Maxisanangrywell - Max Is An Angry Well.

if you want love, you're gonna have to go through the pain,

if you want love, you're gonna have to learn how to change,

if you want trust, you're gonna have to give some away.

i can’t find words for my anger right now so here’s a collection of thoughts that share the sentiment

Alternative first meeting AU in which 7 year old Johnny MacTavish is accidentally lost/separated from his family while they are on vacation in Manchester when he's found by a scrappy blond teenager with a shiner and a day-old split lip. The teen dries Johnny's tears, introduces himself as Simon, then buys him lunch and helps him find his family since he knows the city.

Two decades and change later, Simon guides Johnny to safety in yet another city, far from England, which he only realizes the moment his lieutenant finally takes off the mask.

*At Graves’ house*

Graves: Wanna go to Waffle House for waffles and violence

Price: Violence???

Graves: It’s Wednesday

Price: WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH IT?!?

back on my simon riley with rheumatoid arthritis shit.

so im getting checked out for juvenile RA, (cause if ur under 28 it's considered juvenile i believe) and its making a lot of things really difficult, so imma project on ghostie here for a bit.

TW: Stress, Stress Vomiting

Part One; Lightning

Ghost has good and bad days. On the good days, he gets to take his N-SAID, probably Celebrex, and it actually works. He doesn't get stiff much, and it doesn't feel like his hands are stuck in a really touch slime and he's trying to move them around.

On the bad days? God it sucks.

He cannot do paperwork. Holding the pen in the way he needs to sign off documents or write his own is genuinely painful. He has to force his hand open with the other when he has no choice but to sign the paperwork. (Or sometimes take his glove off and stick his hand under hot water until he can feel the stiffness recede enough to move it.)

He can still use his weapons, but it's a chore on the bad days. It's too dangerous, and so he's benched until he gets an all clear from medical as they're reviewing his x-rays to see how bad it's gotten.

He can't open soda cans anymore. Can't lift the tabs on soups or bean cans. He can't operate a can opener either. He has to get these things called Tab Buddies for the cans, and then if he has to use a can opener, he angrily passes it to Soap. (At that point, his pride is screaming at him to not eat anymore, but he needs to eat.)

They're still waiting on X-rays and he gets more imaging done, just to see truly how bad it's gotten. The positions they make him put his hands in are painful, and he feels tears prickle in his eyes as he clenches his jaw and grinds his teeth.

It keeps getting worse, and Simon quickly finds himself getting angry and depressed. Why him? Why now? He was on the top of his game, he had finally felt just a smidge of happiness, and now he had to dig up the birth certificate he never used and show it to the world the death certificate was simply for his job. To operate safely.

Now he doesn't have a job. His family is a bunch of soldiers who love their job and can continue doing it. He can't do what he loves, bringing terrorists to their knees and making them beg for the mercy they never gave others. The mercy he wouldn't give. Now, he has to confront his trauma and become a civilian. Figure out how to live with such a disability, he cannot preform basic fucking functions anymore.

How the fuck is he going to do this? If it's this bad within three years, and getting worse fast, how fucking bad is it going to be in the next year? Or next eight?

Was he even going to be able to use his hands in the next coming ten years?

Medical comes back with devastating news he knew from the get-go.

"Sorry Lieutenant, you're going to have to be honorably discharged. There's nothing we can do."

He doesn't get angry, he just feels resigned.

So, he gets discharged, and he's holding his head in his hands hyperventilating at 1 in the morning in his flat in Manchester. Crying, sobbing, beside his toilet with his mask across the tiled floor somewhere. The occasional sickness poured from his mouth into the toilet.

Fuck.

He's become everything he didn't want to be. Soon to be homeless, disabled, and how the fuck was he going to find work when fine motor skills is all he knows?

"Fuck me."

Comment on this Post if you want to be tagged whenever I post this AU!!

Pls like & reblog if you want to see more of this au. :) im really excited about this one, as the 141 are all going to have different chronic ailments. it's a story about hope and perseverance, with a little touch of romance and a shit ton of drama. Also.... Tommy, Beth and Joseph survived the Christmas Massacre, because I said so.