the wait was worse than the results

Ways to un-stick a stuck story
  • Do an outline, whatever way works best. Get yourself out of the word soup and know where the story is headed.
  • Conflicts and obstacles. Hurt the protagonist, put things in their way, this keeps the story interesting. An easy journey makes the story boring and boring is hard to write.
  • Change the POV. Sometimes all it takes to untangle a knotted story is to look at it through different eyes, be it through the sidekick, the antagonist, a minor character, whatever.
  • Know the characters. You can’t write a story if the characters are strangers to you. Know their likes, dislikes, fears, and most importantly, their motivation. This makes the path clearer.
  • Fill in holes. Writing doesn’t have to be linear; you can always go back and fill in plotholes, and add content and context.
  • Have flashbacks, hallucinations, dream sequences or foreshadowing events. These stir the story up, deviations from the expected course add a feeling of urgency and uncertainty to the narrative.
  • Introduce a new mystery. If there’s something that just doesn’t add up, a big question mark, the story becomes more compelling. Beware: this can also cause you to sink further into the mire.
  • Take something from your protagonist. A weapon, asset, ally or loved one. Force him to operate without it, it can reinvigorate a stale story.
  • Twists and betrayal. Maybe someone isn’t who they say they are or the protagonist is betrayed by someone he thought he could trust. This can shake the story up and get it rolling again.
  • Secrets. If someone has a deep, dark secret that they’re forced to lie about, it’s a good way to stir up some fresh conflict. New lies to cover up the old ones, the secret being revealed, and all the resulting chaos.
  • Kill someone. Make a character death that is productive to the plot, but not “just because”. If done well, it affects all the characters, stirs up the story and gets it moving.
  • Ill-advised character actions. Tension is created when a character we love does something we hate. Identify the thing the readers don’t want to happen, then engineer it so it happens worse than they imagined.
  • Create cliff-hangers. Keep the readers’ attention by putting the characters into new problems and make them wait for you to write your way out of it. This challenge can really bring out your creativity.
  • Raise the stakes. Make the consequences of failure worse, make the journey harder. Suddenly the protagonist’s goal is more than he expected, or he has to make an important choice.
  • Make the hero active. You can’t always wait for external influences on the characters, sometimes you have to make the hero take actions himself. Not necessarily to be successful, but active and complicit in the narrative.
  • Different threat levels. Make the conflicts on a physical level (“I’m about to be killed by a demon”), an emotional level (“But that demon was my true love”) and a philosophical level (“If I’m forced to kill my true love before they kill me, how can love ever succeed in the face of evil?”).
  • Figure out an ending. If you know where the story is going to end, it helps get the ball rolling towards that end, even if it’s not the same ending that you actually end up writing.
  • What if? What if the hero kills the antagonist now, gets captured, or goes insane? When you write down different questions like these, the answer to how to continue the story will present itself.
  • Start fresh or skip ahead. Delete the last five thousand words and try again. It’s terrifying at first, but frees you up for a fresh start to find a proper path. Or you can skip the part that’s putting you on edge – forget about that fidgety crap, you can do it later – and write the next scene. Whatever was in-between will come with time.
Origin stories are heralds of doom

Working as a veterinarian means you end up doing a lot of work with people. This gives you a lot of opportunity for people watching, and you notice patterns of behaviour. This is useful because it helps you realise what these clients need, but don’t want to ask you.

I’ve noticed that when people start to tell you about their pet’s life story, particularly their origin story, they’re already grappling with the idea that they’re about to lose their pet, even if they don’t know it yet. It’s like they know they’re about to be devastated, it’s a fast attempt to make me, the veterinarian, understand why their pet in particular is so very special to them. It’s a cry for validation that the grief that is about to wash over them is valid and justified.

I already know their grief is real and justified, even if it’s the first time I’ve met the animal and family. You can see it. It might be the family pet, but most of the time that pet has one special human that is their favourite, one human that loves them just a little bit more than the others, and I can see it on their faces.

The origin stories are all the same, and all unique.

“He was the runt of the litter and had to be put on a table so the other pups would stop bullying him while I was there. I went back and had to have him.”

“She was my daughter’s dog, but we started dog sitting when she had her first baby and then she just never left.”

“I’ve had him since he was three weeks old, a tiny scrap of fluff we found under the tomato bush and bottle fed.”

“The cat just walked into our new house like she owned the place, terrorised the dog and never wanted to leave.”

“She had kittens under the chair on my veranda, so I took her inside to make her comfortable.”

They’re all heartfelt stories of beautiful, ordinary moments that make life special, but they’re always told around the time of euthanasia. Some tell them before they’ve accepted the fact that they need to say goodbye, some say it afterwards as they’re composing themselves.

I was working emergency yesterday, a gruelling twelve hour shift on a public holiday. I had several palliative care and complex medical cases on the go from the previous weeks, and because I hate to leave my clients and patients without a plan I had told them which emergency clinic I would be working at so they could contact me if they were unsure about anything. It’s better for your long term sanity than handing out your mobile number to clients, which I can’t answer in work hours anyway.

When I arrive at my emergency shift at midday I find one of my patients waiting for me in a cage, hooked up to pain relief and looking miserable. The hospital vet hands over responsibility for her to me, and I go through her blood results. Pancreatitis and massive inflammation, in addition to everything else she has going on.

The day goes on, crazy busy, and ten hours later she’s starting to look worse. Puffing, ventral oedema and a subtle bruise colour developing on her shaved abdomen.

At shift handover I explain the dog’s story to the night vet at the start of her shift.

“Her owner died a few months ago, and the day of his funeral the patient had her first seizure. Subsequently also diagnosed with heart disease. At 1 month recheck noted weight loss and identified abdominal mass. Wife wasn’t going to put her through surgery, then got an attack of the guilts because her husband would have done anything for this dog. Mass is single lobe of liver, hugely distended, while rest of liver appears normal. Results are most likely liver tumour at base of lobe, undefined. Patient nearly died under anaesthetic but has been recovering well these last ten days until presentation. She’s anxious in hospital and wont eat without her humans around, her favourite is chicken.”

I told her origin story. I really knew, but didn’t want to accept, that my patient wouldn’t be leaving ICU and I put her to sleep a few hours later. Since her owner’s death it seems like she’d been trying very hard to join him, between the seizures, heart disease, liver tumour, pancreatitis and DIC.

I don’t cry over many patients, but I did for her.

And I told her origin story.

Saeran Choi: Memorized.

Number of words: 5,032 kill me please
Saeran Choi x Reader
Enjoy or at least try to

     ˙·٠•●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●•٠·˙

     “Hey, are you feeling hot? The temperature is hot! Wait a moment, there’s an ice cream truck over there, I will bring us some!”

     “Whatever you wish, princess.”

     The girl beamed happily, untangling her hand from his fingers. In a blink of an eye, she was already running in the truck’s direction.

     He suddenly heard tires’ squeal and his head instantly turned towards the racing car. The girl froze in her spot.

     The instinct was faster than his thoughts. 

     His only purpose was to push her out of the road. Everything happened so quickly that he didn’t even manage to acknowledge his own action.

     The whole scene lasted a mere few seconds.

     And then everything went black.

     ˙·٠•●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●•٠·˙

     “[Name]… [Name]. Calm down, [Name].” Saeyoung grabbed your wrist and turned you towards him. His hands were on your cheeks now, making you look at him. Your face was covered in tears and you couldn’t even breathe at this point.

     “Saeyoung, it’s… This… is my fault… T-this is my fucking fault, h-he’s… W-what if he…”

     “Please, calm down, [Name].” You tried to move away from him, but he held you in place, his eyes staring deep into yours. You could see he was as terrified as you now, but you panicking was much enough and so he managed to keep his head. “[Name], breathe.”

     He kept repeating your name over and over unless you finally gave up. The tears started streaming down your cheeks and you sobbed helplessly, finding little comfort in the boy’s embrace.

     Your heart was clenching in your chest and you felt as if the whole world just collapsed onto you. Your mind was filled with dark thoughts and never in your life were you so scared.

     The door of the operating room suddenly opened and your head instantly turned towards the doctor that went out. He was clearly tired and his coat was stained with blood. The view made you feel sick.

     He went closer to you two, taking off his gloves and wiping the sweat from his forehead.

     “Are you his family…?”

     “I’m his brother” Saeyoung stated right away. You couldn’t help but peeked towards the operating room, but the door automatically closed and you couldn’t see anything.

     “He’s lost a lot of blood, but it wasn’t critical… His ribs are broken and there was a danger they’d pierce his lungs, but fortunately it didn’t happen. His head though… He has a TBI, we’re not sure how serious it is yet, so…” He sighed softly, looking at you. He smiled weakly, probably trying to comfort you. “His life is not in danger right now, but he’s still uncounscious. We moved him to another ward and he’s under constant watch, but for for the next few days we can’t let any guests in, he needs to rest…”

     “We’re his family” Saeyoung suddenly stated. “I understand we can’t see him now, but tomorrow…”

     The doctor sighed. 

     “Only a few minutes for the closest family, but that’s all I can offer.”

     “But her…” 

     “Only the closest family. Excuse me now.” He bowed politely and left, not saying anything else.

     For a few minutes, there was that painful silence. You couldn’t blame Saeyoung for being able to see his brother, but there was nothing more painful right now than the fact that you couldn’t see him. Even if he probably wouldn’t be able to talk, to see you…

     It hurt.

     And the guilt hurt even more. 

     Yet you couldn’t do anything but wait.

     ˙·٠•●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●•٠·˙ 

     The first day, you’ve spent trying to calm down and distract yourself. Saeyoung would never leave your side, offering everything you’d need. It helped you feel better, but at the same time… you felt bad because you were the cause of all that and yet he managed to comfort you. You - the person who was responsible for his beloved brother’s injury. It felt just wrong.

      The second day, Saeyoung went to the hospital. You insisted on going with him and at least waiting in front of the building till he finished the visit, but he told you it’ll be better if you stay at home and take a nap till he comes back and tell you how is Saeran doing.

     Later, you heard that he hasn’t regained his counsciousness yet and Saeyoung could only stay for a few minutes, so he didn’t find out much. He didn’t say anything more.

     The third day was worse than the previous. You didn’t go out of bed for hours and even refused to eat. You knew that Saeran should wake up soon and that with every passing day the chance of him actually waking up is lower. The doctors told you to just wait. But what if there was no point of waiting…?

     The fourth day, Saeyoung went to the hospital again. This time, he let you join him and you waited patiently in the main hall. You were still nervous.

     But the eleventh day, everything inside you broke again.

     The doctors explained that there was something unclear with the results and, just in case, they decided to put him into an induced coma, so that he won’t wake up till they find out what’s going on.

     But it was already ten days and your hope was already slipping away. For Saeyoung it wasn’t any easier. Yet, he was strong, trying to carry on doing his work and taking care of you as much as he could. You were the weak one, the one who couldn’t put everything together and who was a wrecked mess. A mess who was slowly slipping into depression.

     For the time being, no one let you even enter the room. For a few days, even Saeyoung was forbidded from doing so. Only after the doctors made sure the results are fine by now, he could have his few minutes.

     “Saeran, hi…” he said awkwardly, as every single time before. His voice was quiet, as if he was actually afraid of waking the boy up. He still hasn’t woken up. “It’s been… a long time since we’ve seen and…” He sighed deeply. “You can’t imagine how much we miss you… It’s hard for me, but [Name]… she’s… uh, it’s too much for her. So please, Saeran…” His eyes watered and he covered his face with his hands. “Please, wake up…”

     And right then, something changed. A slight motion, but he could sense it. He raised his head in an instant, watching and praying so that was not an illusion.

     A few minutes passed and the next movement - he was sure now - happened for real. His fingers really moved.

     “Saeran…?” he said quietly and his brother’s face twitched. 

     He ran to the door and told a nurse what just happened, then came back to the bed. 

     “Can you hear me…?” he asked, touching gently the boy’s shoulder. 

     He moved. He really did!

     The nurse stormed into the room with a doctor right behind her.

     “Are you his brother?” the doctor asked and Saeyoung nodded. “Good. We will need you to help him, but since he’s waking up now, he needs a few hours to recover. Please, come back tomorrow.”

     “O-okay. But…” he hesitated a bit. “Can I bring someone with me? It’s his girlfriend, I think she could help…”

     “Sure, why not.”

     As soon as Saeyoung told you the news, you started crying. So many tears have you let out the past two weeks, but those weren’t the bad ones. You felt a blissful relief and - at the same time - couldn’t believe it was true. You almost sunk too deep for anyone to reach you, but it was like a sun ray in a dark cave. It was enough to help you find a way out.

     All you wanted to do was to go straight away and see it with your own eyes, but as far as you’ve already gone, you agreed to wait. 

     That night you couldn’t sleep, nervousness eating you from inside, excitement even stronger at this point.

     And, eventually, the morning came. 

     You calmed down your breath, trying to look stable. Saeyoung placed his hand on your shoulder, smiling calmly. The doctor just talked to you, telling you how to behave. And that they still aren’t sure how much the damage did to his psyche - and so, you should be careful and understanding so that he doesn’t feel any pressure.

     “Ready?” Saeyoung smiled at you. You wanted to smile too, but right now you were only a relatively calm, but still mess.

     The door opened and you two went inside.

     The creaking of the door made the boy laying on the bed stir slightly. He was staring at the window when you entered, but now he looked at you, frowning slightly. 

     He was pale, his head still in some bandages. An IV was connected to his arm, just like some other beeping devices you’ve seen in TV a few times.

     He looked at you, then at his brother.

     Saeyoung smiled softly.

     “How are you feeling…?”

     The boy opened his mouth, but for a few seconds he couldn’t let out a single word, his throat dry and voice - hoarse.

     “Sae… young…” he mumbled and the frown deepened. You felt your heart clench at his pained expression, but what happened next, was way worse. 

     You felt the redhead’s hand tighten on your shoulder.

     “Who… is she…?”

     Saeyoung’s eyes widened.

     Was there any good way to describe how you felt? 

     Doubtfully. For some reason, the sudden pain in your stomach was way worse than the one you felt when you weren’t sure if Saeran will even live.

     It was awful. You instantly found yourself wanting to vomit, or to run away, as far as possible.

     What could you do…? 

     You’ve suddenly felt so lost. As if you shouldn’t be here. 

     Saeyoung was here, he could help his brother, but you… There was no place for you. You were a stranger now.

     All those thoughts stormed through your head in a mere few seconds.

     You gulped down your pain.

     “I… I will wait outside” you stuttered and stormed out.

     ˙·٠•●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●•٠·˙


     You raised your eyes. In the mirror, you could see Saeyoung’s reflexion. He was standing behind your still trembling form right after you splashed cold water onto your face.

     “I think you shouldn’t go into ladies’ room” you laughed, but there was nothing funny in your expression.

     “How are you…” Saeyoung started, but he quickly hesitated, realizing that the question is stupid anyway. It was obvious that you felt horrible.

     You sighed softly, lowering your head and staring at the sink.

     “How is… he feeling?” you asked instead, trying to at least control your voice.

     “He’s… good. As good as it’s possible in his state…”

     You nodded slowly.

     “You… will have to take care of him now.” Your voice was quiet and weak.

     Saeyoung grabbed your shoulder, making you turn around and look at him.

     “We will have to.”

     “I don’t think he’d want a stranger to help him…”

     “You’re not a stranger. It’s…” The boy sighed. “The doctor said he needs some time, but his memory… The last thing he remembers is when we were young. He’s lost a few years of memories. But…”


     “…” He hesitated. “He doesn’t remember Mint Eye, nor Rika and V. As long as he doesn’t remember that everything, there’s a chance that… recalling anything related should easily trigger the rest of his memories. So the chance that he will recover is really high…”

     “…and even bigger if I’m by his side. But if he regains that everything, he will…” You shook your head. “He won’t be as happy as he could be if it all never happened” you realized.


     “Maybe it’s better this way…?”

     “You know it’s not true…”

     “I know what you two went through, but the worst started when you had to leave him… Now you can live as if it never happened, don’t you want it…?”

     “If only I could, I would change the past. But the past hasn’t changed. Those things happened and we can’t pretend they did not. Making Saeran believe it would be only a comfortable lie. And if he could choose, I’m sure he’d never want to forget you.”

     You looked down, feeling ashamed now. There was truth in Saeyoung’s words and yet, wanting to get Saeran’s memory back sounded like a pointless hope. It was good enough that he lived, how could you expect anything more…?

     “[Name]. Let’s go back home now, okay?”

     You nodded without a word. The boy grabbed gently your hand and leaded out of the hospital. There was nothing more you could do today.

     ˙·٠•●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●•٠·˙ 


     Saeyoung smiled, patting your back. 

     A few days passed and here you were, back in the hospital. You felt almost like the first day when you could come, except for this time, you were less scared, but kind of more nervous, as you didn’t want to accidentally say anything inappropriate.

     You were told that you ought to be patient. You knew that any sudden news won’t help a person with amnesia. 

     “No, but let’s go” you sighed.

     You were slowly becoming accustomed to the fact that there was still a far way to go. It wasn’t going to be funny. It probably was going to be even worse than after the whole Mint Eye case and if Saeran somehow regained only a part of his memories, there was a possibility that they’d have to go through the whole rehab from the beginning.

     Yet here you were. Ready to do literally anything to help him.

     Saeyoung looked at you once more, then nodded and opened the door.

     “Hello, brother~” he beamed. Saeran - as before - kept staring at the window. When you two entered, he turned his head right away, looking at him. You gulped, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

     “Hi…” He moved his gaze to have a better look on your silhoulette.. “Oh, it’s… you.”

     You raised your head, looking back at him. You knew the face he made, he was a bit confused, but curious. It seemed to be a good moment to at least start a talk…

     “[Name]” you said quietly. “I’m [Name].” You smiled softly. 

     Saeran nodded slowly, but the name sounded unfamiliar to him. 

     “I guess I should remember you…” he said slowly. “The doctors said I’ve lost a bit of… my past… You came here with my brother, so… w-were we close…?”

     Your heart clenched in your chest. The gentle smile he made was as uncomfortable and artificial as your own. Was it possible for you two to feel the same at this moment?

     “A-a bit…” you stuttered. Saeyoung laid his hand on your shoulder in a reassuring manner.

     “She’s our friend” he stated happily.

     “We… do have friends…?”

     “Yeah, a few” Saeyoung shrugged. “A lot happened. You’ll find out soon.”

     An idea suddenly popped in your head.

     “Hey, how about I bring some ice cream?” you offered, smiling as cheerfully as you could. “It’s hot here, wait a few minutes, I will be right back!” You almost managed to ran to the door, when…


     You stopped instantly and turned around. 

     Saeran’s hand was in the air, reaching to you. His face suddenly covered in sweat.

     “W-what, why not…?” You frowned.

     “You… can’t go.”

     “But why…?”

     “It’s dangerous, you will…” He hesitated and let his hand drop onto his lap. You could tell, he was scared and yet, he didn’t know why. “I’m… sorry, I… don’t know, what happened…”

     But you already knew. Something clicked. His couldn’t recall it yet, but he knew that there was something.

     “Okay.” You smiled softly and came closer. “I will stay.”

     He nodded, calming down a bit. Saeyoung observed you two in silence for a moment.

     “I will go then” he grinned. “You’re right, it’s really hot!”

     You stared at him in shock as he just left, not waiting for anyone’s approval.

     That’s how you two were left alone.

     You stirred uncomfortably and sat down on a chair next to the bed. For a moment, you avoided his stare, but eventually gave up as he spoke.

     “You know why I reacted like this, don’t you?”

     Clever boy, you huffed. It was kind of embarrassing to tell him right now, but it couldn’t be helped.

     “You could say that… I’m the reason it happened to you” you admitted, feeling your stomach hurt from the words being spoken. Your nervousness kicked in, once again drowning you in guilt.

     “Is that… so?” He tilted his head to the side. “I can’t believe that. Tell me what happened, please.”

     Well, you never knew Saeran is able to say ‘please’ without either stuttering and blushing or looking like a mad psychopath. He looked surprisingly stable right now.

     “It’s… We were on a walk and it was pretty hot… so I told you that I’d go get some ice cream since… you always liked ice cream” you smirked, recalling the moment. “B-but… I wasn’t too wary and a car would hit me…” you looked up at him “…if it wasn’t you who pushed me away.”

     Saeran stared at you and you could swear that it lasted forever. As soon as the words were said, you instantly calmed down. He knew. Whatever was to happen now, you finally let it out.

     “I’m sorry” He said suddenly and your eyes widened. Was he sorry for…? “I’m sorry that I don’t remember you. You’re important to me, right? I feel so stupid now…”

     The door opened and a nurse stepped in.

     “I’m sorry, but the visits are over for today. We need to take care of the patient. Please, come back tomorrow.”

     You nodded and stood up.

     “Good bye, Saeran…” you said and left. You could still feel his eyes on your back, until the door closed behind you.

     ˙·٠•●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●•٠·˙

     “Are you sure he’s fine now?”

     “Well, we can’t help him anymore” the doctor stated, smiling slightly. “His family is the only one who can help him recover. He still has to take the medicine, so don’t forget to make sure he’s taking them… For some reason, he’s really unwilling to take anything, we almost had to force him to take it… Well, anyway, he will need to be examined once a while and let us know if anything happens. He still may have some headaches and will need to rest a lot, bu if he happens to faint, make sure to put him to bed. And if it happens more often, bring him here. Okay?”

     Saeyoung listened to every word she said, trying to memorize every single remark. He almost couldn’t believe it was over five weeks now. Saeran’s ribs were healed by now, but his brain was, after all, damaged. The memory wouldn’t come back, it only striked once a while, just like when he didn’t want to take the medicine, even if he wasn’t sure why exactly.

     He walked back into the room, watching no one other than you helping Saeran change.

     “Is that really mine…?” The boy asked doubtfully, staring at his leather jacket.

     You smirked, a bit amused by his frown.

     “I guess you didn’t like it, but you don’t have anything else and it’s already getting cold outside, so you have no choice.”

     “It doesn’t even match my hair…”

     “It would if you dyed it back to white.”

     “…I had white hair?”

     “Didn’t you notice? I cut them a few days ago as it were too long. Didn’t you see it was white?”

     “Didn’t observe you.”

     “Guessed so…”

     “W-wait, w-what is it?” he stuttered, looking at the other thing in your hand. 

     You raised the thing, staring at it for a while.

     “It must have been tangled with the jacket. I figured you wouldn’t want to wear it now, brought it by accident.”

     “It’s a fucking collar!”

     “Well, you used to wear it before.”

     “Am I a dog or something…?”

     “Wouldn’t complain if you were.”

     “N-nasty” he mumbled, looking away.

     You stared at him for a moment.

     “Are you sure you don’t want to put it on? It could… remind you of something…”

     “I don’t want to.”

     “Okay. I will wear it then.”


     You smirked playfully, wrapping the choker around your neck and connecting the ends. It was a bit loose, falling almost to your collarbones, as the previous owner was obviously better built at this point.

     Saeran stared at you, his cheeks tainting light pink as you smiled widely.

     “Does it suit me?”

     “… Take it off.”

     You pouted and did as said, throwing the choker to your bag so that it wouldn’t get lost.

     “I think it looked meowous on you, [Name]” Saeyoung said, patting your back.

     “Meow your own business, Saeyoung” you mumbled, a bit embarrassed now.

     “Ya ready, brother~?”

     Saeran nodded.

     “Let’s go.”

     Saeyoung’s place was - for Saeran - something completely unfamiliar. No memories appeared when you three entered the house, everything seemed to be new. You really hoped he’d at least instinctively recall where which room is, but it didn’t happen, you had to explain everything from the beginning.

     “That’s my room…?” he asked.

     You smiled sheepishly. It used to be your room too.

     “Yeah. Do you like it?”

     “Not bad, I guess.”

     “It… changed a bit after the accident, so… I guess you could really not recall it as it is now.” Were you trying to comfort him? Or were you trying to comfort yourself…?

     “Why was it different?”


     “Hey, the dinner is ready!” Saeyoung’s voice reached you and you turned around, almost running to the kitchen. All to not have to explain it.

     You mentally slapped yourself. It was getting harder and harder to pretend that you two were only friends. It’s been almost two weeks since he met you for the ‘first time’. It was visible that he quickly became more comfortable in your presence and it wasn’t even that difficult to act like this. But…

     You didn’t want to lie to him. Saeyoungs, as well, was aware that you can’t push it like this forever. 

     But… what if he actually rejected you? Saying him that you were his girlfriend was almost like a confession. What if he didn’t even like you now…? Without all his memories, the bond between you two didn’t exist. Right now, he knew only as much as he found out through those two weeks. Nothing more.

     He didn’t feel anything towards you. It’s possible that he wouldn’t even simply believe that you two used to be so close.

     Just like everyone said - you had to wait.

     It was the third day. Saeran woke up early with a headache. Sleeping in the room next to his, you could hear him wriggling in the bedsheets. The noise woke you up and you stood up dizzily. You didn’t sleep well lately and so, being woken up after mere few hours of bad dreams wasn’t the best way to make you fully counscious.

     You knocked to his door.

     “Saeran, are you okay…?”

     A muffled whine raeched your ears and you decided to go in.

     He was curled in the sheets, covered in sweat. He wasn’t sleeping, but his body shook as his hands reached his ears, covering them as if he was trying to avoid some annoying noise.

     “Saeran…?” You came closer carefully, not wanting to startle him. “Saeran, what’s wrong…?”

     He turned his head, looking at you. He was panting heavily and you could see tears in his eyes.

     “Your head… hurts again?” you asked and he nodded. “Wait a moment, I will bring the pills.”

     You rushed to the kitchen and grabbed the medicine the doctor gave you. Along with a cup of water, you came back to Saeran’s room.

     He was sitting now, arms wrapped around his legs and face buried in his knees.

     You sat on the edge of the bed.

     “I brought the pills. How are you feeling?”   

     He shrugged, not saying anything. You only sighed.

     “The doctor said you need to take them, it’s not only about the headache, so…”

     “I won’t take them.”

     “Huh…?” You frowned. “Saeran…”

     “Get out.”

     Your eyes widened slightly, but you didn’t move.

     “Saeran, you need to…”

     “I said get out!” he glared at you. “I won’t take any pills so get the fuck out of my sight.”

     You flinched, but weren’t going to give up. 

     “At least drink some water, you’ll feel bet-”

     “Are you dumb or something?!” 

     You shivered at the tone of his voice. It was unpleasant. You knew this tone very well. For the past few months you really thought you’d never get to hear it again…

     “Saeran, please, calm down…”

     “Stop fucking saying my name!” You didn’t move. You were paralyzed by fear. Pills still in your hand, the cup in the other. The water quivered as your body trembled suddenly. “I don’t want to hear it… It’s terrible…”

     “What…?” You were utterly confused.

     “It sounds almost like his… It’s all his fault”

     Your eyes widened.

     “Y-you mean S-Saeyoung…?”


     You didn’t even see it coming. Your vision went black for a few seconds as a sudden impact threw you back. The cup broke on the floor next to you as you dropped it, but it was the least important thing right now. 

     You landed on the floor and for a few seconds were too stunned to even know what happened.

     And when you realized that Saeran just hit you, you looked up at him. He stood up and was going towards you. You instantly curled up on the floor, burying your face in your hands. As much as you wanted to stay calm, you couldn’t help but panicked. You knew way too well how bad it may end…

     You completely didn’t know what to do though. Your cheek was throbbing in pain.  You closed your eyes tightly, preparing yourself for anything that would come next.


     He was standing in front of you. You could sense it, he was so close. You could almost hear his rapid breath, but he didn’t say a word.

     Instead, after a moment, he backed away. You curiously uncovered your eyes.

     He looked so scared now…

     “Why… did I do this…?” he asked, his eyes watering up. He tripped over the edge of the bed and fell onto the mattress. The surrounding him aura changed in a second. There was no rage anymore, no hate. Only fear. “I can’t… I can’t recall this but… W-what’s wrong with me…” He hid his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling.

     You carefully stood up, unsure what to do. Everything told you to go and comfort him. But you couldn’t ignore the fact that he could snap again any moment… 

     Damn, why isn’t Saeyoung here? He would for sure know what to do…

     You came closer, recalling all the things you had to bear with during his previous rehab. You knew not to touch him unless he lets you, but at the same time, you couldn’t let him feel alone. What’s the most important, you had to be careful. Not only for him, but for yourself

     “Don’t… come closer” he whispered, obviously sensing your presence. 

     “Why not…?”

     “I will… hurt you.”

     “Do you want to hurt me…?”

     “No…” His voice creaked.

     “So just don’t do this.” You carefully sat next to him and wiped the blood from your cheek.

     “I don’t understand… He’s my brother, he’s always been with me… Why do I hate him now…?”

     You sighed quietly.

     “A lot of… bad things happened. I guess that… until you recall everything, you may feel this way…”

     “Did he… leave me? Please, tell me what happened, I need to know…”

     He looked at you with teary eyes. You’ve never heard so much despair in his voice. And you felt that you shouldn’t tell him it yet, which meant that you were torn apart… and it hurt. You didn’t know what to do.

     “I don’t think I’m the right person to tell you about this…”

     “But you’re the only person I trust now… I’m…” His eyes widened, as he seemed to suddenly realize what he did just mere moments ago. “I-I’m sorry, your face…”

     “D-does it look that bad?” you panicked a bit, looking around to find a mirror. 


     You sighed, smiling softly at his confused frown.

     “Hey, I literally owe you my life. If some wounds will be a result of helping you out, it’s fine by me.”

     And he smiled back. You almost sighed with relief. The smile was slight and weak, but calm. You could feel your heart warm up at this sight. It was okay now. 

     “You said…” He suddenly seemed to recall something. “When it happened, you said we were on a walk… Did you mean that…” He cleared his throat, looking away awkwardly “…that we were on a date…?”

     Your face instantly heatened up. But there was no point in hiding it anymore.


     “…” He shyly looked at you again. “S-so we… were t-that close…”


     “It must have been terrible for you…” he said quietly, looking down. “Sorry for not realizing it sooner…”

     You shrugged slightly.

     “It’s not your fault…”

     “You think?” He closed his eyes tiredly. “It’s so frustrating…”

     You suddenly glanced at the window. It was already morning.

     “We should go back to sleep. Espacially you. Does your head still hurt?”

     He shook his head.

     “No, it’s okay now.” He hesitated a bit, his eyes never looking away from yours. “You’re right. We should go back to sleep.”

     You wanted to stand up, but he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you down onto the mattress. 


     “Good night” he mumbled, already closing his eyes.

     “W-wait, but…”

     “What? Can’t I even sleep with my girlfriend?” His eyebrow wiggled and you couldn’t help but blush madly. Was he even serious now…?


     “Sleep well, princess.”

     Your eyes widened and heart beat faster.


     You smiled softly.

     “Sleep well, my edgeboy.”

     “… How the fuck did you just call me…?”

    ˙·٠•●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●•٠·˙

I’ve decided to cut it here. It’s already long as hell and I’m not even sure how many of you reached the damn end;; I realized that anything that would happen later, wouldn’t be as important as what I’ve already described and it would kind of kill the tension. 

And uh… Please, any feedback will be appreciated. It was the longest english thing I’ve ever written so I really need to know what should I work on.

I figured that angst isn’t the best birthday gift but we all love angst don’t we?

Hanzo will deny it vociferously, but he has a nigh crippling sweet tooth. In public, he demurs every sugary, fattening thing offered to him. Unhealthy, he says. Undignified, he thinks. He’s kept the secret since childhood.

But when no one’s watching, well, that’s a bit of a different story. Packages of chocolates seem to run dry a little sooner than normal, ice cream develops a strange habit of disappearing around the edges of the carton, even treats hidden at the back of the cabinets or disguised in boxes of protein powder seem to still fall victim. The only person unaffected seems to be McCree, because he snacks exclusively on beef jerky and the salty-spicy-sweet rellerindos.

Little mouse, Reinhardt calls it darkly. A little sugar fiend mouse sneaking in and stealing something sacred. When Winston’s Reese’s cups go missing wholesale, he starts an investigation, pulling security footage. There aren’t any cameras in the mess, but he’s certain he can reconstruct the comings and going of their thief.

There’s nothing damning, which honestly shouldn’t be a surprise. McCree says as much, as even their greenhorns are learning to intuit the lines of sight of the cameras and move between them. Athena had even been registering her disapproval. But the cowboy has a plan.

The brightly colored American hard candies had fallen out of fashion with the rest of the world years ago because the dyes had been suspected of causing ill health. In America, however, they remained with their formulas unchanged. After all, you can always tell an American, but you can’t tell him much.

The dyes, with their vivid, unnatural brightness, had a side effect that would be handy for their current cause. They dyed the mouth and teeth of anyone who ate them for hours afterwards, even under the most rigorous oral hygiene routine. The plan went: hide a package in the back of the spice cabinet, then sit back and wait for someone with neon teeth. Easy as pie.

Even McCree wouldn’t have anticipated such quick results. He’s procrastinating on an after action report in his bunk when Hanzo comes in.

“Howdy, darlin’,“ McCree says absently.

“Good afternoon,” Hanzo says. 

“How’d the sims go?”

Hanzo grunts. Middling, then. Either they need to change things up or get on the newjacks’ case about taking training seriously again. Probably both.

Hanzo drops onto the bed beside him, clearly angling to catch a quick cat nap curled up close. Hanzo’s sleeping habits are worse than Hana’s, McCree swears, and little Cottontail’s are bad.

McCree looks down at him, intending to tease him about needing a nap when he was out half the night, when he catches sight of Hanzo’s mouth.

It’s blue.

McCree can’t help the laughter that bubbles up. Hanzo, of all people, is the mouse. Hanzo scowls up at him.

“What?” he snaps. McCree can’t catch his breath. Hanzo looks incensed at being laughed at, and that just makes it funnier.

“What?” he snaps again, poking McCree in the side.

“Mirror, babe,” McCree wheezes. Hanzo gets up and stalks over to the bathroom, and McCree watches his whole posture shift into panic when he sees himself. He immediately tries to scrub his mouth, but he mostly just manages to make his fingers blue too.

“Didn’t know ya liked raspberry flavor, sweetness.”

Ever Hopeful. (Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot.)

Summary: Y/N hopes to come home to her lovely boyfriend Bucky after a mission gone wrong, but get quite the surprise.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Warnings: Um…. injured and sort of depressed reader? Is that a warning?

Word Count: 906.

A/N: This one kind of got away from me…..

(Not my gif)

“Bucky?” Y/N called out.

No reply.

Y/N sighed and shut the door, setting her bag on the small table beside it.

The mission she was assigned on wasn’t too bad, but it was a long four week mission and had resulted in her breaking her left wrist.

She had called Bucky from the hospital, explaining to him what happened and informing him that she would be home a bit later than usual. Y/N was hoping that he would be waiting at the door for her, but so far, he was no where to be seen.

Keep reading

Requested #6- Taehyung

“You’re kidding right?” You asked seriously. A shocked expression crossed your features as your female friend held up the black and green set that could make you feel even more vulnerable than being naked.

“No! I think you should get it” Y/F/N said, laughing at your flustered state. “Maybe Taehyung would appreciate it” she wiggled her eyebrows at you. You sighed loudly.

“You’re kidding me right? I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate me walking around in scantily clad…can I even call those clothes?” You sighed, crossing your arms. “Trust me, he wouldn’t want to see me in that.”

Y/F/N pursed her lips at you, seemingly in deep concentration. Suddenly her eyes wandered to the rack behind you and she gasped.

“This is the one!” She squealed. It was even more revealing the other one she showed you earlier. Transparent lace and a F/C corset. “He won’t be able to resist!”

“You think so…” You trailed off.

You stealthily snuck through the front door, careful t avoid any meetings. You had no intention of telling him where you were, or what you were doing, and why you had the interesting colored bag.

“Just get to the closet” you mumbled to yourself.

“What about the closet??” You heard.

Oh Shit.

You turned around and saw Taehyung walking out of the kitchen. “How was shopping?” He asked, leaning against the wall frame.

“It was fine!” You said quickly, laughing nervously.

“What did you buy?” He asked, trying to peek into the interesting colored shopping bag. You jumped back and held the bag behind your back. “Hey! Let me see” he partially whined.

“It’s boring, you really don’t want to see” you shook your head.

“It can’t be that bad” he rolled his eyes at you. Taking the bag from your hand, he looked inside. You could only stare in horror as he picked up the thing article of clothing with your finger tips. He looked up to meet your eyes.

“Hehe surprise?” You trailed off. “Y/F/N made me get it…she thought you’d like it or something” you laughed, shaking your head. “That’s crazy,right?” You chuckled again, expecting him to laugh. His gaze remained stale on you, his teeth clenched.

“Uh…right?? Tae?”

“I’m sorry…all I can think of is you wearing this…nothing but this” he spoke slowly, allowing the outfit to fall back into its bag. “ I bet you’d look so adorable in it…but at the same time so teasing” his voice dropped a few octaves.

“…oh…is that so” you trailed off, looking everywhere but at him.

“I want to see you in this…” He grumbled. “I really want to see you in this”

“Is that so??” You squeaked.

“Mhm” he smirked.

You stared at the mirror, your eyes bugging put of your head. These weren’t clothes! You felt more naked than being actually naked.

Like ripping off a bandage, Y/N.

You walked out of the bathroom, peeking around the corner to see Taehyung lounged on the couch. Waiting for you. He must have heard you walking because he looked up. You were still pretty much hiding.

“Well?” He grew impatient.

What’s the worse that could happen just go for it.

You revealed the final result of your little (literally) outfit. Taehyung remains emotionless, at least to you he did. You weren’t even aware than he was going through every single way to fuck you in that one outfit. His eyes raked up your body from the transparent lace up corset to the innocent look you wore whilst he studied you. Suddenly he shot up from his seated position, stomping up to you. His hands laced themselves into your hair as he pulled you into a kiss.
He allowed his tongue to roam your mouth, his breath heaving steadily.

“Fuck, you look perfect” he sighed. Taehyung began trailing kisses down neck, sucking harshly and then gliding his tongue over the skin. “I could rip this off of you, and take you right here” he smirked, walking your backward to your bedroom. Suddenly you found yourself on your back, glancing up at Taehyung.

“I could rip this off…but I have a better idea”

The pads of his fingers instantly went to your already soaked core. Through the fabric, he pressed his thumb against you and slid down, prompting a gasp to escape your lips. The friction from the fabric against you plus the heat of his fingers was enough to make you a mess.

“Can I taste you?” He asked darkly, his lips finding yours shortly. “I want to feel you when you come undone for me? I want you to see the pleasure I’m about to give you. Just a taste of that pretty pussy…” He bit his lip.

You choked on another moan as his fingers pressed harder. “So wet for me….Fuck what are you doing to me.”

He adjusted himself so he was at eye level with your throbbing center. Looking up at you with a sly wink, his lips barely feathered over your heat through the fabric. He placed small kisses on your center, then darted his tongue out to create an even greater friction between the fabric.

“T-tae"you squeaked.

You heard him chuckle lowly before lifting his head.

"I can make you scream louder than that” he bit his lip at your shaking and panting. He grabbed the waste bad of your brand new (now soiled) panties and yanked down, only to like a harsh stripe up and between your folds. Suddenly, your phone buzzed beside you, but that didn’t stop him.

“Answer it” he growled between his movements.

“Hello?” You answered as normally as you could. Suddenly, you felt a harsh suck at your clit.

“Hey!” Y/F/N chirped. “You make it home safe??"You heard her ask.

"Uh…yeah!” You squeaked. “Every thing is f-fine” you glared down at Tae, who just chuckled.

“So did Taehyung seen your little number?” She asked. Your thoughts were clouded when Taehyung began pumping his long slender fingers in and out of you.

You tried to disguise your screams with coughs as you answered her.

“Oh, he saw it…He definitely saw it” you replied. “Hey, Y/F/N I gotta go! Just realized I left the stove on"you said then hung up quickly.

You glared down at Taehyung, who was still in the midst of torturing you.

"You. Are. So. Wrong for that” you breathed heavily. Suddenly, he took his off of you and began trailing his lips upwards to meet yours. His fingers never stopped thrusting. His thumb began rubbing wide circles.

Suddenly his movements slowed down only slightly. His lips moved harshly against yours.

“I Believe not Y/N…it hasn’t even started yet”

(…..I’m sorry lol)

Partners In Love [Kacchako]

Originally posted by alexbenedetto

A/N: AHHh. I don’t even know what happened here. THIS IS NOT A PROMPT, I HAVE SINNED. But I was browsing through Kacchako tag and … ? I still love this so much so I couldn’t help myself. This fic was written before I even knew it. 

Summary: Uraraka isn’t sure what to think of Bakugou and herself yet. They have gotten close, like, they do all sorts of things together but are not dating yet. Getting herself tickled to death by him is probably the most relationshippiest thing she gets involved in so far, and she isn’t so sure if she should be happy about that?

Word Count: 2040

“What? You and Bakugou? Since when?” Uraraka blushed as she sat in between her friends Iida and Deku, telling a short summary of the story of how she had started to hang out with Bakugou.

“U-um well. It started with that he wanted me to help him train?” she muttered shyly, and Deku and Iida exchanged glances.

“Well yeah, I was to send him rocks and stuff a-and he’d explode them all to train his accuracy and all!” Uraraka giggled like a high school girl in love. Which she actually was.

“Right. And then you two became a thing?” Mr. Logic brains Iida stated, and Uraraka blushed and nodded nervously. That sounded… dumb actually.

“Well from one thing came the other and.. yes, basically. But we haven’t yet –” 

“Way to goooo Uraraka! Kacchan is probably the toughest guy ever, well done!” Deku blurted out before she could finish, and Uraraka squeaked when he poked her playfully. 

“Oh! Hehe sorry, you’re ticklish?” Deku asked her sweetly, and he poked her again. Uraraka giggled and nodded, her hand covering her mouth to muffle her squeaks when Iida joined in randomly and she was being poked from both sides.

“Y-yes! St-stohohop!” Uraraka squeaked like a baby animal, and both guys laughed.

“Hehe you’re really ticklish. Don’t let Kacchan find out,” Deku said with a casual smile, and Uraraka blushed even more.

“W-why…?” Deku only had this knowing expression on his face that showed so many things. Uraraka could read childhood traumas, pain, embarrassment and everything in it, and before she could keep asking Bakugou already showed up in the cafetaria.

“Ocha, let’s train.” He already turned around again and left before her. Uraraka shrinked nervously when she felt Deku and Iida’s eyes on her.

Ocha?” Deku asked with a giggle.

“Let’s train? Is that new code language?” Iida asked, pushing his glasses further onto his face as if he was really thinking seriously about this.

“You guys! I’m leaving!” She quickly grabbed her bag and followed after her… boyfriend? Not quite yet. Friend? Potential lover? When was dating official? They hadn’t kissed yet. Only held hands… He held her shoulder once when she sat next to him, and he sometimes patted her head. So far the touchy bit. 

Keep reading


Note: Beware of blood, biting, and roughness!」

“You sure ‘bout this, darlin’?”

“It’s the only way. We need to complete this mission at full strength if we’re going to get anywhere.”

Both you and McCree were assigned to locate and “erase” a particular target that had been causing strife on the city you were stationed in. You, a certified and capable fighter, did well with fighting demons, but not exactly vampires. Though they were the same race, McCree found vampires to not only be a guilty pleasure to kill, but justice in the sense he’d terminate those that would destroy with no reasoning. You choose not to question his reasoning — if that’s what you wanted to call it — and found that for this to work, you needed to be at even levels.

Unfortunately, it added insult to injury that the cowboy informed you at the last minute that he wasn’t at peak performance.

Why? What was expected; he hadn’t fed in some time. You rolled your eyes recollecting your conversation prior to this, crossing your arms. Time and time again Ana had reprimanded him on feeding, but he insisted that he had “other” ways to fuel himself. Or so he proclaimed. Regardless, you didn’t want to return to base with a failure on your shoulders, so you decided what would be easiest.

“If we get this out of the way, everything will be good. We need to meet the objective. I’ll be fine.” You assured, nodding your head. “Let’s do this now before it gets too late.” You couldn’t admit that it would be your first time doing something like this, but you were on a time limit, and you would be damned if you had to be the one to report to the Captain about your combined negligence. “You need to feed, and I’m willing if it’ll get results.”

“One more time. You sure?” He removed the cigar from his mouth, flicking it away and onto the ground. The cowboy looked directly at you as he stepped onto the discarded cigar, waiting for an honest answer. Averting your eyes, you could feel the smirk that followed once he asked.

“Yes, just hurry up-“

In movement faster than your eyes could process, you found yourself thrown harshly against the cold wall behind your person. His face was dangerously close to yours, his hat obscuring his umber eyes, which you couldn’t tell if for better or worse. He pressed his leg between both of yours, firmly gripping your right wrist next to your head in an attempt to limit further movement from you. The cowboy listened to your whimpers, momentarily unmoving, though a soft chuckle came from him which caused you to glare at him.

This irked you, but you couldn’t help but become distracted as his lips were barely centimeters from yours. ‘Feeding’, you reminded yourself, ‘he’s only feeding. Don’t lose sight of what’s important’. Your breathing sped up as his grip around your wrist tightened, so much so that you grimaced. You opened your mouth to speak out, but in the same breath, a loud moan escaped you. You felt his tongue press against your neck, his hot breaths hovering above your skin and making you tremble. Instinctively you made it your interest to separate yourself from him, but because he had such a firm grip on you, it was wasted energy.

Your free hand met his chest as he growled into your ear, your face flushing a vibrant red. “J-Jesse, calm d-“ You couldn’t help but release yet another soft moan as his hot tongue trailed along your collarbone and back to the center of your neck. He pulled away for just a moment, and you finally met his stare in a daze. His once umber eyes were now a concentrated vermillion, and you knew he was aching to taste you. You did your best to keep your calm, but he could sense your uncertainty despite your initial offer.

“It’ll be quick, [Y/N], I promise,” his deep drawl filled your ears as he pressed his body to yours again. Your body was reacting in such a way you found shameful, the roughness of him handling you making you whine. All you could do was lift your head in anticipation as he returned to licking a particular spot on your neck. “Don’t worry, doll…” He cooed, once again your heartbeat quickening as he left wet markings on you. Your face was so hot, and you didn’t know how much of this you could take. At the same time, you couldn’t tell if this was routine for him or if he was simply teasing you. 

Those thoughts left your mind as you suddenly felt his free hand wrap around your waist and pull you even closer. 

Hastily he bit into you, your immediate reaction to cry out in pain and to escape his grip. McCree moaned biting into you, his hips pressing further against your lower body. He was still for the most part, the only times he would move were to keep you in place, and with enough time the energy dwindled from you. While the initial pain was intense, it would slowly fade the longer he fed and your body becoming accustomed. You listened to your partner gulp from you, it sending shivers down you body as you struggled to remain standing. “J-J-“ His fangs remained inside you, and before long you felt yourself giving way.

Jesse wouldn’t let you fall completely, as he loosened his grip on your wrist and fell down to the floor with you, all the while still attached to your neck. The outlaw held a firm grip onto your hand as he entwined his fingers with yours for support. He breathed desperately through his nose and kept you close as he drank. Your vision became blurry, and you no longer felt as though you could even move your body, despite your wanting to fight against it. You wanted to speak — you really did — but your body wouldn’t allow it. Your cheeks stained red, you let him continue, but just as your mind became more clouded his fangs exited your neck.

He exhaled, droplets of your blood trickling down from his lips and into his beard as he carefully took hold of you. You studied how his fangs – that were now painted with crimson – flashed at you. 

“Thank you, [Y/N]. I feel mighty fine,” His eyes reverted to their natural color as you met his gaze in a blurry stare. “I’m sorry… Your blood is just-“ Jesse narrowed his eyes, making sure you weren’t in too much pain. “I ain’t ever had blood like that before.” He chuckled darkly. “I think I mighta ate a bit too much. ’m sorry, sweetheart.” Thankfully you felt yourself more drowsy than anything, and winced at the throbbing sensation that lingered on the side of your neck. “You always lookin’ out fer me, I promise t’ pay ya back.”

You couldn’t respond to his statement – his cheekiness – and instead rested your head against his chest. He chuckled, watching as an exhausted you weakly batted your lashes before your mind became completely shrouded in darkness.

Poldark S3 Was A Huge Disappointment For Me and It All Boils Down To One Root Cause.

I had originally begun a draft of this post that devolved into everything that I cannot stand about how the show chose to move the character of Demelza into a different direction. That part of the post got really, really, really, really long.

Instead of sharing that really, really, really, really long post, I decided to write a new one. It’s also Sunday and the final episode of season 3 hasn’t aired yet as I begin this, but I need to write because for the past 10 weeks, I’ve been doing homework on Sunday mornings. I have no homework to type up because the summer term is finished. I find myself at a loss, so I began this post.

But I digress. You’ll find that I’m really good at that.

This is a really, really, really, really long post about the one reason why Season 3 was a disappointment to me. I’ve been able to distill my disappointment down to one root cause.

If you listen to the @poldarkpodcast​, you know that I regularly submit my opinions on the episodes that just aired. You probably also know that I’m not fond of the direction in which they took Demelza this season.

Actually “not fond” is putting it mildly.

I HATE what they did to her character. I hate, hate, hate it! The Powers That Be decided that Demelza wasn’t “strong” enough or “feisty” enough in the novels, so they had to make her more modern to appeal to modern audiences.

However, in doing so, they basically took a shit all over Winston Graham’s work and a character that was based on his own wife. They’ve taken the product of someone who is a very gifted storyteller and dumbed it down so much, I start to feel stabby.  

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Universal healthcare in the US is possible. We already have proof
Bernie Sanders and Kamala Harris’s universal healthcare bill is a step towards a humane and cost-effective system. Naysayers are denying reality, writes emergency medicine physician Farzon A Nahvi.
By Farzon A Nahvi

Speaking to opponents of universal healthcare in the US today is much like speaking to a moon-landing denier or any other conspiracy theorist – they insist on arguing impossibility in the face of proven reality.

As Bernie Sanders, Kamala Harris and 15 other senators release details of their universal healthcare bill – one that guarantees access to healthcare for all Americans while simultaneously creating cost savings – there will be many healthcare conspiracists claiming that such a plan is infeasible. So as we consider these arguments in the coming weeks, we must always be prepared to make sure they pass the “look!” test.

That is, when someone argues that something cannot be done, we needn’t argue. Rather, we simply need to point and say: “Look!”

Someone doesn’t believe we landed on the moon? “But look! There’s an American flag up there!” Someone doesn’t believe we can insure every single American while simultaneously reining in the exorbitant costs of our healthcare system? “But look! Every other developed country in the world is already doing it!”

These medical conspiracists claim that such a system would be impractical, overly expensive, or provide inferior care. But to make these claims in the face of obvious proof is laughable.

If Canada is able to provide coverage for each of its citizens from birth to death, with no out-of-pocket-costs to any of them, all the while providing high-quality care with excellent patient outcomes at half the cost of our system, it is unacceptable to say that we somehow cannot.

Real people living in other countries are currently enjoying these systems. They can change jobs without fear of losing access to their diabetes medications. They can go jogging without worry that one slip and broken bone would send their families into bankruptcy. They can go to their doctor never questioning that, at the end of the day, she has any incentive to do anything but make them better.

So how could one be so bold as to deny this reality?

The truth is that nobody is content with our current healthcare system. We do poorly when it comes to access to care and equity, administrative efficiency and cost containment, as well as basic health outcomes.

We pay more than double what other countries do, and get worse results. Our life expectancies are shorter than any other developed nation. Children die in the US unlike in any other modern society. Medical bills are the leading cause of bankruptcy in the US. Our overspending in healthcare directly limits what we can do with defence, education and infrastructure.

Yet when it comes to talk of change, people become skittish. Doctors become scared that change would mean lower incomes. Patients fear longer wait times and loss of access to services.

The fear of losing the small benefits we currently enjoy is prohibiting us from enjoying far greater ones at half the cost. It’s as if we’re so scared of losing our crumbs that we are ignoring the entire loaf sitting within reach.

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I was sixteen years old the first time I walked into The Margaret Sanger Center in lower Manhattan. The home pregnancy test that I had purchased a few nights before was wrapped in a tissue and tucked securely in my purse. It said that I was pregnant.

I don’t remember how many times my boyfriend and I had sex before that day, but it wasn’t many. He was clumsy with condoms, said he hated them, and promised to be careful. I did some research and we agreed that we would only have sex when it was safest, right before or right after my period, although our sixteen year old libidos dictated otherwise more than once.

I was alone and terrified while I waited for the results of my tests. The nurse was kind but clinical and didn’t show much interest in me, which only made things worse. I just wanted reassurance from someone, anyone, that my world wasn’t coming to an end. I was ushered into a private office and instructed to have a seat. The wait was interminable. The posters of uteruses were terrifying. My eyes were brimming with hot tears. Suddenly, I wished I had told my mother.

Her name was Angel and fittingly so. She confirmed that I was indeed eight weeks pregnant, and when I audibly gasped at the news, came around the desk, took both of my hands into hers, and promised me that, in fact, the world was not coming to an end, and she would be there to see to it. She didn’t judge, didn’t condescend, didn’t scold. What she did was educate me, guide me, and offer me options. Then she told me to go home and think about what I wanted to do and get back to her. She promised that when I called she would answer, and she did.

I will be forever grateful to Angel and all of the Angels at Planned Parenthood for empowering me as a young girl to make informed choices about my body and my sex life without requiring parental permission or asking for any kind of payment. I’ve sent friends there for cancer screenings, STD testing, HIV testing, pregnancy testing, Plan B, and general counseling, friends who were too scared or didn’t have the money to go anywhere else.

This morning I stood with my current boyfriend and a few thousand other people in Washington Square Park to continue to push back on this administration’s plan to defund an institution that is essential to quality healthcare in this country. We urge you to fight with us. For that terrified sixteen year old, for women of limited means, for women of color, for trans women, and for women everywhere. Fight with your phones, your wallets, your votes and your voices. One of us can be pushed aside. Two of us can be ignored. But together we are a movement. And we are unstoppable.

avenire  asked:

I'll ask you one! How would react Yoosung and Seven if their S/O had a chronic illness and depression? (I actually have those so I have to dream lol)

Author’s N/A: I hope you’re doing fine irl, and thanks for the ask! 


  • He may be new in his job as a veterinarian but he damn knows a pet’s health and behavior well.
  • Because he studied biology for a while before his major, he can tell a person’s health and behavior with just one freaking look in his good eye.
  • And obviously, he quickly learns that there’s something biologically strange about his S/O.
  • Those wheezy noises in their breathing did not look normal at all.
  • He did not buy their words as those wheezing are merely panting from a long jogging session. They don’t even like running!
  • Not to mention, they start wearing long sleeves shirt, even in the middle of intense heat. That is also not normal unless you want to be fried to ashes then be his guest.
  • Yet he keeps his mouth shut for he wants to hear it from themselves. Please trust this sweet bean.
  • But nope, that day never came, and he’s left hanging.
  • As days turns to weeks, he sees their condition worsened to the point of them nearly dying if not for him being present at the time and acting fast to prolong their life before getting them to the nearest hospital.
  • Superman Yoosung speedy driving his car while bitch-talking at drivers.
  • “Out of my way, you carefree buffoons or I will flatten those damn expensive tires!”
  • Practically clings to them for dear life as the doctor and nurses rush them to the ER room until the nurses literally pull them apart and scolds him to get his shit together.
  • As Yoosung waits anxiously in the ER, he has a vague clue to his S/O’s condition: chronic illness and, maybe depression?
  • This poor pup does not want his hunch to be on point, but the truth is shoved to his face when the doctor has told him of their condition.
  • He’s right, and all he could is do nothing but wait in this side while praying for their safety and for them to be alive so he can also give them a piece of his mind. Poor helpless Yoosung.
  • This isn’t not fair at all, did they not trust him? Is he really that useless for them to rely on him despite all what he’s proved to them so far?
  • This sunshine ain’t sobbing in a corner while plotting murder against S/O’s doctors if they fail to cure them.
  • When the doctor comes out to tell him the good news, he just faints. It’s too much!
  • When he did wake up, he practically runs in the speed of light but didn’t enter without tripping on the slippery marble floor, and landing on the floor face first. Wait, is that a pair of his sneakers in S/O’s face?
  • And here behold S/O covered in bandages and more bandages. Yoosung starts to get sick of seeing bandages at this point.
  • Literally cries a puddle of tears in their white patient shirt, head-butt their already bandaged head, hugging them to death, and Yoosung makes them promise a thousand times, not to ever hide this from him again.  
  • As touching as this exact moment is, the doctor considers taking this puffy-eyed kid to the psychiatrist as well. There are, after all, a couple in need of mental supervision. But this doctor fails to do so because he values his life more, thank you very much!
  • From then on, Yoosung makes the term Stalker into a whole new meaning with a steadily recovering S/O.  


  • If Yoosung has it bad, trust me…Saeyoung takes it 9000 times far worse. Much more than the selfies that Zen takes once per 20 seconds.
  • He might have find out too slow because S/O has made it seem like having a common sickness and too fast because of a certain device he created.
  • Although he trolls everyone even S/O nearly 24/7, this genius hacker has a heart made of gold hidden well in binary codes.
  • Right after the cat robot he made, he creates not only a GPS device which is now installed in S/O’s phone but a health detector attached to their watch which tells him their heartbeat, breathing, and other stuff. This is a secret only between him and you, don’t tell S/O.
  • Wait…why did their heart beat more than 100 times per minute? Why did their breathing rate were more than 25 times per minute? How the hell were their RBC count lesser than 5 million? Panicking 707 is not a good sign.
  • Time waits for no one so this dude has been researching about his S/O’s condition, thus leaving a pile of work behind and worse, a furious Vanderwood behind him with a taser. Hey, turn around 707 before your life ends here and now.
  • He’s provided with more information and this dude feared for the worst when the virtual world came up with a solid result: Chronic illness and depression. He ain’t happy with it.
  • Obviously did not bother S/O for they need space and he needs a solid proof at the time but he will not stand by and let them die from their condition.
  • Unlike Yoosung, he will not beat around the bush and say it straight to their face to the point they get into an argument. Hacker God wins tho.
  • And like Yoosung, he will bitch-talk at every driver in his way. However, this troll ain’t afraid to burn anyone with a flamethrower. Why do you harbor such weapons, dude?!
  • Paces around the waiting room like a madman. His loud pacing has driven several friends/relatives of other patients mad.
  • He still doesn’t chill and stay put. His rl world is literally crumbling as he waits in uncertainty.
  • The results are out, and the doctor tries to submit S/O into the hospital, but this angry bird 707 will not have any of his crap.
  • So he’s left with medication prescriptions and instructions which he seriously follows. Glares at the doctor once he sees the side-effects of certain medicines. Forgetfulness, really?! If S/O forgets him, he will get this man fired.
  • Follows S/O everywhere 24/7 even in their sleep, he’s literally attached to them like a leech.
  • “Doctor 707 needs you to drink this and this, also this one.” S/O gives him the look, are you for real? You don’t drink them all in the same timings!
  • Whenever S/O to do something harmful, they find every potential item locked. Always think ahead is the quote of the day
  • Since S/O’s medications and appointments are required for payment, he cuts back from buying cars for now. S/O is his first priority.
  • Helps S/O to get better from their condition (although that very same condition may be permanent), him guided by several suspicious-looking medical related books.
  • In case S/O dies despite all the medication they’ve been given, he’ll follow behind without a doubt..
Remedy pt.2

Tags: @the-shewxlf, @megant22, @sexywolfsfordays, @houseofrahl, @sterek-basically, @kittycatgirlmaddie, @misshinehou, @unbreakablevoices, @champagneblues, @dallysgreasergirl, @juliaspnlover, @cineyou, @lipstickstainsandwerewolfchains, @fallenangel-13x, @urwarriorangel, @bless-my-demons, @lunaskyhunter, @arkhamirwin, @fangirlnerd101, @m-a-t-91​, @meanwhilesmiley​, @edithambroreigns​, @totallovelesson@kxttykatmichael

Word count: 3605

Author’s note: I’m shamelessly taking advantage of the fact that I can now insert some good ol’ House gifs in my posts. Also, authentically depicting House’s character is way harder than I initially thought, but hey – it’s my first time with him and I’m trying :) Aaaand prepare for some (a lot of) feels! Enjoy!

Betas: @i-am-a-misguided-misfit, @lipstickstainsandwerewolfchains, @mixed-up-fangirl, @kittycatgirlmaddie, @fallenangel-13x, @the-shewxlf, @b-chocolatelover, @from2016, @safiac, @random-fandom-fangirl2112


Your name: submit What is this?

“A shot man blacked out? You called me back to the hospital for this, idiot? There is no mystery,” House points out to me in a harsh, chiding tone. Clearly he’s moody because he’s back to work, and as such, he doesn’t fail to humiliate me in front of the entire Team for God knows how many time. But it’s fine; I’m getting used to it, and I’m usually not the only victim to his stinging snark.

“He doesn’t remember how it happened. After leaving the message I asked him further questions and it turned out that he hardly ever gets shot,” I say. House frowns at me, while his hand is rubbing his right leg instinctively, apparently without his conscious consent to it. A few seconds later, he averts his mesmerising blue eyes from me only to dart it at the dark grey rug, deep in thought.

“That doesn’t prove anything,” he states firmly, but the heat has now subsided from his tone. “Every cop gets shot from time to time.”

“Would it have been the better choice to leave him there just like that?” I snap. “I thought our priority was healing and making sure no one has further latent sicknesses by investigating until we’re convinced with one out of the many choices,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest and giving House a meaningful look. When he glances at me, I hold gazes with him for a while before giving in to the temptation to lift an eyebrow at him. House is moving his lips and making faces in the process, while thinking through the options he has. No one speaks; we are all waiting for the boss’ decision.

“Alright. What’s your theory?”

My face lights up at his question—this means he officially accepted to take the officer’s case. I try to stifle my giddiness as I launch into my explanation, “It obviously has something to do with his brain. Most likely it was caused by Multiple Sclerosis or a tumor in his brain. I was planning to give him a CT and lumbar puncture.” House nods okay, and motions in the general direction of the glass door with his cane.

“Nice. Good for us, not good for the patient. Go ahead,” he says. I’m standing before he could even finish his sentence, and after closing the officer’s file on the table and picking it up, I head to the door with the folder clutched to my chest. However, before I’d leave the office, House warns, “If you’re wrong, you’re fired.”

The travel in the elevator seems suffocating after House’s threat. Cuddy has told him he’s not in the position to decide whether I stay or go, but I know him, and I’m definitely convinced that if he doesn’t want me to work on a case, he can sabotage my attempts to take part in it in any way.

Just to make sure, I quickly check the officer’s name once more when I arrive to the floor he’s housed on, then walk to his room, weaving my way through the few visitors and haphazard doctors. Upon entering, the man looks at me, and I give him a small smile in return, hoping he isn’t so worked up like he was yesterday.

“Derek Hale?” I ask politely, approaching the bed he’s laying on, now dressed in just a flimsy pale green outfit that the hospital’s patients are given. My eyes take a momentary glance at the monitor to see his ECG diagram.

“That’s me,” he answers. His voice conveys no distress, no anger, just resignation, like he’s surrendered to medicine. His eyes slip down to my ID then, tilting his head just the tiniest bit to align it with the angle of the card, eyes squinting to try and read my name.

“y/n Lockwood,” I introduce myself, for some reason feeling tempted to stick my hand out for him to shake. This is how it’s appropriate, right? He takes my hand in his—I’ve always known my hands are small, but the way his broad palm and long fingers wrap around it, makes it look even more insignificant in size. He gives me a firm squeeze, which I return, then we let go of each other. “I need to do a few tests on you,” I announce then, picking up his chart from the end of the bed, and pulling the pen out of the pocket over my chest, clicking it and writing on his paper the tests that are going to be done on him.

“What tests?” he asks curtly, crossing his impressively muscled arms in subconscious defence. I hang the chart back on the bed before walking back to stand next to him. “Just a CT and a lumbar puncture,” I answer. “No worries, the latter sounds worse than it actually is.”

“I’m not a vulnerable eggshell, you know,” Derek comments. For a second, I think he was offended by my statement, think that he took it personally, but the way his eyes twinkle slyly, I realise he’s just asserting his masculinity a little sarcastically. Once more, I reach out for him to help him move, but he dismisses it with a shake of his head. Throwing the blanket to the side, and turning to let his legs hang from the side of the bed, he adds, “I was just shot. I can walk by myself.”

I nod slowly, suddenly feeling embarrassed for some reason. My voice is a near squeak when I say, “Right. Follow me then, please.”

I wait while he puts his robe on to cover more of his body—the green outfit is short, like the patient is merely wearing an oversized T-shirt, and the V-neck of it leaves nothing to my imagination regarding Derek’s pectorals, collar bones and strong shoulders. He slips into his slippers, then we take off to the CT machine first.

. o O o .

“There is no tumor in his brain,” I inform the Team about the results of the CT. House gives me a look and narrows his eyes at me suspiciously. The only reason this makes me feel worse than usual is because this time he isn’t the only one standing in front of the rest of the Team—I’m there beside him, too. To relieve the tension a bit, I hold on to the folder in my hands for dear life, fingers gripping it just a touch stronger than a moment ago.

“You’re too calm,” he assesses. “Too calm for someone who was told could be fired if not everything goes smoothly. So I assume there’s more to it.”

I do my best to tamper down the smugness that’s bubbling up in my throat as I hand him over the paper with the results of the lumbar puncture. “As you can see, the amount of his proteins and leukocytes are increased.”

Chase’s head perks up from where he was playing with his pen until now, “That means encephalitis.”

“Told you it was something,” I say pointedly to House, who just looks at me in return. I suppose the knowing smirk on my face wasn’t overlooked by his insightful blue eyes, because he quips, “Come on, don’t be so happy about someone having an encephalitis. What kind of doctor are you? Sociopathic?”

I’m fast to react. “What if I told you I was?” I ask challengingly.

“The million dollar question is, what would you do upon hearing my answer, in case you’re actually a sociopath.”

“How about letting me know your answer and see where it goes?” I offer. The lightest, vaguest hint of a smile on his thin lips lights up House’s worn-out features. He tells me, “Go and give him antivirals. Also, make a test to find out if he has syphilis and check his body for potential marks of a sting from a tick.”

I don’t have to be told twice. I’m already worried about our cop just fine—I’m aware this is going against House’s number two rule here, the ‘don’t get attached to the patient’ rule. The uttermost policy is ‘everybody lies’.

I don’t find Derek in his room, so I have to go look for him. There was a case a couple months ago where we had to play hide and seek with the patient, and it was no fun for us; House was so livid, the Team was nearly snagged for someone getting fired. As for now, I couldn’t tell if my current frustration or my general worry for him is stronger at the moment—I know that if another blackout occurs, I would have to be there immediately. Besides, anything could happen to him while the time’s ticking by with me just searching for him everywhere frantically, even without him fainting.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take me more than a few minutes to find him—sitting on a couch next to the artificial waterfall, a woman on his side, the two of them holding hands. She’s wearing a black skirt suit with matching high-heels, her dark hair put in a neat ballerina bun, giving her a professional appearance. For some reason, it makes me feel utterly small, like she reminds me of the fact that I could never be like her; so strong, so attractive, so stylish. No, I’m just here in my jeans, my flat shoes and a casual shirt, all this adorned by my white labcoat and the ponytail I put my hair in this morning. I guess the clichéd roles—the queen bee and the nerd—will stick to the people for their entire lives. Inhaling deeply, I force a smile on my face before taking off towards them, but a part of Derek’s sentence is enough to stop me in my tracks.

“I’m afraid I’ll lose my job,” comes his quiet voice. The woman strokes his upper arm soothingly, then settles her hand on his shoulder and gives it an encouraging squeeze. Her other hand is still resting in her lap, palm facing up, welcoming Derek’s in it to provide him silent comfort.

“I’m sure it’s nothing serious,” she assures softly. Contrary to what it does to Derek—calming him down and giving him hope—it unsettles me to no end. I’m just about to inform him about the very serious illness that could explain his condition, and now this burden feels even more unbearable than before. “You’ll be just fine. I’m sure in two days you’re going to be chasing criminals again.” No one should be punished with having to tell someone their life is in jeopardy, or how long they have before their disease takes over. No one signs up for shattering dreams, but for healing and saving lives—saving their dreams. My body feels like a cage to me, from which I can’t escape before I’m done with my duty. With the lump huger in my throat, I force my legs to take me to where they are sitting.

“Mr. Hale,” I greet him. My voice comes out as a squeak, despite how hard I’m trying to prevent that. But seeing how his face lights up with the hope the woman gave him? It makes me want to cry, because I know I can’t live up to those expectations.

“Dr. Lockwood,” he nods to me, then motions towards the elegant woman on his side. “This is my elder sister, Laura.” I shake hands with her, but the smile I give her is tight, and I’m sure she noticed it, because her brow twitches shallowly. The grip Laura gives is firm, giving it away to me that she’s a determined person who knows what she wants, and isn’t afraid to go for it.

“Did you figure out anything?” she asks, taking her hand back. I’m taken aback by that question—usually, people start with something like, ‘he’s alright, right?’. Clearly she craves effectiveness and results, not beating around the bush. I have to swallow against the dryness in my mouth before I could speak.

“Yes,” I answer. The siblings’ attention is availably doubled at that, and my heart twists painfully in my chest, knowing that what I’m about to say is not what they are expecting to be told. This is why, I give them a meek warning beforehand, “But you won’t be happy with the results.” My voice is ginger, but tight. Even without my eyes dropping lower than their eyes, I can clearly catch the way Laura’s hand closes tighter around Derek’s. I struggle to go on, “According to the lumbar puncture, Mr. Hale’s leukocyte and protein number is higher than normal.”

“What does that mean?” Laura asks instead of Derek, tone calm and measured, but I can sense the underlying vibrating anxiousness. As soon as the words left my mouth, Derek tilted his head forward to look at the ground instead of me, like he can’t bear seeing me. It feels like a punch to the gut. I close my eyes apologetically for a moment, then explain hoarsely, “It means that Mr. Hale has encephalitis.”

This is the point where Laura loses her perfect mask of the sophisticated woman she normally shows to the world—it perishes silently, in the form of a fat teardrop escaping from her eye and rolling down her cheek. On the other hand, Derek handles it exactly how a strong man would do; he even has the capacity to wrap an arm around Laura and pull her close to him to comfort her, even though it should be the other way around. Laura, though, refuses it for being too proud, already wiping away the stray drop from her face, like it’s never made it there. Derek’s face is expressionless, and the fact he isn’t looking at me anymore stabs me in the chest. His green gaze is fixed on Laura, and nothing else.

I decide to leave them, assuming it’s the best thing I could do, but only after muttering an apology, despite I know this isn’t my fault. I shouldn’t let it get to me, and lately I’ve been getting better at it, but this single occasion ruined all my past successes. I go for the medicine I have to give Derek, then to his room to find a nurse undoing the covers on Derek’s bed.

“Erica, what are you doing?” I ask, putting the antiviral on the nightstand beside the bed. She turns to look at me with a smile.

“Changing his covers, if it wasn’t obvious already,” she quips. I can’t force a grin even for a second after what happened between me and the Hale siblings. Erica doesn’t fail to notice my unease, and she inquires, brows furrowing, “Is something wrong?” Setting down the blanket that’s halfway to being freed, she comes up to me, touching my upper arm gently.

“No, nothing,” I lie, asking the first thing that comes to my mind just to change the subject as soon as possible. “Why are you changing those?” I nod in the general direction of the mess Erica has made. She sighs and goes back to resume her work.

“He’s been going a lot to the toilet. Last time he couldn’t make it there, though, so his vomit ended up on the bed,” she replies, grimacing at the story she shared with me. Clearly the stink is bothering her.

I acknowledge her answer with a nod, then I sit down at the bed, now lacking the sheets, to wait for Derek to return, regardless of the aversion I have for that.

. o O o .

In the end, it takes Derek almost an hour to migrate back and to take his place at his now clear, freshly covered bed. He halts at the door upon noticing me, and just watches me with an expressionless stare. The stretching silence is deafening me, especially with the glass walls shutting out every noise, but this time I can’t bring myself to break it. Instead, I opt to do my job to give myself something else to focus on; I place the plastic pocket of antiviral on the hook above the bed and, after Derek laid down, I inject the other end in his vein. To my surprise and relief, he speaks up.

“How bad is my sickness?” I look at him. Derek’s gaze is darted firmly at the ceiling, not at me, making it clear to me he’s still uncomfortable with seeing me. It stings, but at least he’s now talking—I should appreciate all the small victories. His face is still devoid of emotions.

“We’ll have to figure that out with an MRI later, but right now, the priority is to find out what caused the illness in the first place.”

Derek acknowledges my answer with a nod, then closes his eyes—I get the message loud and clear; he’s telling me without words to leave him alone now. I don’t have a reason to protest, so I consent.

. o O o .

I arrive to the restaurant twenty minutes late. Rushing in, I scan the place, searching for my dinner partners. I spot them in one of the hidden corners, at a dimply lit box with a table and four chairs around it. I stride over to them with a wide grin, greeting them and taking my coat off to lay it on the back of the chair.

“Hey, y/n, long time no see.”

“Scott,” I nod, hugging him briefly before wrapping Allison up in my embrace, too. “Sorry for being late,” I say genuinely, sitting down. “My boss likes to give his Team all the work.”

“We know; everyone knows House’s reputation,” Scott waves it off with a hand.

“How are you?” I ask then, turning to Allison. She beams at me with a shining smile.

“The baby’s due on 14th February,” she announces giddily. “I’m perfectly fine, and so is my baby boy. Only two more months to go,” she drops her eyes at her extended belly, reaching up to rub it fondly, delicately. I chuckle.

“So he’s going to be a Valentine’s boy, huh. How do you know if the baby’s going to be a boy, though? You had it checked?” I ask.

“We don’t exactly know. Allison doesn’t want to check it, wants to wait until he’s born, but she’s convinced he’s a boy,” Scott explains.

“That’s cute,” I coo. A waiter comes to me to take my order, and after the brief chat I have with him, I devote my attention to my friends again.

“And how’s your internship at Princeton?” Allison asks. I shrug; honestly I really don’t wish to talk about that right now—I’d just ruin the mood with it, and that’s the last thing I want. I give them a subtle hint, “I don’t think that’s a fitting subject at the moment.” Scott winces and gives me a worried look.

“Did something happen?” I shake my head no, and pick up my napkin to busy myself with something—also to give myself an excuse not to have to look into either of their eyes.

“No,” I respond a little too late for the other two to believe it. Not that the timing would have mattered anyway; they know me all too well since high school.

“Tell us about it,” Allison urges.

“I really don’t think this is the appropriate time to –”

“y/n, don’t expect me to leave my other best friend tonight without talking this over with her,” Scott demands, a serious gleam in his deep, chestnut brown eyes. “Your face gives you away easily, you know, and I can see it’s something that deeply affected you.”

“Oh yeah, how Stiles and Lydia are doing?” I ask, desperately trying to lead the conversation in another direction, shamelessly taking the chance to talk about the other best friend Scott has without a second thought. While Scott is already opening his mouth to tell me about the other couple, Allison cuts in with a sharp, “y/n”.

“Okay, okay, got it,” I cry out, throwing my hands up in surrender. “So we have a new case since yesterday, and after testing the patient, it turned out he has encephalitis. And he’s a cop.” I take a deep breath before going on, “I had to tell him while his elder sister was there, too.”

“Poor baby,” Allison coos, reaching over the table to stroke my hand soothingly. I’m not surprised by her being so touchy-feely, nor the nickname she addressed me by—I blame it on the raging hormones in her body; thanks to them, she’s way more sensitive to emotional distress than an ordinary person, who isn’t carrying a blooming life under their heart. I manage to smile at her, albeit it doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

“We’re staying here in New Jersey until the baby’s born,” Scott chimes in to whisk the tension away, and the news don’t fail to light up my face.

“Seriously?” I ask, eyes excitedly commuting between the future parents, who just nod at the same time to me with a smile on their faces.

“Yes. And I’m going to attend controls at Princeton-Plainsboro,” Allison says proudly.

“Oh my God,” I chuckle, leaning back on the chair to rest against the back of it. “Give me a call whenever you’re there.”

“Definitely,” she promises. Scott places his hand on her belly to stroke it affectionately. I have never seen such an expression on Scott’s face before—it’s a mixture of responsibility-consciousness, fatherly protection, undying love and slight possessiveness. But above all, it’s meek.

Scott is now officially a grown-up man.

A Close Call


Pairing: Derek x Reader

Prompt: We’re falling apart aren’t we

Summary: Yours and Derek’s relationship had been rocky, but neither of you wanted to acknowledge it until both of you have to face the fact, that the relationship isn’t how it used to be.

Another mission, another plan, another chance at losing his life. You were sitting on the couch while Derek, Scott, Lydia, Stiles, Allison and Isaac were going over the battle plan.

“Scott and I will go in first, no-one came in until we give the all clear” Derek instructed, “Isaac you and Allison will be guarding the building, while Lydia and Stiles will be finding a way to turn the power off”.

“What if this doesn’t go as plan, I mean they rarely do” Isaac pitched in.

“Really? Your going to bring negativity to the table?” Stiles asked.

You bit your lip to not laugh, Stiles and Isaac always argued and most of the time it was entertaining you couldn’t deny that.

“It will work okay, and if not then we stick together” Scott answered.

“Okay, we’ll all meet in an hour” Derek said.

Each of them nodded and left the loft. You got up from the couch and approached Derek, “And let me guess I stay here?” you asked him.

He lifted his head, “If were about to have an argument Y/N, can it wait until I get back?”.

This was what it had been like for the past month. Derek was normally a closed off person, due to past experiences and you didn’t blame him for that. The first few months of the relationship had been bliss, but nothing can last forever and now it was constant distance, short conversations and more arguments than usual.

“That’s the point I’ve been trying to make Derek, what if you don’t come back?”.

He put on his jacket and walked over to you, “I will always come back to you” he said before walking out the loft door. That might had been the most sincere Derek has been in a month, but it still didn’t fill that empty feeling you had.

Night fell and still Derek hadn’t came home yet, this was one of those restless nights where you wouldn’t allow yourself to fall asleep until he was right beside you. Pacing, sitting and then back to pacing the room was what it had been like since you saw the sky turn to night.

“Where are you Derek?” you said looking out the window. You knew that if anything had happened, a phone call from Scott would have came but considering there wasn’t you still couldn’t decide if you should be relived, or even more worried.

Sitting down on the bed in the corner you picked up his pillow and it still lingered with his scent, playing with the ends of it the door opened. Jumping up Scott was helping Derek in, he wasn’t badly injured but he did have some bruises and his arm was bleeding. Helping Scott bring Derek to the couch you asked, “What happened?”.

“One of the came out of nowhere and blindsided him, I would of called earlier to tell you we were all fine but so much was going on”. Scott said

You lightly smiled and told Scott not to worry about it, he bid the two of you goodnight and you sat down next to your injured boyfriend. Usually you would ask him how he was, grab a towel and clean up his injuries but this time you didn’t know if he would allow you to do all those things.

“Do you want me to get you some water?” you asked.

Derek leaned his head back for a second before his hand found yours, “We’re falling apart aren’t we?” he asked, however it sounded more like a statement than a question. Because whether either of you liked it the answer was obvious.

“We can talk about it in the morning, you need to get some rest”. Getting up, Derek grabbed your wrist.

“Please, just tell me if I’m about to lose you…if I’m about to lose us”. He didn’t care if he was bleeding, that you could tell. His eyes bore into yours and the longer you held the gaze, it became harder to figure out what to say.

Sitting back down, you took a moment to yourself. Granted this past month wasn’t easy and the amount of work, commit and energy went into being with Derek ended up always worth it. But was that the case this time around?

“I don’t know what to say Derek, our relationship changed this past month. I think we both knew it, the feeling was there. And now we can’t ignore that fact anymore” you said to him.

He shifted closer to you, as he did so you could see the pain in his face from the injury on his arm. “Derek you need to rest” you told him

He placed his hand on your cheek, and you closed your eyes to hold onto that feeling it gave you. “I’ll rest once I know that this isn’t over. I know I’ve been distant and frankly a shitty boyfriend, and I can’t believe you haven’t left early. But I promise you that whatever this is, whatever created this road bump for us…we’ll get through it. Because I’m not ready to lose you”.

Opening your eyes, you locked onto his and for the first time in what felt like forever you saw a hint of the old Derek, the one who you fell for.

“I’m not ready to lose you either” you said to him

“Does that mean we’re going to try and fix this?” his voice sounded hopeful.

Nodding felt like the best answer, he pulled you close and laid your head on his shoulder. “How’s your arm” you asked.

He chuckled, “I was waiting for you to ask. It’s fine, I’ve had worse”

It felt like Derek and you hit the reset button on the relationship. You knew this wasn’t going to be easy, heck even he knew it as well. But the shear fact that both of you are willing to not let this road bump, result in the end of your relationship said a lot. It would take more than this to tear you and Derek apart.

Feeling your eyelids get heavy, you almost missed it but before sleep took over you heard Derek say, “I’m falling so madly in love with you Y/N”.

And that’s when you knew that this relationship was still alive, that you and Derek were going to be okay.

The War on Women

Let me dissect the following for just a moment.

Let me be frank before I continue: I support access to safe pregnancy termination. I support access to contraception. I support maternity leave. I support health care for all. Just so there are no illusions before I take a shit all over this stupidity presented here.

No abortion. The last time I check, Roe v. Wade has not been overturned. There are regulations on late-term abortion, because at a certain point, the pregnancy isn’t just a clump of cells. If you think that conservatives are against abortion because they hate women, you’re just willfully in denial. It’s completely rational that when they believe it’s the murder of a baby, they see it as a moral issue that needs to be spoken up about. I can reasonably understand their feelings, while still concluding that they’re wrong. But seriously - abortion has not been taken away.

No birth control. Contraception has not been banned. You can still get it. You’re just merely back to having to expend for a co-pay to get it. It sucks. I’m against the rollback of the mandate. The mandate was only based on the co-pay though. The prescription itself was only free based on your insurance plan. If you were covered before, you still are. Birth control has not been taken away.

No maternity leave. While it’s an easily verifiable fact that the U.S. has one of the worst maternity leave mandates in the first world, FMLA has not been repealed in over 20 years. You are allowed 12 weeks unpaid leave. It’s absolutely ridiculous, especially in this country. But 12 weeks unpaid leave is 12 weeks longer than no maternity leave - which makes this particular one an outright lie. Maternity leave has not been taken away.

No health care for your kids. I’m really not sure what this has to do with a supposed war on women. Do only women raise kids all of a sudden? Also, what law has been put on the books that takes away health care for kids? The ACA hasn’t even been repealed yet. You’re in no different of a position for health care today than you were 5 years ago. Health care for your kids hasn’t been taken away.

No health care for you. Now, I’m going to play devil’s advocate and guess this has to do with the Republican’s attack against Planned Parenthood in just the last year alone. I’m vehemently against it. Planned Parenthood isn’t some chop shop for fetuses. They provide necessary preventative care at an affordable rate for women, care that is much needed, such as testing for different cancers that are more prone for women. Last time I checked, Planned Parenthood was still around. You can still get that sort of health care from them if you need it, even if they don’t have the support of federal dollars. Your insurance should otherwise cover you now, there is a preventative care mandate in the ACA. Health care for women hasn’t been taken away.

The supposed “War on Women” is one of the most intangible things connected to third/fourth-wave feminism; it’s undoubtedly a gross over-exaggeration. It’s like when Fox News likes to complain about the “War on Christmas” every winter (wait for it, we’re a couple months away right now). There’s no real evidence that anyone is actually engaging in any sort of culture war of this magnitude, but everyone wants to be victimized by something, and some of those people need to victimize themselves to extreme degrees. Any time we talk about a war on anything, it’s without rationality. Whether we’re engaging a war on something (drugs, terrorism, etc) and ultimately just make the problem worse, or otherwise never see any real results other than wasted money, effort, and lives are thrown in the garbage; or we’re projecting that a war is being directed at us (women, Christmas, etc), it’s always improperly calculated.

Seriously, there’s not a “war” on women. There are certain things women get a bad shake for still, I’m not going to deny that. There are a great many things men, in particular, get a bad shake for. You certainly don’t hear a cascading narrative that there’s a “War on Men” though. You just get a movement put in place where men talk about those very things, and ultimately become villainized by people who literally believe there’s a war on women.

Sometimes things just suck for people, and maybe part of the problem is that people think only their problems matter. Maybe not. Who knows. But I would conclude that until abortion is made completely illegal, contraceptive has been branded completely illegal, maternity leave is not at all allowed, and children and women don’t have access to health care at all, and furthermore that these things no longer exist specifically to detriment women - then let’s stop proselytizing the idea that there’s an actual war on a gender.

What to expect: Recovering from a rhinoplasty

Take all of this as guidelines, as it varies a lot from case to case. I just thought I’d write some random information for anyone who is interested!

  • After the surgery you stay one night stay at the hospital, then you return home the next morning.
  • You need to wear a cast for about 1 week.
  • You might have to have nasal packaging (tubes of cotton inside your nose) usually for 1 day.
  • Bruising around the eyes can occur. It’s common if there is work around the bridge of the nose or if your nose is broken. 
  • SWELLING. There’s a lot. Most of the swelling is gone after one month, but it is not fully gone until 6 months to a year. 
  • You need to avoid vigorous exercise, lifting heavy things, sunburn for at least a month.
  • You cannot blow your nose for 2 weeks. That sounds minor but it’s actually really annoying.
  • There’s usually very little pain. It looks a lot worse than it feels.
  • It’s normal to go through depression after the surgery. It’s normal to worry you made a mistake at first. There’s a lot of waiting for the result, and many people don’t realise how long it is before you see the final result.
House of Cards in the Wind

TITLE: House of Cards in the Wind


AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you were a powerful villain who was captured by S.H.I.E.L.D. and put in Cryogenic storage because there was no other way to deal with you. After doing some research, Loki learned about you and became obsessed. So much, that he looked for you and woke you up, knowing that you’d seek revenge and he would be more than willing to help.

RATING: Teen and Up

NOTES/WARNINGS: This story is the result of an imagine I saw on another blog theartofimagining13. The credit for the imagine goes to the author on that page.

Warning death of minor characters and violence in this fic

“I’ve got bad news, and I’ve got really bad news.” Tony declared as he walked into the room.

“I am not sure what I want first, there are so many great options,” Barton replied sarcastically.

“Loki is back on Earth and there is no way to contact Thor.”

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anonymous asked:

da:i companions helping the inquisitor after the events of trespasser? particularly the whole arm thing, and maybe how they & the inquisitor cope with it?

So I thought I should do this one since I just finished Trespasser recently. This was one of our first requests on this account and we all felt bad that we couldn’t write it since we hadn’t finished Trespasser. Now I have and I’ll tell you, I’m so sad, both bc of what happens and just that it’s done for now. We have a mix of trespasser asks and since this one is just helping the Inquisitor after events, it will focus on handling the lose of the Inquisitor’s arm and finding out about Solas. Anyway here is this and know that this obviously has some spoilers for Trespasser.

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Gentleman of the Bedchamber

prompt: royalty
pairings: destiel
word count: 724
tags: no warnings apply, porn with feels, king!cas, sex chair
only on tumblr for now

Thanks @zaphodsgirl for your encouragement/enabling!

The rumors about Castiel are seemingly endless, and none are so pervasive as the ones about his lovers.

The most ridiculous, of course, being that Castiel could or would even want to entertain more than one. For Castiel, there is no other person, no human being on this Earth of any gender, of any designation, of any rank or God-given birth who could ever compare to his beloved.

Sinking into his lover’s beautiful ass, Castiel knows that this is truly the height of Earthly pleasure.

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