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writingblock101 · 4 years

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Doctor’s Orders (Jason Todd x Reader)

Yeah, so this wasn’t the next request. I wrote this in the notes of my phone (it was suppose to be a few lines of dialog oops) then I was going to wait to post it until after I finished the request, but then I was really unhappy with how the last Duke request came out so I wanted to give y’all something I was actually happy with. Enjoy!

Word count: 1300

Warnings: Got a little horny on the main, but kept it low key cause I wanted it to be gender neutral.

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish @mayahoelland2013 @incrediblysadstudent (I wanted to tag you in a fic I was actually happy with but bless you for reblogging the last one!)

You walk into your apartment but immediately groan at the sight of Jason slumped on the floor, under your window. He's holding his side, meaning he's bleeding...again.

"Jason, this is the third time this week you've tried to bleed out on my living room floor," You whine, crossing the room to squat in front of him.

He chuckles weakly.

"Old habits die hard."

"Yeah, so do dumbasses with very little self preservation," You mutter, pulling his jacket back to examine the wound. "You need better armor."

"I'm on a budget," He argues with a grimace.

"Your dad is Batman," You roll your eyes. "I'm sure he can spare a few dollars if it means his dumbass son won't bleed out on some poor nurse's floor."

"I think he'll be more focused on the nurse than on my corpse," Jason grins then winces as you prod at the bullet wound.

"Please tell me you can walk," You beg. “Because there is no way in hell I can carry you to my bathroom."

"Not with that attitude," Jason bites.

You blink, a small smile trying to force its way into your face.

"Are you using my own line against me?"

"I hope to use a lot more than just a line against you," He winks.

You roll your eyes again, and pull Jason's arm over your shoulder then shift your weight, ready to stand.

"Alright, we're going to stand on three, you ready?"

Jason grimaces then braces his hand on the window sill.

"One, two, three," Jason groans in pain and you clench your teeth under the weight but push with your legs more and are able to stand with Jason weighing down on you.

"Wow," He grins weakly. "You work out?"

"Shut up," You mutter, slowly guiding him to the bathroom.

Luckily, Jason is using you more as a crutch than you actually lifting him. He seems lucid so clearly he hasn’t lost too much blood, he just needs some guidance.

"With an ass like that, you clearly don't skip leg day," Jason continues, his hand slides down your back to grab your butt.

"Jason," You sigh, trying to maneuver him through the doorway.

"It's that college drop out music, every day leg day she be too thick," Jason sings.

"Will you stop flirting with me while you're actively bleeding out?" You snap with no real heat while lowering Jason onto the toilet lid.

"Does this mean I can hit on you once you stitch me up?" He asks hopefully.

You sigh again, pulling out your first aid kit.

"Sure. I think two years of dating has earned you that right."

"Good," Jason grins as you help him pull his jacket and shirt off. "Cause what fun is it to have a hot nurse if you don't get to let them know?"

"I can think of a lot of things," You mutter, cleaning away the wound.

"You're right!" He exclaims. "Role play."

"Oh my gosh," You roll your eyes again with a small smile as a blush works it way into your cheeks.

"You're blushing!" Jason exclaims. "You're into it!" He drops his voice to the one you've dubbed his "Red Hood" voice. "You would like that, wouldn't you?"

You're truly ashamed at the shiver his low voice sends down your spine but you regain your composure as you prepare your sutures.

"What did I say about flirting with me while you're bleeding out?!"

"Sorry," Jason grins with an completely unapologetic smile. His voice drops again. "I'll be sure to make it up to you."

You shiver again, feeling heat pool in the last place you want heat pooling when you're about to stitch someone up.

"Stop it!" You snap, leaning forward to start stitching up Jason.

"Sorry, baby," He pulls you closer by your hips into a long, heated kiss. "But you just do things to me," Jason growls against your lips, his voice dropping again.

You nearly moan, melting into the kiss, then remember you are in fact holding a needle and pull away.

"Jason! We're talking five minutes to stitch you up!"

He grins again, and even soaked with sweat, and covered in blood, he's still so damn handsome (hell, you might argue that the blood and sweat are what add to the effect, but you're not going to admit that to anybody.)

"I'll let you work," He holds his hands up innocently. "But I can't promise I'll keep my hands to myself after," The look he gives you is downright sinful.

"Yeah," You mutter, leaning forward and stitching the wound together. "Well, you're not going to be able to do much with your stitches."

"Good thing I've got someone to help me out," Jason brings his hands back to your hips and kisses the side of your head.

It takes a single glare for him to grin at you unapologetically again.

"Sorry."

"Uh huh, sure you are," You roll your eyes.

"Trust me, baby, if you could see what I see every day, you'd get my inability to keep my hands to myself," He pulls on you again, his voice lowering to a growl again.

"I thought I banned you from flirting with me while stitching to up," You mutter, pulling tight on one of the stitches.

"Can't help it, gorgeous," Jason kisses your neck, making you shiver again. "You make me lose my self control."

He kisses your neck again, making you shiver and close your eyes for a moment. He's about to make you lose your self control too. You breathe in sharply, and snap your eyes open, and hone in on threading the last stitch.

"There!" You declare, securing gauze and tape over Jason's fresh stitches.

He immediately lifts you by your thighs and pins you to the wall, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

"Started thinking about you on patrol," Jason growls in his low voice. "About how I can't wait to have you under me, moaning my name," He begins to suck a hickey on your neck.

You moan softly, knotting your fingers into his hair, and your legs around his waist.

"I want you sprawled out on the sheets, begging and desperate," He continues, biting lightly where your neck and shoulder meet. "I want to feel your fingers in my hair, your nails scratching down my back," Jason thrusts against you, showing how hard he is. "You feel that?" He murmurs to you.

"Yeah," You respond breathlessly.

"That's all for you, baby," Jason growls back. "Do you have any fucking clue what you to do me?"

"I might need a demonstration," You reply, grinding down against Jason.

His hand slips into your pants. You groan, your head hitting the wall, his fingers moving in all the right ways, stroking, rubbing. Jason leans back from his spot against your neck to watch your facial expressions as he speeds his movements up. Your nails dig into his shoulders and you gasp.

"Open your eyes, baby," He murmurs to you.

You manage to force your eyes open, and lean forward to rest against his forehead.

"Jason," You moan shakily.

"That's right," He murmurs. "I want to hear you," Jason kisses you again, your mouth going slack against him.

He slows his movements, making you whine.

"Jay," You beg, grinding into his hand.

"Something wrong, baby doll?" Jason grins, leaning forward to pepper more kisses down your neck.

"Please," You beg, grinding against him. "I need you."

Jason pulls you into another long kiss.

"Well, since you asked so nicely, why don't we move this to the bedroom so I can show you my gratitude."

He carries you to the bedroom and sets you on the bed before crawling over you, and boxing you in with his huge form. Jason gives you another long kiss as his warm hands run under your shirt. As your fingers curl back into his hair, pulling him closer to you, you don't care about his stitches reopening, especially if it means you'll get to ride Jason. You suppose being Red Hood's nurse has it perks.

I don’t know why it’s been hard to motivate myself to write, but I promise that Damian request is coming soon! Hope y’all liked my blackbear reference.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd #red hood #smut #jason todd smut #red hood smut #i'm telling you these boys need to date nurses #this is really are you fucking kidding me but with sex #dc #DC comics #dc fanfiction #nurse!reader #gender nuetral #tw gore #a little bit

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natural--blues · 5 years

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Hey @megabadbunny ! I am your @dwsecretsanta! I hope you like it <3 Happy Holidays, beautiful! You did ask for some angst and fluff, so I did try to capture that. I’ll try to write a sequel for some resolution, if you’d like. ------------------------ “Off for a date with the wife?” Graham asked, cheerfully, while glancing through a newspaper from Xylon 44 (the best of all 8,000 Xylons). She had smiled, brushing off her blue button down shirt. It had flowers on it, making her think of her beloved. It was the little things that she could do during her day. She flushed a bit as she slid her leather jacket on over her shirt, adding a pair of boots that was reminiscent of her Ninth form. “Leather? S’a bit new for ya, yeah?” Ryan asked. “Wait a tick -- Wife?!” The Doctor steadily ignored the second question, ever the side-stepper. “In my Ninth body, I was a bloke from Manchester. Fresh out of the Time War. I wore my leather like armor. It’s the first time I’ve donned a leather jacket in this body.” “Did you wear it in your last?” Graham asked, casually, while Ryan and Yaz were whispering to each other about the W-word. “I did. Fancied myself a bit of a rocker. Oh... Rose gave me such a ration over that.” She chuckled a bit, adjusting her appearance in the mirror for the millionth time. “You look great. Go on, then. She’ll be knocked off her socks.” “Rose who?” “Thank you, Graham. It’s a special night, you know.” “Wife? I’m still stuck on wife. Is Rose the wife? You’re married?” Yaz chimed in. “I know it, Doc. Do you have the present?” “Hello?! Are either of you listening to us?!” Ryan demanded, waving his arms. “I do. Thank you for helping me pick it out.” “They’re ignoring us on purpose, they are.” Yaz muttered, shaking her head a bit with a raised eyebrow. “This must be good if that’s the case then” “You think?” “Oh, I know it.” “Any time, Doc. Go to her.” She walked down the hall, holding a wrapped present in her hands, chewing her lip a bit nervously. She could hear Ryan and Yaz pumping Graham for information. He caught her eye, and she shook her head. Not now. ------------------------------------------ Rose walked slowly, with her wife covering her eyes, her back against the Doctor’s chest as they were heading to a surprise. She nearly tripped, but the her wife’s grip was iron. Rose squealed, hearing the laugh from behind her. “I’ve got you, my love. We are almost there.” “We’ve been walking forever!” “Oi! Trying to surprise you, here! Thoughtful spouse, anyone?” “Haha, all right, all right, I’ll give you this one...” The Doctor came to a stop, and breathed softly against Rose’s ear, making her shiver softly. “All right, love. Go ahead and open.” Hands removed, Rose blinked a few times to get used to the light before seeing the most gorgeous garden... and one she recognised. “Oh, Doctor... Barcelona!”

“Right in the park where we got married...” She whispered. “Do you remember, love?” “I do! Jack married us... I still have the ribbon in my room from our binding.” “Yes, yes you do. Do you remember anything else?” “It was after mum... after I’d come back with the Dimension Cannon.” “That’s right, love.” The Doctor walked with her across the bridge, watching her take in all of the scenery. She smiled, loving to see the sense of wonder on her face before.... best not to think of that. Not now. “Did you set up a picnic?!” “I did. Chips and I brought you a present, too.” “You shouldn’t have! I didn’t get you anything...”

“You have, a thousand times over, when you gave me you, Rose Tyler. I mean that. I will love you for the rest of my lives. I’m so fortunate to have you.” “I’m so fortunate to be with you...” So the afternoon commenced -- peals of laughter, soft kisses, a few stories. It was mostly the Doctor describing different times to her. It was always the Doctor describing different things to her. She would do anything to keep Rose in the moment -- in the now of things. She needed to stay there. They ended up laying down on the blanket and looking at the 5 moons setting, Rose’s head on her stomach while she ran her fingers through her hair. “So then I said ‘He’s not a real captain, Rose.’ and you accused me of having Captain Envy! Me! I was offended to my very toes, I was, but mostly because you’d hit the nail right on the head there. I had severe envy... not of him being a captain, that’s ridiculous. I could be a captain if I wanted to--”

Rose began giggling, shaking the Doctor’s belly with it. “Uh huh, sure Doctor....”

“You know, some people’s wives don’t laugh so much at them.”

“Mhm. Sing me another.”

The Doctor wrinkled her nose at Rose playfully, then continued on. “I was jealous, thinking he’d caught your eye. A stream of pretty boys, and I have never really been that pretty, Rose.”

“That’s not true!” Rose sat up a bit, looking down at her love. “Not even a little bit!”

“Well, I suppose I was a bit pretty in my Tenth form, but I made such a mess of things out of being too frightened of the depths of my feelings for you. I made a total tit of myself, and messed things up so badly...” “You made mistakes. You’ve mended them, haven’t you?”

She smiled at her pink and yellow girl. “I have...”

“See? You’re doing brilliant. But I disagreed because you are pretty in every form. I’m attracted to every single form you take. Your Ninth form was unconventionally handsome, but gods... I wanted you to kiss me so badly. In that leather and those jumpers, that smile. In those specs and those plimsolls. In that bow-tie with that fez. In that suit with that guitar. In these braces with that top. I love all of you. Every you that you have been, every you that you will become.” The Doctor held her, pressing their foreheads together and just breathed in her essence. She loved her, oh how she did. Hearing that was a balm to her soul. “I love you so much, Rose Tyler. I love you everything that you can imagine, multiplied by infinity, taken into the depths of forever, and still you will have barely a glimpse of what I am talking about.” “You think you’re so impressive with all that lovey science babble!” She pouted in mock offence. “I am so impressive.”

“Prove it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The Doctor handed her the present, and as soon as she opened it, she realised it was both the best and worst decision she could have made. It was the best, because for a few moments, her darling girl’s eyes lit up into that beautiful cognac that she loved so much. For a few moments, she looked like she truly understood. She took the beautiful bracelet much like she’d taken the Yale key... with all of the love and excitement that she once exuded.

Unfortunately, all good things must end.

“Wh.... where am I?”

“Shh, Rose, darling, it’s all right...”

“Where are we?” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I don’t know this place...”

“You do, precious girl. You do. You just told me where we were, I need you to stay. Stay with me, love.”

“We’re not in Barcelona. I can’t feel the breeze...”

“It was just here, love, please. Stay with me, Rose. We have to maintain a common vision...”

The world around them began to darken, and Rose wrapped her arms protectively around her middle. The Doctor tried to comfort her, but there was nothing to be done. She could only hold her, watching as things slowly disintegrated around her.

“I’m so cold...” Rose whispered, and the Doctor nodded. “Why am I so cold?” The Doctor watched for the inevitable panic to spread across Rose’s face. Once it hit, she just responded the same way she had every time, for centuries. She just spread soft kisses on her face: cheekbones, chin, lips, eyelids, eyebrows, temples. She gave as much comfort as she could.

“I... I want out. Help me. Doctor, help me! Help me!” “I am helping you. I am doing everything possible. Don’t worry. We’ll get past this...” ----------------------------------------------------

The Doctor walked back into the console room, looking quite a bit defeated. She refused to stop trying, no matter what. It would happen. It would happen with her help, or she would find something.

“I’m so sorry, Doc...” Graham whispered, opening his arms for a hug. She took it, then sniffed a bit.

“What’s going on?” Yaz spoke up, seriously concerned.

“In case you hadn’t figured it out, Fam, I’m married.” “I thought we’d decided not to go with Fa--” “Ryan!” Yaz hissed, elbowing him in the side. “Right, right. Carry on.”

“I fell in love with Rose Tyler... almost immediately. She was my soulmate. I was hers, although I was too much in my own head to realise it. I almost lost her over it. You know, she took the entire time vortex into her head to save me, once? Our first kiss. I lost her... in the original timeline. Some woman named River Song had made sure that I would lose her, so that she could have me instead.”

She grit her teeth a bit at the thought. She hated remembering.

But her Fam deserved to know.

“So my original Thirteenth body went back in time to stop Rose from being lost to Pete’s World. Created a clone of her, kept her original human form with myself and left the clone of myself and the clone of her on Pete’s World’s Bad Wolf Bay. They’re off, living a human life. Rose and I made a wish, on the Time Vortex. Made a wish, and she became a Time Lady, same as me. So we could be together forever.”

“That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you, Doctor. Why haven’t we met her?” Yaz asked, smiling softly.

Ryan frowned, looking at his granddad. “It didn’t end well, did it?”

“No, it did not. A woman from my travels... she was obsessed with me, you see. I made excuses for her behaviour for years -- terrible upbringing, losing her family, the reprogramming, the terror her mother experienced while pregnant with her... but all in all, I was just blaming myself for things that were River’s fault. She was an adult. She’d made a choice. Many adults come from terrifying means and find ways to be the exact opposite of that every single day. She chose.”

They nodded along, but they obviously didn’t fully understand, following the Doctor as she lead them down multiple hallways. “She’d created a paradox to force me to be with her. I had broken that paradox to be with Rose. In revenge, she held the Universe hostage to force me to marry her. I went along with it very begrudgingly, but my wife and I knew it was a farce. We were snarking with each other mentally the entire time. Wasn’t my first time marrying someone on an adventure without it meaning anything. Wouldn’t be the last.”

Yaz laughed a bit. “That’s great. Some spouses can talk to each other with faces, and you lot of telepaths get that.”

“Oh yes... Time Lords are touch telepaths, but when we are a bonded pair, we are telepathically connected forever. We cannot survive the death of the other, which is something that River knew. But she could keep Rose away from me while keeping her alive. If not by another universe, then by this... she injected her with a sleeping death poison. Disconnects mind from body, so the body sleeps. No known cure across too many galaxies to count. Most patients’ bodies either die of natural aging, or... they eventually remember who and where they are, and that memory snaps the connection from mind and body back into place. They become able to wake up.” “Rose wouldn’t age, though, because Time Lords don’t?” “They can, of course they can... but Rose is special. She cannot. She will never regenerate into another person. She will always look the same.” “Doc, where are we?” Graham spoke up, as they stopped in front of her door. “This is my bedroom. I’d like you all to meet my wife...” She opened the door, and the room was done in dark Tardis blues, with pinks and yellows throughout. But that was not the big thing they were looking at. They were looking at the large tube in the back of the room, holding a floating woman who was connected by multiple tubes. A feeding tube, IVs, some cables for a heart monitor, floating in what looked to be thick water. Her previously golden hair had a blue tint to it due to the lighting, swaying gently in the water. Her soft white dress looked like a classic white linen nightgown from a romance novel. The Yale key around her neck and the ring on her finger glistened gently.

She looked like a beautiful angel in a snow globe. “This is my wife... Rose Marion Tyler.” Graham looked at the Doctor. They’d bonded, because they knew how it was to lose a wife. He was jealous, at first, of how the Doctor could speak to her every single night. But he’d realised that he shouldn’t be -- the Doctor had to lose Rose again, every single night. “How long has it been? Since you.... since this?” Ryan asked in amazement. “Over a thousand years. She’ll wake up, one day. I know it in my bones.” Yaz walked up, and touched the glass. “Hello, Rose. We’re so glad to meet you. We’re new members of the Doctor’s family. That means you’re our family too. So you have to wake up, you have to meet your family soon. We adore you already.” Ryan made an affirmation to that, and Graham touched the glass as well, repeating the same. They stayed for a few respectful minutes, then the Doctor ushered them out, starting to leave. Family. “We’re gonna help you, Doctor. We’ll help you look. You tell us places that you haven’t been to look for a cure, and we’ll all go there. Let’s get your wife all better, so we can meet her.” Everyone cheered around her, and the Doctor felt tears prick her eyes. Hope. Genuine hope, for the first time in a long time. “Where should we go, Doc?” “Farther than we’ve ever gone before. I have an idea.”

#dwss #Doctor x Rose #ficandchips #thirteen x rose

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lexiseigneur · 5 years

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Chapter three: Thirst

Ao3

Quinlan did not hold back more than strictly necessary. He cared very little if a deflection, a grip or a slap would cause a bruise. As long as she could fight another day, he would hit her. Pain, or rather, the desire to avoid it, was the best of motivations. Or so he had thought until he realized that she would not progress further without real fear. His previous companions had been formed on the battlefield. Quinlan had found them ready because those who could not achieve that state had perished. Unfortunately, after a week of daily sessions, the only information she had acquired was that she was quite safe with him. That would no longer do.

“You are not progressing fast enough.” He announced after fifteen minutes of what he considered lazy sparring.

“I’m doing my best.” She replied and wiped sweat from her brow.

“Your best is lacking.” He said and unzipped his vest. “You are complacent.”

“Huh?”

“If you cannot defend yourself against a single Strigoi...”

He removed the vest and his shirt. Quinlan wanted himself imposing and wild looking. Her eyes widened and there it was...Doubt.

“…You are useless to me.”

“You're not funny.” She retorted and abandoned her fighting stance.

The machete fell to her side. Quinlan did not reply. Most Strigoi could not speak after all. He snarled viciously and unhinged his jaw to let the stinger appear fully. The parted tongue vibrated with each threatening sound. Her smell had shifted. There was the stink of adrenaline in the room.

Quinlan pounced, his stance low, his arms wide just like his savage counterparts. Instead of attacking him, she ran to the door on her left. What a stupid mistake, trying to outrun him. A single moment of panic and all training was discarded. He felt disappointment and then as her back was completely turned toward him, anger. How would she ever survive by making such decisions? He could have grabbed her shirt but that seemed too civil. Shiny and thick, her hair was gathered in a braid. It dangled invitingly down her back and the dhampir caught it. Lexi managed to keep her balance as her head violently snapped back.

Quinlan wanted to punish her series of bad moves with a strike of his stinger. Her hand shot up and grabbed his. Was she trying to pry him off her hair? Was she irredeemably daft? The small fingers squeezed tightly around his and she sliced the braid with her weapon. In the same movement, she swirled around and aimed the blade at his throat. Quinlan was seldom taken aback but this gave him pause. The forlorn strands bloomed in his fist like a frayed rope. His free hand easily closed on her wrist and the metal stopped centimeters from his skin. He stared at her wide hazel eyes and clenched jaw. Quinlan looked appreciatively at the determination and he closed his mouth on the stinger. Her fist flew to his face. He quickly tossed the hair to stop it. The dhampir grinned. Dark waves fell on her cheeks and now barely reached halfway down her neck.

“This trick will only work once.” He commented and let her go.

The wings of her nose flared with each of her breaths.

“Next time I'll just cut your hand off.”

She retreated a few paces.

“You should have tried that now.”

“I guess I'm too nice.” Lexi retorted.

Quinlan knew she had not been. The awkward position had not afforded her enough precision to try.

“If I catch you again I will bite.”

She swore at him.

“I don't need threats.”

“It's a promise...you obviously need to have something to lose.”

Lexi chewed her tongue and he could tell that she understood.

“Besides...deer blood does not truly sustain me.”

The claws of his stinger poked out menacingly.

“I could use a more substantial meal.”

Lexi picked up the disembodied hair and retrieved the elastic. She used it to secure her brown waves in a short ponytail.

“You will go hungry then.”

Quinlan did not appreciate the witty reply because it rang true. His body would weaken on animal blood and his control would soon waver. The stinger could grab her but she should not bleed. However, she did not need to know this for the time being. Eventually, she would figure it out but by then, he hoped to secure more appropriate sustenance.

This time when he pounced without warning, she did not flee. The blade slashed the air with a whistling noise. Her eyes were fixated on his mouth. She was still slow. Lexi retreated somewhat when the stinger left an angry welt on the side of her throat. The skin was intact but it would hurt nonetheless. Reinvigorated, she attacked instead of just defending which gave him hope but did not inspire mercy. He wanted her to understand that despite her sudden progress, she was still inadequate. This would be the conclusion of this lesson. The machete skittered on the concrete floor and her hands closed on the snake-like appendage holding her neck. Thirst was rising slowly but he held it back. Sharp nails dug in the stinger and he let go. She gasped and dropped to her knees. The coughing subsided and she stood with a smile on her flushed face. Quinlan did not approve of her mocking eyes.

“Where is the bite you promised?” She asked after clearing her throat.

Quinlan rattled in irritation. He had hoped that the slight asphyxiation would distract from this.

“Next time.” He lied.

Her smile was mischievous. It vanished when she looked at her nails.

“Let me see it.”

“What are you referring to?”

“Your stinger.”

Quinlan waved it off as unimportant.

“There is blood…please, let me look at it.”

He sighed but relented because she appeared genuinely worried. It emerged slowly from the splayed tongue. She placed her palm between the claws. Quinlan froze at the unnatural contact. Two small cuts were visible but barely bleeding. Still, the corners of her mouth fell in displeasure.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and retracted the appendage but she did not let go right away.

“Wait…I’ve never seen one close.”

The dhampir considered her request and saw no harm in letting her examine it. She did so carefully but after a while grimaced in confusion.

“How does it even cut? I don’t s…”

Quinlan projected the knife like structure. The woman heaved in surprise when it poked the side of her hand. He chuckled and she glared disapprovingly. Her index touched the sharp bone.

“Fascinating.” She commented and her arm fell to her side.

The stinger flew back and for an instant his mouth filled with the taste of her skin. The thirst pierced through his chest.

“That is not the qualifier I would use.” He said to distract from the burn.

“What would you use?”

“Deadly.”

Lexi smiled and went to retrieve her blade.

“Most deadly things are fascinating, Quinlan.”

Were they really? Few things were capable of ending his life and none of them were particularly interesting. Perhaps this changed when one was afflicted with human fragility.

“You should go hunt. You’ll heal faster.”

And with those words, she left the room. The small cuts stung and were still stubbornly open. Hair had spread on the floor like a sheer carpet. The blade had sliced through it without hesitation. Had she truly been scared or did she not care at all? The few times he had seen the hair freely flowing, the waves had been quite beautiful. Quinlan smiled without joy. He truly hoped that in the future, she would be able to cut other precious things just as easily. Like he had been doing for so many years.

Lexi was exhausted but felt alive. The elevator made a pneumatic noise at it rose. Quinlan was going for a hunt as he did every second day. Her hair was a mess of uneven strands but that was fine. It was a small price to pay to prove him wrong. Lexi was not complacent and that cut had been her demonstration. It would grow back anyway. Besides, it was so wasteful to keep it so long. Were she as practical as she should be, she would shave it off. But she could not. This one little thing she would keep so that when she looked in the mirror, she would still see herself. A memory flashed its way through the exhaustion. A tall man, thin and bespectacled was running fingers through the waves and she chastised him for disturbing their pattern. Lexi caught herself and pushed the feelings back. Using that dark room in her mind required focus and that focus sometimes slipped. Like it did every time she let go to try to sleep.

Holes ran the lengths of both her ears. Her mother had hated her numerous earrings since she had pierced her ears more than ten years prior. He had quite loved them. The stainless steel and silver ornaments were tucked into a small pouch in the drawer of her nightstand. Once the mission was over, she would put them back on.

The woman showered. It was undeniably easier to wash her hair that way. She took scissors to the wet strands and cut until all were the same length. They ended just under her chin. Never in her life had she had such a short haircut. She shrugged and dried them before returning to the control room and continuing her work.

Dr. Goodweather’s notes were crystal clear until about halfway through. That first part she read with absolute enthrallment. It described his knowledge of the Strigoi infection. When she had finished reading through it, questions had remained unanswered. There was not a single reference to Quinlan and his uniqueness. Feeling a little guilty, she had added her own findings about the dhampir. The circumstances of his birth were written rapidly as he had not been generous in detail. His physical appearance had taken a little longer. Point by point she had described how he varied from normal Strigoi. The markings on his face and torso, the shorter stinger and everything else she could recall. Hopefully, one day she would understand how he had come to be.

The second part of the doctor’s report was pandemonium. Unfortunately, the important writings concerning the jamming devices were in the chaotic part. The elevator came down and Quinlan appeared between the doors. His throat was redder than earlier so he had managed to catch something.

“Good hunt?” She asked, partly because she still felt guilty about his injury.

“It was sufficient.”

The dhampir looked at her hair and she found herself frowning and pulling at the strands.

“Was Goodweather on drugs when he wrote those damn notes?” She asked.

“No. Just inebriated.”

They were relying on the research of a drunkard. Perfect.

“Will that be a significant hurdle in understanding them?”

Lexi considered the matter. The words were sloppy and he was repeating himself a lot, but the actual content was clear enough.

“No. It’s just really…annoying.”

“Well, we sometimes have to contend with…annoying things.”

Lexi stared at him and her mouth fell slightly open. Was he talking about her? Did he think he was the incarnation of congeniality? Lexi snorted and shook her head.

“Pleasant as ever, huh?”

The dhampir ignored the remark.

“Do you possess explosive charges still? Such as the ones you utilized against the Strigoi on the hill?”

“A few. Planning on blowing up something?”

“Not quite.”

Quinlan leaned against the desk.

“There is a camp in this county.”

Lexi grimaced in puzzlement.

“What camp? What are you talking about?”

He sighed and raised a hand to his brow. Suddenly, he appeared weary.

“Of course. How would you come to know about them.”

Impatiently, she waved at him for an explanation.

“The Strigoi have gathered humans, much like cattle, in order to maximize blood production. Direct feedings have become quite rare unless it is to create another one of them. The blood is then transported to the nearest cities.”

Her lungs emptied as if Quinlan had struck her in the heart. They were farming humans? For a year she had been safe in the bunker while out there people were being reduced to livestock? She clutched the shirt above her heart as guilt and horror tightened her chest. Then her own words came back at her painfully. “The worse has already come to pass. We have time.” No, they did not have time while this happened out there.

“Do you want to destroy the camp?” Her voice was small and shaky.

The dhampir was staring away from her and her distress.

“No. I want to steal from them.”

Annihilating that nightmarish place sounded much better than a mere burglary.

“What do you want to steal?”

“Blood.”

Lexi’s upper lip lifted in disgust and she dug her face in her sleeves. Animal blood was not cutting it. He had alluded to it but she had still hoped it would be enough to carry them past the finish line. It was necessary for their goal, and ultimately for the sake of all the people in those camps, that Quinlan be fed.

“It is not unlike what your kind used to do to animals until recently.”

She wanted to feel anger at his words but grief was overwhelming and dulling other emotions.

“Why are you telling me this?”

The dhampir continued to avert his gaze. Was he trying to justify his use of blood? Like she cared about that.

“Maybe all this is simply a matter of perspective.” He added.

“Quinlan…”

She stood and faced him.

“You don’t need to justify your needs to me.”

Their gaze finally met.

“We’ll steal that blood for you but I have to know…”

Her heart pounded in anticipation.

“…that you are not trying to say that what is happening in those farms is in any way acceptable.”

She swallowed with difficulty. Why would he even fight the Master if none of this bothered him? The Strigoi characteristics of his appearance hit her in full force. The eyes, the discolored skin and teeth, the pointed ears, and that strange throat…Was his mind also so inhuman?

“No. That was not the meaning I was trying to convey.”

Lexi closed her eyes in relief. She squeezed his shoulder and closed her laptop.

“Good…maybe we should try to avoid making assumptions about each other.”

She stepped away, intending on having an early dinner and retreat to her bedroom. In the kitchen, she reached for various items and started working on her meal.

“What assumption have I made about you?”

Quinlan stood by the door.

“What my kind used to do to animals…Does that include me?”

“Yes.”

Lexi burst out laughing.

“Since I could provide for myself, I’ve only eaten plants.”

Lexi did not mention the animals she had had to kill during her studies. They were talking about food after all. Before he could speak she added:

“How about you tell me about your plan while I make this?”

The dhampir sat at the table and spoke of what they needed to do.

#Mr.Quinlan #quinlan #quintus sertorius #the strain #the strain fx #the strain fanfiction #the strain fanfic

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misssophiachase · 6 years

Note

Mini drabble prompt Klaus being under anaesthesia HEAVILY flirts with his doctor, who happens to be caroline

Oooh love it….thank youluv! What is it with me not understanding the concept of a mini-drabble hehe.This is longer than expected, hope you like it!

Love Potion Number Nine

Klaus…..

“Well hello there, who areyou love?” Klaus asked, pairing his question with a low growl of approval. Hewas pretty sure he was horizontal and minimally clothed but that was about it.The room was dimly lit and decidedly blurry for whatever reason but he couldn’tmistake the beautiful blonde looking curiously into his eyes.

She didn’t respond, justrested her palm on his face and held his drooping eye open. “No need to beshy, you’re extremely attractive, sweetheart.”

It was obvious she wantedhim by the way she was touching him so intimately, Klaus wasn’t surprised givenhis impressive prowess with women. “Can’t help yourself huh? I know I’mirresistible.”

Even in his drowsy statehe noted a slight roll of those expressive blue eyes before she shone a brightlight into his right eye. Was she taking photos of him?

“Kinky,” he chuckled asanother flash of light entered his left eye. If this was the way she wanted toplay it then Klaus was up for the challenge.

“His vitals are fine,” shefinally spoke, his pupils recovering from the shock and beginning to dilate,desperate to get another look at her.

“Are you sure?” He asked,thinking that the stirring down below wasn’t fine and needed a littlecare. “Between you and me, I have an itch that needs to be scratched if youknow what I mean…”

“Nurse,” she barked, notbothering to return his gaze or his comment. “Get lover boy up torecovery, there’s only so much crap I can deal with during a nineteen hourshift.”

Caroline…

He wasn’t the firstpatient to hit on her, before or after surgery, but he was certainly the mostattractive. The fact he could make the drab, hospital gown look sexy was nomean feat. That accent was a whole other story.

She perused his chart, forofficial purposes of course, each tiny detail of information standing out morethan usual.

Niklaus Mikaelson.

Male.

Thirty-three.

Single.

The last detail wasn’toverly difficult to digest. Although, she was fairly certain his relationshipstatus had something to do with those woeful lines he was giving her, even if he was under anaesthesia.

“How’s Mr Sexy Appendix?”Kat asked, surprising her so much she dropped his chart on the floor. Theclattering noise echoing throughout the corridor.

“He’s actually now withoutappendix,” she muttered. “Why do you insist on naming all the patientsanyway?”

“It’s the only thing thatwill get me through this never ending shift,” she drawled. They werefourth year surgical interns at Northwestern Memorial and even though it wasroutine, the long shifts were the worst part. “And I’ve never seen a guy rock asurgical gown like that.” Caroline felt her cheeks flush knowing she’d had theexact same thoughts earlier. “Although, I did notice his brother in thatsuit in the waiting room so it’s obviously hereditary.”

Caroline shouldn’t havebeen surprised given Kat’s penchant for gossip but how in the hell she’dgathered so much information while tending to patients in the ER was trulyimpressive.

“Forbes! Pierce!” She knewthat sound all too well. In fact it was the second English accent she’d beenexposed to all night. She turned around knowing that theirResident Enzo hadn’t had nearly enough caffeine today. “Why is it thatevery time I turn around you two are gossiping like you’re at a mother’smeeting?”

“Mother’s meeting?”Katherine exclaimed, unable to help herself. “I’ll have you know that I moisturise four times aday, my skin is as smooth as a baby’s butt…”

“Oh spare me, Pierce,”their supervisor scoffed. “The day I care about your skincare routine isthe day the world ends. Forbes, we need to talk about your patient.” He waswalking away as he said it, Caroline giving her friend a brief shrug beforerushing to catch up with his long strides.

“Do you mean Mr Sex…”she trailed off noting his slightly amused expression, inwardly cursing Kat forputting that name in her head. “I mean Mr Mikaelson?”

“Yes, how’s hisprognosis?”

“Besides hitting on me inpost-op, his vitals are normal and is going to make a full recovery,” she joked, hoping to lighten his stormy mood.

“My brother-in-law neverfails to disappoint.” She felt her heart stop, a myriad of thoughts explodingin her mind. The biggest one being that her patient was also her supervisor’sbrother-in-law and she had no idea how to handle it or the fact she’d just insultedhim. “Let’s check up on the cranky bastard, shall we?”

Klaus…

“Tell me more about those psychedelic,pink dinousaurs, Nik,” his brother Kol teased from next to his bed. He chose thatmoment to use every ounce of available strength to push him off the chair by surprise.

“Hey!” He grumbled fromthe floor. At least something good had happened today after all.

Klaus didn’t do surgery,in fact he remembered insisting they take him home the night before. Klausfigured he could live with his siblings, so a ruptured appendix was nothing.They thought differently. He didn’t remember much atall, except a stunning blonde standing over him. He couldn’t recall theconversation but those blue eyes were burned into his soul.

“I specifically rememberasking you to take me home?”

“Excuse us for letting youlive, Niklaus,” Elijah muttered, still immaculate even after hours holed up in the hospital waiting room.

“Especially given we wantto kill you most days,” Rebekah added, not bothering to lift her gaze as shefiled her nails in the corner. “My husband may choose to spend his days in this‘godforsaken place’ as you like to call it, but there are many other things I’drather be doing than babysit your grumpy ass.”

“Nice to see we’re allplaying nice as usual children,” Enzo interrupted, Caroline following behind meekly. Klausnoted that given the look on her face, she was wishing she was anywhere butthere right now.

“This is Caroline Forbes,my surgical intern. “She tells me surgery went well, although given you’restill alive Niklaus, I beg to differ from that assessment.”

“Haven’t you heard ofbedside manner, Lorenzo?” Klaus mumbled, trying to be his snappy self butgrowing decidedly off balance by the beauty from his dream who was now at his bedside and watching him intently.

“What are you waiting for, Forbes?” Enzo ordered, breaking the tense gaze between them. Klaus watched asshe fumbled slightly before removing the stethoscope from around that creamy,delectable neck.

“I need to check yourheart rate,” she explained. Klaus was fairly certain it had skyrocketed in thepast two minutes. How someone could look so beautiful dressed in scrubs withher blonde hair piled onto her head was a mystery. He decided to put it down tothe fact that shade of blue brought out those eyes.

He stilled, unsure of howto act in this situation. He mostly resented doctors who insisted on examininghim closely but for once he wasn’t complaining. Before he knew it, her warmhands were making their way into the open side of his unflattering gown. He felt theheat rush through him from her simple touch coursing through his body including down to his burgeoning arousal. Luckily the blankets were covering himotherwise this would be bloody embarrassing given his siblings were allwatching on in unusual interest.

He shivered, feeling the cool touch ofthe stethoscope on his back, glad to have some relief from the heat. “Breathe,”she murmured, her breath ticking the stray curl at the back of his neck andsuddenly he was more aroused than ever.

He closed his eyes,determined not to show his real emotions to his nosy siblings, wishing it wasjust them. Not only because he wanted to rip off those scrubs but because he wanted to know just who Caroline Forbes was.

The examination was oversooner than he expected and Klaus had to admit he felt immediately cold without her touch. It was sometime during the night when he noticed a sliver of light filter through the room and her lithe figure creep inside. He watched her silently, his eyes following her path to the chart at the end of his bed. The small amount of light catching her adorable expression as she chewed her bottom lip while reading it intently.

“I didn’t think I was that interesting,” she froze, obviously surprised by his comment in the darkened room.

“I’m just adding some notes,” she said, managing to regain her composure although he could make out her cheeks were slightly flushed.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, I think it��s important the other doctors know you have a tendency to flirt shamelessly, even under anaesthesia.”

Suddenly he felt bad and slightly embarrassed. What in the hell had he said? No wonder things had been weird before. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” The silence was thick as he waited impatiently for her reply.

“It would take a lot to make me uncomfortable, you’re just lucky I didn’t punch you out.” He found himself smiling unable to control the goofy grin on his face.

“What stopped you?”

“I figured my license to practice medicine was more important than messing up that pretty face.”

“You think I have a pretty face?”

“In this amount of darkness anything is pretty, Mr Miikaelson,” she uttered, obviously trying to cover for her slip before placing the clipboard back in place. “And you really need to get some rest before they discharge you in the morning.”

“I assume bedtime stories aren’t on offer then?”

“Not if you want to keep that pretty face intact.”

He was restless the rest of thatnight, mostly because the on-duty nurse told him she’d left. When Rebekah cameto get him she still hadn’t returned and his desperation had reached new heights.

He found the chart at the end of his bed, the one he noticed she perused quite frequently. Scribbling his mobile number on the blank space he knew it was a long shot but he needed to see her again.

Caroline…

She’d been restless, Caroline put it down to her erratic working schedule but given the insomnia persisted she had to admit it was something else. Or someone else.

People had different reactions under anaesthesia, she knew that, and could forgive him his rather blatant attempts to seduce her post-op but after she’d spoken with him, Caroline was confused. He was a flirt for sure but there was also an underlying sense of insecurity.

Her phone buzzed, Caroline noting Kat’s familiar head shot.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m watching TV.”

“BORING….Come meet me at Hellenic.” Caroline could just imagine her pouting as she wrote it.

“But I’m so comfy.”

“Get out of those dreaded sweats and into that little, black number and come for a drink.” Caroline groaned knowing she would continue to message if she said no.

She threw off the blanket and headed towards the shower. Fast forward ninety minutes and she was teetering on her highest heels upon entering the newest bar in town. She searched the room for Kat, her eyes falling onto a very familiar ex-patient. He raised his glass in her direction and she knew she’d been had.

Making her way towards him at the bar, the exaggerated sway of her hips not on purpose at all, she gave him a pensive look complete with raised eyebrows.

“You’re resorting to imitating my friends to get a date now?” He smiled, those rogue dimples disarming her slightly.

“I left my number on my patient chart but turns out your friend found it instead. I needed to see you.”

“And what was so urgent? I’m not going to sleep with you after an operation or now,” she shot back, thinking it wouldn’t be an altogether bad experience.

“Ouch,” he groaned. “Way to shut a guy down but lucky I’m persistent. Katherine told me you’d been hurt before. Funnily enough we share a few similarities.”

“Oh really?”

“Really,” he smiled tentatively. “Take a chance, Caroline.” Maybe it was his earnest gaze or the way her name sounded rolling off his tongue but she couldn’t resist, taking a seat.

Fast forward three months and Caroline and her former patient were closer than ever. Their first meeting story was always a highlight for their friends and Katherine liked to take credit for their union. She’d also managed to snag his elder, suit-clad brother in the process.

The only awkward part was Enzo. She tasked Klaus with the responsibility of breaking it to his brother-in-law and her supervisor unsure of just how he’d take it. Hopefully well given she was falling in love with Mr Sexy Appendix every day.

#love potion number nine #thanks luv #great prompt #denielapple

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smitti4thecity · 3 years

Text

Imagine you are reading something and it ends like this?? Can a writer do this to people? Can a writer survive writing like this? And more importantly what is this?? Read along and hey follow along... time to take the brakes off of story telling and introduce the first of many in the "UNTITLED FOR NOW" series...

Untitled for now begins with three characters: Teapot, Treyein and then we have Jug. The opening scene features a cry for help from Teapot and a sad confession of guilt from Treyein... and we start to examine the characters beginning with Jug.

Teapot – Hey Jug? You busy

Jug – Never too busy for you

Teapot – Thank You for your kind words

Can you come over, I would rather talk to you about this face to face.

Jug – GPS says 25 minutes, see you about 2000hrs

Jug has no idea what he is about to walk into and that does not matter because in his world his friend of 22 years needs him and has prioritized her over all things.

Meanwhile Teapot was fuming.. IVE HAD ENOUGH, the jokes, the innaprorpiate touching has to stop, enough is enough and she must escalate things before she finds herself in Wednesday’s episode of SVU.

Text message from Treyein comes in, Teapot begins to read it..

Treyein – look tea, I have decided to check myself into a rehab facility, I recognize in myself that I have demons in my past I must let go of or I will never manifest into the beautiful person I am inside. I hope this move inspires you to somehow take your leap towards greatness. You have so much to offer the World and I truly will pray nightly that you live in your gift.

Teapot – My life will never be the same because of you – you have literally taken my (knock, knock, knock) throws phone on the bed.

Teapot – opens door and greets Jug with a hug

Jug – well hello, nice to see you too, you look nice, nails done I see you tea... pot!! knowing damn well I love the white tip nails..… wait!!! what is this??? some sort of setup???. Are you about to tell me we are dating? What did I walk into.. you sittin around lookin all good..... smellin like YSL and lookin even better than you smell. Look, three letters woman!!! I DO

Teapot – laughing and smiling, no no no no no, we are not dating

Jug – sigh of relief and disappointment, don’t act like if I didn’t really try and holla you wouldn’t oblige

Teapot – shrugs, grabs Jugs hand… more serious now – come in, lets talk things right now for me are….. tear drop

Jug – hugs her closely, sweetheart what is wrong? What is going on? Jug silences his phone, takes off his shoes and hurry’s back to teapot.. grabs her face – look at me? I’m in the moment completely with you – talk to me.

Teapot – I need some time, just be here with me, tell me how you are doing? I will tell you I just need some time to gather myself…

Jug – Well look it doesn’t really matter how I am doing.. Please, you cannot hold this inside of you it is going to drive you down a dark road

Teapot – I know I know I know… just please you go first.

Jug for the first time in his life was asked how he was doing? Jugs mind instantly drifted to where it all started for Jug...

It was hot outside and Jug had to walk home from two a days football practice – now Jug lived below the hill and practice was above the hill so Jug started his journey towards the bottom. His feet draggin.. head down.. he all dirty with the long day face going on…sweaty.. smellin like last weeks practice…whoooo Jug was hurtin that day..… not even halfway into the walk a voice yells out of one of the homes:

Voice: Hey N WORD!!!! Get outta my neighborhood..

Naw I’m just playin, the Voice didnt say that..

Not even halfway into the walk a voice can be heard saying..

Voice: Whats up g? And there she was.. Teapot!!

Teapot goes outside with her wifle ball bat and says you hungry I got some pringles inside.

Jug: with all the life brought back into his body from that statement, Yes I am.

Jug went inside and banged some pepperoni pizza pringles and enjoyed some good conversation. That day 22 years ago jumpstarted an unbelievable friendship that stands stronger each day that passes. Jug was introduced to an entire different world on that day he had never seen a two parent home, food in the pantry and refrigerator, candles smelling all good, a garage, Jugs life changed that day. Jug would have to eventually walk down that hill and go to his home but Jug was completely in that moment wit tea and Jug was and has proven to be forever grateful for the value meeting teapot has brought to his life. Jug provided entertainment and Jug is good at it, you know the sober guy that’s loving life, the only one on the dancefloor, singing and talking the loudest like hey look at me. That is Jug, the go to guy for anything you trying to do good or bad because Jug has lived. Jug travels the country for fun, he has made a living by traveling to countries and providing some of the most epic memories in travel history. You look at Jug and just automatically get inspired ladies love him, businesses respect his word and opinions. Jug has the President’s personal number and thats him -- the only person that can make the impossible possible – it is so important to have those people in your life that can connect with every age group and just find a common ground between different parties. You just have to see this man to believe this man.

Growing up Jug went to the community academy that required Jug to spend 7 days at the academy and he would go home for a total of 16 hours and after the 16 hours Jug would head back to the academy to finish out his next 7 days he did this for 6 years in lieu of elementary school. Well in year three at the academy Jug was minding his own business and Jug went home for his 16 hour leave period and Jugs mom pops Jug in the back of the head like “wtf” Jug?

Jug: Momma what

Jugs Momma: Boy you been cutting your hair?

Jug: no momma

This continues for two continuous weeks and Jug is completely clueless because when Jug looks in the mirror all he sees is a billion dollar smile that he would sell his self short on if he grins... the dreamy eyes authors make up words to describe. “Let’s call it hazel”

Jug was winning, fresh lineup, clothes was bummy but hey they all wore the same uniform, so LG.. F is the problem.

Jug strolls into his momma house on summer leave that next week, and Jug momma put the paws on Jug. You know the whoopen where you gotta go find the belt and you gotta find the one momma talking about or you gonna get hit wit the wrong belt and told to go find the other one…

when yo momma say “go get the belt” vs. “go get MY belt” the difference and the tone in those two statements are completely different and has two different sides of the type of ass that gets whipped.

When you get “the belt” only a little bit of ass is getting tore up so you good… when momma says get “MY BELT” well that my friend is all the ass.

That’s one of them beat downs that go like...

Boy (pop) didn’t (pop) I (pop) tell (pop) you (pop) to (pop) stop (pop) cutting (pop) yo (pop) hair (pop)

Huh? (Pop)

Get done you got snot bubbles, had two socks on now one of them outside underneath the car the other in the freezer stuck to the ice tray like its been there for a week.. yeah that type of life

Well a couple days later Jug was in his room iceing his buns when he hears his mothers voice scream out for him under his breath you know what Jug is saying so insert something you’d be saying in lieu of my sentence.

Jug gets up and goes in the other room and his Momma looks at him as if he were a newborn with all the love and desire a mother does and says to Jug. I scheduled you a doctors appointment I have been talking to some people and they say I should …. Jug interrupts his Mom…

Jug: who is they Mom because if you are about to say what I think you are about to say then I need to meet them immediately.

Jugs Momma: Well what do you think I am about to say

Jug: Well, with all due respect momma - - I think you about to say …. Takes a deep breath and

That …

That umm…

Jugs Momma: say it son, you can tell me

Jug: you sure?

Jugs momma: yes son, you can say whatever it is you are thinking

Jug: I was going to say that I think you are about to say that “they” told you to stop beating my @ and like I been tellin yo xxxx xxx I ain’t been cutting my fxxxx hair, shoot”

Jugs momma: yes son its called alopecia.. wait a second Boy who you talkin.. you know what. Go get the belt…

Jug: sighs and drops his dobber and starts that stroll to the belt room and just as he takes a step momma gone say

Jugs momma: you ain’t gotta go get the belt but you better watch yo mouth, don’t know who you think you in here talkin to like that.. done lost yo mind.. clearly.

Think you talkin to boy.. I…

See when momma told Jug “boy … I” Jug was always curious to know – You’ll what? But Jug is a smart person… Jug takes his Loss… later in life someone told Jug the same phrase .. “boy…I” and Jug being the curious character he is.. Jug said it.. you’ll what? And to Jugs surprise Jug got muffed in the face and Jug would go on to never be curious again about what boy I… means.. because if someone tells you “Boy….I”

That means they are going to muff you.. so take your L.. or say “Boy..I” back to them and get ready for a muffing contest because boy I means nothing more than Boy I will muff you..in the face..

Jugs Momma: Yes son, in grown peoples words that is what I’m saying to you, and "they" is just people that gossip.

Jug: I don’t know momma, I don’t like gossip

Jugs Momma: not like that gossip, boy, shut up, you going to the doctor so go get ready.

School years begins Jug is bald, and Jug gets clowned every single day and Jug laughed along, soaked in the attention and listened to what the kids were saying. Laughed louder than the other kids, complementing the very kids that were talking so bad about him and Jug had no choice because Jug couldn’t fight and Jug was lost, confused. Jug knew why they were talking about him but didn’t know how to make it stop so Jug took L’s day in and day out until one day… The King of all Joke makers connected with Jug on a “I’m too great of a jokster to waste time talkin bout yo globe head self” type level...and that Jokster looked at Jug and Jug looked back and it was like the torch was passed to Jug.. and in that moment Jugs mouth opened and said one of the most legendary bars in the history of joke telling.

Jug: If you don’t get yo old…..

.. now “if you don’t get yo old” is the perfect setup however it is tricky to pull off but if you pull it off you are elevated to a different tier of joke telling…and Jug did it...

Jug was invicible from that day forward.. everyone loved Jug and Jug loved everyone.. For years the very kids that talked reckless to Jug was in the laugh of a joke (blink of an eye -- get it?? Laugh of a joke?? No?) Jugs biggest support system.

Jug transformed that day into a legend, and in that moment Jug knew it was his life’s gift to spread love joy and happiness all over the world and that led to him winning a unanimous decision presidential election.. Yeah..He was not even on the ticket, everyone in the country wrote his name on the ballot..the most unqualified candidate in the history of life ...thats a whole nother story....

Jug has just been asked the most important question in his life, no one has ever asked Jug how he is doing? Jug has made a living by connecting with people and for the very first time in his life Jug must complete one of the most important steps in overcoming and that is answering one very important question.

Teapot – Jug, you okay you kinda went to another place for like 14 minutes, I have literally been calling your name… it was like you were not even here at all – I mean one of the first things that you said to me was that you are in the moment with me… I know that look Jug, I’ve never seen it on you… but Jug!! I know that look.. what is it..???

Jug – tears begin to form

Teapot – NO!! NO!! NO!! No Jug, you do not get to cry your way out of this one… Now open your mouth .. use your words and you get in this moment with me… and you tell me what is going on…

Jug – wipes them tears away that almost dropped, drops his head and unleashes this:

Interested in more? Tweak or Delete?

#tumblr writing community #tumblr writers #creative writing #writers of tumblr #writers block #aspiring author #story telling #writeblr #novel writing #new to tumblr #late night reading #this is good #i see what you did there

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emilys-write · 3 years

Text

Mistake

“Had I known how much I’d be struggling right now, I wouldn’t have done it. Doing this was just one huge mistake.”

I thought I had it all. I know how cliché that sounds, but I truly did. I was thriving at work as one of the stars of a TV show entering its 15th season—Forgotten Ones; I’d also been a part of one of the biggest movie franchises of the 21st century—the Voyagers trilogy. My co-stars Andrew and Eric are more like brothers to me than anything. I was content in my personal life. Sure, I was single, but I had amazing friends, and I was closer than close with my family, despite the fact that I only got to see them a few times a year. I was happy, and I put some need to conform to archaic societal norms ahead of that happiness. Everyone I knew had kids, and I was tired of being “Aunt Naomi.”

I wanted to be “Mom.”

I wanted it more than anything. I wanted to get to experience those firsts: the first word; the first time they sit-up, crawl, walk; the first time they get their haircut; cutting and losing those teeth. Everything I’d experienced second-hand through the eyes of the parents around me, I wanted for myself. I was even looking forward to the 3 AM feedings and not getting a decent night’s sleep for the foreseeable future, the times when I’d try everything to figure out why they’re crying but would never be able to find the one thing that’ll soothe them, and always having some kind of spit-up on my clothes because all of that would mean that I was finally a mom.

In September of 2016, three months after my 30th birthday, Andrew and his wife welcomed their second child, and I decided I was going to try In Vitro Fertilization. At the time, the longest relationship I’d had in four years was a one-night stand turned occasional late-night companion, so a natural conception was out. I wasn’t a fan of choosing a stranger from some national database to make up half of my child’s genetics, so I had to bite the bullet and ask someone I knew. Really, though, the only one I’d felt comfortable asking was my best friend Matt. I was closer to him than anyone, and given that he was—in the iconic words of Janice Ian—“almost too gay to function,” there was no chance of any kind of romantic feelings making an already complicated situation that much more.

Matt and I had met 9 years previous on the set of the first Voyagers film. He and I were in the same place in our lives—feeling stuck in our day-to-day lives and ready to quit acting—when we were cast, and so we hit it off immediately. We were there for each other through every high and low life threw at us, like the time our co-star and my then-boyfriend Derek cheated on me in the middle of shooting the second movie, and I was then stuck playing his loving girlfriend for the next year-and-a-half. Matt was the one to encourage me to take on new challenges, and I would do the same for him. He let me write and direct some inconsequential skit he was obligated to do for some website because he knew how interested yet apprehensive I was in entering those fields. A year later, I made my writing and directorial debut on Forgotten Ones.

To say Matt was wholly on-board with a baby, though, is a gross overstatement. He’d just broken up with his fiancée of two years when I sprung the idea on him. I’d meant to do it in a more meaningful way and approach the topic gently, but one too many Jägerbombs during one of his visits to Vancouver in early December led to a very loud and very slurred “D’ya wanna have a baby?” He ended the conversation with a very firm “Hell no!” followed directly by another shot. I didn’t bring up the idea again until I visited him in Pasadena the next month.

“Matt, I need to talk to you.” The words fell from my mouth in a jumbled frenzy after what was supposed to be a calming deep breath.

“Oh, God. That doesn’t sound good,” he joked, jumping over the back of the couch to sit next to me. “What’s up?” I kept my gaze on the glass of wine on the coffee table in front of me and continued to fidget with my hands—cracking my knuckles, checking my nails, anything that got rid of even the slightest bit of the anxiety I felt.

“I want to have a baby, and, well, I’m not exactly swimming in romantic partners at the moment, but I don’t want it to be with some stranger and I just—would you want to have a baby with me?” I finally looked over at him as I cut myself off and got the question out. He was silent for what felt like forever, which only prompted me to continue my nervous rambling. “You wouldn’t have to be involved—if you don’t want to, that is. You could totally just be, like, Uncle Matt, or whatever. A-and it’d be through In Vitro, so you and I wouldn’t be doing it the old-fashioned way, and—”

“Okay,” he interrupted me. “I’ll do it.”

We had our first appointment to have the Intrauterine Insemination done four months after that conversation, in April of 2017. And the second two months after when the first didn’t take. And the third two months after that when that one didn’t take. Finally, in early September, those two blue lines appeared on each of the ten pregnancy tests I took. Just to be absolutely sure, I made an appointment at the doctors for the next day. The pregnancy was confirmed two days later, and I was over the moon. The more and more we tried, the more Matt came around to the idea, but I don’t think he ever seemed willing to take on responsibilities further than being “Uncle Matt,” which was fine by me. He told me not long after he agreed that he’d done so mainly because of how much he knew I wanted to have a baby, but he’d never had any inclination to have children himself. He was always one who didn’t want to be tied down to anything, which is why his engagement had been so shocking to me. I had never really expected him to want to be that baby’s father, and the fact that he was even willing to help me in this was more than I could ask.

Early on in the process, we decided that we’d keep it a secret from anyone who didn’t absolutely need to know. I didn’t want some second-rate gossip column telling the world before I wanted it known. In order to give them enough time to adequately rework anything they needed to, the first people I told were the stunt coordinators, wardrobe department and the writers on Forgotten Ones. My character, Carter, had already had a child five seasons back, and so everyone decided to work with the pregnancy rather than around it and end the season with the birth of Carter’s second child. My family was the next to know.

Christmas Eve in Bantam, Connecticut. I was already at the tail-end of my first trimester and eager to finally spill the beans. My family had always celebrated together on Christmas Eve, and so this was my one chance to tell everyone at once. I kept the focus of the announcement on my mom, though. It was her first grandchild after all.

As tradition dictated, my family always opened gifts from youngest to oldest. My uncle acted as the guardian of the gifts, passing them out when the time came for each person to open theirs. I’d pulled him aside before dinner to ask him to “overlook” a gift for my mom, and act as though he’d just seen it after my grandfather had opened his final gift. He followed the plan perfectly. Everyone was getting ready to leave the basement and go back upstairs for dessert when he found the final gift.

“Oh, Michelle. There’s one more for you.” He grabbed the box adorned with red-and-white-striped wrapping paper and handed it to my mom.

“Huh. There’s no name,” she commented as she looked over the box. For the last month, I’d been incessantly telling her that she, my brothers and I should all get brand-new stockings to hang on her mantle this year. And so, when she opened the box to find a note resting on top of some tissue paper reading “Make sure to leave a space for me on your mantle next year,” she rolled her eyes and looked over at me.

“Naomi, I told you I like the stockings we have just f—” She pulled back the tissue paper to find a “My First Christmas” stocking with the first sonogram sticking out of the top and another card reading “Merry Christmas, Grandma! I’ll see you in May!” She jumped out of her seat and, as everyone huddled around the box she’d let fall to the ground, ran over to hug me. With the same shaking hands and tear-filled eyes she was sporting, I returned the embrace.

Two months later, we found out we were having a boy. Charles Alexander Collins. Around the same time, I’d finally let everyone on set know about the pregnancy. The scripts with the reveal of Carter’s pregnancy were about to come out, I was starting to show, and I couldn’t let Andrew and Eric find out through deduction instead of through me. The three of us, along with their spouses, were opening a wine bar in Virginia, Andrew and Eric’s home state. We all flew down for the weekend to check on the progress, and so the boys could spend time with their families. I arrived to the bar half an hour before we had planned to meet in order to set up. I’d ordered a fake label off of a store online that read “Babyfeet. Sweet Spring Baby. Connecticut. May 2018” and put it over one of the bottles we were supposed to be sampling that day, placing that towards the end of the line. Everyone began to arrive soon after I’d let Ali, our bartender, in on the plan and ensured my stock of red and white grape juice were set. We all sat at the table, and Ali brought over the first wine. After a lengthy discussion of the notes and bodies of the drinks we’d sampled—of which I faked my way through almost as badly as April on Parks and Rec had—Ali brought over five new glasses, four filled with the white “Babyfeet” wine and one with white grape juice. We sampled, and Eric asked Ali to bring the bottle over. I had to take another sip of my “wine” to cover my face as she did and they looked over the bottle. Andrew’s wife Jennifer was the first to catch the meaning and, with a squeal of excitement, jump out of her chair and hug me. Everyone else was quick to follow, a congratulatory chorus echoing in the space. As I’d assumed would be the case, we didn’t get much done after that.

I had my first real confrontation with people who had a more negative opinion towards my decision when I posted a picture of the bump online that same weekend. I’d included a brief explanation of why I’d chosen IVF, and left it at that. Of course, there were the many excited fans posting positive comments and posts, but there were those ones telling me I was wrong for doing it this way, that I was “going to Hell and the baby would be damned.” So many people telling me they’d lost respect for me because I couldn’t wait and do things the proper way. I’d love to say I took those comments in stride, that I ignored them and focused instead on moments like when Colton, who played my son Noah, started excitedly making plans for everything he was going to do with his “new best friend” Charlie, but they got to me. I worried that Charlie wouldn’t get the same love from our fans as Andrew and Eric’s children got, that instead he’d be ridiculed for my choices. I was afraid for the future, how everyone I wasn’t close with would treat him when they found out he was different. I wanted to believe I’d be enough for him, but was that just false hope? It’s not like his world wouldn’t be filled with strong male and female figures, but did he need a dad to really make it? Was I just being selfish, and was that selfishness going to ruin his life? Even worse than the comments, gossip magazines began running stories, using me as the poster girl of “alternative pregnancy.” It was like I wasn’t a person anymore, just some idea people could lash out at. It’s not as though I hadn’t received my fair share of hate comments in the past, but all of this was different. No longer were they shaming me because I cut my hair shorter than they thought or dyed it the wrong color, things that were so inconsequential in the long-run. They were criticizing me going after what I wanted, condemning me during what was supposed to be the happiest time in my life because the way I went about it didn’t fit their cookie cutter world.

We wrapped shooting in early April, the last scene filmed being the birth scene. Given the current plot of the show and our setting in a post-apocalyptic world, Carter had a vastly different experience than I was about to have a month after. Instead of a nice hospital room with doctors and nurses galore, this scene involved laying on a dingy table in a dimly lit room with her friends to help. Still, when they placed the all-too realistic doll on my chest, it just made me all the more eager to get to do this for real and finally meet Charlie.

May 2, 2018. Three days before the projected due date. I’d woken up early in the morning to sharp pains in my abdomen. I made myself busy until my water finally broke and my contractions had gotten to that “every 5-7 minute” point at 9:23 AM, 5 hours after I’d woken up. Go time. I was out of the house and in an Uber on the way to the hospital in 7 minutes flat, a new record. I made it to the hospital in just under 20 minutes, headed straight to the Labor and Delivery area and was admitted to the triage room. The nurses decided the labor was progressed enough to admit me, and the next thirteen hours turned into an ice-chip fueled waiting game. I was alone in Vancouver, everyone having already gone home now that the season was over. Matt was in Louisiana filming his next movie, and my mom was supposed to fly in on the 4th. At around 11 o’clock that night, I finally began to feel like I needed to push. I called a nurse who, in turn, found the doctor, and it was time to go.

For the first few minutes, everything was going well. Then, I started feeling light-headed and more tired than I’d been all day. I chalked it up to the pain and continued to follow the doctor’s orders. Moments later, the machines I was hooked up to began beeping rapidly. The nurses and doctor began working faster to get Charlie out. Once he’d made his arrival, they quickly took him to the table against the wall. He wasn’t crying like he was supposed to. He was silent.

“What’s going on? Is he alright?” No one answered. I listened to the doctor’s rushed commands as they worked on Charlie, every word he uttered hanging in the still air of the room.

He wasn’t breathing.

It wasn’t working.

They lost him.

It was determined that the drop in my blood pressure during the delivery led to Perinatal Asphyxia. Charlie couldn’t get enough oxygen; he went into cardiac arrest and died on the table before I’d ever even gotten the chance to see more than a glimpse of him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“I can’t do this. I need to stop.” I stood from my chair, handing the baby to Andrew as the director yelled “Cut,” and walked off the set. It had been three months since Charlie, but the wound was still fresh. I’d erased all the social media apps on my phone, unable to let myself use the sites as distraction when I was flooded with notifications from people expressing their sympathy once the news broke. I appreciated the sentiment, but I couldn’t keep seeing that every day. I spent our hiatus back in Connecticut with my family and Matt—who’d remained my rock through this—and only made the decision to come back to work because I thought it would distract me. But playing a doting mother of a newborn when my reality was so far from that pulled me right back into those initial moments after I had Charlie. I couldn’t take it. The director called to break for lunch, and I sprinted back to my trailer, tears welling in my eyes.

I was in my trailer alone for a few minutes before there was a light knock on the door. I wiped my eyes but remained in my spot on the couch.

“It’s open,” I called out, my voice small. Our Prop Master, Cathy, opened the door and walked up the steps.

“Hey, hon. Do you want to talk?” She came over and sat at the other end of the couch.

“I just…I just feel so hopeless now,” I started, skipping any kind of formality. “Charlie was my everything for so long, and now I’m stuck with this huge emptiness. I don’t know what to do. I want so badly to go out there and keep going. Carter, this show, all I’ve known for 15 years is this. I don’t want to give it up but…I don’t think I’m strong enough to do this.” Cathy put her hand on my arm sympathetically.

“Here.” She reached into her pocket to retrieve a card and handed it to me. “This is a support group for women going through what you did. A few years ago, my friend went through this, and she says she wouldn’t have been able to get through it the way she did without going and sharing with the group.”

“Thank you, Cathy,” I said, looking up from the card. “But—”

“Just think about it.” She smiled warmly and, like some fairy godmother here to point me in the right direction, gave me a tight hug and left.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“And, uh, that’s what brought me here. I have to admit, I almost didn’t come. I just had those nasty comments going through my head along with the thought that some paparazzi would catch me coming out of here, and I’d be ridiculed for not being able to handle this. But I know I can’t. And I can’t keep going like this, either. I mean, I was so happy before this. I can’t help but think that had I known how much I’d be struggling right now, I wouldn’t have done it. I would have just found a way to be happy being “Aunt Naomi;” I wouldn’t have forced this. I don’t care how happy I was through the pregnancy, It feels meaningless now; everything does. I just feel like doing this, trying to have a baby like this…

it was just one big mistake.”

#emilys-write #my writing #fiction #tw miscarriage #cw miscarriage

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