#and like clockwork im sick almost at the same time i was last year

[allbeendonebefore]

i have been stricken with an Illness just when i was gathering strength to go out and draw and it's really tearing me up to be dealt this blow AGAIN, so im spitefully going to heal as soon as possible before it starts raining again >:'T I'm honestly at the point where i have done NO painting since i've been here and if i have to go out and paint in -2 I will do it (For everyone in -50 to -60 in Edmonton right now ;~; )

[someonestolemyshoes]

Hi! Have u done any pregnant Hanji and overprotective daddy Levi already?? Yep i think im craving for more domestic levihan family, im sorry 😭

Im a bit new here in the community, and when i read ur works, i fell in love with it already, thank you for existing!!! 💖💖💖

Hello anon! Thank you so much, I’m so glad you enjoyed my other fics :3 Sorry for the very long wait for this one, I've been struggling to find the time/motivation to write lately, but I'm feeling a little better and I figured I'd get to work on some of my prompts. Starting here!!

It ended up a little less domestic and a touch more angsty than I had originally planned, but only for a moment--happy endings all round! 

Warning: this does start off with non-graphic depictions of nausea/vomiting, I hope that doesn't bother you!

Hange had been feeling unwell for days.

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence—Hange tended to wake up feeling nauseous some days, most often when she'd neglected to eat a decent meal the evening before—but this was the fourth morning in a row now, that Hange found herself bent over the toilet bowl in the early hours of the morning, heaving up nothing but acid and empty air. 

She retched until her stomach ached. There was nothing left to bring up, but her gut still rolled unpleasantly and there was a telling tremor under her tongue that warned her it might be best to stay in the bathroom a little while longer. She settled heavily against the wall to catch her breath.

It didn't make any sense. For most of the day, Hange felt fine. A little tired, maybe, but that was only to be expected after spending half the night every night on the bathroom floor. Tonight, no doubt, would follow the uncomfortably familiar routine: Hange would dry-heave a little longer, until the queasiness abated enough for Levi to convince her to come back to bed, and then she would toss and turn, too warm beneath the bed clothes, until she could fall into a restless sleep. She'd wake up feeling a little groggy, a little bleary, unreasonably hungry, but after a coffee and some breakfast she would feel well again. Perfectly normal.

Like clockwork, Levi appeared in the doorway just as Hange had flopped herself back over the toilet. She felt his palm, cool and soft, press against the back of her neck. Hange gathered her hair back from her face with both hands, braced her elbows on the toilet bowl, letting out a groan of discomfort as her stomach twisted, threatened to revolt again. Levi's thumb rubbed soothingly against her neck.

Sure enough, she brought up nothing more, but she gagged plenty, and found herself gasping for breath by the time she leaned back against Levi, aching and exhausted. His lips pressed into her damp hair.

Levi was as silent as always. His touch was pleasant, his presence welcome. Hange needed the hand he offered to pull her to her feet, needed his reassuring grip at her hips as she brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth out. Her quaking knees felt unstable beneath her. 

He lay facing her after they got into bed. Hange was sprawled out atop the covers, shifting restlessly to find the coolest patches on the bed. Levi watched her for a moment, then said, "This isn't normal."

Hange only grumbled.

"You said you'd book an appointment with the doctor."

Hange grumbled again. Levi ticked his tongue and rolled to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Call tomorrow."

"If I didn't know better," Hange said sluggishly, "I'd say you were worried about me."

He scowled and rolled onto his other side, his back to her now.

"No, just sick of waking up at half four every morning to drag you back to bed."

Hange managed a small, wicked snicker, but shuffled across the space between them and pressed an apologetic kiss to the back of his neck.

"Must be dreadful," she said. Her voice sounded raw, hoarse. She buried her nose into his hair and took a long, deep breath. Levi grunted, but reached back and pulled her arm loosely over his hip. He knotted their fingers together loosely.

"Call them, Hange."

Hange gave his fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"I will."

**

Hange prided herself on being a reasonably intelligent person. She had two degrees, was working towards her doctorate, and already had her name on a small handful of peer-reviewed research papers. She spoke multiple languages, read dissertations for fun, kept a (in Levi’s words) disgustingly realistic human skeleton in a box under the bed for study purposes, and had spent the better part of the last 26 years of her life studying human biology and physiology.  

How she had not predicted that she might be pregnant was almost unfathomable. 

She left the doctors office in a daze with an appointment card and several pamphlets in hand. She had been referred hastily to a midwife and the hospital would soon be sending out a date for an ultrasound—“As soon as possible,” the doctor had said, “since you’re not sure how far along you are.” 

The thing is, Hange had been on the same birth control pill for years now. Forgetful as she may be about many, many things (like eating, and bathing, and washing the dishes and taking out the garbage and and and), Hange was religious in taking that damn pill at the same time every single day. She had never missed it, not even once. Without a regular cycle, Hange had no way of predicting when they had conceived, and the doctor was eager to make sure no essential landmarks in her antenatal care were missed, if they could possibly help it.

The thought had never even crossed her mind. It seemed ridiculous now, in hindsight. The sickness was one thing, but now that she thought about it, there were a whole host of small oddities that Hange could easily attribute to pregnancy. Lethargy, and bloating, heartburn, and she had been peeing more than usual—Hange groaned, and scrubbed her hands over her face. She should have suspected, at least. Should have put the pieces together sooner. 

But, stupid and naive as it may be, she hadn’t thought it possible. Why worry about it, when Hange had taken consistent precautions to avoid it? 

She felt queasy the entire bus ride home. 

It wasn’t that she was against the idea of having children. One day, maybe. When she had finished her doctorate, got herself a steady, well-paid job. When she and Levi had moved out of their tiny, cramped apartment into somewhere bigger, somewhere more suited for a family. 

And god. Levi. 

This was something they’d never really talked about. For his part, Levi never seemed all that interested. He was good with Hange’s nieces and nephews, and Erwin’s son adored him, and he hadn’t showed any express dislike for children, but—well, tolerating other peoples little brats and raising your own are two very different things. 

What if Levi didn’t want the baby? What if he did? Hange wasn’t even sure herself what she wanted to do about the whole situation—what if she didn’t want it? What if, after some reflection, Hange decided now wasn’t a good time? Could they even afford a baby right now? Hange’s money was tied up in her education, while Levi was just making ends meet at the office. They got by well enough with just the two of them, but add in a baby? A whole other person, entirely dependant on them for support? Hange could barely feed and bathe herself, some days, never mind responsibly care for a child. 

By the time the bus pulled up near the house, Hange felt more distressed than ever. Levi, at least, was at work until the evening, so she had a few more hours to herself to mull everything over, but the entire situation made her stomach clench and churn unpleasantly with every new thought. 

The prospect of having a child was terrifying. The prospect of not having this child was nauseating. 

Levi had left the flat in pristine condition when he had left for work, but Hange barely had the energy to feel even a little guilty as she shrugged off her coat and kicked off her shoes, leaving both strewn about the floor. She dumped her bag and made her way sluggishly through to the bedroom. 

Levi had made the bed. The sheet was stretched flat over the mattress, the pillows perfectly fluffed and set against the headboard. Hange’s nightshirt, one of Levi’s old, baggy shirts, too stretched and threadbare for him to wear, had been folded neatly and left on her side of the bed, her slippers lined up smartly with the bed frame. For some reason—hormones, she told herself—her eyes watered, and a lump swelled in her throat. She sniffled pitifully as she stripped off her clothes and pulled on the shirt, clambering into the bed and tugging the sheets until the cocooned around her. 

Hange passed the rest of the day tossing and turning in bed. She tried to nap, but her mind was too restless, occupied with thoughts of the baby, with the concept of having to tell Levi when he came home. She could try to lie, say the doctors had done some blood work, that she was waiting on the results of some test or other, but Levi knew her too well. She could never lie to him, and her despondent state would give her away before she had the chance to say anything. 

The sun was beginning to set by the time she heard Levi’s keys in the door. She felt exhausted, head aching with all the thinking, considering, weighing up her options; with running over every possible outcome she could imagine. Keeping the baby, getting rid of the baby, Levi not wanting the baby, Levi leaving over the baby—every scenario she could imagine was worse than the last. There was only one idea that she had hardly dared entertain, in fear of disappointment if things didn’t work out. 

She heard Levi call out for her, but gave no answer. She listened, curled up in a ball on her side, as he shuffled around, no doubt picking up her coat and shoes from where she had abandoned them. And then he made his way towards the bedroom, steps soft on the plush carpet. The bedroom door creaked open. 

“Hange?” 

She made a small, warbled noise under the bedclothes. Levi came to sit on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His hand found the curve of Hange’s hip. 

“How was it?” 

Hange made another noncommittal sound. She wiped her nose and eyes on the sheets, but didn’t dare show her face just yet. She wasn’t ready. She had never prepared for this conversation, never even imagined it before today. It was too soon. Not enough time to rehearse. 

Levi’s hand moved to her back, rubbing lightly up and down her spine, before dropping to the mattress behind her. He leaned over her, and she felt his lips press warm and gentle to the point of her shoulder. A fresh wave of tears poured over the bridge of her nose and down the side of her face. 

She tried to be quiet, but something—the shake of her shoulder, perhaps, or the shudder of air as she tried to take a steadying breath in—gave way to her crying. Levi moved off the bed, but Hange felt his fingers prying lightly at the sheets, pulling them down until he could get a good look at her face. He was kneeling by the bed now, face level with her, and he looked at her with worry pinching deep creases between his brows. 

“Oi, what’d they say?” 

Hange bit the inside of her lip and rubbed her damp cheek on the pillow. If Levi was bothered by her using their bedding as a tissue, he didn’t show it. He simply looked at her, eyes darting over her face, searching. It occurred to Hange then how this must look to him. She had gone to the doctors due to unexplained, violent sickness, and now she is in bed, hours later, still crying about whatever news she had received. 

“I’m fine,” she said. Levi’s tense shoulders relaxed a fraction, but his face remained pinched, frowning and concerned. Hange wanted to tell him quickly, simply, like ripping off a plaster, but the words would not come. She opened her mouth, but her throat constricted painfully. 

Eventually, she said, “my bag. There’s some stuff in my bag. Have a look.” 

Levi gave her a somewhat quizzical look, but stood, dropping a quick kiss to her temple before going to fetch the bag, and dipping his hand in to fish out the contents inside. 

Hange watched with her breath held and her stomach clenched as Levi pulled out the handful of leaflets and turned them over, looking at each one in turn. His eyes widened fractionally as comprehension dawned on him. His lips pressed into a thin line. Leaden weight settled in Hange’s gut. She curled into a tighter ball, pressing the bedsheets over her mouth and nose, waiting for him to gather himself enough to say something. 

After a moment, he spoke. 

“That’s all?” 

Huh? “Huh?!” 

Hange disentangled her arms from the sheets and sat up, staring at him. Levi moved to sit on the edge of the bed again, a scowl back on his face, though there was an intriguing flush high on his cheeks as he whacked her lightly on the top of the head with the leaflets. 

“Stupid four-eyes,” he said, exasperated. “Crying like that. I thought you were dying.”  

“I’m pregnant.” Hange said the word slowly, carefully, in case Levi had somehow misunderstood. He had the audacity to look at her like she was stupid.

“I can see that.” 

“And you have nothing more to say about it? That’s all?” 

Levi shrugged a little at her. Aside from the small patches of colour in his cheeks, Levi seemed wholly unfazed by the revelation. 

“It’s just a baby. We can handle a baby.” 

“That doesn’t terrify you?” 

Levi scrutinised her for a moment, before he said, “are you scared?” 

“Yes? Yes! How are you so calm? We can’t afford a baby—we don’t have the time for a baby? Where will they going to sleep? We don’t have a spare room. Can we get time off work to take care of a baby? How will we pay for childcare when we can’t be around?” 

“Hange,” Levi said, putting a stop to her rambling. He watched her with a pinched stare. “Do you not want it?” 

Hange had spent the majority of the day mulling over this same question. Staring a family was a huge, life-changing commitment, something that required  careful forethought and planning. They had not had that luxury. Hange was pregnant now. She had doubts and fears, more than she could ever express, but the idea of simply having a baby—of having this baby—wasn’t upsetting. In the small, brief moments she had allowed herself to imagine a future where she and Levi were parents, where they weren’t wanting for money or time, where things were well, she felt happy. Giddy. The prospect was almost exciting. 

“It’s not that,” Hange said earnestly. “I do—I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I—I do want it. But I just—we had no time to prepare. We have no savings, we have no space, I’m a mess. How are we supposed to take care of a tiny person? Babies are hard work, Levi.”

“You’re already hard work.” 

Hange laughed weakly, and wiped at her face again. Levi pressed a kiss to her raw cheek. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he said.

Hange leaned into him, sighing quietly. 

“Is this the kind of thing we can just figure out?” 

Levi hummed, shrugging his shoulder. His fingers skimmed up beneath Hange’s shirt, splaying over the small of her back and pulling her closer. 

“Why not? We’ve done a good job bullshitting our way through everything else.”  

Hange laughed lightly and bumped the side of her head against Levi’s.  

“This is different, Levi. This is a person. A tiny little person who is going to need me and you to do everything for them. What if we can’t do it? What if we mess up?” 

“Hange.” Levi pulled back a little and his hands came up to grip either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. “Stop. I know all that. But if you want the brat, and I want the brat, we’ve got no choice but to get on with it.” 

“I know, I know, but—wait, you want the baby?” 

Levi maintained eye contact with her, but it seemed to take a concentrated effort to do so. The flush of his cheeks deepened a little and his lips quirked at the corners. No doubt to compensate for the show of emotion, he pulled his face into his customary frown. 

“It’s fine,” he said. Hange fought the urge to roll her eyes and caught his hands as he lowered them from her face, pulling them into her lap. 

“Are you saying that because it’s already too late, or do you want to keep it?” 

Levi’s face took on a look of constipated strain. He curled his lip as though in distaste, then hooked a hand around the back of Hange’s neck and pulled her face to his abruptly, smacking a kiss to her lips. He let his forehead settle against hers and stroked his thumb over the hinge of her jaw. 

He fought to keep his tone neutral, but Hange could hear the happy tremor in his voice as he said again, “It’s fine.”

For the first time since hearing the news that day, Hange allowed herself to feel excited. To accept the idea that she and Levi were about to start their own bizarre little family. That Levi was still with her felt incredible enough, but to know that he was pleased—it was more than she could ever have hoped for. Hange gave a wet laugh and kissed him again. 

“Are you allergic to looking happy?” Hange asked as they broke apart. Levi clicked his tongue and pulled back to flick her square between the eyebrows. She laughed a little louder and leaned to wipe her runny nose on his shoulder. Levi muttered under his breath, but didn’t push her away.  

“Okay,” Hange said, after a moment. She sat back and pushed her hair back from her face. “Okay. We’re having a baby, then.” 

Levi’s rubbed the smile from his lips with the back of his hand, nodding. “We’re having a baby.” 

Hange sunk down to flop back over the pillows. Levi looked down at her, head tilted, chewing the inside of his lip. Hange reached up to brush his fringe off his forehead, warmth spilling in her chest when he held her hand close and turned to kiss her palm. 

She smiled a little playfully, and freed a leg from the sheets to dig her toes into his ribs. 

“If I’d known you wanted kids I would have been significantly less stressed, you know.” 

Levi quirked a brow at her. 

“I’ve told you that before.” 

“No, you haven’t.” 

“I have. At your sisters wedding.” 

Hange racked her brain, searching for the conversation. She remembered the occasion, and she remembered that she and Levi had somehow ended up babysitting Hange’s family brood. She remembered Levi, wrestling to keep her youngest nephew on his lap while the eldest, still only five or six at the time, was clambering up the back of his chair, sticky hands tugging at Levi’s collar. Hange fought hard to recall more of what was said, but could remember nothing at all of Levi announcing that he had wanted one of his own. 

“You said these brats aren’t so bad,” Hange said slowly. 

Levi nodded at her. Hange waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t, only looked at her like there was nothing more he needed to say. 

“That’s it? That’s your idea of telling me you want kids?” 

“The hell else could I have meant?” 

Hange dug her toe at him again but Levi caught her foot this time, pushing it firmly down onto the mattress. Hange reached for him with both arms instead, curling them around the back of his neck and tugging him down quickly. He toppled over her with a quiet oof, and Hange rolled them quickly, straddling his waist and dropping her weight down onto him. 

“That is the kind of thing you say clearly, Levi! These brats aren’t so bad—you’re ridiculous!” 

Levi wrestled with her arms a little longer before giving up and bringing his hands instead to rest low on her hips. He watched her with a curious expression on his face, something open and soft, and then his eyes roved down to her abdomen and his thumbs brushed inwards, beneath the hem of her shirt, stroking over her lower belly. 

This time, he didn’t fight his smile. 

He reached up and pulled her down by the neck, and kissed her soundly. Hange melted against him, welcomed the press of his tongue between her lips, shuddered pleasantly when he nipped at her bottom lip. She went with him willingly as he rolled them both over, nudging a knee between her legs and settling his weight against her. 

She was spreading her legs to make space for him, when he paused suddenly, and pulled back, leaning over the bed and scooping through the discarded back of leaflets. Hange, winded and dishevelled, watched him incredulously as he flicked through the contents of one, then tossed it aside and opened another. 

“What are you doing?” 

Without looking up, Levi replied, “Checking.” 

“Checking what?” 

“I wanna know if we can still—” he waved a hand between them, and went back to searching. 

“We’ve been—” Hange mimicked his gesture, “—up until now anyway.” 

Levi looked up at her, looking mildly horrified. He held up one his open leaflet and said, “You’ve been drinking alcohol, too. You’re not supposed to do that. And look, here—you’re not supposed to overwork. You’ll have to take on less hours at the university. And you’ll eat. Proper damn meals. Every day.” 

Hange flopped back against the pillows, eyes rolling, watching as Levi picked up each new leaflet in turn, pointing out every little adjustment that Hange would have to make. 

“This one says you should get eight to ten hours sleep per night. Every night. And not so much coffee, the caffeine’s bad for the baby.” 

The baby. It sounded surreal. It sounded ridiculous. Levi shifted to sit against the headboard beside her after opening the chunky little What to Expect While Expecting volume Hange had been handed while leaving the doctors. He seemed thoroughly engrossed, and seemingly unaware when one of his hands reached out to pull Hange’s hair free of its ponytail and sink into her hair. She hummed happily as his nails scraped over her scalp. 

Things were still scary, and Hange was still uncertain about how this whole adventure might turn out. But Levi was still with her, and Levi was happy, and that—

—Well, that was good enough. 

[artificialqueens]

(I Can Still Recall) Our Last Summer - Chapter Six (Group Fic) - pureCAMP

A/N - so here we go! as u might remember, a phrase coined from mean queens several aeons ago…. welcome to the fuckening. from here on out, it will be disastrous because thats just how we do things these days

im going on holiday for a week now so here’s ur update!! will be back soon with more and potentially some shillam and shalaska <3

“Mommy! Mommy, look!”

The little girl, her hair in messy pigtails around her face, was playing with her younger brother. She couldn’t have been any more than five years old. Sharon smiled, nodding intently to show her daughter that she was paying attention. It was one of those lazy summer days, most of which had been spent lying on a towel, watching her beautiful children play as she soaked up the sun. Next to her, Justin was watching too, his gaze filled with adoration.

“We’re so lucky,” Justin breathed, his voice low. His hands ghosted over Sharon’s sun-warmed skin, a tender display of affection.

The little girl attempted a somersault, and they both clapped. When she righted herself, she was beaming.

“Yeah. We are.” She agreed, burying her face in his shoulder. She allowed herself a moment of clarity, to just take in his scent as he watched the kids. Everything was perfect.

The warm sensation soon faded, and as Sharon lifted her head, she was filled with an icy shock. Her face was no longer buried in Justin’s shoulders. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He was no longer watching the kids, and they were screaming - crying out desperately as an unseen force dragged them into the sea. Their tiny fingers left lines in the sand as they tried to anchor themselves to the shore.

Soon she found herself running, ignoring how the beach had transitioned from idyllic and peaceful to grey and violent. The wind whipped at her as she tried to run at her children, biting at her skin and forcing her back. The last she saw of her children, their screams were being swallowed by the monstrous waves that were cannibalizing the beach.

Sharon sat bolt upright, panting. She was covered in a sheen of cold sweat, having awoken in a sheer panic from her nightmare.

They had been happening for five nights in a row now, and she didn’t know what to make of them.

It wasn’t always children. Sometimes she was on stage, performing as usual, and one energetic jump would lead to the stage collapsing, and she would fall into an abyss, screaming. Other times, she was arguing with her mother, who would then pull out a knife and carve a grisly crucifixion onto her stomach. Whatever the dream, it was always harrowing, and she awoke the same way - in the peak of her terror, sweating and shaking.

She leant back, breathing heavily as she tried to relax. If this dream was textbook - following the pattern of all her others - then soon enough, she would be suffering with the more physical effects of her tormented mind.

Sure enough, like clockwork, the nausea within her rose quickly. It was a race against time, and Sharon was briefly grateful to be in the house she hated so much, as the bathroom was just a few feet from her bedroom door. Thankfully, she made it in good time, and ended up crouched over the toilet bowl, retching and spewing what little she had consumed.

Sharon had done everything she could think of to find the root of her weird dreams and sickness. Cutting out alcohol had been the first and most obvious one, but it seemed that a string of terrible hangovers hadn’t been causing her morning misery. She tried to eat better and move more, but nothing helped. After that, she’d been pretty stumped for causes.

The whole ordeal usually lasted about an hour, although she spent at least half of the day feeling sick and wobbly. She assumed, grimly, that that would be the case for as long as the illness lasted. In the meantime, she wasn’t going to let that stop her. With not so long left until her friends headed off into Europe to pursue their further education, Sharon wanted to spend every moment of her time with Jinkx and Raja.

Once she was sure that everything she had eaten had come back up, she cleaned herself up and got dressed, leaving as quickly as she could. There was a narrow window of time during which her mother would be out, pottering to do errands for the church, so she needed to take it to avoid a confrontation. It was the safest option to just avoid her as much as possible.

The state of her family life was depressing. Sharon closed the front door behind her and tried not to think about it.

-

Before heading to Raja’s, Sharon made a quick trip to the store near her house. It was her go-to - maybe because she could buy anything she wanted without fear of it being traced back to her mother. Despite Jinkx always claiming she was paranoid, Sharon knew her mother had eyes everywhere. Once, she had attempted to buy a magazine that had been deemed ‘inappropriate’ by her mother’s standards, and three different people had reported back to her mother. She knew most of them through church, and there was no shortage of religious fanatics working in and around the local shops. Sharon much preferred the safety of the shops near Raja, where no one she knew would frequent.

Her goodbye gifts already picked out, Sharon decided to just wander a little, mostly searching for the cider Raja had been begging her to get and hoping her nausea would calm down. She was just reaching for the third can when somebody bumped into her.

“Ooh, sorry!” A soft voice said. Sharon looked up, making eye contact with a gentle-looking woman. She was blushing with embarrassment, and gesturing apologetically towards her swollen stomach.

“I’m still figuring out how to manoeuver myself with this one! Sorry, sweetheart.” The woman continued. She patted Sharon’s shoulder before continuing on her way, the mishap already forgotten in her mind.

In complete contrast to the kindly woman, Sharon felt as though a cold fist had squeezed her heart into a vice grip. It was as if sense had slapped her straight in the face, and she was reeling from the sting of the revelation.

Feeling sicker than ever, she tossed the drinks into her bag and walked to the opposite corner of the store. A burning shame permeated her whole body as she scanned the aisle, overwhelmed with choice. It made her beyond angry that her supposed faith, something she didn’t believe in and never would, could still condition her to feel so disgusting.

The innocent white boxes lined the aisle from top to bottom, wall to wall. Some of them had smiling babies on, with big blue eyes and no teeth. Some had large, rounded bumps, as though the idiot models really needed that purchase just to make sure. Some of them were just plain and simple. Some of them showed couples embracing together, their loving expressions mocking her. We’re married, financially-stable adults planning a family. You’re a slut.

She snatched the closest one from the shelf and left, her cheeks flaming.

The cashier, of course, said nothing. He had no reason to care about the anxieties of a seventeen year old, despite Sharon’s worry that everyone was judging her. He didn’t even blink when she snatched up the offending box and buried it underneath the rest of her purchases, trying to pretend it wasn’t there.

At Raja’s house, it was all she could think about. The three cans of cider - which were, admittedly, amazing - had been poured into glasses, but she felt too nauseous to have much more than a sip of her own. It took all that she had to try and look normal, to mask the sickness and the anxiety that wrestled in the pit of her potentially-pregnant stomach. 

It was terrifying.

Whenever she spaced out, becoming entrapped in her own thoughts, she laughed herself out of it, pretending to Raja and Jinkx that she was just feeling a little dreamy.

“It’s probably sex-withdrawal.” Raja laughed. “I get all spacey when I haven’t fucked in too long. It’s been forever since we ran into asshole Justin for the first time. You haven’t been fucked in at least a month. It’s so bad when you get the bug for it. Go and find a man, it’ll drive you crazy if you don’t.”

Jinkx clinked their glasses together, clearly in agreement. “Or I’ll do it. Girls know what girls like.”

Sharon forced out a laugh. “Ha, maybe. I’m just gonna use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”

Her mind was fixated on that evil box, still sitting at the bottom of her bag. If she didn’t do it now, she would never have the courage to find out. Her bubbling apprehension wouldn’t be able to stay simmering long enough to play the waiting game. She had to find out, if only to put her mind at rest.

She practically tore through the box, gulping as the little stick fell into her hands. It was a clean slate, waiting to predict her future. Reading the instructions on how to make the plastic fortune-teller work, she sat and wished the damn thing would just stay blank. She needed to know, but knew she couldn’t face it.

“If sufficient levels of HCG are present then…” Sharon mumbled under her breath, reading the label. She almost tossed it onto the floor when she reached the end.

How obnoxious. If she was pregnant, two lines would appear, and the little smiley face already at the end of the stick would smile at her, reflecting the happiness that all new mothers should feel. To most people who bought it, it was a sweet memory to look back on. To Sharon, it would be a garish joker, taunting her of her stupidity.

In order to avoid arousing suspicion, she activated the test and then shoved it deep into her pocket. As a decoy, she flushed the toilet, washed her hands and headed out, making a show of looking calm and casual. Her cider glass was empty, and the mischievous grins of her friends told her exactly where the drink had gone.

“You snooze, you lose.” Jinkx told her triumphantly. “Sorry. Did you buy any more?”

“No. I didn’t buy anything else.” Sharon said, a little too quickly. “It’s okay, anyway. You guys like it more than I do.”

Any conversation she tried to make was pointless, and every fibre of her being just wanted to burst into tears. It would be a while until she saw Raja and Jinkx again, after they’d left, and she didn’t want them to remember her as depressed and dull, a shell of the lively girl they knew her as. That was how she’d been ever since Justin left, even with her distractions on the side, but now it was worse than ever. The worry was killing her.

All she needed was to see one line, and the smiley face would look kindly, reminding her that even though her luck was terrible, somebody up there was on her side. Surely, someone up there had seen how her heart had been broken three times by lovers, about to be broken a fourth by her friends, and would cut her some slack. There was no way she was that unlucky.

Whilst Raja and Jinkx started discussing their plans for the future, Sharon held her breath and started to count.

“I wonder how many hot French boys there’ll be in Paris.”

One, two, three, four, five, six… What happens if there’s a positive? What if it’s a false?

“Apparently the place is like, rife with lesbians. There’s an infestation. Sounds like my kinda place.”

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen… Could I really be pregnant?

“My dad paid for the nicest accommodation ever, I’m so excited. You two have to visit me there!”

Twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty, thirty one, thirty two, thirty three… How will I pay for a baby? I’ll need to get a job and find somewhere to live…

“My halls have this huge auditorium! We could put on a concert there!”

Forty two, forty three, forty four, forty five, forty six, forty seven… Would I be a good mom? What do you even do?

“I’m gonna miss you so much, Sharon. You gotta come and visit.”

Fifty five.

“Yeah! Same here. I wish you could come too.”

Fifty six. I’ll be fine. It’s gonna be fine.

“I can’t believe our last show is next weekend. It’s all happening so fast.”

Fifty seven. Fuck, it’s not going fast enough.

“This summer has been the best one ever. I’ll never forget it.”

Fifty eight. This has been the longest minute of my life.

“Me neither. I feel like everything has changed this summer. It’s completely unforgettable.”

Fifty nine. Oh god, I can’t look.

“God, I love you girls so much.”

Sixty.

She looked.

“Are you crying?”

Sharon wiped her eyes with her sleeve, chuckling weakly. “Oh, ignore me, seventeen and crying over my friends. I’m just thinking about how much I’m gonna miss us! I’m nothing without you two, my best friends.”

Raja softened. “Aww, sweetheart! You’re a strong, fiercely independent woman, whether we’re here or not. I’m gonna miss you every day!”

“I think we need a hug, no more tears.” Jinkx insisted. “Hugs fix everything.”

Sharon laughed once again, sniffing as she buried herself into her friend’s embrace. Hugs fix everything, except for when you have an unfixable problem growing inside you. 

Two little lines stared back at her.

Justin had cheated; Jaremi had run away; Willam had gone home. Her two best friends - her only friends - were leaving: Raja for Paris and Jinkx for Amsterdam.

And Sharon was pregnant.

-

It wasn’t going away. Normally, if she tried hard enough, she could simply ignore the problem and it would go away. It would disappear and float away into the ether, and she would wonder why she had ever worried about something so obsolete.

It wasn’t working this time.

For one, it never left her mind. Her dreams were cursed with visions of shrieking babies and boyfriends who would flit in and out, breaking up with her in various ways. During the day, her mind was haunted in the same way - the vision of that positive swirling in the back of all of her thoughts. She had an aversion to the fish in the marketplace and thought, absentmindedly, it was probably to do with that. She saw babies being carried by their sweet, caring mothers and wondered if she really had it in her to be a mom, or whether she had to take some kind of action to end it.

Secondly, her sickness only worsened. In order to avoid her mother noticing, she had been leaving the house early; she rose before five just so she could go out and be sick somewhere else. The nausea didn’t seem to want to leave her, either. It hung around all day, jolting her stomach at the slightest scent it didn’t agree with. Two nights ago, at the taverna, the heady scent of beer had set her off, leading to Raja and Jinkx performing without her as she retched in the dressing room toilet. All she had to do was say she had a bug, and they left it at that. Even when she seemed fine, they didn’t ask. Sharon was glad for that. When she flat-out refused to perform the next night, they shrugged and assumed she was still wobbly.

And last - but worst of all - it wasn’t physically going away. The damned thing was slowly becoming more visible, and she had begun to notice it.

The final Supermodels show had come upon them, and Sharon decided she couldn’t miss it for the world. It was a Saturday; in just four short days, her friends would be jetting off to begin the next chapter of their lives, leaving her to figure out how she would handle the next chapter of her own. Despite her anxiety and nausea, Sharon was resolute. She was going to do the show.

A full length mirror stood before her. They had decided, for their grand ‘going away’ performance, they would break out the showy little number they reserved for special occasions. Each of them had a specific colour dress - Sharon in blue, Raja in orange and Jinkx in green - which reached about mid-thigh and clung tight. There was a zip at the back and sequins bedazzling the entire outfit. It was beautiful.

It was also too small.

Sharon had always been slim. Growing up with her strict mother, who was always the type to belittle her for eating too much, she had been spindly and wiry for most of her childhood. As she’d gotten older, she’d grown a little curvier - not as curvy as Jinkx, but not as skinny as Raja. Either way, she had always been a slim girl. But now she was changing, and rapidly.

“Damn, girl! You could take somebody’s eyes out with those!” Jinkx had joked earlier that evening, gesturing at Sharon’s chest. That was worrying enough, but it only increased when she tried the fucking dress on.

It would not zip. The tiny zip went over her thighs, just towards her hips, and then stopped. No amount of force could tug it upwards, no matter how hard she tried. The little tell-tale tummy she’d acquired was making sure of that. Against her better judgement, she tried to suck it in, but to no avail. The curve of her tummy remained, the zip stayed stuck.

Examining herself in the mirror, Sharon frowned. Her chest felt tight. Her own body felt alien, as though it didn’t belong to her. Instead it belonged to that thing, the thing taking up residence inside her.

Sharon mustered as much courage as she could simply to open her mouth. It took a few seconds for the words to follow.

“Hey I… I don’t think I’m gonna do the show tonight. You girls go ahead without me.”

It was pathetic, how shaky and unsure she sounded. Raja and Jinkx’s fluid conversation about whether they should ever switch up the colour scheme silenced immediately, and Sharon cursed herself. It was the last show the girls might ever get to do in their current states, their final goodbye to this part of their lives. They couldn’t just do it without her.

Jinkx sounded hurt. “We’re a trio! We can’t be The Supermodels if we’re a duo!”

“Just do it!” Sharon snapped, her voice shrill. Reality was falling onto her shoulders, crushing her beneath its weight, and the fear of change had encapsulated her heart. If they carried on asking questions, she would have to tell them, and if she had to tell them then she had to acknowledge that it was happening, and she really really really was not ready to acknowledge what was happening.

At her tone, Raja’s voice softened. “Still not feeling good, darling?” She asked. She sounded almost motherly, tinged with the care and love Sharon knew she wouldn’t get from her own mother. “It’ll pass, I promise.”

Sharon sighed. “Yeah. B-But it’s not just that.”

“What else is stopping you?” She pressed, gently.

All at once, everything that was stopping her seemed to form an avalanche of emotion, crushing her chest and squeezing her ribcage until she could do nothing but break. Tears began brimming in Sharon’s eyes, slowly enough that it gave Jinkx and Raja time to edge forwards until they were just behind her screen.

“My… my dress. It doesn’t… fit, anymore.” Sharon sniffed, trying to hold back the steadily increasing stream of her tears with little success. Every fibre of her being didn’t want to tell them, didn’t want to have to acknowledge it, but there was no avoiding it now.

Sharon covered her face as they joined her, all three staring into the same mirror. Her vision was blurred from the tears, and she felt Raja’s hand on her exposed back, where the dress should’ve been zipped. Each of them just stared, not sure what to say, not wanting to assume the obvious.

“Take it off, sweetie,” Jinkx instructed softly, moving to assist Raja in unzipping the dress and letting Sharon step out of it. “That’s it, you’re okay.”

In just her underwear, Sharon felt more exposed than ever. There was no hiding her secret from her friends anymore, no convenient bags or flowy shirts to obscure it from sight. The tears slowed a little, allowing her a shaky view of herself in the mirror. Jinkx and Raja clung to her as if trying to keep her in one piece, seeming to sense how close she was to collapsing.

“Fucking Justin.” Raja cursed, quietly. “He did this to you.”

Sharon pushed down the doubts in her mind, the subtle suggestion that maybe this wasn’t him. She knew it was likely, but she knew there were two other candidates who she could never mention.

“I know,” She breathed. “I don’t know what to do.”

Jinkx bit her lip. “You can either keep it or… not.”

“I’m not ready to make that choice.”

“You shouldn’t have to be.” Raja butted in, her tone fierce and her eyes flaming. “He should’ve been more careful, he shouldn’t have let this fucking happen to you!”

“It takes two, Raj!” Sharon found herself almost shouting. “It wasn’t just him! This isn’t his fault.”

In a moment of confusing, blind anger, Sharon stormed away from her friends to gather her regular clothes, tired of feeling vulnerable and naked. The tension in the dressing room had quickly become thick enough to cut, as it became clear that neither of the three girls knew how to react to the situation they were confronted with.

“Why are you defending him? You should be furious. This is huge.” Raja changed her tone, suddenly solemn and serious.

Sharon sighed. “Don’t you see? I have nothing to be furious at. Justin’s gone, he doesn’t know anything about this. I can’t get mad at him for something he knows nothing about.” She paused. “And… I don’t know. It doesn’t seem fair to get mad at…”

Her throat closed up. Jinkx, her eyes welling up with tears, rushed over and nearly toppled her with the force of her bear hug.

“The baby.” She supplied, tearfully saying what Sharon didn’t seem to be able to do. “You can’t be furious at a baby.”

Immediately after, the mood of the room seemed to shift. Everything was out in the open now. Jinkx had delivered the bomb they were all waiting for, and now they had to discuss the fallout.

“The baby,” Raja repeated, seemingly awestruck. “Oh my god, there’s a baby.” 

Sharon wrapped her arms around her stomach, as if to hide it. “There’s a baby.”

She told them as much as she could bear; the nights with Justin, the bouts of sickness and the strange dreams, how she had taken the test in Raja’s house and kept up the smiles as her world crashed down at her feet. Now that she was confessing it all to her friends, she felt bad for being so secretive. Part of her knew she should tell them about the other potential fathers, but for the sake of her own dignity she decided against it. They, of course, would never shame her, but she saw no sense in naming the two men that her friends would never meet. It was best not to overcomplicate things. After all, it was difficult enough with a baby.

“It’s okay, though,” Raja was saying, back to business as usual. “I’ll book you in with my doctor, darling, she’s fantastic. She does confidentiality like it’s nobody’s business, literally. Never told a soul when I had that STI test. Which, by the way, was negative because I’m clean.”

Her intelligent, abrupt nature was already doing wonders for Sharon’s peace of mind. Raja was always good at sorting through the bullshit - sometimes lacking in tact, but with a kind heart determined to fix each and every problem she encountered. 

“I can’t afford your doctor, Raj.” Sharon told her. “I don’t have any money of my own. And there’s no way my mom can pay without asking what it’s for and then finding out.”

Raja rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, Needles. I’m paying for the doctor, shut up.”

“You don’t ha-”

“Bitch, I said shut up. I’m paying for it. It’s not an offer or an obligation, I’m just doing it.”

She blew a kiss and stepped out of the dressing room as Sharon giggled weakly. Jinkx kissed her temple.

“Whatever decision you make, we’re with you the whole way.” She promised. “And we would be great aunties.”

Sharon nodded. “I don’t know what I’ll choose yet. Maybe I should just… give the thing up for adoption. I’d be a terrible mother. I don’t exactly have the best role model.”

Jinkx scoffed. “Be your own role model.” She shrugged. “If you decide to keep the baby, who’s to say you’d be a bad mom? I think you’d be amazing. It’s about love, not being perfect. And I know you have a lot of love in you.”

In some ways, Sharon appreciated Jinkx’s gentle, caring instincts more than her sly sense of humour. It was a relief to have a friend that she could laugh with and cry with, who would hold her tightly and work through her emotions until she could stand on her own two feet again. She had a feeling that, depending on the choice she made, their support would be all that she had to keep herself going.

Raja reappeared. “I cancelled the show. Let’s get you out of here.”

-

Two major changes had taken over Sharon’s life, and she finally felt prepared to face them. The morning, as she knew, would be difficult - she would be seeing off her friends in their brand new beginning and then getting ready to face her own. None of her decisions had been easy, but she felt that they were the best ones she could make.

Surprisingly, as she lingered at the top of the staircase, trying to fill herself with the confidence to walk past her mom and out of the door, she found that the old fear that used to gnaw at her was ebbing away. The heavily-adorned crosses all over the walls judged her and she judged them back, wondering how a woman who believed so deeply in a man dying for their sins could be so against love and acceptance. The so-called mother she had grown up with was nothing more than a bully using the cover of religion as a defense, and Sharon wasn’t going to be afraid of her anymore.

She headed downstairs.

“I’m going out,” She called into the kitchen. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to dash from the kitchen to the front door, and her mom soon confronted her.

“No you’re not, young lady.” She admonished. Her hands were covered in flour, leaving white marks all over her sensible floral dress. “The church bake sale is today and I told them we would be there to help sell everything. You’ve been slacking again, Sharon, and I won’t have it.”

All of her confidence gathered from moments ago deflated like a sad balloon. Still, Sharon stood fast. “Well, you’re gonna have to tell them they’re down a member, because I’m not going.”

Her mom narrowed her eyes. “Don’t argue with me. You know what I can do.”

“You can’t do shit to me.” Sharon bit back. “I’m going to see off Raja and Jinkx, they’re leaving today. That’s that.”

“It’s always about you, isn’t it?” Her mom replied, taking a step closer. Instinctively, Sharon took one back. “I slave away to make sure you have a home, food, a good Christian upbringing and a decent education, and what do I get in return? I get your rudeness, your attitude.”

Sharon tried to interject, but there was no stopping her.

“I give you a home, you’re never here. I feed you, you don’t eat it. I diligently take you to church and you swear and sin like a heathen, purposely embarrassing me when all I do is try and do my best for you. You didn’t try at school, and now you’re wasting your time on sin and recreation even when I try to offer alternatives. So I have to discipline you, and then you think I’m evil. I’m not evil, I’m not disgraceful. You are. You’re a selfish daughter.”

Already, Sharon could tell things were going to go from bad to worse. The morning had barely started and they were already getting into a heavy argument that she knew would end in disaster.

“I’m selfish? Because you like to hit me?” She asked, in disbelief. “Do you think I enjoyed telling my teachers that my bruises were from me being some kind of fucking idiot, because you told me you’d do it again if I told them the truth? Because I didn’t fucking enjoy that, mother.”

“Don’t use that vile language, Sharon. It’s unbecoming of a young lady, as far from one as you might be.” Her mom hissed. “I don’t enjoy hitting you. I do what’s necessary to keep you in line. Our Lord told us to discipline our children. All I ever try to do is his bidding. All you care about are disgusting words and disgusting sins.”

All at once, a surge of white-hot anger lacerated Sharon’s body, releasing the boldness that Raja and Jinkx had always urged her to use. “Oh, fuck you and your shitty religion. Fuck you, fuck God, fuck Dad for never being here. His shitty missionary activism means nothing. All you care about is that everyone follows your fucking Bible and you focus so much on the lives of innocent strangers that you don’t even notice the shit happening right in front of your own eyes!”

She was pacing now, trying to rid herself of the all-consuming frenetic energy. “Fuck you. I’m not the selfish one, you are.”

Her outburst would not go unpunished. As she had seen many times before, her mom’s eyes flashed dangerously. It was as if all at once, her kindly Christian mother facade had melted away, flickering back to reveal her twisted reality. Though physically, nothing changed besides the clenched jaw and closed fist, Sharon suddenly saw her through the lens of her childhood fears. She was eight feet tall, laughing maliciously, her hands slowly raising upwards as she prepared to deliver a menacing blow. It would leave bruises that she should be ashamed of, for the abusive monster had won again and again.

Not again.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch me!” Sharon yelled. Her eyes were filled with furious tears. “I will never let you treat me like a doormat ever again. I will never let you abuse me in the name of your fucking God. This isn’t just about me anymore, which you would know if you fucking paid attention to the child you pretend to love.”

Without even realising, Sharon cupped her hands over her stomach. Somewhere in there, tucked away in the small bump she could feel beneath her fingers, she knew her baby was rooting for her.

“You disgust me.”

Her mom’s tone was much quieter, the fiery, destructive anger replaced with the slow black smoke that lingered afterwards. It was tinged with loathing, telling of her honest reaction to the news. Somewhat calmed - unbelievably - by the feeling of the bump in her hands, Sharon closed her eyes.

“Mom, please.”

Anything else she wanted to say to defend herself dissipated. Her mom’s sheer hatred silenced her before she could even process her own thoughts.

“Seventeen?!” She exclaimed, incensed, and threw her hands up in the air. “And I did everything right, too. I was a good Catholic mother. Lord, what did I do to deserve a slut for a daughter?!”

Despite everything, it still felt like a punch in the gut to hear such scathing words from the only person who was supposed to love her unconditionally. Sharon had known she would react explosively, but it hurt more than she wanted to admit.

“Mom, I-”

The woman stood before her pursed her lips, perfectly still. Her gaze was livid, her body stiff with rage. She looked at Sharon as though she were scum, a piece of dirt, a blight on her picture perfect life.

“I didn’t raise you to be like this.”

“You didn’t raise me at all!” Sharon bit back. “You were never here for me. You’re a shitty mother!”

“I’m not your mother.” She delivered the final blow in a low voice. “No daughter of mine would turn out to be a whore. A slut. You’re on your own.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Sharon raised her chin as high as she could. “Good riddance. This is the last time you’ll ever see me.”

“Get out of my house.”

Carrying only an old diary and an album full of photos with her, Sharon crossed the threshold of her front door for the last time, and heard it slam behind her. There was no going back now.

“We’re gonna be okay, you and me,” She whispered, her head hung low. “We’ll build a life together. I’ll be a good mom, I swear. I’ll show you just how much I love you, every day.”

[lupizora]

Midnight Snow

Hello, @avistella ! I’m your extremely late Secret Santa for the @kacchakosecretsanta event. I promised a Knight AU so here it is. There was so much I had planned to write, some I’ve hinted in the fic itself. but didn’t have the time. So after my exams are over, I really want to give you the rest of it. I wish the new year brings you calm times and happiness!! Hope you like it!

The title was suggested by Gab ( @silhouettart ) from the kacchako server. Thank you so much!!

Genre: Humor/Romance/Fluff 

Pairing: Bakugou x Uraraka

Rating: G

Word Count: 2431

Summary: Quiet nights are rare for these Knights-in-training, especially when winter just decided to dress everything in white. A challenge is issued and declarations are made, but deep down Ochako only wanted to know if she had a future where Katsuki could be a part of. 

The cheerful chime of the clock tower's bells reverberated all the way to the eastern bastion. Ochako huddled deeper into her fur coat and rose from her seat. The shift was over. Soon someone would come to relieve her from her duties. Lo and behold, like clockwork, Sir Gunhead's footsteps echoed on the staircase. His burly frame, combined with his armor, almost reached the support beams of the ceiling when he entered the room.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

Ochako stood in alert. "Yes, sir! No trespassers or potential assassins scaled the walls. The crown can rest in peace tonight."

He chuckled, the sound ringing through his helmet. "Thank you for all your hard work, squire Uraraka. You're dismissed. Return to your chambers and get some rest."

Placing her fist on her chest, she bowed slightly. "I will."

"And watch your step on the wall."

The warning seemed a bit odd. Stray lonesome snowflakes had danced outside the narrow windows of the bastion for most of the shift. Ochako thanked him but it wasn't until she stepped outside that the storm was revealed in all of its glory. Snow covered the gabled roofs of the main building like a cozy blanket. Even the cobbled walkway in front of her had patches of white spread across its length.

Ochako hurried inside, bouncing around the thin layers of ice.

Winter had always been lukewarm at the southern village she called her hometown. On the off chance there was snow, it was sprinkled on the rooftops for a day at best before it would eventually melt. This was something new and fascinating, and she really wanted someone to share the experience with. Her options were limited though. Most of the squires and knights had returned home after the winter solstice. It was just a trip down the hill, after all.

Except…

Her gloved hand muffled her knocking a bit, but no other sound came from behind the door anyway. Ochako took a deep breath and rapped the wood again. His window still had a light on when she crossed the wall. A loud thud made her pause. The door was yanked open and Katsuki appeared wearing his boots and his nightshirt messily tucked inside his trousers. Red bleary eyes tried to focus on her form as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. Ochako noticed it spiked in several more directions than usual.

"What do you want?" he grumbled.

Hearing the low rumble of his voice, Ochako willed her knees to stay straight. There was no time to lose her composure. She had to catch his attention as soon as possible.

"I challenge you!" she said with her most authoritative tone. "Meet me at the courtyard before the next bell. And please put something warm on."

Before Katsuki could voice any objections, Ochako dashed away. She had imagined their first conversation after the Yule celebration a lot differently. Still, a ploy like this had been her best bet to finally get something out of him. Katsuki's pride was legendary to the point he wouldn't back down from anything—except talking to her for the last two days. But the one thing Ochako had learned since she arrived in the Capital was that sometimes you have to play dirty to win.

The night had laid out its dark veil over the castle grounds, casting obscure shadows on the courtyard. Ochako had crouched inside a pocket of moonlight. Cold nipped on her exposed face; each breath flowing like a frozen river into her throat. Despite that, she continued the task at hand with a joyful tune.

Soft crunching footsteps approached her until another shadow joined hers on the ground.

"So what do you think?" she asked, waving at her creation with a smile.

Katsuki adjusted his scarf, his nose featuring the same tone of red. "That's the ugliest snowman I've ever seen."

"It's not that bad!"

Truth be told, the snowman's body sprouted solid from the ground like the nightmare tree of fairytales. Ochako had placed splinters from a nearby torch as hands too. The pebbles for eyes and mouth were the final touch to its angry demeanor.

"It looks ready to cut-throat anyone that gets near it," he said.

He sneaked a hand behind his back for his trusty knives, no doubt. As per usual, Katsuki came prepared for anything and everything. It was no brainer, considering Ochako had left her declaration kind of vague. The scabbard of his sword was missing though.

"It's just snow." She placed some straw on the snowman's head. "Look! It kinda looks like you now, don't you think?"

"You brought me outside for this?"

"Don't be rude. I didn't think you go to bed as soon as the sun sets."

Katsuki scoffed. "That's what normal people do."

"People that don't get the night shift you mean."

"I'm not going to ask again, Uraraka. What do you want?"

Ochako reached behind the snowman for the pre-prepared snowball stash. "To spend some time with you is all."

The snowball whistled in the air and crashed right onto Katsuki's face with a thump. He had managed to shut his eyes on time. But as snow trickled down like pieces of pie, Ochako could help it and burst out laughing. Still, she wasn't naïve. Grabbing more snowballs from the pile, she ran off.

"That's how you wanna go, huh?" Katsuki shouted. "Come back here you sneaky weasel! You're getting murdered tonight!"

What followed was the most intense snowball fight Ochako had experienced in the fifteen years of her life. Frozen projectiles whizzed from one side of the courtyard to the other like arrows. Most of the icicles hanging from nearby windowsills didn't survive the process. Katsuki had applied into this the same mentality he used in all of his fights—take no prisoners. His shots always went for the most vital body parts, namely the head and knees, with deadly accuracy.

On the other hand, Ochako didn't manage to land another shot again. At some point, she even began to wonder if that first one had been a fluke. The thought of Katsuki letting anyone hit him on his own volition was ridiculous at best. But she managed to get her revenge the moment Katsuki lost her from his sight. He stood in front of the portico-lined outer hallway, scanning his surroundings. No doubt wondering where she had disappeared to. Ochako stifled a snicker as she scouted around the nearest supporting column. With deadly precision, she pulled at his scarf and sent a handful of snow down his back. Katsuki's screech was priceless. Jumping on the ground, she put a great distance between them.

"That's cheating!" he roared. "You were out of bounds."

"We didn't set any bounds or rules," she said. "Everything is fair in love and war!"

"Stop running and I'll show you how fair it is!"

They chased each other around for a while longer. The clock's ninth bell found them hunching over, exhausted and soaked from head to toe.

"I… win…" Katsuki's shoulders heaved as he panted, a milky cloud escaping his mouth with each breath.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." Ochako brushed off the snow caught up in her hair. "It might end up true."

"You have a death wish today or what?"

Her laugh echoed joyfully in the calmness of the night. "I'd prefer to live a bit longer, thank you," she said, pushing her head back.

The moon was so bright. It washed out the sky to the point no stars were visible anymore. Ochako opened her arms as if she was ready to take off with the slightest gust of wind. Instead, she dropped backward. She had been shin-deep into the snow but the ground turned out a lot closer. Her shoulders hit on it at the same time her head did. The impact rattled her brain; pain rippling from the back to the front in waves. Because of the monotone tune in her ears, she didn't hear Katsuki approaching this time.

He leaned over her with a pinch of concern on his face. "What do you think you're doing?"

Ochako tested her limbs by moving them up and down, tracing shapes on the snow. "I'm a starfish."

"You're an idiot that will get sick. Get up." He offered his hand.

Grabbing him by the elbow in the regular Knight-greeting way, she returned back on her feet. As he was letting go though, Katsuki stopped at her wrist and observed her gloved hand from all angles.

"Do you feel anything?"

She freed her hand, cradling it close to her chest. Her fingers had become numb at this point and it hurt to curl them. "I'm fine. Why're you asking?"

"These are simple leather gloves," he said deadpan. "Good for show but not for this kind of weather."

Ochako had always been blunt about her intentions for enlisting. It surprised her when her fellow squires showed nothing but unconditional support for this decision. However, at this moment, it felt like something which shouldn't be meddled with. That didn't stop her from spilling her guts anyway.

"I sent most of my salary to my parents so by the time it got cold, I didn't have much to spend. The shoemaker in town gave me some leather at a good price so I made them myself. It's not that big of a deal."

"Give me your hands," he said.

"Eh?"

"You have to take care of them or you won't hold a sword again in your life. Just give them, okay?"

Instead of grabbing them, he waited patiently for her initiative. She offered them—not without some reservation though. His palms enveloped her own like they were meant to fit perfectly there. The same way they had fit on her waist during Yule. Ochako couldn't forget that night. The music and the crowd had faded while they slow-danced like there was no one else in the room.

After all these months of training together, Ochako thought she understood him better. Her first impression of him—aloof and courteous—changed very quickly when Katsuki revealed his brash personality. His snarky comments had only sharpened her blade and resolve to prove him wrong. Although their first fight during training had resulted in Ochako's loss, something changed again. Not in her though. Maybe she had been amazed by his splendid technique but she still didn't like him as a person. Until he showed up during her private practice and backhandedly admitted how close she had been into beating him. It was the first of many such meetings. As time went by, Ochako even started reconsidering her opinion enough to give him another chance.

The thought of them together crossed Ochako's mind. With both being knights-in-training, their standing was equal. It wouldn't bother anyone if something more came to bloom. Even Katsuki, himself, mostly bragged about his abilities than his family's status. Word went around though, and her soul couldn't stop wondering if it was meant to be something temporary after all.

"What are you doing here?" she asked out of the blue.

He scoffed. "Saving your daft ass from frostbite."

She shook her head. "I mean, why become a knight? Your family is a branch of the Dragons, right? You already have servants to do your bidding and guards to protect you. So why would you go through this sort of training, willingly?"

Katsuki stared back with an unreadable expression for a couple heartbeats. "My folks aren't that important. They have an estate inside the wall and maybe a handful of servants at best." A cynical smile spread across his face. "When I'm done with my service, they want me to go back and run things. Can you imagine that?"

"No." She chuckled. "Okay, maybe a little. You already have the shouting orders part down."

"Maybe. But doing that while sitting on a porch with a mug of ale? Nah… The quiet life of a lord isn't for me. That much I know."

"Then what?"

"I'm going to become a King."

Katsuki stated this declaration in the same tone one might talk about the weather. Ochako searched in his features for a hint that he was pulling her leg. When she found none, her jaw dropped slack.

"Seriously?"

"Huh? Of course!"

"Do you even have a right to the throne?"

"No," he admitted. "That's why I'm going to get stronger than that bastard. When I beat him in combat, he won't have any other choice but give me the crown and the kingdom."

She couldn't help the giggles shaking her whole. "I can't believe I just had a snowball fight with our future ruler. Excuse me, your Highness. That. Was. Childish. Of. Me."

"What's so amusing? Think I can't make it?"

There were many words Ochako associated with him. Regal usually wasn't one of them. As the silver glow of the moon spilled over his form though, Katsuki radiated authority, power, and a wild drive to make his dream a reality. Under all that, there was warmth too. So far she had gotten only glimpses of it but Ochako was willing to let it consume her whole.

"I didn't say that." Then as an afterthought, she added. "When you become the King, will you let me serve as your Knight?" Her heart struggled to leap out of her chest, drowning every other sound around her. "I mean, you obviously won't need someone. Your strength will be clear as day to everyone but ya know. Kings have to deal with finances and lots of other things than the battlefield. After de-throwing the previous ruler, some might conspire against you too. So it might help to have trusty subjects look after your back."

The silence dropped on her shoulders like deadweight. Ochako had crossed every line possible. If anyone heard them talking, they'd be hanged for treason. Their families or more precisely her parents could be killed too. This was no laughing matter to talk so casually about.

"I…" Katsuki said. "I won't stop you if that's what you want."

She looked up from their joined hands, her cheeks so warm she didn't feel the cold anymore. "For real?"

He broke eye-contact, coughing in his scarf. "It's going to be a tournament anyway. I'll only accept the strongest people in my court," he said. "The competition will be tough."

"You think I can't make it?" she joked.

The moment he grinned was when Ochako received the answer she had been looking for all along. "Nah. I don't want to have to pretend I'm sorry for the other guys."

[royalrhaposdy]

Of Course I Care [ Brian May ]

Word count: 1.2k+

Request: Heyy, i only wanted to tell you that i love te way you write, it’s so cooooool. I was just wondering, could you do a Brian x Reader roommate au? iluuuu

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

_________________________________________

Your morning was already off to a rough start, you had woken up late, with no time for breakfast and now you couldn’t find your bag that had paperwork that had to be submitted today. You were running around the flat desperately trying to locate your missing bag. In the meantime, your roommate, Brian, was just watching you with a big smirk plastered on his face.

Realization hit you, you must have left your bag lying around. One thing you have learned after living with Brian was he really hated it when you left your belongings just lying around, “Brian, where did you put my bag?”

“Y/N, if you would put stuff away, you’d know where it is.”, you groaned, you knew he was just trying to teach you a lesson normally you would’ve just apologized but you were getting later by the second.

“Please Bri, I’m already late,” you were getting ready to beg when Brian just let out a big sigh and said, “It’s in the closet where it belongs.” You rushed to the closet, pulled your bag out, and rushed out the door.

You and Brian had met in college and had almost instantaneously felt comfortable with him. It didn’t take long for you two to become best friends. He would invite you to come to Smile’s gigs and you would invite him to your art exhibitions; you were each other's biggest fans. Once the both of you graduated you decided to find an apartment together. It’s been about three years since you moved in with Brian and it was still one of the best decisions you’ve ever made; he was the perfect roommate and the perfect best friend.

Eight long hours later you finally returned home from work. You opened the door to find Brian sitting on the couch strumming his guitar, he looked up at you when you entered the room. “How was work?”,he asked.

“It was fine, my boss didn’t even seem to notice that I was late, thank god.” You sat in the chair across from him and put your feet up, it was good to be home.

He nodded and began strumming his guitar again. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, you closed your eyes and listened to the first few chords of Keep Yourself Alive, when all of a sudden he spoke up and asked, “Hey Y/N, are you doing anything tonight?”

“No, I’m not, why?”every time Brian invited you to anything it was always fun.

“Queen was invited to play at the club downtown, do you wanna come?”

“I’d love to! What time?” you were hoping you’d have a few more minutes to relax before you had to start getting ready.

“Umm, I think it starts at 10, but I have to leave at 9.” you glanced over at the clock on the wall, it was somehow already 8:00, you’d definitely have to start getting ready now.

You quickly pushed yourself up off the chair and gave Brian a pat on the shoulder as you made your way towards your room. “Good luck tonight, I know you guys will kill it like always.”

He smiled up at you, “If you get there before the show come backstage, I’ll give security your name.”

“Okay thanks, Bri, I’ll see you there.”

After taking a shower, drying and styling your air, applying makeup and choosing an outfit you were finally ready to go.

You grabbed your car keys and checked the time, it was only 9:15, you were delighted that you still had time to wish the guys good luck before their set.

Fifteen minutes later you pulled up to the club and made your way in, you noticed that the crowds seem to be tripling in size every time you go to see Queen perform. You made your way past security and to the boys’ dressing room. You knocked on the door it was quickly opened up by a very hyper looking Roger. “Hey Rog, how are you?” you quickly found yourself wrapped in a hug.

“I’m great love,” he said as he gestured for you to come in. You gave the same greeting to all of the boys before settling into the seat beside Brian. “The crowd out there is huge, congrats guys!”

Freddie was beaming at your comment, “It’s all thanks to the release of our album, darling.” You sat around chatting to the band until a man came into the dressing room to give the guys a 5-minute warning.

“Well guys, I guess that’s my cue to go find a place to watch from. Go kill it.”

As you left the room and made your way to the stage you noticed that the room was even more packed than before. Luckily you were able to find a good spot to watch the boys from.

As always you enjoyed every minute of their set, it never ceases to amaze you how easily they connected with the crowd. Once the set was over you made your way backstage to congratulate the boys on a great set. As you made your way into the dressing room you couldn’t help but blurt out, “You guys absolutely killed it, they loved you!” The smiles on the boys' faces told you that they already knew how well they did.

“Thanks, Y/N, hey the boys and I were offered free drinks you wanna stay?” as much as Brian’s offer was tempting, you were absolutely exhausted and had a ton of paperwork to finish.

“Thanks for the offer guys but I think I’m going to go home, don’t get too drunk now.” The boys couldn’t help but laugh at your comment. You said your goodbyes and headed home.

You were used to Brian staying out late partying with the boys since Queen really got popular every Friday night Brian would be out until 3 in the morning partying with the boys.

You had even developed a routine, Brian was a creature of habit he would always be home by 3am like clockwork. He would never come home super drunk but you always like to be there to help him just in case.  

When you arrived home, you got ready for bed and set your alarm on your phone for 2:30am and then went to bed.

2:30 came way quicker then you had hoped it would, you got up and sat on the couch to wait for Brian. However, 3 am came and went but Brian hadn’t come home yet, you began to panic this wasn’t like him at all.

You were all of a sudden woken up to the sound of a kettle boiling, you must have somehow fallen asleep on the couch last night.

You drowsily walked into your kitchen to find a tried looking Brian making tea, you so relieved to see he was okay but your temper began to boil at the sight of him.  “Why the hell didn’t you come home! I was so worried about you!” your sudden outburst caused Brian to jump.

“Jeez Y/N, it's fine I got too drunk so I decided to sleep in my car, calm down.”

“Calm down?! I was worried sick. God your such a twat sometimes.”

Brian began to laugh and walked closer to you, “Aweeee, does someone care about me?” you couldn’t help but let out a little laugh the goofy smile of his always got you.

“Of course I care about you. You’re my best friend.” he pulled you into a tight hug before whispering in your ear, “Are you still mad at me?”

You shook your head and smiled up at him, “No but you better not do that ever again.”

[thenightisland]

you know the drill:

this is becoming like its own series but idk how else to explain this awful year i don’t even feeling like properly linking so here’s just the URLs of the other ones in the series: 1. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/161087786689/explanationsupdates-under-the-cutmore-i 2. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/161920216354/additional-updatesexplanations-under-the-cut 3. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/163767959805/updates-under-the-cutmore-post-one-post-two-on 4. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/164398486219/on-the-fourth-edition-of-what-the-fuck-is

one of the assessors got jumped a while back. she was just walking past a pt in the main assessment dept and he jumped up, punched her in the back of the head, took her to the ground and beat the fuck out of her. she was out for weeks and weeks and had broken facial bones. i can’t believe she didn’t quit.

our nurse executive quit though. not like, went prn or gave two weeks notice, like just straight up was like I’M DONE and walked out which honestly is the closest i’ve ever come to respecting him.

while having more psychologically unstable pts isn’t new, having more medically unstable pts has been a problem lately. like our crash cart is not like a medical hospital’s crash cart it’s like. an ambu bag some iv supplies and a stethoscope no lifesaving medications. when a pt has a medical issue we send them out to a medical hospital because obv we don’t have the resources to treat complex medical issues where we work. which didn’t used to be an issue because you’d used to see maybe two medical codes a year on my unit. we’ve had /ten/ since my last update post /just on my shift/. two of which weren’t even “pt is going downhill fast” codes they were “pt has no heartbeat and isn’t breathing” like we had to fucking bring two people back from the goddamn dead /within ten minutes of each other/. we’re all like we’re psych nurses man if we wanted to do this shit we’d work er. [and the er we’re required to send these pts to is awful like they sent us back a guy who had almost died twice in three days who had an /untreated brain tumor/ bc obv he’s totally fine]. or we’ve been doing mash unit style medicine like the suicidal kid with partial thickness burns all over his chest and neck that literally no one was doing anything about. we were debriding burns with a mixture of different PO IM and SQ drugs to achieve the same effect as IV morphine because debriding is extremely painful but not doing it will just make things worse and no one else seemed to care so we just fucking did it. like we’ve done so much medical nursing lately. like the one with the uncontrolled severe seizures that led to the medical hospital labeling her first break schizophrenia despite no family history of mental illness but /five different medical issues that all cause psychosis/. or the one they let on the unit despite being on the do not readmit who has untreated hiv that he actively tries to give to other people and /active tuberculosis/. or the one with the aneurysm. or the one with severe CHF. and on and on and on. and remember: we’re not the most medically unstable unit in the hospital because we have a 40 bed /geriatric psych unit/ so you can imagine the kind of pts /they’re/ getting. on the plus side, all of our ten odd codes lived.

my personal life is still a goddamn mess, of course, but that’s a given. don’t even know where to begin with all that. and i can’t talk about a lot of it which makes it that much more fun.

i had an entire crisis about the odyssey [which tbh is still kind of going on even after /weeks/] because i’m getting so cagey in memphis because i fucking hate this town. and i just got back from new orleans which is the closest thing i have to an ithaca at the moment and it killed me to come back to this fucking city.

i’m also really paranoid right now because after i come back from vacations, something terrible always happens and i’m not exaggerating it’s like clockwork to the point that the bad things have all happened between friday and sunday after i’ve returned from my vacation, each time, without fail. well that would be this weekend so i am just waiting to see what great horrors await me this goddamn time. [last time, it was the whole coworker killed in vehicular homicide thing]. but i guess paranoia isn’t the right word. you’re only paranoid if you’re wrong, and my life has already set the precedent. so i guess anxious is the better word.

the anxiety is increased given that my mother has been out of work all week because they’ve had trouble regulating her blood sugar and so she’s been really sick and even said so herself she’ll probably end up in the er over the weekend because she doesn’t think she can make it till her next doc appt because she’s miserable, and she’s already been in the er once when this weird shit started happening a month or so ago so the Vacation Curse has me even more concerned than usual, which is saying something. 

there’s a new psych doc working now and everyone is really unsettled by him and we’re pretty sure he’s a genuine psychopath like completely without exaggeration and he’s already done a lot of really creepy things to/with staff members and one nurse said in passing “i’ve known a lot of doctors like him he’ll end up fucking a pt at some point” which we initially left to hyperbole but he’s been doing shit like transporting female pts to other units without the staff’s consent in his own car which is like all kinds of not allowed, and the way he talks to some of the staff is just downright rapey honestly. and so we had a rough case this summer who, through the combined efforts of my squad, we got her from a diagnosis of intellectual disability with schizophrenia, nonverbal, self harming all the time, history of physical and sexual abuse, constantly in restraints and on a 1:1 obs level to a new diagnosis of autism spec with ptsd because her “hallucinations” were /flashbacks/ and she ended up very social and verbose and like fucking read william blake for fun and had a great sense of humor and was off all special observations and had a transfer to another facility pending so she could get more 1:1 long term therapy, and the creepy doctor was covering her case while her actual doc was out of town and he rode all the way to the other hospital with her which is another thing you do not do, and we found out from a coworker that she is now a /2:1/ [two staff members within arm’s reach 24/7], self harming again, in full shutdown/meltdown mode, and nonverbal. and it was such a rapid deterioration that all of us lost sleep over the possibility that this creepy doctor might have done something because even after she was at the other hospital and therefore no longer our pt, /he kept going to see her/. which fucked us up a lot because we were the ones who worked so hard for so long with her. like even the thought of it.

recently had 25th birthday so naturally had a crisis about that because i’d always said my goal was to be out of memphis by 25 and yet here we are. 

another of our fave pts, esp one of /my/ fave pts, died out of literally nowhere. the day before my birthday. so that was great.

also felt really surreal to see the news about the convictions in the holly bobo case, which i found out about when one of my coworkers was reading the news on his phone during a lull one night i forgot that to him and everyone else it’s a national news story [hell it even has its own wikpedia page] but to me it’s just /holly/ because she was /in the class above me in our nursing program/. my first semester in college i remember seeing her face on missing posters on every building on campus. so it was really a weird moment of dissociation for me. glad the motherfucker was found guilty on all charges, obv. 

the tech of mine who got his skull slammed into the floor, the one who’s been out with what can only be called severe psychological trauma, is supposed to be coming back the third week in october. which i just. i mean i’m glad because he’s one of our best guys, but i’m also like /why the fuck would he come back/ because he could be a fucking english professor again. motherfucker spent part of his youth growing up in italy and montreal, lived on the west coast for years, /was/ a college professor, did time as a script doctor in LA, and was a fucking thriller novelist who just gone girled himself for whatever reason and ended up working with us. there’s literally a reddit thread asking if anyone knows what happened to him and i want to be like don’t worry it’s fine he works with me. but so we’re like why would you come back to this place after what happened to you when you have so many other options available to you????? what are you running from that makes you so desperate to keep centering your life around a locked acute psych ward???? why did you gone girl yourself to begin with??? like he was screwed up enough there for a while that he wasn’t even answering his calls or texts and our boss had to send the police to do welfare checks on him because he lives alone so it’s like man why not go back to the life you had before and /get away from all of this/ it’s not like my situation where i’d rather be living a different life but have never done so, he already has the foundation because he’s already lived a different life he has an in that i don’t have and i can’t for the life of me figure out why he thinks working as an acute pysch tech is the better option. 

but i mean. we /do/ call our unit the hotel california for a reason.

[dawnowar]

Oh, its menopause.

Okay so like I’ve been nursing a broken rib for the last 6 or so weeks and it takes about 6 weeks to heal so I’m about healed now. The beginning part was painful af but its the 3x i’ve had this injury so I know to just remain upright as much as possible, because thats when it hurts least, and since it was Christmas I mostly hung out at bars and drank a lot to dull the pain because I hate pain pills and I never went to the Dr anyway for it cause they dont do anything anyway. I bet they dont even give you real pain pills for that anymore either. 

So i got bronchitis somewhere in the middle which sucked a lot because it felt like it was healing till i started coughing so I had to suffer through that. Mostly on cough medicine which puts me to sleep and sleeping in the bed hurts my rib so that was just more suffering. 

But eventually i got back to work with some pain and some coughing leftover. If i sleep on my right side, the pain/coughing is worse in the morning so when I woke up, went to work, drank a cup of coffee the other day and started coughing up gunk and feeling really hot and sick and like I might pass out. Thought maybe I have pneumonia or something from my broken rib/bronchitis. Maybe I’m DYING... so I took off some layers and thought about checking my new health insurance for the nearest urgent care but i a few minutes i cooled down and I was fine.

Was that a hot flash? Is that what hot flashes are like? Sure im 50, almost 51 now, but my periods are regular like clockwork and always have been. 

I dont know what i thought they were like. I guess I thought you turn red and sweaty and you take off your sweater and fan yourself cause that’s all I’ve ever seen. Like i just thought you feel warm I guess. I didn’t expect you feel sick and I didnt expect you’d suspect you’d have pneumonia. And I didn’t know your periods could still be regular when you get them and i didn’t know they have triggers and I didn’t know i just did two of the things on the list of triggers before I got this hot flash. 

I googled it and learned so much stuff I never knew. 

and then i realized it not only wasn’t my first one, but i’m having them at night on the regular. Night sweats they call it. I have them every night for awhile now. I just thought, because i get cold before bed, that i dress too warmly and use too many blankets. I have an electric blanket and i go to bed in more clothes than i wear in real life plus regular blankets too. I can’t sleep if im cold and I’m always cold when I go to bed.. if anything I’m having cold flashes... 

Wait......is that a thing?

So i google it and it’s not only totally a menopause thing but the descriptions and accounts I’m reading are exactly me. And I’ve been having cold flashes for a really long time. Maybe thats just what I’m like but i always get really cold before bed, but last few months I’ve been getting really cold when I’m tired even sometimes when its not bedtime or when I shouldn’t normally be tired. I’ve been taking it as a sign that I need to sleep. 

I had no idea it was a sign of Menopause.

in fact when i look at the list of perimenopause symptoms I have a HUGE number of them. In the last few months its gotten worse. but its winter and I’ve been drunk with a broken rib and/or on cold medicines with bronchitis and i just really attributed so much of it to these abnormal conditions which will pass when I’m healthy again.

So here I am. I’ve mostly stopped coughing and the pain in my side is still there but i can do most stuff again without hurting myself. And I still wake up in the middle of the night hot..... I thought I was waking up hot because i go to bed cold with so much clothes and blankets on. So halfway through the night, every night, i wake up sweaty, take off all my clothes and fall asleep on top of the blanket while the cat bitches cause I jostled him doing all this. and after awhile i cool back down and wake up again and get under one blanket to sleep till morning.

Had no idea that’s “Night Sweats” and thats a menopause thing.

I went out drinking w an old bf last summer and I guess i did this at his house. I woke up in the middle of the night and I was so sick but it didn’t feel like you get sick from drinking too much. I went to the bathroom and I couldn’t throw up even though I tried... I felt awful and I took off all my clothes and laid down on the cold bathroom floor for awhile... I was overheated and same thing, once I cooled down I was fine again. Turns out drinking is a trigger for hot flashes. I didn’t know that either. He was like.. what was that about? and I had no answer. I just felt like I was dying for a minute and then i didnt die and i was ok. 

I’ve had this experience when I’ve fallen asleep w the electric blanket on before, which is why i always preheat the bed and turn it off now, but now im doing it nightly without the heat on. 

I found a podcast.. two women talking about their menopause and everything they’re saying is so familiar .. the one that gets hot flashes even said she thought maybe she was getting sick or maybe its cause they had no air conditioning, etc. I always thought I’d know i was having hot flashes if i was having hot flashes. 

Well anyway, I’m in the early stages of perimenopause now. Which still gives me 3-5 years (i keep reading 1-10 years too) before my period starts to stop for real and then i guess they don’t even count it as menopause until after its stopped for a year so who knows how long I’ll be like this for. 

I don’t have all the symptoms. Thankfully just the ones that I’m already managing best i can mostly. And none of the sexual ones not that that’s any of your business. And regular periods which is what made this all so confusing for me. I thought that was the first sign, when your periods change. But I guess not. 

I’ve been saying I need to figure out how to be old people now. By that I mean the stereotypes of old people aren’t gonna work for me so there’s no already designated way to be to fall into for me. I’m gonna have to carve out my own path. 

I’m not sure I need to do a lot of things very differently but then there’s a big part of me that has been wanting to make some changes. Theres a lot of me that has been making big changes for over a year now. Something about hitting 50 around the same time Charlottesville went down made me reevaluate a lot of my friendships with a lot of people who took what I think is a very wrong position on a lot of issues that I feel are central to who i am as a person and it’s made me really have to take a long hard look at what matters to me and what doesn’t.

That was 50.

I’m about to turn 51 now and most of what i did in my 50th year was clean house. Jettison the people and things in my life that didn’t make me happy. Like that Netflix lady that makes you clean your house. If it doesnt spark joy, throw it out. 

Taking this mentality towards my “friends” has been liberating since I’d apparently accumulated a lot of relationships that were more obligations than actual good relationships with people who care about me. 

It was both hard and rewarding even though I find myself a lot more isolated now. But i did this something like 15 yrs ago and I traded up. Every “friend” I lost, i replaced with someone better. I hope this goes like that too. I’m a very social person and I think I tend to collect people... and sometimes you really do have to go through them and decide who to keep and who not to. 

So here I am with my fluctuating hormones making me too hot or too cold, despite what the thermostat says, thinking I’m 51 now and 51 is going to be about figuring out how to be old people now.

First thing I gotta figure out is menopause. 

[adultingrpg-blog]

ALI has been accepted as CLAUDE CHAMBERS. **This is just a sample application.

OUT OF CHARACTER.

NAME: Ali. AGE: 23. TELL US SOMETHING ABOUT YOU: I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. TIMEZONE: EST. ACTIVITY LEVEL: 6-7/10. I have really bad service and internet where I work but I can be on throughout the day, and then once I’m home from work. PRONOUNS: She/her. SHIPS: /chem. ANTI-SHIPS: /forced.

IN CHARACTER.

DESIRED CHARACTER: Claude Lee Chambers.  SONG: We Don’t Talk Anymore - Charlie Puth ft. Selena Gomez. NICKNAMES: Lo, CC, Chams. HOMETOWN: Laval, Quebec, Canada.  FAMILY DETAILS: Original character. FACECLAIM: Matthew Daddario. DATE OF BIRTH/AGE: December 27th, 1993 / 24. GENDER IDENTITY/PRONOUNS: Cis-male, he/him/his. SEXUAL/ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Bisexual demi-biromantic.  OCCUPATION/EDUCATION: Works at the University of Chicago in the English department, and helps out his friend with marketing/working at his new bakery. He also sells his artwork if he feels like it’s good enough, or if he needs money. APARTMENT CHOICE: Grand Court.

A LITTLE MORE.

Except for once when he was twelve, Claude has never spoken to his father. Oliver has made several attempts at connecting with him, but Claude refuses each time.

When he was nineteen, Claude legally changed his surname from Daniels to Chambers after his mother married Morgan.

Claude moved from Laval to Chicago to be with Asher, but the city became his new home. Asher understood that which is why he left instead of asking Claude to.

THREE NEGATIVE TRAITS: Meddlesome, obstinate, imprudent.

THREE POSITIVE TRAITS: Magnanimous, candid, stoical. 

NETWORKING.

@CHAMCHAMS: i swear im not actually 5??? i just like plugging my ears & saying “i can’t hear you” on the rare occasion????

@CHAMCHAMS: someone buy this for me [photo]

TEXT TO [SISTER]: will you pick me up

LAST 4 EMOJIS: 🤷 🔥 🙄 ✋

BACKSTORY.

** TRIGGER WARNINGS: TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, ABUSE. **

Claude Chambers was born into a family that ended almost as soon as it started. Born out of wedlock to a pair of seventeen year old Catholics, it’s safe to say that Claude wasn’t exactly planned. It was after a bit too much alcohol one night and a drunken decision that Eleanor James found herself pregnant. She took test after test, went to a clinic… and all came back with the same positive result. While her family wasn’t pleased, they were somewhat understanding. Claude’s father, Oliver, was happy as can be, though. He proposed that day, and they were married three weeks later. For almost a year, Oliver and Eleanor were happy. They went shopping for baby stuff, he tagged along to every single appointment and worked two jobs to help support Eleanor and the baby all on his own. But then Claude was born, and the shock that Oliver was in seemed to slowly dissipate. Issues started to pop up here and there. The shower in their run-down apartment leaked, they were dirt broke, there was mold in the carpet in the living room… And then there was the bigger things that couldn’t be overlooked and ended up being the tipping point. Oliver was sick working two jobs and swore up and down that Claude wasn’t his. Disagreements then led to fights and turned violent fast. After the first punch, Eleanor packed up her stuff and her son, and left Denver for Laval.

They settled there only a week later. Eleanor contacted her aunt and asked if she could stay there and watch Claude. It was about two years and ten jobs later that the two left and settled on their own, and only four years after that did Eleanor meet Morgan and fall in love. Morgan, of course, had no clue that Eleanor was in love with her for another three years, and it was then that they finally moved in together with all three children. Two of them Morgan’s and then Claude. They were a family and a better one at that. Everything seemed to fit into place then. Claude was nearing eleven at the time and he can still remember how amazing it felt to finally feel like he belonged somewhere. The house they lived in, the love between Morgan and Eleanor, his new siblings… it felt right.

So life was good. Claude had his family, was passing all of his classes and his friends were all pretty good to him. He had a strong support system that he knew would get him through it all. And then he met Asher, and everything seemed to change.

After his friends talked him into it for almost a week, Claude ended up at a house party. At just sixteen, he wasn’t expecting what he saw. He always assumed it was kegs, bubbles, glitter and pop music. What he found instead was shitty vodka, some beer, indie music and a bunch of people basically having sex in the same room. That’s where he met Asher. It started off as something heated. Claude was instantly attracted to Asher and Asher to him. They traded numbers and agreed to a no-strings hookup whenever and wherever. But after a year, they were sleeping with one another exclusively. It was then that they agreed to see if there was chemistry outside of the sex.

Things were fine at first, but then there were small disagreements, and those small things led to fights, which led to break-ups and Claude sleeping in his car. It wasn’t until months of the recurring behavior that Claude was going to leave Asher. He didn’t want to be in a relationship like his mother and father were in. He didn’t want the fighting or the secret hatred, and he didn’t want it to end the same way. But then after a particularly bad fight, Asher admitted to have been seeing another guy he met at a bar a few weeks ago, and that it was looking pretty serious despite not knowing him that long. That broke Claude’s heart.

Claude all but begged Asher to stay with him even after everything in him was saying the complete opposite just the night before. To Claude’s delight, Asher agreed. But everything changed. Their once somewhat dysfunctional relationship turned toxic. The love Claude once felt had changed into something more sad and desperate. He didn’t want to lose his boyfriend, especially not after fighting the way he did. There were too many nights spent on his knees crying–begging and pleading his boyfriend to stay with him; choose him. And the tears that were shed in the bathroom when Asher went to bed…falling freely every single night like clockwork. He couldn’t let go, even when all the mean things Asher ever said to him played like a constant loop through it all… He wasn’t good enough for anyone else. No one wanted him. He wasn’t that smart, anyway. No one would love Claude the way that Asher did. The words stuck without him ever realizing it. They formed doubts and regrets in his mind making it hard for Claude to leave.

They broke up once a month it seemed. Whenever they made it to an anniversary, Claude would realize that they had broken up one or two weeks earlier for a few days, only for him to go back apologizing for something he didn’t do. It wasn’t all on Asher, either. Claude would say things during arguments that had Asher running away with tears in his eyes. They were never on the same page to begin with, anyway. Claude had always wanted more whereas Asher made it clear from day one that he wasn’t in it for the long run.

It eventually ended when Claude was twenty-two. After going out with some coworkers on his birthday, Claude arrived to their shared apartment to find Asher’s stuff gone. He had packed all his stuff up during the day and vanished with just a note on the fridge: We aren’t good for one another. There were several things that should have been the tip-off for Claude before that point. It wasn’t the fighting because he knew fighting was unavoidable. No, it should have been the absence of talking it through. That’s when he realized he wasn’t fine. That his life wasn’t fine.

It never really hit Claude, not really. He knew he wasn’t fine, sure, but not to what extent. He went on with his life as if nothing ever really happened. The only obvious difference was the people in his life–having cut them down to those that either didn’t like Asher or didn’t know him. There’s always that voice in his head on replay that says “you should’ve been better”, but the alcohol seems to help make that go away. He’s seeing a therapist at his mother’s insistence because she spoke so highly of it throughout her own therapy, especially now that Claude has learned the news of Asher’s upcoming wedding. There was a lot of alcohol after he heard that. 

Despite it all, Claude’s got a decent life. He’s happy….or he’s getting there, at least. He’s trying to figure everything out in the meantime. Claude was under the impression before the break-up that he’d end up going into English or Business, and even has a degree to pursue it, but he no longer wants to go down that route. In the meantime, he’s working as basically a barista for his friend’s bakery, and helps him with all the marketing and business. He also sells some of his art when he needs to, and works at the University of Chicago in the English department. 

[adultingrpg-blog]

《 THE BASICS 》

CHARACTER NAME: Claude Lee Chambers. 

NICKNAMES: Lo, CC, Chams. 

AGE/DOB: 24 / December 27th, 1993.

FAMILY DETAILS: Original character.

HOMETOWN: Laval, Quebec, Canada. 

IDENTIFIES AS: Cis-male, he/him/his.

ORIENTATIONS: Bisexual demi-biromantic.

SHIPPING: /chem, /forced.

FACECLAIM: Matthew Daddario.

OUT OF CHARACTER: Ali, 23, EST, she/her. 

SONG CHOICE: We Don’t Talk Anymore - Charlie Puth ft. Selena Gomez.

APARTMENT: Grand Court / Apartment 20.

CURRENTLY: Works at the University of Chicago in the English department, and helps out his friend with marketing/working at his new bakery. He also sells his artwork if he feels like it’s good enough, or if he needs money. 

《 A LITTLE MORE 》

Except for once when he was twelve, Claude has never spoken to his father. Oliver has made several attempts at connecting with him, but Claude refuses each time. 

When he was nineteen, Claude legally changed his surname from Daniels to Chambers after his mother married Morgan. 

Claude moved from Laval to Chicago to be with Asher, but the city became his new home. Asher understood that which is why he left instead of asking Claude to. 

《 NETWORKING 》

@chamchams: i swear im not actually 5??? i just like plugging my ears & saying “i can’t hear you” on the rare occasion???? 

@chamchams: someone buy this for me [photo]

text to [sister]: will you pick me up

last 4 emojis: 🤷 🔥 🙄 ✋

《 PERSONALITY 》

POSITIVE TRAITS: Magnanimous, candid, stoical.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Meddlesome, obstinate, imprudent.

《 A LITTLE DEEPER 》

** TRIGGER WARNINGS: TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, ABUSE. **

Claude Chambers was born into a family that ended almost as soon as it started. Born out of wedlock to a pair of seventeen year old Catholics, it’s safe to say that Claude wasn’t exactly planned. It was after a bit too much alcohol one night and a drunken decision that Eleanor James found herself pregnant. She took test after test, went to a clinic… and all came back with the same positive result. While her family wasn’t pleased, they were somewhat understanding. Claude’s father, Oliver, was happy as can be, though. He proposed that day, and they were married three weeks later. For almost a year, Oliver and Eleanor were happy. They went shopping for baby stuff, he tagged along to every single appointment and worked two jobs to help support Eleanor and the baby all on his own. But then Claude was born, and the shock that Oliver was in seemed to slowly dissipate. Issues started to pop up here and there. The shower in their run-down apartment leaked, they were dirt broke, there was mold in the carpet in the living room… And then there was the bigger things that couldn’t be overlooked and ended up being the tipping point. Oliver was sick working two jobs and swore up and down that Claude wasn’t his. Disagreements then led to fights and turned violent fast. After the first punch, Eleanor packed up her stuff and her son, and left Denver for Laval.

They settled there only a week later. Eleanor contacted her aunt and asked if she could stay there and watch Claude. It was about two years and ten jobs later that the two left and settled on their own, and only four years after that did Eleanor meet Morgan and fall in love. Morgan, of course, had no clue that Eleanor was in love with her for another three years, and it was then that they finally moved in together with all three children. Two of them Morgan’s and then Claude. They were a family and a better one at that. Everything seemed to fit into place then. Claude was nearing eleven at the time and he can still remember how amazing it felt to finally feel like he belonged somewhere. The house they lived in, the love between Morgan and Eleanor, his new siblings… it felt right.

So life was good. Claude had his family, was passing all of his classes and his friends were all pretty good to him. He had a strong support system that he knew would get him through it all. And then he met Asher, and everything seemed to change.

After his friends talked him into it for almost a week, Claude ended up at a house party. At just sixteen, he wasn’t expecting what he saw. He always assumed it was kegs, bubbles, glitter and pop music. What he found instead was shitty vodka, some beer, indie music and a bunch of people basically having sex in the same room. That’s where he met Asher. It started off as something heated. Claude was instantly attracted to Asher and Asher to him. They traded numbers and agreed to a no-strings hookup whenever and wherever. But after a year, they were sleeping with one another exclusively. It was then that they agreed to see if there was chemistry outside of the sex.

Things were fine at first, but then there were small disagreements, and those small things led to fights, which led to break-ups and Claude sleeping in his car. It wasn’t until months of the recurring behavior that Claude was going to leave Asher. He didn’t want to be in a relationship like his mother and father were in. He didn’t want the fighting or the secret hatred, and he didn’t want it to end the same way. But then after a particularly bad fight, Asher admitted to have been seeing another guy he met at a bar a few weeks ago, and that it was looking pretty serious despite not knowing him that long. That broke Claude’s heart.

Claude all but begged Asher to stay with him even after everything in him was saying the complete opposite just the night before. To Claude’s delight, Asher agreed. But everything changed. Their once somewhat dysfunctional relationship turned toxic. The love Claude once felt had changed into something more sad and desperate. He didn’t want to lose his boyfriend, especially not after fighting the way he did. There were too many nights spent on his knees crying–begging and pleading his boyfriend to stay with him; choose him. And the tears that were shed in the bathroom when Asher went to bed…falling freely every single night like clockwork. He couldn’t let go, even when all the mean things Asher ever said to him played like a constant loop through it all… He wasn’t good enough for anyone else. No one wanted him. He wasn’t that smart, anyway. No one would love Claude the way that Asher did. The words stuck without him ever realizing it. They formed doubts and regrets in his mind making it hard for Claude to leave.

They broke up once a month it seemed. Whenever they made it to an anniversary, Claude would realize that they had broken up one or two weeks earlier for a few days, only for him to go back apologizing for something he didn’t do. It wasn’t all on Asher, either. Claude would say things during arguments that had Asher running away with tears in his eyes. They were never on the same page to begin with, anyway. Claude had always wanted more whereas Asher made it clear from day one that he wasn’t in it for the long run.

It eventually ended when Claude was twenty-two. After going out with some coworkers on his birthday, Claude arrived to their shared apartment to find Asher’s stuff gone. He had packed all his stuff up during the day and vanished with just a note on the fridge: We aren’t good for one another. There were several things that should have been the tip-off for Claude before that point. It wasn’t the fighting because he knew fighting was unavoidable. No, it should have been the absence of talking it through. That’s when he realized he wasn’t fine. That his life wasn’t fine.

It never really hit Claude, not really. He knew he wasn’t fine, sure, but not to what extent. He went on with his life as if nothing ever really happened. The only obvious difference was the people in his life–having cut them down to those that either didn’t like Asher or didn’t know him. There’s always that voice in his head on replay that says “you should’ve been better”, but the alcohol seems to help make that go away. He’s seeing a therapist at his mother’s insistence because she spoke so highly of it throughout her own therapy, especially now that Claude has learned the news of Asher’s upcoming wedding. There was a lot of alcohol after he heard that. 

Despite it all, Claude’s got a decent life. He’s happy....or he’s getting there, at least. He’s trying to figure everything out in the meantime. Claude was under the impression before the break-up that he’d end up going into English or Business, and even has a degree to pursue it, but he no longer wants to go down that route. In the meantime, he’s working as basically a barista for his friend’s bakery, and helps him with all the marketing and business. He also sells some of his art when he needs to, and works at the University of Chicago in the English department.