one episode, you’ve seen all of theirs. And you had, once or twice. “I’ll get a copy bound for you,” Erica says while she hugs him. “You make me so proud, Sinclair,” he smiles. Nancy walks you both to the door and you turn, “How’s Ed?” “He’ll call later,” she nods, a look behind her eyes that matches yours. You hug goodbye, share quick reminders about food for the baby shower and a few crafty decoration plans before heading to the car with a very tired Steve. The rain patters on the hood of the Lexus while you both sit in the leather interior, this time with you in the driver's seat. He rubs at his temples with his eyes closed while you rifle through your purse for a sandwich baggie of emergency migraine medicine. “Here,” you say, handing him the pill, “Before it starts to get bad.” “Hmm,” he grumbles in agreement, popping it in his dry mouth to suck it down.  “We’ll be home soon, okay?” you say, hand coming down on his thigh reassuringly, “Just close your eyes for now.” 
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He takes the tupperwares when you get out of the car, fishing his keys out of his back pocket while he does. His strides are long while you hurry up behind him, following him into the house only to bump into his back while he’s stopped by the thermostat to turn on the air. “Sorry,” you say softly. “S’okay,” he replies back, barely above a whisper. He puts the food in the fridge while you head upstairs to start a shower, a ritual you’ve both come to learn well after days or nights like these. You take out the good soap, the shower oil, all the aroma therapy you can to get him to ease up. Anyone else watching you get things ready would assume it was about to be a very sexy time for you. On the same coin, these showers are probably the most intimate moments you have with each other. He comes in as the room starts to steam and you help him ease off his polo, you start on the buttons of your dress while he takes off his jeans and socks. He helps with your bra, both of you shedding your underwear at the same time before you step in. Steve soothes almost instantly, his muscles relaxing under the hot stream, sighing further while he gets soaped up. You don’t have to be in there with him, but you do. He needs you so close so he doesn’t float away. His favorite part comes near the end, sitting in the flow of the shower together while you wash his hair. His eyes flutter closed while your nails scratch and massage him – he swears his hair is even thicker than it was before with all the blood flow you encourage. You wash his hair twice, then deep condition, holding him to your chest while you wait the five minutes it takes to settle in. He leaves soft kisses on your collar bone, on all the marks he left on you in Nance and Eddie's kitchen. He holds your hand, so you can’t float away. You both end up on the couch afterward, the leather groaning beneath you both while you lay across the deep seat cushions, you lay on your back, he lays on his side against you. The heat of his bare chest warms you through your oversized sleep shirt. His soft sweat pants tangle up with your bare legs. You let whatever’s on TV play – reruns you guess, you’re thinking about too many other things. “How’s your head, baby?” you ask while his eyes shut, leaning on your shoulder. “S’fine, better,” he says, he lifts your hand and kisses your fingers before placing both his and your hand on your chest over your heart. The ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dum lulling him to sleep. You half watch TV for however long until your own eyelids get heavy. You click off the TV and opt to turn the stereo on low, just so he doesn’t get lost while he sleeps.
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You wake up to oldies, music your parents would listen to on records in the living room growing up – songs that came out a few years before you were born. Oldies. It's dark outside but you can still hear the rain. Steve’s already awake, just watching you while his hand smooths back and forth over your sternum. “You snored,” he says. “Good,” you reply quietly. You both snort out breathy laughs, feeling the warmth of his lips as they smoosh against your cheek. “How you feeling?” he asks, hand coming up to rest on your cheek, sliding down the side of your neck. “A little banged up,” you say, “Might bruise.” “M’sorry,” he says again, a tinge of guilty pink tinging his ears. “It’s okay,” you repeat for what feels like the thousandth time in the past six hours. “You looked really pretty today,” Steve says gently, almost sheepish, “I should’ve told you.” “You looked really handsome,” you say back, “But you were kind of being an asshole so I didn’t want to tell you.” “You should’ve told me, it probably would’ve cured my PTSD,” he says seriously but sarcastically, “Could’ve saved the entire afternoon if you just said how good I looked. Prob’ly wouldn’t have had an episode.” “You’re such an ass,” you laugh, smiling. He leans in to kiss you and it’s the kind that makes you too weak to stand. That kiss got him a second date, it proved that they said about old King Steve in highschool. On the stereo, Sherry Baby bleeds into Unchained Melody.
His hand reaches up under your neck to tilt you up toward him, tasting your tongue with his, guiding you with his kiss, “Angel…” he murmurs. He breathes through his nose while he keeps his lips pressed to yours, desperate to stay here in this moment, attached to you. “Steve,” you say softly, breaking away, “Stevie…” “Please,” he whispers, nuzzling your nose slowly, “Please.” “Lemme take care of you.” “I…” your thoughts trail off while he kisses your neck, sucking and nibbling gently at the spot just by the hinge of your jaw. He waits for your soft sigh, the tilt of your hips towards him – your allowance. He grins when he hears the air pass your lips, the realignment of your spine beneath him while he settles between your squishy thighs. His hands travel south, pushing up the hem of your big t-shirt to your waist, holding you there for a moment while his kiss takes over your mouth again. He tugs your cotton panties down, breaking the kiss while he sits up on the couch to slide them off your ankles. Steve looks down at you with an expression that makes your breath catch in your chest, serious – with supple lips, needy eyes. He leads himself back down again, big hands sliding down the sides of your thighs over your hips to your waist again. Instinctively, your legs spring up to wrap around him while his hips align with yours, feeling his strained cock in his sweats against you. “Jesus…” he whispers again, eyes fluttering closed. He buries his face in your neck while you rock slowly against him, the pressure and friction against the underside of his erection sending low volts through his body. “Mm-mm,” he grunts, shaking his head ‘no’ while mumbling, “It’s supposed to be about you.” “Well stop dangling it in front of me then,” you giggle quietly, he giggles too. The smile sends you reeling, his pretty teeth, the way his nose scrunches. He leans forward again to kiss, he just can’t stop kissing, can’t stop tasting your lips, feeling you against him. Steve’s hand reaches down to pull himself out of his sweats, pushing the waistband to the tops of his thighs while he uses the other to push one thigh out off the couch. “You ready f’me?” he asks huskily, tip dragging slowly from the pool of slick at your opening up in between your folds. He lets his thumb run in slow circles over your clit while he waits for your answer, your slow nod while you lean your head back on the arm rest gives him the okay. He eases himself in slow, the tip pushing past your opening with some resistance. “Open up a lil’, honey,” he mumbles quietly while he guides the tip in again, “Open up for me.”
Your little gasps float out of you and into the fuzzy part of his brain, gliding down his spine. You angle your hips upward, one thigh up against the couch cushions and the other dangling over the edge, spread as wide as you can. He holds himself above you with one arm, the other aiding in pushing himself further in, the tip finally breaching your core. He keeps guiding, slow back and forths while you ease open for him – taking him in, inch by inch. “Oh yes, mhm,” he groans to himself softly, “Thass–hmm-that’s it, angel.” He let’s go when he’s three fourths in, crowding over you, forearms on each side of your head while he strokes slowly to start – getting you used to him, accommodating his size. “That’s good?” he breathes. “Ye-yeah,” you breathe back to him. His mouth latches to yours again, feeling him guide your hands up beside your head, lacing fingers while he presses you deeper into the couch cushions. He keeps his strokes slow and deliberate, feeling every ridge of you inside, how you suck him in and hug him tight in place – but how he feels isn’t nearly as important. It’s the way your brows contort, the way you bite your lip, your whines into his mouth while he kisses you. Each slow thrust makes you coat him in a new flow of slickness. “C’mere,” he says into your jawline, letting go of one hand to sneak behind you at the waist, pulling you flush to him. The new angle makes you let out a whine while he hits a spot deep inside you, he grunts at the reaction, the feeling of you taking him in. His pace picks up the smallest tick, face centimeters from yours – your noses brush, lips barely touching while his amber eyes keep steady on yours. You let out short huffs, little whimpers every time the head of his cock pushes deeper with every roll of your hips. “S’nice, hm?” he asks, brows slanting, softening. “Mhm,” you squeak back, “S-so good, honey.” Your legs pull in again, socked heels resting on the top of his butt while he sighs at the change in pressure. “Thassperfect, god,” he hisses out, head dropping down to your chest, pressing sloppy kisses above your breasts while he gathers himself. He groans into your neck while wet warmth tightens over him, soft velvet walls coaxing him closer and closer to the edge. 
Steve’s shoulders flex while he balances on his forearms above you again, your forgotten hand taken by his, fingers interlocked. His face inches from yours while he looks at you, the way your eyes flutter, the soft parting of your lips, the high pitched  ‘Uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn,’s coming out of them — you’re so beautiful.
“So pretty,” he says to you, huffing a breath into a smile, “So pretty, baby.” 
You kiss him a thank you. You see him swallow when he breaks away, his eyes getting glassy. 
“S’gonna be okay,” he assures, nodding down at you, nose to nose, “We’re gonna be okay.” Slow thrusts  between statements. 
“Gonna get married,” he says, a groan flowing right down into your mouth while he kisses you, “Gonna be just like Ed and Nance, right?” 
You nod while his thrusts get more passionate, deeper.
“Yeah? That’s nice?” he asks, “Marry you? Take you just like this after the wedding?” 
“Yeah,” you gasp back, “Yes, Stevie.” 
“Give you a baby?” he asks in a low whisper into your skin, lips pressing against your cheek, his strong nose dragging against your cheek bone, “Give you so many babies. You want that?” 
“I want that,” you nod, face pinching while you feel yourself building up and up in a slow churn. 
“You want that?” he asks again, coming back to hover over you — tears in his eyes, “You want that with me?” 
You nod to each other while he embraces you in an old movie kiss, wrapping himself around you, pressing him to his chest while his thrusts get purposeful, controlled. 
“I love you,” he pants into your ear, “I’m yours, m’all yours.”
“I love you, too,” you rasp back, free’d fingers interlocking in his hair. He gets leverage on his knees, the leather of the couch squeaking under him while he repositions. Soft smacks of skin between you echo in the living room against the backdrop of the low stereo.   “Oh my god, Steve,” you moan out, “You’re – oh god you’re so deep.” “So deep, angel, Christ–” he huffs, trying to make a mental note of this position so he can remember it for October – really make it stick. His thought process stifled when your nails drag down his back, making his passionate thrusts quicken – a signature cocky smirk flick across his lips. “Mmm, that feels good honey?” he asks – he knows the answer. Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, tears glazing over your eyes while he feels you pulse over him. Thank god the couch was leather. Watching you bathe in the afterglow of your orgasm he works you toward the second with ease, chasing his pleasure with each soaking thrust into you – so nice like this, so pliant – his little ragdoll. When he cums it’s deliberate, spilling inside you with your eyes on each other. You give one another breathless kisses, bodies interlocked, sticking to the couch in new found exhaustion. The phone rings. Neither of you get up to answer it. ‘BEEP. You’ve reached the Harrington residence – Did you forget my last name isn’t Harr– If you’re calling before October 1997 then it’s not just the Harrington residence yet but – whatever you know what I mean. Leave a message, we might call ya back.’
“Hey Harrington it’s Munson, um, just making sure you’re okay, man. Sorry I disappeared for a little bit there. Love you, call me back when you can. Bye.” 
thanks for reading. <3
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Modern Arthur Morgan Dad headcannons!!
This was requested by @cantchoosejust1
I had a blast writing the pregnancy headcannons which is listed here on my modern headcannon list
so I am EXCITED to write about how he actually acts as a dad
I mean
Come on, it’s Arthur, he’s gonna be great!
Warnings!: Mentions of pregnancy, obviously, maybe a little bit of NSFW content, with ya know....Arthur being himself and thinking you are his hot and sexy partner, and general raising children items
Tags: @kieropal​ @beea-nie​
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Arthur is a fantastic dad
First off
if we are gonna continue off where we left off in the pregnancy headcannons
yall have twins
and literally
he loves them so much
sometimes you wonder if he loves them more than you
But you know that isn’t true, he loves you and him all the same
He does spend copious amounts of time with them though.
If they wake up in the middle of the night, especially while you are still recovering from your hospital visit
he is up before you can even TRY to get up.
You may wake up, but by the time you do he’s already out of the bed and into the nursery
When you walk in to check on him when he hasn’t returned to the bedroom after about twenty minutes
he’s in the rocking chair, both twins on his chest, which by the way, he never wears a shirt to bed, so this dad bod man has two little twins snuggled onto his chest, his hands over their backs to make sure they don’t go anywhere
and he’s like
half awake
but more asleep than awake at all
so when you come in and you just kinda take a picture of him 
he doesn’t even move
he swears he isn’t snoring
he is
He also like demands that you let him do what he needs to do
He wants you to be as comfortable as possible while you need to rest up and get better
He knows that you’re sore, he knows that you hurt, and he knows that you want to spend time with the babies too
so he will bring them to you 
he refuses to let you walk to them
he brings them to you
He loves to watch you with them, he tells you that he thinks you are a natural and that he loves to see you do even the most basic things with them
of course you tell him that you love to see him with them too, because it’s just so sweet to see how soft he gets looking at them
As time goes on and you get more healed and the twins grow up a little 
you two have so much fun with their milestones
Arthur loves to watch them on their tummies, tummy time is his favorite thing
often times you’ll catch him laying on his stomach too, watching them with his head in his hands and smile on his face
He the first time that one of them rolled over he literally screamed
“Darlin’! Get in here! He rolled over! Little Morgan rolled over!” 
He literally loses his entire collective mind
He has his phone out in an instant and is trying to video them both 
He manages to get the baby girl rolling over and he’s never been happier
he literally loves to show off those videos to the guys, John and Charles see them repeatedly at work
They aren’t even annoyed about it though cause they’ve never seen him happier
(Well, other than when he’s boasting about you that is)
When the two of them sit up on their own, he’s even more excited and he claims he cannot WAIT until he can take them fishing and you have to gently explain to him that they’ve still got a little while yet before they can properly hold a pole
They can’t speak but Arthur is constantly trying to get them to
literally 
always trying to convince them to say “dada” or even “papa” 
he says that he will win and be the favorite parent
(He means it in a completely joking way an sincerely hopes that you are actually the favorite because he has mental issues.)
He loves to watch them hold stuff, so he’ll hand them stuff in a joking way for them to hold cause he thinks its funny
he’ll be doing something and then just hand them like
one of their toys
and just go 
“Here, hold this for me pal, I’m busy.” 
He likes to buy them all kinds of toddler toys they can’t really play with yet too
he bought a little plastic tool set for them and he’s so excited every time they end up grabbing one of the little wrenches from it
He loves them to no ends and every time he’s in public with you and them, like a family dinner he sits and just plays with them rather than actually figuring out what he should be eating
so when the waitress and or waiter comes around he sits there and boasts about them
(You order him a steak usually because you know he’ll eat it and he’s too busy to pay attention, and you get him a coke with it)
He is just the definition of caring father 
as they get older, and they start crawling
he literally laughs the first time he catches it
He is EXCITED
Like
they’re gonna go on so many adventures!
You on the other hand are completely worried
Theres a lot for them to get into in the house, and it’s more worrying than it is exciting for you
but arthur is there to reassure you and tell you that it’ll be okay
He makes sure that he keeps an extra close eye on them 
they do like to get into things
and crawl where they shouldn’t 
but he always makes sure that they’re alright
and that they don’t ya know
kill themselves
by the time their first birthday rolls around Arthur 
I mean
Arthur is just so excited
He also...
well
he is also trying to convince you to have another kid
he thinks they’re growing too fast and while he’s excited for the rest of their lives
He also wants to hold a baby in his arms again
A baby baby
and you have to remind him
that you two should probably wait at least until the twins are at least two years old 
He knows you’re right
and he knows that it makes more sense to have a bigger space between them
but 
he tries to tell you that if you get pregnant NOW
then the kids will be a year and nine months older than the new baby and that’s almost two years difference
and it’s really hard to say no to him
I mean
really hard
He’s really attractive for one thing, he’s your husband, you love him and he’s always hot to you
Literally always attractive to you
he can have baby spit up all over him and you think he’s the most attractive man on the planet
i mean
lets face it
it’s arthur morgan
he’s HOT
So 
It’s hard 
it’s difficult
not to tell him
“Sure, we’ll have another baby”
He tries to ambush you with it after the kids are put in their cribs 
He’ll come up behind you and wrap his strong arms around your waist, kiss your neck and start muttering things in your ear.
“Mmm....Darliin’, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life...you look even better outta those damn clothes”
He’ll gently place his hand on your stomach and lean even closer to your ear 
“You’re so damn hot when you carry my kids too...holdin’ my baby in you...mhm....you remember how they get there don’t you?” 
“Arthur, stop that-”
“Aww...Girl...come on....I love seein’ them pretty faces of yours, but I love finishin’ in ya more. Plus you make a damn good pregnant lady, I’d do it with ya the whole pregnancy if you didn’t have other things to do.”
“Arthur!” 
“What! I’m just tellin’ the truth..” 
You HAVE to tell him no
Make him wait until the twins are at LEAST two.
He loves you and respects you, so I mean
at least he isn’t gonna do anything he shouldn’t 
In the mean time he’ll spend all his energy towards the twins taking their first steps, walking and stumbling all over the house and causing mayhem wherever they go
You help out with them too obviously
I mean
come on they’re your babies too
you love them just as much
but arthur just
I mean
He’s ARTHUR
he loves your kids so much he does everything and anything that has to do with those kids
he literally I mean
all of his time is dedicated to them when he isn’t at work or with you
By the time their second birthday does come around
You guys have a great day
I mean
you celebrated their first birthday with Arthur’s family,  the cakes that they shoved in their faces, the little birthday hats, I mean
the whole shabang
so for the second birthday you take them to what has turned into their favorite park and the whole family has a fantastic time
Arthur sat and fished, keeping one of the twins on his lap while you had the other
let it be know though
literally
the moment the two of you get home 
he is gonna be all up in yo grill as soon as the kids are in bed
“So....the kids are two years old....”
“JUST BARELY ARTHUR!” 
“Mhm....don’t matter, they’re two now, two and nine months when you give birth...” 
“Arthur....”
“Darlin’, come on...I want more babies with ya, you know that, you’re beautiful, you’re damn sexy, and you look so damn good with a baby in the oven-”
“You are so bad-”
“Awww you love it.” 
Needless to say 
you and him are trying for another baby
he will boast about it by the way
not because he’s like 
“haha i am having sex”
but more so like
“Fuck you my wife is hot and I don’t have to pull out bitch” 
Kinda way
I mean
he is trying with you
all the time
literally
all the time
like
comes home after work almost every day and sees if you’re in the mood
if the babies aren’t being taken care of, of course
After you two have the most 
leg shaking
out of breath
sweaty 
sex imaginable
he’ll kiss you passionately 
put a hand around your throat, and hold your ankles in the air to make sure that his seed gets you pregnant.
He stands next to you while you pee on the stick too
literally stands there waiting 
watching you impatiently
“Come onnnn are we gonna have another kid or not?”
“Arthur, we have to wait for ten minutes.” 
“Bullshit!” 
While you wait he’s gonna kiss your face, your neck, your shoulders
and literally anywhere he can find
“I love you, but if this ain’t positive I’m takin’ you right back in that bedroom, and your face ain’t leavin’ that damn pillow ‘til im done with you.”
He’s literally the hottest when he wants to have more kids
When it is postive
he will most likely still do that
because he’s excited
It comes up negative
and 
well
ya know
When you finally do get that positive test he’s at work and you’re taking the twins to Hosea and Dutch’s house to be watched for the day 
You use the bathroom before you leave and take a test
you’re a few weeks late for your period 
so you’re a little interested to see if it is what you think it is
it is
you tell dutch and hosea and they’re so excited to be grandparents pt. 2
You decide to text arthur
and tell him this exactly
“Hey, I have something I wanna talk to you about after work”
He panics a little because he has anxiety
but 
he knows you love him
so he isn’t gonna panic too much
but when he gets home he nervously shuffles a little 
and looks at his feet
he’s a confident man, when the moment’s right
but in times like these
he’s the most shy person he can be
When you kiss him on the cheek he feels a little better and he’ll look up at you 
You just smile widely and hand him the test 
and he starts literally jumping
“We did it?” 
“We did it!” 
“Oho I can’t wait to rub this in john’s face!” 
He’s just so excited again to have another mini you, and mini him, and like
he’s really excited for the twins to have another sibling around
He’s just a fantastic dad, and he’s so happy for the two of you
The twins he tells them that they’re gonna have another sibling
and even though the two of them are a little younger they seem to really get it
Arthur will start laying his head on your stomach with the twins and gently place their hands on your tummy
“Your little sister or brother is in there.”
and he just loves to see you smile as they put their tiny hands on you
He smiles so big 
and just
I mean
he loves you so much
he loves your kids so much
and like
he is in heaven every time he’s with all of you.
He just feels so overwhelmed with love
Sometimes he falls asleep in the twins rooms, even though they don’t really need to be baby babied anymore
and sometimes you’ll hear him talking to them about you and about the new baby and you swear he’s on the verge of tears.
He is literally the perfect husband, the perfect father.
Arthur is everything you wanted and more
And you just
he means the world to you and you make sure he knows that
you make sure he feels loved 
you make sure he knows
and he has literally never felt better in his life than he does when he’s at home with you and his kids.
He has little wallet pictures of all of you
and one of you pregnant that he’ll replace when your baby pops out :)
231 notes · View notes
monsterrae1 · 1 year
Note
Hello lovely Rae! 💖 for the hesitant love prompts: "what can I get you? do you need water? a hug? space?" Pretty pls 💕
Ryan, Baby, I'm so sorry it took me so long to answer this! Things have been, well, they've been better. Hope you like this!
_
Eddie Diaz had been shot more times than anyone should’ve been in one lifetime, he had been to war, he had been buried alive under 40ft of mud, he had nearly drowned while getting himself out of said 40ft of mud, he had survived so many near death experiences, but the tuesday night his appendix decided to burst? Eddie thought for sure he was going to die. 
It really came out of nowhere, he hadn’t been feeling bad at all, no fevers, no nausea, no abdominal pain, he had been completely fine one moment, helping out their vic into the ambulance and calming the nerves of the partner who had never seen a broken leg before, and the next thing he knew he was doubling over in pain, throwing up into the asphalt, his insides feeling like they were tearing open. 
If he didn’t know better he’d think that he had been shot again. 
Bobby and Chim were by his side in an instant asking him what was wrong, and if anything had happen, Eddie could only shake his head, but as soon as they tried to move him, he was hit with another wave of excruciating pain and dropped to the floor, curling into himself. That’s when he felt a couple of big hands cradle his head and brush their fingers over his cheeks.
“Eddie? Eddie, what's wrong?” Buck asked him, and Eddie made an effort to open his eyes again. 
“Hurts, stomach, i don’t know” He grumbled, wishing it would just stop. 
Bobby must’ve called for a second rig because next thing Eddie knew he was being rolled into a gurney and transported to the ER, 
“What the hell is wrong with him, chim?” Buck asked from next to him, Eddie was holding into his hand tight enough that he might’ve done some damage. 
“My best guess? Appendicitis?” 
The last thought of Eddie’s head was, oh fuck, before pain made him pass out. 
Next time he opened his eyes he was staring at the hospital’s room ceiling, he tried to move but he felt the very distinct pull of stitches in his abdomen.
“Ugh” He tried to say, but his throat was too dry.
“We’ll be home soon, ok, bud? Be good for Carla” Eddie turned his head following the sound of Buck’s voice, he had his back to Eddie, and was still wearing his uniform, he had his phone on his ear, and nodding along to whatever Chris was saying on the other side “I will bud, I’ll let you know when the doctor tells me anything, okay?”
“Buck?” Eddie tried again, this time managing to make more noise and startling Buck and making him turn around “What happen?” 
“Hey” He said softly “How are you feeling?” 
Eddie frowned, making a mental check of himself, his thoughts were too fuzzy for him to make a proper check, but he didn’t feel like his stomach was being torn open so he figured that was good.
“Alive?”  He ended up saying, making Buck laugh. 
“Yeah, gave us quite the scare there buddy” 
Eddie smiled at him “Sorry, when can we go home?” 
“Tomorrow maybe” 
Eddie hummed and closed his eyes “Chris waiting for you?” 
“Yeah, I’m picking up dinner from that Italian place you pretend you don’t like? Sorry you’re gonna miss out” 
“Mean” 
Buck was still laughing when Eddie fell back asleep. 
He ended up staying at the hospital for 2 days, it wasn’t by far his longest stay at the hospital but towards the second day he was already climbing the walls, he was fine, he was ready to go after the first 24 hours, but because his incision was slightly red and swollen. He was fine, the doctors were just annoying. 
“C’mon” Buck said, guiding Eddie into the house, he would’ve complained that he didn’t need the help, but the truth was that he kinda did. It was too early for him to be heading to bed, so he asked Buck to set him up on the sofa where he could watch Buck tinker around the kitchen or play video games if he got bored. 
“You’re all set up” Buck said once Eddie was laying down on the sofa, his back being supported with what seemed like every pillow in the house, “I’m gonna get you a snack in a second, what else can I get you? Do you need water? A hug? Space?” 
Eddie stared at him for a second “You know what, a hug would be nice” 
Buck chuckled, helping Eddie sit up and wrapped him in his arms, Eddie rested his head on Buck’s shoulder and breathed him in. 
“Thank you Buck, for everything you do for us” 
Buck hummed “You I love it, I love helping you guys out” 
Eddie hugged him tighter for a minute, promising himself that once he was better, he was going to tell Buck just how much he meant to him.
36 notes · View notes
sparkywrites25 · 7 months
Note
Mobuhan Modern au pls 🫶🏼
I am so so sorry for how late this is. So much for aiming to get things done in a few weeks. Work and life just took me away.
Summary: Moblit gets a call he never likes to receive.
Pairing: Mobuhan
Taglist: @youre-ackermine @lunar-rainclouds @4melo-dy @captain-natey
Trigger Warnings: heavy depiction of anxiety, mentions of injury and brief mention of transphobia
Notes: If you like my work and want to see more then please join my taglist. Form is pinned on my blog.
Mobilit’s attention jumped from pan to pan, brows furrowing in concentration as he examined the progress of each one. The cooked bolognese mince was sitting comfortably on a low, steady heat waiting for the rest to catch up. Next to it, the pan of spaghetti was bubbling nicely. Mobilit swiftly turned down the heat on it and addressed the final pot with the cooking broccoli in it. That too was almost finished. With a satisfied smile, he began to unload the food into large bowls ready for their placement on the dining table. 
He checked the clock. 6pm. 
Hange would be arriving home any minute. They’d assured him that they would not be pulling a late one tonight. It had been too many weeks since they’d enjoyed a meal like this together. Takeaways and ready meals had become too much of the norm for them over the last month so Mobilit had insisted on using his day off to catch up on some errands at home and cook them a meal himself. The red wine was chilling in the fridge and some hot bread sat in the air fryer nearby. 
Mobilit grinned to himself as he remembered how excitable Hange had been over the air fryer, and how much electricity they had promised they would save by using it. The actual oven had been removed from the kitchen and placed in Hange’s home lab. They had insisted that it could still form some kind of purpose for scientific advancements in their experiments. Which meant that the electricity saved wasn’t actually going to be saved, ultimately, but at least the appliance would find another use. 
Once everything was in their bowls and plates, ready to be carried to the table, Mobilit switched the appliances off and wiped up the surfaces. He was just getting the wine out of the fridge ready to pour when his phone rang. Mobilit tensed up as he placed the bottle down at once. 
Oh for god’s sakes, not again, he mentally prayed as he answered the call. It took him half a second to realize that the number wasn’t Hange’s and he exhaled in relief. 
“Hello?” he asked in a fairly cheery voice. 
“Is this Mobilit Berner?” a male voice spoke. 
“Yeah. Who is this?”
“This is Mitras General Hospital. I’m calling about your partner Hange Zoe.”
Mobilit’s stomach and appetite dropped out of him at the same time. The air was punched from his lungs and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. His vision blurred in front of him and suddenly he wasn’t sure that his legs would hold him up. His free hand scrambled for the counter and clutched onto it. 
“W-what about them? What’s happened?” he fired the questions out in a stumbling mess. His brain was already contemplating some scenarios and creating painful visuals along with it. Hange having picked an argument with the wrong person. Hange being cornered on a quiet street. Hange having experimented with too many chemicals and having an allergic reaction in their skin or something. Hange stepping out into the road at the wrong time because they were too busy thinking of ideas around whatever stumbling block they’d hit at work. Hange just simply tripping and falling into a moving bus or something. 
“Hange’s been injured in a laboratory accident at their workplace,” the receptionist - Mobilit assumed anyway - answered. “There was an explosion and-”
“Oh god!” Mobilit cried out, slumping against the counter. More images flew through his head one by one; violent images of Hange blistered, bleeding and screaming or Hange lying in hospital with missing limbs. His chest constricted and he grit his teeth to force back the cry that threatened to rip out of him. 
A vicious, violent accident had put Hange in danger and it had happened at work. Worse, this was a line of work where that sort of thing could happen. That reminder stabbed through Mobilit’s insides. This could happen again and again. This could be something he’d have to live with. What if next time Hange didn’t just get injured? What it it killed them?
“How bad is it?” he managed to get out finally. 
“They’ve suffered some superficial burns on the face and arms but those are very shallow and will heal in a week or so.” 
Mobilit bent his head, offering gratitude to whatever deity might be out there that had given Hange superficial injuries. He forced himself to focus on the receptionist once again as the man began to speak once more.
“From what we understand, they weren’t standing directly next to the chemicals when the explosion happened.” 
A small bubble of relief began to grow in Mobilit’s chest. Another mercy was granted to him, at least. Although, his brain offered in its wicked voice, the mercy wouldn’t have been down to Hange being particularly careful. They were just lucky. In another scenario, it could have gone very differently. The relief was instantly swallowed up in a wave of horror-struck imagination. 
“But still, the force of it threw them across the lab and they broke their arm.” The receptionist continued after another pause.
 Mobilit appreciated that he was delivering the news in processable chunks. Of course he probably has to do this, and worse, every day, Mobilit thought abstractedly. That must be one of the worst parts of that job; having to tell people that their loved one is dead or dying or seriously injured or ill. He tried to snatch some gratitude that at least he wasn’t being told any news that was worse. Even so, anxiety gnawed away at him and he could barely find it in him to refocus on the conversation.
“They have hit their head, though, as a result. So we’ll be monitoring that injury for a few days. However all the tests so far have come back clear.”
Mobilit tried to take the rest of this in but, primarily, he felt himself sagging closer to the floor in another wave of relief. “They’re going to be okay?” he sounded breathless and his stomach flipped over and over itself uneasily. 
“They will make a full recovery, yes. We’re keeping them in for observation and monitoring the healing process of the burns more than anything else.”
“Okay, I understand,” Mobilit scrambled to say as he ran a hand over his face. “Thanks for letting me know. Where are they?”
“They’ve been assigned a private room, number 14 on the second floor. They’re still being treated right now so you might have to wait outside,” he was advised. 
Mobilit’s mind switched off and autopilot took over. He made the remaining pleasantries with the receptionist and ended the call. He wasn’t fully aware of packing the food away into containers, making sure the appliances were switched off and giving the surfaces a last wipe. Perhaps other people might not have prioritized such things in the wake of such a call but the act of cleaning up helped to get him moving and it felt good to be doing something for now. 
Once it was all taken care of, he grabbed his phone and car keys and hurried towards the door. 
— — — — — — —
The clinical smell of the hospital made Mobilit’s throat close up. He took no comfort from the clean scents or the smiling, reassuring faces of the staff that he passed. It was all a charade to cover up the fact that people were ill here, that some of them were dying. That bones had been broken and lives had been changed, maybe forever, in this place. He walked through it all with an increasing detachment, turning his head away from the worried loved ones, sitting around in the same position that he was about to be in. He ignored the tears in some eyes and the despair that poured from their faces as they clung to their friends and family members, mourning the state of things and cursing the events that had brought them here when they could have been doing something else. When they could have been happy. 
And yet it was all imprinting on his mind, so clearly that he could have painted the scene with very little concentration on his memory. Imagining people’s pain forever painted onto canvas somewhere. But then it was there, in so many works of art. Artists didn’t shy away from such things but right now Mobilit wished that he could. 
They’re going to be fine. It’s not like they’re ill or dying. They’re gonna walk out of here in a couple of days. He had to repeat this mantra in his head as he rode the elevator to the second floor. He continued with it all the way down the hall towards the waiting area near room 14. 
Nifa, Erwin and Levi were waiting outside the room when Mobilit finally reached them. Erwin and Nifa were perched on two seats on a string of colourful plastic chairs. Levi leaned against the wall, arms folded and brow furrowed in an expression that many would mistake for anger but Mobilit knew well enough to recognize as concern. The door to the room was closed and the blinds were drawn for now. Mobilit felt his anxiety surge upward as he stared at the covered window intently. 
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Erwin and Nifa straighten up. He turned to them and saw that Nifa’s left arm was in a cast. One side of her face was still quite red although the lack of bandages told Mobilt that at least her face wasn’t considered to be all that injured. 
She swallowed, her eyes wide and anxious as she stared into Mobilit’s face. 
“You called them,” Mobilit remarked as he approached her. 
“Yeah,” Nifa confirmed. “I’m sorry. I was nervous about calling you so the receptionist said that they would do it.”
“It’s okay, Nifa,” Mobilit placed a hand gently on her uninjured elbow. “Are you okay? You look like you took a nasty hit.” Looking over his friend was hard but it gave him something to do other than stare at the door and wait to be allowed to see Hange. 
“I’m fine,” Nifa assured him. “I was further away from the explosion. I just fell badly.”
Mobilit nodded. Anxiety continued to grow inside his stomach like one of those elastic band balls that people built when they were bored and it, ultimately, grew to be quite weighty. It brought an increasing feeling of nausea with it too. “What happened exactly, Nifa? Hange said that they weren’t staying late today.”
The subject chased some of the anxiety out of Nifa’s expression and her brow furrowed in instant focus. 
“It was just after four,” Nifa recalled, “and Hange said they were gonna finish early so we didn’t start any new testing after 3pm. We were just waiting on this last concoction to finish boiling so we could test its effectiveness after being heated. But something must have gone wrong with the glass. The liquid must have spilled somehow. Maybe it splashed out of the glass. It’s hard to know for sure because the explosion took a lot of equipment out when it happened.” She tucked some hair behind her ear and stared down at the ground. 
Erwin stepped forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Take your time. The CCTV will determine what happened soon enough.”
“Yeah,” Nifa agreed, a miserable expression filling her face now. “I just wish I could have seen it. I could have stopped it.”
“If Hange had seen it, they would have removed it from the danger area,” Erwin comforted her. “It sounds like it was just one of those things. You can’t always predict them.”
“I’m sure this wasn’t your fault, Nifa,” Mobilit gently took her uninjured elbow in his hands. “They said Hange has some facial burns,” he said after a pause. “Did they notice something before it happened? Were they going to check on it?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Nifa answered. “They weren’t expecting it to be ready yet. They were just cleaning up another table while they were waiting.”
“Huh. Hange was cleaning.” Levi scoffed from behind Erwin. 
Nifa smiled. “They were bored. Normally we’d have another testing on the go at the same time. They had some time to kill.”
“And some germs, apparently,” Levi quipped. 
“So Hange wasn’t trying to go near it,” Mobilit sought out confirmation, gazing intently at Nifa who nodded. But it was Erwin who spoke next. 
“Perhaps you could leave any further questions until later, Mobilit. There’s not much more to learn about how this happened.”
Mobilit nodded and squeezed Nifa’s arm gently. “Yeah, of course. I’m sorry. Nifa,” he said in a quiet but sincerely apologetic murmur. “I really am. I just… I guess I just want to try and picture what happened. I just keep imagining-” he cut off his sentence and pulled back. 
“Don’t go there,” Erwin recommended in a gentler tone. “Hange will be fine. They were lucky.”
“Yeah,” Nifa said encouragingly. “The lab will look at the CCTV and see what exactly started it. Once they tell us, we can take even more precautions.” She smiled into Mobilit’s worried eyes. “I know Hange’s really passionate about their work but we both know that they do take precautions too. We just need to do a few more next time we look at that test. We’ll figure it out and, at least for now, Hange will have to take things easier.”
“You both should,” Levi had moved over to join them. “You and Shitty Glasses are always working too hard. I’m surprised Rico isn’t here already.”
Suddenly Nifa’s eyes ballooned and Mobilit stared into the redhead’s guilty face. A chuckle rose out of his throat despite the circumstances. “You haven’t told Rico,”  he said.
“No… I was too preoccupied with calling people about Hange,” Nifa said biting her lip. She sighed and squared her shoulders. “I’m gonna do it now. Hopefully she won’t freak,” she added as she pulled out her phone and went to take a seat. Mobilit watched her type in a number and then hold the phone to her ears. 
“If Hange’s missed any safety precautions and Rico gets wind of that,” Levi mused, folding his arms, “then Hange’s gonna be in the right place.”
“Levi,” Erwin chided. 
He returned to his seat, beckoning for Mobilit to join him but the shorter man shook his head, running a hand through his hair agitatedly. The nerves and the knowledge that Hange was behind the door receiving treatment, that they were so injured, had bubbled up again during his conversation with the others. Now there was that sinking, overwhelming feeling again, like not being able to tread water. He took a few deep breaths and turned away from the door. 
Levi took his arm. It wasn’t a terribly firm hold but the way Levi’s fingers dug in suggested that he might press harder if Mobilit were to try and throw him off. “Hey,” he told Mobilit. “Breathe. They’re going to be fine.” 
Mobilit tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. “I know,” he mused. “It’s just that… I forget how dangerous this job can be for them.”
“That’s true but it’s also what Hange is good at,” Levi reasoned. “They got unlucky today but they have made significant advancements in medication thanks to their experiments,” he reminded Mobilit. “You’ve been a part of them all so you know. Those tablets that cut Covid down by a few days? The syrup that takes care of the flu within 48 hours? These all came from your partner’s brain and skill.”
“Levi’s right,” Erwin added. “It’s dangerous work but in Hange’s hands it’s also successful work.”
Mobilit nodded, slumping a little as he began to slowly pace in front of Hange’s room. “Yeah… I do understand that,” he said quietly. He understood it very well. He worked with them on this. He knew how passionate they felt about their work and how valuable they were. He didn’t want to be that guy that demanded Hange chose between him and their work. If he was 100% honest with himself, he wasn’t sure Hange would be able to turn their back on something that was such a huge aspect of their life. Asking them to do that would only end up breeding resentment anyway even if they did do it. 
Besides, he loved their passion and their ideas and that completely chaotic drive to do some good in the world. As he considered this, a slight smile played on his lips. Hange wouldn’t be Hange without their love of experiments and seeking out knowledge. They were born to do this sort of thing, to be bold enough to chase down those possibilities. 
It just meant that he had to keep reminding himself that Hange was walking - no, let’s be honest, they were skipping - down a dangerous road. He had always known this from the moment they had chosen to become more than friends. No one could say that he didn’t know the risks. Ugh, just get it together, Mobilit kicked himself mentally. They’re gonna be fine. The receptionist told you that. It’s nothing too serious. Yet, even while he tried to remind himself of that, another voice, one far nastier, began to speak up. 
What if it happens again? What if next time you’re not so lucky? What if next time, they’re not giving you a list of whatever meds they’ll need but a death certificate. 
Mobilit stopped pacing at once. The idea was so horrific and yet so painfully plausible. The thought made him feel viciously sick and he pursed his lips, convinced that he might actually throw up with the bubbling fear that was shooting up his throat right now. He looked up and along the corridor, quickly spotting the doorway to a bathroom. He broke into a fast walk, making a beeline for it.
“Mobilit!” He heard Erwin call after him but he was too occupied to pay him much attention.
— — — — — — —
When he emerged from the toilet stall, Erwin was waiting by the sink. Mobilit washed his face and the cool water helped to ground his uneasy levels of anxiety. He threw more water over his skin, chasing the comforting sensation. 
After a moment, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He flinched instantly.
“Just breathe,” Erwin told him.
Mobilit stared up at him. He hadn’t even seen that the man was in here with him. The fact that he hadn’t even noticed Erwin was somewhat surprising considering the man’s size. However, it didn’t entirely surprise him that the man could keep himself out of anyone’s focus if he so pleased. It was kind of a terrifying skill to have but not one Mobilit wanted to dwell on right now. 
 “Just one breath at a time. Don’t think. Just breathe.” Erwin advised. He inhaled deeply himself, gesturing for Mobilit to mimic him. 
Mobilit did so, taking in a deep breath of air and held it in for a moment before copying Erwin’s exhale. They did that together a few more times before Mobilit began to feel the overwhelming feeling begin to settle. Clarity returned to him gradually as well.
“Feeling calmer?” Erwin asked and Mobilit nodded. 
“Thanks.”
“No worries,” Erwin said. “I figured you’d want to calm yourself down before you go in and see Hange.”
Mobilit straightened up. “Can I go in now?”
“Yes, a doctor came out just as you left. Levi is speaking to him now. I’m sure he’s asking about the cleanliness of the room and the quality of the supplies in relation to whatever budget the hospital has,” Erwin answered. He spoke the last part with a smile that eased Mobilit a little. 
“I guess the doctor won’t be hanging around then,” he managed to joke feebly. 
“No, I shouldn’t think so,” Erwin smiled. “But Levi can tell us what he said anyway.”
“Yeah. I just really need to see Hange right now.” Mobilit said.
“Of course,” Erwin gestured for him to exit the bathroom ahead of him, “just try and stay calm. Remember, they weren’t too badly hurt. They’re going to be okay.”
Mobilit tried to focus on that as he left the bathroom and stepped out into the corridor again. He began the walk towards Hange’s door, a walk that felt so long the more he thought about it. He was about to see Hange and see for himself that they were okay. Why wasn’t he excited about it? Why did his stomach feel like it was going to empty itself? Why did his legs feel this wobbly? It wasn’t the first time Hange had been hurt and - while he hated to think it - it probably wouldn’t be the last. He just needed to get used to it. 
Levi was waiting outside the door, noticeably alone, leaning against the wall. Nifa was sat near him, still on the phone to Rico. Levi eyed Mobilit thoughtfully as he approached. “I hope you cleaned up in there,” he muttered although the words had none of their usual harshness. 
It was enough for Mobilit to crack a smile. “Of course I did.” 
Levi nodded to the door. “We’ll wait out here,” he said. He then looked to Nifa. “Or we can take her for some tea. It sounds like Rico isn’t too happy,” he mused. 
Mobilit glanced over to Nifa who was grimacing and speaking her quickly and lovingly down the phone. “Can’t say I blame her,” he remarked. “Nifa could have been a lot worse as well.” 
At last, he returned his attention to the door of Hange’s room and pushed at it, stepping inside. 
— — — — — — —
Well, this bites, Hange huffed to themself as they stared out of the window with their uncovered eye. 
Not that the other eye was missing much outside of the glass. It wasn’t even a good view. All they could see were constant columns of grey corporate building, their windows plastered with colourful posters promoting the usual lies and propaganda of billion dollar companies that were destroying the planet one office at a time. Hange’s fists clenched in the bedsheets for a moment as they gritted their teeth. Instantly half of their facial muscles twinged and they eased up on the expression instantly. 
That’s going to be a pain. Hange acknowledged. Being an emotionally expressive person and having half of their face being sore and tender for a week or so were not going to be friendly bedfellows. They looked down at the menu list for dinner soon and sighed. 
I was supposed to be having dinner with Moblit tonight. He was making his spaghetti bolognese. I love his spaghetti. That man is an artist in the kitchen too. Instead, I’m gonna be stuck here eating whatever processed crap they serve up. With a heavy sigh, they leaned back against the pillows and ran a hand down the uninjured side of their face. They’ll have called him by now. He’s gonna freak. I promised him I wouldn’t be late. It’s his day off too. Who wants to spend that in here?
They’d been careful today. So fucking careful. It had been too long since they had had a date night and almost as long since they’d last eaten Mobilit’s cooking. It was the nature of Hange’s job that things tended to get intense and all-consuming very quickly. Anything else tended to take a back seat. But they and Mobilit had recognized that. They’d made plans to take time for themselves. All through the day Hange had kept her mind on how long things would take to finish and what they could do instead to fill up the hours before leaving early that wouldn’t involve starting a new test. It was all supposed to be straight forward and that stupid explosion had fucked things up for them. 
I’m amazed that he doesn’t lose patience with me. Hange reflected as they tapped their fingers on the table hovering over their legs. But then that was Mobilit. He’d been by their side, putting up with a lot of shit for years now. 
The door opened again and Hange’s attention whipped towards it just as Mobilit stepped inside and closed the door. They beamed at him and waved with one hand. That was another thing that would be hell to get used to. Managing with a broken arm. They already missed their double wave. 
“Mobilit,” they greeted softly with a smile that disappeared as soon as Hange saw their boyfriend’s eyes. 
They were glassy and filled with so much pain and fear that any confident, quirky quip that Hange might have conjured instantly died in their mouth. Their own face tightened with immediate guilt. I did this to him. Worrying about me again has done this. 
His shoulders were trembling, not a great deal but enough for them to notice. They watched as Mobilit’s eyes roamed over their injuries, lingering briefly on their face before dropping to take in the sling that currently held Hange’s left arm. With every second, the anxiety seemed to bloom more across his features. Hange saw his fists clench and his jaw tighten. They recognised those signs instantly. 
“This isn’t something you could have prevented,” Hange told him in as calm a voice as they could manage. “It was just an accident, Mobilit. I’m gonna be fine.”
“Just an accident?” Mobilit repeated, his voice cracking. “Are you being serious?”
It had been the wrong thing to say and Hange grimaced. “I’m not playing it down.”
“Yes you are,” the retort that came back so quickly was angry and it surprised Hange. Mobilit’s chest was starting to heave. “Yes, you are,” he repeated. “It happened and it’s a big deal, Hange.” Their boyfriend stepped forward, grabbing the nearest plastic blue seat and pulling it towards the side of their bed. The left side, Hange noted, closest to their heart. It was sweet and they wanted to smile but right now, faced with Mobilit’s anger, Hange forced that smile back for the time being. “You’re about to tell me that it could have been worse, right?” he asked and the pain in his voice was evident. 
“Yeah,” Hange admitted. “I’d rather focus on the fact that it wasn’t. I was lucky.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Another crack in Mobilit’s voice. “I have to think that we’re lucky because you only ended up here with a broken arm and some burns? That’s not lucky, Hange. That’s you being hurt!” he snapped. Tears shone in his eyes. “You being hurt is never lucky.”
Hange itched to reach out to him but he was sitting on their injured side. “Okay that was a bad choice of words-”
“Hange!” Mobilit’s voice came out as a dry sob. “Just stop! Stop trying to make this okay! It’s not okay!” He bowed his head and clasped his hands over his face. “God, this is not okay, Hange. It’s not.” His shoulders shook and Hange’s heart broke a little for him. 
Hange couldn’t remember ever having seen Mobilit this anxious before. He always worried so much about their welfare and their safety. Things that, admittedly, were not high on Hange’s list of priorities and they never really had been. Such things took up too much room in their head that could be better filled with ideas and possibilities and combinations. 
Hange had been that kid experimenting with dangerous stunts or homemade scientific concoctions as a child. They had had their fair share of hospital visits back then too. Even then, they hadn’t been terribly afraid of the pain or the healing although it had certainly been inconvenient for their relentless curiosity and determination to explore and investigate. It was just normal for them to handle things this way. Their parents had been worried about it at the time, back when they had been someone her parents could approve of. Back when they had accepted them as their child. They had supported Hange’s curiosities and strong scientific mind and forgave the occasional hospital visits. 
It was just their gender identity, that they couldn’t forgive. Their so-called “decision” to be different. Their ultimate rejection had been a lesson in being careful who to trust, after that. Hange was lucky in that they had accepting friends to help them through it. They had moved in with Erwin and Levi for a while as soon as they left home at 17. A year later, Erwin had introduced them to Mobilit. Life had transformed for the better since leaving that house. 
Mobilit had shown concern about the risks of Hange’s experiments and their tendency to overlook the risks right from the beginning. Hange liked to call him their worrier. He worried so they didn’t have to. But seeing him now, guilt churned away inside their stomach. How much of that worrying had stayed inside Mobilit eating away at him?
“I’m sorry,” Hange reached out their uninjured hand and smiled when Mobilit slid his into it. “I’m sorry,” they said again. “I know this isn’t okay. How much you worry.” They stroked the backs of his fingers with their thumb gently. “I’m just trying to focus on the positives. It could have been a lot worse and I’m grateful that it wasn’t.”
“Me too,” Mobilit mumbled. “I am. It’s just that it could have gone the other way so easily, Hange.” 
“Mobilit,” Hange kept their voice gentle as they squeezed his hand. “Thoughts like that don’t help. If we worry about what could happen, we’d never live our lives. You could go to the store tomorrow and get hit by a bus,” they explain. “We could take a vacation and get scammed out of all our money. We could get sick. Our house could burn down.” They exhaled gently. “It’s a rabbit hole but you can’t go down it. Look at what it’s doing to you.”
Hange lifted Mobilit’s hand to kiss it. “How long have you been holding back your worries, Mobilit?” they questioned. 
Mobilit lifted his face to theirs with a confused frown. “Since I got that call this afternoon.” His brows furrowed deeper. “How did you expect me to react? Am I just supposed to shrug it off now? To be used to you getting hurt?”
His partner shook their head. “No. I’m not saying that. But Mobilit, this feels like it’s been going on longer. You sound like you’ve been carrying this for a while.” 
Mobilit’s eyes shifted away from theirs and his frown deepened. “I… I always have to worry because you don’t,” he mumbled. “Someone has to.” One of his hands lifted to run through his hair, his eyes squeezing shut with obvious frustration. His shoulders sagged even lower and Hange’s heart went out to him. This was the worst they had ever seen him react to one of their accidents at work. Some of it had to be build up from previous concerns. They had been injured worse than this before. 
“Do they?” Hange asked. They kissed his fingers again. “Caring and concern are one thing but this… Mobilit, this is anxiety and it’s not healthy for you.”
Their boyfriend stared at them for a moment or two, blinking slowly. “Really?” he asked. “Really?! You’re lecturing me on what’s not healthy from a hospital bed? Because it’s so healthy to disregard your own safety.” Mobilit’s sheer disbelief seemed to chase a great deal of the anxiety from his face for the moment. Hange welcomed that distraction for however long it lasted. Seeing some of the pain leaving his face was a very good thing. 
Hange’s lips twitched into a smile. 
Mobilit stared at them like that for a moment before a small smile began to take over. “You’re unbelievable,” he mused softly. “You’re really something else, you know?” He lifted his hand and brought theirs to his lips softly. He exhaled again, this time releasing a weak laugh with it. “You’re such a pain,” he joked. 
Hange smiled wider this time. “Yes but I’m your pain.” 
“Yes you are,” Mobilit’s smile was growing as well. “Although I could very much live without these trips to hospital, you know?” He pointed out, cupping their hand in both of his. “And we both have much better ways of spending our time, don’t you think?” He sighed, his features relaxing more although some of the anxiety still lingered in his eyes. “So, if you could very kindly spare just a little of that massive brain of yours into taking more care,” he suggested and heaved a dramatic sigh, “I’d really appreciate it very much.”
Hange nodded emphatically. “I’ll try and be more careful, Mobilit,” they assured him. “I promise.”
“Good.” Mobilit leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bed. He eyed the bandages over half of Hange’s face and lifted their hand for another kiss. “I really wanna kiss you but I guess your hand will have to do for now,” he remarked. 
“I wish you could,” Hange complained quietly. “My face is stupid sensitive right now.”
“At least the burns aren’t too bad, so the doctors say,” Mobilit answered. 
“Yeah they’re just enough to be a pain but they won’t leave lasting damage,” Hange told him. “Not gonna lie. A few burns might have given me more of a badass edge in the science department but ah well, I can live without it.”
Mobilit bowed his head, releasing a laugh of mingled amusement and exasperation. “You’re a freaking maniac.”
Hange grinned and then winced at the pain in their cheek at the movement of their mouth. “Yeah well, you still love me right?”
“Of course I love you,” Mobilit stroked their hand in his. “I’m never gonna stop loving you.”
“And I love you,” Hange’s smile softened, easing the pain in their cheek. “I promise to be more careful. And at least we can take some positives from this.”
“Yeah?” 
“I’m gonna be home for a little while now thanks to this stupid thing.” Hange gestured to their sling. “So I hope you’re prepared for me to drive you a little crazy.” 
“Hange,” Mobilit laughed a truly happy sound, “you already drive me a LOT crazy. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
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acosmicblizzard · 1 year
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Poly reader with Ada and Emil headcanons
They're my little skrunkly's Warnings: Mentions of asylums/mental hospitals, Mentions of hypnosis
Story type: Fluff
Characters/pairings: Ada - “Psychologist”, Emil - "Patient", Reader (Gender-Neutral), Victor - "Postman"
(possible ooc)
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Ohh boy, how did you even land yourself these two? You're in for one wild ride if you did. In order to be in a relationship with both of them you'd probably have to have know them both while in the asylum, however there is a possibility that they'd fall for you during their time in the manor. However it's more likely for one or both of them to catch feelings if you had been close while they were both at the asylum. During games as soon as you get chaired Emil will be dashing over there like a mad man with Ada behind him to help support or bodyblock if needed. Both of them absolutely hate leaving you behind in matches and will do anything they can to keep you alive even though they know you'll just be sent back to the manor. These two are willing to pull the riskiest moves ever just to make sure all three of you escape and three out of five times it usually works. Ada knows she can't always save you but Emil always beats himself up when he can't believing he could've done better. You and Ada always comfort him afterwards and reassure him after matches that he did great and did what he could. Cuddle piles, cuddle piles with these two are absolutely amazing. Ada is more of a big spoon but doesn't mind being the little spoon while Emil is more of a little spoon but every now and then will be the big spoon. You usually end up with Emil being sandwiched between Ada and you, him happily snuggling into either you or Ada while you and Ada just blissfully stare at eachother or chat away. Both of them can get jealous easily and are generally very protective over you, basically like guard dogs. Will be glaring at the killer before and after matches, and will throw hands with any of the survivors if they get you hurt. If you go through pains similar to Emils, Ada with perimission will use hypnosis to help you and it helps push her to research more and more both to help you and Emil. If there's one thing she despises it's seeing either of you in pain. Emil absolute loves messing with your hair, it was a thing he discovered while cuddling with you. You were very tired and were cuddling in Emils room when he suddenly started running his fingers through your hair. You were too tired to care at the moment and just let him continue while Emil had the biggest grin on his face. The length of your hair doesn't matter, he just finds messing with it fun!
One time during a match you had gotten paired up with Victor and your partners. This would've been perfectly fine if Victor didn't have Wick with him. Emil is absolutely terrified of dogs and sadly Victor didn't know that so when Victor sent Wick to go deliver a letter Emil let out a scream, causing you to fail the calibration on the cipher you were on. You were going to run to Emil to check on him and were vaulting a window but because you weren't paying attention to your surroundings now you didn't realize jack was literally right behind you and invisible. Next second, you got terror shocked. You guys somehow beat that match but it ended up with a terrified Emil, a angry Ada, and a confused Victor and you.
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matan4il · 10 months
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Love you and the other anon talking about "inferring " because it's true. If Buddie was opposite sex or Canon queer everyone would be reading the same in between the lines as we do. Like for instance, Maddies list of people to check on Buck. Even without shipper goggles, the GA can guess a few things we don't need to be shown.
Of course Eddie was visiting prior. Even of you don't see potential romance they are best friends and partners. Buck has taken care of him, he didn't say bzzzz bzzzzz, see you later later at the hospital. He was there helping and visiting.
But you also can tell from all the subtext he did not engage in Maddies meddling and knew he knew him better and mentally high five himself when Buck came to him.
On a side note I love everyone else comes with distractions and awkwardness but you just know Eddie either grabs a beer or throws Chris at him. Like you don't need sodoku when you can eat popcorn and do homework together.
Hi Nonnie! Thank you for following up on this ask reply.
Yep, that's exactly it. That's a part of my point in my meta posts, that what we see between Buddie are classic subtext romance tropes, which is why, among other things, there are so many parallels between Buddie and the other canon romantic couples on 911.
Reagdring Eddie, absolutely! He knows where to step in and where to keep out. Maddie had good intentions, but she read what her brother needed wrong, and therefore all the visitors he was getting that he did NOT want or need had to try so hard (and they still came short). Eddie doesn't have to try to be the right thing for Buck, Eddie just has to be - to be there and be himself - and that is exactly what Buck needs. They know and get each other. That's why they work. That's why they're perfect for each other, that's why they're soulmates.
Have a great day, lovely! As always, my ask tag. xoxox
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Day.16 Water - Sawtober/Sawcember
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warning : angst, hurt/comfort, hydrophobia
Sawtober/Sawcember masterlist
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The weather is a natural phenomenon and the predictions of weather experts and researchers can only be interpreted. It has happened more than once that it started to rain even though it was high summer or that it snowed in the fall when the leaves started to turn colorful.
But what were initially just annoying and yet somehow pretty weather phenomena had become an inner burden for Agent Strahm.
Since he had woken up in the water trap, since he had felt the cold metal on his neck and his screams had not come out of the box, he seemed to have changed. Not only did his neck still hurt from the hole he had to ram into it with his pen, it was the fear of being surrounded by water again.
The renewed fear of hearing the loud splashing noise that rumbled in his ears, of being helpless and suffocating. A fear he didn't have before - he loved swimming, diving, bathing and showering.
But since he had been discharged from hospital, he had avoided water as much as possible. The shower was hardly ever on and only minimal drops flowed down, prolonging his showers by hours. A fact he denied and dismissed with an
,,I'm fine" every time in front of his boyfriend but he saw the skeptical look on Hoffman's face and knew he knew he had a problem. A problem that couldn't simply be solved, even if his partner disagreed. For Mark it was a simple matter of how to get Peter back under water.
Which is why he came up with a little plan, because he wasn't going to put himself through another couple of hours waiting for his friend in the shower.
Without knowing what it would do to Peter, he would take the risk. The two of them drove to work, as they did every day, and he knew that Strahm kept checking the weather forecast on his cell phone.
Strahm used the large umbrella that was actually intended for two people on his own. ,,Don't worry so much, it's only a few meters to the station," Hoffman said, taking one hand off the steering wheel and placing it on his boyfriend's thigh.
Nevertheless, he could feel the tension in the brown-haired man who didn't want to leave the safety of the car in the rain. ,,Yes-yes... I'll manage," Strahm replied, but his heart was beating wildly as he somehow tried to get out of the car with the half-open umbrella and run to the main door faster than necessary. He winced as he felt the drops of water on his neck and wheeled around.
He saw that Mark had given him the few drops and seemed to want to give him more. ,,Hoffman, don't you dare!" hissed Strahm, shielding himself with his umbrella before hurrying into the station and hearing his friend's grin.
At least that's how it looked from the outside, that Hoffman didn't take his boyfriend's illness seriously, but in reality it was his fault that it was haunting him. Guilt that he hadn't simply recognized Strahm, that he hadn't simply told him that he knew who had set him up.
That it was Lawrence and not Jigsaw. Lawrence the medical genius knew exactly how to get everything out of his victims, both mentally and physically.
But even though Hoffman was initially against it, he knew that interfering would only complicate things. And he wanted to avoid any more complications at all costs.
I'll fix it, the brown-haired man thought to himself and wiped the raindrops off his jacket before he went inside too, because in the end he was just Mark Hoffman the friendly policeman and not Jigsaw.
He just had to find the right mix of both with Peter to help him. Which he did, even if Strahm didn't like it. He would have to get through it.
And when the two men got home, the story had gone on far too long again and they had taken Asian food with them, the last thing Strahm thought about was water, or rather the shower.
,,Did they mix up my sauces?" asked Strahm, leaning back on the couch with his noodles and glad to be back safely in the house.
They both always took the same thing and of course Hoffman knew exactly what his friend wanted because if Strahm didn't cook, Hoffman was screwed.
Instant soup and pasta was the only thing he could manage, but everything else would turn into a cooking lesson with his friend. ,,No, I don't think it's the same as always," Mark said dismissively, looking back at the screen and the ticking clock.
It must be working he thought and shoveled another spoonful of rice and chicken into his mouth. He knew it wasn't the sauce that tasted different, it was the crushed sleeping pills. Lawrence's special recipe as he remembered when the blond had given it to him.
Maybe it was his now somewhat radical conviction to persuade the human mind to do something he was afraid of, or maybe it was just a touch of madness in him.
But he had already heard the third yawn from his peer and knew that it was only a matter of time. He looked back at the screen, but after a few more minutes he heard the clink of the fork falling to the floor as Strahm fell asleep.
,,Time for a test," Hoffman mumbled and carefully placed his and Peter's food on the table before carrying his friend's body as gently as he could into the bathroom.
The shower wasn't huge but there was enough room for them to stand next to each other, but they didn't have to. He leaned Strahm carefully against the wall under the shower head and looked at his friend for a moment.
His shirt slightly unbuttoned and his tie hanging out of his trousers, a tired expression even in his sleep. And yet he was overcome with guilt again when he saw the scar on his friend's neck.
He moved his fingers carefully over it and felt the scarred tissue. ,,I'm sorry," he murmured as he let go of the scar and left a gentle kiss on it before turning on the shower and closing the door.
He waited for Peter to wake up and sat in front of him as best he could and looked at him, he would stay with him and show him that water didn't mean death.
The water had already almost completely soaked his shirt and he could see it sticking to his friend's skin and his pants. But he knew he didn't look any better himself, his hair hanging down as he leaned over to Peter and slapped him lightly on the cheek to wake him up.
,,Peter...come on...wake up," he said slowly, seeing how he woke up again after a few moments and was confused for a split second before he let out a cry of fear. ,,Get out of the way!" he shouted at Mark as he felt the water splashing down on him, grabbing Mark's shoulder and trying to push him aside.
There was sheer fear in his dark eyes. But Mark was quicker to grab the other's arms and pull him into a tight hug.
A hug that didn't let him escape, ,,It's okay, I'm here," he said and heard the echoing screams and pleas to let him go, he seemed like a frightened dog trying to crawl into a corner.
,,No! No! Let me fucking go Hoffman!" Peter continued to scream at him and tried to free himself, clawing and scratching at anything he could find, hitting and biting at a sight that stung Mark. Because he was indirectly responsible. He had done this to Peter.
Which is why he just pulled him even tighter and kept talking to him, hoping it would just stop at some point. That Peter would have to calm down at some point.
The special agent kicked his legs and managed to get the glass door of the shower to crack. ,,Peter, I'm here, you're not drowning, don't you hear me," said Mark, easing up a little as he felt the attempts to escape diminish and Strahn looked at his work with a shocked expression.
The splintered door, Hoffman's body with several bloody scratches and even a bite. But then he saw tears welling up in Strahm's eyes as he realized that it was finally over.
He carefully put a hand on his boyfriend's cheek, ,,What-What have I done? Forgive me," he murmured and Hoffman returned the hug and Mark hugged him.
The two of them were still being hit by the water, but neither of them cared, it was the overcoming that mattered.
And while Strahm told him over and over again, ,,I love you", it was Hoffman who had to fight back the tears as he looked at the slightly bloody water and only said, ,,I'm sorry I did this to you" and hugged him even tighter.
They had both repented in the water only to come out again at the end. In love and not brokenness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
@a-reading-dreamer , @megustadilf , @klarise , @misslavenderlady , @mysunfishpeedinmyroom
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skippyv20 · 1 year
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Our Prayer List 🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️❤️
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Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s brother in Spain.  Unfortunately, over the past two days he has been having terrible pain in his toe and is needing high levels of pain relief. He is on intravenous anti biotics, and treatment for low sodium. My dear brother is having a scan tomorrow to check the blood flow to his remaining leg.  Please also pray for his partner.
Prayers and good thoughts for Baby Roy who has passed away.  Praying for comfort for his parents, and family as they mourn his loss.  Praying for Baby Roy as he makes his journey home to God. Prayers and good thoughts for our friend who is terrible pain with her back and sciatica down her right leg to her foot.  She also has 4 ruptured disks, 2 of which are torn. They have done a laser ablation of the nerves in her upper lumbar region which helped some. Also, she has had several epidurals in her lower lumbar & sacroilliac joints but that hasn't helped. She has an appointment with a neurosurgeon on the 14th.
Prayer and good thoughts for our friend’s newborn grandson who was admitted to the NICU yesterday with a Group B Strep infection.  Baby Elliott was intubated last night and placed on a ventilator.  Please pray for him, his parents, and his grandmother.
Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s beloved nephew, Norbert.  He is heartbroken after a breakup and is depressed.
Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s friend in Turkey who has already had news of two fatalities in her family, and is awaiting news of others in her family who are  missing. Prayers for all in Turkey.
Prayers and good thoughts for Rob who may have a re =tear in knee and need further surgery.
Prayers and good thoughts for our friend who is going through a very difficult time.  Her husband is divorcing her after 33 years. After the first hearing, the judge is having him give her so little that she will have no place she can afford to live, while he has already gotten himself a new house. She fears her attorney is firing her due to how emotional she is.  The day after the first hearing she had to go to the hospital for kidney failure, she has stage 4 heart failure, a tumor in her lung and leg. Please pray for judge to rule in her favour.
Prayers and good thoughts our friend’s brother in law. He has severe heart failure and he had colon cancer removed last nov.  He must get chemo to be put on heart life saving machine but heart is too weak for chemo. This is his 3rd week in the hospital and the prognosis is he might live a couple months. Prayers and good thoughts for our friend who has been battling depression long-term due to trauma and the resulting difficult circumstances.
Prayers and good thoughts for Karen.  She has been through much medically, and her sister is worried about her mentally handling changes.
Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s little boy who will be going through treatment for speech impediment.  We pray for his quick success.
Prayers and good thoughts for our dear friend whose disability renewal was denied.  She has another battle ahead.
Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s father who has been diagnosed with early stage dementia.
Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s son-in-law’s mother.   She has cancer in her spine, leg and lung.  She will be having surgery on her spine.     This woman raised 4 boys by herself, her now 23 year old son is  severely autistic and needs 24/7 care, which his mom has provided him his entire life.    She is only 64 years old, a wonderful person, warm, loving and very independent.  My heart breaks for her.  Please also pray for my son in law - he is in the Navy, fortunately stationed only a few hours from his mom.  He has power of attorney for his mom and his brother’s care - he has some very difficult and no doubt heart wrenching decisions to make.
Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s friend whom has been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer called Myelodysplastic Syndrome, or MDS.  She is undergoing chemo and waiting for the bone marrow transplant.
Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s daughter who is struggling.  She is in much pain mentally. We prayer for her family as well as they try desperately to help her.
Prayers and good thoughts for our friend who is battling an undiagnosed mental illness which led to decisions with consequences.  Praying for her to stay strong in faith, for her family issues to be resolved.  Also, for her to be free of financial hardship.
Prayers and good thoughts for Baby James and his heart brother Matthew.  Also their heart brother Conrad
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coochiequeens · 10 months
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The violent altercation resulted in police intervention. At first, Smith’s boyfriend claimed she had been abusive towards him. But later, Smith says he tried to blame it on his gender identity issues.“ While she was checked into a hospital to heal from the abuse she was reported to the police for stating that her abusive ex was transgender.
A UK woman has been summoned for an interview by Derbyshire Police over alleged “transphobic” behavior during her hospital stay at Chesterfield Royal Hospital.
Toni Smith* says she received the notice just after being released from the hospital’s mental health unit where she had been seeking treatment following a traumatic episode related to her past abuse by a trans-identified male.
Speaking to Reduxx and The Publica for an exclusive joint report, Smith explained that she was voluntarily admitted to Chesterfield’s Herrington Unit in January after contacting emergency services herself and explaining that she had self-harmed.
Smith is a survivor of repeat sexual and physical abuse — abuse she says she suffered at the hands of her transgender ex-boyfriend.
“When we met, he was a bodybuilder. His biceps were bigger than my head. I’d never met anyone as big as him.” Smith says, explaining that the two became an item in 2017. 
Just over one year into the relationship, Smith says she discovered that her partner had a proclivity for wearing women’s clothing and expressed a desire to transition.
“It completely blindsided me. I had thought for a while that he had [body] issues… at first, a lot of the habits he had were similar to the issues my body dysmorphia caused me. So I thought it was similar.” 
Smith notes that while she was not hostile to her boyfriend’s decision, she was not interested in affirming his declaration.
Given the gender ideology debate was still far-removed from mainstream popularity at the time, Smith says she had never given too much thought to the politics surrounding transgenderism 
However, her feelings about her partner’s “transition” were mixed.
“I knew straight away that I would not stay in the relationship. But I felt sorry for him, I wanted to help him feel comfortable with whatever life he was living, and I thought we could part as friends after that.” 
But it wasn’t long after that Smith says her partner became physically abusive towards her and their disagreements would often turn violent.
“He abused me horrifically,” Smith alleges. “One time, he sat on my chest and strangled me until I passed out.” 
The violent altercation resulted in police intervention. At first, Smith’s boyfriend claimed she had been abusive towards him. But later, Smith says he tried to blame it on his gender identity issues.
“He told me that the reason he’d strangled me and was so horrible was because he was jealous of me,” she explained.
Smith says the abuse continued to escalate, with her boyfriend’s gender identity becoming a catalyst for the continued deterioration of the relationship and her mental health.
“He would take my make-up and accuse me of cheating. He controlled the money but would message his family claiming I was spending it on myself or drugs. He also began coercing me into having sex with other men for money,” Smith says, explaining that “at first” he didn’t force her, but would instead invite men over and put her on the spot.
“One of them, near the end, injured me quite badly. [My partner] knew it was too much because it was the last time he made me do it. I think with others he told himself he wasn’t abusing me because I eventually gave in. He thinks that’s consent,” Smith says. “There was a lot of blood. I started getting pains after that low down in my stomach. After I left him one day I collapsed and started convulsing and the hospital found my birth control coil had been dislodged and was basically stabbing into my cervix and embedding in the inside of it.”
Smith provided Reduxx and The Publica a number of covert videos she had recorded while in the relationship. In one, he admitted to spraying a household cleaning disinfectant down her throat because she accidentally got facial toner on him while she was spritzing it on her face. 
In another video from April of 2020, Smith captured an interaction with her partner, who is seen wearing long red-dyed hair and pink pajama pants, becoming angry at her for singing in the bedroom — something Smith says she was doing to block out the verbal abuse he had been directing at her.
The interaction ends with him storming out to shut the house’s electricity off, leaving Smith in pitch-black darkness while he calls her “abusive.” 
Smith alleges that after she stopped recording to go turn the electricity back on, he kicked her into a wall.
Disturbingly, Smith says her partner then reported her for a “hate crime” for not sufficiently affirming his gender identity — something she says had happened multiple times before in their relationship. 
Police attended the residence, but classified it as a simple domestic dispute with no intervention needed.
The next day, Smith decided to end the relationship.
“The day I left, I was begging him to get help. He told me he wouldn’t … so my friend called me a taxi and I left. I went up to the north of England, at which point I suppose he realized I was not actually going to come back to him. He started threatening to kill himself unless I did, but I refused.”
Over the coming week, police contacted Smith with questions about the relationship, clearly concerned about the distressing number of calls that had come out of the residence over time. 
Smith finally opened up to officers about the abuse after the relationship ended. Merseyside Police arranged for her to record a video statement, and Derbyshire Police took over the case.
In June of 2020, two months after Smith left, her ex was arrested while police investigated Smith’s claims of having been sex trafficked by him.
“The reason it took them so long between my statement and arresting him was because they went through every report he’d made against me. He’d been reporting me without my knowledge and there were so many reports it took them a couple of weeks to make sure they’d closed all of his, which they said they now regarded as malicious and false,” Smith explained.
Reduxx and The Publica reviewed communications exchanged between Smith and a constable with the Derbyshire Police, in which “she/her” pronouns were used for her abuser.
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No charges were ultimately pursued and minimal details were provided to Smith on why that decision had been reached.
“[The constable] came and said that his superior felt there wasn’t enough evidence and refused to even ask the crown prosecution service for a decision. He just closed it with no further action.”
Though Smith expresses her relief that the relationship had ended, she continued to struggle with her mental health even after the break-up. 
She experienced depressive episodes, self-harm, and severe anxiety. At times, Smith says she was scared to leave the house out of fear she would see one of the men who had been apart of the sexual abuse she endured while with her ex.
In January of 2023, Smith says she had a severe self-harming episode, and contacted her local hospital for help. 
She was directed to the emergency room at Chesterfield Hospital due to a lack of space, and was ultimately admitted to the Hartington Unit, the hospital’s psychiatric facility. Smith was placed in the female section for treatment, where she would spend the next few weeks rehabilitating. 
While there, Smith befriended a few other female patients in the unit — one of which, unbeknownst to Smith, identified as non-binary.
“There was no mention of her being non-binary. I didn’t know. I had heard her make a comment about another patient, saying that she was ‘transphobic and no mental illness causes that,’ which I thought was strange,” Smith says, continuing: “But there was no mention of her identity specifically. She seemed to be on a low-end of having a mental illness and was very functional.”
While the two had an amicable relationship at first, things went downhill after the non-binary individual overheard Smith discussing her ex-partner with another patient.
“She heard me talking to this other lady in the common area … I was opening about my ex and mentioned he was transgender,” Smith explained. She says that after she came in from an evening cigarette break, the non-binary patient was “screaming at the top of her lungs” about trans rights.
“She was standing in the communal area, shouting ‘trans women are women,’” Smith says. “She was shouting it. This wasn’t a private conversation.”
Smith explains she immediately perceived the outburst as being directed at her, and approached the young woman to relay her own experience.
“I told her, ‘go and get raped by one and tell me how much of a woman they are,’” Smith says. “I didn’t shout at her, and then I walked off and went to bed.”
It was the next day that the incident occurred which was ultimately reported to police.
“I got into an argument with a nurse who kept insisting the shouting patient was non-binary, not female. That gaslighting affects me in a strange way, because of my experience. [The nurse] told me, ‘they’re not a woman,’ and I said, ‘yes she is, she’s on a women’s ward, for a start.’”
Smith says she got very upset, and the non-binary patient overheard the conversation and began shouting from another area, recognizing the conversation had been about her.
Smith’s new partner would later call the hospital to complain about the nurse’s conduct, concerned that they had caused her emotional distress.
“We could not work out how this hospital was, on one hand, supposed to treat me for my trauma which they understood was caused by a transgender male, and on the other, argue with me that a woman was not a woman.”
Smith says the incident made her  want to leave the hospital because she felt increasingly distrustful of the staff. 
She was discharged at the end of February, and, approximately one month later, was issued a notice from Derbyshire Police informing her she was required to attend the station for a formal interview.
In the letter, police explain Smith was alleged to have “performed a public order offense” in which she “directed words deemed offensive towards another individual on the ward.” 
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The date on the letter corresponds with the conversation Smith had with the nurse in the kitchen about the non-binary patient.
Smith explained that she was incredulous about the letter, taking particular issue with the fact police issued it despite knowing she had been a patient on a psychiatric ward receiving treatment for her mental health.
“This specific thing does not frighten me. I know they won’t be able to prosecute me. I know the law well enough… but the fact that the police are able to harass women because of their speech is frightening,” Smith says. “There’s nothing I said that is criminal. But it does worry me that they are doing this to women.”
Reduxx and The Publica reached out to Derbyshire Police for comment but did not receive a response to the inquiry.
In the interim, Smith says she has no intention of contacting police, noting that they have her contact information but have yet to reach out to establish a date for her station interview.
“If they want me to come down, they know where I am. This whole asking me to be proactive to arrange for my own police interview… I’m not going to do that. I shouldn’t have to.”
Smith only recently became more involved in discussions surrounding gender identity through online communities, seeking support for her past experience having been abused by a trans-identified male.
“This whole movement… it’s a misogynistic men’s movement, I feel. It has nothing to do with ‘trans rights.’ They’re going after vulnerable women, and demanding we change the way we see the world.”
Disturbingly, Smith is not the first woman in the United Kingdom to face police intervention after “offending” a transgender individual.
In January of this year, a disabled woman in South Wales had her home searched and was subjected to police detention after being reported for committing a “transphobic hate crime” for putting up stickers raising awareness about domestic violence. 
The next month, Caroline Farrow, a mother of five who has been outspoken against gender ideology, had her house forced into by Surrey Police after her social media activity was reported as criminal. Farrow had previously been investigated by police in 2019 for misgendering a trans-identified male on Twitter.
*Smith’s surname has been changed to protect her identity.
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warriorsparked · 1 year
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Get To Know The Mun
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------The Basics!
Name: Owl (or Sam).
Pronouns: He/Him
Zodiac Sign: Libra (Scorpio cusp)
Single/Taken: Married
------Three Facts!
1- I grew up on horror movies and metal musik. Although my library is also full of different genres, metal music and synthwave (tho I'm fussy) are my favourites. 80's music is still some of the best music to this date imo. Watching slashers and thrillers are sort of comfort films to me, in a sense, which might seem odd to some people. But growing up in the 90's as a kid that liked these things, I was very outcasted. Writing Megatron and getting inside his head was a big outlet for me, and he's definitely a comfort character because of all the stuff he's endured. The post-war series I began writing started over 10 years ago. Back then, it was a personal journey for me just as much as it was for him. And now, over 10 years later, I'm rewriting the whole series (or... most of it lol), and looking back has been another wonderful journey, and also the reason I got back into the TF community!
2- I work in healthcare. I've worked in hospitals, clinics and Drs offices. I take legitimately any sample that can be produced by the human body from any part of the human body--yep... I mean any part (swabs, bloods, urines, faeces, histo, semen--ANYTHING), I also do heart checks and BP's, and covid, which let me tell you... working in healthcare during a pandemic is likely one of the hardest things I've ever done. I'm still burnt out and many of us are, so please give your healthcare workers some slack. <3 I've almost finished my studies for training and assessing, so I'm hoping to become a mentor or a teacher/trainer in my field :)
3- I was diagnosed late in life with Autism (severe Aspergers). Although I'd already diagnosed myself (lol, I'm obsessed with psychology and had also diagnosed my sister with BPD when I was like 16 which turned out to be legit), having that professional diagnosis meant a lot for me when it came to understanding myself and my behaviours, especially in my adolescence. It can mean at times that I am very overwhelmed and SLOW here (I'm also still studying, working, learning German and piano, plus I have other hobbies and blogs). Please don't take it personally if I don't always reply in IMs, especially due to time zones, but sometimes I'm just legitimately exhausted mentally and physically. My work is extremely demanding and busy and renders me fatigued. I also have other health stuff going on which renders me tired on a daily basis (:
------Experience!
Platforms Used: DeviantART, hotmail, MSN, RP forums, Skype, Tumblr. I've been around a long time lol.
Plotting / Winging It / Memes: All of the above tbh. I think that memes are a really good way to break the ice, but I definitely love plots as well, and getting to have long term RP partners <3 Srsly, if we're long term, I will likely gush with you about potential ships and stuff lol.
------Muse Preference!
Gender: I've Rped all, but I definitely feel more comfortable with male muses. I relate better with them.
Multi or Single: I've got both, and it entirely depends on how active the muse is. I definitely think single muses are easier to handle, but I've also got muses that had been neglected because signing in onto different profiles was a pain in the arse lol, and their activity was so low I felt like there was barely a point in having their whole blog to themselves, so I moved them all to a multi, and it's been a lot easier for me to manage. But then there's some muses that are just so loud that they gotta be on single ones lol.
Least Favourite Faceclaim(s): Most Game of Thrones actors are very over used, especially in some of the fandoms I'm in.
------Fluff / Angst / Smut!
Fluff: I adore fluff. But with Megatron, it's got to be a long standing relationship. He's not known for breaking down his walls and being comfortable exposing himself. It's going to take a lot of time and patience.
Angst: Look, I am a SUCKER for angst okay. Megatron is OOZING it anyway lol. But yes, angst!
Smut: I've been writing smut for over a decade, I'm very comfortable with it, and I love writing it. But I'm also PICKY with it, because the muses need to have chemistry, and if there's none, then it's not going to happen. Megatron is likely to sleep with MANY people, but there's also gotta be chemistry between the mods as well, because this is something that I do take pretty seriously when involving someone else. Just because I'm hella ace doesn't mean the muse is lol, and if there's chemistry, then heck yeah. I'm pretty open minded.
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Tagged: @blackwldcw ( thank you dear! ) Tagging: If you're not done it yet, then YOU!
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clicruz13 · 9 months
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Peter and Bruce
Chapter 4: Bruce Wayne, Crime Lord of Gotham; Part 2
‘Seesh, Duke, what do you do? Roll in the mud?’ Peter began separating what he thought was supposed to be whites from colors.
Peter hummed a few oldies as he sorted. The late spring breeze wafted the smell of freshly mowed grass. Peter just stayed in the moment, allowing his mind to partially blank.
‘What the -?’ Peter was yanked back to full attention when he picked up a pair of heavy yellow gloves.
‘He uses his teenage kids!’ Peter vibrated in slight agitation. ‘What am I saying? Of course, he does. Duke’s a metahuman.’
Peter blew out an exasperated breath.
The clearly armored gloves had a light coating of dried mud. Peter checked them for any sign of tech.
‘Nothing electronic.’ Peter turned the yellow and black gloves inside out for a few seconds. ‘Hm, Knuckle guards and an insulator for electricity? What he’s like Dillon?’
“Hey, Peter, do you have my laun-” Duke walked in.
‘Think of the devil.’ Peter turned, gloves in hand.
Duke’s micro-expression made Peter laugh privately in his mind. Duke settled on an over-the-top cheer.
“Oh, hey!” Duke reached for the gloves. “You found my cosplay gloves.”
Peter couldn’t help the skeptical look that crossed his face. ‘Are you actually going with that, kid?’
“Yeah, man. I know, but the girl I’m dating in school is into it… So.”
‘Right. Four out of ten. Seesh, he isn’t much better than I was at that age.’ Peter allowed Duke to take them. ‘Granted his is a bit more believable. So 6 out of ten.’
[Meet girl?] Peter couldn’t help himself. [Serious?]
“Ah….” Duke panicked. “Maybe? Don’t… no?”
Duke’s foot caught on Damian’s basket. Duke ended up on the ground.
Duke went invisible.
Peter jerked in surprise. He could make vague outline of Duke and could hear the boy scramble.
“Ah, shit.”
After a moment, Peter began to give a wheezy laugh.
‘Oh, gods.’ Peter wiped tears from his eyes with his shirt sleeve. ‘Sorry, kid.’
Peter recollected Damian’s clothes. ‘So he’s more like Sue or Miles.’
Peter stared down at Damian’s ki for a long moment. ‘Is there some personality trait reason why invisibility-type metas develop?’
He resumed. ‘Too bad I can’t run that by Hank or Banner.’
______________________________________________
‘Sounds like Jason.’ Peter perked up as he passed the main Game room. ‘Just the man I’m looking for.’
“- suspect something.” Jason was responding to someone. “Thompson said – hey, Peter!”
‘Did I miss another information opp-’ Peter’s mind just stopped as he saw the back of Jason’s conversation partner. Rather the wheelchair.
“Please don’t.” Peter took a step back from her.
Her dark eyes flickered up at him. Gwen Stacy rolled to face him, her expression angry Peter flailed mentally for words to say. Guilt and the anxiety of the meeting was making it difficult.
“I don’t need your apologize.” She hissed.”You and I were a mistake.”
Peter step back again, shoulders slumping in. Gwen winced, looking away as she spoke.
“I am grateful you saved mine and my father’s life. Because of that, I won’t out you.” Gwen looked at him. “Being in the hospital gave me time to think, Parker. You, you were fun and kind but -”
Peter shivered. “You’re dangerous to be with. I guess Flash was more correct than he knew, huh.”
“Hey, Peter, you alright?” Peter barely kept from shielding away.
‘It’s Jason.’ Peter ground himself. ‘And company. It is not Stacy. And why am I remembering it now?’
Jason’s hand hovered near his shoulder for a moment. Peter plastered a polite smile on his face. The redhead in the wheelchair offered her hand which Peter took. Her grip was quite strong.
“Barbara Gordon.” She smiled brightly. “You must be Peter, Alfred’s assistant. I’ve heard wonderful things about you.”
‘Where have I heard Gordon before?’
Peter glanced at Jason, whom threw his hands up. “Look, man. Nothing bad outta my mouth.”
Barbara laughed. “It’s true. Only Tim actually complains about you and it’s more in the vein of how anyone can not live without social media than anything else.”
Peter shrugged. ‘Old habit. Not being traceable was more important…’
[Bad Clock?] He signed.
Barbara and Jason exchanged looks. “No, man. Did you need something?”
Peter fished out his money and the list.
“A laptop?” Barbara peered at the list which Jason tilted to allow her to see. “Why’d didn’t you ask Tim?”
One of Peter’s eyes twitched. He gestured with crossed arms and than pantomimed using a game-pad.
This received laughter from the pair. “That sounded like you tried talking with him already.
“Yet you want a pretty specific digital camera?” Jason’s brow furrowed.
Peter pantomimed using a camera and gave a sweep of the vista outside. “Got it? Kinda. I’ll see what I can do…Might be a few days, tho.”
[Thank you.] Peter gestured.
After saying good bye, he heard Jason comment.
“What? I am not calling him “P”… it just sounds wrong.”
Peter snickered to himself. ‘Right. Operation Get Tools stage one successful. Now, let’s see if I can investigate the attic before Alfred needs me for another task.’
______________________________________________
Wayne sipped on whiskey as he was lit by the firelight when Peter came in with the dinner tray. Peter pointedly ignored the man’s stare as he set up. Wayne hadn’t been home until nearly midnight today.
“Where’s Alfred?”
[Bed.] Peter felt proud at the smoothness of the gesture. Practice with Cass was paying off.
Only the steel blues glinted as Peter waited for a dismissal.
“You’re quite the mystery.” Wayne finally spoke, his tone a lazy predator. “Gamma level at the very least. Super-strength.”
‘Creepy much, Wayne.’ Peter pursed his lips.
“Durability. Advanced regeneration. Impossibly quick reflexes.” Wayne stood up and began stalking. “Immune to physic intrusion. No known history of activity.’
‘Whoa.’ Peter’s back slapped against the wall. ‘Wait, what?’
Wayne looked like death warmed over, disheveled and tired beyond belief. His eyes, though, shined with unnatural light.
He leaned closer, whispering. “Who are you, Peter Benjamin Parker?”
The smell of whiskey made Peter think of the things he had been avoiding for years. And with Wayne, reaching down to touch him!
‘Ah, nope, not doing this.’
Peter mentally boxed those things away in an attempt to stem the rising panic. He needed to keep his head!
Peter gently shoved Wayne away. Tried to, however it resulted in Wayne stumbling and landing in his chair. Wayne looked like a lost puppy. Alfred stepped out of the darkness like an avenging angel in a nightcap.
“I think, Master Bruce, it is clearly time for bed.” Peter would have kissed Alfred for the save. “Peter, I apologize for having you put the food away again but I think Master Bruce needs his rest more.”
Alfred skillfully man-handled a confused Bruce out of the room. Peter was left thankfully alone.
Alfred found him, pouring the whiskey down the kitchen sink. Peter stared blankly, unthinking, leaning against the sink. Alfred placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Are you alright, my boy?”
Peter jolted, giving a strained smile.
‘Yep. Fine. No problem here.’
Alfred nodded his acceptance. They both stood, watching the bottle finish with a plop of sound.
“I think it might be high time to clear out the bar.” Alfred said mildly. “Master Bruce knows better.”
Peter managed a half-hearted snigger. The silence was more companionable.
“Peter, if you ever need to talk, I’m here.” Alfred tilted his head slightly. “Or we can find you someone who you could talk to.”
Peter closed his eyes. ‘Thank you, Alfred.’
______________________________________________
Doctor Thompson examined Peter’s back. Peter could hear Tim typing down the hall through the open door. Alfred had said something and all of the Manor kids constantly ran interference between him and Wayne. Peter couldn’t help but feel deeply touched.
“I’m about to touch your back.” Thompson warned.
Peter twitched and twisted despite the warning. Thompson hummed in concern.
“Unfortunately we’re going to have to find a different solution. The Sensorblok isn’t intended for prolong use.” Thompson sighed.
[Bandage Shirt fine.] Peter gestured.
‘Granted I’m not looking forward to retraining my senses back to full blast.’ Peter lamented. ‘Well, it was nice while it lasted.’
“It will have to do.” Thompson agreed. “Have you thought about it?”
[Not yet. Now fine. Need time.]
“Understood.” Thompson closed her medical bag. “Let Alfred know if you change your mind. See you in two weeks.”
______________________________________________
“Here.” Jason handed him a phone.
Peter blanked out for a second.
“Timbo said that you didn’t have a phone.” Jason put his hands in his pocket as he slough down. “Didn’t get ya anything top of the line, just in case you gave to get rid of it.”
Peter ignored the knowing look. Peter scrolled through the contacts. He looked up sharply at a specific one. Jason, taken the seat next to him, chuckled.
“Well, he being one.” A dark undercurrent entwined in the amusement. “Alfred didn’t say much but well, it wasn’t hard to figure out what happened. Side’ he hasn’t made any sort of apologies.”
‘So he can apologize.’ Peter gave a skeptical look. ‘Outside of when he’s in public? I’ll believe when I see it.’
Peter hummed in appreciation of the camera. ‘It is so nice to have a Nikon back in my hands.’
Jason snorted. “I didn’t know you could purr.”
“Huh.” Peter blinked at Jason.
“Don’t worry about it.” Jason flipped over the laptop, a brand named WE. “Sorry, it took an extra day. Timbo set you up with internet.”
Peter narrowed his eyes. “Hey, I only let him set up the internet connection. He had to register it with the home network. I made sure he didn’t add anything extra.”
Jason laughed. “Timbo complained that he never meet someone so anti-games.”
‘I am not anti-games.’ Peter countered with a scowl. ‘I just never had much time between caring for Aunt May, college, working, and patrolling. Not that anyone knows that.’
“Hey, not a problem, I’m more of a book person myself.”
Peter shoved Jason gently at his smug look.
‘Don’t I know. Half the time in the kitchen with a book and whatever cookies you’ve stolen out of Alfred's jar.’
Jason wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder, ignoring the shudder.
“That said, your next day off is what Friday? Join us for game night.”
Game night never happened.
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twistedtummies2 · 11 months
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The Price May Be Right - Number 17
Welcome to “The Price May Be Right!” I’m counting down My Top 31 Favorite Vincent Price Performances & Appearances! The countdown will cover movies, TV productions, and many more forms of media. Today we focus on Number 17: Paul Toombs, from Madhouse.
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“Madhouse” is probably one of Vincent Price’s more underrated pictures. It’s not a film I hear a lot of people talk about, which is a shame because it really is one of Price’s more interesting cinematic endeavors. This is yet another case where Price basically plays a fictionalized version of himself. The difference, however, is that rather than being a sort of self-parody, or even a parody of his career, the film plays things more earnestly. The plot focuses on Paul Toombs, a movie star who got his name in horror movies. Most notably, he was the titular character in a series of movies that – based on their description – must have been the precursors to the SAW franchise. The series was simply (and unoriginally) called “Doctor Death,” about a deranged criminal mastermind who enjoyed torturing and killing his victims in various brutal and sadistic ways. Paul is beloved and applauded by audiences, if not the critics, for his many successes and performances…especially as Dr. Death. One night, after announcing his engagement to a beautiful young lady, however, things take a sudden turn for the horrible for poor Paul Toombs. He blacks out at a party, and when he regains consciousness, he finds that his fiancé has been murdered! Not only that, but the murder resembles a scene out of one of his Dr. Death pictures. Paul is suspected of the murder, but the case is never proven; believing he might be going mad, he checks himself into an mental hospital, and remains there for years… …But that’s not where the story ends. You see, eventually, Paul leaves the hospital and returns to the world of the movies. His old partner in filmmaking and best friend – writer Herbert Flay, played by Peter Cushing – reveals that he is working on ways to bring Dr. Death back to life. Against his better judgment, Toombs agrees to reprise his greatest role…and as soon as he does, murders and horrible accidents occur. Each time, Paul blacks out before the hideous events happen. As the film goes on, Paul finds his grip on sanity ebbing away, as he is unsure if he is the killer, or if something larger is afoot. This movie isn’t perfect. The ending is a bit…weird, to say the least, and there are some plot contrivances that cannot be overlooked. However, what makes the film work, at the end of the day, is simply its sense of self-referential style. This is basically one giant love letter to Vincent Price’s whole career, up to that point. Not only is he basically playing himself, but whenever scenes from Paul Toombs’ movies are shown, they are actually taken from stock footage from various older Vincent Price pictures. The fact that Peter Cushing – one of Price’s best friends and colleagues in real life – plays Price’s friend in this film is likely no accident. There’s a wonderful scene where Toombs is on a TV interview, and talks about why he thinks people like villains and scary movies. With the way it plays out, its hard to tell if Price is really playing Paul, or if he’s simply speaking as himself. The closeness to real life makes this one of the most sincere performances Vincent ever gave; I’m sure a lot of Paul’s frustrations – disregarding the matter of serial murders – were frustrations Vincent had in real life, as well, with the people he knew and the situations he often found himself in. The joys he felt were likely also the same. As a result, it becomes difficult to tell where the fantasy ends and reality begins, as well as vice-versa. It’s one of the grandest self-tributes the actor ever appeared in, and if you’re a Vincent Price fan even in the remotest sense, you owe it to yourself to give this one a watch. We’re about to hit the halfway point for this series. Tomorrow, the countdown continues with Number 16!
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crazy-dog-lady-81 · 1 year
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Unconventional Conventions
Chapter 21
It came as no surprise to either Amelia or Kai. When he had received their legal request to undergo a psychiatric evaluation, Link had become extremely upset. This they had expected; if the tables were turned, they both felt sure they'd be feeling the same way.
However, they felt equally sure that they would manage to keep their emotions and behaviours in check. Link had erupted in fury and had caused significant damage to Jo Wilsons' apartment. When his lawyer had called to tell him about the couples' stipulation, he had thrown chairs, tables, and crockery about. To make it worse, Jo and her daughter Luna had been forced to leave, fearing for their safety.
The police had been called, and Link had found himself in police custody. Jo had decided not to press charges against him, and after spending a night in the cells, he had been released with a warning.
A week later, Link had finally undergone the assessment. The report had been pretty much as Kai's uncle had predicted. The psychiatrist had determined that Link was currently mentally ill. They had made a diagnosis of psychoses. Based on the episode with Jo, he had recommended that Link be admitted to a psychiatric hospital for treatment. That's where Link was now.
These events brought Amelia and Kai no satisfaction. Amelia, in particular, was hurting for him. She genuinely saw that Link was a good man, one who was going through a difficult time. She had no wish to make things worse for him, and if they had been able to come to an agreement about Scout's care, she wouldn't have asked any of this of him at all.
Even this morning, when her phone had rung, and their own lawyer had told them that Link had decided to drop his custody application, Amelia had felt no sense of victory. Of course, she and Kai were thrilled to learn that they would not lose their son. How could they not? But, they did see this as a reason to rub salt into Link's wounds.
Instead, they currently sat on their sofa, side by side. Kai had their arm draped protectively around their fiancé's shoulder. Amelia sighed and rested back into their side, laying her head on their strong shoulder. Kai placed a tender kiss on her head.
"I can't believe that it’s all over. Just like that. Without the fight, drama, or trauma that we'd expected, "Amelia mused.
A hum from her partner told Amelia that they agreed with her.
"I know we expected a fight, were even prepared for it. In my wildest dreams, I never could have imagined that it would have ended like this," they replied.
"Yeah, for sure. It's impossible to believe that Link would be in psychiatric care, seriously mentally ill."
"Amelia, you need to remember that while none of this is ideal, at least he's in the right place, where he'll get the help that he needs. Plus, thanks to Jo not pressing charges, he’s going to be able to practice again as soon as he's well enough."
Amelia knew Kai was right. Link would be alright with the proper care.
"I hope he'll make good progress so he can resume his place in Scout's life."
Until Link’s mental health improved, they had made the decision to keep Scout away from him. As he progressed, Amelia and Kai were open to reconsidering this position and bringing him back into the toddlers life. Link would always be his father, and they were committed to making this three-way parenting scenario work.
Over the baby monitor, which was placed on the coffee table in front of them, came the sounds of Scout waking up from his afternoon nap. Still basking in the glow of new parenthood, Kai immediately stood to go to him. Amelia couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm.
Her smile widened as she listened to the interaction between the two. She could clearly picture Kai smiling goofily at the blonde boy and reaching to pick him up gently. The neuroscientist spoke to Scout in a soft, calm voice.
"Well, hey there, lil' dude. Did you have a good nap? Come on up here so I can see you."
Amelia imagined Kai bouncing Scout on their hip while a still sleepy Scout wrapped his arms around their neck and cuddled into their body. Her mental image was proven accurate when Kai came downstairs with the boy.
"What are you smiling about, Shepherd?"
"My two favourite and most beloved people in the world."
"Oh. Well, in that case, please do carry on."
Kai set Scout down on his feet. The child sat down with his toys and Amelia's heart swelled with love as his new parent sat down with him. She knew that this play time Kai shared with him was vital to the bonding process between them. That Kai was patiently, diligently, and enthusiastically doing the work, made her love them even more, something that she didn’t think possible.
Amelia wanted him to have a parental figure in his life who would teach him to ride a bike, fish, swim, and once, she'd have said those things would be Link’s job. Now, looking at her child and her partner giggling together, she wasn’t so sure. Now she could picture Kai doing those things with him. And if she was being completely honest with herself, the thought filled her with joy.
"Hey, Amelia. Come join us. Family time means the whole family."
She didn’t need to be asked twice.
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wukindly · 1 year
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I posted 95 times in 2022
That's 8 more posts than 2021!
87 posts created (92%)
8 posts reblogged (8%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@wukindly
@kajillionaires
@brighteststar707
@beautifullypoetic
I tagged 85 of my posts in 2022
Only 11% of my posts had no tags
#duskwood - 30 posts
#julie plays duskwood - 27 posts
#julie replies - 20 posts
#friends - 15 posts
#oof - 9 posts
#anon - 8 posts
#jake duskwood - 7 posts
#jake donfort - 7 posts
#duskwood jake - 7 posts
#jake - 6 posts
Longest Tag: 99 characters
#martin is a prince and something about him just................... made me fall in love really fast
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
Duskwood | MASTERLIST
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JAKE
IMAGINES
The World Around Us Disappears Summary: Jake had thought about how their first meeting would go before, but nothing sounded as sweet as the scenario MC once shared with him.
72 notes - Posted February 5, 2022
#4
After Yoosung’s Route
“Hi Julie! Congratulations on 5.5k! It's completely deserved <3 For the requests (if you're still taking them), could I ask for some fluffy yoosung headcanons that take place after his route? Yoosung growing and having a partner for the first time? Thank you <;333” by @brighteststar707
Pairing(s): Kim Yoosung/gn!reader Word Count: 1.1k Genre: fluff, slight mentions of hurt, comfort
A/N: This starts right after his route ends.
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Even though he’d insisted that he was fine and that you shouldn’t worry about his eye, you couldn’t help yourself, just like the rest of the RFA. Jumin wasn't kidding when he told Jaehee to contact the hospital as Yoosung's injury required attention - and the other members also agreed that it might have been too soon for Yoosung to be at an event like their party in the condition he was in.
One of the things that attracted Yoosung the most about you was your caring and supportive personality, so he wasn't surprised at all when you offered to take him to the hospital to check if he was indeed alright. Seven also promptly suggested that he go along, as he was feeling guilty about what had happened.
He would have preferred the others to have taken his word that he was fine, yet Yoosung agreed to go with you. After the events of the last few days, almost losing you and not even being able to go see if you were okay, he would take any opportunity to be with the one he'd been yearning for.
You might have gotten to know each other well on the messenger, but both of you were still eager to learn even more - especially now that you weren't pre-dating anymore. Yoosung could very well spend hours talking about the things he liked, but he was way more delighted to hear you talk about your own hobbies and experiences.
Yoosung was touch-starved when it came to you. He always made sure to be touching you in some way when you were together, whether it was “accidentally” brushing his arm against yours, holding your hands or straight up holding you. It was like an assurance that you were there, right next to him, safe.
You were the one to bring up the “therapy” subject. So much had happened in the short time you had known each other and you felt that Yoosung's mental health should be a priority.
Of course that he knew that things had been hard for him, but he still was a bit hesitant. He had no problem opening up to you or a close friend, but doing it so to a total stranger was different. However, remembering the conversation he had with V about Rika's issues and how she had refused treatment, he decided to give it a try.
He finally started acknowledging his own issues and working on them. Before, Yoosung wasn’t completely aware that he used LOLOL to cope with everything that happened. He knew, to a certain level, that he used the game to distract himself, but he could not see that his addiction was due to a coping mechanism.
Even though it's hurtful, he began exploring his feelings towards Rika's death. Recognizing the great impact his cousin had on him and that he didn't need to forget or walk away from it, but that there were healthier ways to move on with his life even if grief was still present.
Being the open partner he was, Yoosung looked for your support and comfort outside of therapy as he was working through these things. Healing is a hard and long path, so he was grateful that he had someone by his side that was patient enough to listen to him.
He meant what he said at the party, that he wanted to become a better person for you. With therapy, he also started working on the mindset of becoming better for himself as well.
Getting more and more of his motivation back and with the support of you and his friends, Yoosung's attention on his studies increased. That meant he had to learn to balance the time he spent with you with the time he focused on college. The life of a student is not easy.
That in no way meant that he neglected you. Even if he was studying for a big exam that was coming up, he still found time to text and call to make sure you were okay and eating properly.
There was this one time that Yoosung had invited you to his apartment so you could spend some time together and relax after he finished reviewing a few things for his finals. It was supposed to be just a few things, so you'd arrived while he was still studying and tried to keep yourself busy until he was done. Unfortunately, the study took more time than he’d expected and, when he realized, there wasn’t that much time left for you to hang out. Trying to cheer him up, as the man was repeatedly apologizing for making you wait, you suggested that maybe you could stay the night.
Since it was so late...
And you would like to spend time with him...
And, well...
Yoosung felt his face burning as he pulled the blanket over both of you. He was relieved that the light was already off so you couldn't see how red his cheeks were. He might have grown to be more confident in himself overall, but nothing could have prepared him for that. Due to the size of his bed, you were lying very close to each other. Yoosung could feel your warmth from where he was, feel your breath lightly against his face. His eye was still adjusting to the dark, but he could already make out the outline of your head leaning against his pillow. He wondered if you were also looking at him. Yoosung felt his heart skip a beat as one of your hands found its way to his belly, quickly guiding itself to wrap your arm around his waist. As if it were a second nature to him, the man moved his own arms around your body, pulling you closer. Your sigh of contentment as you buried your face in his neck didn't go unnoticed by Yoosung, bringing a soft smile to his face. "Good night, (Y/N)." he placed a kiss on the top of your head. "Thank you for staying."
Yoosung found he slept much better with you around. Even though he had spent most of the previous day studying, he’d woken up feeling refreshed in the morning.
He went on to invite you to his apartment more often in hopes that maybe you'd want to spend the night there again.
Another time you were there, Yoosung discovered how good it was to study while you snuggled him. The first few times that happened, he found it kind of hard to focus on his books with you so close, but he learned to make it work - mostly because he knew you'd stop doing it if you knew it was distracting him.
All in all, he was still going through a learning process, both about relationships and himself.
MASTERLIST
94 notes - Posted August 21, 2022
#3
Their S/O leaves on a one year trip
“Konnichiwa! Its my first time requesting something, so I hope this request won’t sound weird. Can I have a headcanon of saeyoung and yoosung when their s/o leave on a one year trip then comes back? Thank you!!” by anon
Featuring: Choi Saeyoung, Kim Yoosung
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》 CHOI SAEYOUNG
Saeyoung had already mastered the skill of hiding his true feelings from people, so he didn’t let it show how heartbroken he was. He might be used to being alone, but it didn’t mean he liked the feeling of being lonely.
He acted like the most supportive boyfriend. You were already pretty hyped about the whole situation, but Saeyoung doubled your expectations. A few days after you told him what your plans were and the places you wanted to go, he came to you with a list of wonderful and lesser-known attractions that you just couldn't miss while you were there - and he himself seemed very excited about it all as he rambled about each location.
On the day of your departure, he managed to get every RFA member to see you off with him. Even though he’d tried to convince himself that he was only doing this because he knew you would love to see everyone before you left, he knew deep down that he was also doing it for himself. Saeyoung did know he was going to miss you terribly, and thought that having the others around him would be somewhat comforting in the moment.
Of course you kept in touch with him every day. Saeyoung would log into the messenger every few hours to see if you were online. Whenever you were, he’d want to know if you were safe and having a good time, because honestly that's what really mattered to him.
Over the course of that one year, the RFA chatroom was filled with photos of you and the beautiful sightings you'd seen, as you wanted to share this experience with your friends. Saeyoung obviously swooned every time he saw your face in any of the files you sent.
You noticed the “707 has entered the chatroom” notification popping up in the chatroom as soon as you finished uploading your new photo. Even though you were previously talking to Jaehee about the new place you were visiting, Saeyoung managed to be quicker than everyone else with his reactions. “Woa-!” he exclaimed, sending you his heart eyes emoji. “If you were a fruit,” Jaehee's message popped up right after. "Please, don't." "You'd be a fine-apple." You snorted, not being able to hide the smile growing on your lips. The other RFA members, however, didn't seem to appreciate the cheesy words as much as you did. “(Y/N), when do you get back? Seven has been insufferable since you went away.” Zen complained. “Can’t a guy compliment his honeybunch sugarplum anymore??” Saeyoung wrote dramatically. “Can’t a guy show his love and appreciation for the one who makes his heart thump thump in his chest????” “Not in the chatroom!” Zen retorted. “Yoosung’s eyes are too innocent for your messages.” It didn't take more than five seconds for Yoosung to send his own angry emoji. “Hey! They are not! But ya, go text them in private or something.”
 Even when you sent him a photo in private, he made a point of commenting in the RFA chatroom that “his beloved blessed him with a picture, but that he could not share much information about it”. Zen thought that was actually worse as there were so many possibilities of what that could mean.
There was nothing particularly risqué or inappropriate about the photos you sent him in private; you were doing it mainly because the others were complaining about Seven. However, both of you really enjoyed to tease Zen with the idea that something might be going on.
Even though you were miles and miles away from each other, you still tried to do a few things together over the phone - that included your monthly horror movie night. Of course, watching a movie with Saeyoung on a video call wasn't the same. You'd deny it if anyone asked, but you kind of missed the way he'd try to scare you when you were together. Still, it was comforting to do these little activities with him, as it also served as a reminder of what would be waiting for you at home.
He was the one to pick you up at the airport when you got back. From the moment you let yourself be wrapped in a hug, you knew that he wouldn’t leave your side for the next couple of days. And, honestly, you didn’t mind it at all. You did have a lot to catch up on.
It hadn't been long since you'd arrived at your house. You and Saeyoung were sitting on the floor of your bedroom next to each other, suitcases scattered around the place. As you looked around the room you hadn't seen in a year, a thought popped into your head. “Oh! Now that we’re here, I can finally say it.” Saeyoung raised an eyebrow at your words. You reached for one of your suitcases, looking for something inside its contents. “I came bearing gifts!” “Wha-” when he saw you take a box in your hands, the man's eyes widened slightly, but he quickly narrowed them in mock accusation. “Why didn't you tell me this sooner?” "Because I knew that if I'd told you on the airport, you wouldn't have been able to wait until we got here." He let out an exaggerated sigh as he shook his head. “Unfortunately, you know me too well.” you nudged the box towards him, encouraging him to take it from you. A teasing grin crossed his face. "You shouldn't have." Those might have been the words that came out of his mouth, but his excitement at receiving that surprise gift was noticeable in his posture. “I know it isn’t much.” a half truth; although there were a lot of things, they were just small keychains, pendants and stickers. “You were always on my mind and I guess I wanted to bring you something from each place I went to so you could feel like you were there with me.” You watched as he took a few souvenirs in his hands for a better look. You beamed at him when one particular keychain caught his eyes – you’d been waiting for him to notice it. You almost couldn't believe it yourself when you came across from it at this one store that sold some unusual items. There you’d found it, a Longcat keychain. “This one is my favorite.” you chuckled, seeing him carefully analyzing it. “I thought of you as soon as I saw it.” Saeyoung's gaze softened at your words, thankfulness clear in his eyes when he turned to you once again. It meant a lot to him, you knew it did. The corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile; oh, it had been one long year. One of his hands went to the back of your neck, pulling your face closer as he leaned toward you. You whined at the feeling of his lips engulfing yours in a passionate kiss, your arms reaching blindly for his waist. There were so many feelings evident in Saeyoung's movements - so much yearning, neediness, gratitude and love. You had almost forgotten how he had the ability to take your breath away. You could feel the cold keychain grazing your cheek as he moved his other hand to your face. “I missed you.” he murmured tenderly against your lips. You tightened your grip around him. “I missed you too.”
He cherished your gifts more than you knew. A few weeks later, you found the Longcat keychain in his jacket pocket. Saeyoung had left it there so he could have it with him at all times - it was particularly useful whenever he felt overwhelmed, for it was a reminder that you were in his life and would be there for him. It had easily become one of his greatest prized possessions.
》 KIM YOOSUNG
Yoosung was not so good at hiding his feelings, so you knew that he was taken aback by the news. Those watering eyes couldn’t lie. Ever since you started dating, there wasn’t a week that went by that you hadn’t seen each other. He was just so used to having you around and a year was a long time to be apart from you.
It was bittersweet for him really.
He tried to suck it up as soon as his feelings allowed him. Yoosung knew that this was something you’d wanted for a while and watching you finally making this dream of yours come true made him happy. He made sure to let you know how excited he was, asking you about all of your plans and things you were looking forward to.
You still talked to each other every day after your departure.
And every single day he texted you to make sure that you were eating well. That didn’t surprise you at all, for Yoosung already had a habit of asking you the same thing three times a day even when you were together.
“Good morning, cutie pie! Did you have breakfast?” A smile quickly spread on your lips as you saw the message pop up on your phone. You’d been waiting for it. Yoosung’s messages were like clockwork. This time, you’d even taken a picture of your food before eating so you could send it to him. “I did, Yoosungie. It was delicious, but nothing could be as good as your omelette.” If there was something you missed about home other than your friends and boyfriend, it was definitely the latter’s cooking. He claimed that he was still learning, but it was better than anything you could ever make. Your smile only widened when you saw his reply popping up in the chat. “I promise I will make you one when you get back, don’t worry!”
Sometimes, when neither of you had a busy tiring day, you’d stay on the phone for hours. He’d tell you everything about his day - going from how he was trying to get better grades at college to this really unfair match he lost on LOLOL. Then, he’d eagerly ask you about yours, paying attention to every word coming out of your mouth.
It happened more than once that both of you fell asleep while still on call. Yoosung personally loved whenever this happened, because he’d get to wake up to your voice calling him.
He might have said once or twice that he didn’t like taking selfies that much, but by the end of the trip, you had a whole album just for pictures of him. He’d always send them with the excuse that he didn’t want you to “miss him too much or forget what he looks like”. The truth was that he was just sending them in hopes that he’d get a selfie of you back, because he missed you.
Yoosung was waiting for you at the airport the day you finally got back. He couldn’t help but cry when he saw you again. Happy tears, obviously - he was just so happy that you were back, safe and sound.
He was trying to stay strong, but it was so hard when so many feelings were going through him. The second his eyes locked with yours was his breaking point. His shaking hands gripped the flowers he’d bought for you tightly as the tears finally freed themselves and ran down his face. You knew that you didn’t look much better, tripping over your own feet until you reached him. As soon as you threw your arms around his neck, Yoosung wrapped his around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. You could feel your shoulder getting wet from his tears, but couldn’t bring yourself to care. “I love you.” These were the first words he managed to say. You pulled away slightly just so that you could see him properly. His cheeks were red, wet from his silent crying; however, he had a bright smile adorning his face. His eyes were examining your face, as if he was trying to memorize exactly how you looked like at that moment. “I love you.” he said it softly, leaning his forehead on yours. “I love you so much.” You nodded your head, sighing in contentment as you closed your eyes. “I love you too.”
MASTERLIST
122 notes - Posted February 7, 2022
#2
The Night Before | Kim Yoosung
Yoosung wakes up the morning after his first time with his significant other.
Pairing(s): Kim Yoosung/gn!reader Word Count: 0.4k Genre: fluff Warnings: There are mentions of sexual activity, but nothing too explicit. Also, haven’t written anything in a year, so beware.
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Yoosung’s eyes hurt. That was the first thing he felt waking up that morning. It took him a few seconds to figure out what was causing his discomfort as he slowly forced his eyes open. The blinds above his head were almost fully close, but there was still a small gap through which the sun was shining directly into his eyes.
The boy grunted. He must not have closed them thoroughly the night before. No one could blame him, though. It wasn’t like he’d cared too much about it when he got to his room with (Y/N).
He wasn’t thinking about the blinds when they sat on his bed, lips moving against each other’s, his shaking hands eager to explore their body. And (Y/N) surely didn’t seem to mind it either as their lips left marks on his neck, their equally shaking hands making sure to make a mess of Yoosung’s hair.
Both nervous for sure, but ready.
Ready to give themselves to each other.
Utterly and completely, body and soul.
A breath on his neck brought him back to the moment. A smile spread across his face, his gaze moving to the body next to his. It was impossible to ignore the way they’d fallen asleep - both turned to each other, (Y/N)’s arms wrapped around his waist, their face hiding on his neck.
Yoosung’s face heat up at the feeling of their entire body pressed against him. Just a reminder that they were together the night before. He hadn’t shied away from their touches then and he surely wasn’t going to do that now. He tightened his grip on their back, bringing them even closer to him.
He loved this.
The words (Y/N) had muttered to him before they fell asleep on his arms rang on his mind.
I feel so safe with you.
Oh, he did too, and he was happy they felt that way.
After everything that had happened in his life, he yearned to have someone he could trust, someone that would care for him. He wanted someone that would find that in him too, a safe place. Lying in his bed in the early morning, after the events of the night before, he was sure that he’d found his person.
Yoosung closed his eyes again, not wanting this moment to end. Even though the sun was still shining into the room and onto his face, he allowed himself to relax. His heart warmed at the realization.
He loved them.
Utterly and completely, body and soul.
MASTERLIST
123 notes - Posted February 3, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
The World Around Us Disappears | Jake
Jake had thought about how their first meeting would go before, but nothing sounded as sweet as the scenario MC once shared with him.
Pairing(s): Jake/fem!reader Word Count: 0.5k Genre: fluff with a tiny bit of angst
A/N: Heavily based on this post right here.
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He wasn't sure where they were.
Was it Duskwood? The Chinese restaurant? Or maybe the motel across the street from it? Well, it didn't really matter to him. The only thing Jake knew was that they were there, close to each other.
He’d thought about this moment before, how it would be when they were together at last. It was everything he had imagined, but at the same time nothing like it. Jake could feel his heart beating out of rhythm in his chest. He’d never been this careless, this reckless, to bring someone into his life – but there he was, taking (Y/N) into his arms.
And it was such a relief to feel her skin against his, a gentle reminder that she was real. He knew it was dangerous to be around him, but he wanted to believe that he’d be capable of protecting her if it came to it.
Protecting her from his pursuers, from the Man Without a Face, from anything that could do her harm.
Her hands were firm on his shoulders, as if they were the only thing keeping her steady. She was right, no words were needed. Jake could see the mix of emotions going through her eyes, even though he couldn't name them all. What he knew was that they were pretty similar to what he was feeling.
Joy and hope.
Serenity.
These were the ones he could tell that were there.
But there was something else.
Something stronger, more intense; but that at the same time brought softness to their eyes.
Could he call it-
Love?
Only four letters to describe such a confusing and unmeasurable feeling, but it felt so right. Was it possible to come to a conclusion like that without saying a word? It seemed like it was, at least for them. No words, their eyes speaking plenty already.
And then, as a one last action to confirm what they already knew, Jake leaned in. Slowly, giving her time to move away if that was what she wished to do. He was content to see that she didn't and, quite the opposite of that, moved her hands to his face in an attempt to bring him closer.
The feeling of her lips colliding against his was the only thing that grounded him in that moment. As her hands started stroking his cheeks softly, Jake couldn't even make sense of his thoughts anymore. It absolutely terrified him as it wasn't something he was used to.
Only one word kept repeating on his mind.
Finally, finally, finally.
They were finally together and it was like the whole world disappeared around them.
When Jake opened his eyes again, he couldn't help but sigh in disappointment as he found himself back at the motel, in front of his computer, alone. He damned himself for allowing his thoughts to get so far away. (Y/N) and her friends were still in danger and Hannah was missing. He couldn't afford getting distracted right now.
Jake ran his hand over his face, trying to regain his focus. Admittedly, that had become his favorite scenario since (Y/N) brought it up to him, and sometimes, when exhaustion took over, he'd find himself getting lost in it.
It was just that it was really a very nice thought.
And he wanted nothing more than to make it a reality.
MASTERLIST
290 notes - Posted February 5, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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kwhaneul · 2 years
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ooc: just finished replying to all dms ♡ ₊˚୨୧
if i haven’t replied, lmk! i’m fairly positive that i replied to everything.
to hopefully aid with plotting, here are a couple plot ideas that i’ve thought of these past few days. please check under the cut for everything. some of these can be combined or slightly altered.
NOTE: these are all on my plot page & are updated with which are taken. please check the plot page instead.
⇾ ʚ Romance
let's not fall in love: (1st) ex-girlfriend plot, any year/female | dated in 2015 during haneul's first year at hanyang; successfully surpassed the initially slightly awkward stage but developed into more of a no-talk-only-physical type of relationship; ultimately ended after 1 year due to toxic obsession and jealousy (can be either partner).
ending scene: (2nd) ex plot, any year/gender | occurred half a year after his previous break-up (late 2016); haneul entered this relationship cautiously and genuinely loved this person; however, he was dumped a few months later (early 2017) for being too busy and negligent -- the ex could not envision a future together with haneul being so busy.
runnin' back: hookup plot, any year/gender | occurred mid to late 2017. you're a rebound, and you know it. while he's just as addicted as you are, he has no strings attached.
you & jennifer: cheating plot, any year/gender | after 2017, he promised himself to wait until after graduation to start another relationship; yet you come along, and he's smitten -- until he discovers that you're cheating on him. you're blocked and ghosted on every platform with no opportunity to explain.
stockholm syndrome: present day situationship, any year/female | it's his first year of graduate school, and he's determined to improve his mental health and return to his original standard of academic prowess. he tells himself that there's no time for romance this year, but he falls for your pursuits (you pursue him first) -- only to be lured into a toxic relationship that he cannot seem to stop.
last dance: unrequited relationship, any year/gender | perhaps its his small demonstrations of care or the uncontested attention he is willing to spare when you're speaking, but you've fallen for him. unfortunately, you are unaware that he is already involved in a toxic situationship.
⇾ ʚ Hospital
savior: medic haneul plot, any year/gender | you find yourself in hanyang hospital's emergency room after an accident, when haneul happens to be working. although he's not yet qualified to treat you, there are no other doctors around, and your initial wound appears to be much more severe than expected.
dear society: hospital plot, any year/gender | no one at school knows that you're at the hospital until haneul walks straight into your room.
dissociation: mental health plot, any year/gender | you're in the hospital for reasons that are related to your mental health & for some reason, haneul is in charge of watching over you.
wind flower: covid plot, any year/gender | you're in the hospital because you have covid, and haneul is in charge of delivering schoolwork, delivery (food/packages), and everything else to your room.
hospital playlist: fellow hospital employees plot, any year/gender (must work at hanyang hospital) | friends to rant to about patients and doctors; share meals and rides home.
⇾ ʚ Family
so am i: younger sister plot, '99-'01/female | haneul's younger sister; had her own share of problems with their parents and wants to do anything but medicine in the future; unlike haneul, she is chaotic, trendsetting, and daring -- but like haneul, she upholds strong morals and is always willing to lend anyone, even her enemies, a helping hand.
taste: older cousin plot, older year/male | pretty much brothers; close and often spent days in their childhood studying at each others' houses and sharing advice.
for life: younger cousin plot, younger year/female | he's the protective older brother you never had, and you're ... the second younger sister; very much of a one-way teasing dynamic (where you're the one teasing him), and he is a good wingman!
my way: mutual doctor parents plot, any year/gender | your parents are doctors too (or just 1 parent is), which is how you know each other. bonus: you don't want to do anything related to medicine and are quite the rebel child while he is a mommy's boy and diligently studies medicine.
spring day: hospital patient plot, any year/gender | you were treated by his parents at hanyang hospital and make an effort to show them your gratitude by asking haneul to pass on gifts (which he cannot accept).
⇾ ʚ Slice of Life
comedy: theatre plot, any year/gender | you're majoring in theatre/cinema/film and are working on a last minute self-directed project. you ask haneul to play a role in your film or ask him to be your muse. although you are relieved to see him animatedly accept your offer, you quickly realize that his acting is terrible.
heat waves: yangwibi plot, any year/gender (must live in yangwibi) | your shower is clogged, so you ask if you could use his.
your dog loves you: pet sitting plot, any year/gender | you ask him to take care of your pet, which he does -- but he asks you to provide very detailed instructions on how to take care of it.
die a little bit: yangwibi plot #2, any year/gender | having lost your key, you are locked out of your apartment. you're welcome to stay at his place until the front guard comes.
maestro: high school classmates plot, any year/gender (as long as high school '11-'15 overlaps) | although never close in high school, you were both aware of each others' existence. times have changed since then, and you're both surprised with how you each turned out.
feel free to shoot me a message if you'd like to take any! my discord is wendy ᵕ̈ ೫˚#37
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ase-trollplays · 3 years
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WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS WEEK FUCK'S SAKE
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