#But lately I had some symptoms that added to some other physical symptoms I had could be the sign of a really BAD disease

[idontplaytrack]

good problem to have

Janis ‘Imi’ike x physically disabled fem!reader

Warnings: kind of a vent writing, descriptions of chronic health & physical conditions + symptoms. Light smut, fluff, Janis being soft for reader. This oneshot took a few turns at the end- I didn’t intend on ending it the way I did😂

The following depicts the worst side of reader’s experience with a physical disability and its chain of effects. Reader discretion is advised.

Janis looks at the clock on the wall as though she was having a staring contest with it. You’d been in the shower for nearly thirty minutes and the girl had half a mind to just walk in there to keep an eye on you instead. But she held back, she stays on the other side of the door as she hears the water running.

Half an hour ago, you angrily decided to sit in the shower - a warm, no- hot shower in hopes that the heat would alleviate the squeezing pain in your ribcage caused by your rather newly diagnosed condition of Costochondritis.

Janis was with you the night you ended up in the ER because of it. She watched everything went down and it shattered her heart seeing you so helpless. You didn’t exactly remember what happened because of the amount of pain that you were in- she tells you it was better that way since the doctor practically tried to gaslight you into giving you over-the-counter pain meds and sending you right back home. That was a month ago- and this, was technically flareup number one since that night. She fought for you, because you couldn’t. You actually couldn’t even take in a full breath, let alone open your mouth and form a coherent sentence. Janis’ Mom has been a big help throughout all of this as well, seeing that she even noticed something was wrong unlike your own who barely believed you. “Is she still in there?” Damian arrives at Janis’ with their favourite pizza. And both your homework for the day that you two’d missed

“Ya think?” Janis huffs.

“Is she…”

“She didn’t pass out. I knocked and she responded but she doesn’t want to let me in there.” Janis was just ever so slightly horrified by his assumption.

“Okay, good. Well, eat first.” He shrugs, unfazed by her glare.

As Janis refused to eat first, saying you weren’t back out yet, you opened the bathroom door and walked out. “Fuck this.” You remarked as you shut the door to the bathroom. “My back already hurts because my legs are not the same length, I have fucking scoliosis and now this added on to it? Does the universe want to torture me till I die or something?” Janis seemed unfazed on the outside, but inside she was actually so worried (she wouldn’t admit it to anyone). This never was a good sign, and the damage control needed to be fast. To top it all off, Damian’s never been around to witness such ‘episodes’.

Janis knew you didn’t really mean what you said, it was more so in the moment of anger, frustration and more importantly, the constant nagging pain then random weeks in the year where you would get heightened levels of the pain due to a ‘flareup’. How does it happen? You would have usually have done something to push yourself too much- whether or not either of you have realised it. And full disclosure, a big risk to take would be bedroom activities. You usually did not care until it was too late and end up pushing through the next few days with what feels like your whole body aching.

“Shit, I did not see you here, Damian.” You let out a soft gasp, a hand clutching at your chest.

“I wanted pizza. I sent him a text, and here he is.” Janis grins, “Sit down, lovey.” You did, eyeing the box Damian’s placed on the coffee table.

“I bought our favourite- trust me, we need this.” He joked, “They even gave us free garlic knots.”

“Oh, hell yes.” Janis rummages through the paper bag for some of that bread first while you reached for a slice of the pepperoni and sausage pizza.

“Hey, guys.” Janis’ mom was home. Damian and Janis greet her almost in unison, while you gave her a wave without saying a thing. “How are you feeling, y/n? Any better?”

“Barely.” You revealed.

“You came home to grab your lunch, didn’t ya?” Janis chuckled.

“Yeah.” Her Mom laughs, “Forgot it this morning. You guys need anything before I go?”

“I think we’re good.” Janis answers after pondering for a second, observing you and Damian as well.

“Alright. If your Ma calls the home phone, please pick up and let me know. Some guy at the coffee shop spilled his coffee on her and the phone’s a goner.” Janis’ Mom informed.

“Alright, well- did she back up her stuff?” Janis’ eyes widened for a beat.

“Yeah, but it’s just that she doesn’t have time right now to get a new phone.”

“Oh, okay. Get back to work, I wouldn’t want you to be late.” Janis shrugs, one of her hands on your back as you ate.

Her Mom flashes a smile, nodding, “I’ll pick up Ma on my way back from work, we’ll be buying dinner too. You guys are welcome to join us.” After Damian says he couldn’t— since he’d already promised his family that he’d be home by dinner, Janis’ Mom leaves with her lunch to go back to work.

————

Janis and Damian were engaged in a conversation over lunch, you on the other hand were more focused on whether or not you could make it through more of the day without relying on pain meds. They tasted foul and made you feel even worse- yes, even with the pain gone, the Tramadol gave you pretty bad nausea even after taking an anti-emetic. And you, having emetophobia would rather not go through that.

You were fine- you weren’t gonna collapse or anything, you were just in a lot of pain and physically uncomfortable. It was pretty much all you could feel, especially every time you took in a breath even slightly deeper. “Stay with me till this flareup is over.” Janis announced to you, “Your parents aren’t in town, and your sisters…I don’t trust them to be accountable for you. Don’t fight me on this.”

“Alright.” You agreed curtly, putting your plate containing a half-eaten slice on the coffee table, then you just curled up in a corner. “I’ll finish it later.”

“Yeah, sure, baby.” Janis smiled briefly, mouth full of food. Damian chuckled at her talking with her mouth full, earning a playful shove from the ravenette. You managed to fall asleep with their company, thank god. But when you woke up, it was just Janis alone.

“I made you some tea, y/n. Should help your chest pain some.” She hands you a mug, which you gladly took a few sips out of before putting down. “Thanks.” A warm beverage always alleviates your chest pain- the heat from it helps once you’d consumed it. Since it goes down your throat, it basically kinda just, spreads to your chest. “No problem, lovey.” She sits down beside you, putting the TV remote nearer to you in case you felt like watching something.

Here’s how it was: You couldn’t close a door behind yourself, you couldn’t wear a seatbelt on your own, you couldn’t stretch in any way because it would trigger a sharp pain in your chest. The condition was by definition, an inflammation of the cartilage of the ribcage. Thus, causing the pain. Even a cough or a sneeze would have you cursing and swearing, if not on the verge of tears. Little every day tasks are a huge challenge for you now, and it would be like this at every flare up. You hated that had to rely on her or someone else for such minuscule things. It made you feel useless.

While you finished up the tea, she was eating a bag of chips. It was evident to her that you were still in pain. When you first started experiencing it, you had it for a full week before it got unbearable and you had ended up in the ER. The worst part? Probably the physical exam where the doctor pressed down on your ribs and quite literally made you cry. But it did however, confirm your diagnosis. So you were glad you weren’t just seemed as ‘dramatic’(like the ER initially thought you were) and it made your Mom shut up about those remarks after Janis’ mother handed her the memo from the doctor. “I’m…really sorry. I just feel like shit and very unlike myself.”

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not, I’ve been such a bitch.”

“Look who you’re talking to.” She exhales, “I don’t care if you’re ‘ruder than usual’, you’re in a lot of pain right now, and you’re someone who’s already dealing with chronic pain from your legs and your scoliosis, whatever else…I get it. I see you going through every day and I don’t care if you’re sometimes gonna be a little snappy. A little grouchy. Or if you’re gonna wanna cry. It’s fair- seeing that I myself, and other people who don’t have to deal with chronic illnesses or pain.”

You quietly listen, closing your eyes while taking some shallow breaths. “I actually feel like dying. If this is what the rest of my life will be like, I’d just be a burden. Well, more of it.”

“Baby, you- oh my God, every day. You’re dealing with symptoms that would send regular people straight to the ER. So whatever you need, let me know. Take your anger out on me, I don’t care. I already told you I would do anything for you.” Janis continues.

“You’re so sweet.” You sniffled, a little too hard.

“Only for you, baby.” She winked, her hand on your knee.

You mentioned, “You know, I got my period while I was in the shower.”

“Which would explain the extra pain.” Janis scoffs, her hand stops at your lower back, giving you the needed warmth. “More hormones…more pain, which sucks, but in the meantime…you wanna watch some TV?”

You declined, “I just…wanna sit here with you.”

“Anything you want.” She kisses you softly on the cheek.

“My whole life, I’ve been the sick child. And now things just got worse.” You said to her while you feel her arm gently wrap around your waist, “I guess some days I just let the worst thoughts get the best of me. When I say I want…to die, it’s just that I want to stop suffering. I can’t focus or do anything when I’m in pain in makes me feel like nothing.”

“I hear you and I got you, okay?” Janis cups your cheeks with both hands, “I don’t understand fully, what you’re going through but I see how hard things get for you and I will always be here to help you- with anything. Okay? And Damian. He cares, I care. We love you. Hm? Don’t ever feel like you’re bothering people - we all need help sometimes and I just fucking love you and would do anything if I could make it better.”

You were already emotional, being on your period, hearing her say all that just made you feel like crying even more. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Here’s one thing you need to remember in times like these- I will be here for you, no matter the time of day. Call me, or text me. Whatever. But I will always, always have time for you.” Janis had her hands in your own, kissing them.

————

Now it was after dinner, so her Moms were in their room. And you, were in Janis’ room with her. You were laying down, your head in her lap as she massaged your aching head. “Janis.” You looked up at her. She glances at you, “Yeah?”

“You know how they say sex would help with cramps?”

“I heard.” She responded nonchalantly.

“Can you help me?” You asked straightforwardly after a brief silence.

“I can, if that’s what you want. But you’d definitely be in quite a bit of pain afterwards, everywhere else.” She raised a brow, a hand on your torso.

“I’m already in pain. Might as well make myself…feel good.” You sigh.

“You’ve got a point.” She hums, “I can definitely help you out. Just gotta go grab some towels.”

“You really don’t mind?” You asked her cautiously.

“Yeah.” Janis confirmed, “I have hands, I have vibrators…some blood’s not gonna scare me.”

You chuckled, “Okay. Ah, shit. That hurt.”

“Just…lay down and look pretty for me.” She winks, slowly shifting you onto the mattress fully so she could get off the bed and retrieve the towels.

After locking the doors and washing her hands, Janis lays the towel beneath you, carefully leaning down to kiss you while holding herself up on her palms. “You can stop me at anytime, alright?”

You nod, kissing her back. She began stripping each article of clothing off of you, carefully, watching your face to make sure she doesn’t hurt you. You kiss her this time, starting to feel your need for her grow rapidly. It really does not take you long when you were on your period. She stuck her tongue in your mouth, it exploring every little bit of it eagerly. You moaned into the kiss soon enough, and she takes it as her cue to do more. The back of her hand brushes over your nipples, the whimper you let out and expression on your face tells her they were way too sensitive. She leaves them alone, choosing to attack the known sensitive spots on your neck instead. She elicits the sounds of approval out of you extremely easily, as you feel the familiar rush between your legs. Reaching for a small bullet-shaped vibrator, she turns it on and presses it to your clit gently. You gasp, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head as you got giddy with pleasure.

“You’re okay?”

“Still good.” You let out a strained reply. She breaks away from you completely, getting off of her bed. Then, she pulls you down to near the edge of the mattress, along with the towel. Grabbing your ankles, she was knelt on a rug, pushing them up as gently as she could, mindful about your hurting right hip. She’s never done this before, but you trusted her with your life. So you went with it. You feel her fingers tracing the stretch marks on your thighs, making you squirm because you were ticklish. She kisses you on your inner thighs several times before you felt her fingers teasing your folds. You whimpered, feeling her so close to where you needed her the most. She held your ankles together for a bit as she slid two fingers into you without trouble, pumping them in and out as her thumb rubbed circles on your clit. You were like a melted puddle under her touch, you wanted to moan, but you remembered her parents were only a couple doors down so you had a fist on your mouth to keep yourself quiet,

“It’s okay. You don’t have to do that.” She tells you, looking at you right in the eye. Her voice, it was so gentle and sweet…like honey, or a lullaby.

“Your Moms are home.” You reminded.

“They don’t care.” She stated, all this while her hands don’t stop. Your legs, now sloppily laid on her shoulders as she held the vibrator with that hand and returned it to its spot on your clit, adding on to the stimulation. And with her also curling her fingers upward to hit your g-spot, your release was even closer. “I want to hear you, my love.” She requested as she turned the small vibrator off and put it aside on the towel. Her fingers still hard at work as her free hand reached over to a draw in her nightstand to locate a thicker vibrator. She doesn’t turn it on, but instead she asks if she could use that in place of her fingers. You agreed, desperately wanting to get your release. The stretch you felt caused you to give her a throaty moan, but it didn’t hurt a bit, thanks to the extra lubrication. With every thrust, the more high-pitched your whimpers became. Until, they became actual moans that just couldn’t stop. You could feel her twisting it in between thrusts, it made you feel insanely good. It was never that easy until this time every month, especially not with this minimal foreplay. Her thrusts became harsher at the end as you felt the coil in your core, it felt so intense- it actually kind of ached. As you unraveled, she removes the vibrator and her fingers took over again, helping you down from your high.

When she helped you get up and into the shower, you caught a look of the aftermath, which wasn’t as horrific as you thought it would be. “I’ll be in with you in a minute, okay. Just be careful.”

“I’ll be fine.” You assured, sitting down on a ledge in the bathroom where her bottles of shampoo, conditioner and body wash usually sat. She dumps the towels in a pail filled with hot water. You couldn’t actually see anything on them because they were black coloured towels so that saved you from overthinking how the mess looked.

————

She returns to the bathroom with two sets of clothes for the both of you, leaving them on the countertop of the sink. Janis closes the door. “Hi, pretty girl.” She cooed, hopping into the shower with you.

“Hi.” You smiled in return.

You reached for the body wash, but she stops you, saying she’d do it for you. Well, and every other step of the shower. Suddenly, you got an idea. She’s helped you out, so you thought it was time for her turn. As she stood before you, her chest barely above your eye-line, your hand finds its way to her hip. “What ya doin’?” She asks you with a chuckle as she squeezes some of the body wash onto a loofah. The smell of lavender and camomile feels the air of the steamy shower. You took a careful breath- you loved this fragrance. “Do you want me to…y’know You ask, “You helped me out, I think it’s fair if I help you out now.”

She smirked. “I’m gonna say yes to that.”

Your pointer and middle fingers slide down her folds, you let out a quiet gasp feeling that she was wet. You had it down to a science, how to make her come. It did not take you more than fifteen minutes to have her be asking to come. You let her, without resistance, since she’d make it so easy for you earlier.

She lets out a giddy little laugh, helping you stand up from your seat on the ledge, “I love you.” Janis captures your lips into her own, giving you a lingering kiss as she presses her forehead against your own.

You fell asleep much, much easier that night. She wore you out- that, coupled with your typical tiredness you felt on your period. Before you could feel your pain in a plethora of locations amp up its intensity, you’d succumbed to slumber, feeling Janis doodle circles and other silly shapes on your back with her fingers. “I love you, Janis.” You mumbled sleepily as your eyelids drooped shut.

“I love you so much, baby.” She said wholeheartedly, that being the last thing you heard before falling asleep. Janis doesn’t stop tracing random shapes on your clothed back as for a few minutes, but she mentally ran through a checklist of the stuff she’d left on her desk- stuff that you’d need just in case: water, your medications, some snacks in case you needed to take the meds, plastic bags, heat packs and even the medicated pain relief plasters her Mom got you. You grumbled that it was a lot of work for her but she said it was no trouble. You felt bad, but she tells you not to. She always won. Whenever you were ill or brought down by cramps before this new condition took over and gave sick days a whole new meaning, she’d always make the time to take care of you. Even in school, she’d make the day go by easier for you by subtly doing whatever she could think of…sneaking you little individually wrapped pieces of your favourite chocolate or candy, bringing Advil or Tylenol in her bag with her for the week, even just by asking if you were okay so you knew that she cared and that she was aware that you were sick or having your monthly cycle so you could ask her for help if needed. You never did openly ask her for help, per se. But instead she’d ask if you needed anything because she just knew. Janis could read you like a book after having started off as best friends. She knew just how you behaved whenever you had something on your mind or whenever you weren’t at 100%.

Your Mother’s warned her that you were a big problem to deal with, as though you weren’t a human being with feelings. She bluntly told your Mother that even if you had problems, she didn’t give a shit the way your Mom did. She’d actually make sure you were treated with care. The night Janis got into it with your Mom, she made you a promise to always be looking after you and you told her you’d do the same for her. Neither of you have once broke that promise, which surprised your Mother to no end but slowly caused her to back off. Very unwillingly. Especially since you’ve learnt that, the lesser time you spent at home, the better it was for you. If being with Janis taught you one thing, it was to be unapologetically yourself and always standing up to the people who would treat you badly — that’s two, technically. But you get it. You were not a plaything for others to manipulate for their own enjoyment or benefit.

Everyone you passed in your life since knowing Janis, called her a danger, a problem, or just… ‘bad’, but you disagreed. To you, she was the opposite of those terms. Even when she had her little moments where she’d threatened to rip the head off of a school bully or break their jaw for each mean passing remark. That was her way of caring for people that mattered to her, because she knew that if she just let it go, those bullies kept going day after day. She had to show them that she meant what she said. And you loved her for that. And many other reasons, like how happy she made you, but yeah. You were her problem, and she was yours. As she said, playing along with your Mother’s words. Her wit - your Mother was no match to her. Janis will always have a comeback and Damian always enjoys witnessing such a situation. While you were soundly asleep, Janis stayed up thinking about the night your Mom called you a problem. She could not let that shit go as hard as she tried. Those words were as good as tattooed on her mind and she detested that.

‘You made her a problem. You caused her to have anxiety and be in ‘bad moods’. None of this is her fault entirely. How could you treat your daughter like that? You didn’t even call or text to check on her once.’ Janis thought.

She watches you sleep as her thoughts ran through her mind. Feeling the anger bubbling up, she takes a few deep breaths to calm herself down, scooting closer to you quietly to hold you in her arms.

‘You want to call her a problem? Fine. So be it. She’s a good problem to have. Screw you.’ Janis thought again.

“Nothing will ever make me mad at you.” She mumbles to herself, brushing the hair out of your face, “Good night, sweet girl.”

[camp-counselor-life]

Mental Health Month for Camp Staff

Ok, so May is Mental Health Month and I made a post a while back that I wasn't sure I would do anything for it (universe knows I did very little for every other awareness month this year). But here we are, late May, and I am ready to write this post.

I think the best question to ask here is "What role does camp play in mental health?" And there's so many places to go with this question. We can break it down further by talking about the role it plays for camper mental health, for staff, and even for parents. Honestly, most of us are probably very aware that camp plays a role in mental health, even if we can't articulate it. So here goes, here are some ways that camp impacts mental health:

It is an escape to a safe place. This is probably the most obvious one, because so many people talk about camp being their safe space or their escape from the troubles of life. Camp is a safe space though, and we as camp staff are a big part of making that.

It promotes healthy social connections. Camp is built around developing healthy group dynamics and friendships. How many of us have met close friends through camp?

It creates a sense of routine and consistency. Camp might be chaos, but it's got its own rhythms and rituals, both for staff and campers. Flag, meals, bedtime and wake times, all of these are fairly consistent throughout the weeks and months of camp.

It supports conversations with emotional fluency. We are pros at navigating friendship issues at camp, so campers benefit, but staff also not only get training and practice in this emotional fluency (I hope), they also model it with coworkers, often with the help of more senior staff.

It provides a caring, supportive adult. This one might sound like it only applies to the kiddos, but hear me out. In the camp environment, most of us find some sort of caring support, either campers from a camp staff or camp staff from each other.

It supports healthy coping skills. Camp is plentiful with coping skills and lessons, although they probably aren't presented that way. We love journaling, reflections, and gratitude practices. Not to mention time in nature, social time, and more activities that are built into the camp day.

It supports time outdoors and active time. Physical activity, in whatever form you do it, helps promote mental wellness. For me it has greatly reduced my anxiety and mood symptoms (even if it's not 100%) and has had the added bonus of creating a habit that puts me in contact with my neighbors. Activity is a part of camp I loved, and a lot of people find their favorite ways to move through experiences, which they may not have without camp.

It is an opportunity to be silly and laugh. Those Pinterest quotes that say laughter is the best medicine might be on to something. The happiness that many of us feel at camp, regardless of position, can't be discounted for it's benefits.

I'm sure there are even more benefits. Have a great rest of your May and into your summer!

[blubushie]

you have aspd? youve never mentioned it before

I've never mentioned it purely because the internet isn't entitled to every last bit of my medical or psychiatric information, but yes. I was diagnosed with ASPD, suspected nomadic subtype (though I also express some paranoia-related malevolent traits) when I was 18.

My determining symptoms were (better be thankful for this cuz I had to get my fucken paperwork out):

"Failure to conform to social norms with respect to lawful behaviours" I got in fights a lot in high school, I wagged school, I frequently ran away from home even after being threatened with gaol time if I continued, and I was suspended a lot for being late--being late to things specifically is a middle ground because "being late" is also an ADHD thing but at least now I have a complex about Never Being Late To Anything.

"Deceitfulness, as indicated by use of aliases" 9/10 times if someone asks me my name I'm giving them a fake name in case I was in trouble for something. I still do this. Covers my back. Once I stop being strangers with someone they get Blu or my legal.

"Impulsivity or inability to plan ahead" I'm great at making plans even though it's hard to stick to them. I'm very impulsive though.

"Irritability and aggressiveness, as indicated by repeated physical fights or assaults" It's specifically repeated physical fights (and verbal arguments with my parents). I don't typically start fights but I do end them. That said my relationship with my parents is much better now that I don't live with my mum.

"Reckless disregard for safety of self" It's specifically disregard for my own safety. Though it was noted that I was "highly sympathetic" to the safety of others. (I will drive recklessly on a dirt track by myself but I am a highly vigilant driver on common roads.)

"Lack of remorse, as indicated by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt or mistreated another." This one's one that my therapist wasn't sure on because my mood fluctuates so much. There's times I won't feel remorse in the moment but will feel remorse after, there's days I feel remorse for nothing and wake up with a mentality of "everyone is on my shit list" where the smallest fuck-up will set me off and I feel zero remorse after, and there's days where I'm constantly apologising for every little thing. We've approached the possibility of me being bipolar though, so it's possible that the remorse fluctuations are simply bipolar mania and depression working their cycle. However my therapist also mentioned that my perception of remorse might be skewed, because when I'm apologising for something I take on a "passive approach" so it seems less like I'm actually remorseful and more that I just don't want someone to be angry or upset with me. If you ask me, I feel bad for upsetting them so yeah, of course I'm gonna apologise. She was right about my passiveness though--a lot of times if I feel I've fucked up with someone, I'll continue being passive with them because I feel I owe it to them to let them be an arsehole to me. Anyhow, the jury's out on my lack of remorse, but what I'm confirmed to have is a "considerate lack of empathy." So that's neat. Also adding on it was hard for my therapist to figure this one out because I usually feel justified in the actions I take, and there's a difference between lack of remorse knowing you've hurt someone, and lack of remorse because you feel you were justified in your actions against or toward them, especially in cases of defending yourself. (For example, "I don't feel bad for hitting him because he knows I have CPTSD and I react violently to people startling me from behind, therefore it's not my fault and he knew the risk he was taking so I don't feel bad.") Apparently she couldn't get a straight answer out of me and I was "avoiding" the topic, so I'm written down as lack of remorse. Personally I'd argue against that cuz I feel a lot of remorse about a lot of things, it's just that often I feel I'm entirely justified in whatever I've done and therefore shouldn't feel bad about something.

The jury's also out on whether or not I have an addictive personality. Up until my diagnosis I'd been doing shrooms (I still do shrooms) but I used them responsibly as they're non-addictive. However I was expressing behavioural addictions like dermatophagia and dermatillomania for years (a habit I didn't break until two years ago), and trichotillomania when I was around 12, but my psychiatrist thought that all of these may have been a symptom of the OCD I'm suspected to have instead of my ASPD, or maybe a combination of both. While I've used addictive drugs, I practise harm reduction to prevent myself from becoming addicted. Alcoholism is the only legitimate addiction I've ever had, but apparently my sexual proclivities can be filed under reckless behaviour, so I'm really not doing myself any favours here. 😅

[cleo-fox]

The “When Are You Updating?” Ask

I should say up front that this isn’t in response to anything I received. This topic came up in a Discord server that I’m in and another friend of mine got a similar ask shortly after.

I’ve alluded to the fact that this Tumblr isn’t my first account and that I’ve written for other fandoms previously. What I haven’t talked about is why I’m taking an extended hiatus from that fandom or why the majority of my work in this one has been one shots.

Historically, I’ve been a long fic writer. On my other pen name, I posted a long fic that had a fairly decent following in that particular corner of fandom. I’m a slow writer under normal circumstances but when the pandemic hit, I started having more trouble writing and my updates slowed a lot. I worked in a public facing role and the stress I was experiencing was unlike anything I’d ever dealt with before. About a year into the pandemic, I got pregnant.

To sum it up: I was pregnant, which put me at a higher risk for developing complications from Covid. I was working in a public facing role, which increased my risk of catching Covid and had the added factor of people being aggressive about not complying with mask mandates. Because of my pregnancy, I was not able to take critical medications, which then negatively affected my focus and energy levels. I was dealing with other chronic illnesses that were exacerbated or changed by pregnancy, as well as the physical symptoms of pregnancy itself. Then there was also the delivery, which had complications, as well as adjusting to life with a newborn and then going back to work.

I was upfront about all of this. I said that my fics weren’t abandoned, but that I didn’t know when the next update would be because I was dealing with a lot.

I still got asks asking why hadn’t I updated yet.

I knew that these asks came from a good, well-intentioned place. I loved that people were so excited about my writing that they wanted to read more. I loved that they cared so deeply about my characters. I didn’t want to sound ungrateful for their enthusiasm or their support, nor did I want to initiate a pile on with a snarky reply or make someone feel bad for asking a genuine question. I often struggled with how to word my replies, to find a way to be grateful for their enthusiasm while also reiterating that I had a lot on my plate and that I would write more someday, but that I didn’t know when someday was.

It didn’t seem to matter, though. No matter how many times I said the same thing, the asks still kept coming. The worst ones were the ones that scolded me for taking so long because the sender didn’t know how long they would be in this fandom or the ones that included the phrase “I know you had a baby but…” Those hurt. Those made me feel like people saw me as a content creation machine and not like a person.

Eventually, this started to negatively impact my desire to interact with that community, as well as my desire to write that story. When you log in and you know that there’s a good chance your inbox is going to have one of those notes, it’s hard to feel enthusiastic about logging in at all.

So I decided that I needed to take a break. I still check that pen name every so often and I still intend to finish those other fics, but I need some time. This pen name was created out of a desire to give myself the space to write on my own terms, and I’m grateful for all the people here who have let me do that.

And honestly? If you want a writer to update, it is far, far more effective to talk about what you love about their fic. There are so many times when I’ve been pulled out of a writing slump by a comment or reblog where someone talked about what they enjoyed about my fic. That kind of engagement is more motivating than a request for an update could ever be.

There’s that one post going around with the compilation of crazy AO3 author’s notes—the ones that are like “sorry this chapter is a day late, I spent the night in federal prison lmao.” It’s a great post and I love that there are people like that. I admire people who can create art despite their circumstances. But for every writer like that, there’s someone like me who’s going through some shit and doesn’t have the time or energy to write the same way that she does when things are going okay. I wish people would remember that.

TLDR: be kind.

[bodybeyondstories]

Growth Notes 1 - Omar

I had this weird idea for a growth/macro series of short one-offs and vignettes, but told through the perspective of a therapist.

This starts with Omar, who is working through his changes with his partner, Marcus, and adjusting to an overabundance of dick.

Others in this series: Trevor | Sky

MaleTF // dick growth // growth // macro

“Anyways, thanks for seeing us on such short notice, it’s kind of hard to find a specialist for…Aughhh!” Omar was cut off by a burst of visible discomfort, his face scrunching up in concentration, as if he was trying to physically hold himself together.

“Babe, another one? That’s the third time this week,” said Marcus, resting his hand gently on his partner’s thigh.

“Fourth, actually,” responded Omar, with a wry grimace in his Marcus’s direction. He grabbed his hand, looking flushed. “I’m fine, really.”

“Let me get you some water,” I interrupted, getting out of my seat to retrieve some bottles of store-brand mineral water from the mini fridge in the corner of my office.

“No, no, I’m really fine,” said Omar, holding his hands up, pleading for everyone to just chill. “But thank you,” he relented, taking the bottle from my outstretched hand. As he slipped off the cap and started downing its contents, looking visibly relieved in the face of his sudden discomfort, I made a mental note that maybe Omar was too good at putting on a brave face. Sometimes my patients can have a hard time opening up or even admitting unease, which isn’t uncommon when it comes to this condition.

“If you don’t mind me asking, was that a symptom of the disorder?” I asked. “I’m not a medical doctor, I just take care of the therapy and counseling side of things,” I explained. “But also, there’s still a lot we don’t know about…all this.”

I’m a therapist, and I specialize in body issues, especially when it comes to sudden changes. Usually, that’s focused on recovering emotionally from major surgeries or injuries, helping people rediscover their bodies and adjust to the new rhythms of their lives. But increasingly, I’ve gotten referrals for this…Macro Syndrome? I’m not sure what the exact name is, but that’s what people have been calling it. The causes are still unclear and the treatment is experimental at best, but from what I can tell, it’s some sort of growth spurt that’s been hitting men randomly, usually in their late-20s or older.

At first I didn’t believe it. The thing is that the majority of cases just resemble a late growth spurt, but a small percentage end up being much more, even going so far as to limit patients’ abilities to live normal lives. For a while there had been chatter on social media and various sites, but the more severe cases looked like well-done fakes, which I have a good eye for (but don’t get me wrong, I love a good morph). But then the referrals started trickling in, and I began to adjust my practice to helping clients with this mysterious disorder.

So in this case Marcus had reached out, concerned that his partner, Omar, recently diagnosed, wasn’t taking this seriously enough. This happens fairly regularly. Even after the physical changes are evident, a patient will often deny or downplay any emotional issues until their partner hears from a friend of a friend and sends them to me. In this case, I suggested they come in together, reasoning that it would be good for them to work through these changes as a team.

At 6’6”, Omar was sizeable, but nothing truly out of the ordinary, even with the added caveat that he, at 27, had been only 6’1” a few months earlier. But what was interesting in this case was that it wasn’t the usual gradual change, but instead these…

“Flashes, I call them,” explained Omar. “It’s like my body tenses up and I get really hot and then…well, my clothes don’t fit like they used to.”

“Can I ask how it feels when it’s happening?” I inquired. “You looked like you were in pain.”

“Honestly, it’s not that bad. It’s starting to feel kind of good, actually. It’s just…things get to be very constricting...”

“Which is also why we’re here,” added Marcus. “Our sex life has taken some turns,” he said, with a wry smile in Omar’s direction.

“Well, yeah,” said Omar. “When it started I didn’t think it was a big deal or anything. A late growth spurt or something. But then there was…this,” he said, gesturing to his crotch.

When Omar pushed aside the flaps of his trench coat, my eyes settled on what I had previously assumed was a cute shoulder bag sitting in his lap. And it sort of was. Or had been. But was, I assumed, recently altered to be repurposed as camouflage for…a very large bulge.

Omar wasn’t my first patient whose growth was disproportionate. Or who had had to find increasingly creative ways to shield view of what was otherwise a comically large protrusion splitting the seams of their already-worn-down-twice-altered pants. But this was the first whose mind blowing growth I got to witness in real time.

“Oof,” muttered Omar, his face a dance of discomfort and reluctant pleasure, as the shaft of his dick lurched ever so slightly farther down his thigh, the head getting dangerously close to surpassing his knee. “Aftershocks.”

“It happened again?” gasped Marcus.

“It happened again,” said Omar, his eyes affixed to the ridiculous pipe constrained in his pants.

“Now that was out of the ordinary,” I thought out loud, my eyes still reeling from the sight of the massive bulge in Omar’s well-worn denim, itself showing that telltale patch of worn crotch, except at a comic scale. You could see the history of unexplained growth through every frayed strip.

“Yeah. It hit me mostly in my dick. They don’t know why. I guess it’s better than some of those dudes that grow through the ceiling, but doc…it’s not slowing down. I usually need to wear compression shorts all the time now, and sometimes I feel like I can almost hear them straining, like my dick’s about to pulse through them. Not to mention this thing might break my boyfriend in half.”

“At first I loved it,” Marcus cut in. “But after a while, we had to slow down.”

“All the way down,” added Omar. “I’ve read about some of the other…cases, like this, there were some series injuries. Some of those guys…” Omar trailed off, glancing pointedly at his dick with a mixture of apprehension, worry, and awe.

I offered a reassuring gesture, saying “It’s best to not fall down Internet rabbit holes on this, you’re just going to exacerbate your own anxiety. And this likely won’t end up being a serious case.”

“It sure feels serious,” said Omar, his look of worry shifting from his massive member towards me. “I could probably work from home if it gets bad enough, but I still go out in public. And it’s getting harder to hide this thing. We went to our favorite bar a few nights ago to have some fun and catch up with the girls and get our minds off things, but I was…a little overstimulated.”

“Nowadays, when he gets going he really gets going,” said Marcus.

“And we have to take care of it before it makes a scene,” added Omar, rolling his eyes.

“So Omar gets that look on his face and I take us to a private bathroom. And I was feeling flexible that night.”

“And it got…all the way in.”

“Which we haven’t been able to do in a while.”

“And it felt soooo good, but then,” he paused, caressing his lover’s hand. “I had an episode.”

“It was like I could feel it growing inside me, I didn’t know how I could hold it all.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, Omar,” I said, “how did it feel?”

“Dizzy?” he responded, tucking his head in introspection. “I mean usually I have this rush of intense heat and maybe a…prickly sensation along my skin, and I can feel my heart pounding through my entire body, but this time it was disorienting. Like when you stand up too fast or the blood rushes from your head or whatever and then suddenly it was like I lost control…”

“Control of what?”

“Of my dick,” he said, gesturing to his over-full crotch. “Like I’m always trying to hold it back, hold my entire body together, but then I let go and it extends further.”

“That must be a weird feeling to get used to.”

“I’d rather not have to get used to it,” said Omar, with a nervous chuckle. “We have to find more and more creative ways to hide this thing, and it’s not like the other growth hasn’t come with its own issues. People at work are kind of starting to notice, and I don’t want rumors getting around that I have a bad case.”

“I take it you’re not the only one at your workplace with the disorder.”

“Well I guess now I am, but I’m not the first…” he drifted off. “So I work in shipping and logistics, and I used to be one of the guys on the floor, but they stuck me in management last year, my own cubicle and everything. One of the warehouse guys, Jeff, got hit by it hard.”

“Jeff, your coworker, had the syndrome? It can be good to have a colleague who’s already been through it. But it sounds like he’s no longer there?”

“Well. He hung in there for as long as he could until there were one too many incidents.”

“Like what? If you don’t mind sharing.”

Omar shifted his posture, leaning back in his chair, his eyes searching the ceiling as if to gather his thoughts together in some sort of workable, believable story.

“So here’s the thing,” he said, after a sustained pause. “Jeff, before, was like 5’6”, 5’7” maybe, so from early on there was really no hiding it. We had went out for drinks to celebrate his 30th birthday when we really started noticing the changes. At that point he was just shy of 5’10”, but growing fast. At work we would tease him for a while, but it was pretty lighthearted, I think. You’re finally tall enough to operate the forklift. Stuff like that. And we started lending him spare boots and pants that were a few sizes above his usual. He would always wait too long to adjust his clothes, kept saying Nah, it’s fine, the growth should actually stop soon. And then, of course, he would burst right through the seat of his pants. At one point he would just rip the sleeves off his shirt and get back to what he was doing. Honestly, we thought it was funny.”

“So it was a welcoming environment.”

“Yeah, I guess. We thought it was cool, and so did he, and after he hit 6’3” we started measuring his height every week. But his feet,” Omar leaned forward with a burst of focus, eyes wide open and hands splayed farther and farther apart, “were really the showstoppers. They were already big for his size, before, I think like 13s, but they seemed like they were growing faster than the rest of him. And the rest of him was really growing. So we had to start getting specially made work uniforms, which wasn’t a huge deal, but eventually sourcing work boots above a size 19 became more and more of a hassle. We all started pooling money together to keep getting his uniform adjusted so he didn’t get fired, but once he passed like, eight feet maybe, he couldn’t really operate the machinery all that well. He also stopped letting us measure him, didn’t think it was funny anymore. Which was understandable…”

“So why did he leave?”

“Hmmm, well at one point, he was massive, easily over 11 feet. And was having a lot of trouble getting used to his new size, especially with those feet. Sometimes shoe companies will do little sponsorship deals for people with the syndrome, free advertising or whatever, but even that has its limits. Also he just became too big to do a lot of tasks, and the company got tired of making adjustments. So they convinced him to take some time off…and…I don’t think we’ve heard from him in a bit.”

“He’s probably fine,” Marcus cut in with a reassuring glance. “Just figuring things out,” he added, turning to me with a look of expectant affirmation.

“Life changes like that can happen in more serious cases, but people are usually better at adjusting than they think they’ll be,” I offered.

“Yeah, yeah, I guess,” said Omar in tepid agreement, his eyes glancing anxiously at his crotch.

---

A few months later, they came in for their usual appointment. They had missed the last couple because life gets in the way, so I was anxious to catch up. Marcus led the way, Omar following behind in his now usual trench coat and shoulder bag carefully positioned in front. He had developed a habit of walking closely behind his lover to avoid any unwanted attention, but as settled into his chair with mild discomfort, I realized that that technique had already become obsolete. The good news was that they were pretty certain that the growth had finally stopped, his height topping out just over 6’10”, nothing compared to the gargantuan stature of his coworker. But when it came to their respective endowments, he probably blew Jeff out of the water. As he settled into his seat, he tried—and failed—to inconspicuously resist bending his knees, instead opting to hold his legs out straight to the floor, crossing one ankle lightly over the other with what seemed to be a carefully practiced performance of nonchalance.

“It’s okay, everyone stares nowadays.”

With his permission, I let my eyes wander along the length of pipe that now ran from his crotch down…and down…and down, to the outline of a bulbous head nestled against his shin.

“You get used to it,” he added, a wry smile lighting up his face, the creases around his eyes looking ever so slightly deeper than they had before.

“And your job?” I asked.

“They’re letting me work from home mostly. Which is great, because wearing pants these days is kind of…an adventure. But I do spend some time in the office and management has been surprisingly chill about everything, especially since I can still fit in the building.” He pressed his lips together as his mouth settled into a line of mild worry, his brows furrowed.

“Well…at least it’s no Jeff situation,” I said. “It was Jeff, right? The one who went away to—”

“Yeah. He’s way out of town now. Haven’t talked to him in a while, it’s kind of hard for him to use a phone now, I guess. But at the least growth stopped.”

“They think,” Marcus interjected.

“We hope,” Omar added. “It’d be good to see him again.” His pensive face settled into a look of slight consternation directed at the floor.

With a playfully bemused glance at Omar’s crotch, Marcus said “Yeah, he could help us take care of Mr. Big down there.”

Marcus’s look turned serious and calculative, and I quickly realized why as I noticed Omar’s cock pulsing ever so slightly down his pant leg, seemingly with every heartbeat.

“I don’t want to cut us short,” said Marcus, with a quick glance in my direction, “but I also don’t want to ruin your bathroom.”

As Marcus had mentioned at our first session—and subsequent ones—once Omar gets aroused, that dick is on a mission. In fact, that had told me of all manner of sticky situations, from dive bar back alleys to at least one airplane bathroom. At this point, it had a mind of its own.

“Oh no, I’m fine,” Omar cut in. “It’s not that. I mean, I’m never not horny these days, but it’s not an emergency,” his voice dropping off slightly.

“Are you sure? It’ll be a photo finish, but I can probably get us home.”

“No no, this is something…else…” Omar almost doubled over in concentration, his entire body seeming to flex. His eyes glued to the floor, he slowly pushed his chair back. Or at least I thought he had, realizing instead that his legs were visibly taking up more and more space, elongating in real time. In fact, his entire body seemed to be doing the same, stretching in all directions, with an even juicier musculature following suit. Covered in a sheen of sweat, he quickly pulled off the rest of his trench coat to cool down, his arms and torso swelling with mass and dwarfing the lounge chair. The legs of his pants crept slowly up his shins, revealing a bulbous cock head wrapped in some sort of compression fabric.

My jaw hanging open in awe, I asked, “Was that…”

“Yup.”

[newtinaboot]

Just saw a post that affirmed many types of autistic people (nothing wrong with that), but included those that were diagnosed early, but didn’t include those that were diagnosed late.

After that, they stated that in the reblogs, people took notice of how they affirmed those with level two and three autism, but not level one. Instead of addressing the issue and trying to understand, they doubled down and stated the issues that levels 2 and 3 go through, which also implied that they have it worse than 1, considering the fact that they said something along the lines of “all the people adding ‘and level one!’ Are the reason this post was needed.”

That post may have accidentally excluded level 1 in the beginning, but then it was revealed that it was intentional. You are excluding level one from your discussion and invalidating our struggles, so here’s a fucking vibecheck:

I have autism level one. I was diagnosed late, unlike those you affirmed because they were diagnosed early, and I’m heavily affected by the autism despite the “less severe” rating they gave me. Truth is, they gave me that rating because I mostly showed sensory issues and social deficits. I didn’t have any learning struggles attributed to my autism (they didn’t even look at my school records, btw), which took me down a fair bit. I was diagnosed as it being “less severe” because it presented differently.

It’s true, I could have had MORE learning struggles (because I did, in fact, have them) alongside my other issues, and I’m lucky I don’t, but that shouldn’t discount my experiences, along with any other people put in the box of “level one”. Sorry we tried to be fucking inclusive in your tags, we thought we mattered to you.

I do not have anxiety attacks and sensory overloads every day, I do not get called exclusionary and cruel names and physically harassed, I do not have to avoid potentially fun social events and situations and places because the amount of stimuli and people would kill me, for you to fucking INVALIDATE every level 1s struggle.

Yeah, brain differences can be seen better through grades, but that’s because they were designed to do that. They were designed to single out those that are different and stamp those kids’ work with big red Fs and mark them with red felt tip pens. Those that don’t get lower grades are typically seen to have minds that function “properly” (I.e. they way society wants them to). They are often discounted because learning differences are the ones more commonly emphasized as being the most difficult aspect, which-in some cases-is true, but remember:

All our issues and strengths present differently, which is precisely why we’re called a SPECTRUM. You stated in your post that level threes couldn’t do public housing, but guess what?

I can’t either!!!

Just because my/our symptoms presented differently than yours doesn’t make us any less valid, and doesn’t negate the fact that all autistics are worth affirming and celebrating for their identities, and all that comes with them.

[sparkysummers]

An introduction to Sparky, the character

I should probably at the very least introduce Sparky as a character. While he is my identity, he also has his own life - a life that brought him to me, that gave him form. It's something that makes more sense to me than it should.

To give you the briefest of overviews...

Sparky was an outsider in his own mind. A completely human-at-the-time mage of the Kuran tower of As'raea, his home took the form of the Mage Tower - a scholarly spire dedicated to the furtherance of his homeland's knowledge of magic and its many applications.

Specifically, Sparky's fields involved the Aervae, crystal-weaving beings that once thrived upon As'raea and were now all but gone. This had him dabble in magic that would, in theory, allow people to travel great distances without using the Void as a passthrough - a highly desired outcome, given the many dangers of that swirling mass of unknown, dangerous power.

He was not without his flaws, however. Sparky, as you can likely imagine, was not his real name, though he never went by any other. Some would swear that a late ancestor of theirs had spoken of a man by his description, but he spent so long locked up in his room for times far longer than even his most devoted peers that they'd often forget his face by next meeting. Perhaps it was intended, or perhaps it was his own mind.

See, Sparky was not particularly socially apt. While most Mages were curt and standoffish, owing once more to their seclusion, Sparky was another breed entirely. With odd comforts such as his hood, always being tugged forward in times of struggle, which were many during even the smallest of talk, he'd always show himself as somewhat disinclined to even acknowledge that others existed. He was happy on his own. He had his work and his living, and those were all he wished to know.

His own more physical disabilities also required an answer, the seeking of which took most of his spare time. Unlike most of his As'raean kin, the 'core' that allowed him to store and access magic from within his own body would not stop taking on magic, overloading his body if allowed to go unchecked. The symptoms would be small, hard to spot: A faint glowing of the eyes, a heightened sense of accomplishment, and perhaps the faintest spring in his step were the first tells. Any further down the line and he'd be so literally drunk with power that one would have to step in to help ensure he discharged the magic. To not do so would likely lead to dire consequences.

It was this disability that made him question that fateful dispatch: A call to venture into the Faelands, where the Aervae were most known to favour. Such a magic-dense atmosphere would surely be a danger to him, and he'd not seen fieldwork in many a year.

He knew that going there would cost him something. He hardly expected that it'd cost him his ability to exist in his home entirely.

-------

I'll be adding more to this as I go on. This was theraputic to write.

[rinwellisathing]

It's A Thankless Job: Part 7

The restful days spent in the park and relaxing with time off from work had done well for Jaina. She was on a rare streak of good days rather than bad and for that, she was grateful. Karlach was out leading a physical therapy session at the gym and Scratch and Nibble were sleeping soundly in the living room, giving her and Wyll some time to themselves. Her hands explored his sculpted chest eagerly, enjoying the feeling of the muscles beneath his smooth flesh. His body was so warm, not quite as warm as Karlach's, but far warmer than her own, and the slickness of his sweat added a surprisingly pleasant sensation. Her legs were currently wrapped around his hips as his smooth, gentle thrusts pistoned deep into her tight slit. Her tail entwined lovingly with his as she leaned up, pressing their foreheads together with a blissful smile. “I love you” She breathed, before pressing her lips to his. He smiled into the kiss, arms wrapped protectively around her shoulders, cradling her body to his as his pace quicked. “I love you too.” He replied before kissing her again, deeply, hungrily, as he buried his cock inside her fully, feeling her clench around him as they released together. They laid there a while, cuddled close together, curled up protectively around eachother, eyes drifting closed as sleep claimed them on their lazy afternoon together. By the time Karlach returned, smiling fondly and chuckling as she pulled a blanket up over them, they were fast asleep. It didn't bother her when they spent time alone together, after all, she had the same opportunities with each of them and then there were the times all three of them spent together. She had to admit to herself, however, that she felt she'd been a little unfair to Jaina since her illness had gotten worse. She thought back to when they were first together, when she and Jaina had time together while Wyll was at work or simply not in the mood and excused himself to watch something in the other room or go for a walk, the sex had been wild, intense, eager and playful. The doublesided toy the two fondly referred to as 'The Narwhal Horn' with its spiraling pattern came to mind. But lately, she'd been nervous, cautious, always afraid to go too hard and cause Jaina to faint or worsen her symptoms. She knew the other woman was disappointed that things had changed and she knew Jaina hated to be treated like a fragile doll, but she was so afraid of hurting her. The partners before Jaina and Wyll haunted her, the ones from before she'd gotten help after the medical trial...She could remember the burning flesh, the cries of pain, she never wanted to hurt Jaina or Wyll like that.

She was pulled from those thoughts by a pair of cool, smooth hands pressing over her eyes and a sweet little kiss on her neck. “Guess who?” Karlach grinned and took Jaina's hand in hers, bringing it to her lips. “Hey, you. Had fun while I was out?” “I did.” She replied. “But, with all the rest and recuperation so to speak, I could be ready for more.” Her tone was hopeful, coy and playful. Karlach smiled sadly, squeezing her lover's hand gently. “Yeah, I'm just not in the mood right now, y'know? Still a bit sore from the class and all. Wanna watch a movie instead?” To Jaina's credit, she hid her disappointment well and simply smiled and nodded. “Yeah. So...are we thinking horror? Rom Com? There's that new super hero one too...Or, you know me, I'm always up for anything with pirates!” “If only there were a rom com about zombie pirates, then we wouldn't need to choose, right?” Karlach chuckled with a somewhat cheesy grin. “That's an amazing idea, we should be making movies.” Jaina shoved her shoulder playfully with a little laugh.

The two cuddled on the couch, Jaina's arms around Karlach's waist, while Karlach draped her arm over Jaina's shoulder. Jaina's pale head rested against Karlach's chest, purring like a contented kitten as she enjoyed the warmth and the gentle glow. --- The next day, Jaina and Karlach both returned to work, but Wyll still had some time off the chief had insisted he take. The old man was very strict about the matter, one couldn't save lives while suffering from burnout and caring for others started with caring for one's self. But with that said, Wyll wasn't sure what to do with himself with this much time on his hands. He preferred to be busy. After his walk with Nibbles and Scratch, he laid back on the couch, a re-run of Tavern Terrors on in the background, the stocky halfling monologuing to the camera about the state of the walk in freezer at some gaudy place in Neverwinter. He was only half listening as he noticed a card on the coffee table, picking it up and looking it over. Kroger's number greeted him from the other side and he wondered briefly if he should give it a try, turning the card between his fingers as he thought. Finally, he took out his phone and made the call, waiting anxiously as it rang. After about three rings, a voice picked up.

“Ghustil Kroger here.” “Hey, ah...this is Wyll Ravengard, we met doing that safety assembly at the school and then you helped my partner?” Wyll smiled. “Oh, yes. It's good to hear from you. Has Miss Thalassia been well since her visit?” Kroger asked, his voice even and calm. “She has. Thank you for your help. I think the rest has been good for her.” Wyll replied, his tone warm and grateful. “Listen, I was actually calling to see if you had some free time today, maybe you'd like to grab a coffee or something?” Kroger was quiet a moment as though taken aback. “A social call?” He was quiet again, but his tone didn't sound displeased, rather more surprised. Finally he responded, a hint of shyness in his otherwise unflinching tone. “Yes, that would be...nice. Around noon?” “Sounds great.” Wyll beamed. --- When Wyll walked into the coffee shop, he found Kroger already sitting at a table with two comfortable chairs in a pleasantly lit spot near the window. A mug of black coffee with just a bit of cream and sugar sat in front of him and Wyll noticed there was also a mug in front of the empty seat, as he sat down, the smell of caramel and espresso filled his nose. “I told the barista I was waiting for you, he knew your order automatically. He also refused payment.” Kroger remarked with a small smile. “So, we spoke already about Miss Thalassia, but how are you doing? Being a caregiver can be trying even for someone you love.” “I'm alright all things considered.” Wyll shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. The temperature was perfect. How could Kroger have been certain enough he'd arrive on time to be confident putting in the order. The Githyanki nodded, eyes closing gently for a moment as he savored a slow sip of his coffee. “Mm...So my assessment of you is fairly accurate. Punctual, considerate of others to a fault, and a pillar of the community. Good. I was afraid my ability to read people would be useless outside of a Creche.” “That's what your people call their compounds, right?” Wyll asked, looking the other man over curiously. He felt his face flush a little, was he really so easy to read? Then was Kroger already aware of his attraction to him?

“Yes, exactly. The one my sisters and I came from was fairly typical, which is to say firmly under the thumb of our religious leader. I have to admit, I like your societies better. What Istik lack in a sense of structure, you make up for with variety and, surprisingly enough, the way your people care for eachother.” He mused, looking around with a small, appreciative smile on his thin lips. “It might not seem that way all the time, but the simple fact I was able to set up my clinic and garner the support I have is proof enough to me that maybe you all have the right idea.” Wyll nodded his approval. “I think you're right, that's why I love this city...By and large it is full of good people who will do the right thing when it comes down to it, I truly believe that.”

Kroger inclined his head and took another sip of his coffee before looking up to gaze appreciatively at the other man. Handsome, good-hearted, and likely in need of some care himself. The Githyanki hesitated for just a moment and then, he dared to bring up the topic he had wanted to since they'd agreed to meet today. “You know, what you and your partners have is such a special thing. You all genuinely seem to care for each other. It seems like a wonderful thing to experience.” Wyll cocked his head curiously. “You're not in a relationship yourself, Kroger?” It was surprising, the man was a doctor and looked more like one who had stepped out of a soap opera with his well styled dusty blonde hair and those impossible to ignore green eyes. “No, I'm afraid not. I had....trouble...connecting with others back at the Creche and when my sisters and I came here, I was very focused on my work, there just wasn't any time.” Kroger admitted, stirring absently at his coffee as he looked out the window a moment. Wyll cleared his throat and took a quick sip of his drink before responding. “Well, I mean if it isn't too forward of me to offer, we could certainly meet up again, and this time for an actual date if you like. I just have to clear it with Jaina and Karlach, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested.”

Kroger's eyes widened and his smile brightened, sharp, perfectly white teeth glinting in the light of the coffee shop, it was an awkward smile, but a genuine one. “Really? Well, of course I understand we would need their permission first, but yes, I would like that.” He beamed. --- “The doctor? He was pretty handsome.” Jaina giggled when Wyll brought up the subject at dinner the following night. “Not to mention, he seemed nice.” “Well, I certainly don't have any objections. He seems like a good guy to have around and if you get along well, who knows?” Karlach nodded. “Besides, it's not like he doesn't know about me and Jaina, so that's already a plus, no awkward explanations and judgments and all that.” “Thanks, you two.” Wyll smiled gratefully as he stood up to clear their plates. “Wonderful meal as always, Karlach.” “You know I save my best work for you guys.” She winked as she scraped some scraps of bacon and chicken onto two small plates and set them on the floor for Scratch and Nibbles. “So, it sounds like maybe we should plan a date too, Karlach, you know, so Wyll doesn't feel too bad about leaving us home.” Jaina gave a teasing little grin. “We could see that new monster movie and check out the book store.” She batted her eyelashes playfully. Karlach folded her arms across her chest and gave a mock-chastising look. “Jaina, NO! Bad! You have a backlog of books a mile long.” “Oh come on, reading is good for you. Wyll, back me up!” Jaina pouted, her stormy blue eyes shifting back and forth between her partners.

“I'm afraid I've got to agree with Karlach on this one, my love. If we have to buy one more bookshelf, they're going to start blocking windows and doors.” Wyll laughed as he scrubbed deftly at a plate before carefully placing it in the drying rack.

“Besides, you literally work in a library. You know you're also allowed to borrow the books, not just your customers, right?” Karlach added as though she'd only just thought of it. “Alright, alright, what if I promise not to buy anything but coffee....and maybe a scented candle.” Jaina offered. “Well, if that's...” Karlach trailed off as she looked at her phone for a moment, a small notification ping sounding. “.....Oh fuck...” Her expression soured, her grip on her phone tightening. “Karlach?” Jaina cocked her head to one side, concern crossing her face. “No fucking way...he can't....he wouldn't....” She was shaking a bit now. Wyll fully abandoned the dishes, walking over slowly and cautiously. He could see Karlach was distressed, something had gone beyond souring the mood and had sent her into a spiral, he could only guess it was something to do with her trauma, from the way it had immediately sent her into a panic. “Can you take a few deep breaths for me, love?” Jaina gently brushed her fingers across Karlach's hand, when Karlach didn't push her away, she gently gripped her hands in hers, fingertips massaging her wrists soothingly. She could feel the warmth of Karlach's skin growing.

“Look.” Karlach pulled one hand free of Jaina's and held up her phone. An image on a social media feed, Jaina and Wyll recognized it as some model Karlach liked, even to the point of moderating some of his pages sometimes. He was some edgy young guy, around Jaina's age probably, another tiefling. 'XxPreciousLittleBhaalBabexX: Glamming it up at some hoity toity gala nonsense. Look at me dating 'above my station' and all that!' The picture that accompanied the post was a tiefling boy in his early twenties with a pretty face marked with black tattoos and a burn scar across it. He was dressed in a finely tailored black suit with red skulls embroidered on the lapels, his silver hair slicked back and his eyes lined heavily with black makeup. He wore fine silver jewelry but what had set Karlach off was the man whose arm he was clinging to with the hand that he wasn't using to snap the selfie. He was in his 30's or 40's with light brown skin and dark tousled hair. He wore a fine black suit with gold filigree embroidered on it and his dark emerald, almost black eyes gazed smugly out at the viewer. Enver Gortash. “Oh shit....Karlach, I'm so sorry...” Jaina bit her lip, one hand going immediately to her mouth. “Maybe he doesn't know what that guy is really like?” Wyll offered. “I mean, nothing against his work, but models and influencers aren't generally very focused on politics.” “Yeah...maybe he doesn't...” Karlach breathed heavily, slowly lowering herself back into her chair, trying to keep herself calm. “But do I tell him? I'm not exactly close with the guy, just a big fan...He might get pissed at me...But fucking hell, how can I not, though? That guy ruined my fucking life and now he just gets to waltz around going to fancy fucking parties, running for office, and dating someone way out of his league. It's bullshit!” “If people knew what he was really like, all the garbage he has his hands in, they wouldn't vote for him.” Jaina pointed out. “Or if someone people could really trust were to run against him....” “But right now he's running unopposed....Ulder Ravengard just straight up stepped down.” Karlach sighed, resting her head on her palms and scowling.

“Well, people liked him, though I really can't fathom how considering his absolutely appalling treatment of his own family...” Jaina began. “Jaina, enough...We agreed not to talk about that...” Wyll tensed, looking away as his hand went to Scratch's ear, gently massaging the velvety soft fur for comfort as the dog gave an appreciative sigh and leaned into the touch. “Sorry....I just can't believe...” She stopped herself with a deep breath and a nod. “Okay, I'll drop it.”

The mood for the evening had taken a somber turn. Jaina excused herself to go and resume the book she'd been reading, fixing herself a cup of mint tea and cocooning herself in the ocean colored blanket her mother had crocheted for her last winter. She curled up on the couch, with a softly spoken cantrip, lit her scented candle, and disappeared into the world of her story. Karlach disappeared into the guest room where her workout equipment was after popping in her earbuds and opening a fairly loud playlist to drown out the world. Wyll could hear the shifting and clanging of weights as Karlach lost herself in her routine. Wyll looked back to the sink. The dishes could soak a bit longer, he needed some air. “Well, come on boys, looks like you'll get a bonus walk tonight.” He smiled softly at Scratch and Nibble, the dog jumping to attention, tail wagging in excitement. Nibble waddled over to the shelf by the door and collected the leashes in his beak, bringing them over and dropping them at Wyll's feet before plopping down in front of him and gazing up at him with those huge, luminous eyes.

[softlittleheartsandsparkles]

what do you mean by not sure if your using the term late diagnoses correctly or not?

TW: Talks about physical child abuse. (I'm super brief as this isn't a topic I like diving into) Oh geez. Um, so I was diagnosed with adhd when I was a kid, appearlty. And I do recall being told once I have adhd. (I was also told as a kid I wouldn't pass/do high school by a teacher in grade 2. I passed high school, I did college... So those low expectations didn't stop me.) But also when I was younger being a 90s kid, my parents had a ton of shame and misunderstanding of what that diagnose meant. (A lot of stigma...) & I was beaten when my parents found out with belt & I was heavily bruised... and they sorta believed that "cured" me. So the topic wasn't approach again when I was young & scared of my parents as there go to was just beat with a belt, or cords (electric ones.) & other objects... It went to the point when I moved from one province to the next with my family for IEP my parents didn't report my adhd. I wasn't medicated, and when I was struggling in high school they told the school I struggle with dyslexia so I could get some sorta accommodation. (Dyslexia wasn't seen as "bad", but adhd was because it was 'behavioral' in my parents eyes & made them "look bad".) & When I was an adult and I moved out and to another province and eventually started college I wasn't sure my whole list of educational based diagnoses. (Again just dyslexia.) So I stuck with anxiety and panic disorder and ptsd cause those were diagnosed. Which helped with schooling & accommodations. But because I wasn't aware/sure I had adhd, I also found myself labeled as someone with bpd. ( With bpd there was some stuff I related too. But it was also a lot of the trauma/complex ptsd overlap I related heavily with...) & I remember different things would get picked at and pointed at as borderline traits, (It also doesn't help that adhd and bpd can have overlap in similar symptoms. Examples like emotional regulation. ) but they were always like pulled apart to fit the "mold" of bpd. I wasn't properly diagnosed with adhd until a couple years ago. In 2021. ^^;' (And I'd say proper because I was able to explore this and have it actually added to my medical records.) and that assignment cause I asked about bpd, (I'm aware you can have both) so they did mild testing and said I don't score for bpd and most likely what happened is my trauma (cptsd) and undiagnosed adhd just coupled and looked like "bpd". But yeah, I do wonder if the term late diagnoses is proper or not. Technically I feel like it fits more because I finally have it on my medical reports/records compare to when I was a child. But idk.

[iovealexivs]

Thanks for answering my adhd med question! If and only if you feel like it, would you say more about how you were originally misdiagnosed as having only-depression? I've been depressed since early childhood but lately I've started to realize that this is heavily influenced by the fact that I can just never get a grip on anything in daily life, and there's probably something more cognitive or neurological going on. If you don't feel like discussing it with a stranger you don't even have to tell me, I'll wish you a happy new year anyway!

“I can never get a grip on anything” encapsulates how I have felt for as long as I can remember.

I have mainly inattentive ADHD, so it was never caught when I was a kid though in hindsight jesus christ it was so evident. I was (and still am) a huge daydreamer, I do go off topic given the opportunity and even when in appropriate, and I’ve always been a disorganized/messy person. My mind is going at like a million miles a minute even if I’m not physically expressing that hyperactivity. I struggle with impulse control, am easily forgetful of things (couple that with brain fog from long covid and it’s awful), have major time blindness, etc.

When some of my symptoms, such as procrastination, burnout, not cleaning my room due to executive dysfunction, etc, started to affect my life negatively it was chalked up to depression. On the outside it did look like depression, so I bought into it. For a short time antidepressants would work (except for venlaflaxine, which i mentioned had extremely awful side effects but also did no good). But because the problem wasn’t actually depression those didn’t work for very long. It was really frustrating and I must’ve seen 4 different professionals over the course of 5 years before getting to a medication plan that works.

I wasn’t able to see anyone for my mental health until I was an adult due to my home life even though I’d felt this since I was 13. my mom for the longest time would just chastise me for being lazy as if I could control it (she did this well until this year when I told her the problem was ADHD. Reason why I never did before was because she was always dismissive about my mental health as a teen so it was hard to approach her). There is also the fact, according to my dad who only told me after I graduated highschool, my pediatricians told my parents when I was a toddler I was exhibiting signs of autism (which must’ve been very telling if it was caught on that early) and my parents denied me a proper diagnosis because “that couldn’t be it” even if it’s a comorbidity of my physical conditions. So i’ve been running around with that, and I am sure that has to have an effect on everything else.

It wasn’t until I saw a therapist in late 2018/early 2019 for a traumatic event that I considered ADHD a possibility because she was able to pinpoint it from my behavior and my past. But a therapist can’t write scripts so I still needed to see a doctor/psychiatrist. Since then I tried to see different doctors but most just stuck me on antidepressants either by continuing my lexapro script (which had no effect here nor there once I stopped other than mild withdrawal symptoms) or starting me on Wellbutrin (in 2021). I started wellbutrin because I finally got screened for adhd and had the official diagnosis, but I was still given an antidepressant. The wellbutrin worked a little better but it was not solving the problem completely. It got me up and out of bed, which may be why the person I’m seeing now wants me to keep taking it, but I could never stay focused on a task if I wasn’t being forced to either my parents or work. It was so bad on my end when I was on my own in uni that I ended up in the ER due to self induced stress. This summer my psych NP put me on adderall because he listened to how frustrated I was with having an ADHD diagnosis for years and not being effectively treated for it. He did try the venlaflaxine but I had to stop it and then he put me on adderall. I’ve noticed only positives from there even at a smaller dose.

I believe one of the reasons it was diagnosed as depression is because ADHD (like many other health issues, including autism, which can show how much I was showing as a kid if doctors could tell off the bat) is largely ignored in people born female like myself because of stereotypes associated with ADHD mostly being noticed in boys/people assigned male at birth. To further illustrate this, my brothers were suspected of having adhd before they were 7. I wasn’t as disruptive as the “typical” adhd child (I did have my moments. Don’t get me wrong. But it was treated as me being an occasionally unruly kid and I was reprimanded for it only as it happened) so no one cared. I was also a “gifted” kid because I liked reading so much and was smart for the time. Surely a kid with good grades (and who got punished for anything less than a B) has no problems /s. So when I started to level out with my peers in high school the “laziness” accusations exploded in frequency and no one would listen to me when I said I felt so out of control of my own mind.

Sorry this got so long. I never can be concise when there’s something I feel so strongly about. I, unlike the adults in my adolescence, encourage being open about mental health so I hope this can help you.

[jozzysabbath]

HOW BLACK SABBATH ENDURED BOTH HEAVEN AND HELL WITH 'SABOTAGE'

As Black Sabbath prepared to unveil their sixth studio album on July 28, 1975, their career appeared to be at its absolute zenith. And yet, the foundation of their heavy metal empire was rotting under their platform boots due to the dishonest dealings of their longtime management World Wide Artists.

No one seemed more surprised about this sickening turn of events than the four members of Sabbath themselves: Singer Ozzy Osbourne, guitarist Tony Iommi, bassist Geezer Butler and drummer Bill Ward.

For the band, the first half of the ‘70s had been a breathless marathon, packed with album after album and touring jaunts in-between. By 1975, this grueling workload (and its resulting physical and emotional toll) had helped them achieve a level of worldwide stardom beyond their wildest dreams, but hardly the same financial security. It was at this point that their worst suspicions finally came home to roost.

With the help of their notorious new manager Don Arden, Black Sabbath began the painful process of putting their business affairs in order in the summer of 1974. But they still had to put food on the table while the lawsuits were flying. It was under this kind of pressure that sessions for Sabotage were initiated – its title chosen to reflect the dire state of the group's finances.

Musically, the band was looking to dispense with the more sophisticated trappings of 1973’s Sabbath Bloody Sabbath by recording an in-your-face, pulverizing rock album – more in line with predecessors Vol. 4 and Master of Reality – without necessarily sacrificing the variety common to all of their albums. It goes without saying, though, that the urgent need to produce new music and get right back to earning much-needed dollars out on the road undoubtedly fueled the recording process, to some extent.

As such, the band’s signature doom plod was expeditiously unearthed for the opening “Hole in the Sky” and – following a brief acoustic interlude from Iommi named “Don’t Start (Too Late)” – pushed to glorious heights via the galloping staccato strums and mystical lyrics of “Symptom of the Universe.” Black Sabbath would arguably never again conjure their alchemical original formula quite like they did on this classic song, but they sure came close with the driving attack of “Thrill of it All” and the radical dynamic shifts undertaken by twin epics “Megalomania” and “The Writ” — the last obviously inspired by their ongoing litigation.

Somewhat less impressive were the perplexing choirs laden atop the otherwise instrumental “Supertzar” and the album’s synthetic-sore-thumb of a single, “Am I Going Insane? (Radio),” whose title essentially confirmed its purpose – though not competently enough to even get it into the charts. On the other hand, Sabotage in its entirety did rise as high as the American Top 20, but tellingly dropped back down just as quickly, becoming the first Black Sabbath album to not achieve platinum sales.

Then, adding injury to insult, Ozzy injured his back in a motorcycle accident in the fall of '75, forcing Sabbath to cut short their tour with openers Kiss, even as their label, Warner Bros., prepared the release of the group's first greatest hits set, We Sold Our Soul for Rock 'n' Roll. The latter would in years to come unfairly promote the perception that Black Sabbath’s best days were behind them, and said notion would sadly be exacerbated by the commercial and artistic deficiencies of the following year’s Technical Ecstasy and 1978’s Never Say Die.

By the close of the '70s, Black Sabbath's original incarnation would be no more, as Osbourne quit, rejoined, then quit again. After barnstorming across that decade's first half, Sabbath limped over the second, with their ongoing struggles with substance abuse and never-ending lawsuits against the managers who'd done them wrong being the only constants in a period of inconstancy.

Sabotage was, in many ways, cast into a state of purgatory, neither here nor there, where Sabbath fans were concerned, its worth relative to the band's surrounding discography cast into doubt.

But, as we look back with the benefit of hindsight, this album feels ever more like the final chapter in Black Sabbath’s amazing run of heavy metal cornerstones instead of the first chapter in their hit-and-miss second act. If anything is beyond question, it's that from a musical and even visual standpoint (thanks to its creepy black-hued cover art), Sabotage certainly lived up to the band’s original sonic aesthetic, with all its perfect imperfections, for the last time in their storied career

[enjoltrwolfstar]

-

[masterjedilenawrites]

I’m not good at making requests, so forgive me if anything come out wrong.

But, could you do something were reader and Tech are fixing some eletronics and listening to cientific things, and start talking about a wrong thing people said there, so they get distracted and when realize, they’re in to a awkward position (like him btween her legs or sth like that)

I love your writing and thanks (: <3

Omg I've been so soft for Tech lately and this prompt is perfect 💚 I hope this is what you were looking for, I really enjoyed writing it!

Tech x reader | 2k words

...making bacta the most important scientific achievement in history...

"Dank farrik," Tech huffed beside you.

You came out of your daze at the sudden exclamation and looked at your friend with concern, trying to quickly figure out what had gone wrong. You were helping him with a project, though what it was exactly you weren't completely certain of. All you knew was it involved digging into the walls of the ship and untangling a lot of wires. You'd been instructed to hold onto several of them, keeping them pulled taught out of the wall so Tech could fiddle with the other ends, and the dullness of the task had caused your mind to wander.

"What's wrong?" you asked, doubtful you'd understand any explanation, but wanting to be sure you hadn't done anything to mess up his progress.

He waved a hand at you dismissively, not pulling his attention away from the work in front of him. "Just the radio," he mumbled.

You hadn't been paying attention; it had only been turned on as background noise to keep you from going insane with boredom. And since it was tuned into some kind of scientific news frequency, you didn't really understand much of what was being said anyway.

...with the most influential application simply being in the field of medicine, providing us higher life forms with a versatile tool in maintaining our quality of life, and potentially even prolonging it...

Tech huffed again. Scoffed. Your mouth quirked at how upset he was getting. It was kind of cute.

But, you had to debate whether engaging with his frustration would be worth it. He had only recently calmed down from his outburst earlier that day, the only time you had ever seen him genuinely upset. Wrecker had accidentally knocked over a piece of machinery that was... well, something very important, apparently. No one was too sure. But Tech had spent most of the week carefully arranging its parts just-so, so that when all his hard work went crashing onto the floor, his breathing had suddenly resembled that of a charging Nexu. He'd drawn himself up, trying to match his brother's height, and ordered the poor guy to never step foot in this part of the ship again. The other Batchers had tried to defend him and were subsequently banned as well.

That left you as the only option for help.

Maybe that meant he wouldn't kick you out for debating him....

"Sounds like they're saying some pretty reasonable things. Am I missing something?"

Tech's fingers, which had been deftly working through the wires before him, clipping some and splicing others, finally froze. The clone's face tilted over to you, his eyes looking a little too judgmental through those glasses for your liking.

"You think bacta is the most important scientific achievement?" he asked. You didn't like his tone, either.

You scrunched your mouth in thought, actually giving the question serious consideration. While you mulled it over, Tech stood up from his hunched position in the wall and started pulling on some of the wires, unraveling them from their tangled mess.

"Yeah," you finally decided. "I think medicine in general is pretty important. And bacta specifically is the strongest known substance to deliver fast and effective healing."

Tech was mostly focused on the wires, but he spared you a glance.

"And treating symptoms is the most important thing for humanity? Here, hold this." He added another wire for you to hold in your hands.

You knew it was a loaded question so you chose to answer it with one of your own. "Well if it's not bacta or medicine, then what would it be?"

"Electricity," he said quickly and assertively, as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. He continued to focus more on his work and you were annoyed he didn't seem to want to offer up an explanation to his opinion, despite having made you give one. He'd finally untangled the wires and was back to leaning into the cavern in the wall and setting them into their proper places.

"Why electricity?" You hated how dumb your question sounded; obviously you understood the concept and understood its importance. You just really wanted to challenge him to give you some explanations.

"For one, most medicines would not be able to be mass-produced were it not for the electrically-run vats in which they are made." He held his hand out behind him and made a grabbing motion. "Blue, please."

You sorted out the blue wire and passed it over.

"For another," he continued, his voice sounding distant as he leaned further away into the wall, "we must ask what constitutes a quote-unquote important achievement. For example, is an achievement worthy of the title simply because it improves our quality of life? Green, please."

You handed over the corresponding wire. "I'd say it's more about preserving life. Even outside of war, there's enough injury and illness that would end life were it not for medicine to heal them."

"Ah, but in that same reasoning, electricity also sustains life. It powers sources of light and warmth, which can also provide a means of boiling water and cooking food. All keys to survival. Yellow, please."

"So does fire," you shot back. "People survived long before electricity, and there's still plenty of civilizations living fine without it."

Tech finally emerged from the wall and took the last few wires from you, the red and black ones. He met your eyes with an earnestness that let you know how much he was enjoying this conversation. "And people have survived without medicine. At least the manufactured forms that you're arguing for, like bacta. Traditional medicine is as sufficient as fire."

Before you could respond, Tech moved to the side, motioning toward the wall with his head and holding up the remaining wires.

"Now, unfortunately these last ones need to be clipped in down below. I'm not able to fit through the lattice of the floor, but someone of your stature easily could."

You stepped forward and peered down. It was a mess of machinery and pipes and beams, but you could clearly see the port where the wires had been yanked out earlier. You knelt down, resting your stomach on the edge of the wall, but paused before bending over.

"If it wasn't for bacta, you wouldn't have been born." You were confident in your comeback and thus didn't linger for his reaction, turning to bend down into the ship with your wires instead.

You were disappointed to hear his soft chuckle from above you.

"And what do you think powers the bacta tanks that hold the clone embryos?"

You were glad he couldn't see the frustrated frown on your face. While you tried to think of a new point in your debate, you snapped the red wire into the proper port. But then you realized you couldn't quite reach the black one, and started carefully shimmying forward, deeper into the wall.

"It seems we have circled back to the initial question," Tech offered in your silence. You felt his hands hold on to your hips, steadying you as your legs lifted from the floor, most of your body now inside the ship. You didn't think anything of it, though, your focus split between your task and his words. "What makes an achievement the most important? Both medicine and electricity are capable of preserving life, but neither are essential to survival. So, what criteria are we left with?"

You were finally within reach of the last port and pushed the wire into it. "Sounds like you already have the right answer, so why don't you stop teasing me and just say it?" you called up to him.

"I...I didn't mean to sound like I was teasing."

You could hear the apology in his voice, how truly caught off guard he was to hear that you had perceived his attempts at a friendly debate, a conversation, as mocking or disrespectful. Your stomach knotted up in guilt, making your journey to wiggle back out of the wall a little more difficult.

"I'm sorry, Tech," you said through a grunt as you tried to push yourself back. "I didn't mean to sound rude. I just don't know the answer."

You felt his arms snake around your middle, pulling you the last of the way out. You came to rest on your knees, breathing heavily at the sudden increase in air supply. Tech was crouched alongside you, his chest against part of your back, his arms still holding you.

"I honestly don't know the answer, either," he blinked down at you, speaking quietly. "I don't know what criteria would constitute the most important scientific achievement. I thought maybe we could figure it out if we kept discussing it."

You craned your neck around to look at him, unconcerned about the discomfort it took to do so. You needed to face him fully. "Or... maybe we don't need to figure it out? I mean, does there need to be one achievement labeled more important than any other? Can they not all be valued equally?"

"I suppose..." he relented. But only a little. "It is a fun thought exercise, though."

You smiled at that, and it made your heart flutter a little to see him return the expression. There were a few seconds between you where you sat pleasantly in each other's arms... before the realization hit that you were in each other's arms.

"Uh," Tech stuttered first. His eyes looked about frantically as if the more he saw of you practically sitting in his lap, the more he would know what to do about it.

Your face was hot and your heart thumped forcefully in your chest. But you weren't panicking. Even though you'd been around the Bad Batch for a while now, this was the first time you'd gotten physically close to any of them, especially this dorky genius, who made you feel just a little better about life than the others did. You hadn't been sure why, not until this moment, your face being mere inches away from his own. Now it clicked.

His arms had removed themselves from your frame and he was starting to crawl backward on the floor. You quickly grasped his shoulder to stop him.

"Tech, wait."

He froze, looking at you with wide, apprehensive eyes. His shoulder was tense so you relaxed your grasp and simply let your hand rest on it gently. You gave him a small smile. Thankfully these little gestures were enough encouragement for him to lean back to you. He still looked at you timidly, but he wasn't pulling away anymore. It seemed like maybe he had been feeling the same things about you.

"Yes?"

He was waiting for you to make the next move.

"So, this project," you stalled, needing just a little more time to work up the courage. "What is it again? Why did I just crawl into the bowels of the ship?"

Your face was creeping closer to his, breath gently fanning across each other, warm but refreshing.

"I... I..." Tech seemed to be short-circuiting. "I was just, uh, re... redecorating."

Your nose had just brushed his when you suddenly frowned and moved back to look at him questioningly. "Redecorating... wires?"

You were very amused at how flustered he seemed to be in this situation. But then the tables turned as Tech rolled with it.

"Yeah, I didn't like the way they looked in there. Wanted to change things up. You know me."

The smile on our face spread as he talked and you couldn't hold back your laughter any longer. You bent forward, resting your forehead in the crook of his neck while your body convulsed with giggles. Tech laughed along, bringing his arms back around you to hold you in place. When you finally looked up at him and the shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face, you knew you'd finally found your courage.

"Oh, Tech..." you chided, pressing your smiling lips against his own.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Hey, Little Songbird

Chapter 20 - AO3

Felix found himself far to busy to respond to Marinette’s or Cesaire’s texts that evening. He’d quickly typed “I’m fine, at home,” before turning off his phone for the rest of the day. He had to give his full concentration to this project.

Pulling up the pictures he’d saved on the Cloud, Felix emailed one of the employees of Graham Films to request some translation work. M. [Blank] worked in the dubbing department, focusing on romantic languages, and Felix knew the older man would be willing to help with a permanent raise and an extra week of time off. Unfortunately, a proper translation would take several days at least—M BLANK had other duties to attend to, he was sure—so Felix had to put in some elbow grease himself, even if he had to rely on a garbage translator website.

Transcribing was more tedious than anything, since he had to manually type out each line of text into the word box, but oh, was it worth it. It wasn’t entirely understandable—internet translators were like that—but none-the-less, lie after lie came spilling out in Rossi’s own handwriting. There were more memorable lies, like about Jagged Stone’s kitten and Prince Ali’s pollution charity, to more subtle and unconfirmable lies, like how she was the inspiration for the heroine of a Steven Peilberg movie and how she climbed Mt Everest a few years ago; there was a neat list of every disability she claimed, like little ducks in a row, with a list of symptoms written beside each one. Symptoms that, Felix noticed, were either wrong or too general to point to a proper diagnosis. Even Felix, who had no medical training whatsoever, knew that ‘ear pain’ was by far not a confirmation for tinnitus.

It even said she’s changed her mother’s emergency contacts! Felix had to applaud Rossi there, she truly had the school in a bind over this one. After all, if they couldn’t contact her mother, who was to say if she really had tinnitus, or if she was out of the country for months on end. And it wasn’t like the Italian embassy was going to give their ambassador’s personal phone number out to anyone who asked. Unfortunately, she hadn’t written down her mother’s real phone number and email. It would have been too convenient if she had, and would have likely caused Felix to doubt the validity of the entire document.

And Felix didn’t doubt its validity. Not only was every page handwritten—an action too inconvenient for Rossi to do herself, and too dangerous to pay someone else to do—but he doubted Rossi was clever enough to plant a fake document filled with fake lies to discredit him and Marinette. Far too many chances to backfire on Rossi. Besides, she had actually kept a physical copy of her lies in her locker. She wasn’t that bright. The only smart thing about doing that was writing it in another language and hiding the journal to begin with.

Felix kept up his transcribing through the night, carefully pasting the translations in a google document that he added both Cesaire and Marinette too. Finally, when the clock stated that it was past 1 did he finally fall asleep.

He woke to several texts from Cesaire; she’d been the only one to read the google document. Felix knew Marinette likely wouldn’t have checked her email last night or this morning, since she was more of a texting person as he’d learned throughout the weeks of their friendship. He found himself rushing through his morning routine, almost giddy in his rush to get to school. The look on Marinette’s face when she discovered he had physical proof of Rossi’s lies…

Well, he hoped it made up for his cousin’s lack of action regarding it.

Marinette was no where to be found in the classroom. Still asleep, he assumed, but Cesaire was there. He took his seat behind her, but she didn’t wait until he sat before grilling him for information. “What the hell, Felix!?”

Felix faked an innocent expression. “What did I do?”

“You know what you did!” She shoved her phone in his face, the screen reflecting his late-night project. “Where did you get this? Some of the lies were from before you even came to school here! And the stuff about her contact info? Where did you even get that?”

“Apparently, Rossi felt the best way to keep track of her lies was to record them,” Felix said, shrugging. “I found it accidently when I was hiding in the locker room from the akuma. It fell out of her locker, and I accidently took pictures of every page inside her journal. I can show you the original documents if you want; the entire thing is in Italian though.”

“Felix! That’s a serious breach in privacy, you could get in trouble!”

He rolled his eyes. “As if this establishment cares about privacy. And I will hardly get into trouble. All I have to do is wave some money around, and the principal will give me a warning about not touching other’s lockers before expelling Rossi.”

Cesaire looked away, biting her lip. “Still, I… I don’t think we can use this. It’s too much.”

“Looking in other people’s lockers is too much. Need I remind you of how you were akumatized into Lady Wifi?”

“How did you know about that?”

“The article leading up to it is still on your blog,” he reminded her. “By the way, what were you thinking? Chloe Bourgeois, Ladybug? As someone who grew up knowing her, allow me to say: that girl doesn’t have a selfless bone in her body. There is no chance of her being Ladybug.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. That article is going to haunt me forever. And you’re one to talk; if you hadn’t started crushing on Marinette, I would say the same thing about you.”

Felix jerked back. “I beg your pardon!?”

“Come on, Felix, it’s obvious.” She rolled her eyes. “You practically melt whenever you look at her. Besides, why else would you be going this far to destroy Lila for her?”

“Perhaps I enjoy bringing justice to miscreants?” he offered. At her look, he backtracked. “Well, that’s too dramatic, even for me. But Rossi has made an enemy as well, if you would recall. I am doing nothing more than to remove her from my sights.”

She didn’t buy his excuse. “If that were true, you would have just transferred schools. Face it, Felix; you like her.”

Felix bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t… apathetic towards Marinette. In fact, she was probably the closest person to his heart, right after his mother. But to say that he was crushing on Marinette was so… plebian. It wasn’t like him and he refused to acknowledge it. “I think you’re reaching, Cesaire, and I do not appreciate the implications you’re making.”

“Alright, alright,” she said, backing off. “But I’ve known a lot of guys who’ve crushed on Marinette, Felix, and they all make that face when they think about her. If you don’t make a move though, someone else might.”

That unpleasant thought curdled in his stomach. Someone else dating Marinette…

It was simply unacceptable.

Taglist: @graduatedmelon @novicevoice @dur55 @kris-pines04 @18-fandoms-unite-08 @moonlightstar64 @bee-a-garbage-shipper @sol-o-shade @kittyotakunoir666 @tinyterror333 @allieoftheenemy @marichat00 @xgxmxtx @two-faced-biatch @feliciakainzofspades @evil-cricket @emilytopaz @spicybelladonna @chocolateherringtacofan @user00000003 @wannajointhecrabcult @happymonster-pants @duquesapincarrasca  @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen  @sxltinette @kittydemon9000 @thetrashypanda423 @unoriginalmess @toodaloo-kangaroo

[archies-litterbox]

Home

Summary: Some times when Douxie called the castle his home, and one time Merlin realized his son saw the castle as his home whether he was ready to process that or not (and he wasn’t).

Words: 2000

A/N: I got this done! I actually challenged myself by making sure each little segment of the fic was EXACTLY 500 words, and I had a lot of fun! hope you like it <3

[CW: Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Nightmares (there’s way more softness in this than the CW makes it look I swear-)]

--

The typical chatter of the marketplace was overshadowed by Hisirdoux’s skipping steps, and those were overshadowed by the moppet humming a little tune to himself that Merlin couldn’t make sense of. It was one of many things about the little apprentice that didn’t exactly make sense, but when Merlin brought the boy along to finish an errand, what he truly dreaded was that the boy would be insufferable and get distracted at every turn. So, really, endearing -

- “Endearing to who?” Merlin asked in response to his own internal monologue, because the humming from the boy, a sure sign that his apprentice was content at the very least, was most certainly not endearing to him -

- So, really, definitely-not-endearing humming of silly, nonsensical tunes was a more-than-adequate alternative to that insufferability and distraction, Merlin was sure.

“Getting that potion ingredient was easier than I thought!” Hisirdoux said happily, the spring in his step ever-present, “The merchant wasn’t even cross with me, like usual - like when I come here by myself.”

“Have you considered,” Merlin started, “That she’d been cross because of your notorious slight-of-hand? And your pickpocketing and street tricks has rendered her wary of your possible antics?”

Hisirdoux shrugged, rubbed the back of his head in obvious sheepishness, and turned his gaze elsewhere, “Mayyyybe-”

His face lit up in excitement, his eyes widening as his mouth formed an “O” shape when he saw something off to the street’s side.

“Ooooh! Look!” He turned a little to the side, bringing his hands up as he started to wander to a stand selling some sweet treats, “They’re selling-”

Merlin put a hand on his shoulder to still the boy, who was already a handful without the added hyperactivity of sugar.

“Nothing of importance, Hisirdoux.”

He turned the boy forward again, put his hand on top of Hisirdoux’s head, and turned it forward again as well.

“Awwwh.” Hisirdoux whined.

“We have what we came down here for, and Wizards are many things, but they are not frivolous.” he said as he kept walking, a slightly-pouting moppet walking alongside him, “We’re heading straight back to the castle. There are better pastry bakers there, anyway.”

Hisirdoux’s disappointed pout left his face.

“Right, right.” he said, as if he were reminded of how happy he was just to be out here, on what he probably thought of as a beautiful day, although Merlin was rather impartial to the sunny weather.

 “Let’s go home, Master!”

...Home?

Did he mean the castle?

Though he kept moving physically, putting one armor-plated foot in front of the other, Merlin’s mind froze as he looked down at the joyful, beaming moppet. To hear Hisirdoux refer to the castle as his home… 

Well, Merlin knew he should have expected it at this point, considering the boy’s utter lack of a permanent roof over his head before, but he still didn’t know what to make of it, if there was anything to make of it.

So, he sighed.

“The castle isn’t that far away.”

--

The dark circles under the boy’s eyes looked darker in hue than usual today, but of course, that was only due to the contrast against the unusual paleness of his face. Said eyes looked up at Merlin with a rather lacking amount of cognizance as the Master Wizard stood over the moppet. Stripped of his bulky leather hooded vest in favor of keeping on only his trousers and tunic, so he didn’t overheat, Hisirdoux’s deep breaths through his mouth were only interrupted by a brief, pitiful sniffle of his nose.

“Mathter, ‘th thith… plague?” He was hoarse from coughing and nasally from his awful congestion. To this, Merlin only huffed - of course, leave it to his ever-dramatic apprentice to leap to the most dire conclusion possible, even though he couldn’t even rightly walk down to the throne room in this state.

“Not unless a rather nasty cold has become the new plague of Camelot.” he answered, “you should have come back sooner from your last errand, Hisirdoux, before it started to pour.”

Hisirdoux groaned, either out of his achy, miserable condition, or frustration with hearing the old man lecture him, or both.

“I know, I know-”

A wet cough cut him off, making him curl up before he flopped back down on the bed.

“Ugh, ithn’t there thome…” he swallowed, as if to clear his throat of sickly gunk as best he could without another hacking, “I dunno, “thickness begone-iuth” thpell, or thomething?”

“I won’t use magic to alleviate your sickness, if that’s what you’re implying.” Merlin denied, “Although unpleasant, your condition is far from serious, and your symptoms should alleviate in a few days, at the most. If I use magic on something so mere, your natural immune system will weaken, and a dependence on magic to maintain your health is dangerous, so-”

“But Mathter-”

“Don’t “But Mathter” me.”

Hisirdoux sighed, a shaky, ugly-sounding thing, too exhausted to even spare a laugh at how Merlin imitated him.

“Magic ithn’t a permithible shortcut…” he started, but he trailed off and punctuated the statement with another little sniffle.

It seemed, remarkably, Hisirdoux remembered a few of Merlin’s teachings, despite his low-grade fever.

Which reminded him…

The Master Wizard sighed and conjured a cold, damp rag, enchanted to not dry out or get tepid. Making sure it was properly folded, he laid it right onto Hisirdoux’s forehead.

“Oh, ‘th nithe…” he mumbled, “thank you…”

“Your plans for today are postponed, of course.” Merlin declared, “You’re to stay here and rest.”

“But-” Hisirdoux’s eyebrows furrowed, “I wath thupposed to go out and do that… that thing… and get the thing… from the plathe…”

Of course, it must have been harder for the boy to think sensibly and make sense than usual.

“And that will wait until your condition improves.” Merlin finalized, “Am I clear?”

Hisirdoux, resigned, nodded.

“Yeth, Mathter… thtaying home it ith, then.”

Before Merlin had anywhere near enough time to be surprised at that word, “home”, Hisirdoux fell right to sleep.

--

Merlin couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt like this before; when he couldn’t tell if he was more terrified or furious.

But he couldn’t be bothered to try to figure that out - not when, after hours of Hisirdoux being late coming back to the castle, a shoddily-written ransom note made its way to the desk of the Master Wizard’s study.

Thankfully, Hisirdoux’s familiar could trace it by it’s unpleasant scent. Merlin followed Archibald as the cat-dragon followed the scent trail to some disgusting hovel in a forest clearing, with some deplorable men hanging around it’s outside.

When Merlin laid eyes on them... he leveled them with any spells he could remember through his rage at them all; at their audacity.

Of course, it had been some incompetent group of bandits, but only a fool equated incompetency with harmlessness; just because these idiots didn’t know what they were doing didn’t mean that Hisirdoux was safe.

So, he shifted his focus on finding his apprentice, even if he had to reduce every board of this blasted cabin to splinters.

But it didn’t come to that; the second Merlin stepped in, he saw him.

Hisirdoux was curled up in a corner, sitting on his heels with his hands bound behind him, his arms bound steadfast to his torso, and a piece of cloth tied between his teeth. He was unharmed, but terrified.

Hisirdoux’s muffled cry that came out when he saw Merlin shattered the old man’s heart.

He never ran faster in his life.

A small, very precise blast from Archie made the bonds around Hisirdoux’s wrists and torso come loose, and when Merlin got to him, he pulled the cloth gag out as fast as he could without hurting him, letting it lay around his neck.

The instant his arms were fully free and Merlin was close enough, Hisirdoux hugged him, clinging to the Wizard for dear life and crying his heart out against his armored shoulder.

“Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?”

Merlin felt Hisirdoux shake his head. He could tell he was swallowing to try to get some moisture back in his mouth. It had probably been dried out by that blasted gag, and who knew if they’d given him any water?

“No, just-” he gasped, “Scared.”

Those bandits would soon forget the very meaning of mercy.

For now, Merlin focused on rubbing soothing circles against the boy’s back, seeing that his ankles were bound. Merlin didn’t even notice before, and Hisirdoux was so hasty - so desperate for comfort that he didn’t even wait. He didn’t even seem to care.

Archie started cutting them loose.

“I-” Hisirdoux hiccuped, “I wanna go home.”

The shattered remnants of Merlin’s heart melted.

Home.

His son wanted to go home.

He sighed, moving one of his hands to cradle the back of the poor boy’s head, passing his fingers through his un-bunned hair.

“Please,” he whined, “take me home.”

Merlin nodded, the side of his head rubbing Hisirdoux’s.

“Right… right.”

--

It was long past nightfall, and the castle was quiet, so Merlin tried to tread the corridors lightly so his armored feet wouldn’t clank against the floor and wake anyone; the last thing he wanted was for any particular moppetish apprentices to stir.

That boy… he had already gone through so much he hadn’t deserved, and for what? To what end? Merlin presumed that before he’d found him in that alley, he’d been treated poorly for being not only a street rat, but a magical one at that. And now, even though he was the Wizard’s apprentice, that treatment hadn’t truly gone away; no, it only shifted onto new grounds: the grounds that... he was the Wizard’s apprentice. Now, much of the animosity sent his way was truly meant for Merlin; directing it at Hisirdoux merely amplified it. Strengthened the blow.

And that blow was strengthened today.

Merlin remembered the note’s creases under his fingertips as it trembled in his shaking hand; the door creaking open with a shriek in its hinges and showing Merlin his apprentice, bound and gagged and terrified in the corner of that hovel; Hisirdoux wailing against his shoulder; the trembling of his son in his arms. He remembered it all.

“Hisirdoux…”

He passed the sleeping boy’s door… and sensed magic from behind it. Unusual magic for this hour. In the little gap between the door and the floor, he could see the blue glow of his magic, too. Unmistakeable.

“...Hisirdoux?”’

He stopped at the door and pushed it open, only to be met with a fretful sight before him (not nearly as bad as the last time he’d pushed a door open to find Hisirdoux today, but it was rather close.)

The boy was thrashing in his sleep - tossing and turning in his blankets to the point where they’d started to tangle around him, which only made his obviously-nightmare-induced thrashing worse. Magic thrummed from his hands as he fought back against… something, and even Archibald, who had curled up on his abdomen to soothe him to sleep earlier tonight, couldn’t quell his night terror.

Merlin knelt down at the boy’s bedside and put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly, “Hisirdoux!”

“N-no! Stop!” he pleaded, thrashing harder to get the hand off him, “Get away! Leave me ALONE! Let me GO!”

Merlin shook him harder.

“HISIRDOUX!” he shouted.

Finally, the boy’s eyes snapped open, and he gasped.

For a moment, he just breathed as lucidity seeped back into him. After realizing he was in the realm of the conscious, he put his hands to the sides of his head.

“Master…” he squeaked, “Where-”

“It’s alright, Hisirdoux. You’re safe.” he assured, “You’re home.”

Honestly, the words just slipped out, for Merlin, shocked by himself, doubted that he would have ever said them otherwise.

And with now-even-wider eyes, Hisirdoux looked just as shocked.

… Well, no good rescinding it now. How could he, really?

“You’re home.”

Hisirdoux nodded, a shaky smile on his face.

“...Home.”

[hihellogoodbyebruh]

Mother’s Day Drabbles

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black!Reader, Miguel Galindo x Black!Reader, EZ Reyes x Black!Reader, Obispo Losa x Black!Reader

Summary: Four drabbles with my four favorite men from Mayans MC commemorating Mother’s Day with their loves.

Warning(s): Grief, loss of a child in the last drabble (sorry to my bishop girls) but the other ones are all fluffy goodness

Word count: 1,545

AN: It’s almost Father’s Day so y’know what sounds good? Reading some EXTREMELY late Mother’s Day drabbles!! lol. I haven’t posted anything in so long and these were in the drafts so here we are. Enjoy these random ideas that popped into my head. Trying to force myself to get into shorter form writing like drabbles and headcanons. As always, questions, comments, and concerns are welcomed. Happy reading! xo

Breakfast in bed - Angel (fluff)

“Daddy shhh! You gots ta be quiet.”

“Lo siento princesa.”

You fought to keep your eyes shut and not smile as they tried and failed at surprising you. You wouldn’t ruin their efforts so you just listened as they came into the bedroom and something was set on your nightstand.

It was silent for a moment before a ball of energy landed firmly on top of you, knocking the wind out of you and fully waking you up.

“Good morning mommy. I made you breakfast in bed.” Your beautiful little girl told you once she saw your eyes open.

A throat cleared and your eyes connected with your husband’s.

“Oh, Daddy helped too.” She added, getting comfortable in your lap as you sat up against your headboard and adjusted the bonnet on your head.

“Oh he did? Well thanks for helping Daddy.” You teased, as he took a seat on the bed next to you.

“Anything for you. Happy Mother’s Day.” Angel leaned in and kissed you on the lips once, twice, three times. The last peck lingered a little too long and the princess was not amused.

“Let her eat! The food is gonna get cold.” She grumbled, and you broke down in giggles. That daughter of yours was a sass machine and she stayed on her daddy’s head. He loved every bit of it.

“Okay, okay.” He relented, a grin on his face. Anything for his girls.

Coming home to a spotless clean house - Miguel (fluff)

As your driver pulled into the driveway of your large home, she sighed knowing your day had only just become. After a full day of work, she knew as soon as you stepped foot in the house you would need to pick up after the kids from their time running the nanny ragged. Then, you’d have to get dinner cooked before wrangling the kids to eat, bathe, and then sleep. No clue if you’d see your husband or if he was having a late night.

You loved your life. You loved your family. Sometimes things could just be a little tiring. But you put that smile on your face and you made your way into the house.

The quiet was the first thing to hit and surprise you. Your home was never this quiet at this time of day. You slowly walked further into the house, your nose guiding you to the kitchen where a delicious aroma caught your attention. As you rounded the corner, you were shocked to see your husband standing at the stove.

“Miguel?” You asked, confused at his presence and the state of the house. Everything was clean and put away. He was at home at a decent time and not off somewhere handling business. Something was going on.

“Hello mi amor.” He walked closer to you before grabbing your face and kissing your lips. You’d missed him today so you added a little pressure to the kiss, but it didn’t last long as there was a burning question on your mind.

“What’s going on? Where are the kids?” You asked, head swiveling, as soon as you ended the kiss, to see if you could spot them. You didn’t even notice Miguel maneuvering you onto one of the kitchen stools.

“The kids are in their rooms, dinner is cooking, the house is clean and you are going to enjoy this chardonnay I bought for you.” He handed you a glass and you took it without complaint. A sweet smile spread across your lips as you realized he did all of this for you.

“You do so many wonderful things for this family. I want you to enjoy your night to yourself. I will handle putting the children to bed and you will relax for the night. Your dinner should be done by the time I get back downstairs but in the meantime, I know you’ve been wanting to catch up on the new season of A Black Lady Sketch Show. It’s queued up in the living room.”

A kid wrangling free night? Your favorite tv show and wine? He already bought you everything you could ask for but this? This is so much better than any present he could have come up with. “How did I get so lucky?” You pondered, a dreamy smile on your face.

“I ask myself the same question every day. Happy Mother’s Day.” He replied, kissing you again before going to fulfill his promise.

Spa day for expectant mom - EZ (fluff)

Knowing what comes with being pregnant and actually experiencing the symptoms are two very different things. You don’t wanna say you underestimated things, but you were in the middle of your third trimester and you weren’t handling things very well.

“EZ!! EZEKIEL!” You hollered for him, from where you sat propped up on the couch. Your back was killing you, you couldn’t see your feet but you knew they were a hot mess, and you just generally felt uncomfortable. You knew it would all be worth it in the end, but the end was taking too damn long to get here.

Your boyfriend had been incredibly understanding of your constant mood swings. When you first told him you were pregnant, he went out and bought a bunch of pregnancy books. He was always reading one that first trimester. Angel would tease him and say he could just google everything, but EZ had always preferred having physical copies of text. He wanted to know everything you’d go through so he could help you deal with it.

You call him now and he doesn’t respond. You grow annoyed, but also slightly concerned because he never doesn’t answer you.

It took several tries but you manage to get yourself off the couch and head back towards your bedroom. When you push the door open, a wide smile breaks out on your face. The lights in the room were dimmed and your favorite candles were lit, bathing the room in a soothing scent. Songs from your ‘self care day’ playlist filled the otherwise silent air. On the bed was the biggest, fluffiest robe you’d ever seen in your life. There was also a basket filled with goodies including face masks, different color nail polish, massage oil, and your favorite snacks.

“What is all of this?” You asked your boyfriend who had almost as big a smile on his face as you did.

“You didn’t seriously think I’d just let your first Mother's Day go by with no acknowledgment, did you?”

You blinked somewhat in surprise. “I...I mean yeah I guess. My first Mother’s Day is next year. Baby Reyes isn’t even here yet.”

“So? You’re carrying our child. You gonna let me spoil you or you gonna keep making excuses why I can’t?” He asked, his eyebrow raised and a sly smirk on his face.

“Spoil away then.” You grinned, holding out a hand for him to take before pampering you for the rest of the night.

Cuddles - Bishop (angst, heed the tw up top please)

The ray from the television was the only light source illuminating the living room. You were laying on your side on the couch, eyes on the tv but not truly paying attention to it. The light from the tv reflected off the tear stains left in her cheeks.

Bishop came back from dealing with club stuff and leaned on the doorway just watching you. He knew it was a rough day for you. Everyday was hard, but today was especially hurtful. He’d be feeling the same way just next month.

He placed his kutte onto the armchair and slipped off his shoes before climbing over you. You jumped a little at his presence but he just gently nudged you up so he could squeeze between you and the back of the couch.

One arm slid under your head and the other rested on your waist as he settled in. The hand on your waist reached out and gently ran a thumb over the little face in the picture frame you held tightly in your hands.

“Our sweet boy.” He whispered, a sad smile on his face.

Your breath hitched and your shoulders began to shake as you silently cried. You missed him so much. The whole day you stayed inside hoping to avoid all the mother celebrations, but that didn’t help. The hurt ran deep and no amount of avoidance could stop it. This day was a special slap in the face and every year the last three years have been spent like this.

Bishop curled the arm under your head until his elbow laid on your clavicle. He wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you tight against him.

“You’ll always be his mother. That love is forever.” He softly but firmly stated before pecking your shoulder over and over.

You released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in at the feel of him squeezing you tightly. It was comforting. He was always holding you together. He understood your pain and even though it hurt worse some days than others, you knew you had to continue on.

But for right now, you would cry in your man’s arms and hope next year went better.