nurse nine

concept

jake waking up to the sweet snuffling sounds of amy nursing their baby as she sits upright in bed next to him…she runs her free hand through his floofy bed hair as he stirs and he sleepily grins up at her and thinks to himself how did he ever get so lucky…his half alseep brain handily provides flashbacks of all the times he thought he’d die alone, all the times he thought he’d never be a father,, but then he remembers to just be grateful for this love and this life so he strokes his baby’s cheek (how are babies’ cheeks so impossibly soft) before placing an arm round amy’s torso (he would argue amy’s skin is just as soft) (genes, he thinks)

Burn Percentage in Adults

Rule of Nines:

This rule is used to help guide treatment decisions including fluid resuscitation and to determine transfer to a burn unit.

You can estimate the body surface area on an adult that has been burned by using multiples of 9.

For example, if both legs (18% x 2 = 36%), the groin (1%) and the front chest and abdomen were burned, this would involve 55% of the body.

anonymous asked:

My English teacher left me very confused when learning about Romeo and Juliet. He said that it wasn't a love story because they didn't love each other; Juliet just basically used Romeo, but I don't know what to think. Can you please explain to me if it's a love story, tragedy, or both?

Did your teacher say that Juliet used Romeo? How rude.

The first thing we have to remember is that the feud is the exponent of an unhealthy ideology that promotes violence, hatred, prejudice, and brutal misogyny. Don’t ever forget the world they lived in. Romeo and Juliet are not normal teenagers living in a normal world and making stupid decisions. They are children whose mental health ends up destroyed by the ideals of their families. I just won’t stand anyone who refers to them as ‘dumb’ because it’s a very insulting way of dismissing the destructiveness of social oppression and abuse. It’s so evident that their families caused their deaths that at the end of the play nobody has the guts to blame them for their own deaths and dismiss their emotions as shallow or dishonest. What they have done is too monstrous for them to deny. When both patriarchs find the young lovers dead together in the crypt they see the wrong in their actions and take responsibility for it. They know they killed their children. It was not teenage folly that ruined Romeo and Juliet. It was a sick society that glorified violence and prejudice.

Perhaps your male teacher is annoyed by the fact that Juliet hardly fits in the role of a sixteenth-century obedient wife who goes along with whatever her husband has to say. On the contrary, Juliet has a voice of her own. It is evident from the first conversation between the lovers that she has a very particular, specific way of thinking, and which doesn’t necessarily match that of Romeo. For instance, she gently mocks his stereotyped courtship when she says “you kiss by the book.” I would say she is a far better poet than him—he actually learns from her. Think about the way she corrects him when he tries to swear his love by the moon. She literally rationalizes everything. Romeo needs to get on her level. Later on, he will ask her to “sweeten with thy breath / This neighbour air, and let rich music’s tongue / Unfold the imagined happiness that both / Receive in either by this dear encounter,” to which Juliet answers that “conceit, more rich in matter than in words, / Brags of his substance, not of ornament”. You see, she doesn’t always agree with him, and she presents her own points of view resolutely. She is the one to give lessons.

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Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017 - Day Six

A/N: Somehow, and I have absolutely no idea how, I am on track to pull off seven short fics in seven days for my FOURTH Appreciation Week in a row!  So yay me.  Dialogue in the first scene is borrowed from “The Six Thatchers” because borrowing stuff from other people is apparently a thing I do this week.  Unbeta’d, as per.  Will go up on FF.net and Ao3 later tonight or early tomorrow morning.

Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017 – Day Six (Canon Compliant – Season 4)

Hi

“Father, we ask you to send your blessings on this water.”  Vicar Thomlin drew the sign of the cross in the baptismal font.  “And sanctify it for our use this day, in Christ’s name.”

He turned to Mary, John, and their tiny baby.  “Now, what name have you given your daughter?”

John and Mary share a look, then Mary proudly told the Vicar, “Rosamund Mary.”

As if he were surprised, Sherlock lifted his gaze from his phone for a moment.  “Rosamund?”

“Means ‘rose of the world’,” Molly whispered.  She smiled. “Rosie for short.”

Sherlock nearly rolled his eyes before returning his attention to his phone.

“Didn’t you get John’s text?” she asked, wondering if there was some chance John had accidentally forgotten to inform Sherlock of the latest (and final, thank goodness) name choice.

“No, I delete his texts.”  His thumbs continued to fly across the mobile screen.  “I delete any text that begins, ‘Hi’.”

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Five year plan

It had been five years since Bucky became Bucky again, since he’d left HYDRA, lived in Bucharest and been reunited with Steve. A year of that had been spent in Cryo freeze but it had been like falling asleep. It had been his choice and all of the doubt and guilt and hurt had been lifted from his battered shoulders as he was put to sleep in a Wakandan facility.
He’d woken up to Steve’s stupid face, his stupid grin splitting his face as he watched his best friend getting thawed out. Bucky had been furious, he’d looked at the calendar on the wall and calculated that he’d been out for just over a year – why the hell was Steve there and why wasn’t he worried about the beating he was about to get?!

It was a good thing that Captain America was a fast talker and that Bucky had been a little weak from the ice. They’d found a way to deactivate him. Not fully but enough that Bucky could be safe, could feel safe.
Months in a sort of rehab programme taught him to associate his trigger words with something else, they started with “Longing” taught him to change it’s meaning, to not let it make him tense and his heart stop. Things he thought were stupid, like writing the word down again and again and again, saying it out loud and putting it into conversations throughout the day, things that he thought were stupid but did anyway – desperate for it to work. They did it with every word until he could hear three of them without his mind beginning to shut down.

Steve was always there, always prompting him on memories and giving him any and all support he needed. They would train together like in the old days and even though Bucky was forbidden from missions that didn’t stop his friend from asking his advice on strategies. It was during his time in the facility that he met Y/N, she was one of the nurses there and she’d made him laugh. Whether it was her own clumsiness or her out sassing Steve, maybe the way she’d always touch him gently when passing by or the fact that she a little broken too, Bucky didn’t know exactly why but he liked her.

He’d talk to her about things he remembered, at first it was things from his previous life – how he met Steve, when he got in trouble for stealing candy and his father sent him to a boys camp to straighten him out, how some guy broke his sister’s heart and he beat seven bells out of him. He’d never talk about the Winter Soldier. Not until she stopped him mid story with a confession of her own, she’d told him about how she had drowned her younger brother because she’d been told to.

As a child she had been raised on a communal farm for some religious cult. How every day she would go to lessons that told her how to live, how to fix what was wrong with the world, how to dress, how to eat, how obey. From the day she was born she’d been conditioned by some lunatic calling himself a priest. Bucky had listened to her silently, listened to how her little brother who had only been six years old wasn’t cutting it for the cult and it was decided he had to die. That she had to be the one to do it or her entire family would be shamed. His sweet little nurse, at nine years old, had forced her kid brother’s head into a trough of water meant for the pigs until he stopped moving.
She’d told him not because she wanted to, not because she wanted him to feel sorry for her but to make him understand that it had been out of her control – it was her fault, she’d carry that for the rest of her life but she had been doing what she had been conditioned to do. She’d not had control of herself but deep down she knew she’d been wrong and got away.

Just like him.

After that he told her more, he shared more and got everything off of his chest, she’d let him cry and rage, she’d let him beat himself up about it but then she would ask, ‘Am I bad person, Bucky? I murdered my brother. I don’t deserve even a scrap of happiness, right?’

He’d always reply that, 'No. You’re an angel. That wasn’t your fault and you shouldn’t be punished – you help people and you deserve only good things.’

She would look at him with a half smile and say, 'Then why are you different?’ She would sweep his hair behind his ear and whisper, 'Why don’t you deserve happiness? No one can punish you more than yourself so let other’s make you happy.’
He’d understood it then. He was able to let some of it go, to forgive himself only a little and allow himself to smile a little more freely.

Five years felt like a life time to him, if he threw his mind back to six years ago he wouldn’t have believed he had been the fist of HYDRA, wouldn’t have believed that it was only such a short time ago. Bucky Barnes had found himself only a few years ago and already he’d achieved more than in his entire life – Frozen and awake. The pretty nurse he’d been fond of had become his girlfriend, she’d giggle when he called her his best girl, they’d go out, stay in, she’d yell at him for taking missions and he’d grouse at her about her late shifts. She hated that he went out to get shot at and he hated that she worked with men like him, mentally unstable and dangerous. She’d remind him that he was in control now, that he wasn’t unstable but in danger of her punching him in the groin if he didn’t wind his neck in.

She’d been there when his new arm had been installed, Y/N complaining that she couldn’t look after him anymore but he’d soon changed her mind by showing her what he could do with two hands. He’d married her. Only a small ceremony with their friends, Steve had cried all through it and the bride and groom had mocked him for weeks after – sending him boxes of tissues with designs of the Avengers all over them.

They had a simple apartment in Brooklyn, Mr and Mrs Barnes were delightful neighbours and that was probably one of the reasons that they were so forgiving of babies Sara and Maria crying all night. Another thing that had made the overgrown, blonde super soldier weep – they’d named one of their twins after his mother. Tony had been quiet when they’d asked to name one of the girl’s after his mother but he’d smiled in the end and said he’d allow it if he got to be godfather.

Bucky rubbed his daughter’s back soothingly as she screamed into his shoulder, he paced her up and down the hall whilst his wife did the same with their other child, though Sara preferred to be cradled in her parents arms whilst Maria liked being held against Bucky’s chest. 'I changed them both…’ he said almost apologetically to Y/N.

She gave him a tired smile back, 'And I fed them both.’ Her lips pressed to his naked shoulder as they passed, 'Also there’s sick down your back.’

'I know.’ He sighed and rocked his baby a little, nuzzling into the tiny tuft of hair on her head and asking her what was wrong. 'I think we need Frank.’

'Oh god, yes! We need Frank right now.’ They were perfectly synchronised in this baby routine by now, she passed him their daughter, making sure he had the two tiny bundled secure in his arms before jogging down the hall to find Frank. Bucky kissed both his girls and headed back into their nursery to carefully manoeuvre himself into the large nursing chair Clint had gifted them – he said they would need it and he was so right. He never thought he’d be using his skills as an assassin to get into seats without jostling a baby or two. Maria was still resting against him, crying loudly into his chest whilst Sara chorused a little lower in the crook of his flesh arm, that was until the soft voice of Frank Sinatra started to fill the room, the little portable player in his wife’s hand. 'They like vintage things.’

Bucky grinned at her then, tired from sleepless nights but genuinely happy as he commented, 'That’s why they like me best – I’m vintage!’

'Ugh! Dad jokes already?’ She sat on the arm of the chair, stroking through the once soldier’s hair and watching fondly as her babies began to calm, Sara yawned widely and wriggled into Bucky’s arm to sleep. Maria, however, decided that sucking against the cool metal of her father’s arm was better than wailing… he’d be cleaning drool out of the joints of metal for hours. She peeked at his face and saw that he really didn’t care, his affectionate expression was nothing but warm and she couldn’t be happier or prouder of their little family.

Five years ago James Buchanan Barnes would have laughed in your face if you’d told him he had a future.

Now he couldn’t wait for the rest.

9

So @forestwildflower tagged me to post pictures of some asthetic thingy, so allow me to tell you why these pictures represent me.
1. Best picture of the American Flag I’ve ever taken, & I’m a proud American.
2. Explains itself (from Nine Line Apparel, highly recommend).
3. The proper way to drink sweet tea (flannel is optional but always a plus).
4. Hereford calves give me life with their sweet, clean, white faces.
5. My name (duh) & my favorite pair of cowboy boots.
6. Once a farmer’s daughter, always a farmer’s daughter, even after the farm is gone.
7. Maryland pride (plus we have an awesome state flag).
8. One of the back roads close to my house/hometown.
9. Future nurse (& I’m still completely obsessed with my stethoscope).

I just got home from work, so I don’t have the brain power to tag anyone. Maybe when I wake up I will, but if you feel the need to do this for yourself, please feel free to use me as the person who tagged you :) y'all have a good day. I’m going to bed.

@bloodaltar tagged me in a thing to list 10 songs I’ve been jamming to!

-George Michael- Freeek!


-Nurse with Wound- Bottom Feeder


-Lemon Demon- Sweet Bod


-Alice Cooper- Nurse Rozetta


-Psyclon Nine- While You Sleep


-Grimes- Kill V Maim


-Peccatum- Desolate Ever After


-Coil- Careful What You Wish For


-Sopor Aeternus & The Ensemble of Shadows- In der Palastra


-Breathe Carolina- Edge of Heaven

I’m tagging @goodfrogboy @ghostwunk @slimepop @transmanroadhog @venomsn4ke @184o

Charlotte Riley: At the peak of her powers | The Independent

For the last half hour or so, Charlotte Riley has given a very good impression of someone who will happily talk about anything. How she failed to get into drama school first time, finding her inner clown (more on this later), fishy canapés at film premieres, what Tom Cruise is really like on set (“Really leads from the top and makes you feel very welcome”, apparently) and the fact that she hasn’t yet got round to finishing the book on which her next big role is based.

There is one thing, though, that turns the actress’s warm Middlesbrough chatter off like a tap. She has been in a relationship with Tom Hardy – perhaps best known as Bane in The Dark Knight Rises – since he played Heathcliff to her Cathy on ITV in 2009. Two days before our interview, it is reported that they have married “in secret”, or at least without issuing a press release to the world’s media. The ceremony was possibly in the south of France, possibly as long as two months ago. Today, there is no wedding band next to her engagement ring. Is Hardy her husband? “Ahh. Well. Ahh. I don’t really want to talk about that side of things,” she says, taking a frantic swig from an empty mug of peppermint tea. OK, but it must be weird to have your marital status the subject of so much speculation? “We’re really quite lucky because when we’re out and about, just getting on with life, people are super-polite. He doesn’t get recognised a huge amount and I certainly don’t, so it doesn’t affect us hugely.”

It doesn’t even faze them when they work together – which they have done quite a lot. Having met on Wuthering Heights, they were reunited soon after on the set of The Take. Now they are co-stars once more in the new series of Peaky Blinders. Neither one knew that the other had been cast in the show when they took the roles – “I got the job and I rang Tom up to tell him and he said, ‘That’s really weird. Steve [Knight, the director] has just asked me…” – and they do not share any scenes. In fact, the only reason they saw one another at all on set was down to their beloved dog, Woody, now the third member of the household to land a part in the show. “We call him a ‘Bitser’ – he’s bits of this and that – a labrador, but he’s got this big, bushy tail.” One day, when it was Riley’s turn to dog-sit on set, Woody got up and padded down the street behind Hardy as he filmed a scene. “The director said, ‘Would he do that for every scene?’ So he got himself a part, just by being super-obedient.”

Riley joins the BBC gangster drama one series in. She plays May Carlton, an aristocratic First World War widow who trains race horses. This brings her into contact with the gang boss, Tommy Shelby (Cillian Murphy), who is looking to expand his portfolio, and they strike up an unlikely rapport. “In her he finds a kind of equal – she’s financially independent, she doesn’t need a partner. It’s quite interesting to watch the power struggle,” says Riley, who is dressed today in white brogues and tweed cap, in a subconscious nod to the show’s style.

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Imagine Andy Biersack: Perfectly Imperfect

You were curled up on the floor of your grade’s hallway. The eighth grade hallway. The eighth grade team had made it that way so it was special. Only eighth graders were allowed in that hallway.

Sometimes, you liked it that way. Most of the time, you absolutely adored the fact that only the big kids of the school were permitted.

But today? Oh no.

You had decided to skip lunch and hang out in the eighth grade wing today. You never ate lunch at school, anyway. You always waited until you got home because your brother, Andy, was sure to have had prepared you a kickass meal. He was the best cook you’d ever met in your life.

Planning on studying, you definitely had not gotten what you wanted.

You were currently getting the shit beaten out of you by people in your group. They were in all of your classes.

“You like Zelda?! You realize that Zelda is for nerds?!” Josh, a basketball player, asked, kicking you repeatedly.

You groaned in response.

“You’re not a nerd, Y/N. You’re a suicidal emo slut!” another boy, Michael, told you.

Your head was bashed in by this point. You were bleeding from the mouth, stomach, head…basically everywhere.

You couldn’t move to defend yourself, or even move at all.

You continued to be brutalized by football players, basketball players, even a straight A student. Kicks, punches, and a ton of pressure reigned down on your fragile, 99 pound body. No, you were not anorexic. You were just really short.

“Harry Potter?! Anime?! Dork!”

You felt as if you were going to cough up a lung any second now.

Your vision began to blur, and the voices of the ones injuring you began to sound faint, as if they were all the way down in a different wing, shouting to you.

All of a sudden, you heard new voices. You didn’t recognize them at first, but they were the voices of your social studies and science teacher.

They had entered the wing to unlock their classrooms.

As soon as they saw what was going on, the two men sprinted down the hallway.

Almost instantly, the blows to your person halted.

You could just barely hear your science teacher shouting at the boys.

Your eyes began to close slowly. All the noise began to blend together.

Your social studies teacher gently lifted you from the ground and into his arms. You involuntarily flinched.

The rest of the grade started coming in from their mid-day talk that was held outside every day.

“JESSICA! CALL A FUCKING AMBULANCE!” your social studies teacher, Mr. James, shouted to your writing lab teacher.

She immediately whipped out her cellphone and dialed 911.

Mr. James moved the hair gently from your face and bounced you, hoping you wouldn’t fall asleep. You couldn’t do that now. It might kill you.

“Hey, hey. Stay with me. Stay awake,” he instructed repeatedly, starting to carry you down the hallway.

The brown haired man took you outside and waited for the ambulance to arrive.

It was there in under five minutes.

Just as you were being lifted into the vehicle, it went dark.

_____

It had been two weeks since you had been hospitalized. You had been in a coma ever since you closed your eyes.

When you got to the hospital, Andy was already there. One of the teachers had called him. Within the next day, your parents, Chris and Amy, were flown in from Cincinnati.

Your entire immediate family was currently in your hospital room.

Your mother was asleep on the hospital chair. She had barely slept since you were admitted.

Andy was lying in bed next to you, holding you as close as the machines you were connected to would allow.

Your father was out getting food for everybody.

Your older brother ran his fingers through your hair repeatedly with a sigh. How could anybody dare to treat his baby girl like that?!

You were unconscious, so you couldn’t hear his ranting.

“This is my baby,” Andy announced, “Mine. Nobody hurts my baby.”

The brunette pushed the button that called for a nurse. Soon enough, your nurse, Kelly, was in the room.

“Yes?” she asked the twenty-three year old.

“When the fuck will my sister wake up?! I’m fucking tired of this, man,” Andy stated, obviously very annoyed. The blonde that stood in front of him let out a breath.

“I don’t know when she’ll wake up, but I do know that her vitals are looking great,” Kelly informed him, glancing over at one of the machines.  

Tears brimmed in the man’s eyes. All he wanted was to hear your sweet voice again. All he wanted was to squeeze you, and for you to squeeze back tighter.

“I’ll be back to inject more medication soon,” the nurse told him softly, followed by turning on her heel and walking out of the near completely white room.

Andy held you close to him, kissing your forehead gently.

“C’mon, babe. You know you’ve gotta wake up.”

The lead vocalist fixated his sight on your heart rate machine. It was steady, but it wasn’t beating as it would if you were conscious.

Andy began to silently count your heart beats, now glaring at the monitor so hard that if he could make it, it’d burst into flames.

One…Two…Three…Four…Five…

Near deafening silence filled the hospital room. The threat of your death hung heavy in the air.

Six…Seven…Eight…Nine…

“NURSE!” your older sibling screamed, pounding on the call button with all of his might.

The noise caused Amy to wake up from her deep sleep.

“NURSE!” he bellowed once again.

Kelly rushed back in, and once she saw what was displayed, she screamed for doctors as loudly as she could.

In the midst of all the commotion, Chris walked back in the room with bags of McDonalds and a tray of assorted drinks.

“What in God’s name…”

Within ten seconds of Andy climbing off of the bed, your parents could see what was going on.

“One…Two…Clear!”

You continued to be unresponsive.

“One…Two…CLEAR!”

Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…

Andy breathed a sigh of relief as you were resuscitated. Your mother was now fully out of DreamLand and your father had just put together the pieces and it clicked in his brain what the hell had just happened to his baby girl, his only daughter.

The jolts of electricity had been enough to wake you from your unconscious state, and you slowly opened your eyes.

In the first few moments of your waking, you had no clue of anything that was going on around you. You didn’t know what had happened. You didn’t know where you were. You didn’t know who you were with. You didn’t even know who you were.

A pained groan found its way up your throat as you began to re-enter reality. Your beautiful blue orbs, courtesy of the lovely Amy Biersack, darted around the near pure white room.

You saw machines, a lot of white and more doctors than made you comfortable hovering over your teen body.

“I think she needs a bit of space, from, urh, strangers,”  you heard a vaguely familiar deep voice inform the men in, shocker, white.

Who was that? You just know that you’ve heard that voice somewhere, but where?

Once the doctors backed off, and you were able to see a face, you recognized the voice instantly.

“H-Hi A-Andrew,” you smiled weakly.

Andy’s heart seemingly dropped seven stories when he heard your scratchy, hoarse, weak voice. It wasn’t the strongest, but it was yours. It was the voice of his beloved baby sister. His favorite person in the entire world.

“Hey, kiddo,” the tall man greeted with a shaky smile, sitting on your hospital bed, gently placing his hand on your leg.

He was so happy that you were finally awake.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” the singer asked in a concerned tone of voice.

“I…I f-feel like I was j-just run over by an eighteen wheeler t-truck,” you answered with blatant honesty.

“Understandable,” Andy said, a small smile forming on his lips.

He had always loved that about you, how you were always so blunt.

When Andy moved to lay down with you, you saw your parents. Amy was looking a mess. She would be drowning in her tears right now if she could.

“H-Hey parentals,” you addressed, cracking a grin.

Even though it caused you a ton of pain, you still held your arms out for the redhead that stood in front of the bed.

“Come…Come h-here mommy,” you invited.

Amy came forward and you hugged her as tightly as you could without hurting yourself, which was pretty gently, if you were being honest.

“It’s o-o-okay mommy, I’m a-awake now,” you smiled in attempt to make her feel better.

Amy shakily grinned, gently kissing your forehead.

“I k-know you are, beautiful. That’s why I’m crying.”

__

Once everything had calmed down and everybody had come to terms with your state of being conscious, you laid with Andy, watching your favorite YouTubers, V Squared, on Andy’s iPad. They were relatively new, only starting YouTube at the beginning of the current year.

You had strategically placed your head on the singer’s chest so that you could be comfortable and still hear and see Vinny and Luke.

Your parents had gone to get dinner for all of you, so you were alone with your older brother.

“Remember to subscribe, give this video a big thumbs up, and we’ll see you next week!” Luke smiled in his dreamy British accent.

Once the video had ended, Andy looked over at you.

“Y/N?” he asked.

“Yeah Andrew?”

“Can you tell me…Can you tell me what happened that day? When you got admitted? Your social studies teacher called and all he told me was that you were found getting the crap kicked out of you in the hall.”

You sighed, which caused you extreme pain as at least five of your ribs were cracked. Did you really have to talk about this?

“They told me that I was nerdy, Andrew. They hit me and kicked me and told me that I’m a suicidal emo slut,” you whispered.

That second comment was actually partially true, as you had attempted to kill yourself two times in the past because you couldn’t take the bullying. That was the reason your parents decided to let you live with Andy, to get you away from it. Obviously, that plan failed big time.

“Oh my poor baby,” the blue-eyed man sympathized.

He kissed your forehead gently and then pulled away to gaze into the eyes that matched his perfectly.

“You are none of those things, honey. Absolutely none of it. You’re not ‘nerdy’ for liking certain things. Even if you like Zelda, anime, Harry Potter, whatever. You’re not. And you are definitely not a ‘suicidal emo slut’ or a ‘freak’ just because you tried to cope with a hard time. I got bullied too, sweetiepie. Although I didn’t try to deal with it the way that you have in the past, that doesn’t mean that I don’t understand. I do. But you know what? Their opinions don’t matter in the least. Their opinions are worthless. The only opinion that matters, in the end, is yours. The only opinion that counts? Not mine, not mom or dads, not theirs. Yours. Even if our opinions may factor into the way that events in your life occur, yours is the one that is truly going to help you. Yours is the one that will give you the most strength and determination to get you what you want in life. And no matter what happens, or what you do in life, just remember that I will always love you. Mom and Dad too. We will always be there for you and we will always have your back one hundred fucking percent. That is the most important thing. Knowing that you have people to back you up and to love you unconditionally. We will try to help you in any way we can, even if that means my dropping my career for a little while to homeschool you, or your moving back to Cincy for a bit. Whatever it takes, you will get better and one day you will be happy. I care about you, young lady, way too much not to see that happen.”

Tears brimmed in your breath-taking eyes as Andy’s mini-speech concluded. Somebody actually thought that you were worth the time of day. I mean, you knew that they had your back, but to hear it was just so reassuring to you. It meant that everything would be okay. You had people that would be there for you forever.

You threw your arm over your brother to give him a makeshift hug.

He smiled wide and hugged you back very carefully.

A comfortable silence hung in the clean air as the pair of you simply laid there, taking in all of what had happened, what had just been said. Without words, it had been agreed upon that that’d be the way it stayed until Chris and Amy returned. It was the best decision that’d been made in awhile.

 

[Written by ~Ashley’s Little Outlaw]