#and couldn't afford my meds

[c4rr10n]

im this  fucking close to snapping ngl 

[nihilismtrcit]

did nora clean or unpack anything today? no. did she write? also no. she did have beer for breakfast, though

[anarcho-skamunist]

ughhhhhh I need my ADHD medicated again I've been doing well all things considered but the difference in how easy things are is night and day

[sadcowboysclub]

215 euro just so i can see things what a painnnn

[queerlycarter]

new knee pain >:( evil and fucked up. as if i dont have enough chronic pain, i need new and different pain >:(

good thing im seeing my ortho tomorrow. girl help.

[korgk49]

can things in my life get any worse lol

[newobsessionweekly]

Puppy

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x fem!reader Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: While you visit Tim at the station, you are too nice to a teenager he just arrested. To your boyfriend's exasperation, you pay the bail for the kid and cook him a warm dinner.

Warnings: don't think so, pure fluff, not proofread yet

Fluff Requested: Yes Words: still counting

GIF not mine, credits to the owner.

"So," Lucy began tentatively, stealing a glance at the sergeant. "I saw you the other day. Looking at those rings."

"Chen." Tim warned his aide.

"Are you proposing to Y/N?" she pressed, her excitement bubbling over.

"That's not your business."

But Lucy wasn't about to let it go. "Look," she said eagerly, "If you need help picking the ring, I can help. I can – I don't know, have a little talk, find out what kind of ring she wants."

"I've got this, thanks," his voice was tinged with a hint of annoyance.

"We both know you don't." Lucy leaned back, "An engagement ring is not just any jewelry she can hide in a closet if she doesn't like it."

"I think I know what she wants."

"Remember her birthday present?" she reminded him, earning an accusing glance from Tim. "Just saying. Please, at least consider it, for Y/N."

Lucy opened her mouth to say more, but Tim's eyes caught something up ahead. His expression shifted to one of relief, a welcome distraction from Lucy's insistence.

"Hold that thought."

She followed his gaze and saw a young boy attempting to break into a parked car. The kid couldn't have been more than fifteen, his hands fumbling nervously with the lock. Tim pulled the shop to a stop and got out, Lucy following closely behind.

"Dispatch, this is Sergeant Bradford. We've got a possible 459 in progress at the corner of 4th and Main."

"Hey! Step away from the car!" Tim called out, his voice authoritative.

The boy froze, his eyes wide with fear. He turned to run, but Lucy was already moving, cutting off his escape route. "It's okay," she said gently, her demeanor softening. "We're not here to hurt you."

Tim approached, his expression softening just a bit."What do you think you're doing?"

The boy stammered, "I—I wasn't going to steal it, I swear. I just... I need some money. My mom's sick, and we can't afford the meds."

The boy looked down at his feet and Lucy sighed, recognising the familiar signs of desperation. "Look, we can help you. But breaking into cars isn't the way to go."

"You need to come with us and tell us everything. We'll figure something out."

The shop was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the sound of Lucy's fingers tapping on her phone. Tim glanced over at her, his focus shifting between the road and his aide's ever-present curiosity.

"TouristPlanet says that Hawaii is number one for proposals," Lucy broke the silence, her eyes never leaving the phone.

"Chen, I don't need help. I've done it before, I know how it works," Tim replied, exasperated but with a hint of amusement.

Lucy ignored his brush-off. "Oh, but I love Y/N! I just want everything to be perfect for her. I mean, it's huge."

Tim sighed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "And you don't think I love her enough to make this special?"

"I didn't say that," Lucy replied quickly. "You've done it before, it's not a big deal for you. But it's her first proposal and she loves you."

"It is a big deal," Tim admitted, his voice softer now. "I think I love her even more than I loved Isabel back then. So it's more complicated now."

Lucy’s eyes widened in surprise, a soft smile spreading across her face. "You have a heart after all."

"Chen. Shut up." he shot her a warning sideways glance, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, sir."

As you step into the bustling station, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sugary donuts fills the air, mingling with the sound of urgent radio chatter and shuffling footsteps. You clutch the cardboard tray tighter, a smile playing on your lips as you navigate through the familiar chaos, scanning the faces for Tim's unmistakable handsomeness.

Not finding him among the desks, you make your way to Grey's office, offering a cheery wave before stepping inside.

"Morning, Sarge."

Grey glances up from his paperwork, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Y/N. Always a pleasure to have you around," he responds welcoming.

With a graceful motion, you offer him a cup of steaming coffee and gesture towards the assortment of donuts nestled in the box. The sergeant chuckles softly, accepting the offering with a nod of appreciation.

"Please do come more often," he jests, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I'll keep that in mind," you reply playfully but your attention is elsewhere, your gaze still searching the room for that familiar figure. "You know where I can find Tim?"

With a knowing nod, Grey gestures for you to follow him as he leads the way towards the processing room. As you step inside, the atmosphere shifts from bustling activity to a more subdued intensity.

"Bradford. You have a visitor," Grey announces, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Tim looks up from his paperwork, his gaze meeting yours, and a soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips. His gaze lifts, his expression softening at the sight of you standing there, a welcome interruption to the monotony of his day.

"Hey," he greets you, a flicker of surprise in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

You set the tray of treats down on a nearby table and close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. "Hey handsome," you reply, your voice muffled against his chest. "You left early and I thought you could use some coffee."

Tim’s strong arms pulled you closer, the familiar scent of his cologne mingles with the coffee and donuts, grounding you in the moment. You feel his strong, warm body melting in your arms and the steady beat of his heart, a gentle reminders of how much you love him.

Pulling back slightly, you look up into his eyes, which are now filled with a gentle warmth that belies his grumpiness.Tim’s hand finds yours, giving it a gentle squeeze before he releases you.

"You’re a lifesaver."

Lucy wander into the room, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the treats. "Y/N, you spoil us," she teases, reaching for a donut.

Your eyes drift across the room, settling on a teenage boy obediently following an officer's commands, his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. Concern wells up inside you.

"Tim," you ask softly, nodding towards the boy, "what's with the kid? What's he doing here?"

He glances over at the kid, his expression hardening. "Kid tried to break into a car. Said he needed the money to pay for his mom's meds."

Your heart aches at the sight of the innocent boy, his face etched with fear and worry. "What's going to happen to him?" you ask, your voice soft with concern.

Tim sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "He'll probably get away with bail. First offense, and the circumstances are... mitigating."

Moved by the boy’s plight, you make a decision. “Tim, can I have your card?” you ask, reaching out your hand.

Your boyfriend eyes you warily, his brow furrowing. "Why?"

"Just trust me."

He frowns but doesn't question your request further. He fishes a card from his pocket and hands it to you. As you reach for the box of donuts, his frown deepens.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" he asks, his voice rising with annoyance.

You stop to meet his gaze, "Trust me, please."

Tim watches you walk over to the boy and kneel down, his jaw tightening. "This is ridiculous," he mutters under his breath, his grumpiness evident as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Can I have a minute with him?" you ask Lucy, who is in the midst of processing the boy.

Lucy looks over at Tim, seeking his approval. His eyes narrow, but he gives a curt nod, though his frustration is palpable. Lucy steps aside, joining your boyfriend as they watch you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Hi, there." you say softly, your voice kind and shooting, "I'm Y/N. What's your name?"

"Charlie."

"Well, Charlie, Sergeant Bradford told me you're in some kind of trouble." you say gently, your heart breaking at his situation.

The boy looks up at you, tears welling in his eyes. "I didn't mean to do anything wrong. I– I just want to help mom."

"I know, sweetheart. You hungry?" you ask, offering him a comforting smile.

Charlie nods, and you hand him the box full of donuts. His eyes widen in surprise and gratitude as he takes it.

You write your name and number on Tim's card and hand it to him. "It's gonna be okay for now. But if you have any other problems, please give us a call. If you don't want to talk to Bradford, you can call me, okay?"

"Thanks. I– I will," Charlie says, clutching the card like a lifeline.

"Where's your mom?" you ask, wanting to understand more about his situation.

"In hospital. She– uh, she has cancer and treatment is expensive."

"You stay with her at the hospital?" you ask gently, your mind already made up to help him.

Charlie nods, tears brimming in his eyes. Determined to do more, you know you'll pay his bail and offer any support you can.

Tim strides over, his expression a mix of annoyance and concern. His grumpiness, which had momentarily melted away, returns in full force. "Alright, that's enough," he says, his voice firm and edged with frustration. "We need to get things moving."

You stand up, giving Charlie one last reassuring smile. "Remember, call me if you need anything," you say before turning to Tim.

He looks at you, his irritation clear. "Y/N, you can't save everyone," he mutters, shaking his head. "This isn't your job."

You meet his gaze, "I know. But I can try to help one," you reply softly.

"You really shouldn't get involved like that," he says, his voice softer now, filled with concern.

"I know."

He sighs, reaching to take your hand into his. "But I love that about you. Just...promise me you'll be careful. For my sake."

You squeeze his hand, smiling warmly. "I promise."

The end of the shift greets Tim and Lucy walking towards their cars, the sky darkening with the onset of evening. The station is quieter now, the earlier hustle and bustle giving way to the calm of a winding-down day. He's itching to get home, to feel the warmth and comfort of your presence, to escape the relentless grind of the day.

"Hey, Tim," Lucy starts, glancing at him curiously. "Did you pay the bail for that Charlie boy we arrested this morning?"

Tim raises an eyebrow, surprised. "No, why?"

"Because someone did," Lucy explains, frowning. "I checked, and he doesn’t have any other family besides his mom. I can't figure out who would have done it."

His eyes narrow, and then it hits him. "I think I know who."

The drive home is a blur as he processes the day's events. When he finally steps through the front door, he’s greeted by the comforting aroma of dinner cooking and the sound of upbeat song playing in the background.

"Sweetheart, I'm home," he calls out, his voice echoing through the house.

You turn around, a bright smile on your face. "Hey, babe. Come, come. Dinner's almost ready."

Tim steps into the kitchen, and his eyes widen in pure shock as he spots Charlie sitting at the island, a plate of snacks in front of him.

"Y/N, a word," Tim says, his voice tight.

"Make yourself at home, Charlie. We'll be right back."

You give the kid a big smile while Tim forces a very strained one, then you follow him to the bedroom. He closes the door behind you with more force than necessary, his frustration evident.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Tim demands, his voice rising in anger.

"I know, I'm sorry. I should've talked to you. But I couldn't let him stay in jail. He's been sleeping in a hospital chair, Babe. God knows when it was the last time he had a proper, warm meal. There's no one to look after him."

Tim runs a hand through his hair, his anger barely contained. "I can't believe you did that. You’ve got ourselves a puppy," he mutters, his tone sharp.

"What?" you ask, confused.

"Nothing."

You place a gentle hand on his arm, your eyes pleading. "Tim, listen to me. This kid needs help. He's scared and alone. I couldn't just walk away."

You step even closer, wrapping your arms around his waist, feeling the tension in his muscles.

"You can't just bring home a stray. This is serious, Y/N. We're not a shelter."

"Charlie is not a stray, he needs help. His mom is in the hospital with cancer, and he's been trying to fend for himself," you explain, "We have the means to help him, at least for one night."

"This isn't just about money or means, Y/N. It's about safety and boundaries. We can't take in every kid with a sob story."

"I get that, but this isn't just any kid. You saw him today, baby. He's not a criminal; he's just a boy trying to help his mom," you argue, stepping closer to him. "We can't turn our backs on him."

Tim's frustration is simmering beneath the surface. "Damn it, Y/N. This is exactly why I worry about you. You have a big heart, and I don't want to see you get hurt."

You rested your head on his chest. "I know. But I can't just turn my back when someone needs help. I get involved because I care," you say softly, meeting his eyes, "And you care too, whether you want to admit it or not."

"I can't say no to you, can I?" he mutters, his voice a mix of exasperation and affection.

You smile up at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Tim looks at you, his grumpiness warring with his love for you. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," he sighs again, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you even closer, "Just one night," he says, "And then we figure out what to do next."

You nod, relief flooding through you. "I promise. Just one night."

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, his grumpiness is melting away, "You're impossible, you know that?" a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"I know," you reply, smiling back at him. "But you love me anyway."

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, I do," he admits, his voice tender. "Now let's go see how our guest is doing."

[meowmeowriley]

@forestshadow-wolf Had asked about Duo Fatui, and you know what? Fuck it! Have what will eventually be the opening to the fic ❤

Ghost and Soap are placed on desk duty for a year after an op gone sideways. They decide to make the best of it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Captain price roared as he stormed into the med bay.

Soap and Ghost were both laid up in separate cots, on either side of the room. Both now stared at him, wide eyed after his outburst.

"Sir," Ghost started but Price was not going to hear him out.

"No! Soap, what the hell were you thinking?!"

"Sir," Soap attempted to speak but Price cut him off as well.

"What the fuck were you thinking, giving a civilian your plate carrier?" Price seethed.

"Sir, he had important intel, we couldn't afford to lose him, and our route to exfil was taking heavy fire." Soap spit out his words quickly, probably to avoid being cut off again.

"Exactly sergeant, heavy fire that you took! You were shot, and you're a hell of a lot more important than some random scientist!" Price could feel his face getting red as he yelled. "And you!" He turned to face Ghost. "Now you're out of commission, because of his bloody fuck up!" He gestured sharply at a pouting Soap.

"We're the same blood type, I wasn't about to lose him over something I could easily help with, Captain." Ghost said flatly. To anyone else it would seem like Ghost was calm, detached even. Price could tell he was holding back his own anger.

Price found himself pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He wasn't actually angry at them. Soap had saved a man with insanely useful information. Ghost had saved Soap. He was angry that he hadn't been there to protect them himself. He was angry that he almost lost two of the best soldiers there ever were. Two of his men. He was angry that now they were both one kidney lighter. The transplant wouldn't take too long to heal, but the risk of rejection or infection meant he could still lose them. "One year." That garnered confused looks from both men.

"Um, no boss, the surgeon said-" Price cut Ghot off again, further souring the man's mood for sure.

"That the risk of rejection and infection will be significantly reduced after six months. I am placing you both on desk duty for one year, starting the day you get discharged from med bay." A horrified silence filled the room. "I hope you boys can find a way to keep yourselves entertained while Gaz, Roach and I pick up your slack." It may have ben a bit harsh, but he needed them to understand how important their lives were. To the world, to the team. To him. With that, he left the room.

***

"Ah'm sorry, Ghost."

"Shut it, Johnny."

"Ah am though."

"No." Ghost opened his eyes and leaned forward, looking at his hands. After Price had stormed in, ripped them a new one, and stormed out, he had leaned back in his bed and closed his eyes in an attempt to dissuade the rising rage. "If we're sorry, Price wins. That crabbit old man can kiss my arse. We did the right things."

"Hmmm... I have an idea." Ghost finally looked over to Soap again, urging him to continue with his eyes. "We're gonna be stuck on base for a whole year, aye?"

"Aye..." Ghost was unsure where this was going.

"We should do something unhinged, something incredibly stupid and pointless, every day. We'll have some random recruit record it, someone different every day if we can. At the end of the year, we'll play it on a projector in the mess for the whole base to watch." Soap was grinning at him. "Show Price what happens when you bench two of the craziest son's o' bitches in the SAS.'

It felt like a bad idea. Like making a deal with the devil. Like it would at least make the year of bullshit ahead of them go by faster. "I'm listening..."

[lilacliquors]

“that feels so good.” for Poe Dameron

all the time in the galaxy

pairing: poe dameron x nurse!reader

prompt: ❝ that feels so good. ❞

word count: 933

content: 18+ minors dni, oral (f!receiving), secret romance, this has some plot and poe dameron has a praise kink

notes: ahhhh my boy my boy my boy i love poe sm and this wraps up our star wars section for the fic event. and this has been in my drafts for ages holy SHIT i wanted to get it done but i was distracted as fuck

he needed you. he needed you bad.

just seeing you from across the tarmac wasn't enough. he wanted to hold you, cradle you, kiss you. he knew that as the best pilot in the resistance, he couldn't afford any distractions, but you were just so ... you.

everything about you drove him wild. your smile, the way your eyes sparkled in the sun, your hard work and determination. and when he finally got the chance to be alone with you, it was worth every second he had to wait.

since your alone time was always brief, he had to make it count. he needed to make sure that you remembered how much he loves you, how much he misses you, and how when all of this is over and you've claimed victory, he can be with you publicly. which was all he wanted. he wanted to show the galaxy who had his heart.

but for now, he would settle for making you come undone in the dead of night.

that night, after most of the other med staff had gone off to their quarters, poe had snuck into your office and locked the door behind him, catching you by surprise.

"poe!" you said, your face lighting up as you smiled.

"hey, you," he murmured, hugging you gently. "missed you all day."

"i missed you, too," you said, pulling back to kiss his cheek.

"no, i mean i really, really, really ... " he grinned as you laughed and kissed the corner of his mouth. "i could have kept going."

"oh, i know. come on, we can make it back to my quarters if we're fast enough," you said, but his grip on your hips only tightened.

"oh no, i don't think i can wait that long. when i said i really, really really missed you, that was my way of saying i can't wait any longer. not even a five minute walk."

he began to kiss down your neck, pulling you flush against his body. you tilted your head back with a soft sigh, and your hand went to his hair, running your fingers through it.

"i missed your smile." a kiss. "your eyes." another kiss. "the way your nose scrunches when you laugh." kiss.

his hands roamed across your body, but his touches were gentle, loving. they weren't frantic, like usual. but it was like you could finally take your time together. your office was private, and suddenly, you had all the time in the galaxy.

you watched as he slowly lowered himself to his knees before you, and his fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants.

"poe ... " you whispered, leaning back against your desk.

"shh, let me just ... " he shimmied your pants down your legs, and when they got to your feet, he helped you pull them off over your shoes. he did the same with your underwear, leaving you exposed to him.

"missed these legs," he murmured, running his hands along the softness of your skin. "and these thighs." he gave them a squeeze, and he grinned when his hands didn't go all the way around. "lots to love."

you blushed, and your face felt even hotter as he lifted one of your legs up onto his shoulder, and he inched forward ever so slightly ...

he wasted no time in flattening his tongue against your dripping cunt. the gasp that left your lips was like music to his ears, and his hand squeezed your thigh again.

you gripped the edge of your desk as you felt his tongue dip between your folds, teasing your clit and your walls, exploring every inch of you as if he didn't already have it mapped out. as he tasted you, your hand went to his hair, gripping it gently. you rolled your hips against his face, and he groaned quietly, the hand holding your leg squeezing you again.

"oh, just like that," you whispered, your head tilting back in ecstasy. ❝ that feels so good. ❞

his grip on you tightened, and his nose bumped against your clit as he feasted on you.

"tell me," he whispered, pulling back to kiss at your inner thighs. "tell me how good it feels. tell me."

his head dipped back between your thighs, and you bit your lip gently.

"shit ... it feels so damn good, poe. no one could ever — oh, shit — make me feel the way you do," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair.

he whimpered between your thighs, and it was like your praise spurred him on. his grip tightened, and you could feel your muscles tense.

"you treat me so well ... and i can't wait to let the galaxy know who has my heart," you gasped, your grip on the desk tightening. "fuck, your tongue feels so good ... just like that, right there, right there, oh ... oh — !"

you gripped his hair and his groans filled the air as you came undone. he held onto you, keeping you steady as he lapped at your folds, drinking in your release. it took you a few moments to come back down to reality, and he eased your leg from his shoulder, pressing soft kisses to your skin.

"i told you i missed you," he teased with a grin.

"you definitely did. now, do we have time for me to show you just how much i missed you?"

poe glanced over his shoulder, and he listened for any remaining footsteps that might have been around the med bay. with silence around you, he looked back up at you with a grin.

"baby, we have all the time in the galaxy."

[smokeweedeattherich]

I figured it's time I talk about my surgical transition experience. There's plenty of false narratives out there and I want to counter what I can with truth and personal experience.

The first procedure I received this year in late January was a transvaginal ovarian-hysterectomy. That means they cut out my uterus and ovaries (and the connecting fallopian tubes) without making any abdominal incisions (removed through the vagina). I'd had a consultation with the surgeon performing the operation a few months prior where we discussed any concerns and went over potential side effects as well as specifying I wanted my ovaries removed as well. When the day of the procedure came I went to the hospital, the nurses were really kind and I got to see the surgeon again one last time for any last minute concerns before I went into the surgical suite.

Waking up post surgery I was elated to learn the surgery had gone super smoothly, the surgeon said I'd lost less than a teaspoon of blood. I stayed in hospital for the remainder of the day and ended up going home around 9pm. They'd given me a pain meds prescription, and that kept things during recovery at a quiet 2-3 on the pain scale. Most of what I felt was a general soreness in the area, it was a lot like the sensation of period cramps. It took only 3 weeks before I felt pretty much 100% I still wasn't fully healed but by then there wasn't any pain, even slight.

Now I'm just nearing the end of my 2 month full recovery time and I'm clear to have penetrative sex. The worst part of the recovery I'd say was the basically instant menopause I had to go through for a while. The hot flashes were the worst, get a fan for yourself if you're planning on getting this procedure.

The end of February is when I got my second procedure, a double masectomy aka top surgery. Normally transition surgeries wouldn't be so close together in timeline but I had school starting in May but I couldn't emotionally afford to wait until the semester is over to get the surgery done. Additionally, political circumstances also lead to me making the decision to push up the date of my surgery, I was terrified that if I was to wait another year that it might be illegal by then.

Similar to the first operation, I'd had a consultation appointment several months prior that addressed any questions and concerns to help me decide if the procedure was right for me. I was way less nervous this time around because I'd already been through one surgery and had a better idea of what to expect in terms of pain and recovery.

The experience of check-in and preparation for the second surgery was pretty much the same as the first with one exception, I decided to forego the nipple grafts last minute (and I don't regret the decision. less risk of complication/infection, I wouldn't likely retain sensation, getting nipple tattoos instead gives me direct control over size and shape) so I had to meet with the surgeon beforehand the day of. My direct input was accommodated and my questions answered the day of, it was awesome.

I went under anesthesia feeling a sense of peace that I'd wake up feeling more like myself than I had since before puberty. I'm a month recovered now and I'm just so pleased with the results! The pain was so worth it!

Feel free to ask respectful questions about my experiences.

[v3nusxsky]

Can you do a, Wandanat X Agere fem reader?

Maybe reader djdnt want to regress, due to the amount of missions they were getting, and she accidently messes up in a mission and Fury yells at her for it, and she regressed in her room later that night, and Wanda and Natasha find her? And reader has thus toy dog she loses snd they have to find it to calm her down?? Fluff after that.

Agere, fluff, hurt, and comfort. I believe that's what you requested.

If not, no problem, I love all your writing!!!

Sorry if it's really specific, I'm nervous when it comes to requesting

Sun,moon and stars

*Authors note~ long time no see guys! I've missed posting. Been a little scared to start back up bc of the hate and my accident really threw me for a while but here we go. Thanks to the support of my friends and my lovely girlfriend @just-your-casual-nerd I’m going to be starting with Agere for the pure reason it's less taxing on my body and brain. Smut angst etc will come when I'm a little better*

Trigger warnings~ regression little r mama and momma wandanat loss of comfort item angry fury? Sight angry Nat?

Prompt~see ask^^^^^

The past few weeks had really been insane for you, you were either on missions or filling out the paperwork from your previous missions. You'd hardly seen your girlfriends due to this, which meant the idea of allowing yourself to regress was definitely out the window. You couldn't afford to mess up the missions, exposing your secret to the team. A lot of the time it was truly hard to admit you coped this way, but Wanda and Nat seemed to love helping you through it. Not everyone is accepting of it though, you learnt that very early on in your life. Perhaps that's why you felt the need to hide.

After a recent mission with Steve, Tony and Peter you were all on the way back to the compound when Steve told you. Fury wanted to see you immediately upon landing. You instantly knew why, your gaze flickering over to Peter who was cradling his arm. It was an accident really, you didn't mean to. Your brain blanking at the wrong time allowing one of the Hydra guards to twist Peters arm painfully. His cries of pain clearing the fog that littered your brain when you needed to slip. You'd apologised time and time again to Peter and he reassured you he wasn't mad. But no matter how much he said it you knew you'd messed up. The reason he would be taken to med bay was because you weren't strong enough to stay big. Guilt eating away at you, you weren't sure how much worse Fury could make you feel.

Apparently it could get worse, the guilt eating away at you as Fury laid into you about how reckless you were, your behaviour resulting in Peters injuries meant you were suspended from the field. His exact wording was something like "till we can figure out how to fix you!" You did your best to stay silent and remain strong, crying was not something you wished to do in front of him. You don't need fixing just a break really but you knew better than to respond like that, instead opting to flee his office and head to the safety of your shared room before breaking down.

You'd missed dinner, that was why Wanda and Natasha began searching for you. They knew the mission didn't go as well as wanted so they figured you'd want space to process like normal, but you never missed dinner. You love wanda's cooking too much for that. After checking your usual spots, they headed to your room. There you were curled up with dried tear strains on your cheeks, the room around you trashed to high hell. Clearly, you were looking for something but what would you be looking for badly enough to do this? "Nat, she's" Wanda trailed off as your thoughts were loud, "Little." Now everything made so much sense. You were looking for Pup Pup.

You must have regressed alone and being unable to find your beloved pup pup, you'd cried yourself to sleep. It was truly heartbreaking to see, as your caregivers, you hadn't found one of them and were alone in such a vulnerable mind set. Your whimpers as tears began to fall again worried Wanda enough to check on your dream. Only where she would witness you reliving how Fury shouted at you, saying you needed to be fixed. Your whole body shook with the second hand fear from the dream. Both girls knew you didn't like being shouted at or anything that was loud.

"Nat, Fury, he ripped into her about Peter" Wanda whispered before going to kneel next to your body. Her hand finding your cheeks as she brushed your tears away mumbling words of comfort, "it's okay dekta (baby) momma is here." The red head assassin gave Wanda a quick nod before exiting to find Fury. She wasn't having you being treated like this when they'd been overworking you and in general ignoring your own well-being. This wouldn't ever happen again because Natasha would make sure of it.

"Momma?" You sleepily sobbed before throwing yourself into her awaiting arms, "founds me!" You cried causing her heart to shatter slightly. "That's right my darling. I have you now. Why are we sad love bug?" It was adorable how your brows joined and you scrunched your nose up in thought, "Pup Pup gones!" You gasped as if you'd only just realised that Pup Pup was missing now. You appeared to be regressed a lot smaller than you normally would. The girls were use to you regressing to about five years old, but based of this interaction Wanda guessed you were about two to three years old. "We will find your Pup Pup bug."

"Mama!" You pouted noticing her absence. "Shh love bug mana is just finishing up with work and she'll be here, how bout you and momma go on a hunt for Pup Pup?" Wandas soothing tone and her redirection to your beloved Pup Pup. Hand in hand you and Wanda set out to find the ragged looking stuffie that you'd had since you were found by Hydra. The only thing they'd let you keep at a price and you cherished it. It didn't take long for your little brain to become overwhelmed and frustrated at your inability to find the stuffie.

"Momma! No finds! Gones! Want mama! I sorry I be good give Pup Pup me now?" You sobbed clumsily clinging to her as you cried for you two lost loves. "You are good my love bug, so so good. We are gonna find your Pup Pup I promise." She hushed you as the bedroom door opened and a very satisfied Natasha came into the room. "моя маленькая принцесса (my little princess) look who mama found малыш (baby)" her sing song voice caught your attention as you knew it was only for you. "Pup Pup!!" You cried happily coming to hold the stuffie, "frank you mama!"

"You're so welcome дорогой (darling), shall we all go get a snack baby?" You nodded enthusiastically until you remembered Fury's words, "Nahuh mama" you mumbled sadly, "I'm bad, no eat when bad." This time both women came to your side and showered you with reassurance and love that you were not bad. And Peter wasn't mad at you. Fury was in the wrong to go off at you like that and you were safe with them. They wouldn't let any harm come yo you. In fact you could eat in the bedroom cuddled up together. They just wanted to care for you, so you eventually relented, your little brain not holding much room to fight so you happily settled into bed snuggling up to Natasha's chest while you waited for Wanda to return with food. Before Wanda could even return you'd passed out on Nat, Natasha looking at you with such a loving gaze Wanda felt truly too blessed to be witnessing it. Truly you deserved the sun, moon and the stars, and both women wanted to give you all that and more.

Word count~ 1354

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Yayy here we go

Can you please write a goldenheart one-shot where Ballister breaks something which belongs to Ambrosius (the way he broke it damaged Bal's health too, like a cut or something) and is afraid that Ambrosius will get mad at him only to be surprised that all Ambrosius cares about is his safety?? It doesn't have to be angsty in particular, I'm all for it if you do make it angsty lol

Ayo!!!

Alright we're trying to work on drabbles again. Here you go, I hope you like it! (Movieverse)

-

Ballister leaned back against the headboard of the dorm bed, playing video games while his boyfriend studied for the upcoming Institute exam. Ballister, by this point, felt confident. He had been studying. Ambrosius, on the other hand, had not. So, he was taking the evening to relax and play video games on Ambrosius’s computer. It was way nicer than anything he could afford, he just used the one the Institute issued him for classwork.

Ambrosius yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I'm gonna take a coffee break. Want anything?”

Ballister hummed. “I'll just take hot chocolate, the exam is tomorrow, I'll need to get to sleep early.” He failed to hide the smirk at the look his boyfriend gave him, knowing he would be up all night making up for his prior laziness.

Ambrosius left the room, and Ballister reached for his water bottle off the bedside table. While drinking, he accidentally aspirated some of the water and choked, reacting too late to dropping the water bottle onto the laptop. The heavy bottle split the keyboard and water spilled into the mechanism, causing it to smoke and short-circuit.

In his frantic attempt to fix it, Ballister winced as the broken metal sliced his fingertips and lightly burned his hand. “No no no no, shit!”

Ambrosius ran into the room and Ballister wanted to sink into the floor with shame. He could feel tears welling into his eyes. Since he was small, he knew the value of things. Breaking toys at the orphanage was punished harshly, as there was hardly any money to go around to buy new ones. When he was even littler, his mom was never cruel to him, but her frustration when he ruined or broke things in the apartment where they already had so little was apparent. He saw what happened to people on the streets when they stole food. Loaves of bread were worth more than starving people, and an expensive laptop was worth far more than Ballister.

“Ambrosius, I broke it, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, I choked on my water and dropped it, I– I'm so sorry–!” He broke down and his vision blurred. “I'll replace it somehow, I promise!”

He felt the laptop removed from his lap and soft hands examine his own. “Never mind that!” Ambrosius said, his voice urgent but soft. “Look at your poor hand, are you okay?”

Ballister sniffled. “What?”

“Bal, you’re all cut up! And the sparks got your fingers. Gloreth knows what those tech companies put in here, you got your tetanus shots, right?”

Ballister nodded softly. “I'm so, so, so sorry. I'll replace it. Or– or I'll fix it! I'll build you a new one!”

Ambrosius waved him off, as if it was nothing. “Don't even worry about that right now! Do you think they need stitches? Maybe I should take you to the med hall.”

“No, no, they're fine, I'll rinse them off and put on some bandages. Ambrosius, won't you listen to me? Didn't you see I broke your laptop?” He hiccupped. Ambrosius met his eyes, his own filled with worry. “Bal, honey, I don't care about that. It was an accident. Besides, this was just my gaming laptop, all my Institute documents are backed up, no harm was done except you being hurt.”

“No harm– your laptop is broken! That thing is worth thousands of dollars!”

“I hate to flex my wealth, Bal, but to my family, that laptop isn't expensive. And even if it was, I don't need it. What I need is for my boyfriend who I love more than anything in the world to be safe and happy.” He kissed Ballister on the nose.

Ballister was too stunned to respond, really. He couldn't imagine the privilege of just disregarding an object so expensive, but he got the impression that Ambrosius wouldn't care about the value either way. How could a few cut up fingers, on him, be worth more? He wasn't the Queen, he wasn't worth fussing over.

Ambrosius, as though he read his mind, nuzzled against his temple and stroked his hair. “You're something money could never buy. I liked my laptop, but I love you.”

Ballister eventually ended up making him a new laptop anyway, despite his insistence it wasn't necessary, but every time he looked at the little scars on his middle and ring fingers, he remembered the first day he'd ever felt truly valued.

[trans-cuchulainn]

money doesn't buy happiness or mental stability but it is true that anxiety about concrete things is a lot easier to solve if you have money because the worst-case scenario is just... not as bad

take travelling: one time i was travelling and it turned out my accommodation booking had got lost so i arrived at the hotel to find it was booked out. an event in town meant there was no affordable accommodation nearby. if i had been alone, i don't know what i would have done, because i definitely couldn't afford to stump up the money that would be needed to find last-minute accommodation in that city. but the person i was with had a company credit card, and found me a hotel room. the larger your budget, the smaller the chances there will be nowhere you can stay

another time my flight was delayed, causing me to miss the last bus from the airport. i didn't have enough money to pay for a taxi the whole way to my destination, and my phone wasn't working well enough to let me call my accommodation and let them know i would be arriving after the normal check-in time, either. in the end my family had to transfer me extra money so i could pay for the taxi, and call the accommodation from their phone to pass on the message. if they hadn't been able to do that, i'd have been stuck in shannon airport forever (or at least until someone took pity on me) -- not great

a missed bus or a lost accommodation booking or a delayed flight or a suitcase going astray is a lot easier to deal with if the worst-case scenario is "I have to pay a bunch of money about this" vs "i am stranded with no way of getting to my destination/sleeping alone on the floor of the train station in an unfamiliar city/wearing the same clothes for a week straight with no access to my meds"

now sometimes there is no amount of money that will get you from one location to another because there simply isn't any transport and there is no amount of money that can buy things which aren't available to buy, which is why rural travel requires substantially more planning. however. it can still usually make it less miserable being stuck wherever you ended up / increase your options in general

(also, wow travel emergencies have got so much easier to deal with since roaming data, google maps, + mobile banking became a thing... so much less likely to find yourself lost and penniless, unless travelling somewhere super remote, in which case you've got bigger problems anyway)

[hadeslegacyhephgirl]

Thief!Nico and Premed!Will

Decided 2 change doctor 2 uni student at the last minute, it fits better

This is literally shit help me comment prompts pls

~*~

Nico was a thief. 

And a good one too, from the years of pratice. 

Untill one day he was caught, sort of, and his world turned upside down and sideways. 

His target for the night was a two-story country house. He waited in the bushes until all the lights were off, waited another hour, then snuck into an open window into a kitchen.   He crouch-crept around the counter, silent as a ghost, then froze as he rounded it. 

There was a boy there, about his age, leaning over the sink, peering out of the window, blonde curls flipping slightly in the breeze. 

Nico waited, breathing quietly. 

The boy straited, turned around and stared directly at Nico. 

Celeste blue eyes found black ones and Nico nearly stopped breathing, expecting all hell to break loose. 

But somehow, it didn't. 

The boy grunted and beckoned. 

"You want a coffee?" 

Nico crinkled his nose. 

What in the actual fuck. 

The boy sighed and ran a hand down his face. 

"Well, don't just sit there, c'mon up. I ain't gonna kill you, Sunshine."  Nico bristled and stood up slowly  "I'm not that easy to kill, weirdo." 

The boy smiled, pearly white teeth flashing in the dark kitchen.  "He speaks! Thank gods. I thought you were gonna run away or stab me or something. You wan' a coffee?"  Nico crinkled his nose. 

"I literally just broke into your house and now your offering me coffee? The fuck is wrong with you?" 

"Eh, I don't think I could stop you from robbing us blind, but at least you could steal something other that’s worth it. Like coffee... and food. You look like you haven't eaten in weeks, which, dude, not healthy."  "Oh really. You a doctor or something?"  "Gonna be. Pre-med in University of Olympus. You ever go to college?"  "No. Couldn't afford it- why the hell am I telling you this?"  The boy grinned.  "I'm just the kind of person you can't help but spill your guts too. Will. Will Solace. And you are?"  Will held out a hand.  Nico looked at it.  Will laughed, throwing his head back. It was surprisingly musical. 

"It isn't poisonous, Sunshine."  Nico shook it.  "Nico."  "Cool. You Italian?"  "...yeah?"  "You wanna coffee. In fact... yes, you do, because your eyebags are fucking enormous and I don’t think your gonna last much longer. A flat white okay for ya?"  Nico blinked.   What the fuck. 

Who did this guy think he was. 

Will was already moving to the coffee machine and starting it up.  "Aren’t you scared of someone waking up?"  "Nah. It's, what, three in the morning? My family sleep pretty heavy. Moms gotta get up at four anyway to get ready for work, Kayla tends to wake up with Mom anyway and Austin, well, let's just say you can't wake Austin up before seven anyway."  The machine squeaked and started pouring out shots into the mugs Will had positioned under the spout. As it did that, Will rummaged in fridge and produced milk, then grabbed a tin of sugar from the cupboard. 

Soon there was two mugs of flat white coffee and a plate of cookies sitting on the bench. 

"'lright, dig in, c'mon. It's an insult if you refuse to eat my mom's choc-chip cookies."  Nico grabbed the coffee. He hadn't it for ages, and the sweet flavour hit his tounge in an explosion. He quickly drained it, then grabbed a cookie and bit into it. 

Will leaned on the bench, munching his own cookie. 

The stairs creaked, and Nico jumped. 

Will laughed and peered up the staircase.  "Morning Kayla. We got a visitor"  A female voice, rough from sleep, came back  "Another one? Seriously Will? When are you gonna learn it's gonna get you killed?"  "Oh, please, Percy wasn't dangerous, or Piper, for that matter. And where are they now?"  "At Olympus Uni, I know, I know. So who’s it this time?"  Kayla emerged, looked at Nico, then back at Will, then grunted. 

"'Course you didn't make any coffee for me." 

She walked to the coffee machine and set it running with another mug, then turned back to Nico, who was processing this new information. Finally, he blurted out 

"You knew Percy?"  Will laughed again, and Nico's heart did this weird jump-flip thing.  

"Yup. This ain't my first rodeo, Sunshine." 

"Oh" 

"So you wanna go out somewhere?"  "like friends or like a date?"  Kayla snorted  Will lit her lightly  "What do you want it to be?" 

Nico blinked. 

"um. I don't know."  ~*~ 

And that’s how a theif and pre-med student met  ~*~ 

Shitty ending, I know, but I couldn't keep it going. 'm tiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrred and I wanted 2 get it finished 

Ur welcome 

someone give me prompts

[cavalryofwoah]

How to Get Prescription Medication in the US Dirt-Cheap--with NO Insurance

So, I'll save everyone the sob story, but life the past, oh, 4-ish months has been pretty shitty, and involved a lot of financial woes. Including, to get to the point here, an unexpected gap in my medical insurance. I am on 5 different prescriptions, and couldn't afford to go off any of them, nor afford to pay retail prices. So, as a Frugal Bitch, I figured out how to get them anyway, in a way I could still afford.

I looked at GoodRX, cause that's what I've heard about most online, and used it once, but it wasn't as cheap as legally possible, and 5 prescriptions adds up quick, so I kept looking.

Enter Honeybee Health! (this is not a paid advertisement, nobody would pay me for that, I just want to share savings) Honeybee is a completely legal, certified (in most US states) pharmacy; it's just online, and ships you the prescription.

Bonuses of Honeybee:

No taxes

It is shipped directly to you, so there is no hassle going to pick it up as long as your mail is delivered to you. Mobility-challenged, those without reliable transport, and busy people rejoice, no extra time or effort is required

if you don't pay extra for rush shipping, shipping is free through USPS

because it's not through insurance, they will give you exactly what your doctor prescribed, without trying to limit your dosage or deny the med totally

they let you pick which manufacturer/source you get the generic med from, with their pharmacist's recommendation noted

A personal example as proof: 1 of the meds I'm on is pantoprazole, I get 30 doses a month. With my former "good" insurance it was $10. With GoodRX but no GoodRX Gold membership it is $12.5 at my former preferred pharmacy. With Honeybee Health it is an absolute grand total of $6 for 30 days worth.

Screenshots for evidence. This is the same dosage and amount of the same medication, both the generic version.

Go forth with this new knowledge, and save money.

[court-jobi]

Screaming Color

Gif credit by @ahsokastars Divider credit by @saradika

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader (no use of y/n)

Words: 3,062

Rating: Teen+

Warnings: tw: hospitals, minor descriptions of injury, descriptions of anxiety, resolved angst, worried Mando is worried, but extemely gentle. crying, feels w/a happy ending, gn reader

A/N: Back from an accidental haitus! Fortunately, I have a few fics to crank out at a hopefully quick pace, so enjoy a bit of Mando comfort! Had a piercing headache while writing most of this, so tis fitting~

Summary:

It's clear by the sounds and smells; you're in a med ward, likely still on Londor somewhere. It's drafty and deathly quiet, so you doubt even the heat is running in these rooms. As your memories seep back in from the moments leading up to the accident, there's much you don't recall at first. Last you remembered was suggesting to switch roles: bounty hunter and getaway driver swapped between your Mandalorian's expertise and yours for this job. It'd be worth it, surely, since you were in a rare position to come through with a good contact and 'you could handle it, just this once'.

Until you've wound up here: you with a round of rushed stitches and your Mandalorian resting next to you in full armor-- and he’s holding onto your hand in sleep.

The lights of the room finally come to life after you wake from your black-and-white dreams... once you will your eyes to open up to your Beskar Getaway Driver.

For my Star Wars | Mandalorian Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

There's few weirder feelings in the galaxy than coming out of a forced subsonic sleep. 

Rather than remaining blissfully suspended in a bacta chamber, worlds that couldn't afford those tanks used this: pacs of portable, bubbly liquid that quick-started healing through an IV bag, the old fashioned way. It's effective, for the most part. Only it’s thick and cold, like you could feel it enter and sift through you with every ebb of your pulse...

When you opened your eyes -only a moment, mind you- you only barely caught the blurred color— purple. But this exhaustion, it was bone deep. Your eyes fell shut as quickly as they'd opened. The very lashes of your eyes felt like they were sticking together uncomfortably by some Force: tempting you with 'five more minutes' while your will screams to 'wake up already'. 

It's clear by the sounds and smells; you're in a med ward somewhere. It's drafty and deathly quiet, so you doubt even the heat is on in these rooms. A grace that there is a blanket atop you, this you can tell only by the feel of it weighing down your arms. 

By each of your senses, you gather this is not a standard hospital. Mando swore off those quick-service med stations, because they-- no, surely--

All at once, your gut sank. A heavy thickness rose in your throat, the nausea flared within you. It's right at your mouth now, as you remembered:

You and your stupid ass ideas.

You remembered through the fog of these drugs, the ones that matched the stuffy feeling in your ears; the bits of the last few hours that echoed in your chest in synchronized, double beats. 

Thought you had a great idea, did you? Your mission pitch? Switching roles: leave your Mandalorian to sort out the getaway ride and meet you at the extraction rendezvous. 

This has been an exercise of trust already, suggesting this job. He deferred to you as the lead on this one, for the connections inside the complex were yours to begin with– which prompted the idea of trading responsibilities, too. In every way, this was as good a time as ever for you to try your hand at bounty hunting and make off with the pay grade since it was your intel. You held the cards– a winning hand with this plan.

You hazily recalled that it went well, at least up until the very, very end where you needed the fast exit and didn’t have the luxury of his muscle as backup. No, he was practically spinning his wheels at the pickup point, waiting for you to hurry it up, for once. 

You remembered holding onto your Mandalorian partner-in-crime for dear life and having to intervene as a backseat driver. You remember thanking the Maker and every celestial god out there that there was too much electromagnetic activity surging above you in this energy depot for anyone to be foolish enough to follow and shoot at you. 

But this, the last part of the plan, you remember all too well. 

The nagging itch of your nerve’s warnings and hypotheticals you'd covered over the rec table in the hull of the ship? It came to the forefront with a guilty vengeance. You remembered Mando’s initial doubts and how you turned the tables by making this about trust and reciprocity, and nearly challenging him. You can vividly see him bristling back, and your smug-as-hell words that ‘riding a cinder-fuel bike was like muscle memory that you could never forget’, and that he’d be just fine. You remember the elation of getting your way, and earning the chance to call the shots.

You remembered…

One lane change from the projected route, Mando took a reasonable detour without asking first. You might have warned him against it had you not been watching the rear mirrorcams. But where that turn took you both was just one ill-timed jump, slamming the brakes -ah, yes- just a moment too soon before you could warn him about the auto-stall function of the speeder bike that would send you both flying off the tarmac entirely…

Mando’s quick thinking is typically invaluable in the zero gravity of space. But here, making those hard rights will make you crash: and that’s why you’re usually the driver on the ground. Always. 

Accidents. Too-close calls. The kind that's gonna get you killed– or near to it.

You will never be doing that again. 

‘Stick to your lanes’, he said, likely unaware of the apt wordplay; ‘--Now’s not the time to start switching things up just because you’re bored.’

Only now you could only manage one thought–

Not 'how bad is it' or 'where the kriff am I' or 'please tell me I have all my limbs attached'. Not 'can’t they play some music in this place' or 'am I dead right now'.

Where is he. Where is he, where is he, where is he.

You need him. Your Mandalorian. Good god– if you crashed, he would have too. He would have hit the ground right after you, and his feet were set in the metal guards prior to spinning out, meaning he would have been sealed to the deathtrap, if he didn’t release in time.

Fear brought your eyes to squint open, and you found the ashy purple fluid pac in its fullness hanging in suspension above your cot. You didn’t process the shiny quality of the bag earlier, but rather, how it looked in its reflection: the sight of it on Mando’s helmet as it laid on the bed, by your side. That vibrant color shone against the curve of his chromed helm in a vague copy of the original.

Your Mandalorian rests next to you in full beskar, and he’s holding onto your hand in sleep. 

While the visor is turned to face the monitor high over your shoulder, you know he can’t be awake. His breaths are deep and long– you can watch it over the bump of those broad shoulders. Should you take a look across the expanse of him, all across where that brilliant armor shines, you take in all the colors of the room.

Emergency lights casting their gold glow, the odd dotting of red from the distorted curve of a heat lamp, the purple of your medicines, the electric teal of LEDs bringing inspection light to the space, and of course the harsh, medicinal glow of white– the bare minimum to see your steps along the floors. Why bother looking at your surroundings and moving your hurting neck, when looking at him can tell you everything you need to know?

It’s your not-so-secret way to take in the flurry of hyperspace, too. All these months, you’ve watched the streaks paint his helm and chest plates. The wonders of your galaxy -big and small- all reflect in him. 

If he’s here, you wonder with renewed worry, then he must not be hurt. But– what happened to him then? And where’s the kid?!

Your thoughts clearly rang loudly through whatever aether those stories of the Jedi referenced, because the surprised chirrup of the little green Child you’d made space in your heart for cried out in the dead silence– and subsequently popped Mando’s head up in an instant. His visor shot over his shoulder, in which you saw the Child stand up in his pod and wave at you with a big smile on his face. Without turning much, you made to wave your free hand up so he could see your response.

The mere attempt to smile shot a searing sting back to your face on one side, and brought a moan from your still-thick throat. Unseen by your wince, Mando centered back to you in that moment of shutting your eyes against the flare of pain.

He calls for you in a whisper, but it’s shaky. Wet.

The Child bounces in the pram making happy, enthused noises as he expresses his relief that you’re awake. His performance aims to try and get his Carer to come pick him up and to get a closer look. Mando says something to abate him for the meantime and instead straightens himself, rolls closer to you from the stool he’s seated on.

“Hey-” Mando welcomes you back to the land of the living, “Hey, you.”

You don’t answer. The pain starts pounding and is not letting up.

“Easy now, relax-” Mando’s instruction reaches you, “Don’t tense– we don’t want those to open.”

Those?

With a new sink in your chest, your very core muscles fluttered from creeping anxiety. They tensed and shook already, so there was no prayer in willing yourself to make a move to sit up yet. Taking a deep enough breath would cause them to sieze, certainly. The numbness, next, became apparent to all your limbs. ‘Til now, these drugs kept you asleep and impervious to the pain in your–where is it, your face? Neck? Your helmet had stayed on, but now it was off. Your worry mounted, since the data chip you’d recovered was supposedly safe in its hiding spot you’d kept along the back charging compartment. With it off, you panicked that it was gone now and all this had been for nothing. 

Maybe something broke inside and tore past the padding, and that’s why it cut up your face. Dammit, you liked that helmet. Mando made all those custom adjustments for you…

A terse exhale out, and you can feel how tight your lips are. 

You squeezed your eyes tight for a beat, then your brows. You wrenched your mouth to the side until you felt tightness. Sting. There it is, on your cheek: curving up along your hairline, to your temple where you know you've felt Mando kiss you in the dead and dark of night.

There are stitches laid there now where his affections once made their home. After the pull of pain, there was a faint tickle, meaning the artificial seams were quickly done and left finished in a rush.

Trying to speak on your confusion, a little, pitiful noise left you.

“Wayy– m’helmt…”

Mando pieces together your words, seamlessly on track with your concerns.

“I have it,” he readily assures you, “The faceshield shattered when you fell, and bashed in one side– only the outer plating of the chip cracked. The rest is fine.”

It’s a quick summary, but gives you that small peace of mind. Buckets can be replaced. Though your cheek– that’ll take a bit longer to repair, nature’s way.

“It’s okay, kid,” Mando answers the nervous gargle of the Child, “Just try to–; no, wait there.” 

His hand left yours and while the meds still left you feeling drugish, you felt the loss of that heat source and your nerves faltered. Just that subconscious warmth soothed you like nothing else in this room would, save maybe for the feel of the little munchkin curling up on your chest like he does in the cockpit.

You wish you knew his name. Something beyond ‘sweet boy’ and ‘lil bub’. 

You wish you knew his, too. Whatever language it’s in, however short or long it falls off the tongue. Just anything. Something more tender than ‘ace’ or ‘boss’ or ‘honey’.

The way he moved, quick and at the ready, the Mandalorian must not be injured at all. Perhaps there was something to being encased in armor at all times…

“--n’okay. w‘ll do bubblewrap.”

“--what?” Mando turned down to you with absent confusion.

With a funny, tired smirk, you reiterated, “N’think I need a suit of bubblewrap. Yknow– like y’do  for vases and shit? Make a living off tha’idea, if no one’s done it yet..”

Despite the circumstances, a huff of air left him- something close to a chuckle.

“How about we work on getting what’s under the bubblewrap better for now? We’ll workshop your side hustles later.”

You savored his laugh and agreed, “Fair ‘nuff.”

The Child’s coos were louder now. Mando must have brought the pod over with that little remote he kept in one of his million secret pockets. Just that tune made you feel infinitely better in this strange setting; like you were simply dozing off in the cockpit with their exchanges -back and forth- as your ambient noise. Of course you wished this attention were under better circumstances, but judging by the constant beeps overhead, you’ll clearly live. 

Though not without its scare, it seems. Mando ran his fingers up and down your forearm, 

“Outta run a test on you for brain function, too.”

He had to be mad. No matter how softly he spoke, his disappointment was palpable.

“M’sorry,” you offered sadly, just staring off at the beskar design on his chest. 

But Mando surprised you once again. After a  solemn quiet, even though he had every ground to say a firm ‘I told you so’, he offered a balm to your hurt pride.

“I’ve had my share of bad ideas.” 

While not a full acceptance of forgiveness, it wasn’t cruel. You’d take it. After all, your stunt ended up with you in a medward– likely at his expense, which couldn’t have been cheap to come by in these parts. A swallow and a slight shiver reminded you just how uncomfortable that stim made you.

“At least yours was thought out..” Mando continued more gravely,”– mine is what got you almost killed.”

You perked up at that. What, the jump? “No you didn’t…”

“I should have waited. You know the roads, I should have asked you about the turnoff.”

“There was an overhang. Vis woulda been low for anyone, ev’n me-”

“You’re my partner,” Mando landed firmly, “The responsibility is mine when I’m in the seat. If something happens to you, I am at fault.”

These were testier comebacks than you typically heard from him. Emotions were clearly coming out in droves, and that, too, took you by surprise. Not the fact that he was acting caring -you knew he was, by nature- but that he would blame himself to this extent? That seemed unfair. You could go back and forth on which step of this plan’s failures could have been anticipated. In the end, none of that would help you in the present. 

You tried to ease that guilt, as succinctly as your drug haze would let you. 

“Goes both ways,” you countered gently, fatigue dragging your words down, “We both know that. Accidents happen; s’pecially in this line a’work.”

You flipped your palm over; he laid his inside. You just wanted him. 

“Please don’t beat yourself up for this. Heck, I’m beat up enough for both of us.” 

You tried at a joke, but it did little to fall on receptive ears. 

Even though you gave an empathetic look as best as you could manage, it seemed to only make him more alert. He sat up and squared up, evenly set to keep your attention. Careful of his reach -shaken by nerves- your Mando ever so gently cupped the uninjured side of your face. 

“You and this kid are holding what little heart I have left.” the Mandalorian begged of you softly, “I really can’t lose you now.”

The monitor’s beep increased– though by the look on your face melting into fondness, your protector wasn’t worried about the noise. 

Sentimental metalhead, you preened at such talk. Knowing he let loose this deeper side of him free while he was with you warmed you through.

A sensor still lays tethered on your finger for monitoring, but you brought it up anyway to hold his wrist still… to welcome his touch. All you could really manage was a small, borderline kiss to his thumb that was close enough to the corner of your mouth to try reaching with minimal movement. 

As you recentered to his visor, the staticky noise from his vocoder returned, and with it, the jostle of his shoulders. 

Your eyes stung,too.  “Are you–? You ok?”

The Mandalorian forced back a brave sniff. Steeled his voice and his nervous throat.

“This was a close one,” he warned. “I don’t like close.”

Despite clear feelings staining his throat, you didn’t have the luxury of knowing if his face matched the shakiness of his speaker… but you had a good idea. When your eyes fail, music speaks. Your music was the language of his voice– when it’s clipped and raw with emotion, happy and drawled out with laughter, slow and easy when at the edge of exhaustion. Its melody is one you’ll take over sight, even now.

“This was a close one,” you glanced to the rack of more screens and illuminated bone scans beside you: proof of your current state. For the sake of his composure (and yours), you decided to remain optimistic. “Not to be repeated.”

And to deflect the edge of crying in your voice, you deflected-

“We’ll fail differently next time.”

A little shake of that gorgeous chrome showed Mando’s good nature, “Yeah.”

Another stroke of that kind, inner heart brought him down to give your forehead a kiss- as much as he could with a barrier between. He simply mimicked the motion as one would with a gentle touch and even though the beskar’s edge stung with could, it might as well have been a hot brand that seared straight to your heartstrings. 

Detangling the hand that had subconsciously entwined with his, you offered up a sole finger to him. 

“Pinky promise I’ll stick to my lane? You stick to yours?”

A cut to you hand then back up to you in a huff, 

“Why do the weirdest things leave your sweet mouth…” Mando snarked with a shaky laugh.

“Its’a custom on other planets!”

“Yeah right.” your assurance falls on deaf ears once again. “We’re calling the doc in here.”

He evidently meant that, as he pressed a little com button that lit up the panel on the door, requesting assistance. The Child, seemingly chuffed to sense the somber air of your waking has lifted upon hearing his carer happy again, has begun to make more noise. His little arms are all but stretching in your direction, and fussing at Mando for backup to his wants.

You pointed with the waiting hand, “He gets it~”

“Yeah, he does,” your Mandalorian acquiesces, and links pinkies while looking back at the little green buddy in his pram.  “Takes after you.”