hello! my name is Jay (or briar, whichever you'd prefer), and my pronouns are she/her/hers. I've decided to consolidate a lot of my writing here from my main blog, @briarlovesclara , and my ao3, jay_is_too_tired_for_this ! (And catch my art @ jay_is_too_tired_for_this on instagram)
I am over 18, and some of my work covers more adult topics. I try to tag as well as I can, but please beware! If you are 13 or younger, please do not interact at all.
header credit: Lois Fenne/ If_photography via Unsplash
i will be reblogging pieces of writing I enjoy and want here from my main blog, and posting about fanfics I upload to ao3 by fandom. there might be some older fics I don't move over, so make sure to look through if you're interested in them!
I will also be writing little blurbs here and there, though they probably won't be listed on my masterlist. search for the fandom on my blog to see all my posts for a fandom!
asks are open in case you want to ask me anything about my writing, takes on characters, etc <3
my current largest/most active fandoms for writing: The Hunger Games (book canon-centric), The Pitt!
masterlists:
wicked
the hunger games
SMPs (traffic, DSMP, etc)
percy jackson
the pitt x pjo au
the pitt
phm
doctor who
tagging habits:
mywriting: writing of mine, including fics, drabbles, etc.
ao3: fics published on ao3
tumblr: writing exclusive to tumblr
fanfic: ...fanfic (maybe redundant, but I don't care)
misc: miscellaneous
my art: very rare art post here
look up fandom names for fandom specific content! (ex: wicked, thg, dr who)
...
"The questions had been routine thus far, nothing that she hadn’t been expecting. The story that she had set out had already been corroborated by all relevant witnesses; now her motive and emotions were in the spotlight. Well, what they thought were her emotions. Eva recoiled internally at the idea of trying to explain to this man how it felt to run the world as it died. And beyond that… she was still a person, was she not? Surely she was entitled to some privacy. Some emotions that belonged only to her and the dead.
“Ms. Stratt,” the lawyer said, standing still and staring her dead-on in the way that meant he thought he had a particularly news-worthy moment ahead of him, “what exactly was the nature of your relationship to Doctor Ryland Grace?”"
...
or: Eva Stratt has multiple homicide cases against her across the world after the launch of the Hail Mary.
AO3 LINK
Chapters (ao3 links):
United States of America, Part 1
╰┈➤ "CURRENT TRIAL: The defendant is charged with the first-degree murder of Doctor Ryland Grace, American citizen."
United States of America, Part 2
╰┈➤ "CURRENT TRIAL: The defendant is charged with the first-degree murder of Doctor Annie Shapiro, American citizen."
thank you all for your initial support on this tumblr post!
"It was damning, probably. Maybe even unwise to admit. But the fact of the matter was that Eva Stratt had not only signed the papers on these decisions but written them. Behind the prosecutor, she saw her lawyer close his eyes briefly as if in physical pain.
“I see.” The prosecution said, and one side of his mouth curled into what was more of a sneer than a smile."
tags added: Baiknour operations were not OSHA approved, Sassy Eva Stratt, Major Character Death
...
"The questions had been routine thus far, nothing that she hadn’t been expecting. The story that she had set out had already been corroborated by all relevant witnesses; now her motive and emotions were in the spotlight. Well, what they thought were her emotions. Eva recoiled internally at the idea of trying to explain to this man how it felt to run the world as it died. And beyond that… she was still a person, was she not? Surely she was entitled to some privacy. Some emotions that belonged only to her and the dead.
“Ms. Stratt,” the lawyer said, standing still and staring her dead-on in the way that meant he thought he had a particularly news-worthy moment ahead of him, “what exactly was the nature of your relationship to Doctor Ryland Grace?”"
...
or: Eva Stratt has multiple homicide cases against her across the world after the launch of the Hail Mary.
AO3 LINK
Chapters (ao3 links):
United States of America, Part 1
╰┈➤ "CURRENT TRIAL: The defendant is charged with the first-degree murder of Doctor Ryland Grace, American citizen."
United States of America, Part 2
╰┈➤ "CURRENT TRIAL: The defendant is charged with the first-degree murder of Doctor Annie Shapiro, American citizen."
thank you all for your initial support on this tumblr post!
ohhhh the concept of carl lying under oath at one of stratt's trials. he is being investigated too, of course, and she will vehemently deny anything untoward in her legal statement for his case, but first they are sitting in the same courtroom together and carl is being asked about the astronauts and it's truly routine, this small section where they emphasize that all of them went willingly, a predictable pressure point that stratt's legal defenses will use to try to argue the charges down, but both carl and eva and the god she belives in can feel the tightness in her chest as he calmly confirms that all astronauts volunteered for their mission. that there was never manipulation or coercion beyond statements of facts. that science officer doctor ryland grace requested an earlier coma be induced for his nerves. yes, carl was there when the doctor put him under, as a security measure. no, doctor grace did not seem conflicted or upset. he believed in the hail mary, says carl, and the half-truth sits oddly in their stomachs for the rest of the day.
sneak peek bc it turns out this is going to be multi-chapter with each chapter focusing on a different case:
“After three hours of private deliberation,” he started evenly, “Dr. Grace reported back to Director Stratt’s office to volunteer to be sent on the Hail Mary spaceship as the sole science officer.”
“And were you with him during those three hours?” Stratt’s lawyer said. She had been around him long enough to hear the near giddiness in his tone, which she almost pitied. If he thought that he could win this case, he was a fool.
“I was surveilling Dr. Grace from a reasonable distance as per my instructions.” Carl said, looking up from his paper neutrally. “He made it clear that he wanted time alone to collect his thoughts appropriately. We did not speak.”
“He didn’t even know I was there.” Carl told her, standing stiffly in the doorway. “I just left him. He’ll be here any minute.”
“Thank you, Mr. Smith.” Stratt said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. SHe knew she had failed when Carl didn’t reprimand her for using his last name.
“I’ll be commanding my team from outside as requested. Just walkie me.” He said, and she swallowed harshly before waving him away.
“Let’s just hope that won’t be necessary.”
i died slow (running through the halls of your haunted home) MASTERLIST
"Abandonment has its own kind of grief trauma – a powerful grief universal to human beings. The grief can be acute – as when we go through the ending of a relationship, or chronic – as when we feel the impact of earlier losses and disconnection.
The natural folds in abandonment’s grief process fall into five universal stages: Shattering, Withdrawal, Internalizing, Rage, and Lifting. These stages overlap one another as part of one inexorable process of grief and recovery. They spell SWIRL which is descriptive of the cyclonic nature of this all-encompassing cloud of human emotion. Each stage affects a different aspect of human functioning and calls forth a different emotional response."
"The 5 Phases of Abandonment and Recovery: The Path of Healing" by Susan Anderson
...
or; while Ryland Grace sleeps onboard the Hail Mary, his children grow up.
CWs at the beginning of each chapter, but general CW for: abandonment/child abandonment*, mention/discussion of suicide*, canon-typical doomsdayism
*re: Grace going on the Hail Mary
Link to "The 5 Phases of Abandonment and Recovery: The Path of Healing" by Susan Anderson
thank you all for your initial support on this tumblr post
So the good news is I've *started* all three of the other "core" chapters. The bad news is I've finished none of them. But ☝️ hopefully they are improved by me taking my time!
Not the update that anyone was hoping for, but I'm going through an unexpected pet loss right now, which might effect this project since it's about, well, unexpected loss. It was already an emotional project and so I'm being careful to protect myself at this time. Other fics may come out in between, but those may be hunger games or other media. For many reasons, I wish this hadn't happened, but it did. Thanks for your support
i died slow (running through the halls of your haunted home) MASTERLIST
"Abandonment has its own kind of grief trauma – a powerful grief universal to human beings. The grief can be acute – as when we go through the ending of a relationship, or chronic – as when we feel the impact of earlier losses and disconnection.
The natural folds in abandonment’s grief process fall into five universal stages: Shattering, Withdrawal, Internalizing, Rage, and Lifting. These stages overlap one another as part of one inexorable process of grief and recovery. They spell SWIRL which is descriptive of the cyclonic nature of this all-encompassing cloud of human emotion. Each stage affects a different aspect of human functioning and calls forth a different emotional response."
"The 5 Phases of Abandonment and Recovery: The Path of Healing" by Susan Anderson
...
or; while Ryland Grace sleeps onboard the Hail Mary, his children grow up.
CWs at the beginning of each chapter, but general CW for: abandonment/child abandonment*, mention/discussion of suicide*, canon-typical doomsdayism
*re: Grace going on the Hail Mary
Link to "The 5 Phases of Abandonment and Recovery: The Path of Healing" by Susan Anderson
thank you all for your initial support on this tumblr post
So the good news is I've *started* all three of the other "core" chapters. The bad news is I've finished none of them. But ☝️ hopefully they are improved by me taking my time!
i died slow (running through the halls of your haunted home) MASTERLIST
"Abandonment has its own kind of grief trauma – a powerful grief universal to human beings. The grief can be acute – as when we go through the ending of a relationship, or chronic – as when we feel the impact of earlier losses and disconnection.
The natural folds in abandonment’s grief process fall into five universal stages: Shattering, Withdrawal, Internalizing, Rage, and Lifting. These stages overlap one another as part of one inexorable process of grief and recovery. They spell SWIRL which is descriptive of the cyclonic nature of this all-encompassing cloud of human emotion. Each stage affects a different aspect of human functioning and calls forth a different emotional response."
"The 5 Phases of Abandonment and Recovery: The Path of Healing" by Susan Anderson
...
or; while Ryland Grace sleeps onboard the Hail Mary, his children grow up.
CWs at the beginning of each chapter, but general CW for: abandonment/child abandonment*, mention/discussion of suicide*, canon-typical doomsdayism
*re: Grace going on the Hail Mary
Link to "The 5 Phases of Abandonment and Recovery: The Path of Healing" by Susan Anderson
thank you all for your initial support on this tumblr post
i died slow (running through the halls of your haunted home) MASTERLIST
"Abandonment has its own kind of grief trauma – a powerful grief universal to human beings. The grief can be acute – as when we go through the ending of a relationship, or chronic – as when we feel the impact of earlier losses and disconnection.
The natural folds in abandonment’s grief process fall into five universal stages: Shattering, Withdrawal, Internalizing, Rage, and Lifting. These stages overlap one another as part of one inexorable process of grief and recovery. They spell SWIRL which is descriptive of the cyclonic nature of this all-encompassing cloud of human emotion. Each stage affects a different aspect of human functioning and calls forth a different emotional response."
"The 5 Phases of Abandonment and Recovery: The Path of Healing" by Susan Anderson
...
or; while Ryland Grace sleeps onboard the Hail Mary, his children grow up.
CWs at the beginning of each chapter, but general CW for: abandonment/child abandonment*, mention/discussion of suicide*, canon-typical doomsdayism
*re: Grace going on the Hail Mary
Link to "The 5 Phases of Abandonment and Recovery: The Path of Healing" by Susan Anderson
thank you all for your initial support on this tumblr post
i died slow (running through the halls of your haunted home) CHAPTER 1: Shattering
"They’d all gotten a healthy dose of trauma injected straight into their developing brains, and Kirsten had developed pretty severe abandonment issues because of it. She knocked again, catching the tattoo on her inner wrist, the thin red line that arced with the curve of her hand. Mr. Grace had left them with that, too, even if he’d never know it."
credit to @securitycapecreature for inspiring this chapter!
Masterlist for this fic here
Read on ao3 here
CW: panic attack, parental arguing, mentioned suicide (Grace on the HM)
“Shattering: The painful tear in your attachment, stab-wound to the heart. The sudden disconnection sends you into panic, devastation, shock, and bewilderment. … You feel the disconnection as a painful jolt, instantly catapulting you out of the positive sense of future that that connection had given you, and sending you back to the beginning where you were abjectly alone. In a long term relationship, you feel symbiotically attached to your lost love –as if you can’t survive without him or her – which throws you into an intense emotional crisis – a true trauma. You’ve been severed from your Siamese twin and you’re in the recovery room, alone, crying out in pain. Where is your other half? You try to keep remnants of your fractured self together, but your whole sense of reality feels destroyed. One minute you succumb to the overwhelming despair, suicidal feelings, and sorrow. The next, you see glimmers of hope, only to be dashed again on the shores of despair.”
Rekha learned that her science teacher was not coming back late at night, when she should have been sleeping. She’d tried to -- she really had -- but like all of the other nights of the unexplained, week-long leave her school was on, she couldn’t calm her mind. After tossing and turning for hours, she’d gotten up to get water, socked feet padding lightly down the hall, when she’d overheard her parents arguing in the living room. It wasn’t the first time they’d fought, sometimes even in front of her, but the sound of her name grabbed her like a fish on a hook and grounded her feet into place before she could sneak by the entrance.
“--is going to find out eventually.” Her dad’s voice was tight with what sounded like desperation. A pit formed in Rekha’s stomach so fast that she felt nauseous. What were they hiding?
“Rishi.” Her mom returned, equally pleading. “Just a few more days--”
“There’s no time, Kalpana!” Her dad snapped, and Rekha’s hands curled into tense fists. “She only has a few days left until she goes back to school. It’s outrageous that she hasn’t found out from her phone yet. Don’t you want it to come from us?”
“Of course I do!” Anger was seeping into her mom’s tone. “Forgive me for not knowing what to say yet.”
“Nobody has a script for this, Kalpana.” His voice was weary now, low enough that Rekha inched closer to the opening to hear him clearly. “We just have to choose how we’re going to approach it, but we do have to.”
“Well,” came her mother’s teary voice, “forgive me for not knowing how to decide on how to explain to our 12 year old daughter that her favorite teacher fucked off on a suicide mission so the sun doesn’t go out!”
Rekha stumbled back a step, a small, sharp gasp escaping before she could clamp her mouth shut. It wasn’t her mother’s raised voice or rude language that spun her head, though.
Mr. Grace… left?
Mr. Grace left.
Mr. Grace left… to save the sun.
She slipped back to her room with trembling legs, not caring that her mouth was still dry as she fumbled for her phone and opened Incognito mode on Google.
Don’t panic. She thought desperately. Don’t panic until you know what it means. Maybe it’s a unit of time. Or a kind of spaceship. Or something I can’t even understand yet.
She took a single, deep breath and clicked ‘enter’.
Suicide, adjective: being or performing a deliberate act resulting in the voluntary death of the person who does it.
The school counselor’s smile was soft, but you could tell she was exhausted from the day. It had been a week since they’d all returned to class, and all of Rekha’s classmates had been slowly cycled through this office, one after the other.
“So, Rekha, how are you doing?”
“Pretty good.” Rekha said with a smile of her own. Her hands were folded politely on her lap, feet planted firmly on the ground like she’d been taught to, hair pulled back neatly from her face. The counselor hummed neutrally for a moment, glancing at her like she was seeing something that wasn’t there before looking down at her notes.
“Well, Rekha, that’s nice. Specifically, though, I’d like to know how you’re feeling about Dr. Grace’s absence.” The woman -- Ms. Barnett, if Rekha wasn’t mistaken -- lifted her gaze until it was boring into Rekha’s. Rekha nodded politely, giving a small hum as if considering the answer, before she gave the speech that she’d been giving to everyone over the last week and a half.
“I’m very excited.” She said, forcing her smile even wider as she continued. “I mean, I got to learn from Mr. Grace, and he’s literally saving all of humankind! Did you know that he taught me what the Petrova Line is himself, just before he left? I’m so honored. I do wish that he could teach us and be up there at the same time, though. I really miss his lessons.”
Ms. Barnett stayed silent for a long moment after the monologue, staring with an unreadable expression at Rekha’s joyous face.
“You know, Rekha, that you’ve said those same words in almost exactly the same order to everyone who I asked?” She finally said. Rekha’s heart started pounding, and she felt her face warm with embarrassment and panic that was quickly dashed by hot anger, seeping up from deep inside of her and lashing out before she could stop it.
“Well, I’m just telling the truth!” She yelled, pushing her seat back to stand and glare down at Ms. Barnett. “Why do people expect me to come up with some beautiful Shakespeare quote every time the exact same question is asked?! I’m sorry that all of you can’t understand me, but stop making it my problem!” She whirled around, furious, and ripped open the door, slamming it behind her before Ms. Barnett could respond.
Her cookie-cutter answer continued to do just fine until she ran out of people to tell it to.
Rekha’s fist pounded against her friend’s apartment door, arm aching from the supplies she’d brought over. She’d gotten the call an hour ago, laying in bed and determined to enjoy her first day of spring break, but tossed those plans right out her alley-view window when she’d heard Kirsten sobbing on the other end.
“Kiki! Let me in!”
“He just left.” She’d gasped, and Rekha had felt her heart rip in two. “And I c-couldn’t see it coming, and I just came home and he was gone and I- and I-”
“I’ll be there soon with stuff, okay?” She’d replied, relieved at the worn-out “okay” she’d gotten in response. Fuck Jason. He had always seemed nice enough, even starting to be initiated into the friend circle, polite and heart-eyed whenever Kirsten would so much as look his way. Rekha had thought that maybe he would be the one for her friend, and she thinks Kirsten did too. Enough that Rekha knew Kirsten had told him about her… issues with abandonment.
They were the only two in their friend group who had been in Mr. Grace’s classroom the year he flew away. They’d kept in contact with a few of them at first, but the size of the local high school spread everybody out, and now all they were left with were Facebook updates on a handful of their old peers.
Well, that wasn’t all, Rekha thought grimly as she waited for Kirsten to open up. They’d all gotten a healthy dose of trauma injected straight into their developing brains, and Kirsten had developed pretty severe abandonment issues because of it. She knocked again, catching the tattoo on her inner wrist, the thin red line that arced with the curve of her hand. Mr. Grace had left them with that, too, even if he’d never know it.
The door opened under her fist, and her friend’s head peeked out from the blanket that was swallowing the rest of her body.
“Hey, Rekha.” Kirsten mumbled, reaching up to push her blond hair out of her face. Rekha’s eyes fell to the long tattoo of Laika chasing the Earth that danced on her forearm and felt her stomach twist slightly before she looked back up at her friend’s face.
“Hey, Kiki.” She replied with a frown. “I brought some ice cream and chips.” Her friend nodded solemnly and gestured for her to enter her apartment, closing the door and locking it behind her.
For the next few hours, they did it all; Kirsten cried, then yelled, went from almost throwing up to trying to convince Rekha to let her call Jason. By the 5th hour, Kirsten had tired herself out, but Rekha was still buzzing with energy.
“Do you need to take a shower?” She asked, and Kirsten blinked at her slowly before shaking her head.
“No, I managed to take one before you came over somehow.” She muttered. “I think I just need to pass out for a bit.”
“Alright, let’s get you to bed.” Rekha said with determination, about to clap her hands together before she saw Kirsten laughing softly. “What?”
“I’m just going to sleep here for a bit. I’d love for you to stay over if you can, but if you don’t that’s fine. You can stay here or sleep on the couch with me, I don’t care.” Kirsten said, looking already half asleep. Rekha froze for a moment before shaking her head wildly, realizing with morbid curiosity that her hands were trembling.
“No, no.” She said, voice slowly inching higher as the air started to feel thinner. “No, you have to go to bed. I’ll clean up, and get ready, and I’ll stay next to you if you’d like -- in the bed or on a chair -- or I can stay awake if you want -- I don’t-”
“Rekha,” Kirsten said, sitting up straighter. She still looked exhausted, but her brow was furrowed and she seemed much more aware than she had a few seconds ago. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to make you stay awake all night.”
“Right.” Rekha said, but she could feel her breathing still speeding up despite herself, “No, of course, I didn’t mean that you would -- like, tell me to do that, I just mean, like, I just want you to know that I’m here for you, and I’d do whatever to make you feel better -- I mean probably not kill someone but -- not that I wouldn’t -- um-” She didn’t realize that her gaze had unfocused until Kirsten’s arm on her shoulder snapped her back to reality. Her friend looked concerned, all sleepiness gone as the blond scooted closer and laid a hand on Rekha’s forehead.
“Are you okay?” She said, and Rekha felt her eyes burn with tears as she realized that she’d upset her. She’d upset her, again, when she was supposed to be helping her, when she’d- she’d-
“Yep! I’m just, um, upset?” She tried, heart flipping in terror when Kirsten’s hand dropped and a frown crossed her face. “Not upset at you. Just upset that I’m clearly not doing a good job at helping you with this.”
“Rekha.” Kirsten said gently, taking the woman’s shaky hands in her own. Their heat, usually so grounding, only added to the burn of shame flooding through Rekha’s body. “You have been so helpful to me today. Okay? I really appreciate it. I think you’re having a panic attack right now. Does that sound right?”
“No.” Rekha managed to squeak out, but her heart was pounding and she was alternating between holding her breath and panting like she had just run a mile. “I’m not making this about me.”
“It can be about both of us.” Kirsten reassured, voice soft and sweet. Her school counselor voice, Rekha thought, and even in her panic felt a dash of pride. Man, those kids were so lucky. Nothing like…
“Both of us, okay?” Her friend continued, locking her blue eyes on Rekha’s wide brown ones. “Take a big breath for me, okay?” Despite herself, Rekha listened, dragging a shaky breath in and exhaling in a rush when prompted to. Kirsten’s smile was as blinding as the sun as she murmured praise and led them in the breath again.
Instead of the gradual comedown Rekha had expected, her mind cleared sickeningly fast, throwing her into a freefall as what happened caught up to her. She’d had a panic attack because her friend had wanted to sleep on the couch. If the embarrassment had been only slightly less thick, she would have laughed. As it was, a deep groan ripped its way out of her, and she pulled her hands away to bury her face in them.
“M’ so sorry, Kiki.” She muttered, and heard her friend make a small click of disapproval.
“None of that.” She said, and her warm hands were back, this time wrapped around Rekha’s wrists and tugging them gently away so that the friends could look at each other properly. “None of that, okay? Things happen. I’m happy to be here for you.”
“But I was supposed to be here for you.” Rekha whined, knowing she sounded like a stubborn child but not having the energy to care. She pulled her hands away again with a grumpy huff and crossed her arms. “And you were having a normal reaction. A very normal reaction, by the way, considering that your 6th-grade science teacher fucked off on a space suicide mission halfway through the year, so…”
Kirsten’s brow furrowed as she studied Rekha, head tilting slightly like a puppy.
“You know,” she said slowly, “you were abandoned too, Rekha. And it didn’t just hurt us that we were abandoned, it hurt seeing our friends be left behind too. So it makes a lot of sense that this could be a trigger for you.”
Rekha knew, all right. She’d known that night in the darkness of her bedroom, blanket just heating up again from her small body, phone grasped tightly in her hand as her eyes and brain strained alike to understand the words on her screen. She’d known the morning after, when her parents had calmly sat her down and told her that “Mr. Grace made a really hard and really, really brave decision. It means he’s not coming back to teach you.” She’d known by the way the model of the Petrova Line hung silently in their classroom the first morning back, untouched by anyone as if its creator itself would reappear to take it down eventually. She’d known in Ms. Barnett’s office with its brown walls and too-clean furniture, when she opened her mouth and told her what she’d been saying all week. She’d known every other time she’d given that speech until no stone had been left unturned. Everybody who had been in that class knew that Rekha had made Mr. Grace run away, but nobody knew it more than she did.
“Yeah, well.” She said, the words easy out of her mouth from years of repetition inside her head. “It’s not like I can really be too upset about that.”
Kirsten froze mid-reach, hand lifted almost to Rekha’s face. Her eyes darted all over Rekha’s body for a moment before settling back on her face, licking her lips and swallowing hard. Her mouth opened again, and Rekha waited with bated breath for the condemnation; the realization that while Rekha had no right to be upset, she had every right to feel ashamed.
“Rekha.” Kirsten said instead, eyes shining. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”
It was Rekha’s turn to freeze now, blood running cold. Out of all of Kirsten’s responses, this was the one she had expected the least, largely because, well, she knew that her friend was smart. Kirsten was kind, and caring, and far too sharp to have never figured this out before. Carefully, with the tenderness of the executioner leading a cow into the kill pen, Rekha laid it out for her.
“I asked him. I asked him about the Petrova Line. He didn’t want to talk about it, but I made him, and then I got freaked out and he had to reassure us, and then he said not to worry because all the smart people were fixing it, but he realized he was smart, too, so he should probably go help them. I mean, you were there, Kirsten, you saw his face. He thought of it because of me. Because I didn’t know when to let it go. Because I messed it up.”
Tears spilled over Kirsten’s eyelashes, so many that the tracks crisscrossed over her face at alarming speed, racing after each other as if they were hounds on the scent of a particularly good fox.
“You were twelve.” She whispered, horror thick in her voice. “Oh my God. You were a child. Have you-” her voice caught in a sob that she swallowed quickly, “have you been carrying this since you were twelve?” Rekha didn’t know what to say -- whether to start laughing or crying -- so she just nodded. Before her head could even raise Kirsten’s arms were around her, pulling her tightly into her warmth, uncaring of their awkward tangle of legs and blankets even as it caused them to fall, Rekha’s back landing on the couch while Kirsten’s solid heat pressed up against her whole body.
“You were twelve.” Kirsten muttered fiercely into Rekha’s neck, shaking her head angrily. “That was not your fault. Never your fault. Oh, baby.” She crooned as Rekha’s body started wracking with sobs, held back behind walls of guilt a decade high. “I got you. You’ve got me, and I’ve got you. Forever, okay? Forever.”
And unlike so many other ‘forever’s, whispered fearfully by people all over the world, they knew it didn’t mean ‘for the next 20 years, until the sun goes out’. Because they knew as they lay there on the couch that their science teacher was sleeping in the stars, and they knew that with him on the case, they had a long time left in ‘forever’ yet.
taglist (ask for removal!): @securitycapecreature @rabbitsartcorner @pricklythepear @idontcsharp
i died slow (running through the halls of your haunted home) MASTERLIST
"Abandonment has its own kind of grief trauma – a powerful grief universal to human beings. The grief can be acute – as when we go through the ending of a relationship, or chronic – as when we feel the impact of earlier losses and disconnection.
The natural folds in abandonment’s grief process fall into five universal stages: Shattering, Withdrawal, Internalizing, Rage, and Lifting. These stages overlap one another as part of one inexorable process of grief and recovery. They spell SWIRL which is descriptive of the cyclonic nature of this all-encompassing cloud of human emotion. Each stage affects a different aspect of human functioning and calls forth a different emotional response."
"The 5 Phases of Abandonment and Recovery: The Path of Healing" by Susan Anderson
...
or; while Ryland Grace sleeps onboard the Hail Mary, his children grow up.
CWs at the beginning of each chapter, but general CW for: abandonment/child abandonment*, mention/discussion of suicide*, canon-typical doomsdayism
*re: Grace going on the Hail Mary
Link to "The 5 Phases of Abandonment and Recovery: The Path of Healing" by Susan Anderson
thank you all for your initial support on this tumblr post
The deep grief of being a student of Ryland Grace and learning that he has gone on the mission. You are excited because he said the best minds were on it and, well, he's the smartest guy you know! And then you hear that he's not coming back in time for the school year. Or the next. Or the next. Or, well, at all.
Everyone finds out differently. Some are religiously reading everything about the mission and go still in the darkness of their beds, phone glowing in front of their face. Some of them get sat down gently by their parents, maybe even with a counselor or therapist, to explain what's happening. Still more feel like a bolt of lightning has hit them when their friends whisper the news in class.
Undeniably -- and many of them try -- the fact that haunts them is that he went up for them. For their future. For everybody's future, some manage to rationalize, but those who think too hard cannot ignore it. Not for any faceless group of children -- their names and faces and laughs and questions must have been on his mind when he said yes.
It becomes a solid weight between them all. Ex students of his feel it too. If you know someone used to know and love Dr. Ryland Grace, you drop everything to help them when they fall, even if it's just a silent hand. The older students in particular latch onto the class he disappeared on, becoming fiercely protective. New kinship is formed. When they're old enough (even 16, if their parents relent), many of them get tattoos to remember him, even as they're covered up by the increasing layers they need to go outside. A beanie ball of the Earth. Laika the dog. His glasses. The date he left. Sometimes, just a red Petrova Line.
The first year that ex students of his graduate high school, he's mentioned in the Valedictorian's speech. She wasn't even a student of his, but she's grateful that he saved her best friend's life with his care and compassion. She says she hopes that his dreams are sweet. Ryland Grace hasn't even woken up yet.
When his class graduates, there's a seat saved for him in the teacher's row. The principal, throat thick, says that Dr. Grace would be proud of all of them. People leave flowers on the seat and his students get a special tassel.
Babies start being named after him, this time by people who actually knew him. Grief doesn't fade, but the space it occupies gets smaller, turns into an extra jolt of pain when they look up at the darkening sun and know that someone very smart is up there, trying to fix it.
On his "wake-up" day, a bunch of them get together again. They forget old grievances and brush past the awkwardness that time has grown. They show how their tattoos look now. They tell stories and try to guess what alarm clock music he would pick. They try to think of how he'd react to their lives. Many of them are teachers now. One of them has a framed selfie of them on their desk. They laugh about how embarassed he'd pretend to be while being deeply touched.
Eventually, eventually, they see his face again. It's so odd -- they have grown and loved and lost and yet he looks exactly the same. Wears the same shirts. When the government brings those who want to come to a naval base to show them exclusive footage, he teaches the same way, too. They all get a hard and digital copy of the special message he left for them. It confirms what they've known all these years -- that he is happy to serve for the future that they've been having, that their kids and grandkids will have, that he hopes has been treating them well. Listening to all of his adventures, all that he has gained and done for them, it doesn't feel like blame anymore.
Did YOU have a problem with the way The Pitt S2 was written?
I'm currently writing a detailed timeline/sketch out of an alternate handling of S2 to hopefully inspire fan creators and also just as proof of concept that things could have probably been handled differently! But I need YOUR help!
Tell me your gripes about the time jump, the season, anything! It may be reimagined!
No ship content except for "canon" ones (robby and collins, mohan and abbot a bit)! :)
Emma brings her "not-so-great" boyfriend from Massachusetts to a birthday party her coworkers throw for her. They do NOT like him. Like not one bit (cause he's a total dick to Emma all night and doesn't take her career seriously at all). Maybe things heat up, tensions rise, maybe he gets really angry at Emma or her coworkers, maybe the pitt staff throw him out... maybe some Jemma or Novans crumbs are present... and Emma finally realizes how horrible her boyfriend is.
no babyshark and no "big strong man comes to save her" <- other than that go wild
If you fulfil this prompt, please reply with a link to your fanwork.
...
"“Robby’s being operated on in the OR. He fell from about four stories. They got him stable enough to go up, but he’s still critical.”
The words rang around Garcia’s skull for a moment, slipping against the edges as she struggled to comprehend them. Robby was in the OR? Robby had…
“He fell?” She said tightly, but they both knew what she was asking. Her free hand clenched the bedsheets as the line stayed silent for just a beat too long."
...
or; Garcia gets a call from Lena explaining what she's getting into in the morning.
part of my Achilles, Come Down Universe. Ending is only ambiguous if you haven't read that. No context really needed. mind the tags!
title from "Achilles, Come Down" by Gang of Youths
Robby crit edition, because he still sucks a lot in every universe lol (Robby's interactions with Mohan, Langdon, Al-Hashimi, and Whitaker through the lens of their parentage)
do not tag this content as h*cklerobby
Though Robby makes it very clear to everybody that godly parents cannot be forcibly revealed and that harassment isn't acceptable, he still holds doctors to different standards and makes inappropriate remarks based on their parents (even if only they would understand them)
All attendings have access to employee godly parent records (including those of other attendings), and charge nurses have access to the nurses'; while it's not required they know, it's extremely encouraged
He's very hard on Mohan in this way; she can occasionally sing wounds to heal them faster, and he fluctuates between demeaning its use and chastising her for holding it back:
"No need to sing, Doctor Mohan." He says one day, shaking his head as he grabs a bandage from a cart and tosses it over. "Try not to develop a crutch on special gifts when modern medicine is right here."
"You know, for someone who can sing minor wounds closed," he says a few weeks later with an exasperated laugh, "you sure take your damn time with your patients. I know it's tiring, but everyone has their advantages here and we all have to pitch in, especially if it can save us some supplies."
Robby's fake cover pretending to be a child of Hermes means that there are small expectations that he has to work harder for, like superior dexterity and light-footedness
While he's training Langdon pre-S1E10, it's a great boon to not only observe how it would naturally present itself to better imitate it, but also as a sort of projection/making Langdon into who Robby wishes he could be in regards to those talents
After Langdon's addiction is revealed, it's a source of bitter envy that Robby allows to fester. Langdon, in his mind, has had it easy; a Greek parent that gives him a massive advantage in emergency medicine that Robby is expected to maintain on his own
It starts slipping into his speech, subtle and mean remarks that he jabs at Langdon as he works. Outsiders may see it as him holding Langdon up to a higher standard as his half-brother, but Robby and Langdon both know the truth; Robby's 'breakdown' in Pedes was a clear show of non-Hermes powers, and Langdon saw with his own eyes that Robby had been lying to him, too. It makes the standards set on Langdon sting even harsher:
They've been working on a patient for minutes, Langdon doing compressions until someone else swapped in. His hands are aching, but he keeps moving, grabbing the vial they need since he's closer than the nearest nurse. From across the trauma room, he watches Robby's eyes follow his hands carefully, making sure nothing slips into his pocket while the room is distracted. Anger and hurt cause his already sore hands to shake and he almost drops the vial, fingers fumbling to catch it before he hands it off.
Robby walks over as the trauma progresses, shaking his head as he moves around him.
"Come on, Langdon. Steady hands." He mocks, voice low but still able to be overheard by the people next to them. Langdon's ears burn with shame as he reaches forward to grab supplies for the procedure, but he pushes it down as firmly as he can in order to focus on the patient.
That instance hurts more too because, whether or not Langdon has fully realized it, Robby drops vials a LOT: every time he lies about his father being Hermes, he fumbles whatever he's holding as a 'fuck you' from the god.
(S2E13 spoilers) Robby is one of only four people on the floor who know that Al-Hashimi is Roman (the others being Abbot and Shen). It hits close to home, and he's especially bitter about her lack of a cover story, instead opting not to disclose her godly parent to anybody.
He lets it bleed into his concerns about her being fit to run the ED, and accidentally slips up and mentions to Dana that he doesn't trust her because of her parentage, which Dana rips into him for immediately
He also baits Mohan into giving her thoughts about Al-Hashimi's parentage:
"Anything else?" He asks, staring Mohan down. Her brow furrows.
"Nothing, no."
"And what are your thoughts about her... parentage?" He asks. Mohan's eyebrows raise and he clenches his jaw.
"Um, I don't know anything about that. She's never mentioned it." Mohan says slowly, like he's an idiot.
"No ideas?" He prompts, anger only rising as Mohan looks on in confusion. If she was really as smart as he needed her to be, she had to have picked up on something being off during their time at the VA.
"None. She's never told. Doesn't seem to affect her work." Mohan says, and he can hear anger creeping into her voice as well. "Excuse me. This conversation is highly unprofessional." She says, and disappears back into the room before he can say anything else.
For all of his emphasis on Mohan and Langdon's godly parents, he never once presses Whitaker about skill application
Whitaker is a Son of Demeter, something he usually doesn't disclose due to it not really having bearing on his job
Robby doesn't seem to mind, and though he knows Whitaker's parentage, it doesn't seem to come up as a factor
Even though Whitaker can accelerate plant growth, something he hasn't told Robby but is a common Child of Demeter skill, Robby never tells him to go into pharmaceutical production or support programs for patients that center on gardening
In fact, Robby once helped Whitaker get over insecurity about his mother:
"I'm just... I feel like maybe I should have stayed on the farm, you know? Helped out my family. At least I could have put my skills to use there."
"Hey." Robby said, clasping Whitaker's shoulder firmly with his hand, "you have lots of skills. Most of them have nothing to do with who your godly parent is. You're shaping up to be a great doctor, Whitaker. Don't get in your head about it."
this is how I cope with recent episodes and how much my dislike for Robby grows (be mean to Robby in my AU) (he deserves it and it doesn't hurt that he has Noah Wyle's face)
looking for my pitt x pjo au? the masterlist is here!
it is empty, Achilles: Robby & The Pitt Ensemble, ■☆
engage with the pain as a motive: Garcia & Robby, ■
(this fic is technically a companion piece to "it is empty, Achilles" but can be read as a standalone!)
