#I'm so scared to say it's in remission

[thebibliosphere]

Tw: restricted medical diet, missing hunger cues, death, general food and chronic illness stuff. (It's a good post tho)

Being able to eat cereal again has unlocked something actually feral in me. I'm so used to not being able to grab a quick little snack that won't have Medical Consequences later that I've pretty much gotten used to just... turning my hunger cues off and running at a deficit of calories.

It takes me literal hours to eat a bag of crisps because if I don't eke it out, my body will reject it. I can't have most fruits because my body will reject them. Raw vegetables will send me to the ER. All the foods I can eat require labor, either past or present, and when you're already running on a deficit of energy from chronic pain and constant hunger, well, that's easier said than done.

But being able to do something as simple as eating cornflakes, either with or without milk, and not have my body go into an anaphylactic meltdown is... This is game-changing.

When I say it has awoken something feral in me, I'm being literal. It's hunger. I'm feeling hunger, and for the first time in literal years, I'm able to sate it without having to burn up precious energy to do it.

And it's just so achingly normal that it feels like it shouldn't be a big deal. It feels ridiculous to feel tearful over a thing like cornflakes. But when I consider the fact that in 2019, I almost died from malnutrition because my nervous system was shutting down, and I couldn't eat anything because my MCAS was so advanced everything was sending me into anaphylaxis I, I just. Yeah.

Crying over cornflakes on a Monday night.

Just MCAS 'remission' things... ✌

[cripplecharacters]

hello! feel free to ignore me if this is slightly outside the boundaries of this account, but i'm a tabletop roleplaying game (ttrpg) designer looking for opinions on mechanics for disability in games.

my game specifically covers a lot of themes that, while not about disability, would make me feel remiss to not include some explicit mention of how physically/mentally disabled characters fit into the greater picture of the game. it has a specific focus on telling stories of diverse characters, for one, and on fighting the unfair capitalist systems that harm these marginalized groups.

my issue lies in how, exactly, to both treat this topic respectfully and make the characters not feel out of place or unbalanced. i've considered several options, and was curious to hear from a physically disabled perspective how to proceed (i am mentally ill & neurodivergent, but to my knowledge not physically disabled).

option one: mention that disabled characters of all kinds are encouraged, and talk about roleplaying them or provide resources for how to handle them respectfully, but don't apply any specific rules with hard mechanics or numbers to them. this option is least likely to be inadvertently misconstrued or written poorly on my part, but may make disability feel like a "flavour" side note.

option two: provide examples for some common disabilities on the mechanical effects (such as a low vision character rolling less dice on rolls to notice visual details) without any "counteracting" mechanics. this one gives mechanical weight to disability, so it feels less like an afterthought, but may discourage people from playing disabled characters as they would be more likely to fail than other characters.

option three: the above, but with mechanical incentives for roleplaying in a way that acknowledges the character's disability. a "benefit", but less "giving a blind character echolocation" and more "gain XP for showing your characters disability and any aids they use" (similar mechanics exist for following your character's goals/personality traits). this would make disabled characters be more on par mechanically with other characters, but i fear it may come across as... viewing disabled characters as not worth it without some sort of benefit, i suppose?

apologies for the long rambling message, but i'd love to hear which of these options (or another suggestion) you'd be happiest to see in a game written by someone who isn't physically disabled! this is far from the focus of my game, but it's still an important part of the greater theme that i'd love to be able to get right. thanks! (similarly, if there are any groups not covered in the "underrepresented but common disabilities" post from your FAQ that you'd want to see in a game, i'd also be happy to hear those!)

Hello!

First things first, thank you so much for thinking about this! This isn't something that most TTRGs consider and, as a massive nerd who plays DND, Pathfinder, and other tabletop games, this has always been a big pet peeve of mine since making a disabled character is always unnecessarily hard to do with the game mechanics and rarely works out well.

Most of the time, I have to talk to my GM about how to make it work in their game and, unfortunately, I'm often told they won't allow it because it's "too much trouble".

This is all just to say, I really love the idea here and the fact that you're actually thinking about these things and wanting to do well by them is great!

Now, taking a look at the options:

Option One

One of the unfortunate things that I see a lot is people that are too scared to get something wrong with representation (Or social justice on a broader scale) that they don't try to do it at all. With this current era of cancel culture and people's reactions to what they deem 'offensive', it's understandable to be a bit apprehensive but if you're approaching the subject from a place of respect and you're receptive to learning and improving, most people will appreciate the effort.

While this option does sidestep the main issue you've identified, I do think it sidesteps the attempt at making disability part of your game as well. You can encourage people to make disabled characters all you want but without any real content for them in the game, it won't do much.

If you do go with this option, I'd strongly suggest including some information on the culture of your world and how it relates to disability, both to provide more substance to the content and to give players a bit to go off of when making a disabled character.

Option Two

I like this option much more than the first one, though I do agree that it may discourage people from choosing to play a disabled character.

Within the game mechanics, I think it makes a lot of sense to have these kinds of effects but I would encourage you to include more variety with it. Disability isn't 'one size fits all' and two disabled people can have different needs, strengths, and experiences -- even if they have the exact same disability. Instead, I'd suggest going for a slightly different model that includes more choices.

For example, a character with low vision may:

- Roll lower on perception checks involving vision

or

- Have disadvantage with ranged weapons/attacks

or

- Have lower rolls/less success in dim lighting

Do you see where I'm going with this?

Having more options for how the character's disability affects them allows players to make a choice for how they want to play the character while also encouraging them to think more about how their character's disability might affect them and impact their life.

The examples given are all reflections of how blindness can affect somebody. Blind spots or blurry vision can make it more difficult to notice certain visual changes, severe nearsightedness can make it difficult to aim/focus on things that are far away, night blindness can make it difficult to see in the dark or in dim lighting, etc. That being said, there are dozens of other ways to go about this (Though I'd advise sticking to five options per disability at most to avoid overwhelming people).

Option Three

Personally, I like this one and the second option the most. Although I understand where your concerns are coming from, it feels less like it's implying that disabled characters have to be 'worth it' and more like it's just balancing it out.

Like with the second option, I'd suggest going for more of a choice model here where the player can pick what 'benefit' (For lack of better word) that their character has -- or even to choose no benefit at all.

Many physically disabled people develop our own skills or tools to compensate for where we struggle, whether this is an intentional decision or just something that happens.

For example, my boyfriend is paralyzed from the waist down and uses a wheelchair full time. As a result, he has kick-ass upper body strength from it.

Similarly, many deaf and hard of hearing people are more observant when it comes to visual cues and many blind people are more sensitive to other senses (Though, of course, the whole 'super senses' thing is a myth).

While this isn't true of all disabilities or all disabled people in general, it is something worth considering.

That being said, if you do decide to implement this option, make sure that the benefit makes sense for the disability or is related in some way and isn't just something random being tacked on -- that would make it seem more like a 'disabled characters need to be worthwhile' thing.

As a few extra notes:

If you go with the second or third option, I'd suggest separating the different stat effects into different types of disabilities. You don't need to go too into specifics with it but something like 'low vision/blindness/vision loss', 'deafness/hearing loss', 'limited mobility', and 'chronic illness' would work. While disabilities are more nuanced than this in real life, setting it up this way would keep it pretty simple and allow players to tweak the mechanics slightly for their own characters.

If you go with the first option, I'd probably avoid discussing how to roleplay disabled characters. Because roleplay and character development is much more open than stats and game mechanics are, showing one or two 'proper' ways to play a disabled character is more likely to reinforce stereotypes, dismiss certain experiences that disabled people have, or just come across as more of a 'lecture' than anything. The same goes for including information on what to avoid. I'd stick to providing information about your world and how disabilities are seen in them instead of giving instructions here.

I'd suggest including ways for players to bypass the mechanics of disability if they'd like to, even if their character is disabled. That would allow for a bit more freedom with how they portray their character and would also ensure that they aren't being 'penalized' (For lack of a better term) with their stats for playing a disabled character. As a bit of an example of what I mean: A character in DND could have been a criminal growing up without necessarily taking the Criminal/Spy background.

In general, I think as long as you're approaching this respectfully (Which you are!) and reaching out to physically disabled people for their input (Which you are!), you don't have to worry too much about misrepresenting it.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[canonicallysoulmates]

Another year has come and gone, and y’all know what that means, it’s time to look back at some of the j2 moments 2022 has given us. 

We start the year with the boys excited at the opportunity to work together again, with Jensen set to join Jared on the Walker set to direct an episode! When asked about it during Dallascon in February Jared said that he couldn’t wait, and that the most exciting part for him was going to be getting to introduce a lot of the cast and crew to one of the people who helped him grow up and helped him learn how to do what he does, and that he would be showing Jensen off on set. And show him off he did! But let's not get ahead of ourselves...

March and April were packed with j2 goodies from the Walker set!

We got the boys in matching shirts ❤️:

Some social media husbandness:

"You can direct me any time" We know, Jared. We know 😏

The cute fun of Jared getting Jensen a different chair back for each day he was there directing:

When asked what it had been like to work together again the boys were sweet and sentimental answering, that it was like they never stopped.

And Jensen saying about his shorthand with Jared that: "There’s nobody else I can do that with. He and I have that, and we’ll always have that. That’s not something that fades away."

Y'all know I'm not gonna forget to mention that Jared gave the cast and crew a whole speech, on Jensen's birthday, telling them about how important Jensen has been in his life! 💕 

March also gave us not one but two public date nights! One to a UFC fight:

And the second when Jensen took Jared to The Boys EW party!

Before we continue I feel like I'd be remiss to not take a second to mention that April ended on a scare because Jared did have a bad car accident which we found out about through Jensen, who is the person Jared gave permission to reveal the news. So, let's take a second to be thankful for our boy's health and well being🙏

Continuing on to happier things, and the rest of the year....

We got matching husbands at the CW Upfronts:

So handsome 😍

We love a supportive hubby:

In Jared’s third appearance on Rosenbaum's podcast he gushed about Jensen saying the most beautiful stuff like:

About introducing Jensen to the Walker cast and crew:

Making it clear that he loves and belives in Jensen:

And these are just snippets, this man gushed about Jensen several times, and for like 5mins and he would have done it for longer if Rosenbaum hadn't stopped him.

During the gold panel of Orlcon Jared was struggling with the heat so Jensen got him a fan for the main panel:

He's always taking care of his boy 🥰

He also had some lovely things to say about Jared producing his own show post-spn, saying that he doesn’t know many people in their profession personally that is more well equipped than Jared to do that job and he’s doing it now with grace and dignity and talent and success.

During Torcon Jared was all emotional, and he even cried, and at one point somebody in the crowd shouted at Jared to not start crying again so Jensen jumped to his defense saying he could cry if he wanted to.

Because of work Jared was not able to join Jensen at JIB but distance is not gonna stop these two and we still got some lovely moments like how Jared described Jensen: Jensen’s loyal, strong, and kind like a lab. He’s not as boisterous but he’s down for anything and he can do anything. He’s always up to work hard, he’s a loyal friend, a loyal family member. So he’d be like a lab you can count on him, he’s always gonna be there for you. 💕

And Jensen saying that Jared completes him 💞

Which he tries to play off and acts all bashful about yet a minute earlier he was talking about Jared's farts saying how he doesn't miss them and then going “maybe a little bit”. Its been months and I still haven't been able to process this because do you know how much you have to love someone to miss their farts? This is both cute and gross.

September gave us date night!

x

There was this soft moment during Kansascon:

Jensen shared that he has told the story of how he and Jared met on the Big Sky set 🥺

This is not really a hat thing but I'm really proud of them for this so I'm taking a second to include it, they got honored by the former mayor of Lawrence, Kansas! They were presented with a proclamation that Lawrence, Kansas is the official hometown of Sam and Dean Winchester, and they even got license plates with Jared’s saying Lil Bro and Jensen’s saying Baby.

Jared got sick with covid, again, so he was not able to attend Vancon but Jensen was thinking of his boy 😭:

During Phoenixcon we got a glimpse as to how they handle their currently long distance relationship with the boys answer basically boiling down to them being used to having to be away from loved ones and having to go long stretches without seeing someone they hold so dear but when they are together they are present in the moment.

We end the year with flirting, heart eyes, fondness, the boys making each other laugh and this:

Btw, this was Jared's reaction to a fan saying that men who choose Ryan Gosling - which Jensen did - tend to be more romantic.

We also got the reminder that Jared and Jensen share underwear😏

And that my friends are some of the j2 moments 2022 gave us!

Much like years prior, I hope this post acts as a little beacon of positivity and a reminder of the love that these two men continue to share. May 2023 gift us with even more wonderful moments💌

Happy New Years! 🥂

[vibratingskull]

The last farewell

Part1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

Tags : Angst/hurt/comfort, physical remission, hospital, reader is disabled

You spend your time in the hospital learning how to walk again when Thrawn visits you with an unexpected demand

FemaleReader x Thrawn

“Another step”, the meddroid proposes its voice echoing in the gymnase. 

You hold down the parallel bar and take another step, unsure. 

You're trembling, searching for your balance on those robotic legs. You're not used to them yet. They feel foreign to you despite connecting to your nervous system. Your muscles are shaking as you relearn how to walk. 

You lost so much. 

“Continue the rehabilitation, you are on the right track!” the droid speaks with what is surely supposed to be coded as excitement in the voice, but it just comes out weird. 

You sit on your wheelchair and take out the legs, you still have an immense hill ahead of you. 

You sigh. You're tired. 

“Let's go to your room,” the droid informe stepping forward to push you. 

“No. I'll do it myself,” you decide, waving at him to get out of your way. 

You roll in the hallway, lost in your thoughts. You have so much work ahead of you, so much to reconquer… You're supposed to receive the visit of lower officers but you don't want their pity thrown in your face, you need peace. 

You want peace. 

You arrive at his room. 

You don't get your hopes up, but you can't help it. 

You pass the door… and sigh. 

Vez is still in a coma. 

You roll up to his bed. 

“Hello friend. It is particularly sunny today, you would love to stroll in the garden and sketch some plants.“

He is unresponsive. It's not like a doctor told you he would wake up soon, but it still pains you to see. 

If they have been cruel to you, they have been down right animalistic to Vez. His legs have been cut and he lost both of his lekkus. You're not totally aware of what it entails but you remember the lekkus hold some brain tissues. The docs say he will not have long term brain damages but you doubt he will see it that way. What they took was irreplaceable and you're afraid of his reaction. 

For now he's sleeping peacefully as you were, unaware of his body's damages. Like you his brain puts him in a deep sleep to prevent him from damaging his psyche, docs say he will wake up when the brain will have finished processing what happened but he can still hear around him and feel some sensations. So you come here everyday to talk, to vent, to speak of everything and nothing, trying to put him at ease the best you can. You take his hands, caress his forehead, his cheek, you tell him tales of Ryloth and your own planet, anything you could think about. After the Chimaera left you both at a military hospital you observed these habits religiously. Thrawn wanted first to put Vez in a civil hospital but you refused and fought him on that until he surrendered. You wanted to be here when your friend woke up. 

“I'm making progress with the legs, I thought they would be heavier but once they have been connected to your nervous system they are so light.“

Your hand reaches for the metallic apparatus they jabbed in your spine to control the legs and grazes it lightly.

“We don't stop medical progress,” you say almost to yourself.

You hear his bed neighbor cough, you tilt your head to see if they need help. 

“By the way, yesterday your mom tried to see you. She can't because it's a military hospital but your family is worried about you. I could discuss a bit with her, you're so alike it is fascinating, you caress his cheek, you take his hand and squeeze it. Don't worry, I'll ask Thrawn to put pressure on the direction so she could see you.” 

“A Grand Admiral influence is not supposed to be used as such,” a voice rises behind you. 

You jump in your wheelchair before turning your head to Thrawn, hands clasped behind his back with an interrogative gaze. 

“You scared me,” you chastise him. “How did you know I was here ?” 

“I knew you would not be present at your own meeting with the officers, you were not in the gymnase, it was the only logical option.” 

You nod. Of course. He comes to sit next to you and observe the body of Vez in silence. 

“He did not wake up?” He asks with a soft voice. 

“Not yet,” you shake your head. “The doctors aren't optimistic.“

He nods in silence. 

”Why are you here ?” You inquire. 

He turns towards you with a puzzled look. 

“To give you what you asked me,” he responds like it was obvious. 

You can see the bag he's transporting

“Yes of course, but what are you doing here, on Coruscant ?” 

“I have a martial court about how I supposedly almost destroyed a city to retrieve you.” 

You flush. 

“Didn't you ?” You tease. 

“Absolutely not, each parameter was studied to do the least damage possible, but it was impossible not to deal some damage to the buildings nearby. The arrest of a large slave abductors demanded some sacrifices.” 

He sounds almost angry, but you know better. You hide your smile, it is pretty funny to see Thrawn flounder in politics, it has an innocent and moving side to it. Without thinking about it you take his hand and kiss it. He looks you in the eyes with an unreadable expression. You immediately regret it, maybe he doesn't like physical demonstration of affection in public… 

“Let me escort you to your room,” he says. 

He rises and goes to push your wheelchair, once again you refuse. 

“No, no, no. I can do it. Let me do it.” 

You head towards the room, side by side, he gently adjusts his pace to yours. You advance in silence in the corridors. 

You really hope you didn't cross a line with him… 

You enter, he goes straight to open the window while you maneuver to go to bed. He closes and locks the door and sits on the bed. You look at him with sorry spelled in your eyes. He grasps your hand and caresses it with his thumbs. 

“ I heard you will soon be interrogated by the ISB agents.”

“In three days,” you sigh,” it promises to be hilarious.”

“It is for the good of the Empire.”

“Sure…”

You gulp, in reality you try as much as you can to not think about what happened or you feel yourself overflowed by hate, anger and sorrow. 

It’s eating you alive, terrifying you. You may or may have not exaggerated certain symptoms to get a higher dosage of the drugs to get high and forget. You don’t brag about it to Thrawn, obviously.

“ The date of the trial have been chosen,” he continues

You dig your nails in the sheet.

“Okay…”

Thrawn already explained to you how Nather was surprised by the flash operation, how him and his goons fighted in each rooms, how much lives he took, how he almost made the entire structure collapse on itself with everyone under it when he realized he was trapped but was swiftly disarmed by a precise shot of one of the Stormtroopers. Now he remains silent, surrounded by his army of lawyers in the prisons of the Empire, he refuses to give any intel or names to the ISB agents, hiding behind his pride and his fan. As a prominent Governor he doesn't get the rough treatment, but they are not nice to him either, he holds on surprisingly well. 

You’re not ecstatic at the idea of seeing him again, even in the perspective of his own trial. You’re happy justice will be served, but you don’t know how you’ll react in his present. Will you burst into tears or try to kill him on the spot? Maybe you will go into a deafening torpor and dissociate completely from your body. You don’t know… for now the simple idea of seeing him again makes you sick. 

Thrawn puts your hand to his lips and kisses it delicately. 

“I know it is painful and uncomfortable, but it must be done, he tries to comfort you, be strong.”

You gulp.

“ … Will you be with me?”

“ I have to give my own testimony, so yes. I will be at your side.”

You feel relieved to hear that, knowing that you won’t be alone in this trial alleviate the pain and ease the knot in your stomach.

Thrawn reaches for the bag, changing the difficult subject

“I brought you what you asked for.”

You take it to verify what it holds. You found your purse, the key to your apartment, some holos, your personal datapad… You thank him with a heartfelt smile. He nods with a serious face. 

“There is also an important matter I wish to discuss with you,” he says with the most stern face. 

“Okay ?” 

You brace yourself, he looks a bit tense and that scares you. What could possibly put him in this state ? Are you both suspected in the affair? Did you do something wrong? Outside of getting yourself imprisoned like a damn rookie. Is he gonna criticize your tactical decisions on that day? Is he entangled in problems after helping you out? Did they criticize him for engaging in armed conflicts while on supposed vacation. Come to think of it, he surely didn't take any vacations and planned this from the beginning. 

You look at him ready for any slap across the face, but he manages to surprise you. 

“(Y/n), would you live with me?” 

The air is punched out of your lungs and you can't think straight during three seconds 

“ Would I… What ?” 

By reflex you retract your hand from his and pull the sheet over yourself. 

“Would you live with me?” 

“Yes, I heard the first-I mean… Urgh... Why ?” 

He holds his chin like he is gathering arguments. 

“I do not think you will be able to keep the apartment Governor Satlove is paying for you.” 

You tried to push that thought away so many times, but he's right, unfortunately. 

“And I am already living in the apartment you rent me, I think we should try.”

Well, you didn’t see him as that keen but it looks like you were wrong. And you can’t help a snarky remark.

“ Isn’t it just an adroit ploy to stop paying me your rent?” You grin.

“ No, I am serious, I think we can both benefit from that idea.”

“ I know. It’s a joke. I was joking.”

He looks like he’s computing the info. 

You munch on your lower lip, feeling like a little girl. You giggle, squirming on the bed like a child. 

You never lived with one of your… partners? 

“It seemed to me like a good solution, but I understand you would not appreciate the idea,” he tempers.

“No, no, no! It’s a good idea! It’s just… It’s so sudden.”

“ I figured that is what people like us tend to do.”

“ And what “people like us” are?” You ask.

He seems to think about it.

“Ch'an'ecivon'ot.”

“I have no idea what that means.” You smile wryly

“In basic you would say…” He caresses your hand with the tip of his fingers “Soulmates.”

You freeze again, processing the info.

“That is what we are then?” you ask breathlessly. “Isn’t it a tad dramatic?”

“You think?” He smiles lightly “I thought about us and I liked how that sounded.”

He seems to notice your reluctance.

“I shocked you.”

“No? No, no,no” You try and temper “It’s just that you're coming out really strong and serious and…”

“Yes, I am serious. I am serious about our relationship. Are you not?”

“I… Didn’t have time to properly think about it.” You admit.

He gauges you up and down.

“Do you love me?” he asks bluntly.

You're so taken aback, being cornered like that. Your mouth and throat are dry, you open your lips to speak but nothing comes out.

You love him.

You do, oh yes you do.

But you never worded it, and even less spoke it out loud.

He seems to relax and smile sadly at your discomfited expression.

“Pardon me. It is wrong of me to ask you without telling you first. I should not have put you in a corner like that.” He gently holds your face and kiss your forehead, “Do not fret, cha’cah.”

You slowly relax under his touch.

“Alright, I must go now. I wish you a rapid recovery… “

He seems to hesitate. 

“And come back to me quickly,” he said it so low you almost didn’t hear it.

But you did hear it.

He kisses your forehead and leaves the room.

You look in your purse if he didn’t put your comlink in, but find something else. With a raised eyebrow you take out the envelope simply signed with “Eli”. You completely forgot about that. You never took the time to read the last letter your friend left for you.  You open it carefully, taking ou the folded sheet of paper.

“ (Y/n), I hope this letter finds you better than when I left. I must leave to help Thrawn, but I trust we will see each other again, if you stay by his side it is bound to happen, I am sure. Do not leave his side, it is the most secure place in all the galaxy, and I have reason to think you are not safe. I had the occasion to speak with Governor Satlove alone, and this man sent shivers down my spine, I see nothing behind his eyes but a black void. I do not trust this man (Y/n) and so should you, something is not right with him. He made some inappropriate advances and tried to convert me to his church without my interest. I pushed him back but he insisted. There is something about him downright animalistic and uncivilized despite the dignity he drapes himself in. I had the occasion to speak about it with Thrawn and he agreed with me. Do not refuse the help of a friend, and accept my warning. I picked upon your disdain towards me recently, and even though I don’t know why I want you safe. If I ever did something to anger you, know that I am truly sorry. I wish I could tell you face to face, but I have to go. 

Farewell my friend, I hope to see you under better auspices.

Eli.”

This time tears roll down freely, your body is shaken by sobs, your hands holding the letter tremble erratically. 

“Eli… Oh Eli…” You cry.

How could you? How could you doubt him? Your own friend. But maybe you don’t deserve to call him friend after how you treated him. You hold the letter against your heart. He never deceived you, it’s all Nather’s fault, isolating you more and more, until you had no friend remaining. But he couldn’t get rid of Thrawn and Eli completely. And he won’t be able anymore…

“Hey, girl! How are you feeling?”

You raise your head in surprise, an overjoyed Karyn is here but her expression changes immediately when she sees you crying. She immediately sits on the bed and takes your hand.

“What’s happening (Y/n)?”

“Eli… Eli…“ You can’t formulate a proper sentence.

She takes you in her arms and cradles you.

”We will find him. I promise,” she assures.

She doesn't know the truth, and it is not your place to reveal it. So you just hug her back, squeezing her in your arm, appreciating the warmth of a friend.

@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hello! here in a few weeks i'm going to get a transvaginal ultrasound done, which will be my first pelvic exam, as well as my first time having anyone root around down there.

needless to say i'm a bit nervous! is there anything i should know or do beforehand? any tips to make the experience less awkward?

hi anon,

I'm going to borrow some explanation from our friends at Cleveland Clinic, because I like some of the info here. I'd definitely recommend checking out the page for an in-depth explanation of what transvaginal ultrasounds are and how they work for anyone who has questions about the procedure, and they have some helpful tips for how to prepare:

Wear clothes that you can slip out of easily. You will have to remove your pants and underwear, and you may have to wear a gown. Remove your tampon before the procedure if you’re on your period. Follow your provider’s instructions about when to drink fluids and go to the bathroom. Having a full bladder affects the way your organs appear on an ultrasound. You may need to arrive at your appointment with a bladder that’s empty, full or partially full.

I'm particularly fond of this note on shaving:

Do I need to shave for a transvaginal ultrasound? No. Having pubic hair won’t prevent you from having an ultrasound. Groom to your comfort before the procedure.

hell yes! groom to your comfort!

there are also these helpful notes as to what you can expect to actually physically happen during the process:

Your ultrasound will occur in an ultrasound room in a hospital, private radiology practice or clinic for obstetric and gynecological imaging. In some instances, your provider may order an abdominal ultrasound before your transvaginal ultrasound. Both imaging procedures together provide a more comprehensive view of your pelvic organs that may be needed, depending on your symptoms. You’ll lie on an examination table as if you were having a pelvic exam — with your knees bent, and your feet possibly in stirrups. Your provider will place a condom and a warm lubricating gel on the transducer and gently insert it inside your vagina. Once it’s inside your body, the transducer releases sound waves that record pictures of your pelvic organs. These images get projected onto a screen. The technician performing the ultrasound may ask that you lie still or shift your body so that the transducer can record your pelvic cavity from different angles. The technician may perform additional steps if you’re having saline-infusion sonography, or a sonohysterogram. Once enough images are taken for a thorough analysis, the technician will remove the transducer.

now, the place where I have to disagree with ol' Cleveland Clinic comes in the next section, where our well-meaning writer assures you that no, this absolutely will not hurt because the ultrasound wand is curved and will have lube on it. the real tell is the sentence where they say that a transvaginal ultrasound "may feel similar to a Pap smear," which is actually a very painful process for a lot of people (myself included, hi!). especially considering that a transvaginal ultrasound generally takes much longer than a pap smear, I would be remiss not to point out that this shit can fucking hurt - especially if you're unaccustomed to people rooting around down there.

I don't say that to scare you, only to let you know the full reality of what you're dealing with here. as much as possible, please don't go in shaking and afraid and certain of suffering - that will make things so much worse. just be upfront with your care providers about your lack of experience with penetrative exams and set expectations together before the procedure starts. ask them to start out slow, and make sure it'll be okay to take breaks if you start getting overwhelmed. I've definitely benefitted from having my gyno pull out the speculum and give me a break so I can take another run at a pap smear when I've had a chance to collect myself a bit, and even just knowing that the option is there to call for a timeout can be a huge comfort.

also, hey: if you're worried about how the transvaginal ultrasound will go, it may be helpful to talk to your healthcare providers about having a backup plan in place. many gynecological health issues can be assessed with non-penetrative ultrasounds; will that be an option for you if necessary?

tl;dr: talk to your healthcare providers about literally any and all of your questions/comments/concerns. don't worry for literally a second about seeming dumb or awkward; they've definitely heard weirder questions and they've seen too much genitalia to think yours is weird.

[askinkiskarma]

Illicit Affairs | Oneshot: The Moment I Knew

Pairing: Neteyam x Human!Reader

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: It's your 17th birthday, and the gift you get from Neteyam is not one you would have ever thought of - or wanted.

Warnings: angst

Word Count: 2k words

A/N: I have been writing a lot of memories for the next few chapters of The Archer, and I found myself writing about the fated 17th birthday, which makes an appearance in Chapter VII of Illicit Affairs. I'm doing a lot of writing atm, I am trying to get the fifth chapter done ASAP, but enjoy this tiny story and insight into the day Neteyam left 🥰.

What do you say when tears are streaming down your face in front of everyone you know?

And what do you do when the one who means the most to you is the one who didn't show…?

And they're all standing around me, singing Happy Birthday to you

But there was one thing missing and that was the moment I knew

You woke up with a big yawn and an hopeful disposition today, your 17th birthday. You wanted to say it was because another year had passed, or because you knew people would be giving you gifts and attention and all sorts of good food today, but if you were being honest with yourself, you knew it was because you got to see Neteyam again.

Neteyam was a great gift giver. He paid attention, and he listened and he cared, so every year, his present was always your favourite. Ever since around your tenth birthday, when he first gifted you an identical bracelet to his, he always managed to surprise you with a perfect gift that made your heart skip a beat - or several. You haven’t seen him since that day, in the clearing, when you sang him that song, and hoped he knew what it meant. You didn’t get to confess the way you wanted to, you cowered at the last minute, but you hoped your birthday courage would allow you to finally tell him the feelings that have plagued you for probably years now. 

You were scared. You knew deep down you probably shouldn’t even do it - I mean what was the point? It’s not like you could ever be together anyway, not like he would sacrifice his title and his future mate, the future Tsahik of the Omatikaya for you, a human girl. He couldn’t, you wouldn’t allow him to, so why were you even confessing? At the least it would make everything awkward and at the most it would ruin the best thing that has ever existed in your life. You couldn’t even decide what would be worst - him not reciprocating or him reciprocating? Cause either way it’s hell inbound, and you had enough of that in your life. 

Despite everything, though, every nagging thought telling you not to, you wanted to, needed to finally tell him. You would deal with the consequences as they come, but you couldn’t be a coward any longer. If you had to act like you didn’t have a heart attack every time he got close to you, every time he touched you, every time he looked at you in that way, the way that was reserved only for you, you would go crazy forever. 

You were happy to see Kiri and Lo’ak, coming by, as they always did, with a big basket of fresh fruit and food, your birthday feast, and staying with you for the day, as they always did. When you were younger, much younger, you used to celebrate in the village, with Jake and Neytiri, but those days are long gone. Later in life, you celebrated in the forest, climbing and hiking, wild and free, but those days were long gone too. Nevertheless, no matter how much you have changed, the care they had for you never diminished, and neither did their desire to celebrate you in whatever form you felt you were able to withstand. 

The oldest Sully’s presence did not go remiss in your mind, every moment without him accelerating your worries that something was wrong. 

“Hey… where’s Neteyam?” 

You saw the siblings exchange a quiet, strange look. Neither of them looked at you as Kiri talked.

“He’s with the hunting party today, he couldn’t get out of it.” 

“Today?”

“Yes…”

“But he never has anything going on on my birthday, Jake always makes sure of it.” 

“I don’t think it was fully up to dad, Angel… I’m sure he’ll be back later.” 

You saw Kiri flash a look of anger towards her brother, and your heart sank a little at the interaction. This was weird, but you thought maybe he was preparing a present for you that would take extra time. It has happened before, but it was always worth it in the end. 

The hours passed, and you mostly finished the basket full of food between the three of you, splayed careless on some blankets you brought in the hub as a big projector was playing some of your favourite films. Your mood soured a little throughout the day, regardless how many sweet fruits you have injested, regardless of the calmness of your surroundings and the friendly faces who were attentively watching the latest picture playing on the screen. 

As it finished, the two siblings got up, and Lo’ak awkwardly scratched the hair on the side of his head. 

“Angel, we have to go, it’s past curfew and we’re -“

“-going to get in trouble with Jake, I know.” You sighed deeply, walking with them to the entrance.

“Thank you for hanging out with me, guys. I had a good time. Thank Neytiri, Jake and Mo’at for the food, and thank you for the gifts, I already love my new bracelet!” You said, twisting your wrist so the beads on the beautiful thread sang when pushed together. 

“You’re very welcome. Happy birthday, again, and we’ll see you in a couple of days.”

You didn’t know if you should push it, and, as they were almost out the door, you found your voice again.

“Hey… if you see Neteyam, tell him I’m still waiting. I’ll probably run some experiments, so I’ll be up for a while… in case he still wants to come.” 

You didn’t want to see their expressions, too scared to read something that will hurt you on their faces, so you just shut the door and left. 

You paced around the labs and hallways and your room for the rest of the night, terrified as you were that you were going to miss Neteyam’s soft knock. He always thought of everything, was always too scared to wake anyone up, or to let anyone know he was sneaking way past curfew to stay with you for the night, before he always had to sneak off again prior to his family getting up and figuring out he was gone. You didn’t want him to be outside, in the cold and dark, with apex predators lurking at every corner, waiting for an opportunity to feast on a particularly good-looking blue boy. 

It was dawn when you made it back to your room, feeling emptiness envelop your being, like your soul had been washed out and taken to the cleaners. You sat in your bed, back against the headboard, and thought about the last month. You haven’t seen Neteyam in all that time, ever since that day in the clearing. He had a weird look about him after you sang him the song, but you thought that was just him processing what you were trying to say to him, you thought it was him scared, as you were, about the prospect of more, about the possibility of everything changing between you. You thought he felt the same way, you felt like you were both on the same page - it felt to you that you had both fallen for each other in time, your love blossoming from the friendship that you have always shared into more, much more. Now you realised it wasn’t that which gave him that look. It was most likely the opposite. He knew what you were saying, and didn’t feel the same way. 

You haven’t seen Neteyam in all this time. You thought he was training, but he wasn’t. He just didn’t want to see you. He didn’t want to see you anymore. 

The way your heart shattered at the thought took your breath out of you, like you got punched in the gut. You didn’t know what to do with this pain, that was so feral and so severe, you genuinely felt like you were going to die. You lay in your bed, gasping for air, grasping at your chest, trying to will your heart to slow down, to piece itself back together, but to no avail. Neteyam was gone. Neteyam left you, without even saying goodbye. Neteyam watched you confess, and decided he wanted nothing else to do with you anymore. You lost him, like you lost your mum and your dad, lost him after 17 years, and you were alone again. 

You were alone again. 

Neteyam felt throbbing in his head as he woke up that morning, that continued the whole entire day. He took the day off today, knowing he would be unable to focus on anything, knowing that today, you would definitely realise what he has done. It was your birthday, one of his favourite days in the world. It was a day to celebrate you, the light in his life, his Atan, of course he loved it. And now he had to live with knowing his present would be his absence, and that he would have to live with the consequences of ruining this day for you, and the consequences of breaking your heart. His has been long broken, since the second he walked out of that clearing knowing he would never return. After eclipse, he saw his siblings returning with an empty basket, and his heart hurt at the still open and unhealed wounds. 

“Brother, are you sure about this?” 

He sighed, not being able to look at his baby sister. 

“Yes, sister, I am sure.”

“She asked for you.” Lo’ak said. “Multiple times.” 

“She said she’ll still be waiting, in case you decide to drop by later.” 

“For what is worth, I think this whole thing is stupid. We’re her only family, and now you’re gonna take another person away from her, bro?” 

Neteyam winced at his brother’s words, that cut him like a dull knife, painful and rusted, that will never heal, but fester and linger, forever. 

“I’m going for a walk.”

“Brother, it’s past curfew.”

“I don’t care, tell mother and father I’m taking Seze out.” 

He left in a hurry, unable and unwilling to register the muffled words spoken to him in a blur. He found his ikran immediately and took flight, knowing exactly where he had to go. He made it to the lab in no time, knowing the ride like the back of his hand by now. 

He quickly hurried towards the door, thinking he will abandon this whole endeavour and beg for your forgiveness. It would take a while, but you always forgave him. And he could finally tell you that he loved you, that he has been in love with you for so long he’s lost track, and he could kiss you, the way he’s wanted to for so long, and everything else you can just figure out as you go along. 

But then, every step he took was a memory he would never be able to ever erase from his mind, every step a recollection of times he’s been here because you were hurt or pained or near death, all because of him. He swore he could still see your dried blood on the stairs leading up to your door from where you were 13 and you fell down his ikran. He could see your limp form in his arms when you collapsed after you found your dad. His hand reached as far as a couple inches from the door before he stopped, and with shard of glass protruding in his already broken heart and tear drops staining his cheeks, he dropped his hand and left. He didn’t go far, though, circling around the big enclosure until he found the window he knew was looking into your room and just sat there, collapsing on the floor with his back against the cold metal, listening to the sound of music coming out of your recorder.

And I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

That's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

He stayed there, on the cold hard ground, listening to the music playing until dawn, until his heart was empty, until his soul was spent. Until he knew he lost you - forever.

[welcome-to-oslov]

Loving Tilrey at the "beginning" and "end" and my gosh are you spoiling us! I'm not even so scared anymore that Oslov Unraveled means this is all coming to an end... b/c I can see your love for this universe even more & so much more to tell & can't imagine you ever stop writing!

I still can't wait to see Tilrey's relationship with Bror deepen during his terrible young years in All Kinds of Broken 🤗🔥

I know the relationship will be challenged by all he goes through and will have faded back down to deep friendship by the time of A Serviceable Boy - a deep love on Bror's part, both their parts, that's still with us now in Oslov Unraveled.

But now in this moment in AKoB where they're about to act on these sparks... love it. I'm glad Tilrey will have something to maybe keep him human during these days of being treated so terribly just piling up on him.

Bror's thoughts about Tilrey were SO beautiful in Ch36! I hope he makes that clear him, after wrapping his own head around what to do. And I hope Tilrey's able to communicate to Bror all the attraction he's felt in moments since they first met - but also have him understand that for the first time since he was taken, this is Tilrey being who he truly is: someone who can blossom/release in this way when he truly feels close to someone, loved by and cares for by someone.

(And ofc I'd be remiss to skimp on the angst that'll surely ensue as Tilrey tries to let go with a man for the first time, while still needing to try to hold himself so tight/protected/blank/controled with all the others to whom he wishes he could say no)

So glad to hear that, and I’m really looking forward to returning to Bror/Tilrey! That will be my little reward for writing all this stuff about mobs, soldiers, and planes, which feels necessary to a revolution story but isn’t really my wheelhouse. 😁 I did sneak a flashback to Bror and Tilrey’s good times into the next chapter of Unraveled, IIRC.

I’ve also been thinking about how to explain why the relationship ended (or trailed off) when it did, since the very existence of the relationship (as more than friends with benefits) is a bit of a retcon. But a reason jumped to mind that feels sad and plausible to me. Namely, Tilrey knows how hard it would be for Bror to see him with bruises. He fears Bror might take action at great risk to himself. He can’t keep his condition entirely secret, but he can put distance between himself and Bror. 😢

[areseebee]

🪲🐝 🍄

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

just shared my response to this in this ask! it's kind of a boring WIP share, sorry. i'm not at a very exciting part of the draft.

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

i mean @derrygirlstrash and @imstressedx are the original homies who have listened to me talk about my writing for at least ten thousand hours and have been beta readers and thought partners and good friends. many of my fics wouldn't exist or wouldn't exist as they are today without them!

but i would truly be remiss not to mention @private-bryan who is the best model of fandom that we've got for the small derry girls corner of the internet - he writes and crafts and binds fics and creates community in doing it. he's the first commenter on mine and so many other's fics, he is always actively sharing from the derry girls tag, and always seems to come at it all with real joy. we should all approach our fandom spaces like PB and the derry girls fandom is lucky to have him.

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

i have a headcanon (that is referenced in this ficlet) that after the carrie moment in 2x05 and james attempting to leave derry in 2x06, erin makes more of an effort to spend time with him and does so under the facade of wanting to watch horror films with james. for fun, i wrote bits and pieces of a counterpart to erin's diary for derrygirlstrash which i called "james's journal," which is where james details erin approaching him about the horror films. here's a couple of excerpts:

Erin is coming over soon. Michelle's not here, so it's just us two. We're going to watch Scream. Ever since Mae's Carrie stunt, Erin says she wants to watch more horror films because she thinks there's a lot to be learned about life in stories where people are facing down their worst fears. I thought Scream would be perfect. Michelle liked it so much and it really subverts so many horror tropes in a clever way. I think she'll really like it.

Erin liked Scream, but she got really scared at a couple of parts. I tried to talk during the parts that were going to be scary, or warned her, but she still grabbed my hand once when Tatum got killed in the garage door. I didn't realise she'd do that. My palm was a little sweaty. I hope she didn't mind. But even though she was scared, she said it's good, like exposure therapy. She wants to watch another horror film next week.

eventually they start on the halloween series, which then gets the rest of the girls interested (to erin's obvious chagrin), but when halloween III rolls around, everyone dips out again (as it is a notoriously controversial installment; this is the film that's referenced in the ficlet i linked above). eventually james begins to suspect that it might not just be about horror films, and is an initial way that james and erin begin to spend more alone time together leading into series 3.

writers truth & dare ask game

[larjb3]

Hello wonderful followers and non-followers who are seeing this post because someone reblogged it!

I absolutely hate doing this, but when I learned that if I take medical leave from my job it will be unpaid, I started a GoFundMe. The reason behind this is because I was recently diagnosed with Ewing Sarcoma. But what is Ewing Sarcoma, you may ask? Well, it's a rare type of cancer that affects bones and soft tissue, and typically affects children and adolescents (mean age of onset is 15-years-old). Needless to say, I am neither a child nor an adolescent. I am an adult, and have been an adult for several years now.

So what does that mean? Basically that this specific type of cancer was beyond super unexpected to my care team, and that I will need an aggressive form of chemotherapy to treat it.

Now, for those who know me, I have already had cancer and gone through chemotherapy in 2012, starting a month after I graduated high school. It was a different type of cancer, with a better success rate of remission. However, going through chemo then was absolutely terrible. I constantly felt terrible - both physically and emotionally. I noted the toll it was taking not only on me, but on those around me who cared for me.

Unfortunately, this time it's a more aggressive form of cancer, which means a more aggressive treatment regimen.

I'll be honest with you, I am absolutely scared. I'm scared about going through chemo (and possibly radiation) again. I'm scared about how this is going to affect my cats. I'm scared about how this is going to affect those around me who care for me and love me. I'm scared about probably losing my independence again. I'm scared about the probability of having to take unpaid medical leave. I'm scared about how I'm going to make it through this financially. I'm honestly scared that I won't survive.

So what am I asking of you?

I'm asking that you keep me in your wishes (and prayers, if you're religious). I'm asking for a potential donation to help me maintain financial stability throughout this coming year (but super not needed if you can't/don't want to). I'm asking you to reblog and share this post so it may reach more people. I'm asking you to take me seriously just this once, because I rarely ask others for help due to a need for hyper-independence (which I'm working on).

Essentially, what I'm asking from you is hope.

I know this diagnosis is affecting me, probably more than I do actually realize. I know I'm losing weight because the numbers keep going down and someone actually commented on it today; and I'm not intentionally losing weight. Would I like to in the long run? Sure. Do I want to lose weight due to the stress of having yet another diagnosis? Absolutely not. I'm always cold. I'm always on the verge of tears. It's constantly on my mind, even when I'm meeting with clients (I'm a therapist). I worry about how others are coping with this, and how I can help them potentially cope a little better. I'm so worried.

So, if you are able and willing, once again here is my GoFundMe link. The story of how I got to this point in my diagnosis is on there, and if you want more information you are more than welcome to reach out to me.

Even if you are unable to donate, I still want to thank you. Thank you for reading this post. Thank you for spending whatever time you did on this. Thank you for existing.

And because friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog told me to tag them in this post, they are being tagged and (hopefully) will see this.

[cleoselene]

tw suicide, cancer

My Uncle Art, who married into the family when he married my Aunt Leslie, he's a great guy. He wasn't always, I'll be honest, he was a real dick for most of my childhood, but he was an alcoholic. And when he quit drinking, it was like a personality switch was flipped and he became this gentle, loving, helpful, compassionate person when he was none of those things before he got sober.

This last month alone, Art has been down from Ohio where he lives to visit his sister, who lives in the same town in Florida as me, three times. He comes down from time to time because he owns the condo she lives in (and pays all her bills and expenses... while she goes through a fifth a vodka a day. How she is alive, not one of us can comprehend. But while he was here, Art took time to A) install a new hot water heater for us and haul the old one out, B) do the same for our dishwasher (and then he went to the grocery store and bought us a huge tub of detergent pods and a bottle of rinse aid, because he's thoughtful like that and noticed we were low on pods when he was fussing around under the sink), and C) fixed the garbage disposal. He didn't have to do any of these things, he volunteered because he's one of those old guys that likes to, as my mom says, "putz around and fix things" because it's his love language, honestly. Acts of service.

Her daughter is a little younger than me? I'm almost 45, I wanna say she's 35. Anyway, I didn't know her super well, but I know her. We shared an aunt and uncle, not quite like a cousin, but she was nice. Chill. She sold me weed at cost (she was a weed dealer) a few times, we smoked out together a few times. She had survived leukemia, and we bonded over being in the Terribel Illness Club, right down to the fact that my disease-modifying drug is Kesimpta, which was used to treat leukemia under the name Arzerra. Bonded over the joys of poisoning your body to save your body.

Well, she unfortunately succumbed to mental illness yesterday, taking her own life. My poor uncle, he is devastated. So is my aunt. It never makes sense when these things happen, and it's sticking with me a little not just because I knew her and considered her a friend, but because she had been in the Awful Illness Club with me and she's beaten hers! I love when people get the diagnosis and beat it! It's one of my favorite things! My roommate had spinal surgery last year and he has recovered so much more mobility than he could have possibly dreamed of and I see him thriving more and more each day and it warms my heart, and he told me he feels bad because he knows there's no miracle procedure to make me suddenly turn around and feel better. But I don't want him to feel that way! I love living off successes like this vicariously!

Anyway, it turns out that leukemia was the one she could beat. Mental illness she could not. I'm so sorry, Emily. I hope you've found peace.

It has been a bad week for uncles. My Uncle Chris was diagnosed with prostate cancer. They think they caught it early, but given that he's 78 years old they have to look everywhere to make sure that's the only place the cancer is. I gotta admit, I'm scared. I know prostate is one of the more survivable cancers, one of my other uncles had it and the treatment was so fast and effective that the extended family didn't know it had happened until he was already in remission. But Chris is not Bob -- he has a much more fragile constitution, and probably an eating disorder? All his life he's been scary skinny and obsessive about his weight. Bob climbs mountains and stuff, Chris sits on his porch and sips vodka and watches the ducks. There's just a whole different level of healthiness here.

Also, to be frank, Chris's wife is a wretched succubus. She is AWFUL to be around because she is one of those people that just CREATES stress out of thin air. It's like her magical power, creating stress out of nothing at all! She has alienated him from all three of his sisters (well my mom not as much, but she also doesn't spend nearly as much time with him as she used to? They used to go to the beach and see the sunset 2-3 times a week. Now it's like. 2-3 times in the last year) .

I am not on speaking terms with the wretched bitch or her daughter (this child has been a brat since birth, and continued to be. Last I talked to her was an argument because she thought I was vagueblogging about her on Facebook, which, lol? I do not care enough about her life to be passive aggressive to her like that. She also accused me of being jealous of her life, which is HYSTERICAL because she has three small children (that she cannot handle and honestly didn't want more than one, but well...) and a Republican husband with the personality of damp toast. He's like 6'7" and I think she fell prey to the "he's not hot, just tall" trap. Anyway my cousin accusing me of being jealous of her life, really funny stuff, she's probably projecting? But sure, she can imagine that i'm jealous of her 3 children under 6 and her ugly inside-and-out husband and her exciting career shilling cleaning products for an MLM scheme.

But I love my uncle and I really am worried between his wife and his daughter they are going to stress him to the grave. They have stressed him out constantly for 4 decades now, don't see any reason they would change when they can both enjoy walking all over him. Which they do. It's depressing. My mom worked with DV offenders for 3 decades and she says their relationship has all the hallmarks of verbal and emotional abuse, and I believe it. Sometimes the things my aunt would say about my uncle would make me tilt my head because it would be some outrageously offensive thing that my uncle would never, ever say.

It goes like this: Aunt Beeyatch: Your uncle told me I looked fat Me: *head tilt* Really? That doesn't sound like something he would say. *turns to uncle* You didn't really say that, did you? My mom: Say what? Me: Aunt Bee just said Uncle Chris said she looked fat, which i thought was really weird, because it doesn't sound like something he would say it all. My mom: Of course he didn't say that, *dismissive as all hell, turns to Aunt Bee* Why would you make that up? Aunt Bee: I'm just joshing you (I kid you know she says "joshing" all the time -_-) Me; *politely* Oh okay. I knew it didn't sound like something he would say!

some version of this conversation has been had MANY times over the decades

all this to say I'm worried about my uncles :( send good thoughts to them both.

[thebibliosphere]

I'm still, so, so, so fucking scared to say my MCAS is in 'remission' (or as close as you can get with an illness like this), but I just had a gluten-free cupcake with strawberry jam in the middle and a white chocolate ganache on top, and if you'd told me less than four years ago that was a thing I'd be able to eat without going into anaphylaxis and setting myself back months in terms of recovery, I would never have believed you. Hell, a few months ago, I wouldn't have been able to eat this because I wasn't on the right meds.

And today I get to have a little treat with lunch because I feel like it.

[ina-nis]

I have not written much this month or lately at all because journaling is not as helpful anymore for these issues I'm facing. Being stuck in my head is the last thing I need to address disconnection. The other piece is the fact that I likely do not fit in the criteria for personality disorders at all anymore.

That would mean... I either have reached remission from AvPD or I never had a personality disorder in the first place (and CPTSD was the culprit all along, since that disorder tends to mimic others). I think the latter is more likely and I'm thankful for "getting better" because PDs are horrible to deal with.

I'm still not sure if my overall detachment, disconnection and "dissociation" have to do with avoidance or something else though... regardless, I've been trying to keep on going, trying to push through it and, quite literally, trying to do things however possible.

Being in a place where I can say I have a self-esteem also helped me make that separation, by not seeing myself and my behaviours as something "disordered" and more like... they are responses to stimuli, trauma, socialization and so on.

I think a huge part of the "acceptance" piece I'm trying to achieve is sitting with this discomfort, with this pain, with the loneliness... and feeling it.

It fucking sucks, but I feel like it sucks less than trying to fight and suppress it.

For a long time, I've been scared of "stopping" because, in my mind, that meant "giving up."

Well, I was mistaken.

Every single thing I do outside the realm of loneliness and the pain it causes me, is resistance, is me not giving up. I guess I just didn't have in mind to see it so broadly, but it comes with being stuck overanalyzing my... everything.

A huge part of the "acceptance" piece is understanding that, even when loneliness have been my reality for as long as I've been alive (and most likely will remain a reality), I can still have goals, passions and even meaningful connections, I can still have a good life and the fact that I've been trying to give my life meaning every day also means another fear of mine will likely not ever come true: I'll not become bitter or miserable when I go through lengths to cultivate compassion and gentleness towards myself.

In the end of the day, I guess one of the many meanings "acceptance" has, in this context, is to be able to live in suffering while still trying to improve whatever else you can improve. Yes, these other things will not alleviate the pain because they will not address it, and yet, these are things that make me happy and satisfied, etc.

I guess I wasn't sure how to move forward from here, but I've been doing it already without even realizing it.

This is not the answer I wanted or the resolution I wish I had gotten but it's something I can do on my own.

The problem of addressing a social issue individually still remains. The same with healing relationship trauma and attachment wounds - there's only so much work I can do by myself.

The problem of not having positive long-lasting close connections also remains - even though I've made a lot of close friends, they all love me platonically and I just... try to not think about it and love them back however they allow me to. It's unsatisfying, frustrating and triggering for me, since it doesn't meet my needs, but it is a compromise I decided to reach to maintain my friends.

The self-esteem bit helps with all those resentment issues I used to have because now I can look at these relationships and not take it so personally anymore. Wow yeah this fucking sucks and it's not working for me but what am I supposed to do? Lash at people, cut them off again? Will that address anything? Will that help?

No. And it doesn't get me any closer from what I want either but... that's how it is. Crying or getting angry over it won't change anything so I guess it's just better to focus my energy elsewhere (this is a bit of the detachment/disconnection piece though, or so I wonder).

I can only try to live authentically and hope that will be enough to draw the right people to me, all the while I keep seeking people, getting rejected, and moving on.

I'm doing all the right things already and I know better than to lower my standards and just accept anything. I'd rather be alone, so I'm doing that.

Realizing that most people around you are not doing the work is frustrating enough - they will never be a "good fit" for me because, yes, these are the people I have outgrown. This is all I can find out there and it is really discouraging (together with all the other factors that make something difficult nearly impossible).

This is exactly why I need to be alright (as much as possible) with living with this pain.

For some, they will live with the pain of hopping from connection to connection "because it better than being alone," for some other, like me, it's better to be alone than dealing with the pain of rejection and loss, among other things.

This all is not to say that I'm closing my heart and gave up on dating or making friends... more like, being very realistic about my expectations and possibilities and trying to not let that wear me down too much.

I didn't need to stop loving others, I didn't even need to stop loving others romantically (yes, my friends and whoever else). I love more than ever, I love shamelessly because I thrive in love.

"My feelings are not a mistake" is exactly it.

Love is not the source of my pain, it's one source of happiness, of many others I have.

Similarly, loneliness and disconnection are some of issues that hurt me and don't have any easy way to be addressed, unfortunately. Considering I'm already doing everything in my power, the rest is probably a matter of time and luck.

I wonder what the future will bring and I look forward to being able to withstand this much suffering with softness and in love.

[kudos-si-do]

move along (or you might as well be dead)

they tell me: sooner or later, life is going to look like it did before. i don't think that's true. when i was ten, my dad promised me that we'd come back to a place that came to mean more to me than anywhere else in the world. he died before we had the chance. sometimes i look at the pictures, at the curves of roller coasters gleaming above lake erie, and i wonder if he knew that his cancer would kill him.

it's been a long road. the chemo they used to save me — to poison me just enough to only almost kill me — almost killed me again, more than a year after remission. neuropathy, they said. common with chemotherapy. especially common with how much you were treated with.

it doesn't matter, what they say now. i hit the ground headfirst from somewhere around eight feet up. i don't remember it. you're getting better, they say, but then they take another look at me and i'm placed back into the prison i've only ever been paroled out of for a few scant days, a few golden hours.

there's blue ice cream on my tongue. they don't sell this specific kind here. i laugh as i say it's a gel or a liquid, banned on airplanes. freedom, taken back. blue, blue, blue.

you tell me that my family isn't normal. i've been told all my life that every family is its own kind of mess, that my family wasn't any messier than anyone else's. that maybe we were lucky, getting the family we had. i believe only part of it now, but before you, i believed it completely. yes, it's true that humans are messy. we get our messes everywhere. but it isn't so normal for someone to throw away your possessions and laugh while you sob, scoff as you dig through the dumpster for pieces of your childhood you can never get back. or is it normal? am i making everything about myself again? am i being dramatic? i've been told that all my life — i'm too dramatic. i walk on three broken bones and i don't complain.

your family isn't normal either. someday i'll send hockey postcards to your father without an ounce of guilt. someday i'll look another member of your family in the eye and disagree, even though i was supposed to be agreeable, even though i promised i wouldn't do anything to make your life harder. smile, smile, smile, i told myself. be at your best. don't let your cracks show through.

my dad was supposed to teach me to drive, to threaten my significant others, to walk me down the aisle. all my friend was supposed to do was grow up. she'd be an adult now. her birthday was last month. the sixteenth anniversary of her death was a less than three weeks ago. she's dead, frozen in time as a kid with a feeding tube up her nose and a bucket hat on her head, always pink or purple. i remember thinking that she was the bravest person i'd ever known. my dad was brave, too. does bravery always beget bravery?

i'm going to die. one day, if not today. if not tomorrow. if not next week, next month, next year. i'm trapped in the same few hundred square feet as i'm always trapped in. you're late by an hour to pick me up from the airport. i think i should be annoyed about it, but i only shake my head. i wonder what adventure your adhd has taken you on. when i hug you, there's relief in the action. i'm tired. my head is spinning. i'm not quite there, not quite right, but i want to be. i'm a little bit trapped in my mind, i think. am i being dramatic? later, i'll hit my head lightly on a support column in the barn while you're trying to teach me to dance. it will bruise, just barely, but enough to betray me. i'll have bad migraines for days, and i'll be too scared to talk about it. i find the fucked up basement we joked about and i make sure you see it.

i don't touch people much. most days, i don't like to be touched. i remember that my dad's hugs felt like the safest place on earth. i wonder if there's anything left of him below the ground, eighteen years later, or if it's all just bone. i've lived much longer without him than with him. i try to project safety through my arms and hope that's enough. or at least something. anything. i can touch people i'm comfortable with, most of the time. every time i thought you looked sad, i did my best. i swung my arm around your shoulders. shook your arm. made a face. i hope it made a difference. i know it was hard, being where you were, doing what you did. i hope you knew that i was proud of you.

i'm scared, but i'm not allowed to be. i fight with my brain, frustration growing. i watch your family with suspicion, with disapproval that they might or might not have earned. i try to be friendly, project myself in a way that makes me enjoyable to the people around me. i'm not that person, not really, not always. one of my friends says i'm much different in person than i am otherwise. is that true? who am i, really? am i someone who can be seen, whose flaws can be pushed away enough to only show the light? when i looked at them, who did they see looking back?

it was odd, hearing my name with a different sound to it. everyone used the same pronouns, but not the ones i'm used to hearing. it's funny, i think. gender means nothing to me, but at home, i hear a different set of pronouns. sometimes i wonder what it would be like, but i don't dwell. it wouldn't be dangerous, i don't think, not in the way a lot of queer folk are in danger, but it would bring more harshness and hardness to my life than i think i can currently bear. i wonder if you think that i'm a coward. am i a coward?

i'm in bed again. you were supposed to be here this week. i watch the plans sift out of my hands like sand. the pressure in my chest is enormous. it hurts to breathe, sometimes. my head is tangled up. they think i'm having seizures. i'm spending more time inside the hospital than i have in a long time. it curls in my chest like fire against bare skin, but i have to bear it. you're lucky, they tell me. it can always be worse. can't it?

i was raised by a religious mother and a non-religious father. once he was gone, there was nothing left to protect me from it. i spent years entrenched in it. i remember one of my teachers bragging that they didn't take money from the government so that they weren't beholden to their requirements. they didn't have to hire the gays, she said. i remember how one of my bible instructors told me to keep my mouth shut. i had too many questions. i ruined too much. the only time i blatantly cheated, it was on a test to name the chapters of the bible. i was caught and suspended. the teacher looked at me like i was scum the rest of my time at that school. am i fake, made of plastic and metal? am i real, flesh and bone and sinew? pulling out of that hate has taken a decade, and i'm still not done.

i stand amongst the protesters, those early months of the pandemic. i wonder, even then, if it will make a difference. years later, my cousin hangs a wooden flag with a blue stripe above her door. i burn underneath my skin. i say nothing.

i found the churro ice cream in the freezer section with a "new!" label around the plastic tamper shield. i bought both of the pints that they had and put them in the freezer. i got a pint of half baked, too. i prefer phish food, myself. i look up the closest scoop store and wonder what it would take to get there. i don't touch any of the pints.

i'm not allowed to drive. my car sits, unused. i rankle as i pace the same endless walls. i trip on nothing. i sit back down, mutinous. i haven't been kind to the breaks in my pelvis and femur. they twinge from the cold, or from overuse, or from both. i remember walking around the oncology floor years ago, spurred by the sheer amount of steroids i was on to offset the effects of the difficult rounds of chemo. there was no leaving, nothing but the same floor and the same walls and the same enlarged pictures of flowers. i got paranoid enough to think that they were watching me. in some ways, i think they're still watching me.

there aren't any flowers in my room. i don't like to see them, outside of in nature, but sometimes i understand the desire to receive flowers. i've never been given them. i've never considered myself as particularly desirable. i've dated, and the relationships have ended in failure. but i loved them, once. i still love them, in a way. i'm not sure if there's a wrong way to love, so long as you're loving in good faith. i wonder if i'm lying to myself about love, if i even have the capacity to love. i wonder if i'm lying to myself about any good traits i think i might have more often than i care to admit. i'm not a good person, i think. i try, scrape and scrabble my way up mountains, but it never feels like enough.

i forgive you for not braiding my hair.

but you knew that, didn't you?

[trashydemigodmess]

"I'm done filling a cup with a hole in the bottom, I'm taking an axe to the tree. The rot at the roots is the root of the problem, But you wanna blame it on me." - the tree, maren morris

“They want me to do what?” Dex had to clarify, hear the words one more time just to be sure. He was holding his phone close to his ear, clutching it, really, as he sat on the couch, fingers ice cold.

Marla, his manager, was always confident and collected. She was kind when needed, and firm when needed. A stronghold of a ship in any storm. Yet, she was hesitant as she repeated herself, “He’s receiving the Lifetime Achievement Award at the CMA’s this year. They want you to be part of the big honorary presentation. Ideally, they’d love for you to be one of the performers that sings one of his songs.”

The CMA’s. the Grammys for Country Music. The biggest event of the year. Growing up, the month of October was often overshadowed with award show prep and press for his father for the November event. Dex had even walked the red carpet a few times himself. There was always some sort of big achievement award. Lifetime or Decade or Icon. The wording changed but it didn’t matter. The presentation was always the same. A group of just as famous artists would take turns singing the songs of whoever the award was going to, honoring them, their legacy, and their contribution to the genre. It was always touching. And easy marketing fodder. Of course they wanted him to come back, of course they knew it’d made for a great story; The wayward son returning home. It felt almost as pandering as their desperate Taylor Swift jokes each year. If they couldn’t get Taylor, maybe they could get Dex Finley to come out of retirement for his father.

His ears were ringing. Ever since he got to New Athens it felt like Dex had been planting roots, growing stronger and surer of himself everyday, shedding all the old leaves and branches and growing them back anew. But, there were still a few stragglers, branches he was scared to let go of just yet. He knew this one would come back to bite him eventually, he’d just hoped maybe it’d take a few more years.

“And it’d fit perfectly with the timing of the single dropping.” Dex said quietly, a stoic wiseness in his voice as he rubbed his temple. It’d been almost a year now, quietly working, head down, happily lost in the throws and joys of his own creativity. He’d signed with a record label, with mild murmurs and fanfare across the internet at the news. And between subtle weekend trips to LA, quiet zips into New York City, and working with Carly producing in his own makeshift studio, a full album was about eighty percent finished. The first single had been picked out and was planned to be released in November. Then based on the response, some small pop up shows come the new year, and the album in early Spring.

“Yes.” Marla continued, putting her manager voice back on, “It’d be a perfect little bow to send off the last of your old image you’re trying to shed, while also being a perfect first performance for a comeback. The two of you don’t need to fully make up, or for you to even like it, but it’d do the job.” Despite being on the phone, she lowered her voice like it was a secret, “But, you and I both know you don’t have to say yes. We can find plenty of other promo for the single rollout instead. I’d just be remiss if I didn’t at least pass the invitation along.”

Dex sunk into the couch. “Does he know about this? Or is this just some Producer-induced idea for ratings?”

“He had to okay the list of possible performers and make any adjustments before they reached out. So…yes. He’d know you’re an option.”

Thinking about his father always left a twisting, uneasy feeling in his stomach. Keith Finley was never an angry man. He was known for a lot of things: his iconic love songs, his signature white cowboy hat, his passionate love for University of Texas football, but anger wasn’t one of them. Dex had never heard his voice go above a concerned, slightly raised tone. He was the reason Dex was an insufferable hopeless romantic, why he knew how to cook, and he'd kiss every cut and scrape Dex endured before putting a bandaid on it. The first lesson he taught Dex upon becoming famous was to always say thank you, even to the smallest of helpers, and always remember their names if you could. Dex had looked up to him, and more than anything, he taught him how to be kind, respectful, and generous. Which is why his slow descent into whatever he was now felt all the more jarring.

However, he’d been unusually silent the past six months. What once was an ignorant social media post or Twitter rant every few months was now a sight nowhere to be seen. Dex guessed he’d gotten a new Publicist who finally took his accounts away from him. But either way, it still left him uneasy, unable to gauge what this meant or how it might go. At least the bigoted behavior was steady and reliable.

He realized too late that he was already chewing on his lip, leaving it chapped and raw. “Who’s said yes so far?”

“Uh,” He heard her rustling some papers. Marla rattled off a list of names that made Dex squint, skeptical. Dex’s godparents were to be expected, but everyone else? Very opposite of his right wing, conservative home base. It reeked of a desperate, PR re-branding. A narrative he was unsure about contributing to.

But, something small in the back of his heart tugged ever so slightly. The stupidest, tiniest sliver of hope. Dex held his breath, then exhaled.

“I’ll do it.”

[magnetothemagnificent]

Watching my grandpapa's health deteriorate over time until he eventually died was hard, but at least he was in his nineties, and I was content that it was his time and that he had lived a full life.

But experiencing a kid I've watched grow up deteriorate is harder. When I worked as the Children's Program Director at the synagogue, he'd hang around the children's room even though he was a preteen because the other boys his age excluded him. He was annoying sometimes, but he reminded me of my own brother, and I knew he just wanted kindness and attention. His mother was my violin teacher. His younger sister would try and help me with the kids, even though I knew she just wanted to talk to an adult and feel grown-up.

Almost exactly a year ago he was manning the grill at the community Simchat Torah barbeque. He's the same age as one of my brothers, but he really looked up to my other brother who's a few years older than him. At community dinners, he'd sit at my family's table because he wanted to sit next to my brother.

Almost exactly a year ago he was vibrant, lively, a teenager just starting his sophomore year of high school. His family had gotten over a cancer scare, when his mother had breast cancer just the other year. She's in remission now, thank G-d.

Now he's unresponsive, unconscious and in hospice, at home at least, but his health is deteriorating.

In January last year he was diagnosed with a glioblastoma cancer on his brain stem.

He should be a junior in high school. He should be thinking about Yeshiva and college, SATs and APs, and sports. He should be annoying me whenever I visit my family.

I'm a religious person. I believe in G-d most of the time, and sometimes I believe in miracles. Ever since his diagnosis, I've been lighting Shabbat candles at least five minutes early, if not ten, in his merit for a recovery. I've been saying Tehillim and thinking about him all the time.

The Shabbat before Rosh HaShana, we received devastating news. His condition was rapidly deteriorating, and everything they'd tried doing failed. His doctors wanted him to have the mercy in being in hospice at home, and I know they're right.

I never was brought closer to tears than during U'Netanah Tokef this Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur. How could I, or his family have known have drastically things would change for them just last Rosh HaShana?

I don't want to give up hope, and I won't, but I'm heartbroken. Hasn't the family already faced their trials when the mother had breast cancer? Hasn't Hashem already decreed enough for them?

He has two siblings. An older brother and a younger sister. I can't imagine the turmoil they're experiencing. My heart goes out to his younger sister. I know in times of family crisis, it's unfortunately the female family members that face the brunt of responsibility over maintaining normalicy, no matter their age. She should be thinking about going to high school and thinking she's so grown up for that.

I've experienced seeing families in my community lose their infants, either due to SIDS, premature birth, or other tragedies. And I wept with them. I cried for the potential that we couldn't even have fully known. I cried for the pain the family experienced.

It's a lot harder reckoning with a dying teenager. Someone who you've seen grow up, who had a path in life, a personality, dreams, ambitions....

He's still alive, but my brain is trying to cope with the ongoing stress of the situation by rationalizing. My rational brain tells me there's no hope, and I should accept his fate and prepare myself. I know that's what grief and crisis counsellors tell you to do.

But I'm also deeply spiritual and don't want to tempt the Ayin HaRa. If there's even a marginal, tiny, almost negligable shred of hope for him, I don't want to cast it away.

I'm caught between hoping and mourning.

And I don't know how to quantify it.

[lexa-griffins]

Hi 👩🏼‍⚕️

I say this lovingly, "You truly are evil and cruel. You belong in the pantheon of people who want to watch the world burn"

I was blindsided by that cancer diagnosis for Clarke and Lexa's daughter and I was not expecting that when I asked you to hurt them. Lexa lost Clarke and now she might lose Madi! She truly believes her entire life is falling apart

How explosive will the confrontation be when Clarke and Lexa are alone and she demands Lexa to tell her everything and why she hid Madi from her? Will Lexa finally confess everything and let down all her walls and be vulnerable with Clarke? Will this push them closer together or farther apart? I need answers!!!

Damn, is there something wrong with me if I love this unimaginable level of pain, heartache, and trauma that they both have to navigate together for Madi's sake. It might actually be cathartic for me since I've seen this happen as a nurse. Sometimes I just wish I could absorb all their pain and heal them. I wanna lay in Madi's bed and hug her and tell her that she'll be fine and there's nothing to worry about (I hate putting on a brave face when I know that's a lie 🥺)

Do you promise that all three of them will be happy together as a family when Madi goes into remission? My heart won't survive if they have to say goodbye to Madi. I'll never forgive you if Madi doesn't learn the truth about her doctor also being her mom. They deserve a happy ending 🥺

I am so very sorry for smacking you in the face with that but 😈 angst is angst 😈

Lexa's entire world shatters when she hears those words out of Clarke's mouth. Madi was fine, she has been fine so how, how did Lexa miss any signs that something could be wrong?

And Clarke. God Clarke wants to yell, she wants to cry and run away. She wants to shake Lexa, ask her how could she hide her daughter from her like this and at the same time she wants to hug her so badly and promise her everything will okay, that she will not sleep until Madi is cured and then, then they can go and be a family and she can learn about everything she missed during those 2 years and never again be away from them. And more than anything she wants to kneel on the bed, take Madi's small hand and tell her that she is her sire and that she doesnt need to worry because she'll never let anything bad happen to her, that she knows Madi will be so brave through all of this.

They wait for Madi to fall asleep eventually, a couple of hours later after Clarke had to, at great cost to her heart, excuse herself to see other patients, leaving Lexa sniffing with a nod and Madi curled up to her side. Clarke finds Lexa by a vending machine and calmly, oh so much calmer than she feels, asks her to speak to her alone. The moment the janitor's closet door closes Clarke let's the waterworks start.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why would you keep her from me? Do you really hate me this much? I'm your fucking mate, how could you?"

Soon the tears of anger turn into sobs as Clarke breaks down completely, "I didn't have any time with her and now I might not have that much left." Which Clarke understands might be a horrible to tell a mother who just found out her child has cancer but she is her child too goddammit!

They cry in each other's arms as Lexa whispers apologies that could never bring back the years Clarke lost with her little girl.

Its not easy for them. Lexa moves into a little apartment in the city, knowing this is the best hospital for Madi to stay at. Clarke insists on still being Madi's doctor even if she's her sire, there is no way she's not gonna spend as much time with her daughter as she possibly can.

Its treatable and that is all they can focus on. Still the operation is a risk so Lexa and Clarke spend as much time as they can manage with Madi and with each other. And its so easy for Lexa to fall back in love with Clarke. She isnt even sure how and why she ever stopped, why was she so scared of having a life with her, why she all but put as much distance as she could between her and Clarke the moment she learned she was pregnant. She feels so beyond guilty for not allowing Clarke and Madi happier memories together. Perhaps this is her punishment for pushing Clarke away the way she did. She had a chance to make it right when they accidentally mated and she didn't and now he universe might take Madi away from her and leave her with without her daughter and without her mate.

Try as she can Clarke is not allowed in the operation room. They haven't told Madi yet but they do not know what will happen inside the block so they tell her. The little girl's smile, however weaker, could still lighten up a room.

"I knew it! I knew you were my mom."

Clarke smiles at her, trying so hard not to choke on her tears while Lexa turns away from them both to hide her own, "How did you know?"

Madi blinks, slowly. She's getting tired much faster now and Clarke softly brushes her temple that peaks behind the beany Madi now wears as without her hair she keeps complaining of being cold. Its one of Lexa's old ones, kne she stole from Clarke all those years ago.

"Your scent. You smell-" she stops mid-sentence, rudely interrupted by a yawn "-you smell like mommy."

Right. They are mated, her and Lexa's scents have mixed to create their own, the exact same scent Madi has being so young.

"I smell like mommy?"

"Yeah... like home."

As she falls asleep, her mothers' sobs can not longer be kept inside.

Lexa and Clarke stay at the hospital during the entire operation. There is no more pretending they do not want to touch or embarrassment over leaning on each other. They cry on each other's shoulders, kiss to comfort each other, make promises they don't even know they'll be able to keep if Madi makes it out okay.

-

Lexa moves into Clarke's apartment. They don't know what they are doing but it makes it easier for both of them.

-

After two weeks, Madi's has a whole bedroom set up. It feels weird and yet so right in Clarke's eyes. Lexa's clothes in her wardrobe, her favorite coffee next to Clarke's on the counter, Madi's small pair of shoes by the entrance, a spare bedroom left bare for the past couple of years now inhabited by the light of her eyes.

Lexa and her never really talk about it - god they have always been horrible at talking - but in their own weird way, they know they are each other's forevers.

Madi is better now. Not cured, not fully yet, but she's on her way. Her hair is growing back in the most adorable brown locks and she now has enough energy to play around the apartment and go on small walks. She smiles brighter, fuller and has started calling Clarke mom.

Lexa proposed. It is not costume for the omega to get down on one knee but very little of their life together so far has been traditional. Madi will be their ringbearer and the little brother she doesn't yet know she's gonna have will be their little flower boy - even if she pouts when she learns the wedding will be postponed for about her year as Lexa refuses to walk down the aisle pregnant, which in Clarke's opinion is the most beautiful she's ever seen her, as she promises its not just her alpha talking for not having been present in her past gestation.

They were horrible together at first. Toxic and unstable and yet even after breaking up they could not get away from one another. A dumb medical trial got them so riled up for each other they knotted and mated for the very first time. And then when they could finally leave each other, they didn't. And when they finally did, Lexa was left with a permanent reminder of Clarke in the form of their pup while her made moved away from her. Only for the universe to bring them back together in the most painful of ways.

Lexa will never, ever forgive whoever is out there for making her little girl suffer the way she did. But for what is worth, at least it bought her and Clarke back together and finally made them see they are what each other needs; them, their sweet daughter, and their little boy and whoever more comes next :)