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itsapapisongo · 3 years

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DON'T LET IT PASS | N. JAEMIN

Cast: Jaemin x Female!Protagonist ft. Taeil, Johnny, Yuta, and Jeno

Genre: Angst | Dramedy

Word Count: 4.7K

Word/Object: Bouncy Ball (tennis-sized ball)

Warnings: Allusions and brief mentions of suicide and strong language throughout.

Summary: Admitted to an underfunded psychiatric clinic, Na Jaemin feels stuck and the “nice” girl that always says hi and waves at him isn't helping.

Collab: “A Vibe”

“I WONDER IF you get your kicks off of being problematic,” said Jeno, his wet black hair practically covering his brow and eyes like a thick curtain. “And, to be honest, it wouldn’t surprise me if you did.”

Jaemin, who was laying in bed and reading a porno mag he’d managed to sneak into the clinic, shrugged. He didn’t have to look at his bunkmate to know that Jeno (1) had taken a shower and (2) was staring right at him. He had heard him talking with one of the orderlies, their conversation frustratingly cheery for two people stuck in a nuthouse.

He chuckled. Remembering that if Jeno—or anyone else, for that matter—heard him refer to the clinic as a nuthouse, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. It wasn’t positive language, they’d told him. Jaemin would find it funny if it weren’t so ridiculously depressing. People were sensitive like that. People lied to themselves like that.

Call it a psychiatric clinic, a hospital, a mental ward, or what have you but the truth was that every single person that had been admitted to this damn place was off their nut.

But, hey, people kept themselves sane in strange ways. Calling things by other names seemed to make them forget—no, repress—their reality of their lives.

Whatever floats your boats, Jaemin often thought.

“I think I’ll just keep you wondering,” Jaemin replied, smirking. He passed a page and whistled. “Nice b—”

“Could you not?” Jeno cringed as he dried his hair. “I've had my share of horniness today.”

That made Jaemin look up and ignore the porno mag for a second. He slightly lifted his head, that wicked smirk of his plastered on his face, and wiggled his eyebrows. Jeno, who was too focused on hanging on his towel by the window, missed this. He got to see again when he turned and was met by Jaemin sitting on the edge of his bed, magazine flat on his lap as he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Fair share, you’d say?”

“Yeah, fair share . . .” Jeno trailed off, raising an eyebrow. He felt the spotlight on him and it was a burning and shameful sensation. “What are—what are you on about?”

“Oh, nothing.” Jaeming shrugged one shoulder, winking. “Only that sharing is caring, you sly fox.”

Jeno scoffed as he sat on his bed, opposite Jaemin’s. For a second, he remained unfazed until he sniggered. His eyes became nonexistent, a wide smile reaching them and touching them with a glint of embarrassed amusement. Jeno seemed to open his mouth to share but instead shook his head and turned away.

Above his bed, a collection of manga and manhwas was alphabetically organized and stacked on a wall bookshelf he’d put himself. Jeno was very proud and possessive of all of his volumes. They were one of the few things that offered comfort and enjoyment in this rather dull and isolating place. Jaemin never touched them and was more than okay with admiring them from afar. Not because he wasn’t interested but because he knew how much they meant to Jeno.

“So, puppy boy, who was horny today?” Jaemin asked, intently watching as Jeno reached for a manga volume he’d read over four times this month alone. “Come on. Don’t be a tease.”

“No one,” Jeno replied sheepishly. He laid on his bed, opened the manga, and stared at it.

“C’mon! You said you had your fair share of—” Jaemin paused, searching for the right word. It fell on the tip of his lips and his smirk reached his eyes. They had a distinctive glint of mischief as he added, “—arousal.”

Jeno blinked, uncomfortable. “Well that—that slipped out.”

“How very freudian of you.”

Jeno said nothing, pretended to read. Jaemin swore he saw the hint of a smile on his face, but he relented from asking him again. He wasn’t going to push him any further. Not tonight, anyhow.

With a huff and a chuckle, Jaemin hid the porno mag underneath his mattress, laid back on his bed, and decided to call it a night. He could annoy the ever living shit out of Jeno—and everyone else—in the morning.

THE NEXT MORNING, as he entered the cafeteria, Jaemin saw her before she saw him.

She was finishing her cereal as she talked with a guy. He was older than both of Jaemin and her, had pink hair, and was kinda loud. She was laughing at something he said and Jaemin felt an urge to ask her what the fuck was so funny and punch him right in the gut. He’d ask him the same question, but he really hated repeating himself.

“There she is,” Jaemin grumbled, barely parting his lips. “Miss Waves-A-Lot.”

Jeno, who was skimming through the fifth volume in the manga series he’d recently started reading, looked up and immediately squealed when he felt Jaemin pinching his forearm. It hurt so much he almost dropped the manga and cussed out loud.

“What was that for?” Jeno asked, gently rubbing his forearm. He gave the rec room a quick glance and saw who Jaemin was aggressively staring at. “What happens when she catches you looking at her like a psycho?”

“She’s not gonna catch me.”

She wouldn’t. She was too focused on Pink Hair to pay Jaemin any attention. Or so he thought.

Just as Jaemin blinked and thought about looking away, she met his gaze and they made eye contact. That’s when Jaemin noticed something. Though her hair was short and dyed blue, she had turquoise highlights he had previously missed.

“Fuck!” Jaemin gritted his teeth.

“Could you be more obvious?” Jeno rolled his eyes. “The least you can do is pretend you’re not looking.”

“Looking?” Jaemin scoffed. She was looking at him. He was looking at her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Jeno scoffed. “Way to play dumb.”

“Did you just call me—”

“Good morning!”

“JESUS!” Jaemin screamed in a high-pitched voice. He punched the air—twice and upward—when he noticed who had startled him. “You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack!”

“Morning,” Jeno greeted her with a warm smile. “Sorry about my—” he paused, looking for the right word. “—roomie. He can be very loud.”

“That’s okay,” she replied, smiling. “Just wanted to say hi.”

Jaemin scoffed, grumbling, “You could have just waved.”

That made Jeno and her turn to Jaemin. One had an eyebrow raised, the other looked surprised. While Jeno shook his head and mouthed “what the fuck is wrong with you”, she simply shrugged and said she felt it was better if she actually introduced herself for a change. Jaemin felt something akin to butterflies in his stomach. Whether he was hungry or genuinely feeling something due to how she was looking at him, he couldn’t tell.

“I see you guys often, but I hadn’t gathered the courage to say hi face to face.”

“We’re idiots.” Jeno pointed to himself, but relented from pointing at Jaemin. “We’re alright. We don’t bite.”

Jaemin scoffed. “Speak for yourself, puppy boy.” He looked at her, smirking. “I bite.”

“Not hard, I imagine,” she retorted, her tone casual and affable. “You look like the type of guy that’s all bark and no bite.”

“All bark and no—yah—when were you born?” He pointed a firm finger at her, pushed it against her shoulder.

She looked at him, glanced at the finger, and removed it with such calm that Jaemin felt his blood boil. Jeno seemed to have realized Jaemin was close to doing something incredibly and stupidly impulsive because he tried to drag his roommate back to no avail. Jeno glanced over his shoulder, backed off, and disappeared from view. They barely registered that it was not the two of them.

“1998,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

“Bullshit.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“To fuck with me.”

“Really?” She smiled. It was both beautiful and irritating. “Just you?”

Jaemin tilted his head to the side, pushed his tongue against his cheek.

“When were you born?” he asked again.

“I already told you.” She reached out and took his hand, shaking it. “Name’s Ryu. Born June 30th, 1998.” She let go of his hand and winked. “Let’s treat each other well, okay?”

“Bull—”

“Jaemin, Ryu,” said a familiar voice. “Is everything okay here?”

Ryu smiled a small smile and bowed. “Everything’s okay, Yuta-san.”

Jaemin didn’t have to turn to see Yuta nor did he have to guess who had brought him. He nodded and, without turning, said, “Yeah. Everything is okay, Yuta-san.”

Yuta stood between Jaemin and Ryu, smiling that friendly smile of his. Jaemin didn’t meet his gaze but he could tell his hyung was looking intently at him and that he no doubt had that disappointed glint in his eye.

“Drop the honorifics,” said Yuta, beaming at Ryu. “It’s too early for that.”

“If you say so.” Ryu shrugged one shoulder, slightly bowed, and turned to Jaemin. “See you when I see you, lanky.”

Lanky? Did she just—you cheeky shit, Jaemin thought. He feigned a smile and a chuckle, waving her off when she left. It took him a second to realize that it was now just him and Yuta. Great.

“You’re looking a little worked up there, Nana.” Yuta gently clapped him in the shoulder.

“I’m okay.”

Yuta shrugged. “If you say so,” he said, half-smiling. “You do know that it’s too early to get this worked up, right?”

Jaemin bit his tongue but before he could nod and come up with some lame answer, he heard himself say: “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.”

Yuta raised an eyebrow then smiled fully, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He clapped Jaemin in the shoulder then nodded towards the cafeteria’s small line.

“Try your best to be kind,” Yuta advised in a gentle voice. His gaze was stern but not unkind. “Try your best to not be—”

“An asshole?”

Yuta’s eyes widened for a second. There wasn’t anger or disappointment or pity in them but heartache.

“You see yourself as an asshole?”

“Everyone else does. Why should I see myself any differently?”

Before Yuta could reply, Jaemin bowed and said he’d rather get in line before the banana milk he liked was gone.

HE SAW HER again in the rec room.

Ryu was playing dominoes with Pink Hair when he sat down with Jeno and pretended to be entertained by a bouncy ball—about the size of a tennis ball—he’d nicked off someone.

(Jaemin couldn’t remember who it was. He just knew he managed to get his hands on it and that was all that mattered.)

Whether Ryu was too focused on her game with Pink Hair to notice him or she was genuinely ignoring him, Jaemin couldn’t tell. After a while, he stopped caring. And with good reason—he fell asleep on the couch.

After what felt like hours, but had only been about twenty minutes, he woke up and noticed someone had left a note. They had stuffed it on the waistband of his sweatpants. He opened it and scoffed.

The note read:

you never told me when you were born

Jaemin thought about crushing it into a ball, tossing it aside, ripping it apart. He didn’t.

He gently closed it and stuffed it in his pocket.

RYU HAD BEEN admitted about three months prior.

Jaemin had seen her once or twice, but had never paid attention to her. And, sure, she was pretty and he had noticed, but he was more concerned with more important stuff. Like, say, getting away with sneaking porno mags and cigarettes and bouncy balls into the clinic. Granted, the smuggling wasn’t his job, but he helped to enable it.

So when she started saying hi and waving at him, he felt like she was onto something. She was too friendly, too enthusiastic, for Jaemin’s taste. He preferred it when people ignored him or gave him shit. At least that way he could play dumb or trade patter with them, hurling insults that would definitely shatter someone’s self-esteem and were occasionally played off as good fun.

The more she waved, the more she said hi, the more Jaemin grew irritated by her. He did his best to avoid her but about a week ago they were placed in the same therapy session. Ryu often sat two or three seats to his right and Jaemin could feel her staring.

For an entire week, he ignored her—her stares, her soft but enthusiastic greetings, her incessant waving—and felt he was doing a fine job of it until this morning.

What the fuck does she want?

That’s all he could think about as he aimlessly wandered around the clinic. He walked past the lobby, the cafeteria, and one of the outdoorsy areas—the one everyone referred to as the wee park—but found himself without a glimpse of Ryu.

After half an hour, Jaemin decided to call it a day and renew his nap.

Not in the rec room, though. That place reeked of neglect.

JAEMIN HAD BEEN admitted about two weeks prior to Ryu’s admission.

To no one’s surprise, he had issues. Which was a condescending way of saying he wasn’t in the best headspace. Ryu had asked around about why he’d been admitted but no one really had an answer. Every time someone asked him, Jaemin would answer differently and contradict himself. It seemed funny to him.

It wasn’t. On the contrary, it was genuinely frustrating because the staff couldn’t help him take the necessary steps to achieve some kind of positive progress. Ryu wanted to understand why he was such a pain in the ass and had tried time and time again to catch his attention. He ignored her—rudely, blatantly, every chance he got—and that only made it more intriguing for her.

“He’s handsome but he sure is mean,” mumbled Hendery, playing with his pink hair as he chewed on the biggest wad of chewing gum Ryu had ever seen. “He cussed at me just for looking at him.”

“Na Jaemin’s a sweetheart,” said Yuta one day as they—him and Ryu—cleaned the rec room. “But he has a mean streak.”

“Heard that before,” Ryu replied, nodding.

Yuta shrugged. “Dr. Choi mentioned it’s a coping mechanism.”

And maybe it was. Maybe he was just an asshole. Whatever the reason, whatever the motivation, Ryu gathered he wasn’t the easiest guy to be around. And yet . . . she felt some type of camaraderie with him. They no doubt came from different places, had lived different experiences, but she related to this impulse to put up a wall, a preemptive measure against anything that could hurt you.

Na Jaemin was no different.

Difference was that while he put on this snarky and confident façade, Ryu wore her emotions on her sleeve and kept her head held high even when she felt like crumbling. Being vulnerable didn’t equate to weakness in her mind. Vulnerability was acknowledging that every once in a while she might need a word of advice or a hug or simply someone beside her, sharing the silence when words failed.

Jaemin seemed to reject that idea. Ryu knew not because she had seen it but because she had sensed it. That and she had lived it. Once upon a time, she put a wall so high and thick that it took a lonely walk in the middle of the night and a stop by a bridge to make her reconsider her life and they way she was living it.

Whenever she remembered that night, Ryu remembered how cold it was. She remembered how angry, sad, and lonely she felt. There were days she wished she didn’t remember that cold night in Busan. And then there were days when she looked back and felt genuine relief that she had decided to step away from the ledge.

“The road to recovery is a long one,” Dr. Choi had told her, smiling softly. She was a woman in her thirties with a motherly aura. “Some days you’ll walk with your head held high. Others, you’ll stumble. And you know what? That’s okay.”

Ryu took these words to heart. She embraced them, keeping them in a little corner near her heart so that whenever she felt close to the edge, she was reminded she wasn’t alone and that she was capable of healing.

JAEMIN FOUND HER in the studio.

It obviously wasn’t really a studio, but it sort of functioned as one. Here, there were several instruments and the space to play them freely. The whole point of it was to release stress, learn something new, or otherwise just play for the sake of playing.

He was walking past the studio when he caught her silhouette through his periphery. Ryu was sitting on a small stool, plucking the shit out of a gayageum’s strings that had no place being there. The plucked zither was old but had been taken care of and Jaemin couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Ryu wasn’t playing alone. She was jamming with—was that Yuta? Holy shit. It was. He sat behind a drum kit, jamming, eyes closed, a goofy smile spread across his face. Standing opposite Ryu was a tall, broad-shouldered guy with long brown hair tied in a man-bun; he was playing bass. They were caught up in the moment and unaware that they had an audience—inside and outside the studio—as they grooved to the funky groove of Dr. John’s Right Place, Wrong Time.

Jaemin smiled in sheer disbelief, unconsciously tapping his foot to the song’s beat. He realized that Ryu and Yuta were singing the chorus whereas the bassist was singing the song, putting on a gruff voice that didn’t match his appearance.

“Good shit, huh?”

“Oh, fuck off—” Jaemin gritted teeth, slowly turning to meet Moon Taeil, and immediately felt his face drop. Nervously, he cleared his throat. “Taeil-ssi.”

Taeil was looking forward, smirking. “Do you play?”

“That’s a very vague question.”

“Music.”

“What about it?”

Taeil sighed, a mixture of exasperation and amusement. He looked at Jaemin and tilted his head to the side, showing a smile that reached his eyes. He wasn’t mad or annoyed or disappointed; he was just looking at Jaemin with endearment in his gaze.

“You’re being deliberately dense, aren’t you?” he asked, calmly.

“No—” Jaemin blinked, then deflated. “Yeah.”

Taeil chuckled with a small nod. “So . . . do you play?”

“Piano,” he replied, “but I haven’t played in forever . . .”

“Shame. I heard you were a pretty good player.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, feeling a glare coming up. “Did my mother put you up to this?” he asked, doing his very best to sound even-tempered.

“What if she did?” Taeil shrugged.

“Yeah? Well, she’s the reason I no longer play the fuck—”

Taeil laid a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder, smiling ruefully. “I know,” he said in a low, understanding voice. “But it’s never too late to try again.”

Jaemin groaned, closed his eyes, and threw his head backwards. “Sure,” he grumbled, reluctantly nodding. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good to hear!” Taeil clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t forget. Therapy session at—”

“3:30. Yup. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Taeil gave him a thumbs-up. He knocked on the studio’s wide window, nodded with a smile and a wave, then walked off without another word. All eyes were now on Jaemin—Ryu, Yuta, and Mr. Bass—and he desperately wished for the ground to open up and swallowed him whole. They had stopped playing, which meant the studio and the corridor had fallen silent. He awkwardly waved and cringed when Ryu met his gaze and waved back.

Yuta waved at him, motioning for Jaemin to join them in the studio, but was met with a stiff head shake from the youth. Jaemin opted for pointing at Ryu and motioning for her to meet him outside. She glanced at Yuta and Mr. Bass, shrugged, then joined Jaemin in the corridor.

“Whatcha think?” she asked, smiling.

Jaemin frowned. “About?”

“About us playing?”

“Oh, that. You were gre—okay. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Ryu raised an eyebrow, curious.

“I mean the bassist is pretty damn good.”

Ryu looked at Mr. Bass. “Yeah, Johnny’s a hell of a player,” she agreed. “But what about Yuta-san and I?”

“Yeah, you were good—”

“I smell bullshit, but okay.”

Jaemin blinked at that. She had a mouth on her, didn’t she? Then again, he supposed, so did he. Instead of feeling irritated, he felt at ease; he couldn’t understand why. Ryu knocked on the studio’s window, mouthed that she was taking a break, and pointed at Jaemin.

“What was that about?”

Ryu blinked then shrugged. “Wanna go for a walk?”

“Walk—er—no—” Jaemin began to protest, but was yanked by his forearm away from the studio and into the God knew where. “What are you doing?”

“Dragging you away so that we can have a civil conversation.”

“Civil? I’m being kidnapped!” Jaemin grasped Ryu’s wrist and tried to squeeze it, but instead found himself on the ground, groaning and moaning. “Ouchwhatthefuck?”

Ryu put him on a hold by twisting his wrist and she was glaring daggers at him. It took her a second to realize what she was doing and immediately looked apologetic.

“It was—I didn’t mean to,” she whispered, sheepishly. “It was just—”

Jaemin raised a finger and looked at her intently. “If I come with you, promise me you won’t assault me,” he said, almost pleading.

She nodded, offering her pinkie. “Promise.”

“Okay—fuck—lead the way,” he said, offering his own pinkie to seal the deal.

THUD-A-POMP!

They were throwing the bouncy ball against a wall on the courtyard. They stood about six feet apart to not bump into each other when they moved to catch the ball.

Thud-A-Pomp!

Jaemin threw it. Ryu caught it.

Thud-A-Pomp!

Ryu threw it, glanced at Jaemin, and smiled at him when he caught it.

Thud-A-Pomp!

Jaemin threw it harder than usual, winced, and guffawed, rather impressed, when Ryu caught the ball without looking. To his surprise, she was staring at him.

“Something in your mind, dear?” he asked, smiling smugly.

“Loads of things, really,” said Ryu, throwing and catching the ball without breaking eye contact. “But nothing that I’d bother sharing.”

The smug expression disappeared from his face. He looked more confused than anything; he felt himself slipping and giving into irritation.

“I thought you wanted to have a civil conversation,” he grumbled, hands on his hip.

Ryu sniggered. “Yup.”

Thud-A-Pomp!

“Oh-kay,” Jaemin intoned, rolling his eyes. He caught the ball, gave it the once-over, then—thud-a-pomp!—threw it again. He sighed and cracked his neck, staring at the clear blue sky above them. “I was born in 2000.”

Thud-A-Pomp!

A wide, proud smile spread across Ryu’s face. She tapped her foot and nodded, tongue in cheek.

“So that makes me your noona, huh?”

Jaemin’s annoyance was palpable. “Aish,” he groaned. “I guess so.”

“I’m older,” she said, giddy to the point of dancing, “which means you must be respectful.”

He twirled the ball in mid-air, watched it return to his hand a resting bitch face. “Yeah, yeah, reverence and low bows and all that jazz.”

Ryu chuckled, though it wasn’t an amused sound. It was the sound of someone running empty on sympathy. When he looked at her, he saw that she was running her hand through her hand and pulling on the roots; it looked like a bad habit. She was staring at the ground, a frown disfiguring her beautiful features.

“You okay?”

She shook her head. “Nope,” she replied, calmly.

“Something in your—”

“Why are you here?”

Jaemin blinked, aghast. “Excuse me?”

“Honestly, why are you here? You seem like you’d rather be elsewhere.”

“It’s not like I had a choice!” he retorted, throwing the ball at her instead of bouncing it off the wall. “It’s not like I enjoy being here!”

“Seems like you really dig this place. Doing what you want. Talking to everyone and anyone without a filter.”

“If you got something to say, don’t mince words.” Jaemin crossed his hands. “Sugarcoating is a waste of time.”

Ryu nodded, raising both eyebrows. Her posture displayed that she wasn’t afraid of conflict or calling others out. It reminded Jaemin of Yuta and Taeil. She looked between the ball and the wall then hurled it with all of her might.

“You’re an asshole,” she finally said.

“I’m a—did you just call me an asshole?”

“You heard me right, Jaemin, so stop being coy.”

Jaemin squeezed the ball hard, felt its material giving in but not quite breaking. He looked away and feigned laughter. He wanted to throw the ball as hard as he could and watch it explode against the wall or the ground, but he disasuded himself from the idea when he simply dropped it to the ground. The small thump-thump it made was equal to the low thudding of his heart as he tried to calm himself down.

“Why are you here?” Jaemin threw Ryu’s question back at her.

“Depression,” she replied without a hint of embarrassment. “That and a bungled—” she paused, unsure if to use the word. “—incident.”

“Did you try to—”

She nodded, grimacing. “Yup.”

The question slipped out of his lips before he could reconsider asking it. But his tone wasn’t malicious or mocking; it was instead one of preoccupation and dread.

“How?”

“Leap of faith.” She motioned with someone walking on the edge of something then plunging into the depths below. “Or lack thereof.”

“Fuck,” he mumbled, then looked at her. “Why?”

“Why does anyone do anything really? You’re not in the best headspace when you’re close to . . .” Ryu trailed off with a small shrug. She noticed Jaemin looking at her differently. Not with pity, but with understanding. “My brother left to study abroad. My parents found themselves falling out of love. They divorce and were very open about how much they disliked each other. Things changed. The life I thought was almost perfect sort of—” she closed a fist and slowly opened it, making a sound akin to an explosion. “—imploded. Everything just went down the drain.”

Jaemin heard what she wasn’t saying—the desperation, the loneliness, the fear—and the wall he had worked so hard to put up and keep others away began to crack. The way she was looking at him showed him a person that had descended into rock bottom—not crashed like he had, but instead slowly found themselves in the depths of their own despair—and was finding their way back.

“Now,” she piped up, stirring him from his reverie, “why are you here?”

He shrugged, pouting. “Anger issues . . . depression . . . delusions of grandeur . . . stubbornness,” he replied, nonchalantly. “Take your pick ‘cause I don’t really know.”

She stared, said nothing, then picked the ball from the ground and—thud-a-pomp!—threw it.

“It’s never too late to start again, y’know? To try and better yourself.”

“Heard that before.” He scoffed.

“Don’t let it pass, Jaemin.”

A frown. “Don’t let what pass?”

“Life.”

“Life,” he repeated, as if the concept was foreign to him. “Easy to say, don’t you think?”

“Very fucking easy, yeah,” she admitted with a chuckle. “But nothing in life is easy. Progress requires work and time. Everything starts, y’know, way from within.”

He looked at her, gobsmacked. “You really are wise for your age,” he said, using aegyo. “Noona, teach me your ways.”

“Oh—” she threw the ball at him, “—fuck you!”

His laughter echoed in the courtyard, warming her heart.

Her smile was contagious, reminding him of what happiness was.

IN THE COMING weeks, these are the things that will occur:

Na Jaemin will make an effort to make progress and deal with his anger, and other unresolved but heavy emotional baggage. The wall, which had already cracked, will crumble and he’ll strive to be a better person. Even after leaving the clinic, he’ll visit the few friends he made; the people he promised to support.

Ryu finds that talking about her experience helps her strengthen her resolve. She helps those that have found themselves contemplating suicide; she supports them and secures resources for the clinic through her brother. She and Jaemin maintain contact. It will bloom into something wonderful.

Jeno will donate his manga collection to the clinic. Letting go is one of the things he learns. He and Jaemin become roommates. He’ll be exasperated for the next four years until he ultimately decides to live with his penpal, a Chinese lad with artistic aspirations.

Everything will eventually be well.

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

Futamono

2x06

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, mental health problems, jail, sorta cheating? If not i’m walking a fine line

Author’s Note: This episode! It hit different. In particular there are a few scenes that I am very excited for you to read so reactions are greatly GREATLY appreciated because I love love reading them as they come. I really hope you enjoy! not gonna lie its hard to write something that might hurt will so i might just protect him through and through lol

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar

Official Episode Summary : A city councilman's body is found intertwined with a tree, Jack crashes Hannibal's dinner party to investigate Will's suspicions, and a revelation shocks everyone

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95

(not my gif)

The Baltimore State Hospital was colder than usual. You felt it as you walked down the hallway to where Will was. You felt odd. Like your stomach was in knots and you never had that with Will. He never gave you that feeling.

As you stopped in front of the cell he turned around. He sat down, like he would usually when you were there. He kept note that you did not sit down on your white line, nor did you approach the bars. You weren’t scared of him, he knew you weren’t. But you didn’t look exactly happy with him either.

“Hi,” Will said, breaking a crackling loud silence.

“Hannibal Lecter is alive. In case you were wondering.”

“I was not,” he told you. You let out an annoyed sigh and looked down at the ground. You had thought about how to approach this with Will but every rehearsed conversation felt wrong. This didn't feel exactly right either.

“Will,” you whispered and met his eyes. He stared at you and you stared at him. You shared a few words with your eyes.

“Chilton will have a hard time figuring out this conversation,” he muttered and you cracked a small smile.

“You can’t send a man to kill Hannibal even if you think that he is the Ripper.” He raised a betrayed eyebrow.

“I didn’t send anyone to kill Hannibal. And are you saying he isn’t the Ripper? Did his kiss persuade you that much?”

You imagined Chilton hearing that over the speaker. Probably got popcorn to accompany this conversation for the dramatic guy he was.

“I still think he is.”

“And you have no problem with that?”

“Of course I have the problem with murder,” you breathed. You sat down on the white line finally and he was happy to see you at his eye level again. You stared at each other hard and he knew you knew that he sent someone to kill Hannibal. There was no need to say it. “This isn’t going to help you in the eyes of everyone,” you whispered.

“I’m not scared anymore,” he admitted. You mulled that over for a minute.

“I’m glad. I still don’t condone murder on either side.” Will smirked a bit, laughing.

“Actions speak better than words.”

“Jacks gonna come speak to you about this.”

“I can handle myself.”

“Oh I have no doubt. I’m just giving you a girlfriend worthy heads up so you could plan.”

You walked into Hannibal’s house with the spare key he had given you. You put your bag down quietly as you heard the sound of piano through the air. It calmed you immediately. Your emotional turmoil had been something else.

There was much confusion in your brain but really you were mostly worried about both of the men in your life while also being more worried about your dogs. You had to walk them tonight but you decided to stop by Hannibal’s to see how he was doing.

You walked into the main room and Hannibal continued to play. You listened quietly, leaning against the wall. Eventually he stopped to put something else in his composition. You walked up to him and put your hands on his sweater clad shoulders. He smiled, not having to turn around to know it was you.

“That was beautiful,” you whispered. You wrapped your arms around his neck from behind and looked over the composition like you understood it.

“It’s proving to be more difficult than I was hoping,” he said honestly. He grabbed your hand and pulled you down to sit beside him. You did so.

“How are you feeling?” you asked quietly. He shrugged, writing in another note before turning to you.

“I feel as though that noose were still around my neck. It’s strange to have nightmares. Never used to,” he whispered. You nodded solemnly. You understood that better than most.

“You’re always welcome to call the house if you need something,” you said quietly and honestly. Your nightmares hadn’t gotten much better but you were trying to pull through at the house by yourself. Still, knowing Hannibal was there had made you feel better.

“Thank you,” he whispered back to you. You looked at the piano and then back at Hannibal. He stared at you. “I can no longer work with Jack. Or Will.” You were surprised to hear that. Then again, you should have expected it. Almost dying can do that to a person.

“What does that mean?” you whispered.

“I won’t be consulting on any cases with Jack. You’re welcome to continue to work for me and be my…” he paused, “friend but I can no longer assume that I can help Will. I can’t trust him. He’s in a dark place where the shadows move. It’s not safe to stand with him anymore.”

You looked away from Hannibal and at the wall in front of you as you processed what you were being told.

“I hope you understand that I care about you Hannibal,” you whispered, turning to him. “But I will continue to see Will.” He nodded.

“I understand.” You weren’t sure where you stood with him then.

“Play it again,” you told him, voice barely audible.

He put his hands on the keys and you imagined those hands taking a life.

It wasn’t much of a stretch.

Alana walked beside you as you walked the dogs. It was nice to be around them. It was almost like Will was with you at the same time. You were walking through the barren land around the house and she accompanied you upon your request.

“My head is full of conspiracies. There are too many versions of events. He said. She said. He said. He said. She said. It’s maddening,” Alana told you, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets. “The one thing I have clarity on is, Will tried to kill Hannibal.”

You glanced at her.

“He believes that’s the only way to catch the Ripper.”

“And you think the same thing? I notice how you’ve gotten closer with Hannibal.” You shrugged, still sore from the last conversation you had with the man.

“Jealous?” you teased.

“You’re avoiding the question,” she whispered. “And no.”

“I think that Hannibal is more capable of senseless murder than Will. They’re both capable of murder. Will has never lied to me.” You paused. “He only lies to me when he knows I can see through him.” You turned to Alana and stopped walking. She stared back at you. “And you? Where do you stand?”

“I haven’t given up on Will. Just re-evaluating who I think he’s become.” You glanced at her.

“Will has always been this way. He just didn’t like to show it.”

“I feel like I’ve been watching our friendship on a split screen. The friendship I perceived on one side and the truth on the other,” Hannibal said. Will sat in his cage and stared at his former therapist. They stared at each other with a sense of competitiveness and a mix of entertainment.

“It’s a terrible feeling isn’t it?” Will asked, numbly but with a stab at Hannibal.

“You’ve been lying to me, Will.”

“I don’t have a gauge for reality that works well enough to know if I’ve been lying or not,” Will said simply. Hannibal had a sense Will had him right where he wanted him. It was impressive.

“You understand the reality of Beverly Katz’s death. You understand your role in that.”

“What was my role?”

“Beverly died at your behest. You’re as angry with yourself as you are with whoever murdered her.” Will didn’t show much emotion but spite.

“Actually, I’m not. I’m singularly angry at whoever murdered her.”

“You tried to kill me, Will. It’s hard not to take that personally. However, if I were Beverly’s murderer, I’d applaud your effort,” Hannibal said. They shared a look.

“I’m no more guilty of what you’ve accused me of than you are of what I have accused you of,” he stated simply.

“Jack Crawford, Alana Bloom and Y/N Y/L/N believe you are responsible,” Hannibal stated.

“Or Y/N Graham as the people say,” Will said simply. Hannibal fought his amusing anger. “And where does responsibility begin and end, Dr. Lecter? With a final act or the events that led to it?” Will asked.

“I don’t expect you to feel self-loathing or regret or shame. You knew what you were doing and you made your own decisions. Decisions that were under your control.” Will scoffed.

“You think I’m in control?” Will asked. “Where does Y/N stand with you Dr. Lecter?” Will stared hard. “Are you still actively pursuing her? Are you pursuing me? Or perhaps the fact that she’s still dating the man who allegedly tried to have you murdered is putting a dent in your plans.” Hannibal put his hand on his arm, holding it. The two men stared at each other, not as men competing for a woman's love but as men who were toying with the idea that there was a connection they weren’t going to sever. Hannibal hoped to cut that link despite the fact he knew it wouldn’t work.

“We were friends before I met you and I imagine we’ll be friends after we part ways.” Will smiled in arrogance of the knowledge you would likely do anything for him.

“Well I’ll be curious to see how that works out for you. She’ll tell me at her weekly visits.” Hannibal raised his chin and hardened his look.

“Good-bye Will.”

Will was not amused.

As Hannibal walked to his car he opened his phone. He dialed the top number on his phone.

“Hello,” you said, sounding distracted. “Sorry, feeding the dogs.”

“I’m throwing a dinner party tonight. You’re attending I hope.” You hummed a yes.

“Of course.” Hannibal smiled.

“I’m glad.”

Hannibal put his hand on your hair and fixed a piece that was out of place. You both held champagne glasses in your hands and were talking to some of his colleagues. You had been complimented on your look seven times already, twice by Hannibal.

You had yet to touch the food. You believed Will there.

Jack and Chilton spoke, watching the two of you chat.

“Prosciutto roses. Heart tartare. Beed roulade. Needless to say, I won’t be eating the food,” Chilton said.

“Dr. Chilton,” Jack chastised.

“Hannibal the Cannibal That’s what they’ll call him you know. And look at Mrs. Graham. Curiously enough I have no idea what her angle is.” Jack nodded.

“She’s always been a bit confusing.”

You laughed at something a guest was saying as Hannibal laughed about it. You were barely listening.

“I didn’t know you had a lady friend Hannibal. Are you Mrs. Lecter?” one of the ladies said. You paused which made Hannibal laugh. You hadn’t been prepared for that.

“No, I’m...we aren’t together,” you said simply although your voice didn’t sound very convincing. Jack grabbed your arm and you turned to him, surprised. “Please excuse me.”

He pulled you aside.

“Have you eaten something?” he asked. You shook your head.

“Amazing you think I don’t listen to my own boyfriend.” You stared at Chilton and shook your head. “No, I have not.”

“I’m...I can’t believe I’m telling you this... I’m listening to Will,” he said. Your mouth flew open.

“Wait a second, you can listen? You can listen to people?” you asked sarcastically. Jack gave you a look.

“I’m telling you, just in case.” You nodded and Hannibal walked over.

“Jack, I’m happy you’re here. In many ways, you are the guest of honor. You saved my life, after all,” Hannibal said, putting his hand on the small of your back. You didn’t move it. Jack made note.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay. But I’d like to take some food to go.”

You stared at him and he stared back.

Maybe Jack did listen after all.

You sat at the piano by yourself after the dinner party. You put your fingers on the keys and started to play the only thing you knew by heart.

Chopsticks.

Hannibal walked over and sat beside you.

“The ending to my composition has been alluding me. You may have solved my problem with Chopsticks,” he said laughing. He put his fingers on the keys and played a background to the simple tune you carried.

“If only all our problems could be solved with a simple waltz,” you said honestly. Hannibal didn’t look at you.

“I’ve walked away from Will, but I’m still trailing his accusations that you believe,” he told you.

“Alana has also walked away. You’ve both continued to make eventual fools of yourself,” you said simply, pushing a key down loudly before meeting Hannibal’s eyes.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I believe him. You know that.” Hannibal turned to you and you stared at him. Silence ensued the Lecter household. You broke the quiet.

“Would you like to stay the night?” he asked.

“Hannibal Lecter, I’m not that kind of girl,” you said laughing a bit. “But yes. I would.” You turned to him quietly and stood up, holding your hand to him. He took it and the two of you walked to his bedroom where you tossed a shirt from his dresser at him while taking one for yourself. You got dressed facing away from each other and then got into bed.

You stared at each other, hair pressed against the pillows.

“Goodnight Hannibal,” you whispered.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You nuzzled your head into the pillow and he leaned forward. He kissed you and this time you let him. You brought your hand to his cheek and he leaned over you. His hands caressed your hair.

You pulled away after a moment.

“I’m not that kind of girl,” you whispered back at him again. His lips were still practically touching yours as he spoke.

“I know you aren’t.”

He leaned back into his side of the bed.

“If Alana Bloom had stayed behind, this would be a different story.” Your mouth dropped open and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wow, I’m sorry should I call her?” you asked, laughing. He shook his head.

“I prefer you. You help with nightmares.”

“It’s my magic power.”

Both of you thought about Will.

You moved forward and Hannibal wrapped an arm around your shoulder, your head on his chest. You both fell asleep to even breathing and a peaceful room.

You woke up, your head nuzzled into a pillow. You opened your eyes slowly and met the face of Hannibal Lecter. You had expected to see Will. Despite that disappointment you smiled at the fact that for the first time since the murder, you had a dreamless sleep.

“Peaceful sleep?” you asked. Hannibal opened his eyes, stopping from pretending to sleep.

“Yes. You?”

“No nightmares. Not even a dream,” you said dreamily. “Perhaps you have a superpower too.” The bell rang and you both looked up startled.

“The last person who rang my doorbell this early was you,” he admitted. “And it clearly isn’t you.”

He slid out of bed and put on a robe before walking to the front door. You walked to the bathroom, finding one of the old robes in there. You walked down the hallway, the sound of Hannibal's voice echoing.

“Here. All night,” Hannibal said. You rubbed your eyes.

“Anyone beside you can verify that?” You walked in without thinking, not even registering the voice as Jacks until it was too late.

“She can,” Hannibal said simply. His face flashed surprise but he tamped it quickly.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” you said but Jack shook his head.

“All I need to know is if you were here all night.” You glanced between the two and nodded simply.

“He was here all night. We both were.” You glanced at Hannibal. “I’m gonna go,” you said quietly and he nodded solemnly. You turned around but you felt four eyes on you and you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

You walked into your home. It still smelled like Will. Maybe Will smelled like the house. You couldn’t quite distinguish it. The dogs pooled around your feet and you pet them, glad you were back early enough to where their food schedule wouldn’t be off at all.

You fed each of them and they walked around the bowls together.

You walked to the made bed and felt guilt rise in your chest. It didn’t feel like you had cheated on Will. He knew Hannibal was pursuing you. You knew Hannibal was almost in a backwards way pursuing Will.

But still as you sat on the bed you grabbed Will’s blanket you got him for Christmas and held it to your chest. He would be back. He would sleep beside you again.

Even if you were mad at him you loved him to pieces.

You imagined you always would.

You wanted to go see him. You got up to do so when the phone rang. You picked it up on the second ring after noticing it was Jack.

“Hello?” You were nervous he was gonna bring up the morning you had had.

“I got the results of a murder that happened a few days ago. And Will didn’t kill any of the people we thought he did.” You wanted to make a sarcastic quip because duh but you just sat back down on the bed. It felt so nice to hear Jack say what you knew in your heart. You grabbed Will’s blanket with your hand without looking at it.

“Yeah?” you whispered.

He was silent as you assumed he prepped to tell you that you were right all along.

“We’ve found four lures that are almost identical to the ones we found at your house, made with materials from the exact human remains. There was no copycat. It was always the Ripper.” He paused again. “Will and you were right.”

You let out a shaky sigh and smiled widely.

“No shit,” you muttered and Jack had the heart to laugh.

“I’ll call you with the details later.” He hung up the phone and you sat on your bed and you let a few laughs of happiness out mixed with some tears of happiness.

The dogs came to you and you pet them each individually. You spoke to them in a happy tone.

“I think dads coming home.”

2x07

#hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #will graham imagines #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Surveys #417-419

Been slacking on posting these, so here’s like three surveys over the past few days divided up. I just don’t feel like posting them individually. Beware, it’s a long post, haha.

Do you believe that animals don’t have souls? I lean towards the idea that they, at least more complex species with actual sentience, do in some way. It's hard to imagine like, a fly having a soul, but it's a nice thought. You could NEVER convince me some don't, though, like my late dog Teddy, Sara's old chameleon Jem, and I could go on and on. Have you ever not been able to swallow pills? No, I've always been able to. If you HAD to change your first name, what would you change it to? Maybe like, Quinn. Something you don't hear a lot, for sure. Something more memorable. What are your thoughts on orange soda? Orange cream soda is BOMB. Man, been so long since I've had that stuff... Are you good with children and/or animals? Don't mean to brag, but people say I'm like a magician with animals. No matter what it is, I bond with it. Children, not so much. I'm awkward around them. Who in your life makes you smile the most? My cat, ha ha. If you were cremated, where would you want your ashes to be placed? Hm. Maybe high up in the mountains or in the Kalahari Desert. Do you plan on going to your high school’s reunion? No. I'm pretty sure I'd shatter from memories just entering the building. Would you want revenge on someone if they killed someone special to you? Or would you find it in your heart to forgive? "Forgive" my ass. They'd better get what's coming to them, even if I've gotta be the person to deliver it. Is there someone you are dying to see? More than I think anyone could possibly know. But it's probably better if I never do. Could you picture yourself getting married and having kids? Married, yes. Having kids, no. I could only picture that in one phase of my life, but like I called it: a phase. I should never be a mother, nor do I want to be one to begin with, so yeah, no kids for me. Do you like to take walks? If my legs were actually worth a shit, yes, I would, if it's in a nature-filled area. What are you listening to at this moment in time? "Thoughts & Prayers" by Motionless In White. Did you ever kiss someone with a tattoo? No. Could you say something good about the last person you kissed? She's very resilient. Why are you single? Because 1.) I'm a very unappealing example of an adult, 2.) I'm not exactly very attractive, and 3.) I'm basically a hermit, so I don't meet people. Do you get jealous if your boyfriend hugs another girl? Hypothetically, in almost any case, I wouldn't. My imaginary boyfriend can have female friends. But I'll admit if it was like, an ex-girlfriend or something and it was a seriously intense hug, I might. Is there something that happened in your past you hate talking about? Yes, but I mean, who doesn't. Have you ever been completely alone with a boy in his room? You make this sound so scandalous lmao. Yes, plenty of times. I dated a dude and briefly lived with him for three and a half years. Do you hate the person you fell hardest for? No. Who was the last person that you cried in front of? I'm sure it was Mom. Is it hard for you to be “just friends” with the opposite sex? Nah. Do you remember every single person that you’ve kissed? Yeah. Do you believe that the world will actually end? Humanity, oh yeah. The planet itself, given the infinite nature of the universe, also yes. At SOME point, even if it's zillions of years down the line, Earth is gonna get fucked by something. Are you socially awkward? I am the literal avatar of "socially awkward." Would you rather watch a comedy movie or horror movie? Horror. Who is your favorite actor/actress? MARK IS A FUCKIN' ACTOR, Y'ALL. Are you satisfied with your gender? Yeah. Are you good at admitting your problems? HA! Yeah. ezpz Have you ever had a hangover? No, never been drunk to begin with. Do you know any strippers? No. How many times have you dyed your hair? I ain't counting. What is something that reminds you of your childhood? Dinosaurs. Do you think you eat healthy? I try to. I have my bad days, though. Are you sick quite often or hardly at all? My immune system is the fucking MVP. I am just about never, ever sick. Has anyone suspected you of being a different sexuality? Yes. Do you like chocolate or vanilla cake more? Chocolate, duh. Does it bother you to have blood drawn or not so much? Nah, no biggie. Has your cell phone ever rung in class? Omg no, I woulda been mortified. Have you ever tried opening your eyes under water? Yeah, as a kid. Would you rather have a cat or a dog? I prefer cats. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital? Like... six times, I wanna say. What would you say is your favorite type of flower? Orchids, but I also love dahlias. I've actually noticed that I've really had a greater "thing" for flowers lately. Like don't get me wrong, I've always loved flowers very much, but I've just found myself more drawn to them than usual, especially when taking the daily hour ride to the TMS office. Do you watch Toddlers and Tiaras? FUCK no. That show disgusts and angers me so much. If someone asked you to go to war today, what would you say? Yeah, no. Funny joke. I couldn't go anyway due to mental health issues and a suicidal history. Do you own an old vintage typewriter? We used to when I was little. I have no idea what happened to it, though?? Hell, maybe we still have it somewhere, but I doubt that. Do you like or hate the smell of fish? Ew, does ANYONE like the smell of fish??? Have you ever read any of John Green’s books? I got a few pages into The Fault in Our Stars, but stopped for no real reason. I didn't not like it or anything, I was just still in my "I don't read" episode. Are you a protective person? VERY. I'm a fucking guard dog over those I love most. Are you a fan of penguins? Yeah, they're cute. I especially think emperor penguins are very majestic. Have you ever met your favorite author? I don’t have a favorite author. Did you get your mom or dad’s eyes? Neither's. I think my maternal grandpa had blue eyes, though? I'm not sure at all, though. When was the last time someone bought you flowers? Not sure. Has there ever been a murder in your town? "A" murder? Thems is rookie numbers for my neck of the woods, fella. This place is known for crime, and that includes murder. When falling asleep, do you ever feel like you stopped breathing? Well, I have seriously severe sleep apnea, so... but the diagnosis came as a surprise to me, because I never DID think this. But sure enough, did a sleep study, and in just one hour's time, I stopped breathing like what, 30 times? What's the last thing that scared the hell out of you? Stupid drivers. Do you have any life-changing plans within the next 6 months? I guess getting a job could be pretty life-changing. As of right now, how do you feel about your future? I'm very, very scared. Who is the last person you ran into unexpectedly? Hm, I dunno. Where does your grandma live? Both of mine are dead, but my paternal grandmother lived in Michigan, while my maternal one technically lived in Florida, but stayed in New York with her son's family a whole lot. I don't really know where she stayed more. Do you know how to read music? Not anymore. Does the song you’re currently listening to remind you of anyone special? Not so much the song, but the band. Motionless In White is one of his all-time favorites, so I can't listen to them without thinking of Jason. Sucks because they've been becoming one of MY favorites, too, so I listen to them a lot. If the person who has hurt you the most, said they were in love with you, would you believe them? I'd tell him he was in a love with a person who no longer exists. It's impossible for him to be in love with me now when he doesn't know how much I've changed. If Facebook made you pay would you still use it? Ha, no. Have you ever been recorded on film without your permission? Not that I know of? Tell me about your last boyfriend? He's a wonderful person. He's been there for me without fail since we became friends in high school band, and he is SO fucking funny. He's always cared a lot about me, and I care a lot about him, just not in the same way he does me. He's like my big brother. Are your parents racist? My dad definitely is. What is your least favorite subject in school? Math and economics both sucked. Have you ever been involved in a custody battle before? Almost certain no. I'm pretty sure Dad didn't fight for custody at all, but it could've been something Mom just never told me. Have you ever babysat a newborn baby before? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I NEVER could. Do you have any siblings you neglect? .-. As a kid, did you ever go to camp? I went to Vacation Bible School, if that counts. Did your parents ever let you play in the pits of those multicolored balls? Yeah, until that big news story about a dirty needle pricking a child. Have any of your siblings ever had a crush on your significant other? Not to my knowledge. I highly doubt it. What do you usually order at Taco Bell, if you go there? Cheese quesadilla with fiesta potatoes. Rarely a pair of those cinnamon ball thingies. Ever consider a sex change? Nah. Do you eat whip cream straight out of the can? EW no. I hate the texture of whipped cream. What do you think of popcorn? Loooove. Have you ever dated any of your friends’ ex? No. Well, it's funny, Rachel (both Juan's and Jason's ex) and I are friends now, but definitely weren't at the time of us being together. Have you ever gone out with someone even though one of your friends liked that person first? If yes, did you feel bad? If no, were you tempted to? No. Would you rather be a rich musician, or a rich actor? Musician. What was the last charity you donated to? I don't recall. Did you like to collect frogspawn as a kid? I've told the "my friends and I saved hundreds of tadpoles" story enough times, so for this question, I'll just talk about when I would go fishing with Dad as a kid. Back then, if I got bored of actually fishing, I would walk along the riverbank and try to catch tadpoles and minnows in my hands. It was soooo fun to Kid Brittany. Do you walk fast or slow? I walk pretty damn slow. Can you juggle with more than two items? I can't juggle, period. Do you like jalapenos? Yeah! Do you like kiwis? Yessss, I love kiwi! Does anyone in your family go deer or bird hunting? Who is it anyway? I don't know if she still does, but my little sister used to go deer hunting with a friend.

Are you saving up for anything right now? What? Yeah, my pet snake's 40 gallon terrarium. What sort of things do you have bookmarked in your internet browser? It's quite diverse, but I think I mostly have templates for specific character profiles. Have you ever snuck in to a theater/dance/bar etc? No, I'm a good noodle. If given the chance, would you go to Ireland? Certainly! It's beautiful there. If you have a cat, does it ever “converse” with you? Oh, ABSOLUTELY. When I talk to him, he sure does try to answer me and it's the cutest thing, ha ha. Have you ever tried those electric toothbrushes? Yeah, that’s what I use. Has anyone told you that they wanted to marry you/were planning on it/etc? Yeah, guess he changed his mind. Name one of your ex’s mother’s names? Virginia. Does your favorite song have a meaning? BIG TIME. Have you ever written or received a suicide note? I've written one. .-. What is the worst thing a child has ever done to you while you were babysitting? When I was changing her diaper, she got up and ran around naked in the house. ;-; Do you own a nightgown? No. If you could get any pet right now, what would you get? i. want. my. tarantula. Have you ever actually been stuffed into a locker? No. That is just such a TV trope that I've never even heard of happening irl. Do you/did you decorate the inside of your locker at school with stuff? I only had a locker in middle school, and I believe I didn't. I didn't want one in HS. What’s the coolest thing you’ve made with Legos? I was never a Legos kid; I played with Lincoln Logs. Do you want to get pregnant right now? Fuck no, man. Or ever. Have you ever housed a friend for a long period of time because they had no place to live? No. If you have a favorite comedian, have they ever been in a movie? I don't have one, really. Are there any books you want to read? Besides the series I'm reading, I want to read The Testaments by Margaret Atwood, but idk if I'll ever get to it, really. If you have younger siblings, are you very protective of them? We don't have a close relationship, but I am nevertheless. If you have older siblings, are they very protective of you? Not really, it seems. First letter of the names of everyone you have kissed? J, T, D, S. Do you like going to school sports games? No, I hated it. When Ash was a cheerleader, Mom made me go, and I was never happy about it. Have you ever worn your boyfriend’s clothes? An ex-boyfriend's, yeah. Did you get into your mom’s makeup when you were a kid? I don't think I did? Do you want anything pierced? Ugh, a lot of places. The last time you washed your hair, did you use conditioner? I never do. Has your partner ever accused you of cheating when you actually didn’t? I've never been accused of cheating. Has anyone ever called you stuck-up? No. I'm quite the opposite. Have you been diagnosed with any mental disorders? Too many, really. What are you doing this summer? Nada. Do you still watch MTV? I never did. Have you ever spent the night with the last person you kissed? Yes. What’s the dress code for your job? Do you like it? I'm unemployed. Does your job allow piercings or tattoos? ^, and this might sound stupid, but I wouldn't work at a job that didn't. Especially tattoos. No job is stopping me from doing things that improve my self-esteem and body image, particularly when I LOATHE my body. If a little bit of art makes me feel better about myself? Nobody is stopping me. What are some trends you dislike that everyone seems to love? "Crocs. Whyyyy?" <<<< THIS. First people hated them, now they love them??? They're hideous as shit. If you got married and then got divorced, would you want to re-marry? I don't really know. How often do you use lotion? Not NEARLY enough for someone with skin as dry as mine. Do you donate your old stuff to Goodwill? If so, what was the last thing you donated? Yeah. Mom recently brought some old toys, I think? How weight conscious are you? You have no fucking idea. Rent a movie or go see one in theaters? I prefer going to a theater. I enjoy the experience. What’s the biggest personality trait turn-off for a potential partner? Probably being an explosive/volatile person. I can't with that. Would you ever go on a birth control pill? I already am to regulate my period and tame the cramps. And if I was sexually active, I absolutely would want to be on it. What's your favorite late night tv show? I don’t have one. At high school do or did you participate in Spirit Week? No. Do you have a favorite vocalist? Who? Queen's Freddie Mercury will probably always top the list. If you have a favorite photographer, can you describe their work? I don't have a favorite photographer. Surprisingly. Are sex and sexual activities something you enjoy? If it's with someone I'm in love with and am in the mood, sure. What is one aspect of your life that did not turn out as you expected? I did NOT expect to reach 25 like... *gestures at self* this. What is one thing stopping you from becoming a veterinarian? I could never handle euthanizing pets and watching the families' hearts break. How long have you lived in the house you live in? Not even a year. Compared to this time last year, are you happier or sadder? I'm definitely sadder. Especially today. Do you like Subway? I do. Have you ever seen a volcano? No. Have you ever found a spider on your bed? Yes. It's the scariest shit when one skitters across your blanket, because like, you LEAST expect it to happen in the comfort of your own bed. Are you satisfied with the way your life is right now? Not even remotely, if I'm being honest. I'm at a real low. When was the last time you ate at Burger King? Years ago, when I was a vegetarian and went there for the veggie burger. How often do you cry? lol a lot Ever had a crush on a teacher? No. Can you wire a plug? ... I don't even know what you mean by "wire a plug," so obviously no lmfao. Where were you when you got your first period? Well I think I actually *started* at school, but I noticed when I got home. Can you drive? I mean I'm capable, but I'm an incredibly anxious, overly passive, and just generally terrified driver. I'm so scared of when I finally get new glasses and therefore a new permit... but I have to get used to driving. Living where I do, public transportation is very, very limited, and I just can't have people driving me places the rest of my life. Exercise or healthy eating? I sadly hate exercising SO much. I'd rather eat healthy. Did you play Red Rover when you were a child? Yeah. Are you more attracted to men or women? This can actually vary with time, which I originally thought was weird but is apparently normal for some bisexual individuals. There are spans where I feel more sexual attraction to men, and then other times women. Has anyone ever called you rich? God no, I am so far from it. What makes you feel beautiful? Nothing. Are you considered a very sensitive person? I'm way too sensitive for my own good. Have you ever told someone you never wanted to speak to them again? Yes, my dad. I regret that letter I sent him so, so much. I honestly don't know how he can treat me with so much love after the shit I said. If you could watch any TV series right now, what would it be? I am... astonishingly behind on Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty. I know, seriously incredible. I just don't watch TV, man. It's strange, I'm into the show, of course I am, I just... don't like sitting myself in front of a television and purely watching it. I'll catch up, though. Do you grind your teeth, and if so, why do you do it? No. But it's not like people have a reason they grind their teeth... they just do. Do you feel the need to rant about anything right now? If so, go for it. I could, but I'm not going to. It'll just upset me. Do you have a friend named Nick? What’s his favourite food? My sister's husband's name is Nick, but he is definitely not my friend. I can't stand his bigoted, sexist, misogynistic, homophobic, racist ass. I don't know or care what his favorite food is. What are you listening to? I'm re-watching Gab and Sinow play Resident Evil 5. People can say all they want about RE5, but I love it. Do you prefer waffles or pancakes? Waffles, but only if they're still soft enough to not be considered crunchy. I prefer them because I can put peanut butter on them, and the grooves catch the syrup instead of just absorbing it all like pancakes. Do you prefer non-diet or diet soda? I don't/can't drink diet sodas because the artificial sweetener gives me a KILLER headache. Are you craving anything right now? You guys have no idea how badly I want Taco Bell for whatever reason. Which word did you say first, mama or dada? The latter. What was your first pet’s name? So, there's three answers to this. I was born into the family while we had a collie named Trigger, but I have absolutely zero memory of her. She passed when I was too young. Our first family pet that I clearly remember was Chance, our rescued cat. My first *personal* pet was either a guinea pig named Squeak or Chinese water dragon named Shadow. I can't remember who came first. Who was your best friend in elementary? It changed with the years, but I can say the three biggies were Brianna, Kim, and Quiata. Who was your favorite teacher in high school? Probably Coach Collie. He was so wise, kind, funny... He was all-around just wonderful and taught so many life lessons. When you go to a restaurant, do you have a go-to dish? Always. What is the best part of your most ordinary day? Waking up and doing my first sweep of the Internet before I get bored outta my fucking senses. Do you read any web comics? No.

Do you drink bottled water? Yeah, but like any water, it has to be COLD. Not room temperature. Not a tad chilly. I mean cooooold. When did you last use a straw? Earlier. I have a metal straw I use to drink water with because I drink faster through a straw, and with it being water, of course I want to try to drink as much as I can when I actually choose to drink water. Have you ever tackled someone to the ground? No. Do you know anyone who lies to make themselves look more interesting? My former best friend did that. She was an online friend, so it made it easy. I finally caught on and called her out on it, and then she just totally dipped. Do you like to sing? Not that much, honestly. Like sometimes I feel like it, sure, but not frequently. Are your parents in good health? No, not really. Have you ever been a caregiver to a sick/disabled relative? No. I feel bad saying it, but I know I never could be. I could NOT clean another human being. It's one of the bajillion reasons I'm not having kids. Do you like to take naps during the day? "Like" isn't the right word. I just... need to. Most days, there is NO way I can make it 'til night without one. What movie was your favorite to see in the movie theater? Even though it was sincerely a sucky movie, I really enjoyed watching Silent Hill: Revelation because I saw the 3D version, plus the hype over my favorite franchise getting a new movie was just very exciting. Favorite Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle character? I was never into that. Ever watched The Blair Witch Project? Yes, and I positively adore it. I genuinely think it's a genius horror movie, never showing, but telling through other methods. Have a favorite AC/DC song? Probably "You Shook Me All Night Long." Are you good at selling candy for those fundraiser things? Omg nooooo I HATED doing that shit, especially when some amount of sales were like, required for whatever bullshit reason. I hate hate hate advertising to people. My parents always bought them instead. Have you ever had a crush on someone too old for you? No. Well, besides James Hetfield, ha ha. What's your favorite Dr. Suess quote? I don't know enough quotes to have one. If you were to have wings, what would you want them to look like? Dark and dragon-esque with lots of rips and tears in them... but not enough to stop me from flying, ha ha. Have you ever broken up with someone to find you want them back later? No. Has anyone ever dared you to eat a chili pepper? Did you do it? No. Have you ever tried Thai food? No. Have you ever watched Avatar? The TV show, not the movie. I've seen I think one season with Sara so far? I actually quite enjoy it. What's your cellphone's signature for text? WOW this survey is ancient. If you smoke marijuana, what is your preferred or typical method? I don't smoke it. Do you often take painkillers? I dunno about "often," but headaches to the point I take something aren't rare for me. Do you wish you were in a relationship? I mean yes, but I know it's for the better I'm not. Have you ever been to the ER? Many times. Do you ever feel guilty eating meat? I feel extremely guilty. I try not to think about it. Where have you lived for the most part of your life? Eastern NC. How old are you? 25. What are you listening to at the moment? Powerwolf came out with a new album, so I've been bingeing the shit out of some songs, ha ha. Right now it's "Blood For Blood." Do you watch WWE Raw? Ew, no. I have NEVER gotten the appeal of wrestling. Just like... why????? Do you dye your hair? Nowhere near regularly. :/ I haven't had it dyed in a very long time, and I hate it. I love colored hair. We just can't afford that expense on something so little. My hair does NOT take dye easily, so we have to have a professional do it, and that isn't exactly cheap. Have you ever lived in a different country that the one you’re living in? No. Which of your parents will you see next? I live with my mother, so. Have you fallen asleep in school? Not in class, no. In college when I would be in the library between classes, though, I've dozed before. Have you ever been hospitalized? Yes, but not for physical issues. Do you make fun of obese people? You're talking to someone who is. So obviously no, and you're a piece of fucking shit if you do. Do you have an innie or an outtie? Innie. Have you ever tried to headbang? No. Even as a metalhead, I don't get it, man. You're asking for a headache. Do you own any Converse? What do you think of them? I have a few and like them. Have you ever started a rumor? No. Have you ever been in a position of authority? I mean, I'm an admin on two sites, so I guess? Were your ancestors royalty? Yeah, I'm related to one of the Queen Victorias, I believe. I just know she had a thing for beheading people, ha ha. What do you like on your pasta/noodles? Sauce, butter, grated cheese, etc.? Just tomato sauce and meatballs, really. Who is the most ungrateful person you know? What makes them this way? My fucking ex-best friend. You could never, ever give her enough and she just... blegh. She was so fucking ungrateful for everything people did for her. It was just never enough. Do you like cherry Pepsi? I like cherry Coke. I don't like Pepsi. Have you ever held an uncommon pet before (ex: mouse, spider, snake, lizard)? I've held snakes, rats, lizards, and a tarantula. Who did you last play truth or dare with? No clue. Have you ever camped out somewhere for an event the next day? No. When were you the saddest in your life? 2016. Do you know anyone, personally, who is in an abusive relationship? Are you? No. If you have siblings, have they moved out or do they still live with you? Yeah, they've moved out. What was the most unique pet you’ve owned? I'd probably say my champagne ball python. A lot of people don't even know ball python morphs exist, so seeing her might surprise some people. Do you like Doritos? Yeah. When you buy clothes, do you always try them on first? No, but I need to learn how to... I just HATE doing it. Have you used bugspray recently? No. Do you enjoy swimming in the ocean? Yesssss. Have you ever tried to sew or knit anything? No. Has something ever happened to you that seemed like it was from a movie? Most of Jason's and my relationship felt like one. Hence why the breakup felt so sudden and just impossible. Do you find yourself to be a believer in love at first sight? Not even remotely. Is there something you want to do, that you swear you will, no matter what? Spread Teddy's ashes in Yellowstone. I promised him. Are you longing for the day that you’ll be an adult? (If you’re not already) I am an adult, and it sucks. What’s something you’ve vowed to never eat? Any meat that was hunted. Have you ever owned a diary/journal with a lock and key? I don't believe so. When you were little, what movie did you watch over and over? Mostly Disney films, like The Lion King and Finding Nemo. Are you deathly allergic to anything? No. Do you know what you want for your dream house? Nope. I honestly don't really care about having a "dream" house to begin with. I just need one that's cozy to me and gets the job done. Have you ever seen the movie The Notebook? Many, many times. It's my favorite romance movie. Have you ever used the photo editing site “Picnik”? No, not to my memory. Has an animal ever taken a strong dislike to you? Our old dog Bentley didn't like me all that much, and I didn't like him, either. Have you ever attempted to cut your own hair? No. Do you have a lucky or special coin? No. Do you love ice cream cake more than normal cake? No. Do you check your email daily? No. Is there anyone you know who’s in any way paralyzed? No. For you, do you commonly feel more jealousy or envy? Envy. Do you rely on the heads/tails flipping of a coin sometimes for decisions? No. Has a laptop ever burned your legs? Yes, actually. For a while many years ago, my old laptop left subtle burn marks on my legs. Anyone’s birthday coming up soon? My nephew's is next month. Do you like Laffy Taffy? I doooo. Are your biceps at all noticeable? Ha, no. Have you ever seen a walrus? Maybe when I went to SeaWorld as a kid? Did you ever have one of those easy bake ovens as a kid? Yup. If given the opportunity, would you ride on a camel? Sure. What flavor cake do you like for your birthday? Red velvet. Have you ever had a job you loved? Nope. Have you ever been in a building that was on fire? Yikes, no. Have you ever written a poem for someone? Two people. Have you been best friends with someone of a different race? Yes. Who is the person you are closest to that you’ve met online? Sara. What was the name of the first porcelain doll you got? I was very afraid of dolls as a kid, so I obviously didn't have one. Do you sell any products? If so, what? I mean, I'm a wannabe photographer that sells my service. Owls or peacocks? Owls. Lions or horses? Lions. Can you still fit into kid’s clothes? Hell no. What devotional do you read, if any? None. What do you make wishes on? I only ever do for the tradition of it on my birthday. I don't believe in the magic of wishes, though. Have you ever made a recipe you found in a magazine? No. Are you bitter about anything? Probably always will be. Have you ever been in a love triangle? No. How bad are your hangovers? Never had one. Have you ever broken a bone? If so, what was the cause of it? Yes. It was identified as a fracture, but a break and a fracture are technically like the same thing, so. At a skating rink, I fell and landed on my hand so the top of it nearly touched my arm, so my wrist got FUCKED. I will never, ever forget the severity of the pins and needles feeling and just the experience in general. It hurt so goddamn bad. Is this the best year of your life? Fuck no.

#in other words i don't feel like thinking up song lyrics for three surveys at once lmao #survey #surveys #random questions

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duhragonball · 3 years

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (150/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: This story takes place about 1000 years before 66 years after the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[24 December, Age 762. Planet Namek.]

Luffa was the Legendary Super Saiyan.

And then she wasn't.

A harrowing battle on the Planet Nagaoka had left her power exhausted, and then a wish on a magic dragon brought her centuries into the future, where she recruited into a temporal police force. During a mission on the Planet Namek, she was horrified to discover that the Saiyans of the future knew nothing about her. She was neither legendary, nor super.

And now, thanks to the body-swapping technique of Captain Ginyu, she was no longer a Saiyan either. She watched helplessly as her own body attacked Son Goku.

"I was going to take your body!" Ginyu said as he battered Goku's forearms with Luffa's fists. "But then what's-her-name spoiled my shot! But I gotta admit, I could get used to this!"

Luffa looked at her hands, which were actually the hands of Captain Ginyu. He was over two meters tall, with purple skin an a swollen cranium adorned with two black horns. Luffa's eyes went wide with fear. There was no tail, or even a phantom pain one might expect to sense when one's tail was removed. Everything felt... wrong. Her senses reeled with the conflicting ki signature of this alien body. It might have been easier to adjust if she had been stuck in a body from a species she was more familiar with. But she had no idea what sort of life form Ginyu's body was supposed to be.

And suddenly, it dawned on Luffa that Captain Ginyu probably had no idea either. This couldn't have been the first time he had used this trick. It was the perfect secret weapon. If he ever faced an enemy that was too much for him, he could turn the tables and increase his power with a single stroke. This giant purple creature couldn't have been Ginyu's original body. It had to be the body of one of his enemies. Ginyu probably stole it on a whim, and knew nothing about its homeworld, or its culture, or anything...

Then she finally noticed Guldo and Jeice flanking her.

"Not so tough now are ya?" Jeice asked. "Did a real number on Burter a minute ago, but now? Looks like yer luck's changed, hasn't it? Yeah, changed to bad luck, that is."

"Enough!" Guldo seethed. "Let's just put this creep down, once and for all!"

To her credit, Luffa still had enough wherewithal to defend herself, but the body of Captain Ginyu was too bulky and strange for her to use well. Worse, she was having trouble focusing on anything but the existential horror of being trapped outside of her own body, with no way to return. Only Ginyu knew the secret of this power, and he would never be foolish enough to switch back. A chill ran down her spine as the realization settled in. She was trapped. Trapped!

And this state of terror proved to be Luffa's downfall. Guldo kept her in check with his psychic powers, and Jeice teed off with some of his ki attacks, but this was a formality, whether they understood it or not. Luffa was already beaten.

"Crusher Ball!" Jeice shouted as he launched a globe of red energy at her. Luffa struggled for all she was worth, but there was no escape. Her telepathic powers and guile had helped her escape Guldo's psi-lock before, but that was in her own body, and Guldo wouldn't fall for the same trick twice. Jeice's attack connected, and she blacked out from the pain...

[27 February, Age 850. Toki Toki City.]

...And then Luffa found herself back in the Time Nest. To her relief, she was also back in her own body. She was hurt, but not as badly as she had been in Ginyu's flesh. She stared at her hands, which were now shaking uncontrollably.

"Wh-what happened?" As she asked the question, she suddenly realized how dry her throat was, and how small and pathetic her voice sounded.

"Nothing good, I'm afraid," Trunks said. She was sitting on the floor of the Time Vault, beside one of the stools at the large octagonal table in the center of the room. He loomed over her like a long shadow, then reached down to help her up.

She didn't take his hand.

"I... I... was..."

"The short version is this: you got your butt kicked," Trunks said. He eventually gave up on pulling her up by the hand, and crouched down to scoop her up in his arms. "Come on, I'll take you to the hospital."

"No!" Luffa shouted. "I mean... I'm fine! I'm fine!"

She swatted his hands away, and Trunks backed off and left her where she was. "Look, I don't know what went wrong out there," he said, "but you're not 'fine'. Luffa, we need to get you checked out..."

"I don't need your help!" Luffa screamed. She started grabbing at her short black hair and making snarling noises that sounded like gears grinding together.

"Luffa, you're hyperventilating!" Trunks said. "Let me--"

He reached out to her again, only this time she scrambled to her feet, knocking over one of the stools.

"Get away from me, you bastard!" she shrieked.

"Not until you've calmed down," Trunks said firmly. "I can't let you run amok in the Time Vault--"

He took one step forward, and she threw a punch at his face. The impact sounded like thunder.

Trunks didn't budge. Luffa pulled her hand back and bared her teeth. She wasn't sure whether to back off or to try again. He wasn't even bothering to defend himself. In her present condition, he probably didn't need to.

"If that helps," Trunks said, "then keep going. As long as you don't damage the Time Vault, you can hit me as much as you like."

"Your father was a coward and royalist fool!" Luffa screamed. It had nothing to do with the matter at hand, but she felt the need to shout something at him.

"I know exactly who my father is," Trunks said evenly. "Believe what you want to believe. Nothing you say about him alters the truth."

"What gives you the right to stand here and choose these jobs?" Luffa seethed.

"I did."

They both turned to find the Supreme Kai of Time had entered the room. There was neither mirth nor anger on her face, but a look of abiding concern. Trunks bowed his head as she approached.

"I don't allow fighting in the Time Vault," she said. "Trunks knows this, Luffa, but you're new, so I thought I should mention it. Can you fill me in on what's been going on?"

"It's my fault," Trunks said. "I should have pulled Luffa out of there the moment her earpiece stopped working, but I couldn't find her at first, and then she seemed to do so well afterward."

"Don't make excuses for me, you--"

Chronoa held out her hand to Luffa. "You're hurt," she said. "I can take care of that."

"Wait!" Trunks said. "You don't need to do that! The hospital--!"

"It's all right, Trunks," she said without looking away from Luffa. "I know what I'm doing. And I think this might help Luffa trust us a little better."

Luffa wanted to refuse her, to slap her hand away and scream obscenities at them both. And yet, in spite of her turmoil, there was an even greater dread beneath it. Toki Toki City was the only life she had left. If she turned against the Time Patrol now, what was left for her? Where else could she go?

Reluctantly, she took Chronoa's hand into her own.

"She's hurt pretty badly," Trunks warned her. "You should sit down, at least."

"I'll be all right," Chronoa said. She closed her hand around Luffa's, and placed her other hand on Luffa's shoulder. Then she closed her eyes and concentrated.

The sensation was very similar to the healing effect produced by Pulmon, the Namekian healer from the Toki Toki City Hospital. Luffa closed her own eyes and took a deep breath as she tried to relax. Gradually, the aches and pains faded, and the cuts and abrasions on Luffa's skin were reversed. The mental wounds remained, however, but with her body restored, Luffa could at least see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Luffa finally opened her eyes, only to find Chronoa wincing in pain. It looked as though she had gotten into a fight of her own during those few minutes. The wounds looked familiar to Luffa, and then she realized the Kai's body was hurt in the exact same places that Luffa had been. The Namekian healer's power was nothing like this.

"What did you...?" Luffa asked as Chronoa withdrew her hands.

"Supreme Kai!" Trunks said as he reached out to steady her.

"I'll be all right," Chronoa said. "You weren't kidding, Trunks. She was in rough shape. I'd better head for the hospital myself..."

"I don't understand," Luffa said.

"She has the power to heal," Trunks explained, "but it's an empathic ability. To mend your injuries, she has to take your pain as her own."

"That's crazy!" Luffa shouted. She followed Trunks as he led the Kai to the nearest stool. "You shouldn't have done that! Not when the hospital--!"

"H-here... in the Time Patrol," Chronoa said, "we take care of each other. I can see... that you're deeply troubled. I can't take that pain from you, but... but I can share some of your burden. Now... can you tell us what happened?"

Luffa regarded her for a moment, and felt ashamed of herself for lashing out at them. Despite Trunks fretting over her, Chronoa seemed to bear Luffa's wounds with greater dignity and strength than Luffa had done. She wanted to run and hide in her apartment, but Chronoa had made her point. The least Luffa could do was to honor the Kai's sacrifice with a field report.

"Vegeta was influenced by the enemy's power," Luffa began. "So I went after him first. Then Recoome attacked me. He burned out my earpiece, so I lost contact with Trunks."

"Y-you were right," Chronoa said to Trunks. "You should have pulled her out then and there."

"I'm sorry," Trunks said.

"Kakarot showed up," Luffa continued, "and we fought the Ginyu Force. We thought Vegeta was going to fight alongside us, but he turned and fled. Then Ginyu came back with reinforcements. A few dozen guys from Frieza's spaceship. They were all infected with the enemy's power."

"A few dozen?" Trunks repeated.

"It sounds like whoever's behind this is getting bolder," Chronoa said. She held her ribs and took short shallow breaths. She was a very small woman, even compared to Luffa. It pained her to see the Kai hurt like this. It bothered her even more to know that she was directly responsible for the pain Chronoa was now experiencing.

"Kakarot and I fought them off," Luffa said, "but then I caught Ginyu using that technique of his. The one we saw in the scroll, where he switches bodies. I knew it would mess things up if he swapped with Kakarot, so I tried to stop him... only I ended up in the line of fire myself."

"Ginyu swapped bodies with you?" Trunks asked.

"And then his cronies finished me off," Luffa said. "I couldn't... there was nothing I could do. They would have killed me if you hadn't brought me back here."

"We didn't bring you back," Trunks said. "The Scroll of Eternity does that automatically when you die during a mission."

"Die?" Luffa asked.

"Not literally, I mean," Trunks said. "When you use the Scroll of Eternity to travel back in time, your ability to alter history is limited. That's why you could participate in that battle on Namek without changing the past. If you get hurt badly enough on a mission, the Scroll will pull you back for your own safety."

"Then... then we can try again?" Luffa asked. "I think if I start over, maybe I can--"

Trunks shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said. "You've had a rough time of it, Luffa. Shenron may have chosen you to be my partner on this case, but I can't keep putting you in danger like this."

"No," Chronoa said. "I'm afraid we don't have a choice, Trunks. At least, not as far as Captain Ginyu is concerned."

They both looked at the Kai, who was now leaning on Trunks' arm for support.

"We can't send Luffa back to the beginning of the mission," she explained. "If we do, we risk jeopardizing the progress she's already made in correcting the flow of history. And we can't send another Patroller in her place, for the same reason."

"That's fine," Luffa said. "Now that I've seen Ginyu's trick, I'll be able to avoid it, and--"

"It's not that simple Luffa," Chronoa said. "At least, not in this case. When you resume the mission, you'll be going back to the moment when you left. That means you'll be back in Captain Ginyu's body. Whatever happens next, you'll need to proceed from that status. I'm sorry."

"The enemy must have been counting on this to happen," Trunks said. "That's why they chose that particular moment in history. They knew if Captain Ginyu used his ability, it would make our job a lot harder, leaving them free to move on to their next target."

"We're in a pinch, sure, but it's not all bad..." Chronoa said. She looked up at Luffa and smiled. "It'll be difficult to win, but you've still got Goku and the others to help you. It might take a few tries to get it right, but I know you can do it."

"A few tries?!" Luffa said. "You've got to be kidding. I could barely control myself in that purple meathead's body, and you want me to go back?"

"We can't send anyone else in," Trunks said. "If the body-change weren't involved, things would be different, but our priority is to contain the changes to the timeline. If we send a second patroller in now, it could destabilize the flow of time in that era."

Chronoa nodded. "It's a risk we can't afford. I'm sorry, Luffa. I know how difficult this must be for you, but there's no other way--"

"No!" Luffa shouted. "I'm sick of hearing that! You're a god, aren't you? You told me this whole city sits outside of time, right? But it all depends on me putting myself through that again? You're insane! Both of you!"

Trunks was about to speak up, to chastise her for stepping out of line, but before he could speak, Luffa ran out of the room, knocking over one of the stools along the way.

"Hey!" was all Trunks managed to say, and then Chronoa gestured for him to stop before he could run after her.

"Trunks. Let her go," she said.

"But no one else can finish the mission! We need her--!"

"Exactly," Chronoa said. "We need her. She's got to work this out for herself. Besides, I still need some medical attention, remember?"

"Oh! Oh, of course!" Trunks said. "Right away."

*******

Luffa spent the next two hours in the shower. There wasn't any particular reason for this. Having nowhere else to go, she returned to her apartment in Toki Toki City, and then she retreated into the bathroom, and then she retreated further still behind shower curtain. The running water offered a distraction, at any rate.

She felt sick and ashamed of herself. It wasn't just the trauma of switching bodies with Ginyu, although that certainly crystallized the panic and fear she had been dealing with all along. Luffa was trapped in the future, a future where her former glory had been nearly forgotten. Her friends and family were all dead, and it seemed that all she had left was herself. Now they wanted her to give that up along with everything else.

She had seen the resentment in Trunks' eyes. He only cared about getting the job done for his precious Kai, and all she cared about was the preservation of a history that Luffa had never known. And what was so great about it anyway? Who was to say that the changes being made weren't for the better? Luffa hadn't given the matter much thought before now. It had been a lot simpler when it was just a matter of busting heads. But now...

Her hands were still shaking. She couldn't remember the last time it had been this bad. Centuries ago, her wife had rubbed scented oils into Luffa's palms and whispered gentle words into her ear. None of it actually helped, but it was the thought that counted, the idea that she wasn't alone in her suffering.

And then she remembered how the Kai had healed Luffa's wounds. Not only healed them, but took the damage onto her own body in exchange.

Luffa didn't want to think about that. She curled up on the tile floor around the drain, and shut her eyes tightly. She didn't want to think about how small the Supreme Kai of Time was. Or how there was no hesitation or fear when she used that empathic power. Or how she endured Luffa's pain with a friendly smile on her face.

It wasn't fair. Luffa wasn't the strongest, not anymore. So why did she still have to be responsible for these kinds of things? Hadn't she done enough? How far was she supposed to take this? How much more would she be expected to sacrifice?

"Hey."

Luffa's eyes snapped open and she sat up and backed to the far corner of the shower. "What the hell!" she shrieked.

It was her roommate. Jayncho simply stood there, holding the shower curtain in one hand as she leaned inside to see what was going on.

"I knocked, but you didn't answer," she said glumly. "I wasn't sure there was anyone in here."

"I locked the door, dammit!" Luffa yelled. She was suddenly grateful that she hadn't bothered to change out her tattered clothes. They were thoroughly soaked by now, but it was far better than the alternative.

"I thought you might have locked yourself out and then left," Jayncho said.

"How did you even get in here?" Luffa asked. The bathroom door was still closed.

"Slid underneath," Jayncho said. The Majin woman was a shapeshifter, and Luffa was still getting used to that idea. Even now, as she noticed Jayncho's black one-piece swimsuit and an inflatable inner tube with a bird's head sticking out of it, Luffa had to wonder if those were actual clothes, or just part of Jayncho's flesh, made to resemble clothing.

"What do you want?" Luffa asked, now more exasperated than furious.

"The shower," Jayncho said. "If you're done, that is. Not used to sharing, really. I've never had a roommate before. Do all Saiyans spend this long in the shower? Nothing wrong with that, I guess. I just didn't know."

"No..." Luffa said after a long pause. "No, we don't. I was just... Never mind. I'll leave you to it."

She rose to her feet and shut off the tap. The hard part was getting around Jayncho while she was holding the pool toy around her waist. Luffa didn't understand what it was for, and wasn't particularly interested in finding out.

"Wait," Luffa said, just as she was about to unlock the door.

"What?" Jayncho asked.

"What does everyone do around here?" Luffa asked. "Everyone here is a Time Patroller, right? So why am I the only one going on these missions?"

Jayncho shrugged. "Lot of things, I guess. Research. Investigations. Upkeep on the city is a whole thing by itself."

"What do you do, then?" Luffa asked.

Jayncho shrugged again. "PQ's, mostly. If you get bored, that's a good way to kill an afternoon. I'd show you, but... I won't."

Luffa nodded and opened the door, leaving Jayncho to her shower.

Before she could step out of the door, she noticed something strange out of the corner of her eye. Luffa turned, and saw Jayncho melting her entire body. Within seconds, Jayncho--swimsuit, pool toy, and all-- collapsed into a puddle of red liquid, and she began to flow through the drain. A moment later, and there was no trace of Jayncho at all.

Luffa made an audible gulp and hurried to her bedroom to change into some dry clothes.

*******

It didn't take Luffa very long to find the PQ station. There was a whole section of the city devoted to this, and crowds of people were gathered outside the registration counter to participate. Luffa felt out of place in the crowd, but she had already tried solitude and found very little solace there. She needed something to do, and there was usually some sort of action to be found in large gatherings like this one.

"Is this your first time?"

A man tapped Luffa on the shoulder, and it startled Luffa so much that she nearly jumped.

"Whoa, sorry there," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't," Luffa said indignantly. "I was just... distracted."

"It's cool. My boyfriend's a Saiyan like you. Seems like he's always half a world away, too. Hey, Mosh! Over here!"

Mosh was tall and had a wiry physique. His fluffy black hair was bundled up behind his head in a ponytail, and his tail was wrapped firmly around the beltline of his armored vest. He wore a scouter device similar to the one used by Frieza's men, but this one extended across both eyes and ears, and looked more like an expensive pair of sunglasses with rose-colored lenses.

"You find us a partner, Ravi?" he asked as he waved hello.

Ravi was shorter than Mosh, but still taller than Luffa. He elbowed Mosh in the ribs. "Can we at least get to know her first before we jump right into that?" he asked.

Mosh rubbed his hands through the bleach blonde curls on Ravi's head. "She's a Saiyan, right?" he asked. "What else do we gotta know?"

Ravi chuckled. "Sorry about him, he's just rude like that."

"Nah, you're outnumbered now, Ravi," Mosh said. "With the Saiyans, small talk is rude. You wanna be polite, you gotta throw up your hands and say 'wanna fight?'"

Luffa couldn't help but smile a little. "He's not wrong," she said to Ravi.

"Oh, is that so?" Ravi asked. "Then how do Saiyans introduce themselves, Mosh?"

"Aw, that's easy," Mosh said. "What you do is you put up your dukes, just like this--" He held his closed fists close to his own face. "Then you look her in the eye and go: Tell me your name, warrior, so that I'll have something to call you when I tell others of my glorious victory."

Part of Luffa wanted to play along with this, but she just couldn't find the words. "I'm Luffa," she said. "Sorry, maybe I'm not up for this. My roommate told me I could find a little action here, but I'm not sure I'm ready for this..."

"It's cool, Luffa," Ravi said. "Maybe you just need some time. Your ki feels kind of choppy, if you don't mind me saying so. I know some guided meditation techniques that could help--"

"Aw, not again, Ravi," Mosh groaned. "You always gotta show off that fancy New Crane School diploma, don't you?"

Ravi gestured at his green gi. The fabric only went over one shoulder, exposing the right side of his chest. Luffa noticed something iridescent in the fabric, which added a little flair to anyone who happened to be looking Ravi when the angle of the light changed.

"You're just jealous because I look so good in this," Ravi insisted. "But I forgot, I'm outnumbered. What do the Saiyans do in situations like this?"

"Simple," Mosh said. "Girl needs a breather, she might as well join us on a PQ." He gestured to Luffa. "You can chill out and watch us do the mission, and if the mood strikes you, you'll be right where you need to be. How about it?"

"Well... yeah, I guess that sounds okay," Luffa said. "I need to see how these things work, anyway."

Ravi was amazed. "You've got to be kidding me!" he said to Mosh. "Since when were you so good with people?!"

"I told you, babe," Mosh said. "She's a Saiyan. Me and her are on the same wavelength, that's all."

Ravi eyed Luffa with mock-suspicion. "Did he put you up to this, Luffa?" he asked. "Be honest. If you don't feel safe, just blink once for yes, twice for no, okay?"

Luffa chuckled in spite of herself, and followed them to the registration desk.

*******

"So, long story short," Mosh said, "There's these things called 'Runaway Time Fragments.' When the Time Patrol cleans up an anomaly or a change in history, it can create after-effects. Some are easier to deal with than others. The ones that need some, ahh, percussive maintenance? Those get assigned to us."

"I still don't get how fighting can fix a time anomaly," Luffa said. "Not that I'm complaining, but it doesn't make sense."

The three of them were gathered around an egg-shapped vehicle parked on the Time Plaza. The top section was covered with a blue canopy, just large enough for three passengers to fit inside. Four struts protruded out of the sides of the fuselage, making the whole thing look like an oddly-shaped insect. Ravi opened the hatch and they all squeezed inside.

"It's complicated," Ravi said as he activated the controls, "but I'll give you my take on it, if you're interested."

"Sure," Luffa said as the canopy lowered over their heads. She noticed Mosh had to stoop quite a bit to fit inside.

"Time, well, it's a lot like a river. What happens upstream defines what will happen downstream," he began. As he spoke, the machine began to levitate and the view of the Time Plaza outside suddenly vanished, leaving only a nondescript swirl of colors in its place.

"It's easy to think of a river as being simple. Like, uh-huh, big deal, it's just water moving down the path of least resistance," Ravi said. "Divert the path, and it flows somewhere else. But there's a whole world in a river. Think about all the things that live up in there, and the sediment along the banks. And it doesn't just flow in one direction, no. You can have eddies and counter-currents along the way. Most of that is natural, and it's the Supreme Kai of Time's job to preserve that natural flow."

"Way I heard it," Mosh added, "she used to do it all by herself, for millions of years."

"Sometimes the flow gets choked off in places, or diverted where it isn't supposed to go," Ravi went on. "She can set things right--don't ask me how-- but even setting things right can have unwanted side-effects. It's like using a squeegee to clean up spilled water. You can shove the spill around, but a little of it always goes off where you don't want it to go. So you have to go back and shove that part too, and so on."

"Okay, but how does fighting figure into it?" Luffa asked.

"Same way fighting figures into everything else," Mosh said. "The really big changes usually involve some kind of conflict. Wars, invasions, duels, revolutions. The Time Fragments are leftover moments from a spill. The little ones aren't hard to deal with, but the big ones? Now, those have enough conflict in 'em that they could escalate. But if we defuse those conflicts--the hard way-- then it keeps them from breaking out and contaminating the rest of the timeline."

"Not bad," Ravi said. "I didn't know you knew so much about Time Fragments, Mosh."

"Took a training course at the annex, that's all," Mosh said.

The view from the canopy had changed once again, and they appeared to have arrived at a rocky wasteland. Ravi used the controls to unlock the hatch, but Mosh shoved it open, as he was anxious to get outside and stand up straight.

"This looks like the place on Earth where I fought Vegeta," Luffa said.

"The Gizard Wasteland," Mosh said. "Lot of PQ's go down here. You got assigned to a mission here?"

"Yeah," Luffa said. "Vegeta and Nappa invaded Earth, and I guess they were supposed to lose, but someone tried to rig the fight."

"I hadn't seen anything about that," Mosh said. He shared a concerned look with Ravi. "Stay on your toes, you hear me? This might be a little different than what we're used to."

"Relax," Ravi said. "We're strong enough to handle this, or the robots wouldn't have authorized us to go on this mission. You just chill out with the time machine, Luffa. This shouldn't take long. Ooh, speak of the devil."

Both men's scouters suddenly chirped, and yellow characters appeared in the eyepieces, though Luffa couldn't make out the readings. Mosh pointed to the southeast. "Got three bogies coming in from this side. Fourth one behind that rocky formation out there."

"Setting up an ambush, maybe?" Ravi suggested.

"Mm-hm. Let's take out his crew first," Mosh said, "and see how he reacts."

Luffa sat down in the shadow of the time machine and made herself comfortable. There was something pleasant about seeing them work, and that made it easier for her to stay on the sidelines and take it in. She recognized the "crew" as more of the Saibamen she had fought in her previous mission. Mosh and Ravi defeated them with ease.

"Piece of cake," Ravi said as they flew back to the time machine. "The robots who handle the PQ database figure out when and where to send us, and all we have to do is defeat the enemies. In this case, looks like it was just some rogue Saibamen. No trouble for us, but if they ran loose in this Time Fragment for long enough, they could cause trouble for the Earth."

"That'd be something," Mosh said. "Imagine a Saibaman taking over the whole planet."

"What about their leader?" Luffa asked. She could still sense the ki of the fourth one. Whoever it was, they hadn't moved from their hiding place.

"Yeah, I guess he wasn't in league with those Saibamen after all," Mosh said. "Might be a coincidence. We should go check it out."

But before they could move out, their scouters chirped again, and Luffa could sense the enemy approaching. "Looks like he's not waiting around," Ravi said. "I can't recognize the ki of this one. It's like an Earthling's, but... different somehow."

"What would an Earthling be doing out here alone?" Luffa asked, but there was no time for anyone to answer. Their mysterious foe suddenly appeared right in front of them, his massive form blocking out the mid-day sun.

"What the--?" Mosh said.

"M-master Chiaotzu?" Ravi asked.

Luffa didn't recognize him until Ravi said the name. She had briefly fought alongside a band of Earthling warriors during one of her Time Patrol missions. There, the one called Chiaotzu was the smallest of their number. His bone-white skin was interrupted only by a pair of red spots on his cheeks, and between that and his ominous thousand-meter stare, he had seemed more like a mythical creature than a flesh-and-blood humanoid.

But here, in this time fragment, Chiaotzu was much, much larger. He was at least as tall as Mosh, but with a much thicker musculature. His gaze was as inscrutable as ever, but this time there was malice in his expression, and a red gleam in his eyes.

"Watch out!" Luffa warned them, "he's going to--!"

The word "attack" never made it out of Luffa's mouth, as Chiaotzu unleashed a powerful wave of destructive energy from his body. She managed to block the brunt of it, but couldn't resist the force of the blast, and found herself tumbling backward. By the time she managed to right herself, she looked around and saw Ravi lying face down on the ground, while Mosh was in the air, fighting a desperate battle against this strange new Chiaotzu.

As Luffa rushed to Ravi's side, she spared a moment of concern for their time machine, but then she spotted it in the same place they had left it. She supposed that the Time Patrol had designed it for these kinds of battles, but all that mattered was that there would be a way to get Ravi to safety if it came to that.

"He's been possessed!" Luffa said breathlessly as she knelt down at Ravi's side. "I've seen this before on other missions, but it looks like it's transformed him somehow."

"Luffa, you've got to... get out of here," Ravi said. "He's too strong. Taught me... everything I know... Mosh can't hold him off for long."

He was right. Luffa could tell that, in spite of Mosh's valiant effort, that he was outmatched, and it was only a matter of time. She decided the best thing to do would be to load Ravi in the time machine where he would be relatively safe. But when she tried to scoop him up in her arms, she found it nearly impossible to move. It was similar to Guldo's paralysis technique, including the rising panic Luffa felt as she struggled in vain against it.

"Luffa, hurry!" Ravi gasped.

"I... I-can't!" Luffa grunted. All she could manage was to lift her head up to see the battle overhead. Mosh was clutching his arm, and Chiaotzu raised his index finger. A bright light appeared at the tip, and it seemed that he was ready to deliver the final blow...

NEXT: Menace of the Mega-Chiaotzu!

#dragon ball #fanfiction #lssjluffafic #luffa #captain ginyu #jeice #guldo #trunks #supreme kai of time #ravi #mosh #chiaotzu #toki toki city #namek #earth #jayncho #finally got the fic synced up between tumblr and ao3

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all-things-are-nothing-to-me · 4 years

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Descending into Madness An Anarchist-Nihilist Diary of Anti-Psychiatry

Just sayin’... The opinions expressed in this text represent no other than my own. My position against psychiatry is based on my own personal experience and should not be taken as an authority on the subject. Psychiatry, medications, and or psychiatric incarceration is considered helpful by some, and I wish them the very best experience with it.

But also... To the ‘freaks’, the ‘weirdos’, the ‘delinquents’, and the unruly... To those who embrace these words like daggers drawn against civility, To the insubordinate youth who refuse to tranquilize their play with meds, To those who riot in the asylums, and those who dare to escape from them...

Let the moonlight illuminate our iconoclasm, witches and savage animals spellbinding fire in the night, for the destruction of society, with the courage of unmedicated confrontation.

Any society that you build will have its limits. And outside the limits of any society, unruly and heroic tramps will wander with their wild and virgin thought — those who cannot live without planning ever new and dreadful outbursts of rebellion! I shall be among them!” — Renzo Novatore

I’m sittin’ at a big round table with about three nurses and two doctors. My eyes are sensitive to the light cus I haven’t slept in days. A nurse directly beside me has been gently nodding at me with the same look of concern for about an hour. My vision keeps blurring and then re-focusing. My hands are slightly trembling. I’ve been fighting the urge to lay my head down since I sat down. It appears this awkward meeting is almost over, and I have some papers to sign. The doctor who has been talkin’ since I got here is still talkin’ and I admit, I haven’t really been paying much attention. Finally the talking stops and everyone stands up. The nurse beside me helps me up by my arm. I start to feel dizzy. We begin walking down a long hallway and eventually enter a room. Another nurse in the room greets me with a pillow, a blanket, and a pill to “help with rest”. Before sittin’ down on the bed I’ve been assigned, a nurse calmly requests my belt and shoe laces. I comply and decide while I’m up I might as well take a shit before I go to sleep. About five seconds after my ass hits the toilet seat I hear a commotion - frantic pounding and demands to unlock the bathroom door. Confused and startled, I jump up, trip over my pants, and unlock the door. Apparently I’m not allowed to lock the bathroom door - or have it totally closed while I’m in there. I quickly finish shitting in plain view of a nurse and walk back to bed. I notice a different nurse has pulled up a chair right beside it and sits down with a clipboard and pen. I lay down and try to get comfortable while accepting the awkward close watch by this nurse beside me. As I start drifting off to sleep I reflect on everything that’s goin’ on. Oh that’s right. Earlier today I tried to hang myself in my apartment and this is my first night in a psych ward.

**** INDIANAPOLIS, March 18 th 2018 — Resource Treatment Center Riot Nearly a dozen Indianapolis police officers were called to respond Wednesday night to a riot at a juvenile psychiatric treatment and addiction facility on the city’s east side.

Eleven officers were dispatched to 1404 S. State Avenue just before 11 p.m. Wednesday on a report of a disturbance at the facility. The location is home to the Resource Treatment Center juvenile psychiatric facility, as well as Options Transitional Living, which provides sober housing for homeless or at-risk youth.

Police arrived to find that a group of juvenile residents had done more than $50,000-worth of damage to the facility and assaulted four staff members. Officers took nine juveniles ranging in age from 13-17 into custody on preliminary charges of vandalism, rioting, battery and disorderly conduct.

****

During my time at this psychiatric prison I was subjected to what’s called ‘one on ones’ which basically means I’m at risk to myself and therefore require 24 hour observation by staff. Two different nurses watched me shit, sleep, cry in my sleep, and eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I was required to take meds and a sleep aid everyday. I had face-to-face therapy once a day. I was only allowed one 15 minute phone call per day. I wasn’t allowed outside at all. I was told to “set anchor” because the faculty had no intentions on releasing me “anytime soon”.

All the reasons I was originally depressed took a backseat to this new horror show I found myself in. Everyone in my ward talked about one day gettin’ out, despite being told they would “never make it on the outside”. I couldn’t help but notice the striking similarities to incarceration at a prison for criminals. This was a prison. The more I heard stories of attempted escape, violent physical repression, and hopeless isolation, the more I realized this was not a place to ‘get well’, nor any hospital I ever been to. These prison guards wore scrubs, enforced order with chemical warfare and physical restraint jackets. “The hole” was the padded room. Those who resisted were tackled to the hard floor causing cuts and bruises. And to the nurses and doctors, we were all just “case files” or “subjects” to be talked down to and humiliated. We were in their world now and it was their rules.

“We need a program of psychosurgery and political control of our society. The purpose is physical control of the mind. Everyone who deviates from the given norm can be surgically mutilated. The individual may think that the most important reality is his own existence, but this is only his personal point of view. This lacks historical perspective. Man does not have the right to develop his own mind. This kind of liberal orientation has great appeal. We must electrically control the brain. Some day armies and generalswill be controlled by electrical stimulation of the brain.” - Dr. Jose Delgado, a Spanish professor of neurophysiology and author of the book ‘Physical Control of the Mind: Toward a Psychocivilized Society’

The era of institutionalized ‘care’ for those with ‘mental illnesses’ began somewhere around the 19th century with heavy support from the state. Public asylums were built in Britain after the passing of the 1808 County Asylums Act. This created an upsurge of asylums being built everywhere. These asylums were known for inmates havin’ to live in filthy conditions with bars, chains, and handcuffs.

The Lunacy Act 1845 was known to have changed the status of ‘mentally ill’ people to ‘patients’ who required treatment. This led to the eventual chemical treatment of people as ‘medical patients’ – despite the fact that lab tests, X-rays, and brain scans have never verified psychiatric disorders as medical diseases or brain damage. Over time, this inspired the emergence of psychiatric medical experiments on ‘patients’ in order to chemically ‘cure’ their ‘disorders’. The 20th century saw an explosion of psychiatric drugs. The first anti-psychotic drug, Chlorpromazine (brand names: Thorazine, Largactil, Hivernal, and Megaphen) was first synthesized in France in 1950.

Psychiatry, asylums, and prescribed drugs contributed heavily to reinforcing social order and individual submission through fear. As the years went on psychiatry and asylums expanded, re-defining and strengthening the power of state repression and civilized control.

Along with this came an ever-expanding culture of publicly calling out those who were considered ‘disturbed’ or ‘mentally ill’. The first to be targeted were those who didn’t fit the narrowly defined behavioral expectations of society. In the 18th to early 20th century, individuals assigned female at birth were often institutionalized for damn near everything including unpopular opinions, social unruliness or a politicized refusal to be controlled by patriarchal society. Other individuals of various assigned identities who sexually deviated from hetero-normativity were institutionalized and considered “confused” and in need of being converted.

One major marketing scheme deployed by the pharmacology industry was the social construction of an ideal emotional state that every ‘normal’ individual was expected to experience. Today this same ideal can be found everywhere – from televised entertainment to billboard advertisements and so on. The ‘happy’ and ‘depressed’ binary was used to create social pressure leading people to feel isolated or out of place for not happily accepting the conditions of society on a daily basis. Being “sad all the time” was, and still is frowned upon and ridiculed – regardless of its complex nature and the reasons behind it.

Despite being emotionally fluid by nature, the individual human (animal) is expected to fulfill the civilized role of positivist supremacy. This normalized obsession with positivity plays a key role in suppressing emotional responses of outrage to the multitude of oppressive experiences. The obsession with - and normalization of - positivist performance also encourages people to overlook the deep-seated trauma caused by civilization on a daily basis. Everything from the fear of flying, car wrecks, workplace injuries, to being late on bill payments – all examples of fears attributed to trauma. But because civilized life requires wage-slavery and commitment to continue, these forms of trauma are trivialized and written off - usually followed by something like “that’s life” or “it is what it is”.

As techno-industrial society advances, new laws are constructed to create new definitions of ‘criminality’. This means there is an ever-narrowing idea of legalism. The same can be said for psychiatry. As more labels and identities for ‘disorders’ are created, the pharmacology industry expands. And as the conditions of capitalist, industrial society continue to worsen, more misery becomes available for exploitation with the sale of “feel good” prescriptions.

Under capitalism, where there are ‘correctional’ facilities, there is a profit motive to keep them filled. Where there are ‘inmates’ to fill those institutions, there is financial gain or cheap labor. And where there is any potential for social unrest, there is an ideology and identity to categorically define an unruly individual as ‘anti-social’. Society turns ‘disorders’ into categorical identities assigned to those it considers ‘undesirable’ in order to reinforce the social conditions that pressure people into behavioral uniformity.

Today, within the realm of identity politics, psychiatric-assigned identities garner social capital where ever victimhood is glorified for social benefit. As with any form of identity politics, I have seen many individuals exploit psychiatric identities by brandishing them as reasons to rid themselves of responsibility for their actions. And as this plays out in the all-too-familiar social cannibalism of identity politics, individuals personalize these psychiatric- assigned identities and create inverted hierarchies of social entitlement.

Ultimately, a new identity-based movement is formed, gaining media recognition and becomes assimilated into the broader prison of society.

****

Thursday, September 4, 2014 Riot at Central New York Psychiatric Center A dozen staff members were injured when several inmates started rioting in a kitchen area at the Central New York Psychiatric Center on Wednesday.

Four people were hospitalized for their injuries, authorities stated. The fight broke out at about 11:45 a.m., when five to six inmates started attacking staff in one of the kitchen areas using kitchen utensils as weapons, according to the state Correctional Officers & Police Benevolent Association. The inmates tried to fight their way into the mess hall.

At the same time, another fight broke out between inmates and staff on the floor above the kitchen, officials said. The emergency alarms were raised, and security personnel inside the facility were able to break up the two fights, with help from the state police.

****

After careful planning, I was released from psychiatric incarceration much sooner than originally set. The walls were closing in on me and the monotony of daily under-stimulation, medicated numbness, and confinement started breaking me down. Witnessing the prison cannibalism of infighting between incarcerated individuals, I began spiralling worse than I had prior to being there. On top of that, my two attempts to secretly organize a rebellion had failed miserably; the wards or ‘bunks’ were so small that an artificially constructed bond was easily created between most staff and patients. Snitching was heavily rewarded.

Nobody wanted “any problems”. So instead I turned to another method of emancipation; using my own high school knowledge of psychology to convince my therapist I was merely suffering from “a broken heart” due to a “recent romantic breakup”.

Despite the full spectrum of my hatred for society, the life I was living at the time, and the complex emotional storm that raged in my head on a daily basis, I was able to convince my therapist and the other nurses I was just upset over a breakup. The humiliation of having to role-play such a lie paled in comparison to my desire for freedom from that place. Released into my mom’s custody, I was required to continue taking my medications three times a day and seeing a counsellor once a week.

Against the wards request, I went back to living in my apartment. I could see where the police had went through all my notebooks as well as a pocket book of phone numbers. The noose I worked so hard to construct and attach to a wooden beam along my ceiling was gone. To this day I don’t know if my landlord took it or if the police did. My rent was overdue indicated by the notes in my mailbox. Luckily I was working a self-managed painting job at the time so I couldn’t get fired. I could start back up the next week.

That night I masturbated for the first time in what felt like years. But I couldn’t orgasm. The next day I called the doctor who dealt my meds. According to him, my impossible orgasm was common with people on psychiatric medication. A week went by and I continued to feel numb. Nothing was interesting to me. I often found myself watching the hands on clocks move or staring out my window at passing cars. I didn’t feel sad. But I didn’t feel good either. I just existed.

After about a month of being out of the psych ward, I decided to stop taking my meds. The hassle of getting them filled as well as keepin’ up with taking them everyday just wasn’t worth it. And neither was feeling numb. I didn’t know what would happen. Would they find out and send the police to take me back? A couple weeks went by without meds and I started to feel slight changes. I was scared but prepared for the hellish withdrawals I had heard all about. I got dizzy a bit, and some headaches but nothing more. Soon I stopped gettin’ calls from my counsellor. I expected her to be upset and leave me angry voicemails. It never happened. Eventually I felt my appetite change and I could experience emotional reactions to things easier and more frequently. And I finally had an orgasm!

For the next couple years, I reflected on those experiences and began exploring the origins of my suicidal thoughts, the origins of the morbid depression that caused them, as well as the consumerist life I lived as a wage-slave law-abiding citizen.

****

A Riot on Thanksgiving Morning 2016 at Springfield Hospital Center (a regional psychiatric hospital and former slave plantation located in Sykesville, Maryland) In the early-morning hours of Thanksgiving Day, Catherine Starkes and April Savage huddled in an office with several other employees at the Springfield Hospital Center in Carroll County as patients rioted around them.

Starkes and Savage said patients threw chairs, knocked over file cabinets and tried to break into the staff's Plexiglas-enclosed refuge. The patients poured cooking oil over the floors, making them slippery. One patient tried to crawl into the office through the suspended ceiling, Starkes recalled.

It was like no other night she could remember in 22 years of working with dangerously mentally ill patients at Maryland state hospitals.

"They wanted to take over the unit. They seized the unit," she said.

****

“What we say is the truth is what everybody accepts. ...I mean, psychiatry: it's the latest religion. We decide what's right and wrong. We decide who's crazy or not. I'm in trouble here. I'm losing my faith.” -Dr. Railly from the movie “12 Monkeys”

Similar to religion, psychiatry assumes a powerful role in defining “right” or “wrong” in terms of “normal” vs “abnormal” behavior. The standardization of a particular, socially expected behavior is essential for creating categories of people defined in terms of their contribution to the collective success of society. With psychology as a basis for analytically outlining ‘problems’ and suggesting “potential cures”, mass society becomes dependent on its authority for deciding who is “normal” and who isn’t. Certain behavioral characteristics unique to an individual become outlawed in order to maintain this social conformity.

Speaking from my own experience, psychiatry and all its theories, roles, and chemical prescriptions at best aims to merely manage ‘symptoms’ of ‘disorders’ - not eliminate the sources of their creation.

By ‘symptoms’ I am referring to any set of behaviors or emotional responses that indicate an individual’s struggle to conform to societal expectations or ‘normal’ behavior.

By ‘disorders’ I am referring to the set of behaviors or emotional responses that have been selected and condemned by society, and therefore declared a ‘mental illness’ by the authority of psychiatry.

By ‘sources’ I am referring to any and all prisons, societal forms of coercion, and civilized society – all of which pressure individual subservience and ideological conformity.

The conflict of interest in ‘curing’ the ‘mentally ill’ becomes apparent when acknowledging that successful cures to particular behaviors and emotional responses would require the abolition of civilized society all together - the same civilized society that creates trauma, followed by the concept of mental illness and subsequently a ‘solution’ via many forms of emotional anaesthesia.

Another factor of social control built into psychiatry is its ability to distort and control dissenting information. Social systems that require the subordination of individuals are always sharpening their ability to suppress or demonize information – especially information derived from rebellious experience. When it is individuals themselves who are considered living examples of this information, those seeking total control will portray them in such a way that renders the nature of their rebellion a mere product of mental illness. For example, the Soviet Union responded to rebels with psychiatric wards called “Psikhushkas”. One of the first Psikhushkas was a psychiatric prison in the city of Kazan. In 1939 it was transferred to the secret police. Psychiatric incarceration was used in response to political demonstrations and attacks. It was common practice for soviet psychiatrists in Psikhushka hospitals to diagnose those who rebelled against soviet authority with schizophrenia.

Just as religious authority figures speak of purging people of their sins and demons, psychiatry seeks to purge people of their ‘sickness’ and ‘bad’ habits. In the church of psychiatry, only those most committed to social conformity (or emotional suppression) can enter the heavens of being socially recognized as ‘sane’ or ‘normal’. Normal or civilized behavior is rewarded with social capital and easier access to survival resources. And in the eyes of those who fear unbridled freedom, without the church of mental psychiatric authority, ‘the masses’ just might descend into madness...

****

Sept 5 2016 John George Psychiatric Hospital Riot Nurses at Alameda County’s embattled mental hospital say three patients tried to incite a riot overnight and escape the facility. Staff members are blaming chronic overcrowding at John George Psychiatric Hospital’s emergency room. It’s the latest in a string of troubling incidents at the hospital uncovered by 2 Investigates.

Nurses – who didn’t want to be identified for fear of jeopardizing their jobs – tell 2 Investigates that two male patients and one woman demanded to be discharged from John George’s Psychiatric Emergency Services (PES) department Sunday night. But when they were refused, they turned violent, according to staff.

The patients allegedly tried to encourage others to help them push the facility doors open to escape.

****

“The Law, social expectation, and psychiatric tradition and practice point to coercion as the profession’s paradigmatic characteristic. Accordingly, I define psychiatry as the theory and practice of coercion, rationalized as the diagnosis of mental illness and justified as medical treatment aimed at protecting the patient from himself and society from the patient.” - Psychiatrist turned anti-psychiatry, Thomas S Szasz, M. D.

While reflecting on my experience with psychiatry, including being on three different medications and my stay in the ward, I started asking myself questions I had never thought to ask before: what are the social conditions contributing to my feelings of misery? What type of behavior is characteristic of ‘mental illness’ and ‘normal’ functioning? Who enforces these definitions as universal truths to begin with? Is it the same psychiatric authority that at one point considered homosexuality a mental illness – then changed their minds in 1973?

I couldn’t help but notice that despite all the therapy, meds, and psychiatric hospitality the world outside my head was still the same. Poverty still dominated my hood, rich billionaires were still playin’ golf while the government continued bombing other countries. Millions of non-human animals were still bein’ mutilated in slaughterhouses on a daily basis, and the environment was still bein’ devastated by industrial expansion. I still needed to wage-slave away to pay my rent. And like everyone else, I needed to do this until I got too old and eventually live out my days in a nursing home. But somehow I was supposed to be ‘happy’ - or at least apathetically accepting of it all without a fuss. Obedience without incident. Without question. Or as the others in the ward had said to me “no problems”.

Currently in my life, I am still angry, still depressed, and still sometimes suicidal. But rather than seeing these things as what’s broken about me, I see them as a reflection of how fucked up the world is around me. I find little things to help me channel the anger, depression, and suicidal thoughts. I exercise, practice mixed martial arts, enjoy a walk in the woods at night. I star-gaze from park benches, rooftops, and moving freight trains. I indulge in stolen food and cherish the excitement of criminal activity. Managing my emotions is a daily activity coupled with observation and growth. I listen to the stories of others and learn from their experiences. I listen to my emotions and source their origins, making it easier to understand my needs and desires. My emotions – my madness - manifesting as anger, depression, and so on remain sharp and act as the best tools for understanding the effects of this imprisoning society on my well-being.

My disposition lacks evidence of being broken or brain damaged – if anything, it would suggest the contrary. My emotional state is a complex response to the anxiety that occurs when recognizing society for what it is – a prison propagating itself as ‘normal’ life. And integrated within this prison is a web of altered realities that materialize the logic of control and domination: Wage-slavery masquerading as productivity and personal responsibility. Coerced submission and obedience to law and order in “the land of the free”. Pictures of happy cows on packages of mutilated body parts. Borders, bio-technology, cyberspace communities of friends interacting with the emotional vacancy of digital communication.

And it is here, in this same social prison society, that the word insanity is used to describe an individual person rather than industrial civilization - the epitome of mechanized social control.

“The stars up close to the moon were pale; they got brighter and braver the farther they got out of the circle of light ruled by the giant moon” ― Ken Kesey, from the movie One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

I believe deep down all people are ‘insane’ - not in terms of mental illness - but in terms of individual, unique differences that remain defiantly incompatible to behavioral order. In society, some people hide these differences better than others. And many people I have come across express frustration with having to keep themselves locked up inside, aching to break out. The fear of being socially labelled insane or crazy keeps people passive and submissive. But some people experience difficulty assimilating themselves. And while society attempts to frantically control and eliminate certain undesirable people and behaviors, natural responses to environmental conditions continue to produce both.

If one were to really examine the social interactions between individuals, one can see the subtle tip-toeing of animals peeking from within the wardrobe of humanism. It is the fear of being too loud, too angry, too sad, too imaginative – the fear of allowing oneself to exist at full bloom – that incarcerates the animal individual. It is the fear of exhibiting any personal qualities or characteristics that would violate the boundaries of socially expected behavior. Breaking the laws of psychiatry could be punishable by chemical injection, imprisonment, or even death.

This fear also plays a vital role in creating an obsession with relying on institutional specialization rather than peer to peer support. This obsession is normalized when, in response to someone reaching out for emotional support, friends suggest ‘professional help’ as if to surrender themselves ineffective by default. It says something about the nature of one’s confidence, ability, and will to support another when that support is often outsourced to an elite group of ‘professionals’. I’m not tryin’ to say that every individual has the capacity to support others at all times: I am suggesting an examination of the inferiority complex internalized by people in the face of institutions, and how individuals often find themselves too busy obeying the demands of capitalism, or too distracted by consumerism to make time for supporting their loved ones – let alone themselves.

If one were to examine society as a whole, one can see how over-simplified, quick-fix solutions to complex problems is built into it. If one were to examine this even on a personal level, one can see how everything about industrial society reduces personal time to the point where one often neglects their own emotional health. Against the demands of technological addiction and wage-slavery, making time for supporting one’s self and or those they care about is, however under-rated, nothing less than an act of personal revolt. “You need professional help” is often the quick response to an individual simply looking for support from close friends. Not all people (including myself) enjoy being pathologized or assigned a diagnosis like a broken machine. It is this ‘professional help’ that replaces intimate support with capitalism where someone struggling is treated as a profitable ‘case file’ and dealt a bottle of pills.

From a vibrant friend struggling with a unique history of complex emotional experiences, to a patient branded with an over-simplistic set of psychiatric identities – the individual becomes merely a unit of diagnostic measurement.

Diagnoses act as identity configurations defined in terms of symptom-based sameness. These identity assignments are constructed by the specialists of psychiatric authority, and are enforced socially by those who uphold its power. The same way that leftists are quick to use statist terminology to publicly label and shame “undesirables” or those unwanted by The Movement (for example, using the word “terrorist” to describe proponents of anarchist attack), they are equally quick to call people ‘mentally ill’, or ‘toxic’- demanding they seek ‘professional’ help. Perhaps without realizing it, leftists socially reinforce the validity of the state and psychiatric authority by reducing the complexity of individual behavior to mere psychiatric constructs and moral condemnation.

Psychiatry provides a comforting sense of order in the refusal to accept the chaotic nature of behavior. By asserting psychiatric terminology and morality many leftists seek control over social interactions with the intent to sterilize and homogenize them. This attempt at behavioral uniformity goes hand in hand with the treatment of individuals as members of monolithic, identity-based groupings. Behavioral uniqueness and variety are often discouraged or condemned when they don’t fit neatly constructed scripts. One’s behavior or emotional expression could be trivialized by being socially called out as ‘problematic’ - a label which itself requires the conformity of a generalized consensus to define and enforce.

Society and all its defenders require the dam of psychiatry to subordinate and control the tidal waves of individualist variety and social unrest. I can only imagine what would happen if the mechanisms of control failed on an individual level - if freedom of emotional expression took aim at the crystal castles of psychiatric authority, shattering the illusion of sterilized permanence. One after another an individual cannonball weakens the continuity of the structure, an ungovernable individual compromises the strength of collectivized subservience.

****

Jan 31, 2006 Riot at the Riverview Hospital For Children and Youth Five male patients at a state-run psychiatric hospital for children face rioting charges after they ripped out a phone line and tried to steal a worker's car keys before barricading themselves in a room over the weekend, a state official and other sources said Monday.

The incident at Riverview Hospital For Children and Youth occurred less than a week after employees protested over conditions in the facility, contending that the hospital is increasingly unsafe because of the volatile mix of patients.

Sources said that between 11 p.m. and midnight Sunday, a group of boys in the hospital's 11-bed Lakota Unit came out of their rooms and started confronting and arguing with staff. A male clinician and two female employees were assigned to the unit at the time.

Sources said the boys surrounded the man and tried to get him to turn over his keys but he refused. When one of the female workers tried to use the phone to call for help, the boys pulled the phone line out of the wall, sources said. The youths then barricaded themselves in a room and tried to smash a large exterior window, which broke off its hinge.

Sources said the boys intended to escape through the window but were stopped by a Connecticut Valley Hospital police officer who was called to the scene and was outside near the window .

Authorities would not release the names or ages of the boys involved. All face charges of inciting to riot, disorderly conduct, criminal mischief, unlawful restraint and threatening.

****

When, in expressing themselves, individuals let their emotions rupture the confines of psychiatric authority, and fan the flames of their contempt for social control, psychiatry begins to resemble the shell of a burnt out police car. If psychiatry is the agent enforcer of mental law and order - let it die along with every cop and agent of the state. As with identity politics, I refuse to participate in the use of psychiatric terminology when describing other individuals. As with all other socially constructed assignments, I reject psychiatric labels as they seek to limit the horizon of emotional complexity.

When, in expressing themselves, individuals become wild with nihilist hostility toward all ideological roles and identities, what is left of a society without individual conformity? What is ‘male’ or ‘female’ without being fixed to an aesthetic or performative role? What is ‘black’ or ‘white’ without the social construction of race? What is the sane/insane binary without the commanding authority of psychiatry? What is social law and order without anyone willing to obey?

My anarchy is found in the obliteration of these social constructs and the rejection of their ‘social contract’ that universalizes their false existence. I use the phrase social contract because that is precisely what accepting these identity assignments is. It surprises me to see such little prisoner solidarity with those incarcerated at psychiatric facilities. I imagine total anarchy looking like all prisons - including every manifestation of the educational-industrial complex, every zoo, and every asylum – being burned to the ground.

****

On New Year’s Day, 2018, 10 Children as Young as Age 12 Riot and Escape from Strategic Behavioral Health Center in South Carolina During the New Year’s Day incident, patients broke furniture to make weapons. The state report suggest Strategic staff missed warning signs that patients had planned to escape. They did not question residents who were wearing multiple layers of clothing that would allow them to change what they were wearing when they left the hospital.

In a less than five-hour span beginning in the late afternoon, there were seven “Code Purple” incidents in which workers are alerted to trouble. A state investigator reviewed video showing patients going from room to room, throwing a trash can, tearing up paper and tearing schedules off the walls. When one employee arrived, according to the report, he heard loud noises and cussing and saw trash all over the floor in the hallway. Patients had barricaded themselves in a room and had weapons he described as boards with six-inch screws.

“There was no staff trying to get into the room and he was told by staff, ‘They have weapons. Don’t go in,’” records say. “The nurse described the situation as a ‘riot, complete breakdown.’”

By the time police arrived, the south Charlotte psychiatric hospital had descended into chaos. Patients at Strategic Behavioral Center — some wielding wooden boards — attacked one worker, barricaded themselves in a room and escaped through a broken window.

**** For many years I paraded psychiatry as a valuable scientific instrument for understanding the inner workings of human behavior. I no longer find it useful after learning to recognize people as complex beings with unique emotional responses to this civilized nightmare. I have come to recognize psychiatry as, at best, another form of identity politics that ultimately attempts to force the infinite complexity of emotional expression into rigid categorical boxes.

Individual people are far more than ‘bipolar’, ‘psychotic’, etc could accurately express. While a person may experience combinations of emotions socially identified by a psychiatric category, their emotional state can not be summarized or represented by any list of fixed terminology.

My refusal to define a person by the emotional struggles they experience is similar to the reasons I refuse to identity people struggling with intoxication as ‘addicts’. An individual's struggle in coping with society is complex and unique. Psychiatric labels and identities are tools of the state – an entity which I reject. As a tool of civilization, psychiatry creates alienation and violence by treating people found to be emotionally unfit for society as ‘broken’, and therefore socially inferior. I personally refuse to disregard an individual’s struggle for survival by assigning them a psychiatric identity that puts blame on them as ‘mentally ill’ - rather than focusing attention on industrial society itself. Like prisons for ‘criminals’, the ‘correctional’ facility of the psychiatric ward seeks to condition submission through coercion and confinement. Solving or curing ‘mental illness’ in the societal sense often ends up becoming a re-defined ability to condemn, suppress, or sterilize emotions.

Like all governments, presidents, and authority, psychiatry never gave me freedom. Assigned psychiatric labels didn’t help me – they only filled me with an internalized sense of victimhood and inferiority. Medication didn’t ‘cure’ or ‘fix’ me – only damaged me, numbing me to my own senses in order to create an emotional void between me and the fuckery of civilized life. So instead, with nihilist celebration I descend into madness, taking aim at social order and civilization. With armed animalism I realize now that there was nothing to fix - my natural contempt for domestication and social control reminds me that I was never ‘broken’ to begin with.

With maniacal laughter I mock the conventional standardization of human behavior. I reject the authorities of psychiatry, their holy book (The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM–5)), and their prisons. I refuse to continue being a test subject for their ever-expanding pharmacotherapeutics. I am an individualist against the collectivized consensus used to materialize institutions of psychiatry. I am a nihilist - hostile to the ideological sane/insane binary and all social constructs that, with pathology, attempt to categorically subjugate individuality. I desire nothing less than a feral revolt against civilization. If civilization and psychiatry marry at the church of morality, then let my anarchy be a fiery black smoke that chokes their gospel of social control.

#anarcho nihilism #anti civ #green anarchy #individualist anarchism #nihilism #post leftism #prisoner support #flower bomb #anti-psychiatry

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darksunrising · 4 years

Text

Sola Gratia (2/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : General Audiences, no warning.

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 2/? (2452 words)

Author’s notes : Here’s part two ! I also updated part one to be a bit better, don’t hesitate to check it out ! (taglist at the end !)

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“I always thought it was a disputable likeness.”

“JE-sus FUCK-”, I spat out as I turned over, stumbling back from shock. How in the hell- I didn’t even hear a goddamn thing, which was concerning given how close he was standing behind me. An eyebrow elegantly arched at my profanity, he seemed to study my figure. I was suddenly very aware of how absolutely dreadful I probably looked.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think- I didn’t mean to break in- The door-”, I stammered, somehow unable to find any decent words.

A twinkle of amusement brightened his dark eyes, and he didn’t do me the mercy of saying anything to put me out of my misery. I took a deep breath, and awkwardly held out my hand for him to shake.

“I am Eris Cetero. I got caught in the storm, and saw light. I didn’t know where else to go. I would be eternally grateful for your hospitality, sir.”

A bit dazed that I was able to align so many coherent words, I didn’t even have the time to react when the man gently took my hand in his, and planted a light kiss on my knucles.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Doamna Cetero. I am Count Vlad Balaur, and welcome you into my home.”

I managed to thank him, by God knows what miracle. From the moment our eyes met, he had not moved his gaze, nor did I see him blink, now that I thought about it. A shiver ran down my spine, making me shudder.

“My, you must be freezing. Come, sit by the fire. Do you have anything dry to wear ?”

I shook my head as he led me to one of the sofas facing the hearth, a hand barely hovering over my back.

“My bag is in a sorrier state than I am”, I sheepishly admitted.

“Well, I might be able to find something for you”, he told me with a gentle smile.

“I couldn’t, really, I don’t want to impose-”, I started, but he dismissed my protest with a flick of the hand.

“Nonsense, I will have no one die of pneumonia in this house. Wait for me here, I will soon be back.”

He left the room in long paces, and I followed his tall silhouette as it disappeared into the halls. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t that. He did look somewhat close to the portrait, however. I looked up to study it further. The figure was certainly recognizable, tall, some form of nobility in the posture. He was a Count, after all. His hair was neatly laid in elegant black waves across his broad shoulders, so dark it was almost lost to the background. He was obviously younger in the portrait, but still carried as much poise as he did then.

The crackling of the fire almost covered the sound of the rain. A log broke in half in a flurry of embers. The flames licked at the charred wood, and I started to follow their ethereal dance in the darkness. Hugging my knees closer to my chest, I wondered if I shouldn’t drip somewhere else than the Count’s expensive-looking antique sofa. Found myself unable to move, anyway.

My curious host stepped back into the room, dragging me from my drowsiness. He had a pile of neatly folded clothes in hand, and what I assumed was a towel. He was still smiling, which, for some reason, made me a bit uneasy. I shook off the feeling. I mean, he was just an old eccentric man. A little weird at times, but who isn’t?

“I’m afraid you might find the style a bit dated, however, it’s warm and dry, which is what we are looking for, aren’t we?”

He laid the pile next to me, and took his leave, respectfully closing the door behind him. Unsure about what I should do, I still took a look at what he brought. The fabrics were soft, and felt luxurious. Dated indeed. A long wool skirt I just could have worn as a poncho, a thin linen shirt closed by a series of pearl buttons, and a jacket, matching the skirt both in style and warmth. after a sigh, I decided to peel my own clothing off my body. Cold water ran down my back as I slipped my shirt over my shoulders. I decided to keep my underwear, for legitimate and obvious reasons, and put on the outfit the count prepared for me. He even had thrown in a pair of socks and boots, which, curiously, were exactly my size. As I stood up and patted down the skirt, I caught my reflection in a window. There, I was ready to leave for the suffragette rally, whilst my husband slaves away at the vintage car factory. I spun around, and the skirt flared in a very satisfactory manner.

“Are you dressed ? May I come in ?”

The sudden knock on the door nearly made me lose my footing. I caught myself on the back of the sofa, and approved the request. The Count entered, pushing the door with his foot as the carried a wodden tray, holding a steaming kettle and delicate cups. He laid it on a small side table, and turned back towards me, clasping his hands together.

“Aren’t you feeling a tad better now ?”

“Much better, thank you. If I may ask, out of curiosity, where does this dress come from? It’s not very often people have that sort of clothing at home.”

“Well”, he started as he poured tea into a cup. “It is a family home, and I must admit I do not know everyone who ever lived here. It may have been my grandmother’s, or her mother’s.”

He invited me to sit, and handed me a cup, which I accepted gladly. It had a subtle, comforting cinnamon aroma The warmth of the cup was doing wonders for my almost purple hands, slowly regaining a human-like color.

“Eris…”, the Count enunciated, slightly rolling the ‘r’, almost to himself. “What an unusual name. You must have terribly interesting parents.”

“Oh, far worse. Historians”, I scoffed.

“Greek, dare I venture ?”

“Yes. They’re kind fo the reason I am here right now, in a way.”

“Please, indulge an old man.”

He seemed genuinely interested. I guess living in a mountain surrounded by huge “KEEP OUT” signs was bound to make anyone feel starved for any distraction. It was a bit of a challenge not sounding demented as I told him about my family. Strict, absent parents, very demanding concerning school work, insisting on me keeping up with their research. As they were interested in the Classical Greek world, I shifted my interest to the Balkans, which was shocking enough, and became almost disowning when I started a masters in medieval studies. I became a bit estranged to them after that terrible offense.

“Do you still study that field ?”

“Well”, I sighed. “I should hope so. I’m in my second year of doctorate on ‘Archaeological evidence for the conflictual relationships of Balkanic regions and the Ottoman Empire during the 15th century AD’.”

It had him laughing softly.

“That sound like quite some work”, he commented, a strange glimmer in his eye.

“It is. That’s why I had to take a break, coming here. I told myself I’d take advantage of it and work, maybe visit Targoviste. Turns out, I’d rather risk death by the mighty elements than do that.”

I tried to smile, but the weight in my chest started to come back. It lifted while I was running high on adrenaline, trying to escape my doom during the storm, but now that I was out of danger, it sure as hell was back. The Count had a strange look on his face, almost as he was trying to read my mind through my eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“You must be tired, after such an eventful day”, he softly told me. “Let’s prepare a guest room, shall we?”

He was right, by all accounts. I took a deep breath, and handed him my empty cup as he held out his hand for it. His fingers brushed against mine, just a second, yet long enough that it didn’t feel unintentional. He did nothing of it, and placed the cups back on the tray, before escorting me into the halls. As we left, he took hold of a small candelabra and had it lit over the fire.

We made our way through the lenghthy corridors, and I started undertanding just how huge the place was. Confusing. Labyrinthic, almost. I wondered how I would ever find my way without breadcrumbs, or a trusty ball of yarn. I started taking mental notes of some reference points. A weird cat in a painting here, a knight fighting a giant snail in the corner of a tapestry there, that sort of thing.

“Are you also interested in art, Lady Cetero ?”, the Count asked, semingly noticing my interest.

“A little. I’m afraid I connect better with pieces of armor and war apparatus in general, though. A bit of an influence from my thesis, I think”, I admitted.

“Ah, in this case, I have something I am fairly certain you will enjoy”, he announced, before taking a right into another corridor.

We passed a few doors, and stopped in front of a slightly larger one. He slipped a large iron ring out of his jacket’s pocket, holding dozens of different keys, some oranate, some rougher. Without much hesitation, which was impressive considering the sheer ammount of choice he had, he unlocked the door, and pushed it open, gallantly leaving me to enter.

The room was dark, yest I discerned a faint glimmer across the walls. As the Count stepped in, and lit torches on the walls, I almost couldn’t contain a squeal of excitement. On the wall opposite the door, a suit of armor was displayed on a mannequin. Intricately worked in gilted vegetal arabesque, the darkened iron still suffered indents and scrapes, and the golden sheen had flaked in some places. I ventured that whoever had worn this had very little understanding of the crime it was to ever put such incredible crafstmanship at risk on the battlefield. It was very reminiscent of the kind of battle gear I had studied in my first year, but I never saw a complete one, least of all in such an incredible state of conservation. The suit was surrounded by weapons of the same make, still bright and shiny, the incrustations of stones and pearls seeming almost alive in the flickering light of the flames. The other walls were all covered in an almost artistic display of a large variety of other weapons, which it seemed spanned across centuries and all the surrounding regions of the Balkans.

“This is...Absolutely incredible”, I managed to breathe out. “How did you come to have such a collection ? Even the museum in Bucharest doesn’t compete !”

“I am very interested in history, you see. Some of the pieces here were there before I was born”, he told me, stepping closer to the central figure of the room. “This armor has been in my family for generations.”

He looked somewhat nostalgic, eyes drifting along the glistening metal. He stood tall, and I couldn’t help but picture him in it, his silver hair back to the dark waves of his youth, sword in hand, covered in blood and dust, leading his men into battle against roaring, bloodthirsty waves of ennemies.

“I would love to take a better look at them tomorrow, if you don’t mind”, I asked, trying not to look so eager as I felt.

“It would be my pleasure, however, I will have to take most of the day to attend some... Urgent matters.”

I nodded along, and we left the room, me with a last longing look as the Count extinguished the torches, and locked the door. He then led me along a stone staircase, set in what I assumed to ba a small tower, as I glanced outside through the narrow windows. On the second story, the floors was made of dark wood, which looked a bit dull. I figured if he lived alone, he didn’t have much time to varnish the whole castle. As we walked, the boards creaked in a sinister way, that reverberated through the halls. I couldn’t help but shudder, and though I head a soft laughter from the Count, walking ahead of me.

He stopped to open a door, and entered before I did. It was a fairly large room, with a high ceiling, supported by large wodden beams. An iron chandelier hanged at Mid-height, which was still half a dozen feet above my head. A large fireplace was carved into the wall, which my host had somehow lit as I studied the rest of the room. Behind wooden pannels, a large canopy bed was set near one of the three windows that pierced the wall, opening to a view of the wind-swept valley.

The Count carefully removed the large bedspread, which had probably been collecting dust for a while, revealing divinely comfortable-looking covers and fluffy pillows. To be fair, I was so exhausted I would have slept on the floor with no second thought, had that been necessary.

“Make yourself at home. You will probably find something to change in the wardrobe, if you want. I will leave you this for tomorrow, should you wish to explore”, he told me as pulled the key-ring out of his pocket, and laid it on a large desk. “Have a restful night, Lady Cetero.”

Bowing his head slightly, he exited the room, leaving me alone if it weren’t for the presence still lingering inside. I figured there was a slight possibility that I really were deep into hypothermia, and hallucinating, or, more likely yet, that he was a ghost. I slipped into a nightgown, still feeling a bit like a gothic novel heroine. I wondered a second how I could ever find sleep with all the wonder, excitement and slight feeling of dread that filled my mind. However, as soon as I let the heavy blankets over me, sinking into the matress, everything went quiet, the faint sound of the rain and rumbling thunder slowly lulling me to sleep.

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Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock

Don’t hesitate to ask if you wanna be tagged !

#dracula #dracula bbc #dracula bram stoker #dracula castlevania #(i see him as like a combination of the two)#(like i love bbc but it lacks hair. gimme more luscious long hair )#fanfiction #dracula fanfic #fanfic #slow burn #gothic horror

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msjr0119 · 4 years

Text

Hold On

Epilogue

Nobody got injured at the Homecoming ball, they all get separated into different safe houses- for safety.

Riley and Drake had confirmed that they had feelings for each other, however Drake believed Riley should be with Liam. Heartbroken, she moves back to New York. Only keeping in touch with Hana, Maxwell and Olivia.

Riley meets lawyer, Nate Cooper and begins a relationship with him. In Cordonia, Drake begins to court Kiara.

Nine months after Riley had left Cordonia- there is a reunion, but not the reunion the friends had hoped for.

*Characters belong to Pixelberry*

If you are under 18 please do not read this series. If you do, you are consenting that you are over the age.

Series warnings: Suicide, domestic abuse, swearing, stabbing, smut 🍋. If any of these triggers affect you do not read!

Tags- @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs

I am so sorry it’s taken me forever to post this- I kind of got distracted 😜... For a Drake Stan, I hope the Liam stans can reassure me that I’ve done this series justice. Originally it was going to be a Driley series but somehow just swayed to Riam instead 🤣... It’s short but simple 😊Thank you to everyone who has read the series 😘

******

Ayah Rhys- our little miracle, she is beautiful, the true definition of Princess.

Liam has fallen asleep on the chair cradling her- he is such a doting father already. I know our country is eager to meet her, but we need this time to adjust to our new little family. I never thought I’d get a second chance at happiness, I suppose what they say is accurate ‘things come to those who wait.’ I’m so glad that I survived my suicide attempt- grateful for those people who saved me. Grateful for everything Leo and my friends have done me. Grateful that Liam could learn to love me again. He is not only a king, he is; my husband, the father to our daughter, but he is also my saviour. My family is complete, ‘hold on’- I did that and I have found my fairytale ending.

Taking the opportunity to have a shower, before the princess needed feeding- Riley looked at her body. The stretch marks appearing in front of her- wondering if they would disappear. Wondering if Liam would still find her attractive if not. If not they were a permanent positive scar- a scar that brought their baby into the world. A scar full of love. Returning to the room, she saw Liam place Ayah gently, in the cot.

“You look refreshed. And beautiful my Queen.” Placing a passionate kiss on her lips, he still couldn’t believe that he had a family- one that he had always wished for.

“Are you ready for the stampede to enter the room? Maxwell keeps texting me, eager to meet her. Get it over and done with then we can enjoy our babymoon?” Liam laughed, he wanted to keep his daughter all to himself and Riley- but as she said the sooner they all meet her the quicker they would leave- or so he thought.

“Ayah, my mini blossom. Uncle max loves you already my little doll.”

“Max stop suffocating her!” Panic ran through the new moms veins.

“Sorry blossom, but she is just so adorable. I can’t stop kissing her. She’s going to break some hearts.” The proud uncle stared at her, she had hold of his finger- which filled his heart with joy.

“Beaumont pass her here.”

“Liv? Are you feeling okay? You want a hold of a baby?” Riley said sarcastically, Duchess Olivia wasn’t the type to be maternal, so for her to ask to hold the baby shocked everyone.

“Riley, I will hold her at a distance then pass her over to someone else.” As Olivia held her, the group noticed a small smile creep on her face.

“Is that a smile I see?”

“No Hana! I’m a Nevrakis we don’t smile.”

Riley and Liam looked at each other, laughing- she was in denial. A while later, Drake was holding Ayah- Liam knew it would be tough on him after what had happened. He encouraged Riley to talk to him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, she’s beautiful Ri. Congratulations.”

“She’s going to love her Uncle Drake and Aunt Hana.”

“Do you ever wonder what our child would have looked like? I love Hana, but that thought still ponders.”

“I think about it every day. I’ll never forget about him or her. I’ll always love you Drake.”

“I’ll always love you too. But we would have never worked would we?” He winked at her.

“No, you’re too grumpy.” She nudged his shoulder. “And you’re too bossy- Queen bossypants.”

“Why isn’t Hana drinking the alcohol that Max has snuck in by the way? Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“We didn’t want to rain on your parade. But yes, myself and Hana are expecting a child.”

“I’m so happy for you both.” They both hugged each other, happy that they had both been able to move on and start new chapters in their lives.

*****

It had been a month since Riley had given birth. Today was the day for the big Cathedral wedding. The day that the whole of Cordonia had been waiting for. With the help from Maxwell, Riley had been exercising and doing yoga- she soon lost the excess baby fat. Ana De Luca had sent her a designer wedding dress from her collection and was grateful that the Queen had accepted the gift.

Walking down the aisle with Bertrand and Maxwell again, they gave her away to her husband.

“It’s not every day you get to marry the love of your life again.” Liam held her tight, baby blues focusing on each other- both sparkling.

“I could say the same. But this time we have Ayah celebrating with us.”

“By the power vested in me by the kingdom of Cordonia, I now pronounce you Husband and Wife again. The King and Queen Of Cordonia. May this blessed union be sealed with a kiss.”

Liam cupped Riley’s cheeks, placing a soft kiss on her lips- hearing the cheers and euphoric atmosphere encouraged Liam to deepen it into a more passionate kiss, as he did on their first wedding. It was deja vu. Exiting the cathedral, the three of them spent some time, talking to the people of Cordonia who all congratulated them. The country as a whole were thrilled to finally meet their King, Queen and Princess as a family.

*****

Six months since the cathedral wedding, Riley and Liam settled into parent hood - Riley was still on maternity leave, but had a duty to complete today. Settling into being Queen, she had impressed everyone - especially Liam who was in awe of his wife.

“Are you ready? Hana and Drake have collected Ayah.”

Looking at herself in the mirror, she took a deep breath. Straightening out her clothes she was ready to do her first individual speech to her country.

“As long as I have your love, and your support I’ll always be ready.”

Walking outside the palace, they entered the SUV which escorted them to the capitol. There was a podium outside the building which Riley was officially opening. Nerves started to kick in, but she knew what she was doing would help many people.

“Good morning, I am thrilled to see so many of you have attended. Before I was Queen, I was just a New York waitress known as Riley Brooks. During my time in Cordonia I fell in love with the country immediately and I am so proud of everyone here, how we all unite to make it a better country. I am here today to tell you a story about how I overcame fear I once contained before realising how much love and support I had.” Looking at Liam and her friends for reassurance, they all encouraged her to continue.

“I went through a hard time in my life, I believed I couldn’t live anymore. I believed I had no one supporting me. This is hard to admit and I hope that none of you will think badly of me. I went down a dark path in my life; full of sadness, regret, lack of hope. Many people would accuse me of attention seeking- but depression isn’t anything to be afraid of admitting. Nor do I want anyone to feel ashamed for having any kind of mental illness or ashamed for any abuse that they may be suffering from. These things are not a choice, and often they are treatable. We know that removing the stigma opens the doors to treatment as well as prevention. I look out at this crowd and I don’t see a bunch of numbers – I see a gathering of individuals who are willing to work together to ease the suffering of many – uniting together as I mentioned before. I thank you for your courage and your kindness. If anyone in my country feels that they need to talk or just gain some support, I am opening this building. I will often visit on a regular basis- providing my own insight and support for my people. In closing, I would like to offer you these words. May we all be happy. May we all know peace. May we all be free from suffering. Thank you for your time.” Cutting the ribbon, she was praised by everyone. Entering the building she mingled with people, whilst introducing her daughter.

Liam came behind her, placing his arms around her waist, and snuggling into her neck.

“I’m so proud of you.” He whispered, before taking Ayah into his own arms.

“I couldn’t have done it without you my king.”

“I love you, I always have and I always will.”

“And we all love you too.” Liam pulled her into his embrace whilst holding Ayah. Bending down to Riley’s stomach, both he and Ayah kissed her stomach. Last week they found out that they were unexpectedly expecting their second child.

My life is complete. I thought I’d lost you. Hold on, I kept thinking when you was in hospital. You held on, you survived. You came back into my life. You are my wife, my Queen, and my children’s mother. You are that woman who transformed my imperfections into perfections, just by the touch of your love. I don’t need the whole world to love me, as long as I have you, Ayah and bean I am a happy man - Who’s heart is filled with unconditional love.

#theroyalromance #choices trr #riley brooks #liam rhys #drakewalker #maxwell beaumont #hanalee #olivia nevrakis #trr hold on #trr hold on ayah rhys

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cavitymagazine · 4 years

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𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖈𝖔𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖉

"this is what happens"; i don't want to say this is what happens, but this is what happens. this is what happens; maybe i'm afraid, maybe I'M afraid, it's too early to say, isn't it, it's always too early, it's never late enough, it never comes time, [because it's always time], and you never get away, no one ever said "don't explore too thickly", what's the implication...? that you'll get ensnared...? that you'll never get out, that you'll never find the sun again, that you'll leave with all you have, and eventually, when the collapse comes, when the collapse comes inevitable when the collapse comes, when it comes when it comes when it comes; it's over. it's already over. why don't you quit? why can't you? it's already over, it's already done, you've failed in every respect; with respect to him: he's failed. in every respect. he inherited his past, forfeited his future, and now he's done. now he's done. now he's done, it's just echopraxis, idle-passive-echopraxia. it's just rewritten. it's Memory, it's Memory dressing you down, it's faint Memory's hot breath in your ear, it's the torque in your brain, letting the chill in. it's what it did to you. it's no one's fault it's what it did to you, it's what it did to you to you to you to you; it's just all over again it's all over again it's all over again! and no one why can't stop and no one why can't stop and no one why end it all up before over again, end it all up before over again; now you've done it, now you've done it. complete the path, end the story, put a nice finishing quote up on it, frame the situation, endure the climax, suffer the consequence oh: it's over

ok: this monster of solitudes finally wilted and caught the bus downtown to procure a girl-boy, or a boy/girl, or whichever happened to be least convenient. the kid with the chemicals: K, x, E, crack or heroin, whatever. i'll be the first to admit i was looking for a mother substitute. it was suck suck nursing-time in my ugly depths and i was willing to prostitute myself for even a breath of fresh air, without exaggerating, if that tells you anything. my hypothetical pick-up line was something along the lines of, are you obnoxiously drunk enough that you wouldn't terribly mind if i kissed or held you for a few minutes? what a joke, i am a joke, hahaha. oh no. (parenthetically, i polished off a bottle of yellowtail chardonnay and a good third of stolichnaya vodka before i set out on my way, with a snack of leftover valium here and there.) i wound up in a Club, inexplicably, don't ask me how; i dared myself to enter, against my better judgment. there i stood, more myself than i can ever remember being, practically inanimate, eyes tightly shut while everyone around me swayed, jived, gyrated, grooved and swooned. i stood absolutely still. took a shot of wild turkey. felt nothing. eventually i was accosted by some skinhead for finishing his beer; he threatened to have his burly partner pummel me into a pulp. screaming in my ear over the cacophony. to this i did not respond. I didn't do what I normally would have done, which was laugh. I stared into his eyes, my default weapon. Red heat. He let me be. I loitered a little while longer, then left, without regret or a second thought, or even a first thought, truth be told. Security even inquired after my well-being, how charming--seeing my downcast countenance, carcass hunched against a wall, blank stare, barely standing unassisted, half-dead. Oh whatever. i got lost/drunk for four hours; crossed a street where civil servants were digging a ditch. a female police officer motioned me back, i ceded and walked up to her. bitching about "why did i cross the street when the light wasn't green". i replied, simply and honestly, that i hadn't noticed. she sneered and shot back, well, maybe you'll notice next time you're smack against a windshield. the unbelievable temerity and unbridled arrogance of cops. i told her to fuck off. "pardon Me?" FUCK YOU. i screamed, and a third time, in case she didn't get the message. to say the least it touched a nerve. we all have our limits. i almost wished i had brought my knife so i could tear out her throat. people don't know when to leave well enough alone and this i cannot forgive, regardless; i don't care what social station they occupy, who they might be--fuck them and their like to the ends of the earth. many a time the thought crossed my mind to capitulate, call it quits, throw up my hands and admit myself to the emergency room of the mental hospital... but the notion was dismissed as summarily as it was entertained. why submit myself to the probing and prodding of incompetent hired goons whose only concern is my immediate docility, the mere abeyance of complaint, complacency at heart; assimilation into the normative and thus Known categories? that is not my problem. enough of that. too drunk to conclude, good night and god damn.

worst nightmare of my life this morning. won't recount the vulgar details, very mindfuck interruptus. i came to sitting in front of an end-table with a laptop on it, chatting with my ex-fiancee on AIM (not in a million years), before a towering landfill (outdoors). i nearly fall out of my seat, nonplussed, and a bum remarks, "you really shouldn't be hanging around these parts at an hour like ours." i pause, too stunned to find my tongue. i finally muster, what city is this? it's all a slur. he says Detroit. i'm in a dissociative fugue and don't know anything, or anybody. as if i'm not entitled to properly draw upon the faculty of memory; i can't make my eyes or tongue work right either (no depth-perception / i can only utter forth labials or noncommittal monosyllables). the alpha male of a pack of junkies waves me on and offers me a line of coke, i kiss some freaked-out girls and take the night bus back to the valley in a ... it feels like i haven't been inside my body in years, that i'm still indefinitely removed, and i repeatedly fail to successfully execute even the most perfunctory of flexes and maneuvers... nothing is distinctly perceptible, it's all incoherent argument and foreign hum grating on my addled nerves. underneath it all i'm somehow deeply traumatized, but i am not in a position to understand or accept this. i either have no mind or this mind is not mine; it is neither lucid nor obedient and communicates via elaborate hazards... concealed gestures i cannot divine the wherewithal of. i stagger back to my tiny apartment to discover there is a party in full swing, people fucking, people playing cards, etc. i open my fridge and it is full of hard liquor. i then realize i have been on a steady bender for two weeks.

[Author bio]

Elizabeth Victoria Aldrich made a twitter account in June 2019 to let people know her porn star girlfriend of seven years was dead after she had to ask someone on Facebook and got broken up with for being a bad influence (porn and coke binges were not her idea but let it be known she was a down-ass bitch) by her not-boyfriend who looks like the doomer meme dude. Now you're reading something by her. Isn't life weird?

twitter: @eris_rlt

#cavity magazine #cav mag #short fiction #short story #alt lit

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geminiloopholedaa · 4 years

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𝐁𝐈𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 Lizzie battles with type two (Just because I am familiar with type two). It is rapid cycling and the way I will portray it is that she gets maybe a week or two between episodes at the least. Regarding the whole “seeing things” and how MG + SEBASTIAN let Lizzie believe she was having an episode, I think it is a tad bit of shitty writing but what else is new. As far as my version of Lizzie goes, seeing / hearing things is not apart of her manic episodes. Now, my mother has seen things and she has type two but not into trying that out in writing. 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐈𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑 that comment hurt Lizzie to the core, she HATED Hope Mikaelson for this comment without ever confronting her about it (UNLESS PLOTTED OTHERWISE). Those two words crushed a siphoner and she became colder, meaner, no longer as nice to people around her because it changes who she was to feel like everyone knows her secret, which isn’t a bad thing to keep to herself. NO ONE ACTUALLY KNEW that Lizzie had bipolar disorder unless they had seen a family member with the symptoms so don’t ASSUME that your character knows UNLESS your character has a family with the disorder or they are close friends with her.

𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐒 with Lizzie is often: No sleeping, eating less then normal, fast-paced talking that others notice, her head feels as if it won’t slow down which can be seen in her jumping from one idea to the next and will be seen in her speech, suddenly take on new plans even if she has plenty on her plate to do already.

It feels like a good idea, like a good thing at first and she will even feel like she has a superpower. ( LISTEN TO THIS SONG BY KAYNE WEST CALLED “YIKES” )

She knows when she is not manic that the mania will always end and she will feel like shit after it is gone but that doesn’t stop her wanting it more

I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THE ONLY REASON LIZZIE WON’T TAKE MEDS OR GOES OFF IS BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T LIKE THE FEELING OF THE MEDICATION. Will she lie and say that is the reason and the only reason? FUCKING YES! But give her past (Remember, she believed Hope spread the truth that she had bipolar depression and mocked her by calling her witch bipolar” she is unlikely to tell anyone she wants the high, she wants to be able to do everything she needs to get done and do more. She wants the “Good” start of a manic episode where she is “happy” and feels “alive” but each time she chases that high, she ends up falling and it is fast and hard. She most likely has not told her mother or father this.

There is no magic fix for a manic episode and it is either getting help / starting her pills again or letting her hit a depressive episode which will come.

Lizzie lost her virginity in a manic episode (NO IT WASN’T RAFAEL). She was in the tail end where all she wanted was her mind to just shut up and she threw herself into doing something to calm her, which it didn’t calm her and in fact, after she was done it made her feel empty and alone. She was fifteen years old and unable to go to her mother, (canon Caroline wasn’t there at that time???) and telling her father what she had done was not happening. She told Josie but it wasn’t like how when she slept with Rafael, she told that right away, no Lizzie waited two weeks and had already crashed by then.

𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐒 are not cute or edgy. No, Lizzie wants to actually end her life. Has tried during these episodes, for her, this is normally when most of her cutting happens. It isn’t on her wrists, no she cuts her thighs to try and feel something and unlike when she is manic and she cuts this is different, she is wanting a different emotion to come out. Slow speech, unable to move around and about without feeling exhausted, the lack of interest in life or things that she loves to do.

This is where she really does want that high back or to feel “normal” again.

Has tried to end her life and no it was not just because some boy breaks her heart or anything that some might think or assume if they hear about it.

𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 has happened with Lizzie, twice before she is eighteen years old. Once at fifteen and, the second was when she is seventeen. One of the times it wasn’t her choice and she hadn’t been begging to go but the second time, she was begging for someone to help her. It isn’t a scary place and there is nothing wrong with getting help. ( I WILL NOT RP HOSPITAL SCENES WITH PEOPLE THAT HAVE NOT BEEN THERE AS THAT IS JUST WRONG TO ME. NOT COMFORTABLE WITH IT. I HAVE BEEN THERE SO I HAVE ACTUAL KNOWLEDGE ON IT AND WILL NOT SUGAR COAT NOR MAKE IT FUCKING SCARY AS HELL JUST FOR NO REASON. THESE PLACES ARE FOR HELPING PEOPLE !!! )

𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐑𝐒 aren’t something that Lizzie just forgives or forgets. When Josie admits to Lizzie that she is the one that blurted out, made up witch bipolar that ruined Lizzie’s life and want to be friends with Hope, Lizzie isn’t just going to be all “come here, let me hug you. It is alright.” What Josie did to Lizzie was wrong on so many levels, she may or may not have told people about Lizzie’s mental health but the just thought that someone knew that Lizzie was bipolar break her. Josie deserves to be hurt over Lizzie teasing her about a crush on Hope but Josie had no right to hurt Lizzie with that one. She could have told Lizzie to stop, could have said that she liked Hope or something aside from saying, “Why would I like someone that said such horrible things about my own twin?” Also, Josie let this go on for YEARS before Lizzie comforted Hope when the twins were sixteen, meaning Josie had plenty of time to tell Lizzie that she lied but she never did. Not to go boo-hoo Lizzie but you bet your ass, those words that Josie said at thirteen/fourteen years old sent Lizzie into a manic episode, which doesn’t excuse Lizzie teasing Josie or anything but still.

𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐒𝐄𝐗 & 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 Hope in the season five of the Originals took Freya to the old Mill and made it clear in that scene that Josie and Lizzie both had already started drinking at like thirteen years old, I will still be keeping that headcanon, snippet even though some might have forgotten about it. Given the fact that Alaric drowns his sorrows in a bottle, it is likely the twins do the same thing. Now, do I think the twins have an addiction? No, I think it could turn into one if they aren’t careful. Lizzie HAS popped pills, has had reckless unprotected sex and it is apart of having bipolar and doing reckless things that are likely to hurt you. Her father has never really paid attention to her? I mean, she wasn’t Hope Mikaelson so she does whatever she can to get her dad to notice and when he notices, well it doesn’t matter because any attention is good attention. Alaric is neglectful and the girls have learned to find love somewhere else and their coping skills are crappy.

𝐒𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍. We can do that but I need you to realize that if you have a reply (without messaging and asking if you can as I find it offensive and can make me upset) that Lizzie is crazy or going insane, I am going to drop that thread so fast, sorry not about that life and we get enough of that on the show. I am also going to need to understand that this can get touchy when it comes to myself given I suffer from this so sometimes replies might not come at lightning speed. Please note that some of this is triggering and if you have a trigger and want me to stay away from it message me and I will gladly do so. ASK ME IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN THIngS IN THIS HEADCANON OR ThIS PART OF HER LIFE.

𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒. Lizzie doesn’t just suddenly not become someone suffering from bipolar depression when she isn’t depressive or manic, she suffers feelings and worries about it all year long. Lizzie has background that will go into her threads but once again, I will steer clear of triggers when I rp with you if you tell me.

I AM TIRED OF THE SHOW TREATING THIS LIKE IT IS SOME KIND OF JOKE OR SOMETHING THAT MAKES LIZZIE LESS OF A PERSON SO TAKING MATTERS INTO MY HANDS.

#・ ˖ ✦ ⋄ . She never wants to hurt anyone so she hurts herself instead ❝Writing: Headcanon❞#suicide tw #cutting tw #self harm tw #overdose tw #manic episode tw #depressive episode tw #bipolar disorder tw #long post for the ts #long post #long post tw #long post for the t

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anoutlandishfanfic · 5 years

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Season Four Finale Pt. 2.

This rewrite has been in the works for quite some time (*cough* four and a half months), so THANK YOU for your patience and tenacity in not letting it sit in google docs forever unfinished.

Like many of you, I was less than enthused with Jemmy’s birth at the end of season four and decided to rewrite it, mixing in what I loved from the books and the elements I actually did like from the episode. You can find Part One/ Claire’s POV here. If you haven’t read it, you should, otherwise all you need to know is that Claire and Jamie have arrived back to River Run just in the nick of time. Claire is already upstairs with Bree and Jamie is trying to sort things out downstairs.

I had hoped to post it actually *on* Father’s Day, but life and theater productions happened and I didn’t quite wrap it up in time... but HAPPY FATHER’S DAY JAMIE.

“You’ve arrived in good time,” Lord John assured as we walked briskly towards the open front doors of River Run.

A measure of relief washed over me, but it was still out of heightened concern that I asked, “How is she, then? Is she—“

The inquiry over my daughter’s health and disposition was answered by Bree herself: a heart rending scream spilling out the open front door. I broke into a full run, sprinting towards her and I’d nearly crossed the threshold before he stopped me.

“Jamie, wait,” he insisted, his hand taking a firm hold of my elbow and pulling me up short. “Claire will be at her side in a moment. She can do far more for her than we can.”

Raking a hand wildly through my hair, I nodded and he let go.

“We?” I rose a brow in wry amusement.

“Yes, some help we’d be, you and I,” John chuckled as we walked through the door. “You’ve some knowledge of foaling and the like, I expect, but I’m afraid I’d just be in the way.”

My hands gripped the banister as I hovered near the bottom step of the grand staircase, thankful for its sturdy construction as I pushed mightily against it. The solid oak didn’t make any sound in complaint under my abuse, nor did it budge an inch as I gave it a good shake. I could hear snippets of the conversation going on above and was torn between rushing to my daughter’s side and heeding my friend’s truthful advice.

I knew if I mounted the stairs and waited in the hall, I would be unable to keep myself from bursting through the door and directly into the middle of things. I would only be in Claire’s way and much like a fish out of water, gaping slack jawed at my daughter’s turmoil and flopping this way and that in my attempt at being helpful.

No, I mentally sighed, I would let Claire handle things and trust that she knew what was best for our daughter.

I turned back to him, finally, agreeing, “She’ll have things well in hand shortly.”

“And your grandchild delivered soon after that, no doubt.”

John’s smile was forced, but his assurance genuine. I noticed the worry, the light of concern in his eyes and it made me consider the time he’d spent at River Run with Brianna. I knew he would have dutifully looked in on her, but there were many ways of going about such a task… had he introduced himself as a friend or made a point of doing business with my aunt more frequently than he might have otherwise?

These questions and more were on the tip of my tongue, but squelched as my godfather burst through the door, completely out of breath.

“Claire’s with her, then?” He blustered, his gaze upturned to the second level and brow deeply furrowed.

I swallowed the urge to smile — even as my gut churned mightily within me — when my wife’s voice broke out loud and clear.

“I am her mother and if you think for one sec—“

The door to Brianna’s room was shut hastily and any further noise stemmed.

“Oh, aye,” Murtagh chuckled wryly.

I watched in annoyance as he and John cautiously eyed each other, both obviously wanting to be within earshot when something happened, but not thrilled with the idea of being in the other’s presence.

They didn’t speak, but sighed and shifted uncomfortably, setting me even more on edge than I’d been before. I lifted my hand and raked through my hair, pulling at the back of my neck in frustration. I set my jaw, turning my gaze away from them and fixated on the door of Brianna’s chamber, instead.

I desperately wanted to know what was going on within.

Would it be soon or a good while longer?

Were things going as they should or were there complications?

There were so many things that could go wrong, only so much that Claire could do. I had complete trust in my wife and knew she would do everything she could and then some… but what if it wasn’t enough?

My thoughts quickly spiraled into a hurricane of worst case scenarios involving losing both Brianna and her bairn and I could stand it no longer.

I quickly climbed the first set of stairs and began to pace the length of the landing, back and forth, back and forth. I was closer… but still very much in the dark when the door above suddenly opened and Lizzie burst through, clattering down the hall and closing the distance between us at top speed.

“Easy, lass,” I caught her as she missed a step and nearly fell head first into me.

“What do they need?”

Relief washed over her face as she eagerly reported her task, “Mistress Claire is askin’ for her medicine box. She said you’d ken the one.”

“Aye!” Murtagh nearly shouted from below. “‘Tis right here!”

Taking two long strides to where he’d deposited the store of more necessary items from our saddlebags on a nearby table, he was back post haste, up the stairs and handing it to the trembling lass a moment later. With the goods now in hand, she spun on her heel and disappeared back up the stairs. The dust had barely settled in her wake when the door opened again and out tumbled my aunt and a woman I could only assume was the midwife.

“Well, I never!” spewed the woman. “Jocasta, I don’t understand how you can stand for such behavior in your own home! Sending a respectable midwife away from the childbed of a young woman who is in obvious need of—“

“My niece is a verra fine healer, Mrs. Gordon,” my aunt interrupted, forcefully supporting my wife’s expulsion of her friend from the birthing chamber, even while her carefully schooled features bellied her concern over this unexpected turn of events.

“She’s no’ one to stand on ceremony, an’ for that I do apologize, but Brianna is in good hands, I assure you.”

The crotchety old woman paid little heed and continued on her rant as the pair descended the grand staircase, “You are placing them both in grave danger and I will not stand for this!”

“Aye, I understand,” I caught the impatient gleam in Jocasta’s eyes as she moved closer, “but I will be followin’ Claire’s instructions on the matter, Mrs Gordon. You’re welcome to stay in case she needs a helping ha—“

“I thank you for your hospitality, but I will not remain while you let that madwoman do as she pleases!”

With that pronouncement made, Ulysses appeared out of nowhere and quickly, yet politely ushered the wretched woman to the door.

“Thank you, Auntie,” I murmured, for her ears only, informing her of my presence with her on the landing as well as recognizing her part in the proceedings.

She sighed, “Your wife has the habit of showing up at the most unexpected times, nephew.”

“Aye,” I grinned, having to admit that she did. “But I’m glad we made it in time.”

“Brianna is too,” she patted my arm with a smile. “She wishes to see you.”

I found myself quite suddenly unable to move, my feet firmly nailed to the floor as I fought between the overwhelming relief at being wanted and the sting of an even greater feeling of regret. Brianna and I hadn’t parted under ideal circumstances and, though I’d given a letter to John for him to deliver, the words of apology remained unspoken between us.

Could I face her while she was in such pain?

How could I bear to see her so, when I knew I could have prevented all of it… if I’d let Bonnet hang as he should have that fateful day… if I’d been able to defend my wife and men that bloody night on the river?

“Jamie?” Murtagh’s voice broke through the haze of immobility, “Bree needs you.”

It was those three words that set me off at a dead run up the stairs, freeing me from my mental prison and enabling me to run to my daughter’s side. I took the stairs two at a time and leapt over the remaining landing entirely in my haste. All was quiet for a moment, now that the commotion had departed, but I could hear the low hum of voices as I paused before the door of Brianna’s bedroom.

I pressed my palm against the carved oak door, hesitating for only a moment as I tipped my head forward to rest my brow against the smooth, polished wood in silent prayer.

Let them be safe, both she and the child.

The petition was well worn, my spirit having uttered it countless times in the last twenty four years. I’d prayed it for my wife and unborn child, alone in that cave. I’d repeated it over and over while imprisoned, going about my work, and in the still of the night…

Now, I prayed it for my daughter and her child.

I lowered my hand to the knob, gripping it tightly as I eased open the door. Bree let out a cry of relief as she saw me and stretched her arms out wide, reaching for me as she staggered across the floor.

Closing the gap between us in one stride, I held her close as she nearly strangled me, the loop of her arms around my neck tightening with an alarming veracity.

“I’ve got you, a nighean,” I choked out, both from her grip and the tears that threatened to fall.

Bree’s response was incoherent, her words tumbling together into a mighty sob as she clung to me.

“Musch, a leannan, musch,” I crooned, my hand cupping the back of her head as I looked wildly around for my wife. “I’ve got you, dinna fash.”

Claire suddenly materialized beside me and I opened my embrace to her, encircling the both of them and holding them close. My arm around Claire’s waist tightened in correlation to the constricting band of emotion around my chest. I dipped my head, placing a kiss amid Bree’s curls as her sobs dissolved into hiccuping sighs in time, no longer trembling against my chest.

“Da?”

Bree’s voice, husky and low from crying, brought our attention immediately back to her.

“Aye,” I cooed, rubbing her back, “I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have… I was awful to you.”

“Ach, nighean,” my heart broke, “as was I… forgive me?”

She nodded as she set us into a swaying motion, one I willingly took up as I supported her, her body leaning heavily against me. Claire stepped away and into motion as well, coming to stand behind Bree as her hands began to massage her lower back.

“That’s it, luv,” she coaxed, her brows furrowing slightly as she tried to gauge what was going on within our daughter.

I tensed, realizing that things were really going in earnest, my gaze flicking towards the door.

“I, ah… I think I’d best get out of yer way, then.”

“No!” Bree screeched, her head snapping up and colliding solidly with my chin.

“Don’t leave me, Da!”

I patted her arm reassuringly, trying to ease out of her vice grip, “You dinna need me here, a leannan… you’ve your mother and Phaedre and—”

“Don’t leave me!” she repeated, shaking her head wildly, her eyes wide as she took great fistfuls of my shirt.

I quickly took a better hold of her, keeping her from collapsing into a heap at my feet as she sobbed, “You can’t! You promised! You said I wouldn’t die. Remember? You said I wouldn’t die.”

Die?

I looked to Claire in panic and found her shaking her head.

“Bree, lovey—“ she started to console her, but our daughter interrupted.

“You said I wouldn’t die, Da!” Bree hiccuped. “If you stay, it’ll be alright… If you stay, I won’t die!”

“Ach, mo chridhe,” I crooned, wrapping my arms around her again, cradling her against my chest

“You are not goin’ to die.”

But Bree shook her head, not hearing my words as she looked up at me suddenly, tears streaming down her face as she hiccuped, “If I… Da, if I… will you… please, Da.”

“Brianna, a leannan,” I lifted my hand to her cheek, my thumb wiping away her tears as I pressed a kiss to her brow.

“You are healthy... you are so verra strong… and you have the best of help,” I reassured her.

“You can do this.”

Bree looked to Claire, still unsure.

“Your father’s right, luv,” she crooned, rubbing her back. “Baby’s in good position, you’re doing wonderful.”

“Really?” Bree hiccuped.

Claire’s smile was lopsided but the truth of her sentiment was genuine in her eyes as she echoed, “You can do this, Bree.”

Bree slipped one arm around Claire and I did the same, welcoming her into our embrace. Claire’s head naturally rested on my shoulder and Bree’s tucked neatly beneath my chin as I held them close, their curls mingling together and brushing against my skin. We stayed that way, wrapped in each other’s arms and swaying slightly until Bree spoke again.

“But you’re not going to leave me, right?” she made sure.

I shook my head and shifted her in my arms, pulling her away from me just far enough that I was sure she could see my face, even going so far as ducking my head until we were eye to eye.

“No, I willna leave ye,” I promised.

Bree nodded and let out a deep sigh as she took me at my word.

I will never leave you, my heart vowed.

“What can I do?”

I’d asked this of Bree, but it was Claire who answered, urging, “Walk her.”

Turning and blinking at my wife in complete confusion, I watched as she bit at her lower lip, trying her best not to laugh at me.

“Like a horse with colic, Jamie,” she clarified.

“Aye, well,” I stammered as I gingerly slid my arm about Bree’s waist. “Off we go… ‘round the paddock.”

Bree laughed at this and I found myself smiling as well. I would endure a great many jokes at my expense tonight if it distracted my daughter from her inner turmoil.

Claire smiled at us as we started out across the room before moving off to one corner to change out of her dirty clothing. I rather thought she’d get soiled again before the night was through, but saw the merit in not bringing the dust of the road into Brianna’s childbed.

My gut clenched as we slowly walked passed it, my mind skipping ahead to what would happen in the hours to come. John had been right, I knew foaling and calving and lambing well enough, but I was entirely out of my depth here in the murky waters of childbirth.

I’d told Claire once that I could bear my own pain, but I didn’t think I could hers and now our daughter would be in excruciating pain for hours on end. I would keep my promise, I would stay by Bree’s side until her bairn was safely in her arms… but would I have the strength to be all she needed?

We turned a corner and Claire was once again in view, standing in profile to me as Phaedre helped her out of one skirt and into another, but I saw her instead as she’d looked in Paris, carrying Faith.

She’d born two daughters into the world without my presence at her side... Could I have prevented the tragic end of the first and aided her in the second, if I’d been there with her?

A low groan from beside me rapidly brought me back to this birth. I may not have been at my wife’s side when she needed me, but I could be at Brianna’s side.

I would be at Brianna’s side, every step of the way.

“Are ye alright?” I murmured, slowing my pace and coming to stop, but she urged me forward with a decided snort.

“I’ll tell you when I’m not.”

I heard Claire chuckle at this and found her looking over at us, her gaze softening as she watched us draw near.

“Oh, aye,” I grinned at her, even while I was speaking to Bree. “Tell me anything you like… even call me names, if you wish. Always makes your mam feel better.”

Claire shook her head at me in mock reproach, knowing I was teasing her indirectly about her particular skill for it.

“Are you too warm, love? We can open the window if you like... maybe catch a breeze?” she changed the subject.

Bree nodded and Claire moved to do so, giving me a firm whack on the arse as she passed by. I felt Bree turn in my arms as she tried to redirect our course to follow her mother. Certainly not objecting to this change in direction, I steered us towards the now open window.

There was, indeed, a breeze and the three of us paused to take it in. I breathed deep, filling my lungs with the deep green smell of the willows by the river. The room had taken on a stuffy atmosphere without my noticing and I now found it disappearing around me, the distant sounds of dusk creeping in.

Bree reached out for the windowsill, anchoring herself to it as she bent forward. Another low moan bubbled up from deep within her and Claire slipped between us. I stepped aside, giving them room to work together, and watched as Claire began to dig her thumbs into Bree’s back, massaging the taut muscles just above her hips.

She noticed my absence and turned her head round, panic obvious in her eyes as she asked, “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, nighean,” I assured her. “Just givin’ ye a bit of room to breathe.”

“Stay here... I can’t breathe anyway,” she grumbled, turning her gaze back to the open window.

The light breeze stirred the curls around her face as a whimper left her and I reached out for her hand, covering it with my own and squeezing it tight. She squeezed back and I held my breath until her grip loosened, her breathing evening out again.

“Feel better?” I asked, rubbing the back of her hand with my thumb.

Bree glared up at me, her eyes boring a hole through my skull as she shook her head. Her displeasure only grew as I found myself grinning down at her.

A dhia, she looked just like her mother when she was like this.

I nodded, trying to swallow my amusement as I offered, “Can I help you lie down?”

“No,” she spat emphatically and I decided to give her some space, stepping away ever so slightly, but she pulled me back to her side, her fingernails digging into my palm.

“If I get on that bed, I’m not getting back off.”

Her voice was thin and reedy, her pupils dilating as she saw the daunting task ahead of her instead of the support of those beside her.

Claire’s gaze was kind as she squeezed our daughter’s shoulder reassuringly, seeing the stark fear in her eyes, “You’re doing fine, lovey… Just fi—“

“No, Mama,” our daughter interrupted, insisting, “I am not getting on that bed.”

Claire and I shared a look over Bree’s head, my wife’s lips twitching at this vehement outburst. Obviously, she didn’t feel Bree needed to lie down so just now and would not be pressing the point, my suggestion falling completely flat.

“Aye, well,” I cleared my throat. “What would ye like then, nighean?”

“I want to walk… I need to walk,” she muttered.

This pronouncement sent Bree and I about our familiar motions again, her weary legs setting the slow, but steady pace. I could hear Claire speaking with Phaedra behind us, asking for more candles to have on hand once the sun set and shooing Lizzie away from the work table with a dismissive wait.

Everyone was on edge, tip-toeing about our tasks as we put Bree’s needs and emotions above our own, but Lizzie was handling things the worst out of all of us. Her usual helpful nature was replaced with a dogged determination to provide for her mistress’ every need and this manifested itself in hovering around both Bree and Claire, asking numerous, unimportant questions. The lass meant well, to be sure, but I knew she was beginning to get on my wife’s nerves, which were already wearing thin.

We were back at the window and I nodded towards it, “What if we stood here a moment and let Lizzie plait your hair over again? Get it off your neck an’ let the breeze cool you a bit, aye?”

Bree cast a glance towards her lady’s maid and the hint of a smile tugged at her lips as Claire all but physically moved the lass out of her way. She agreed, making a beckoning motion with her hand before turning to gaze out the window, leaning against the sill.

Lizzie bounded over to us with a wide smile on her face, eager to do anything to aid her beloved mistress. Her nimble fingers undid what was left of the long plait that had been in place, retrieving the escaped curls and neatly tucking them into place as she set about her work. Tying off the end, Lizzie took up the damp cloth Claire had already prepared on the table nearby and gently applied it to the back of Bree’s neck.

A shuddering sigh left her in relief and she turned to her companion in thanks, “You’re too good to me, Lizzie.”

“Och, no, Mistress!” Lizzie burst. “Tis nothin’ at all! I only wish I could do more for ye. Can I be fetchin’ ye anythin’? A cool glass of buttermilk, perhaps?”

Bree pulled a face in answer, making the lass laugh, and we returned to our walk. Claire and Phaedre were puttering about with something and I noticed that the general hubbub of the room was beginning to agitate my daughter. I looked over my shoulder to find Lizzie practically on my heels, anxious to be of use.

“Lizzie, would ye, ah… would ye fetch us some more water?” I punted, figuring we had use of it, but then had an idea.

“But fresh from the well, aye? Or the coldest ye can find, anyway... Tha’ might be nice to keep Bree cool.”

Claire peeked over her shoulder at me, one brow rising, her eyes twinkling in silent laughter as Lizzie sought approval from Bree and then nearly sprinted out the door.

“Thank you,” Bree sighed as it shut and things began to settle down around us.

I chuckled and patted her hand, “Dinna fash, a nighean.”

We continued our circuitous route for a good while more before Bree suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth dropping open as she gasped for air. I looked wildly over her head and Claire was at our side the next instant, her hands flying to Bree’s hips as she took up a slow but urgent massage. Bree turned into me, burying her face in my chest.

“Easy, luv,” Claire crooned. “Keep breathing.”

My hand rubbed smooth circles between Bree’s shoulder blades. I felt the low intonations of her words, but couldn’t make out what she said.

“Say it again, a leannan?”

Bree didn’t budge, only moving her mouth ever so slightly away from my body as she repeated herself with as much force as she could muster.

“I — want — to — lie — down.”

My head snapped up and Claire sprang into action, Phaedra abandoning whatever it was she was doing to make final preparations for the bed.

Claire and I slowly brought Bree to the edge of the bed, where Phaedre perched with arms outstretched to help her move. The three of us painstakingly coaxed, supported, and guided Bree into place against a mountain of pillows.

She shifted about, agitated and flushed, trying to find a position that suited her.

“Da?” Her hand reached out as tried to think of a way to help, her voice urgent.

“Da, I need you.”

I climbed onto the bed beside her, taking up her hand and brushing a kiss across her knuckles.

“Right here, mo chridhe.”

She reclined against the pillows, finding solace for a brief moment, but turned her cheek into the pillows, determined to keep me in her sights as she grabbed for my other hand.

“I’ve got you,” I assured her. “I’m right here, I won’t leave you.”

She nodded as her gaze unfocused and she stared right through me as her pain intensified. Her grip tightened and I shifted beside her, turning so that she could hold onto me without compromising any position she wanted to be in, my long arms reaching and giving her the freedom to move. She did so, dropping my left hand to place her own on the great swell of her belly.

“How… how much longer? How long til he’s here?” Bree rambled, her eyes wide.

“I’m not sure,” Claire answered, gently but honestly. “Not an awfully long time, I don’t think.”

Bree nodded and turned back to me, breathing heavily as she demanded, “Talk to me, Da!”

“Oh?” I looked to Claire who was already settling about her work, arranging things within easy reach, “What shall I say, then?”

“It doesn’t really matter… tell her stories, just keep talking to get her mind off things,” she assured me.

Stories.

“Aye… well,” I scrambled. “Have ye heard the one about Finegal’s Cave, then? An’ it’s giants?”

A low groan was my answer and I plunged headlong into the tales of my youth. I held her hand as her gaze became more and more distant, turning inwards instead of latching on to the stories of silkies and seal catchers, of pipers and elves, of the wee folk and their tricks. All of these tumbled from my lips out of pure habit, for I’d been telling them my whole life long… to Jenny’s children, and then her grandchildren, to the men at Ardsmuir in the still of the night, to a skittish mare in need of coaxing, to the empty wind upon the moor.

I was somewhere between Columba’s fountain and Thomas the Rhymer when Bree let go of me all together and strained forward, her damp shift clinging to her as she began to bear down with all of her might. I reached out an arm to support her in this new position as Phaedre quickly built up the pillows behind her.

“There, now,” Claire crooned, her hands readjusting the hem of Bree’s shift. “There we go, Bree.”

Bree gasped for air and then pushed again, an inhuman noise escaping her as she fought to bring forth her child. The contraction eased after was seemed like an interminable amount of time and her head tipped back against the pillows.

“I just want to be done, Da,” Bree wheezed, desperation in her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath. “I just… want… him here.”

I leaned forward, cooling her brow and neck with a cloth before kissing her gently, just behind her ear.

“Soon, a leannan. He’ll be in your arms in just a moment more.”

We went through many such bouts, with Bree giving it her all, Claire coaching from between her knees, and me at her side, helpless to do anything but pray. One pain came on top of the last and Bree reached out blindly for me, her face turning red with effort, then white, then back to red again… beads of sweat mingling with the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

“Almost, lovey,” Claire assured. “You’re almost there.”

The next contraction began with staggering strength and I watched as something snapped within her, Bree’s demeanor changing entirely as she got down to business in earnest.

“There we go! That’s it, luv,” Claire cheered as she lifted Bree’s hem higher.

I could see nothing — were there anything to be seen at present — and was rather glad of it. From what I knew about the messy process of being born, I wasn’t entirely sure I really wanted to watch my grandchild enter the world. I would be here, in the room and at Bree’s side, and that was plenty enough for me.

Claire’s brow furrowed in concentration as she shifted to get a better view of things, urging Phaedre to bring the light closer as mother and daughter worked together as one.

“Good, lovey,” Claire crooned, her shoulders hunching as she ducked her head, disappearing from my sight.

With a frustrated whimper, Bree’s head tipped back against the pillows and her eyes slid shut in defeat.

Claire’s face reappeared, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright as she cheered, “You’re doing fine, lovey… just fine.”

She tore her eyes from Bree’s face only for a moment to look at me, her heart adding and so are you.

I sighed, shaking my head with a weary smile. I was doing nothing, really… she and Brianna were the ones doing all the work, with the latter doing the lion’s share. Claire’s gaze returned to her patient and her head ducked down again, hidden from view behind the screen of Bree’s shift.

Another pain gained momentum and Bree let go of my hand, her face darkening with effort as she began to push once more.

“Good!” Claire praised, cheering, “Good, Bree!”

“Guid, a leannan!” I picked up my wife’s pattern of urging, encouraging my daughter in the language of my heart.

I knew she wouldn’t hear my words, so deeply consumed with the task at hand, but that my tone, the intent of the words that tumbled out of my mouth would make it through to her… bolstering and sustaining her in ways that I physically could not.

“You are so strong, my brave girl,” I encouraged in Gaelic. “You can do this, he’s almost here.”

“Again, Bree,” Claire urged and I changed my course, slipping in and out of English.

“Once more, a leannan. Once more!”

I moved closer to my daughter’s side, keeping my head near hers as I coaxed, “You are doing so well, Brianna.”

Bree’s head tipped back as her hips dug into the mattress and she quickly let the air out of her lungs through clenched teeth, hissing as Claire assured her, “Easy, luv. That’s the way.”

“Guid,” I crooned, not knowing entirely what I was congratulating her for, but knowing without a doubt that she deserved it. “Verra well done!”

A sharp cry left her lips and her hand reached out wildly, searching between her legs.

“Can you see him?” Bree turned her gaze, trying to find her mother in her hazy delirium. “What… what does he look like?”

Claire chuckled at this, her voice muffled as she continued about her business, “He’s rather unhappy at present, lovey. Quite the scowl for one so young.”

“He’s a boy, then?” I asked, hesitantly, wondering just what exactly was going on.

“God help him if he isn’t,” she teased and Bree chuckled for a half a moment before the sound changed into a sort of strangled moan as she began to push.

“Once more,” I encouraged. “Once more and he’ll be here!”

Claire cheered and Bree let out a mighty shout as her battle ended and her child entered the world. The bairn suddenly appeared on the quilts, wriggling like a landed trout within Claire’s guiding hands. My heart leapt into my throat, cutting off all words of congratulations before they could even begin to form, and I watched in awe as Claire lifted the squalling infant into Bree’s waiting arms.

“Oh, baby,” she crooned, her thumb caressing his damp cheek. The bairn turned his head towards her, his cries waning into annoyed puffs at the inconvenience of being born.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you!”

She looked up a half moment later in surprise, catching Claire’s eye as she proclaimed, “He is a boy!”

“He is,” Claire beamed, her voice thick and cheeks as wet as my own. “I’m so proud of you, lovie.”

Bree’s chin wobbled for a moment before her gaze dropped back down to her son.

Her son.

My daughter has a son.

Tears blurred my vision as I turned to find Claire, still about her work, but a grin splitting her face into two. I sniffed and blinked once — twice and the world settled back into focus. I could see the tears of joy trailing down her cheeks as she felt my gaze upon her and looked up for a brief moment.

I had no words to speak — my heart so very full —but I found it didn’t matter. Claire’s eyes sparkled as her spirit reached out to mine, whispering well done.

Chuckling softly, I shook my head.

No, I hadn’t done anything. Not much, anyway. It was them that had done all the work, I’d merely been along for the ride.

And what a ride it had been.

My hand reached out as I returned my attention to Bree, gently cupping the back of her head as I placed a kiss just above her temple.

“Verra well done, a leannan,” I murmured, my lips brushing against her curls.

“Verra well done, indeed.

#outlander #outlander season four #rewrite #season four moments #outlander fanfic

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masosade · 4 years

Text

It’s been several weeks now since the fight for Phos’ life and Maso hasn’t left the pillow Lounge even once. Not like he has anywhere else to go. Now that Calypso was gone, there weren’t any despair-related activities he would be assigned to, nor was he in the mood for bothering other people.

Especially since Stellan was tracking his moves. Partially, his refusal to go somewhere stemmed from a sullen attempt to bore Stellan and Neil into forgetting about him. If he never did anything exciting, they’d move on to other things and leave him alone so he could find someone to take the bracelet off.

Then he realized they were probably not watching him and simply had a signal set up for when he got into trouble so they could make out in peace, and the joy of being boring faded.

It’s not that he was depressed, per se, not really. He was just...unsure of his next move. And waiting with a purpose sounded much better than wandering around aimlessly until something interesting happened.

The first week he was anxious someone from the MiW might come back, or Stellan would give him another lecture, but it was relatively quiet. Then he started telling himself it was relaxing, sitting there doing nothing but resting in pillows. A pitiful lie.

After two days of trying to sleep (just to see how Phos did it), his restlessness caught up to him and he started moving the pillows around, building little caves until he grew bored of that too.

Worry followed shortly after, then anger, then regret, and finally just listless state of ‘whatever happens, happens.’

As long as no one bothers me, I’m fine.

How luck would have it, his peace didn’t last long.

While Maso sat staring at the broken TV one day, wondering how he could upgrade it with the few tools he had at hand and hopefully shadow proof it so it could work even after Phos’ expected return, he heard some rustling in one of the hallways.

Phos! Was his first thought and then, The MiW? No wait...Stellan? Shadow Mariella? Can shadows even mimic footsteps?

Maybe she was still with that hopeless Alice. Maso hoped it wasn't them, because the last thing he wanted to see was a pawn of Calypso coming to gloat.

The door swung open, letting two figures step inside the Lounge and Maso realized he had judged too soon. Any pawn of Calypso was welcome instead of them, hell, even the Absurdist would’ve been a much better sight.

“Told you the bracelet still works!” Anastasia said, sounding way too pleased. “He’s still here!”

It took Maso a second to recognize the Stanley by her side. He had changed since the last time he saw him, less glitchy and the worn employee 427 outfit (which Maso assumed he had worn ironically) was now replaced by a suit, which looked just as ridiculous.

His expression twisted into one of annoyance.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Not quite,” the Stanley smiled.

“Maybe he meant me~”

“Seriously, are you two here to gloat or something. Fuck off. I’m not hurting anyone sitting here so whatever twisted plan you have to torture me into getting better, I’m sure there are loooots of doomed Bradleys you can use them on.”

“Oh yess,” Anastasia let go of Stanley’s arm and, honest to god, marched over the pillows in five inch tall platform boots, somehow not twisting her prosthetics in the process. “We have a hoooooorrible torture plan for you. So horrible, you’ll never call yourself a masochist ever again~”

She plopped down next to Maso, not so subtly blocking the exit should he try to jump up and run.

He glared at her. “You’re a disgrace to Bradleys everywhere.”

“I know!”

Stanley joined on Maso’s other side. He didn’t sit too close but Maso still scooted backwards, keeping a close eye on his hands in case he tried to paralyze or pump him full of hope again.

“We aren’t really here to torture you, Bradley,” He said in a softer voice than what Maso was used to from him. At first he thought Stanley was trying to appear as nonthreatening, although taking a closer look revealed that he didn’t look as strong as he did back when they first met. Probably why Anastasia was accompanying him.

“We’re here to talk.”

“That’s just as bad. I’d prefer torture.”

“Oh, any kind~?” Anastasia smirked.

“No! The pain kind, do any of you even listen to me when I say I’m a pain Masochist. As in physical pain. God! You just hear what you wanna hear, don't you?”

“That would make three of us, kiddo.”

“Yeah, fuck you, An.”

“Maybe if you ask nicer-”

“Kids,” Stanley interrupted. “Can we get on with it now?”

Anastasia piped down and Maso reluctantly turned his attention back to Stanley. All his arms were crossed tightly over his jacket, but at a moment’s notice he would be prepared to stab then both with any blade resembling object in his pockets. Stanley was weak but Anastasia was there to be his bodyguard and Maso knew that he’d have to take them both down if he wanted to escape.

Just want to talk, my ass.

“Calm down, Maso. We aren’t going to hurt you—“

“Then get on with it already so you can leave faster.”

Stanley sighed. “Fine. First of all, I wanted to apologize for...my obsession with you. It was creepy and desperate. You’re not even the Bradley, or my Bradley. So I shouldn't have come after you like that. Though I don’t apologize for paralyzing you, annoying you or giving you hope.”

His expression gave way to a bratty smirk. Maso was only slightly surprised to see he still had it in him to be a little shit, despite the beating he took from Phos.

“Okay.”

“Okay! So next, we wanted to offer you company if you are going to go get healed at Seraphim’s. I know you’re scared-”

“No I’m not-”

“Stellan confirmed you are, so yes, I know you’re scared and probably won’t go through it alone but it might help having someone you know with you!”

“It really won’t, I hate you both.”

Stanley looked pleased. He glanced at Anastasia, who took it as a cue.

“Okay, kiddo, listen up.”

Why is everyone calling me a kiddo, I’m probably their exact fucking age. If Maso wasn't annoyed yet, he was now.

“As a Spencer, I know what you’re going through.”

A derisive snort. Anastasia continued, unfazed.

“I’ve also been changed by past events in my life, ones that physically and mentally scarred me for life, or so I thought.” She glanced down at her prosthetics and despite his skepticism, Maso couldn’t help but listen.

“I was stuck in hell for months, a kind of hell that no Office can compare to. And after I was rescued, I was certain of only one thing: I didn’t want to be alive for another second. I asked my rescuers over and over again just to mercy kill me and let me be in peace, but they never listened. After immediate attention to my wounds, they gave me emotional first aid. I was put through all kinds of physical therapy and medication, the first year all against my will because I didn’t want to get better. I just wanted to curl up and rot.

But despite my struggling, it did help. And I realized I didn’t really want to die, I just wanted to stop hurting. My supervisor knew this and she told me they were willing to fix me up, give me new limbs and change my body as I saw fit, if I would promise to give living another chance. And with that deal, I did.”

So she blackmailed you into going to therapy, Maso wanted to say. He was determined to find flaws in her ‘redemption’ story. It made him feel uncomfortable, not that he would admit it. Was he supposed to believe he could have the same? A pill here, a touch of magic there and suddenly he was as good as new, Perfectly Normal Bradley Spencer, here to make the world a better place or some shit like that. Yeah right.

An continued, unfazed by his musings.

“Therapy wasn't easy, even after I decided I’ll give it a try. I hated it for a long while, but eventually the changes were noticeable. I stopped crying so much, I was able to talk to other patients at the Hospital, I found interest in hobbies again and even got my punning abilities back~”

Stanley snorted in the background.

“Either way! I know you’ve heard this from lots of people, therapy and medication helps along with a goal in mind. And I think you know we aren’t making this up to trick you into a straight jacket. But you’re holding yourself back because you’re too scared to make real goals, Maso. You think you will change into a different person. I didn’t. I changed into a different person under torture, but I changed back into my true self when I let myself heal. And I’m quite happy with how I am today. I will never want to go back to the broken husk of a person I was years ago. Even when I thought the trauma was the only thing I had left.”

She gestured around him. “You already know your true self. It’s not a sad little fusion moping around and self destructing is it?”

“Maybe it is,” Maso shot back.

“Nah, it’s not. Because if it is, then why would you still be here? Why aren’t you out there sulking and bothering Stellans and throwing yourself off platforms?”

“...well, because—“

“Because the real “Maso” or whoever you are now, isn’t that guy who wants to cosplay a corpse so badly. It’s the guy who almost literally raised Heaven and Earth to save the life of his friend. Or who spends his time taking apart broken TVs to see if he could make something interesting out of it. A robot, perhaps? A little automatic pranking device?”

Maso made a face. “I was thinking of a scanner,” He muttered.

“See!” An’s eyes lit up. “You wanna have friends who recognize you as one too, and you want to build stuff and make puns and steal people’s clothes to get your hair ruffled. If you really just wanted to die, you’d be dead already. If you didn’t want to change, you would’ve disappeared and quietly made it happen.”

“It’s the hope-”

“Hope isn’t a parasite, Bradley.” Stanley cut in. “It’s a natural state for a soul to have. If your soul only had one emotion, it wouldn’t know how to survive. You basically starved it of the thing it needed the most. Nourishment, in form of happiness, hope and comfort. Your soul isn’t true when it’s full of despair, it’s just starving.”

“You- you guys are just saying that to get me to come to your stupid hospital so you can fix me, aren't you?”

“No. We’re not dragging you anywhere. As we said, we just wanted to talk.” Stanley stood up and An followed suit.

“If you want to come with us, you’re welcome at the hospital. We have a garden, a library, workshops where you can build and craft to your heart’s content. You’ll get your own room and personal doctors assigned to you.”

“But I can’t leave whenever I want, can I?”

“...no. If you do come, you will have to stay there until you have shown improvement or signs of stability.”

Maso scoffed. “Then no.”

“It’s your choice, for now. But then I would look into other options. And I think you already know which one would work.” Stanley gave him a curt nod. “We’ll see each other around.”

With that, he turned and left for the door, back the way he came from. An lingered a while longer, studying Maso quietly.

“...what?”

“If you aren’t ready to change for yourself, think about what’s best for Phobos,” she said after a moment.

“What will you do when he comes back? Cling to him and do nothing? What if he needs help? Are you prepared to give him some hope and comfort too? If you aren’t, what will you do when he decides you aren't worth the trouble? You should then consider finding a purpose that is more than just existing around other people. You can’t help your friends if you’re nothing but a puppet following the motions.” She turned to follow Stanley out.

“Think about it, Maso. What kind of friend do you even want to be?”

And then they were gone. Maso fell back onto the pillows feeling strangely annoyed and tired. He wanted to say it’s because they were testing his patience with their whole ‘we can save you!’ spiel. But as much as he hated to say it, there were things that rang true, things he’d have to think about deeper.

What kind of friend do you even want to be?

What kind of friend, indeed?

#drabble #suicide ment #depression ment #trauma #x drabbles

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mskinkyafro · 5 years

Text

Blurred Lines (Ethan x MC)

A/N: This is my take on Miami with our man. From Ethan’s perspective and there’s a few references from my previous fics but its not necessary to read those before this. I was originally wanting to post this before the chapter aired but life happened and a week later here it is. I took some dialogue from the chapter and placed it in here but not much. This also uses Ella Mai’s close near the end. I wasn’t originally gonna use a song in this but the story kept shifting but it’s a great song that reminds me of these two. But overall I hope you all enjoy my version of Ch. 10. This fic grew way longer than originally thought but oh well lol.

Summary: Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Michaels start to crossover into new territory during the Miami conference.

All Rights to PB and Ella Mai for her song “Close”

Sidenote: Song Lyrics are italicized

Word Count: 3,996 words.

Tagged: @sharrybh20 @ifyouseekheart @perriewinklenerdie @radlovedreamer @siegrrun @flyawayboo @gabbisaur

Sorry if I forgot anyone else, but iIf anyone else wants to be tagged just let me know!

Ethan Ramsey stood in a secluded corner of the atrium as he watched the interns scrambled to the leaderboards. He’d learn his lesson over the last few weeks of attempting to post the rankings in their sights. The amount of times he was almost ran over or harassed by the young doctors was wearing down his already thin patience. This time he decided to post it earlier to avoid the savages.

Usually he would carry on with his patients after each week’s posting or spend some time checking on his mentor and looking over his case, but on this occasion he couldn’t help but stay just to catch a glimpse of Katrina when she looks at the ranks. Out of the sea of interns he could make out a young doctor flinging her arms around Katrina in excitement and hear brief exclaims of congratulations. He notices the young African-American woman taken aback by the news but quickly a fierce look of pride washes over her as she talks amongst the few lingering colleagues who wish to extend kind pleasantries.

He smiles to himself as he watches Katrina’s grin. Despite growing closer the last few weeks Ethan was unsure how he felt about Dr. Michaels. It was clear to himself he trusted, admired, and respected her even though more times than others she’s a pain in his ass. And on the other hand, residing deep inside was his raw attraction for the young resident. He catches himself staring at her when she’s unaware or if talking to her how his eyes tend drift to her round, pouty lips. Ever since his daydream about Dr. Michaels, to their conversation in his home, and the last weeks of closely working together on his secret case he’s noticed there’s a difference.

Ethan would never willingly admit to himself that he may have became enamored with the young doctor. No, he keeps those dangerous thoughts regarding Katrina in the forgotten depths of his mind. He has far to many other important things to focus on. He soon notices that he’s no longer alone in his little corner. A familiar perfumed scent hits his nose and without turning he addresses the figure.

“Chief Emery, what can I do for you?”

“Now Ethan, must you always be so formal. ”

Ethan rolls his eyes and turns to face Chief Emery. He can tell by the way she said his name she wanted something. Before, he always folded but as of late her attempts of being his emotional puppeteer has had no effects.

“I’m afraid I’m not in the mood Harper nor do I have the time so let’s keep this short, yes?”

She’s momentarily taken aback but brushes off her initial surprise.

“Yes, you definitely seemed...” Her eyes move to land on Katrina.

“...preoccupied at the moment.

Ethan follows her gaze and his eyebrows furrowed as he sees where it lands, annoyed at the subtle insinuations.

“Ahem, what exactly did you need?”

She turns back to look at Ethan and hands him papers and continues to speak as he looks over what she’s handed him.

“This actually. You’re going to Florida. Well, Miami specifically and accompanied by Dr. Michaels to a medical conference. You both will be surrounded by other accomplished doctors from the best hospitals all over the country, so make sure to mingle and represent Edenbrook well.”

She turns to walk away from him but he cuts her path off.

“Wait, why must I go and bring along an intern for that matter. Isn’t the schmoozing apart of your job description?”

“Actual my job description is to assign who I want to schmooze, if not myself. Second, as a way to mix things up in the competition I decided to throw in an exclusive reward. Thus, attending a prestigious medical conference with the accomplished Dr. Ethan Ramsey.”

“You enjoy torturing me, don’t you Harper?”

“No, no of course not.”

Ethan takes a step back as he realizes Harper attempting to cup his cheek. Her hand falls back to her side.

“But at least your company is someone you’ve taken a ...liking too, from my understanding.” her tone was polite but Ethan noticed a small hint of hidden meaning in between her words and an unfamiliar glint in her eyes.

“Now Harper, I-”

Ethan was interrupted by the buzzing of Harper’s pager.

“Duty calls. Dr. Ramsey, this is final.”

She walks away without another word down the west corridor. Ethan shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. Unable to argue anymore he makes his way to the center of the atrium towards Dr. Michaels who’s still surrounded by her roommates and a few straggling interns.

“Rookie. I see you saw the news.”

He sees her turn toward him as a hush fell amongst the other young doctors as he finds himself standing a few spaces of chest to chest with Dr. Michaels.

“Yes I did Dr. Ramsey. Are you here to congratulate me?”

“For not killing your patients? No.”

He noticed a flicker of sadness in her eyes and the way her smile fell. He mentally kicks himself.

“However…”

Katrina eyes grow more hopeful.

“...you’ve yet to let me down, Rookie.” he let his eyes soften as he finished speaking. Ethan felt his heart skip a beat as Katrina’s annoying yet radiant smile grew wide.

“And I don’t plan to anytime soon, sir.”

“Good.”

The two sat in a comfortable silence for a few seconds before a cough from others interrupted the moment.

“Ahem, anyway Rookie. Pack your bags tonight. You’re accompanying me to Florida this weekend for a conference as reward for ranking first this week.”

“What?! Really?!” she said in disbelief.

Ethan ignores the many audible gasps, groans of disappointment, and bitter mumbles.

“I’m not repeating myself, Rookie. Send me your address so I can pick you up, our flight leaves at 7:00 am tomorrow morning.”

And with that Ethan walked away and head towards his office.

Time seemed to fly for the next morning arrived and Ethan found himself immensely irritated. He rubs his face in exhaustion and frustration. He hopes that their flight would end soon because he was unsure how much longer he could take before he might lose it. First, the flight was delayed by two hours, then he realized the tickets were economy not first class, so himself and Dr. Michaels were huddled with the other passengers like cattle, and thirdly a infant seems to have been crying non-stop since the departure.

He knows how little of an impatient man he is so at the moment all he could do was suffer in his seat and try not to succumb to his building temper as his companion managed to sleep during the entire trainwreck of a flight. As he was steaming in his seat he felt a pressure land on his shoulder. He turned and looking down on his right shoulder he saw a messy clump of afro hair and soft snoring from Katrina. Seeing Dr. Michaels sleep so soundlessly and how peaceful her features were made most of his bitterness melt at the sight. He didn’t know why but just one look at her and he felt calm. Just for a minute he thought maybe this flight isn’t all bad.

Soon enough the overhead speakers came alive to alert the passengers that in a few minutes they will arrive at their destination soon. The sound of the seat belt sign chiming cause Katrina stir from her slumber and she slowly open her eyes as she adjusted to her surrounding. Her eyes land on Ethan and she immediately bolts upright, bumping her elbow in her neighbor who shoots Katrina a nasty glare.

“Sorry sir.”

The man beside her let out a grunt and continued to read his newspaper. Concern at the lack of warmth from his shoulder and for the way Katrina woke up he gently laid his hand on her shoulder.

“Everything okay Rookie?”

“Oh, umm yes Dr. Ramsey. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was-”

“Relax Dr. Michaels. I’ve had worse things happen to me on economy flight. Being your pillow is not one of them.”

She smirks towards him.

“Is that so? So you’re saying I can specifically request you as my pillow?”

“No.”

“Hmm. I don’t believe you.”

“Do I look like the type to lie.”

“Of course not sir but I feel like you’ll give in.”

“And what makes you think that I’ll cater to your wishes, Dr. Michaels?”

She lifts a perfectly shaped eyebrow at Ethan as a smirk that rivals the cheshire cat graced her face.

“I can be very persuasive.” Ethan feels goosebumps form as he feels the ghostly trace of her fingertips brush his hand reaching to the seat pocket in front of her. In his head he’s trying to decipher if that was a coincidence or something orchestrated by the young doctor.

Reeling from the simplest of touch, Ethan stayed quiet for the moment before he readied himself with a retort but interrupted by the woman beside him.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

He couldn’t help but smile at her and shake his head.

“I agree that your growing ego is unbecoming, Rookie.”

She giggles at him and then turns to look out the window hoping to not disturb the man beside her while Ethan kept his gaze fixed on her. Trying to process how he’ll survive this weekend.

A hour passes after landing in Miami and Ethan and Katrina arrive at the hotel and make their way to the front desk.

“Yes how may I help you?”

“We have a reservation for two double rooms under Ramsey.”

“Alrighty let’s take a look.”

The woman behind the desk types on her keyboard before her face scrunches up.

“I’m sorry sir, but it seems there was a mix up and all the double rooms are booked for the weekend.”

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration and lets out a gruff sigh a Katrina tries to reason with the concierge.

“I’m sorry but that’s unacceptable. What other rooms are available?”

“Well ma’am, once more I’m terribly sorry for the mix up. We have one room available, the honeymoon suite, which we’re willing to give to you and your husband for free as condolences for the booking conflict.”

Ethan looked up from his previous position and noticed the faint blush that graced Dr. Michaels face at the woman’s assumption. He saw Katrina about to correct the employee but his mouth spoke without warning.

“We’ll accept it, Thank you.” he nods curtly as he collects the key cards and heads to the elevator, leaving behind a stunned Katrina.

She manages to catch up to his long strides as he enters the elevator and presses the bottom to the penthouse level. The door closes and there’s a small silence between the two. Ethan can tell she’s dying to question him so he speaks first.

“You’re allowed to talk, rookie.”

“Umm are you sure you’re comfortable with sharing a room, Dr. Ramsey?”

“They are no other rooms and we’re probably unable to get double rooms at any other hotel in the ten mile radius, I gathered we might as well enjoy an unexpected upgrade even if it’s due to moronic behavior.”

The elevator halts and the doors open and Ethan steps out and strides down the long hallway followed by Katrina and arriving in front of the last door of the corridor.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He opens the door and holds it open for her to enter.

“Are you uncomfortable sharing close quarters?”

Katrina enters and was about to respond but was distracted by the glamour of the suite. He follows behind her and watches as her eyes lit up with astonishment at the room. Ethan’s relieved that she’s preoccupied by their room to question him any further. His rational, safe-playing side is chastising him for accepting this arrangement but his other side took the lead at that moment. He didn't have a true reason for saying yes other than wanting another occasion to be close to Dr. Michaels

“Okay, one. This room is gorgeous. I mean, this view of the beach is breathtaking! Two, I may be distracted currently but that doesn’t mean I didn’t noticed that you answered my question with a question.”

Katrina done inspecting the suite moves to gently set her suitcase down as Ethan stands a few feet beside her placing his own down.

“If I didn’t know any better rookie, I’d say you’re scared to be alone with me.”

Ethan can feel Katrina’s hot gaze look him up and down and hear her sly grin as she spoke.

“Oh, I’m not the one that should be afraid.”

He feels a flush grow in his neck at her words.

“And I noticed you didn’t correct the concierge when she assumed we were husband and wife.”

“People are always going to assume. Why waste my breath to change what they others think?”

He hopes she doesn’t see through his thin excuse.

“Wise words Dr. Ramsey. So what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?” she smiles as sits on the edge of the king size bed.”

Ethan pulls out a folder filled with documents from his bag and sits at on the loveseat in the room and places it on the coffee table in front of him.

“The conference doesn’t start til tomorrow so for the rest of the day-

“I can soak up some Miami sun!” Katrina interrupts.

“Yes, I suppose so while I stay in to look over some files.

“Dr. Ramsey you’re going to work when…” Katrina hops off the bed and saunters to the glass door of the balcony and gestures to the scenic view of the beach below them.

“...this is out our window.”

He moves to take out his glasses from his pocket and places over his eyes and doesn’t bother glancing out the balcony.

“My job never ceases, Katrina.”

Ethan begins to read the documents when the papers are pushed away from. He looks up at Katrina with an annoyed expression on his face.

“You work so hard as it is back home. You need to relax, Dr. Ramsey. Come along with me. I promise I’m loads of fun.” She said as she threw him a wink.

Ethan reaches to center his work in front of him once more.

“Tempting, but I have to decline.”

“Suit yourself.”

Katrina turns away from him to dig into her suitcase and grabs a few items before she heads to the bathroom

Ethan soon becomes engross for a few minutes and doesn’t tear his attention away even as the door of the bathroom opens and Katrina’s light footsteps approach.

“So is their a curfew I should be aware of?”

“Well-” Ethan’s words die at his lips as he looks away from his work and takes in the sight before him. Katrina stands in front of him wearing a scandalous yellow triangle bikini that makes her coffee-hue skin glisten and shows off curvy figure. The revealing fabric hugged in all the right places, her thick hips, thighs, and shows off her double D sized breasts. He realizes he’s been staring for too long and finally speaks, his voice slightly cracked.

“Ahem, urm...you’re not confined to a time frame but keep in mind we have a long and early day ahead of us so I advise not too late.”

“Gotcha.” she turns to a nearby chair and slips on her see-through yellow wrap skirt. She walks over to the body length mirror to check herself out and fluffs out her frizzy fro and heads to exit the room. She pauses and calls out to him over her shoulder

“You sure don’t want to tag along, Dr. Ramsey?” she asks one more time. Ethan can tell her tone is innocent enough but in her hazel eyes he sees hope and a tiny bit of mischief in. He tries to focus on her face and not her perfectly round ass that’s barely covered in the cloth she calls a swimsuit.

“Well, we are in Miami. I suppose these documents can wait” he flashes a rare smile.

“That’s more like it sir!”

“Please Katrina, Ethan outside of work?

“Sorry Ethan.”

He smiles small and heads to his bag then the bathroom to change. He steps out in just his swim trunks and slips on some sandals. He notices Katrina’s eyes roam his bare chest before landing back to his eyes. He smirks at her and then walks to open the door to start their afternoon.

They spent the rest of the day and early evening basking the Miami sun. Walking on the shore, smiling and laughing discussing their lives before Edenbrook. Soon night fell and they found themselves back at the hotel outside bar nursing several scotches on rocks, sitting elbow length from another.

“So that’s really all there is to know about me. I switched from the west coast to the east coast. I haven’t visited in a while but I have an older brother and niece who live in LA. It’s difficult to visit sometimes because he’s a busy detective and my niece Chelsea is heavily involve in school especially now she’s entering her senior year.”

Katrina says as she sips from her drink.

“Do you miss it?” He asks.

“Sometimes. I miss craziness of LA or just driving to the beach and surfing in the hot summer days. But being here at Edenbrook, I have a new love, helping my patients.”

Ethan couldn’t help but stare as she said this. It was rare to find another doctor who truly wanted make a difference. More and more he got to know Katrina he couldn’t help but fall more.

He nods and finishes his drink. As he sets his glass down music begins to play and the other people outside begin to grab their partners and dance. He sees Katrina’s face light up in recognition and downs the rest of her drink and excitedly hops of her stool and fumbles slightly. From the alcohol or just the sudden movement, Ethan was unsure but had inkling it was both.

“I love this song! Ethan, dance with me.”

He looks around nervously. Looking for any doctors that could be in range.

“I don’t think so. I’m not one for dancing.”

A pouty look forms on Katrina’s face and in that moment Ethan just wanted to kiss her then and there.

“Please, for me.” She reaches to pull him off his seat.

He decide to throw caution in the wind and followed Katrina to the makeshift dance floor.

They find themselves in the center surrounded by other couples dancing to the sensual music. Katrina wraps her arms around his neck and presses herself closely to Ethan’s body. He places his hands on her hips and his eyes bore to hers as the sway to the music. He feels intoxicated by her citrus perfume.

I don't even really care who knows it

Just keep me there, keep me in the moment

Seen a lot of things, but I never seen my spirit glowin'

The way you do me got me outta body

Cause you the only out of everybody

Who gon' go out of the way to show me all the ways

Come control the flame

I just wanna stay right here with you

Katrina then turns so her ass is pressed against Ethan’s groin and grabs his arms so that they wrap around her as they continue to sway to the music. Ethan groans quietly to himself and tries hard not to become too excited. Being so close to her felt so good but he can’t help but question this. He knows he’s a little tipsy and he’s sure she is after the amount of rounds they had.

“Katrina…”

“Kat. Call me Kat.”

Ethan moves on of his hands to trail up her arm to her neck and push some of her fro out the way and his hot breath lingers on her neck as he whispers in her ear

“What are you doing to me.”

Let the water flow

Just let it fall out from my face

Cause I never thought I'd ever hear me say

I just can't breathe without my baby

Ooh, you my baby

Ethan can feel her shiver at his words and she turns back around and place her hands over his exposed chest. Her fingers tracing his skin. She stands on her tip toes and leans up as her hands bring his face closer to hers and whispers

“Only whatever it is you do to me.”

So come and kiss up on me

As we dance close

Come and kiss up on me slow

Ethan tightens his hold on Kat and stops their movements all the while others around them keep dancing.

“Kat.” His hand tangles in her hair and his eyes roam her face and he sees desire and longing.

“Ethan.”

Ethan closes his eyes as he feels her plump lips graze over his. He moves his mouth to respond briefly as he savors the moment but the fading sound of the music sobers him up and reminds him on where he is.

He reluctantly untangles himself from Katrina and holds her hands.

“Kat...Katrina. We can’t do this.”

She looks up at him, her eyes filled with confusion.

“Why? Do you not feel…”

“No of course not. I want this so bad, but not enough to jeopardize your career and reputation. ”

“No one has to know. It’ll be our secret.”

“We’d know. Plus I can’t push you to be the best doctor you can be if I…”

He pauses and lets go of her hands and adds space between themselves.

“If you…”

He shakes his head at her.

“Let’s call it a night. We’re both tipsy and have an early morning.”

He stalks toward their room feeling he disappointed gaze on him. They make it back to their suite and both quickly change into night clothes, Ethan in his pajama pants and no shirt and Katrina pops out of the bathroom in an over-sized T-shirt that covers her torso but shows off her legs and her hair wrapped in her silk bonnet. Even in the simplest clothing he finds her so beautiful and he’s kicking himself for cutting off what could’ve happen but he reminds himself its for the best. He speaks first.

“I can take the couch and you can have the bed, Rookie.”

“Ethan, we’re both adults we can share a bed. I promise no funny business.”

“Rookie…”

Katrina cuts him off

“No. Right now I’m Kat and your Ethan. No Rookie, no Dr. anything. We have all day tomorrow for that. Let’s give ourselves this moment right now before going back to reality. Please, Ethan.”

He sighs and gets inside the left side of the bed and gestures for Katrina to get in as well. She turns off the lights and gets in on the right side. They lay down facing each other, eye to eye. Their breathing grows soft and faint. Katrina closes her eyes first and flips so her back faces Ethan.

“Good night, Ethan.” She whispers.

He’s still facing her and longs to hold her but ultimately shuts his eyes.

“Goodnight Kat.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes when he feels rustling in the bed and warmth closer to him. He opens his eyes and notices Kat moved in her sleep. He would scoot over more but he’d be in the edge of the bed and he didn’t want to risk waking her up to move her over so he just pressed closer toward her and wrapped his arm around her waist and lay his face near the crook of her neck. He knew he was well over the boundaries he attempting to draw but Ethan decided give not only himself but both of them this moment.

#choices fanfiction #choices stories you play #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC #dr ethan ramsey #open heart choices

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ariadnassecretdiary · 4 years

Text

The black swan lake AU - Third act

*Mun Ari: Ok ok~ So I’m so excited to write this third act! Ahh~ Let the romance begin! Btw~ Merry late Christmas everybody :3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

“Are you serious?” Naomi said while raising her eyebrow skeptic.

“Please, I seriously need your help” Ariadna begged but very ashamed nevertheless.

“I can’t believe you’re asking me to lie to your sister. That’s not like you at all Ari” Naomi replied.

The next day, Ariadna went early to the eagle’s kingdom seeking her best friend’s help. Yet, as Ariadna expected, she was very hard to convince.

“I know what I’m asking you is really bad as it means lying to Akane” Ariadna admitted ashamed “However, as you said: is something I wouldn’t ask you if it weren’t an emergency”.

Naomi looked at her. She was analyzing what she just said and Ariadna hoped she would agree to help her.

“Alright, I’ll help” Naomi finally replied.

Ariadna was about to jump and thank her when Naomi spoke again.

“However, I want to know the real reason as to why you’re acting like this”

Ariadna knew it was too easy to be true.

“I-I…”

“And don’t tell me something like ‘I can’t tell you’ because I’m that case forget about my help”.

“B-But!”

“Think about this: 1) you are asking me to lie to Akane, 2) in case you’re in danger I want to know where to look for you and 3) you own me something in exchange for abandon me last ball, accepting a dance invitation from an annoying suitor, who by the way didn’t leave me in peace all night long AND you had the audacity to send a maid instead of telling me directly you were excusing yourself from the night. I think is the least you could do, don’t you think~?”

Ariadna went speechless for a moment. She couldn’t say anything against all the arguments she just gave to her. Besides it was clear Naomi was hurt from what happened that night.

“You’re right...first of all I’m sorry for that night. I was being unfair and rude to you”.

“I accept your apology since I may have an idea as to why you left so suddenly. It was for what I told you about Isaac, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes…”

“Well, I see...and then?”

“And secondly...please I want you to wait until I finish everything I’m about to tell you. It’s a long story...and a VERY strange one too”

Ariadna then told Naomi about Kino. She told her how the next day of the ball she went deep into the forest and a raven stole her family ring. She told him about the strange phenomenon the prince experienced each day after the sun would set, how he threw her ring into the lake and told her that from that day she had to make him company so she could get back her ring.

“And that’s the story” Ariadna concluded.

Naomi stayed quiet, but Ariadna could see Naomi’s face shown complete disbelief.

“You are seriously telling me all this time you’ve been going to the forest just to keep company to this enchanted prince?”

“Yes?”

Naomi then laughed.

“Now now~ you have a great sense of humor Ari~. But please now tell me the truth”

“I AM telling you the truth”

“Ari there’s no way a prince would turn into a swan. Magic only exist in fairytales”

“See? That’s why I couldn’t tell Akane and I didn’t want to tell you either. It’s difficult to believe…”

“Ok. Let’s imagine I believe that ‘magic’ part of the story. But taking that aside: are you seriously seeing in secret with a mysterious guy in the middle of the forest?”

“Yes…?”

“Ariadna! Who would have thought~?”

“Don’t misunderstand!”

“You seriously thought I would say that!? Ariadna that isn’t correct! What if someone followed you and saw you!? You would be in serious trouble!”

“I know that! But I have no choice! He has my ring! Do you know what would happen if my parents or Akane if they found out all this!? They’ll never let me leave the castle ever again and they might even disinherit me!”

“This Kino you are talking about...I don’t like him already. If he were a prince as he claims to be he seriously lack manners! And how dare he treat you in such a way! To treat a princess as yourself so lowly!”

“W-Well...he doesn’t know I’m a princess…”

“WHAT!? Why you haven’t told him?”

“You know how much I hate brag about being a princess”.

“Yet! He needs to know who he’s messing with!”

“I don’t think it’ll matter to him anyway...I’ve know him for a while now and I really don’t think he know how to treat people in general”

“How can you stand him? I would have given up already”

“I did everything for my ring only”

“Is that so…? Well, I think you need to tell him Ari! He needs to know you’re his equal”

“It doesn’t matter...I don’t plan on going back anyway”

“Why so?”

“You see...we had a fight just yesterday and I don’t want to see him anymore. I’ve had enough”

“Wow~ for you to say that, it must have been something dead wrong~”

“He offended me and my family. That added up with his mistreatments I really had enough…”

“Unbelievable! But...what’s about your ring?”

“I-I think I should tell my parents the truth...maybe they’ll understand?”

“Or~ Even better~”

“Huh?”

“We, my dear friend, will get your ring back”

“What!?”

“As you heard dear~ a family shield isn’t something replaceable. We need to take it back no matter what!”

“B-But”

“In fact! We’ll go and get it tomorrow! I’ll go and visit your sister and after a while we’ll excuse ourselves and we’ll force that prince to give back your ring!”

“I-I really don’t want to see him...and I don’t think he’ll hand it out that easy”

“Then...we’ll get in once he’s not around~. When is he ‘supposedly’ away?”

“During the day he’s still in his swan form...so we may be able to take the ring and escape without him noticing it!”

“Then~ we have a plan~”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The next day, Naomi arrived to have supper with the Koizumi princesses. They chat for a while, however Ariadna had a difficult time acting as nothing was wrong.

The reunion last longer than expected since Akane really wanted to know what exactly Ariadna did all these time at the eagle kingdom. Naomi surprisingly managed each question Akane asked her and when the topic finished they even had a small walk.

“I’m so sorry if this comes out very rude, but Princess Akane may I ask for your permission to stay over the night? Sadly, my parents will be out due to some businesses they need to attend and I don’t wish to stay all by myself in my home”

Ariadna mentally clapped for Naomi’s smooth way to assure her plan would go as planned.

“It isn’t rude at all Princess Naomi. I suppose they’ll be going to the kingdom’s annual reunion I presume?” Akane replied

“Yes. They insist I should stay since one member of the royal family must stay just in case. Yet staying on my own makes me uneasy”

“Hmm...I don’t think that having you as our guest would be a trouble. In fact, I think it’s a great idea since unfortunately my parents asked me to attend as well. However, just like you just said we want Ariadna to stay for the same reason you would. It would leave us more at ease if two ladies stay together rather than by themselves”

Ariadna looked impressed towards Naomi and she simply winked at her.

“Marvelous! I’m so grateful for your hospitality~”

A few hours later, Akane left the castle, followed by many guards and maids, leaving Ariadna and Naomi behind.

Then they both worked on their plan. They told the servants not to wait for them and to head back to their rooms until they needed anything. They told them they would go for a ride and to not bothered them.

They left and Ariadna lead the way until they arrived to the waterfall.

Naomi had the same reaction as Ariadna did back when she first saw the landscape before them.

They walked as discreetly as they could until they reached the famous lake. Lucky for them there was no sign of both Yuri nor Kino around.

“Well then. We need to hurry. The reunion and the preparations took longer than expected. Still we have some time before the sun sets and Kino comes” Ariadna whispered to Naomi.

“Sure. Then let’s review the plan: I’ll wait here to guard that crow you told me about or the sign of any swan”

“Not just any swan, he’s a black swan”

“Right right. You on the other hand will go and take the ring back from the lake and as soon as you come back we’ll be out of here!”

“Great! Now. I shouldn’t take long! See you! Remember to hide!”

Ariadna headed back to the lake and hoped everything went according to plan. She was worried they didn’t calculated the time correctly and Kino would arrive or Yuri would tell Kino about their presence. Ariadna pushed those thoughts away and then took her armor out. Once she was ready she jumped into the lake. She swam deeper into the lake looking for her ring.

Meanwhile, Naomi was alert of her surroundings. Any sound would make her uneasy and each flying bird would be a suspect for her. It was getting dark and Naomi was getting nervous, she felt Ariadna was taking so long. Besides: didn’t she tell her about how Kino and that bird spy of his would be here in any moment?

She then suddenly thought she caught a glimpse of light, but decided to ignore it and focus more in Ariadna’s return.

“What are you doing miss?” she heard a voice.

Naomi jumped and turned around to find a tall yet good looking boy. He had a long black hair and black eyes. He dressed in a formal way and looked at her with a serious expression.

“Oh dear! Don’t do that! I almost fainted!” She looked at him angrily

“What is a young lady as yourself doing here?” the boy continued.

“That is none of your business! I could ask the same thing, is it a hobby of yours hide and scare ladies such as myself?”

“That wasn’t my intention at all miss. I beg your pardon”

(He’s very polite...maybe he’s like this towards strangers? No! I won’t let myself fooled!)

“Well, apology accepted. Yet, I you don’t mind I would appreciate you to leave me alone for the time being”.

“I’m afraid I must have to insist. This is no safe place for a lady to be on her own. Besides, if you’re here for the hunting season this place is forbidden to carry those activities out”

“As I’ve said I have no obligation to answer any of your questions! Just who you think you are?” Naomi said “you have some nerve Mr. Kino. I didn’t want to believe such a despicable being such like yourself would exist. But for having my friend to do as you said and having the audacity to even offending her is unacceptable!”

“Kino? I think you are confused. I’m not Kino”

“Heh~? Is that so? Then who might you be?”

“My name is Yuri miss. I’m Kino’s companion and most loyal servant. If you’re looking for him, right now is not a good moment”

(Yuri? Where I’ve heard this name before…?)

“Is that so? Then tell your boss to learn some manners before insulting my friend, understood? She’s a respectable lady and he needs to treat her accordingly!”

“Your friend? Does it happen to be called Miss Ariadna?”

“You know her?”

“I brought her here. She’s being visiting Prince Kino for the past weeks”

“So it was your doing? You!”

“PLEASE HELP!”

Suddenly, Naomi and Yuri stopped when they listened to a distant plead.

“What was that?” Yuri asked

“Oh no… Ariadna!”

Naomi ran towards the direction of the voice.

“Wait! Miss!” Yuri shouted and ran after Naomi.

It took Ariadna some minutes before she glimpsed a small sparkle at the very bottom of the lake and looking closer she found that indeed it was her ring. She took a small bag from her belt and introduced her ring.

(Great! Now, once I get to the surface I won’t have to deal with Kino anymore! I’ll be free!)

She swam back to the surface as fast as she could yet when she was about to reach the surface she suddenly felt a tug on her left foot. She looked down and saw that she had accidentally passed too close to some seaweed and had her foot stuck. She pulled her foot trying to free it, but it wouldn’t pull out. Ariadna started panicking, since she was starting lacking air and the more she tried the more she seemed to tangle. To make things worst, she left her knife outside next to her armor since it would add weight to her and could have made her slow down.

She looked above and saw the surface was rather close. The pulled as much as she could and somehow managed to take her head just a tiny bit outside the surface and shout:

“PLEASE HELP!”

Yet the felt a tug and was taken back inside the water.

Ariadna pulled and pulled yet the desperation was taking over her as well as fear. She was going to died in the worst way possible. What if nobody found her body? What if Naomi got stuck as well trying to get her body? What about her families? Her head was getting lighter by each passing minute and she was losing energy to free herself.

(Guess...this is it… Akane… mom… father… Naomi… I’m so sorry...I did my best… to not cause you trouble… yet I ended up like this…Please...forgive me and...I love you)

The last she saw was the last bubbles of air leaving her body and some sort of figure approaching her… probably she would end up as food for the crocodile and have a use in the last moments of existence…

Naomi arrived to the lake and desperate looked for her friend. She was in trouble, but she couldn’t see where she was.

“Miss! Hold on! You shouldn’t be here!” Yuri arrived Just shortly after her.

“SHUT UP YURI! My friend might be in danger!”

“What? You mean that voice was…”

“Yes! It was Ariadna’s voice! Oh God! What should I do!? It’s been various minutes, since she dive into the lake!! What if she got caught by the crocodile!?”

“Miss calm down”

“There’s no way I’ll do it! ARIADNA! WHERE ARE YOU!?” Naomi then shouted.

Yuri was dead worried: not only did Miss Ariadna had brought a stranger, but now she was probably drowning in the lake. This was bad…

Then he heard a landing behind them and after a strong light Yuri heard some fast footsteps coming his way.

Yuri looked towards the steps only to find no other than Kino who just had transformed into his human form.

While Yuri was relieved he had arrived just in time, Naomi went speechless. When she heard the sound of some wings and the landing of something she turned around only to find a black swan who out of nowhere started to shine. A few seconds later a young man appeared and walked towards them. That must certainly had to be Kino.

“W-What!? H-How did–!?”

“Where is she?” Kino interrupted Naomi

“I-In the lake! Please sir! I think she’s drowning!”

Without any other word Kino passed through Naomi and jumped into the lake.

Once underwater, Kino looked around for Ariadna and finally spotted her floating motionless. He approached her quickly, she was already unconscious probably due to the lack of air. He looked and saw she had her feet stuck in the seaweed he warned her to begin with. He took out his knife and cute the seaweed to finally take Ariadna to the surface.

He gasped for air and he was helped by both Yuri and Naomi.

“ARIADNA! OH GOD!” Naomi placed her ear into her chest to listen if she was breathing “ARIADNA! PLEASE WAKE UP!”

Yuri looked over Kino and saw that his expression was rather new: was he worried? He did saved Ariadna and that was something he couldn’t believed.

“She needs reanimation! Oh dear!” Naomi said and when she was about to do it, Kino won and started to do so.

1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3. Nothing…

“You have to give her mouth to mouth!” Naomi said in a hurry.

“Excuse me?” Kino replied

“OTHERWISE SHE WON’T BREATHE! EITHER YOU DO IT OR MOVE ASIDE!”

Kino looked at her annoyed and then looked down to Ariadna. He sighed and joined lips into hers. They were so soft and tender. He breathed and then started animating her and then kissed her once again. After what they felt like precious minutes: Ariadna coughed water and breathed on her own.

“THANK GOODNESS!! Ariadna! Are you ok?”

Yet they noticed she fell unconscious although now she was breathing.

“I need to take her back ho–” Naomi’s words trail off when, she felt some hands placed on her shoulders.

“I think is better if you stay at least until Miss Ariadna wake up. She’ll be ok, in the meantime: Kino please take her somewhere safe”

Yuri helped stand up Naomi and guided her towards the mountain nearby. When they were far enough Kino looked down into Ariadna. She looked so peaceful and calm…unlike when she was awake. He was about to take her into his arms, when noticed she was tightly grabbing something in one of her hands. He took it and saw it was a tiny purse and when he opened it…his heart sank.

Inside the purse was her ring. The ring that assured she’ll come everyday until he decided it was enough.

Now everything made sense: Ariadna entered the lake to get it and never come back. If it weren’t for the incident, Ariadna would have succeeded and that would have been his end. He definitely had underestimated Ariadna and he wouldn’t have realized she wouldn’t have come back if she had achieved her mission. Somehow, he felt betrayed for Ariadna’s decision. How could she? He then wouldn’t have been able to see her again.

Without any word, Kino kept Ariadna’s ring with him and took Ariadna in his arms. He wanted an explanation as soon as she was woke up.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Ariadna slowly woke up feeling a little dizzy. She looked around confused her surroundings. Everything seemed normal. It was rather dark, she was laying in a comfortable bed covered in warm blankets, there were some papers hanging on the walls and finally the little light that allowed her to see her surroundings came for a simple chimney. It looked rather masculine, yet it didn’t made sense. Didn’t she died? Was this how heaven looked like? Or…was it hell?

“You’re finally awake” she suddenly heard.

She turned around to the chimney and saw Kino seated in a nearby chair. When she tried incorporating she noticed she was only in her undergarments and quickly covered herself.

“H-HOW!? Did you made this!? Where are my clothes!?” Ariadna asked embarrassed yet angry.

“Your clothes are the least of your problems now”

Kino stood up and looked at her pissed. He approached her and Ariadna could feel the fear taking over her.

“D-Don’t come close to me! How could you have taken my clothes away!? Hold on!” she looked around the bed. “w-where is it?”

“What are you looking for?” his voice deep with anger.

“N-Nothing…”

“I know understand what you were doing at the bottom of the lake: You tried taking your ring, didn’t you?”

He spoke in a low yet dangerous tone. He knew already, so there was no point in denying it.

“I-I did…”

“You are aware you tried to break your promise? You did it on purpose?”

“I do. In fact, I planned not to see you, but my plan got ruined by some seaweed.”

“How could you? Why would you do so?”

“Because I’ve had enough. You were constantly being cruel to me and you offended me greatly. If you don’t like me at all, why you insist in keeping me here?”

“You were the one that started getting on my nerves! You need to learn your place ‘peasant’”

“I won’t do as you said anymore! I don’t deserve such mistreatments, no one does!”

“I should have let you drown in the lake in the end”

“Too bad~ you should have...wait… I-It was you who saved me…?”

“Of course! Who else? That friend of yours wouldn’t be useful at all”

“Naomi!? Where is she?”

“She’s waiting outside…she was the one that took your clothes away”

“W-Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? They were drenched wet and if she hadn’t taken them out you would have gotten pneumonia or something of the sort”

Ariadna felt guilty now. Not only she had been caught…but now she was rude to Kino who risked his life to save her.

“I’m sorry…and thank you”

“Whatever…”

“I mean it! You saved my life and…I-I think I owe you an apology…”

Kino turned around surprised written all over his face. Was she seriously apologizing?

“Thank you for saving my life and I’m sorry for accusing you for taking my clothes away.”

“That’s it? What about our discussion of a few days ago?”

“I won’t apologize for that, in fact: I think you also owe me an apology”

“Me!?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t have tried to retrieve my ring if you weren’t mean to me!”

“Y-You!”

“Am I wrong? You think that is the correct way to treat others?”

“It’s natural, after all I’m a–”

“You seriously believe just for being a ‘prince’ you have the right to do as you please and treat others poorly? No Kino, you’re wrong”

“Then how you think a prince should behave then? As if you knew!”

“Well, if we take away your title of prince: what is it that you have left?”

Kino went silent. Then, a bitter memory came back to him:

‘I took everything you have away, now tell me Kino: what you have left~? That, my dear, is for you to find it out~’ Kino heard Sabine’s voice echoing in his head that day when she transformed him into a swan and placed him in that small forest.

A small silence followed and Ariadna was about to speak when there was a knock in the door.

“Excuse me: Kino-san I would like to check on Ariadna if you don’t mind. Is she awake?” Naomi’s voice sounded behind the door.

Kino sighed and opened the door.

“She is. I’ll leave you alone”

Kino exited and left both ladies alone.

“How are you feeling?” Naomi asked while handing her dry clothes.

“Good, thank you” replied Ariadna getting dressed.

“Oh dear, guess our little plan didn’t worked”

“It can’t be helped, I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble”

“It should be me Ari, in the end I was the one that got us discovered when Yuri-san found me and then out of desperation attracted Kino’s attention as well”

“If it wasn’t for that, then I would have died. Thank you”

“It wasn’t me, it was Kino-san in the end”

“Yes…”

“What is it Ari?”

“Is just that he’s so difficult to understand…I never know what is on his mind”

“Hmm…why would you want to understand him to begin with? Could it be you have developed some sort of affection towards him~?”

Ariadna blushed from Naomi’s words.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Why would I? Don’t you remember anything that I told you about him?”

“I do~ in fact I already gave him a piece of my mind when you were still unconscious. However… he did saved you, he didn’t give me the chance to do it. Also, you should have seen his face: he was so worried”.

“He? Worried for me? Really…?”

(Well, that’s new) Ariadna thought surprised.

“Ari…I’m no one to say something about it, but I think that someone that worries about you like he did. Maybe deserves a second chance to redeem, don’t you think?”

Ariadna remained silence, Naomi made a good point. For some reason she couldn’t completely understand, Kino seemed really insistent about being her friend. Maybe…he wasn’t very good at making them, so she could put a little more on her behalf.

There was another knock on the door and Yuri entered the room.

“Miss Naomi and Miss Ariadna the sun is about to rise. You need to get back home, I’ll lead the way out”

They both nodded and headed out. On their way out the forest, Naomi was walking next to Yuri and Ariadna and Kino went behind them. There was an awkward silence and Ariadna kept thinking about how to bring the topic and make peace.

“Kino l-listen…I’m sorry I tried breaking our promise. How about this: how about if we start over? We started a little hurried and with the left foot, so we can start now correctly…”

Kino suddenly stopped.

“Why the sudden change in mind?”

“I-I heard from Naomi what you did for me. I think is the least I could do to show you my gratitude”

Kino looked at her and finally said:

“Well, then”

“BUT! There are some conditions: 1) I want you to stop calling me peasant; 2) you need to treat me better and…”

“And? You have some nerve”

“AND 3) for this to work we need to work together. That is the only way we can be able to find the way for us to get along. So, what you say?”

Kino wanted to opposed, but when he looked from the corner of his eyes that Yuri was looking at them…serious.

“It can’t be helped…”

“Well~ See you tomorrow Kino”

Ariadna left with Naomi and once they were gone, Yuri approached Kino and smiled satisfied.

“Just for you to know: I made this to assure we get out of Sabine’s grasp, that’s it”

With that said Kino turned around and headed back to the lake. Within a few minutes the sun would be out and he had to go back to his swan form. If things worked out… his swan days were counted for good.

To be continued…

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

*Mun Ari: Yes, I know. “Mun Ari! The episodes are so long! When are we going to get some romance? I want to end with this!”. Come on! Romance doesn’t simply grow in the trees, you know? I needed to develop their relationship correctly! I’m thankful for your kind words and I do apologize for the length, I know is a bother. I’ll try to keep the remaining ones short! Anyway~ Thank you for reading! It mean the world to me! And prepare yourselves! The next episodes will be really romantic!

#ariadnassecretdiary #inside ariadna's diary #ariadnaxkino #Ariadna Koizumi Martínez #Kino #black swan lake AU #chapter 3 :3 #very long!!#thanks for reading!!#to be continued~!#Mun Ari's crappy writing #diabolik lovers oc #diabolik lovers latino

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journeysintowebcomics · 5 years

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Worm Liveblog #107

UPDATE 107: The Classic Question

Last time there was an interlude. Defiant and Dragon continued their hunt for the Slaughterhouse Nine, finding they had caused carnage in a hospital. So now it’s back to Brockton Bay with the Undersiders. Will they have some peace? Let’s find out.

Looks like Taylor is still hanging out in her territory, watching things happening and the construction progress. I suppose she’s without her costume, so it should be easy for her to go around without being noticed. The construction is progressing nicely, and it doesn’t seem like there are any problems going on. This makes her think about the current situation, she’d have liked to go demand Coil for him to let Dinah go, since they fulfilled his demand of keeping their grip on the city. Even though Coil had promised to let go of Dinah, I really don’t think he’ll fulfill it. Call me a skeptical, I just don’t think he’ll let go of someone who’s been such an advantage for him.

It wasn’t like she could have gone to make her own demands; Trickster had already gone to have a talk.

Trickster’s focus was on Noelle, though, and nothing I’d seen indicated that Coil had made any advances on that front. All I knew, really, was what Tattletale had told me and the little things that had come up in our brief discussion with the Travelers about our strategy. She’d been a girl, maybe not in the best of health.

It was possible Trickster had been trying to save Noelle in the same way I was trying to save Dinah. The circumstances were different, obviously: Coil was the best answer the Travelers had to Noelle’s situation, but he was the cause of Dinah’s.

You know, if Skitter takes Coil out of the way, I wonder how she’ll handle Noelle’s situation. She can’t just walk away and pretend nothing is happening, she’ll have to at least give a temporary solution. The problem is that neither she nor anyone reading this story at this point knows what exactly is going on. There’s enough evidence it’s something very nasty and needs a lot of precautions, but without any information she can’t even do anything. If only she had an idea of what was happening...I’m not saying she’d be able to come up with a solution Noelle and the Travelers need, but clearly the Noelle Situation is going to be something to consider and deal with.

Oh, looks like I misinterpreted the stuff so far. Taylor is not going around in her territory; she’s examining everything with her bugs. It’s the next day, but she’s currently in the hideout, lying on her bed with her eyes half-open.

Somehow Brian managed to sleep somewhat. It’s not a good night of sleep, but it must have been better than any of the last few nights, no? It’ll do him good, physically he’s in perfect shape, but mentally he’s...well, he’s still traumatized, so sleeping may do him some good. I just hope he’s not having bad dreams. He doesn’t want to see a therapist yet.

Now that I think about it, what are the Undersiders’ options for mental health? Can they go see a therapist? Can they ask Coil for help about this? I’m not sure they can have access to psychologists or therapists due to their status as villains, and they can’t talk to a civilian therapist given their issues stem from supervillainy. All in all, they seem to be kind of screwed.

As if to show how not okay Brian is, he says how he has to force himself to lower his guard while he’s here spending time with Skitter, not because he doesn’t trust her or anything, but because he’s perpetually on alert.

“That’s not what I mean. I mean, you know. I… I can’t relax. Can’t stay still, can’t stop watching over my shoulder or make my brain stop replaying scenes in my head. Except I can, if I’m active, if I’m doing something like we were against those Dragon suits, or if I’m with you, and I’m lying here in your bed, trying not to wake you up. Then I know I can’t get worked up, it gives me these boundaries I can force myself to work inside.”

There’s this saying that says the devil loves idle hands, but I guess when you’re as traumatized as Brian is, the devil also messes with the heads. Damn, I hope he’ll be okay...

Ah, Taylor has plans with Dad Hebert! It has been so long since she spent time with him, so I’m glad to see this. I hope this family time will go without any trouble! A nice day, without having to worry much about the villainy and everything it brings along, would do her some good.

Breakfast time, where they try to avoid talking about anything related to work. The most they did was comment about how Skitter hasn’t progressed in mastering the listen through the bugs part, and at this point I don’t think she’ll be capable of doing such a thing without a second trigger...and I really, really don’t want her to have a second trigger. It just is something nobody should go through – heck, the first trigger is something nobody should go through.

Brian talks about his past, and other than his martial artist proficiency there’s not much detail even though Brian talked about some heavy stuff. I imagine it was nothing that wasn’t known before, then. After their conversation, they took a walk around the territory, seeing how the civilians help the construction crews. This makes her wonder how it’s possible she has civilians on her side after everything that was happened.

I felt like I should be losing people each time I got pulled into a fight against a major threat. I had, when Mannequin and Burnscar had attacked, but I’d walked away from the first Mannequin fight with something of a following, and I’d expected to see my people leaving in droves after Dragon made her move. Except it wasn’t happening, and I wasn’t entirely sure why.

I’m not certain either, I have to admit, but if I had to guess, maybe Skitter’s sincere efforts to help and work for the territory’s wellbeing has been noticed and are now being rewarded. I admit I’m not entirely certain that’s the reason, though. In my opinion, everyone’s opinion of Skitter will be revealed further once the territory is fixed and in decent condition. Only then everyone will show what they truly think. I’m positive Skitter will continue working for everyone’s wellbeing, but will people still accept her after things are okay?

Still, fighting Dragon’s drones was quite a risk and not the action of someone who doesn’t support her, so I’m sure Skitter has fans anyway.

Family time! Taylor walks to her home, seeing a lot of cars in front of the house, cars she doesn’t recognize. For a moment she fears Coil is backstabbing her and putting Dad Hebert in danger, and she mentions in the narration how he has a knife and pretty much a nest of wasps and spiders in her pants – oh god, the mere thought of that is incredibly unnerving – so she takes the plunge and goes to the front door.

Dad Hebert has guests! Family friends and work pals, judging by the person who opened the door. I’m glad despite everything things are well enough for socialization. Taylor is greeted, she doesn’t seem...very enthused about seeing people here, I guess because she expected to be alone with Dad Hebert.

This wasn’t Dad Hebert’s idea; it was an impromptu social visit. Personally I think it’s good, some levity is good in their lives, what with the current situation in the city and all.

Nobody that could be a threat, none of Coil’s people. I let myself relax. What had I been thinking? That he’d strongarm my dad?

In Skitter’s defense, it’s not really impossible. Coil is capable of doing anything if it helps his goals, and Skitter is a liability with her pesky moral opinions. I wouldn’t be surprised if he attacks Dad Hebert at some point to try to dissuade her.

There’ll be a mayoral debate later, and it sounds like afterwards there’ll be votes to define who the mayor will be. I remember Coil had said he had a couple puppets in that race, so in 24 hours he both got the heroes out of his hair and most likely will win the mayoral race. It’s like in this day everything he had worked for is solidifying.

They want Dad Hebert to come by and ask questions about the ferry they all work at, so they all have one thing more to be dissatisfied about with the current mayor – the guy who, may I remind everyone, was intimidated in his own home like three days ago. That incident must have been kept under wraps, judging by how everyone has a very negative opinion of the mayor arguing in Washington Brockton Bay shouldn’t be quarantined and evacuated.

That surprised me. “You’re not happy the city was saved from being condemned? Did you want to be kicked out of the city? To leave your home?”

“It’d suck, but the way they were talking about it in the paper, there’s a big fund that’s set aside for covering the damages those Endbringer motherfuckers cause. Idea was that they’d dip into those funds, give everyone that they ousted a bit to cover the cost of their homes.”

Given the amount of people I don’t think it’d have been much money given to everyone. While I’m sure it’d be a decent amount, I’m not sure it would be enough for the cost of relocating and having to acquire a new place to live in, as well as furniture and everything a home must have. Besides, I’m sure wherever they all go, there’ll be villains too, so...to me as a reader it’s a bit hard to know what’d be the best situation for someone.

They’d give what the houses are worth right now. How much would that be...a couple hundred thousand dollars, perhaps, per home owner? Golly, the government would have needed a huge fund.

Since everyone seemed to have given up on Brockton Bay despite the construction work, Taylor may have felt like her efforts were getting disrespected, because she brings up a “hypothetical” question: would it be better to live in a city where the villains rule but things are actually okay, or where the villains have no control but things are awful?

Turning to me, he said, “I suppose you’re asking the classic question, Taylor. Would you rather be a slave in heaven or a free man in hell?”

Call me selfish, but I sure would rather live in a place where things are okay, even if...there’s this cloud of terror over everything. Not having immediate safety is terrifying, let me tell you. When you have immediate safety, you can plan for a future where you can get out from under that cloud of terror.

This meeting is a reminder that there will always be people who don’t like the idea of being under villains’ benevolent reign, and it’s a completely valid position. Honestly I can’t say there are many positions that aren’t acceptable here, as long as said positions don’t involve hurting your fellow citizens.

“I’d rather not be a slave or in hell,” my dad responded. “But sometimes I worry I’m both. Maybe we don’t get the choice?”

Honestly, in the city’s current situation? Yeah, that sounds about right. It’ll be a while before things get better.

They ask Taylor why she’s bringing such a thing up, and Taylor takes the chance to point out the villains are the ones making noticeable steps to make things better. I don’t doubt the heroes have done their part as well, frankly, but given how what they have done hasn’t been mentioned yet, maybe their work is behind the scenes, instead of immediate relief.

“The problem with that,” my dad said, “Is that we’d be setting humanity back by about three thousand years if we let that happen. It’d be falling back into an iron age mindset and leadership. The people with the numbers and the weaponry lay claim to an area through sheer military strength. They stay in charge as long as they can through family lines, merging families with whoever else has the military strength. That lasts until the family in power peters out or someone smarter, stronger or better armed comes in to seize control. Might not sound so bad, until you figure that sooner or later, the person who gets control is going to be someone like Kaiser.”

Hate to admit it, but he’s right. There’s no guarantee the Undersiders will always have control, or even that their reign will be good for the civilians forever. It’s possible in the future someone will try to take them off their thrones. I just hope when such a thing happens a hero’s the one to do it instead of a villain. But hey, silver lining! The world is going to end in less than two years, so it’s not like there will be time for any villain to defeat the Undersiders and take over Brockton Bay! Haha! Ha! Ha...oh man, that’s grim.

Either way, as I see it, the best course of action would be to play along in the hopefully peaceful Brockton Bay the villains will have – apparently – and try to get money and everything in order to get the heck out of the city, go somewhere else where things aren’t like this. That’s going to take a long while to do, though, so...yeah.

Sounds like in this debate there may be talk about the villains and the superheroes! Great! Time to find out about the public opinion.

“I’d offer you a drink,” Kurt said, chuckling, “But that’d be against the law. How old are you, anyways?”

“Fifteen,” I said.

“Sixteen.”

I turned to look at my dad.

“It’s the nineteenth,” he said. “Your birthday was a week ago.”

“Oh.” I’d been a little distracted at the time. A week ago, that would have been around the time we were wrapping up our confrontation with the Slaughterhouse Nine. Lovely.

You know, with everything that happens, sometimes I forget Taylor isn’t even an adult yet. Many of the things she and her friends do and think make me forget they’re teenagers. A bunch of teenagers control half of the city. Oh god, if I didn’t know like half of those teenagers are trustworthy enough I’d be kind of scared.

Time to go! While they get into a car, Dad Hebert comments Taylor has changed, that not long ago she’d have stayed silent while everyone talked and she wouldn’t have offered her opinion. He’s right about that, yup. If there’s one thing her villainy has done is make her more assertive. Good for her!

Taylor warning Dad Hebert led to everyone else’s safety. I’m glad! I’m also glad Dad Hebert has friends he can be with. He deserves much better than what his life during Worm has been, seriously. I just hope he doesn’t die anytime soon, or at all.

There are just like five hundred people in the town hall, not a lot when it’s a city. Taylor can see the candidates, three in total. Doesn’t that mean Coil pretty much bought the rest of the competition? Any result that isn’t the current mayor keeping his job will be favorable to him. I really thought there would be more candidates, although I never doubted Coil would get his puppet in the seat of power.

While they wait for everything to start, Taylor makes her usual examination of the surroundings, finding a lot of vans with soldiers – soldiers that aren’t with the PRT. Is it a military presence, perhaps sent by the government? For security reasons?

The armored limousine pulled into the middle of the street, just outside the front doors. By the time Coil climbed out of the vehicle, his soldiers were either just past the doors on either side of the building or standing at the ready to accompany him by the front.

Oh. He’s here, at the town hall. Things are going to happen and they won’t be good at all. Will he claim credit for everything that’s happening in the city, both good and bad? I don’t think he’ll try to make himself the mayor right then and there, because then what would be the point of having two candidate puppets? He’s planning something, that’s for sure, but I’m not sure what it’ll be. I almost never can figure out what it’ll be before it happens, hah.

Either way, this should be a good place to stop. There’ll be some stuff happening next time! What I wonder, though, is if it will be in a new arc or in this one. I can’t wait to find out what’ll happen!

Next time: in two updates

#worm #worm liveblog #webserial #liveblog #webserial liveblog

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b0blegum · 6 years

Text

Why Am I Here? [seven]

Author: b0blegum

Pairing: Patient!Shin Hoseok x Psychiatrist!Reader

Rating: R

Genre: Psychiathriller (and a lot of smutty romance too)

Words: 2297 (i’m surprised myself to write this long)

WARNING MENTION OF MENTAL ILLNESSES

Status: ON GOING

TRAILER

Summary

He was once an excellent doctor. An excellent psychiatrist. Everyone loved him. He was nice, kind, always care for each other, he even got the look. We can say… he was the whole package. But his glorious days ended in just one night. The night he woke up as a patient in the asylum where he worked, with no memory of why he is there or what he has done.

note: thank you for still being supportive all along and sorry to make you wait, but here you go! Finally, the 7th chapter of Why Am I Here? Hope you’ll enjoy this as much as i’m writing it xo

Stacks of papers were piling on your desk. Some were left open, while some still left untouched. Your fingers trailed on every highlighted sentence and combined those important notes, hoping you could get a bit of clue of what happened with your patient.

It had been almost four hours you were stuck with the files. You re-read all of the files from the very first time Hoseok got admitted until now, but none of them said even once that Hoseok was implying that he really did kill the girl on that night.

You leaned back with your head lulled back. There was only two possibilities on why he was like this. One, he had dissociative identity disorder or two, he really did not do that.

“The hospital...” you quickly reminded of something. “Why would the hospital tortured him if he had DID?” You went through the files once again to find any slight clue of a DID symptoms. “It must be here... somewh— oh, God!”

You jumped at the sudden bell of your apartment. Feeling confused and cautious, you tried to remember who you invited to come at this hour. Obviously no one.

You tip-toed to the front door and took a peek from the peephole when the bell rung once again.

“Minhyuk?” You talked to yourself in the lowest tone possible. “What is he doing coming here at this hour?” You squinted.

The bell rung once again.

“Who’s there?” You asked, pretended not knowing who the guest was.

“It’s me, Minhyuk.” He answered calmly, showing his face to the peephole and smiled cutely. You gave yourself a second to think whether or not you’d let him in. “(Y/n), i... came to say sorry, about the other day, I—“

You swung open the door, causing the guy stopped mid sentence. “Let’s talk inside.” Minhyuk stepped in and walked before you. “Have a seat. Water? Beer? Cola?” You asked as you made your way to the kitchen.

“Cola would be great.” He answered, bumping himself onto the couch.

“So... what is it?” You asked, walking back to the living room and seat side to side with the blonde. He shifted himself now that he was facing your direction.

“I... am terribly sorry. You know, i was so rude to you the other day and i... kissed you. I didn’t mean to scare you. I—“ He looked down for a second. “(Y/n), please just stay away from all of these.” He grabbed your hands and stroked them gently.

“Minhyuk? What do you mean?”

He sighed. “You asked me if there was something going on at the hospital and yes, there was. There still is.”

“Tell me. Is it related to my patient?”

“It’s— i don’t know. I once found Mrs. Lincoln and her bodyguards dragging Hoseok one day, but one of her bodyguards found me accidentally stalking them and—“

“And?”

“He told me to stay away and there’s nothing to look at.” His voice started shaking. “That’s why i did that to you so that... so that Mrs. Lincoln wouldn’t know what you did at that night.”

“When was it? Than you saw them?” You asked.

“Doesn’t matter when, the point is—“

“Minhyuk, it does! He is my patient and i have the right to know what happen to him—“

“(Y/n), listen. The point is. Whatever they do, it’s dangerous and you need to stay away. One thing i can tell you is that... shit, i am so done if i say this,” he whispered the last sentence, while looking away. “Mrs. Lincoln might look as soft as freshly bake honey muffin with colorful sprinkle on the outside, but she is actually a rotten burnt out french toast in the inside.”

Your eyebrows raised at his parable. As weird as he said, you still understand it nonetheless.

Your brain quickly recalled all the memories of you and Mrs. Lincoln. Yes, she was really a nice lady the first time you came in to the institution. She was all smiles and you somehow could see it in her eyes that she really was a nice person, but Minhyuk saying all of these just gave you a second thought about the woman. Could the woman, who is the chair of the institution played one of her patients dirty? But why? And why it had to be Hoseok? There were a lot other patients who did more than killing. Why him?

Just after Minhyuk told you everything about the truth of what is going on, you became suspicious about anything and of anyone. Especially Hoseok’s guard. Hyunwoo.

“Move aside.” You said as you were about to stretch your hand to the small machine attached, but the man quickly grabbed your hand. “Hey!”

“I’m sorry, but i’m afraid you are not allow to enter without permission.” He said, carefully pushing down your hand.

“But i am his doctor and i need to see him.” You tried to be calm, even though deep down you’re boiling.

“Your session starts in an hour, Dr. (y/l/n). I can only let you in at that time. Not before nor aft—“

“Alright. Hyunwoo,” you shook your head before you stared intensely at him. “You want a surprise? I already know what happened, so it’s either you let me in, or i’ll call the police and tell them about what’s really going on inside this—“ you smirked as soon as you noticed a small twitch at Hyunwoo’s eyes. It works! So he knew as well. “Institution.” You said calmly. “Come on! Open this for me.”

Hyunwoo finally did as you said. He didn’t say a word, though, but you now 100% sure he knew about what was going on, about Hoseok and Mrs. Lincoln.

You smiled in victory once you’re inside, but that smile quickly faded away when you see the boy sat on the floor, weakly, leaning against one of the bed’s leg. He was pale and looked like he could passed out anytime soon.

“Hoseok!” You yelled his name as you slid to where he was. Your first response was to check on his temperature. Putting your palm against his sweaty forehead, you could feel a burning feeling radiating from his skin. “God. You’re burning.” You whispered in panic. “Wait i’ll tell the nur—“ you were about to rushed to the door, when you felt Hoseok’s hand grabbing your with just a little power. “What? You need something?” You asked, taking his hand and holding it, trying to calm him down.

“Don–“ he said between his heavy breath. “Call the,” he coughed. His eyes were heavy and kept closing as he was talking. “The nurse.” He continued.

“But, you’re burning, Hoseok! I can’t let you laid here like this! Look at you, you’re too pale.”

“I... just need a rest.” He coughed again. “If they see me,” he took a breath. “Like this... they’d put me to a long sleep.”

“Put you to sleep?” You squinted your eyes, trying to figure out what he meant. Quickly you reminded of something, the list of all Hoseok’s medicines.

You rushed to the table to grab his files and check on the list of every medicine he took and is taking. Your finger trailed on the long list and the amount of dose he should take in a day.

“None of them would put him to a deep sleep.” You looked at the files and Hoseok. You leveled down to the boy again. “Do you remember what they give you to put you to sleep?” You asked.

The boy shook their head slowly. His energy was slowly decreasing. “They injected me,” he whispered. “It burns.”

“Injection...” you checked the list once again, trying to find any medication that’s given through an injection, but none of them was. They were all either pills or tablets.

“Are you sure?” You asked him.

Hoseok nodded weakly as he tried to do something. His hand slowly reached for his other arm and slid the sleeve up to his elbow. Showing you something. He didn’t say anything, but you were so sure what he was giving you to look at.

There were a lot of track marks on his left arm. There were too many that i’d look like he’s a drug addict or some stuff.

You trailed your fingers on his arm and checking the marks. They were all dried and form a dark spot.

“When?” You asked.

“Night... they—“

A door slammed open. Someone barged in without bother to knock at the door. Panic, you quickly slid down the sleeve of Hoseok’s top, covering the sight he just showed you. You turned around to see who’s standing sternly at the door.

“Mrs. Lincoln?” You asked, seeing the figure standing there enjoying the sight of two human sitting on the floor.

“Now is not your session, isn’t it, Dr. (y/l/n)?” She walked slowly. Her heels tapping echoed throughout the isolated room.

“Yes— but, Hoseok is burning hot and– and he would faint if we don’t give him—“

“That’s fine. He has fever all the time. Is this your first time seeing him like this?” She leveled down to touch Hoseok’s jaw and tilted it up so that the boy could see her eyes directly.

Hoseok shivered and refused to open his eyes. His fist clenched as tight as he could make it to and he breathed heavier.

He hates her. You read his obvious expression. She was faking this?

“Hyunwoo, get me his usual medicine for his fever.” She shouted.

“Mrs. Lincoln,” you called. The woman hummed in response.

“I didn’t see it listed in his record.”

“What didn’t?”

“The medicine for his fever.” You countered. The woman’s lips twitched.

“It’s just for fever, darling. All that are on the list are his daily medicine. You’re a doctor, you’re supposed to know what to be listed and what not.” She smiled.

After awhile, Hyunwoo stepped in and gave Mrs. Lincoln an injection with a clear thick substance in it. In full dose.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Lincoln, may i know what is that?” You asked when she was rolling Hoseok’s sleeve up. The boy hissed as if he was in pain, but knowing that he was to weak to do anything, it meant nothing to the woman.

“This is his usual fever medicine. Are you doubting me now, Dr. (y/l/n)?” She said. She was just an inch away of injecting it to Hoseok when the boy finally gained just enough strength to slapped Mrs. Lincoln’s hand, causing the injection to be thrown away far enough.

Instinctively, you ran and stepped on the injection, crashing it to pieces. The fluid was now all over the floor.

“God. I’m so so so sorry! I didn’t mean to— i’ll clean it all, i’m so sorry!” You squatted down and quickly wiped the substance with the inside of your coat.

“Stop right there!” Mrs. Lincoln shouted. It shocked you too much that you really stopped what you were doing.

She looked furious and panic at the same time. Her eyes twitched and went wider. “Hyunwoo, tell them to clean this up and put Hoseok back to his bed.” She told the tall guy towering behind you.

You looked at Mrs. Lincoln, about to say a word, but she already left, fixing her black long trench coat as she walked off.

“You may leave, Dr. (y/l/n).” Hyunwoo asked.

Your eyes fixed at Hoseok. You could see him smiling slightly as he looked down, burying his own face in his wet hair. His warm hands fell to the floor, making contact with the cold ground. It felt as if he was relieved of what just happened.

“Oh—“ you let your eyes off the boy and stood up. “Yes.”

Something really did happen. That injection. That injection must’ve been the one he was just talking about. It must be the thing that put him to a deep sleep.

You looked at the hem of your coat. Some of the thick substance were still there, but some were almost dried up and form a blueish stain on your coat.

You picked up your phone and dialed some numbers.

“Hello? Minhyuk? Where are you?” You asked as soon as you heard the familiar boy’s voice at the other line. “You have the key to the lab, right? Yes... yes, i need to check on something. Yes. Tomorrow? Alright. Okay. Thank you so much!”

You smiled and hung up. Feeling victorious just now that you had all this great things planned in your head and ready to solved the mystery of this institution.

You closed the door of your office and locked it up and rushingly went into a search frenzy of a small bottle that could be use to store the substance left on your coat.

It took you almost another minute to finally found a small glass bottle in the drawer and you began to extracting the remaining wet substance off your coat. After done doing that and the hem was completely dried, you heard a knocking sound on your door.

“Yes?” You asked, unlocking the door and found a laundry lady in front of your door.

“Mrs. Lincoln said you need to get your coat get cleaned up.” She said.

“What? I didn’t—“ you realised something. “Oh... right, actually—“ you took it off and showed the dried stain. “I spilled something there.”

She took it immediately without saying anything and just put it to the bag before she left, not saying anything either.

Mrs. Lincoln must’ve noticed that you had the substance in your coat and that she won’t risk you knowing what is it, but well, it’s 1 - 0 for (y/n), you already had it stored in the bottle.

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