#gonna go to my doctor and see if she has any referrals and if not go through my insurance since I only have less than a year till 26

[fatcowboys]

my PA for ajovy got denied (booo) but the reason it did was bc a neurologist needed to prescribe it which i already had an apt set up for and gad yesterday (yay!) and the appointment went really well and i like the provider a LOT of migraine management (YAY!!!) so now i am once again waiting for an ajovy PA to be approved lmao

[xcziel]

.

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Health Update, for those who might notice or care!

So, here's my consequences for needing healthcare and trying to get it:

A humiliating phone appointment, wherein I did at least manage to plead successfully for an in-person appointment, and an assurance that the pharmacy should give me the generic patches that hurt less if I ask for them, and I didn't need to involve the doctor.

A week's worth of anxiety and research and note taking.

A hour and fifteen wait in a hot waiting room and exam room (AC was broken).

An anxiety attack stemming from clueless statements reflecting just how little the doctor knew or cared about the available medications and how they might help me.

Driving, paying for parking, and getting locked in a garage due to the long wait time.

A prescription for "more estrogen" that turned out to be WAY LESS estrogen.

More phone calls, research and anxiety to confirm the above.

More pain!

A brief callback that did not acknowledge any error and stated I could go back to my old prescription if I didn't like the new one.

When pressed that the entire point of this exercise was more estrogen and that I wasn't getting it, another callback with a demand to contact the other doctor she referred me to instead.

And a referral to (it turns out!) a doctor whose office does not answer the phone, has a full voicemail box, and isn't accepting email from new patients.

And the cherry on top: There's a shortage of generic patches and I will have to refill my prescription with the brand name ones that hurt more.

No apologies. All of this is MY problem.

This has been an utter cul-de-sac. 100% punishment, no reward! This is still more help than I was getting in the States, but I'm starting to suspect that, on this matter at least, it's just down to having more energy and irritability 'cos I'm getting better treatment for my thyroid. If I had a little less to give right now, I'd just give right the fuck up.

I am not attached to this assigned gender, and I'm not attached to these gendered pieces of myself. If I didn't get crazy scar tissue and pain from surgeries in the past, I would go out and trade my tits for hugs RIGHT NOW. I have no idea what the undercarriage needs to stop hurting, but I don't care what it looks like and I'd do whatever works. It's just, I don't think I should NEED to do that. There are plenty of options on the table that don't require thousands of dollars and general anesthesia and scar tissue, but they're being gatekept away from me. "A woman" couldn't possibly need anything beyond the most basic interventions, no matter what!

I think, unless I break through to this other doctor somehow, my options are: Beg for a referral to a gender clinic, or Beg the endocrinologist to handle all my hormones. I don't know why he's been so reluctant to do that. I know other people whose endocrinologists handle everything. Maybe he just assumed I'd prefer a lady-doctor for lady-things and he'll adjust if I tell him that's not the case. But I don't know. I'm gonna hafta find out, but I don't know.

All this is taking place while the spouse is dealing with this insane extra workload for the CPA exam too. I'm getting seriously concerned for what this is gonna do to HIS health. And I have an eye appointment on Saturday where I'm going to have to explain: "IT DOESN'T MATTER IF MY VISION IS 20/20 SOMETIMES, MY STAMINA IS SHIT AND I'M LEARNING TO KEEP READING AND DRAWING WITH DOUBLE VISION AND BLURRED LINES! I DIDN'T NEED TO PAY YOU THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS TO HAVE THAT - I ALREADY HAD THAT FOR FREE!"

I don't know how much I'm going to be able to keep pushing on this for the near future. I wanted to write more and fix the website and put more things in the store too. *sigh* Sorry, my few readers, if you should see this. I got a lot goin on.

[cakesexuality]

8 months Lupron, 1 month add-back

I've discovered that I'm now slowly growing a very small amount of dark facial hair that isn't super visible but I'm p sure it wasn't there before, and I mean if you're hoping to do testosterone later on or if you're using testosterone as your add-back then this is probably a desirable effect for you, but I'm using estrogen and progesterone as my add-back for a reason lol

(I didn't know this was something that could happen!! Bc it turns out that it's not about your testosterone on its own but your testosterone in proportion to your estrogen and my testosterone has hardly budged while my estrogen has gone way down, and I'm still working on how I feel about this but it might be helpful info for someone else)

I don't think my body shape has changed at all, since I feel like my fat has redistributed since starting Lupron, and I know for a fact that my bra size hasn't changed either, but it can take a few months to begin to see those sorts of changes with estrogen

Progesterone helps with my digestive issues but the two days on, two days off with Jencycla is causing some :^) flip-flopping of symptoms and I need to talk to my gynecologist about that, like if I could do every-other day to help even it out, although this is preferable to when I was on Depo and it would wear off after a couple months and things would get worse for weeks on end instead of only for like... half a day

Ever since my 2nd shot (my 1st 3-month shot that I got in October), my site (left arm) keeps getting a lil bit sore on and off when it shouldn't be even though that's never happened to me with stuff like Depo-Provera and flu shots and even my COVID shots stopped hurting after the first few days, and I had pain go down my arm when she did my most recent injection (April) which also has never happened to me before when getting any sort of injection, but I have muscle and nerve issues in my arms due to scoliosis so I think I'm gonna ask if we can try a different site like my thigh next time (July) so we can see if it's actually from the Lupron or if it's only from my shoulders being fucked up (or even if my body is just angry at me for always using the same site!!)

(I think I had mentioned that my arm kept getting sore in a previous update?? But I'd been spending a lot of time at a friend's house around that time where the way I sit on his couch puts weird pressure on my site so I thought it was from me being stupid and sitting wrong, but I haven't been to his house in a few months now and it still happens so it's probably not actually that)

I said last time that we weren't sure if I would transition to doing my shots at home bc I don't have the pain that I did when my Depo would wear off, but bc I've been having to go to so many appointments for other things, doing my shots at home might help take stuff off my plate

I still haven't had a consult with the anesthesiologist to talk about laparoscopy bc I haven't heard from anyone, I don't know who the doctor is so I can't reach out directly, and I called my gynecologist's office last week to ask if they knew what was up with the referral so I could maybe get my consult booked, since my gynecologist was hoping to have the surgery done before my next injection, but the receptionist doesn't know who the anesthesiologist is either, so she was gonna talk to the gynecologist and get back to me

[onlyherefortheshowmances]

1 week from today is my last day in the apt. I’ll put the whole description of the situation below a read more if you haven’t heard about this yet.

Please continue to share and donate as you can.  

eB@y Listings (more to come): https://ebay.com/usr/dandyc60 

GFM: https://gofund.me/978fb41c 

V$nmo: @.clbrown91 

I also have Chime, so moots if you do, too and wanna transfer that way, DM me.

Hi, I'm Cassie. I'm 32, and I have a laundry list of mental and physical disabilities that have made it impossible for me to work any longer (since September 15, 2022). I have undergone a lot of testing and am still working out with some providers exactly what is causing all of my symptoms. Most notably I am switching PCPs for the 2nd time in a month (but at least I’m just switching back to where I should’ve just stayed at the office my mom still goes to and a doctor I know from when I went there as a teen/young adult) and rheumatologists for the second time in 3 months (because the one I actually liked left the practice). I also need to see dermatology, but the soonest new patient appointment at any location in their network (that takes my insurance) when I called them in December 2022, was in SEPTEMBER 2023, so that’s gonna be awhile.

I managed to escape January and February's rent at my current apartment thanks to the donations I received on this fundraising page. However, there was a hearing on April 4 before the local judge for my eviction due to non-payment of rent. I was able to explain to the judge and rep from my rental agency (who went to school with my mom; small town) what was going on, and the judge agreed (as did the rental agency) to what’s called a pay and stay. I had 10 days (until April 14) to pay them all the back-owed money and then could just keep paying every month. Of course that did not happen and earlier this week a notice was taped to my door that I will be forcefully evicted May 1 at 12:01 am if all back owed rent and and their legal fees (which I don't plan to do at this point because it’s just a game.)

Going forward, my plan is to obtain a larger vehicle that it would be more possible to live out of (a van or or larger SUV). If anyone local (Central PA) has any leads on somewhere or someone that might have a relatively inexpensive minivan or cargo van-type vehicle available, please let me know. As I, unfortunately, totaled my car last Wednesday (April 19) coming home from Urgent Care no less, I no longer have that trade value to rely on even. So I need to come up with at least $3k to just buy an old but operational van and ideally as soon as possible so I can start figuring out what I can keep with me, what will go to storage, and what I can sell or donate or throw away.

The county in which I reside doesn't have any emergency shelter resources where I'd be welcome as a queer, single, disabled, atheist. The only shelter in the county is run by a religious organization, and they require you to attend and actively participate in religious services to stay there. There are a few smaller organizations, but they are all for very specific populations (single mothers, domestic violence survivors, recovering addicts, etc.) or already have years-long waiting lists (including getting a section 8 voucher which isn't even accepting applications and hasn't been for over a decade because there are that many people on their waiting list). The local LGBTQIA+ organize does have housing grants, but they require you to have proof of at least some income to get them. My therapist is trying to get me into the county behavioral health case management program which may open some other doors, but it is not guaranteed. She sent the referral almost 3 weeks ago and I have heard nothing since; I know they’re already overworked, so I was probably just too complex of a case to add to someone’s work load.

List of my disabilities (I am more than happy to field questions regarding these and how they affect my ability to work, etc. via email, twitter, tumblr ask box, etc.):

Rheumatoid Arthritis (for which I am on immune-suppressing medications that have side effects including chronic fatigue and increased susceptibility to all illness - including the one I have right now which only immune-suppressed people ever get)

Fibromyalgia (for which I have adverse reactions to the first 3 of 4 medications on the market. l am titrating up on the 4th and final medication on the market and crossing my fingers at this point. I am in Physical Therapy two times per week; was three for many months to help with stability and strengthening).

Osteoarthritis (in almost all of my major joints; knees, hips, elbows, shoulders, as well as throughout my spine). My right knee has given me problems all my life (for a reason I don’t really want to get into today); I tore my labrum in my right shoulder in June 2018 and had it repaired surgically on December 21, 2018. When I went in for my follow up first thing was ‘You’re allergic to adhesives. That should NOT be that red or itchy.” Oops. Second thing he said was “Had to check your wrist band after I got a look inside your shoulder (cause the surgery is done face down) to make sure I had the right patient. The inside of your shoulder looks like you’re in your eighties.” I was not even 28 at the time.

Hypermobility Syndrome (which causes instability and proclivity to injury; it also means that the ways I’ve learned to sit that a comfortable to me are probably absolutely wild for anyone else. My PT caught me sitting in a chair with the soles of my shoes together and the outside of my feet against the floor and looked at me like I was insane. I also dislocate joints without realizing it on occasion.) - it's probably actually hEDS but the closest doctor that'll test and adult for that is 90 minutes away.

PCOS (I’m not on Metformin ER to help control this, though I haven’t seen many changes yet. I am under the care of an endocrinologist for this).

ADHD (for which I am medicated with a stimulant - the one that’s been making the nation’s neurodivergent population rage because it’s been on back order for a year)

Various Attachment and Trauma-Based mental health disorders including cPTSD and clinical anxiety. I also believe I am autistic and am about to have an evaluation with the local center for autism and developmental delays as the neuro-psychological evaluation I had at the end of that year was a waste of time and gas money, but that’s another story for another day).

Recurrent Occipital Neuralgia (which causes headaches and difficulty moving my head/neck)

Chronic Migraine (at least 2 or 3 per month; I have Imitrex, but it can only do so much).

Severe seasonal allergies (especially to tree pollen). Like severe enough they had to put intermittent asthma in my chart to get a rescue inhaler approved cause they get that bad.

I am also excessively nearsighted (with astigmatism) to the point where my ophthalmologist has warned me that my retinas are so thin they could detach at pretty much any second.

Even with the new plan going forward, I will still need to pay for phone service (which will like increase so I can use the mobile hotspot feature) as well as car insurance the new vehicle. I hope to be able to afford a campsite at a local campground with electric access for at least part of the summer. If I do not have that option, I would at least like to purchase a small rechargeable (preferably solar charging) generator to have electricity available without killing my car battery every night. I will also continue to need gas money to get to and from appointments and the pharmacy and such and money to purchase necessities not eligible for food stamps (i.e., toilet paper, paper towels, etc.).

More about me for anyone that doesn’t know:

I'm a gray-aro/ace cis-female. Much closer to ace and aro than not.

I'm single (see above) and have no children (nor any interest in ever having any for a variety of reasons; I’m going to ask my OBGYN next time I see her if she can at least take my ovaries out so the PCOS will stop, because the Endocrinologist refused that option).

I don't have pets because my apartment doesn't allow them, but I would love to eventually obtain a service dog (mobility and anxiety/PTSD cross-trained, preferably) and/or have cats. I think if I get a van and get it set up properly, I will probably get a kitten in June. My cousin’s cat just had a litter the other week.

I don't currently use any mobility aids, but my bad days are starting to make it obvious that I will need to in the nearer future than I would like. I got a handicap parking placard just recently which is the first real step in that direction.

I enjoy cooking and baking, but it is becoming increasingly difficult to complete such tasks due to pain. And will be impossible living in a van, though if I get a camp sight I want to get one of those single burner propane camp stoves. I also plan to try to have a mini fridge and microwave in the van itself.

I write fanfiction (which you probably knew if you know me).

I went to college for three years, but I don't have a degree. I was a social work major, and the major classes weren't at all transferable and I could not get through field placement junior year. I've considered going back to school, but at this point, I'm not sure what good it would do, and money would be the ultimate factor.

[mental-health-advice]

Hey my friend.

I'm a single woman in my mid twenties living with my family in S country where mental health is not considered important. I've tried getting help many a times but it didn't helped much.

I'm a introvert by nature. I don't have friends. Not able to fit myself in societal norms. Lost my best friend and my sister a year ago. She was the only one who understand me. After her death i was devastated. Not focusing on my career, family n further life. For coping i start to follow celebrity activities. From last 9-10 months watching every interview of them again n again, obsessing over them, reading wattpad, active on twitter, religiously Staning that artist. Feel sad when their song doesn't perform well or some other famous celebrity say something bad about them. That was not me. I regret everyday I behave like this. But this is the only thing make me feel something other then hurting myself. If I don't do do that celebrity worship and try to distract myself only thoughts came to my mind is to hurt myself.

Also I'm doubting my sexuality too n nobody is gonna accept me with that in my country.

I know I'm not able to express my feelings well but I'm trying so hard. Please help.

Hey there,

Firstly, you need to try to give yourself some more credit as I feel as though you were able to express yourself quite well in your Ask that you sent us.

I am so sorry to hear that you lost both your sister and best friend. It’s never easy when you lose someone no matter under what circumstances and especially if you don’t have anyone else like friends or family you are close to that you can count on/ depend on when things get really bad and you are just really needing to talk to someone.

Whilst I don’t feel as there is anything wrong with obsessing over certain celebrities and following them on social media, I can understand why you don’t like this aspect of yourself or the fact that you feel like you have to do this behaviour in order to not hurt yourself. Have you checked out some of our pages on our website? We do have some helpful pages like on a list of distractions that you could give a go when the need to want to hurt yourself arises. We also have pages on alternatives to hurting yourself and reasons not to. I encourage you to check them out if/ when you have the time to.

It can be so hard if where you live isn’t really supportive or knows much about mental health. It’s great that you have tried to reach out for help though in the past, I am just sorry that it didn’t work out so well for you. That must have been really frustrating to go out of your way to get help only to not being able to get it in the end. Have you tried to see your local doctor or GP to try to get a referral to see a counsellor or a therapist? There are also some helplines and web counselling services you can give a try too if you haven’t already! We also have a page on getting help which may be helpful to give a read.

I really hope that this has helped a bit and please do let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

I’m thinking of you and hope that you are going well!

Take care,

Lauren

[lastoneout]

big tw for talking about disordered eating, medical procedures/problems, mental health issues, and pet health/death below

hahaha I am about to fucking light myself on fire

so like for the last two years my doctors have been trying to get me to lose weight because apparently the only thing that will fix my idiopathic cranial hypertension is weight loss OR a spinal shunt, which they also keep acting like a shunt is like some sort of life-ruining medical procedure that I absolutely do not want to undergo so that's fun and not giving me severe anxiety

but like losing weight is NOT going well bcs it turns out I have a LOT of trauma from growing up severely food insecure and trying to restrict my food intake any further than I already do legit triggers my ptsd and makes me freak out which is GREAT

though it's a fun paradox because it makes me freak out in a way where I just stop eating, like them constantly saying I'm "overweight" makes me want to stop eating forever, like just thinking too hard about it makes me shut down and not eat all day until my fiance makes me and I have no idea how to process any of that (like I'm not kidding just seeing the word "overweight" on my referral is making me want to die)

and I keep trying to eat healthier but that's not going well bcs I'm disabled and I have adhd so I already only eat two meals a day if that, like I legit only started reliably eating breakfast six months ago or so, and I can't just Not Eat so the food I make needs to be easy and that means like freezer waffles and uncrustables and frozen dinners and ramen and boxed macaroni and shit right stuff they keep telling me NOT to eat

and also this year we've been pretty poor due to my fiance losing his job so like I CANNOT afford healthy food sometimes like it is just frozen dinners or nothing

which is also frusterating bcs my neurologist and primary doctor's only suggestion for how to lose weight is not eating like I'm not kidding my neurologist just told me to skip lunch and my primary suggested intermitent fasting which like!! I ALREADY DON'T EAT THREE MEALS A DAY AND THAT'S NOT WORKING SO???

and like I know there is nothing wrong with being fat or having any body size at all, but I'm only like 150lbs which is apparently, according to every doctor I've seen, way lower than the threshold when this is supposed to become a problem, like they KEEP saying "we just don't see this problem in people your size" and it just makes me want to scream bcs then ofc they're like "but you should lose weight" cuz like you can't have it both ways fucker!! it's either a weight problem or it isn't!!

and on top of all of this not only did one of my dogs die, my other one's health has basically degraded to the point where he's gonna have to go too and like WOW try managing all that fucking nightmare shit while also trying to manage all of my health problems and lose weight it's fucking hard okay

and ALSO we are legit only just getting my sleep schedule under control bcs I just Don't Sleep and have nightmares constantly when I do, and the only thing I had that helped was my dog because she was a german shepherd and for the last 10 years every time I've been anxious at night I just think about how she would protect me or at least let me know if something was wrong but she's gone now and my other dog is deaf and basically blind and has severe dementia so he can't protect me

and all of that anxiety stems from trauma from an attempted break in that happened like 10 years ago when I was home alone with nothing but my dogs to protect me so like, they were my safety blanket and now one's dead and I just can't fucking deal with it and I know once my other dog is gone I'm just going to be having debilitating anxiety every single time I try to sleep so yay

so like yeah try losing weight when you're basically falling apart at the seams due to all of these fucking problems (and I don't have a scale in my house because I know it would be unhealthy and make me lose my mind so I can't be sure but I'm pretty confident that I've actually gained weight recently which is making me feel SO MUCH WORSE)

anyway the final breaking point is apparently that my insurance doesn't cover a nutritionist, so if I want to go to one, which with all of this trauma and adhd and shit I should probably go to someone who can at least help me figure out how to eat, so if I want to go I have to pay $75 for the consultation and then $50 for every follow up appointment and I just do not have that kind of money with my fiance's new job paying less and having to cover all of these medical expenses for my pets(bcs we just had to deal with a serious infection my cat had and that shit was not cheap lemme tell you) but like I NEED to go see this doctor

idk man sure makes me want to curl up and fucking die

(also I've tried to go to a new neurologist but every doctor that could refer me to one has told me that's basically impossible and refused to help so yeah guess I'll just go die then)

[youremyonlyhope]

If we hired you to fill a gap on a popular day with a couple of other days of work, and then you cut your own availability on that popularly day during your first week so we had to shift some plans, and then cut that entire day out of your availability so we now have to move students we already assigned to you... do you think that makes a good first impression?

[yourmidnightlover]

all my fault

Request: spencer and y/n are married, and they’ve been trying to have kids, and then she finds out she’s pregnant. a few weeks into the pregnancy, she has a miscarriage, and at the hospital the doctor said it’s bc she had an abortion as a teenager, and it fucked up her it yet us. spencer didn’t know she had an abortion, and blames her for the death of the baby, and they end up sleeping separately for a while and they have to grieve by themselves. spencer ends up talking to emily about it bc of her experience and it has a comforting ending!

Summary: when reader has a miscarriage after trying to have a baby with spencer, and things about her past are revealed and leaves things rocky within their relationship.

CW: miscarriage, pregnancy, mention of abortion, spencer’s rly harsh at first, teenage pregnancy, mentions of surgery, a cervix condition that i kinda made up, depressive thoughts, negative self-worth, HAPPY ENDING. *please let me know if i’ve missed anything*

A/N: i’ve been working on coming up with a series, which i posted last thursday! i’m sorry i haven’t been as consistent with my schedule, this summer has really taken a toll on my mental health and school is about to start back up. i promise i’m not quitting writing, but my writing might become a bit more sporadic in terms of my posting schedule. i’m still not sure if i like how i’ve executed this piece, so please let me know what you think!

IMPORTANT A/N: this contains serious topics centered around pregnancy and abortion. reader end up blaming herself and it is a very triggering subject to some. if you aren’t comfortable with those kinds of depressive thoughts PLEASE DONT READ. i don’t want anyone to be triggered by my writing. your mental health matters. you matter. do not read if your sensitive to the subject matter, please!

———————————————————————

when you and spencer checked the third pregnancy test and saw those two, very clear lines on the stick, you felt an unbelievable amount of joy.

“oh my god,” you clamped your hand over your mouth, your eyes welling with tears.

“y/n…” he held his breath, holding your free hand with both of his own.

“you’re gonna be a dad,” you huffed out a laugh as his arms flew around you.

“and you’re gonna be a mom! we’re gonna have our own little family,” he cheered as he breathed in your scent, elated from the news he had hoped for since you said ‘i do.’

spencer had wanted to be a father since he met henry, you remember how attached he was to the child who wasn’t even his own. you hadn’t always wanted children, only when you were absolutely ready for them. now, you were more than ready.

your arms flew around spencer’s neck as his went around your waist. he dropped to his knees and began pressing kisses against a bump that wasn’t even visible yet, praising you and your body for carrying his child.

because it was so hard for you to get pregnant, spencer decided to baby you every chance he got. you didn’t do the dishes or sweep, you weren’t allowed to reach for high shelves or even step on a chair to do so. he was worried about you and the baby, so you let him. you found it endearing.

the perfect man that you married was so worried about the little bean inside of you, worried for your safety, that it drove him a bit mad. who were you to complain? each time he’d do one of the new little quirks like not letting you lift anything above 10 pounds, you just smiled to yourself and brushed it off.

being pregnant was something that you had lost hope for, in all honesty. spencer had been talking to a few friends who had adopted children prior to finding out you were pregnant. if this hadn’t worked out, the two of you were going to look into adoption.

spencer had planned your doctors appointment for 6 weeks after your last period. the appointment was in three days. and then the perfect outline you had for your future went down in crumbles.

you had been having pains in your lower abdomen, and you figured it was just because you were pregnant. you went to the bathroom like you normally would when you felt queasy, kneeling by the toilet in preparation for what was to come. only nothing came.

you decided to just go pee and get back to bed. there was a pain that wasn’t like you’d felt before when you were peeing, like someone had been pulling your intestines out of your body. when you looked down, you felt your stomach drop.

“spencer!” you cried out. “spencer, hurry!” you felt tears well in your eyes until he ran up beside you. his hand was on your thigh as the other one was trying to steady your shaking hand.

“what is… oh,” he looked in the toilet to see blood inside of it.

“spencer… what happened? i don’t know what happened. everything was doing so well and the baby-we just found out and now they’re-wh-what’s gonna happen?” you rambled out, unsure of how something this horrific happened so quickly.

“i-i don’t know, my love,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i don’t know. but we’ll go to the hospital right now, okay? we’ll get answers.”

you just nodded. you couldn’t speak anymore. you felt your throat closing in on yourself. you cleaned yourself up and got dressed. even looking in the mirror with spencer’s arms around you, you didn’t feel anything but guilt and worry.

spencer’s touch would usually be something to ease your mind and take away the thoughts of everything else around you. only this was something wrong inside of you. you were the problem this time. and you didn’t think anything could fix this feeling.

“let’s get to the hospital, yea?” you nodded as he held onto your hand, trying to ground you to himself as he guided you to the car.

you were silent the entire drive to the doctor. there was nothing to say. there was nothing to do. there was just… nothing. you were numb.

“hey,” he spoke up, “we don’t know what happened yet. there’s a chance it’s just a fluke, right? the baby might be okay.”

“what’re the statistics, spencer? tell them to me,” you ordered as tears flowed from your eyes.

“y/n…”

“tell me! why don’t you want me to know?!” you accused him, looking over at the man driving as he but his lower lip. “1 in 4 women who experience bleeding during a pregnancy are fine. 25 percent. the other 75 percent of people have either a miscarriage or serious complications. those are the statistics.”

“y/n…” he sighed, “it’s not your fault. you didn’t want this to happen. besides, there’s still a 25 percent chance that nothings wrong.”

“whatever,” you rolled your eyes and opted to look out of the window for the remainder of the drive to the hospital.

-

“alright,” the doctor entered the room. “we have the results from the test and we’ve examined the ultrasound pictures. i’m so sorry, but you’ve had a miscarriage.”

what were you supposed to feel? an overwhelming sense of sorrow? like a failure? like the one thing you wanted most in the world fell through?

“how-how did this happen?” you spoke through the tears. “we were so-we were careful. i didn’t lift heavy objects, i didn’t do repetitive motions, i just… we tried so hard to make this work,” you shook your head in disapproval, as if you wouldn’t accept the answer that had already been proven to you.

“there’s proof of an abortion when you were a teenager. there was severe damage done to your cervix that wasn’t assessed pre-pregnancy. now, we can repair the damage within the next two months, but it will still be difficult to become pregnant after the surgery,” the female informed you.

“then what’s the point of getting the surgery?” you scoffed, looking at spencer who was just staring off in space.

“while getting pregnant will still be difficult, maintaining the pregnancy is much more likely. the fetus would be more protected and secure after the surgery,” she explained with a pitiful smile, you couldn’t help but wonder how she could smile after giving you the worst news of your life.

“right,” you nodded curtly, allowing her to sense the mood of the conversation.

“i’ll leave you two be. i’m so sorry for your loss,” she gave the both of you a pitiful smile before exiting the room, the only sound audible being the closing of the door.

it didn’t feel real. it felt as though you were in a nightmare. only this time, you wouldn’t wake in spencer’s comforting arms. you wouldn’t hear the soft soothing voice of the man you love trying to calm you down. you wouldn’t feel the solace he would provide by merely being himself in your proximity.

the drive home was eerily quiet. there was an inkling of animosity between you. looking over at spencer in the driver’s seat, he had a dead look on his face, the only sign of previous emotion being his red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. he didn’t even look like your spencer. he looked like a stranger in the drivers seat with a cold expression that you could barely read.

you knew this was something you should talk about. when the nurse came back in the room it was only to offer a few referrals go therapists that specialized in this kind of grief. clearly, any couple should talk about losing an unborn baby. but you knew that’s not what spencer was truly upset about.

you waited until you shut the door to your apartment before saying anything.

“maybe we should talk about it?” you whispered, not knowing how he’d react.

“about what? the fact that you’ve lied to me for our entire relationship?!” he wouldn’t even turn around to face you. “i thought we were in this together, y/n. we aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other - especially not any that just killed our child!”

“hey…” you winced at his words. “why would you say that?”

“that’s the truth! your choices when you were a teenager just killed our child! my child!” he finally turned to face you, and you wished he hadn’t.

“do you think i knew they would botch my abortion, spencer?! do you think that’s what i wanted?!” you stepped closer to him, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“i don’t know what you want anymore, y/n,” he shook his head, clearly exasperated.

“i want you. i want to get the surgery to fix my cervix. i want to grieve our child. i still want kids… with you, spencer,” you tried to ease the mood, calm him down. you reached your hand out to cup his cheek before he dodged your touch, afraid of touching you. “but you don’t want that?” you whispered so quiet, too afraid of the answer to raise your voice.

“i-“ he sighed and bit his lower lip. “i don’t know.”

“right. of course you don’t,” you shook your head before sitting on the couch, dropping your face in your hands.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed as he took off his coat.

“it means that: of course, you’re making this about you! it can’t be about us grieving our loss together like the doctor recommended?!” you peeked between your hands at the man you still didn’t recognize.

“maybe we shouldn’t grieve together since we can’t even have a conversation without getting angry at one another,” he tried to reason.

“the only reason i’m getting mad is because you’re blaming me for my baby’s death,” you spat back at the doctor before you.

“because it’s your fault!” he stood strong in his belief. “when you were a teenager, did you or did you not have an abortion?”

“i did,” you admitted.

“and the nurse said that in said abortion, they screwed your cervix up! if you didn’t have that abortion, our child would still be alive! we would be on our way to become happy parents!” he accused, rubbing salt in the already stinging wound. “it’s your fucking fault!”

“stop saying that,” you shook your head and dropped it back in your hands, trying to hide the tears that began to flow down your face.

“it is, y/n! i can’t believe you’re even trying to say this isn’t!” he chuckled, clearly getting under your skin.

“shut up, spencer!”

“i can’t, y/n!” he sat in the chair across from you before standing back up, too hyper to sit. “no wonder it was so hard for you to get pregnant.”

“spencer,” you begged him to stop, meeting his face with your teary eyes.

“y/n,” he stared you in the eyes, and you saw a glimpse of the man you loved for a second before he retreated to the bedroom.

you sat on the couch in confusion of what had just occurred.

when you were 15, you’re boyfriend was adamant about taking your relationship “to the next step.” you didn’t think you were ready to have sex, but you wanted him to stay with you. so, you gave in. it just so happened to be that you were one of the lucky girls that ends up getting pregnant her first time in spite of birth control and a condom. you couldn’t tell your mom about your pregnancy, she’d have your head on a pole.

so, you earned enough money from your job to get an abortion yourself. you went to a clinic and had your boyfriend’s mom come with you to sign as your guardian. was it smart to get an abortion that cheap? probably not. but you had no other choice. your mom had made it abundantly clear that if she caught you fooling around with him that she’d kick you out.

you were 15. you were young and still had to finish high school. there was no support system for you. you would’ve been on the streets with a little baby - not to mention the amount of debt you’d go into for just giving birth to a child in a hospital. it was the only choice.

and now you were being berated for making the only choice you even had - and by the person you loved most in the world.

you curled into yourself on the couch, laying your head on the arm and crying into the fabric. you released all of the tension and turmoil. you held onto the cushions as if it were the man that you wanted - no, needed to comfort you. because as much as you’d hate to admit it and try to fight those thoughts, part of you thought that spencer was right. it was your fault.

you fell asleep on the couch that night. you didn’t have the strength to get up to grab a blanket so you just sucked it up.

spencer didn’t sleep at all. he was used to having you curled into his chest, or himself on yours. he felt terrible about how he had talked to you, but he was too stubborn to admit anything just yet.

in the middle of the night he went out of the room to grab a glass of water. he saw you curled up in a ball, you head resting on the arm of the couch as you slept. it was the most peaceful you looked in the past 24 hours. but you began shivering as you slept. you were probably too exhausted to get up to do anything.

he went to the hall closet on a detour and grabbed your favorite, soft blanket and laid it on top of your body. after placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he went into the kitchen and made his glass of water before taking one more glance at you. you had snuggled into the blanket, pulling it up to your chin with a gentle smile that always appeared when he kissed your forehead as you slept.

maybe he didn’t screw up too badly, after all.

the next few days were spent avoiding one another. spencer couldn’t face you after knowing you had kept something so dire from him for the entirety of your relationship. you couldn’t face him after he made you feel as though it was your fault you lost your baby.

you would stay on the couch all day, barely eating or drinking anything while spencer would go out - only mentioning the library or the office to do more paperwork. eventually he just started sleeping at morgan’s house - probably because he couldn’t stand being around you.

you didn’t know how to grieve your baby, you were hoping that spencer might help, but that clearly won’t be happening. on top of that, you were worrying about your marriage. he couldn’t even look at you, how was he supposed to talk to you and sleep beside you?

a lot of times, it’s perceived that the only reason women were put on this planet were to have children - of course that’s a false notion, but it didn’t make it sting any less. your body had betrayed you. you had betrayed yourself.

it was only 12 days after spencer left when he came back home, if he could call it that anymore. once he walked into the living room, he saw you curled up in that same position on the couch. you had a blank stare that was directed towards the black tv. the only evidence that you were doing something was the empty water bottles surrounding you - certainly not enough considering he’d been gone for over a week.

when he entered you didn’t even flinch. your gaze stayed on the empty screen and your face remained vacant of any emotion.

in all honesty, morgan was the one to tell spencer he should check on you. spencer hadn’t told him everything about your argument, he knew he was in the wrong. but he was just so angry. regardless, he was here now, and it’s a good thing he was.

you hadn’t been taking care of yourself. spencer had morgan and savannah checking on him, but you had nobody. he only realized this when morgan pointed it out. and as upset as he was, spencer would always love you. your expressionless face only worried him more. your clothes had been changed from when he last saw you, but he doubts you’ve had a shower.

he stayed silent as he began picking up the empty water bottles from around the table and couch. you looked at him quizzically with furrowed brows.

“what’re you doing?” you asked, your chin already quivering as tears threatened to stream down your face.

“i’m trying to help,” he whispered as sensitively as he could, making eye contact with the most pitiful face you’d ever seen.

“i think you’ve helped enough,” you rolled your eyes before resuming your serious stare-down with the television. “you can leave.”

“no, i can’t,” he replied, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch while being sure not to touch you - he didn’t know if you were ready for that.

“you already did,” you brought to his attention, briefly looking at him. “just go.”

“y/n, i-“

“i don’t want to hear it! what’re you gonna say that could make me feel worse, spencer?!” you let the tears fall past your waterline. “i know it’s my fault. i know i screwed up! and i’m sorry! i’m so sorry!” you replied with far too much sincerity, the tears streaming down your face before he scooted closer to you, planning on wrapping his arms around you. “stop! don’t come near me!” you pushed his shoulders away. “it’s my fault,” you lowered your voice significantly before wrapping your arms around yourself.

he had called emily as soon as he got back into the bedroom. he knew she had previously had an abortion when she was a teenager, and he just needed to hear her side of it. part of him didn’t even expect her to pick up the phone.

“reid, what’s wrong?” she immediately answered.

“i-i think i need to talk to you,” he whispered in a hushed tone.

“right now?” she asked in a mildly concerned tone.

“if you can? the sooner the better,” he answered honestly.

“alright. you want to meet somewhere or just come over?”

“can i just come over? it’s really personal and i wasn’t sure who else to go to,” he began tying his shoes and hoping she’d agree.

“of course, come on over,” she replied in a worried voice.

“ok. i’ll be there in twenty.”

he quietly left the apartment, not before sparing you a regretful glance. he lost his child, but you also lost your child as well. he just couldn’t control his anger. and partially, he thought he was right.

how could you not have told him about something so serious? the second you had began having issues getting pregnant, maybe you should’ve been open about previous pregnancies.

“hey,” emily greeted before giving him a hug after seeing his teary eyes. “come inside.”

“thanks,” he sniffled before stepping into her apartment.

she guided him into her living room and sat down on the couch beside him. they sat there for a few silent minutes before he was able to work up enough courage.

“y/n was pregnant,” he whispered, barely audible if she weren’t right beside him.

“was,” she pointed out, already feeling as though she knew the rest of the story.

“she uhm-she miscarried two weeks ago,” he somberly admitted for the first time to someone else. “the doctor said it was because she had an abortion when she was a teenager that somehow ruined her cervix.”

“and that’s why you felt like you needed to talk to me?” she gathered, she was a great profiler for a reason but this was far more obvious.

“i was pretty harsh. i-i told her it was her fault,” he bit his lower lip as he grimaced. “i really rubbed it in, too.”

“spencer… “ she sighed, taking a deep breath before continuing. “you’re mourning a life, right now. obviously, that would raise tensions and emotions would be heightened. but… have you apologized? for telling her it was her fault?”

“no?” he replied after thinking about it. “i was going to do that today but she’s… she’s not in good shape. i’m not saying she needs to be perfect, but while i was at derek’s i can tell she didn’t take care of herself. she barely drank any water.”

“did you ask her why she had an abortion? why she didn’t tell you? did you ask her anything about how she’s feeling?” emily asked once more.

“no,” he cowered down, feeling even worse about the truthful answer. “i was just… selfish. i didn’t think about how she’s feeling. i just-i feel so bad now, seeing what state she’s in.”

“when i got an abortion it was because i wasn’t ready for a child,” she began to inform him. “i was a child, myself. how was a child supposed to take care of another one? my mother would’ve been disgraced. i basically had nobody there for me. i kept it a secret because having an abortion is so controversial. i knew people would look at me differently for making a responsible decision for my future.”

“god, i feel so bad,” he began to tear up himself. “i love her so much and i told her these horrible things.”

“make it right, spencer,” she gave him a supportive smile and pat his thigh before he stood up.

“i-i have to go,” he wiped the tears from his face before giving emily a hug, grateful she would listen to him at such an ungodly hour.

he quickly drove back home, where he decidedly belonged in the first place. he never should’ve left home. he never should’ve left you. you were his home, and he didn’t know how he could possibly lose sight of that.

“y/n,” he cooed as he entered the apartment once more. it was noticeably a bit more clean. the trash was taken out, the dishes were done, and your hair was wet from a shower - he assumed. “hey,” he smiled when he saw you sitting on the bed, cheeks still red and tear-stained with red, puffy eyes.

“hi,” you sighed as you brushed your hair, spencer sat down beside you.

“how’re you feeling?” you shrugged. “i need to apologize to you,” he admitted, placing a hand on your thigh. “i’m so, so sorry for what i said. telling you that it’s your fault that we lost our child… i-there’s no excuse. i was clearly upset, but so were you. what i said was so out of line, and i’ll never be able to express how sorry i am to you.”

“you’re right,” you shrugged. “it was my fault.”

“no,” he rubbed his thumb on your skin. “it was not your fault. i’m so sorry i made you believe that.”

“when i was 15 my boyfriend at the time pressured me to have sex. we used a condom and i was in birth control but i still-i still ended up pregnant,” you began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i couldn’t tell my mom because she would’ve kicked me out, so i saved up some money and had his mom take me to a cheap clinic. she signed as my mom and i got the procedure done. that was the end of it,” you finished tears streaming down your face. “a few weeks after the procedure i started having pains in like my lower back, but i didn’t think anything of it. so… it is my fault. i shouldn’t have gone to a cheap clinic, but i couldn’t live on the streets with a baby and no way to clothe or feed them.”

“y/n,” he got your attention, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “you were a teenager who had no other choice, love. it’s not your fault, it’s the clinic’s.”

“i just… it hurts so bad, spencer,” you shook your head in defeat before he wrapped his arms around you. “not even just emotionally, my body physically hurts so bad. i don’t know what to do and i thought i lost you and i didn’t know what i would do without you because i didn’t think you loved me anymore because it’s my fault,” you ranted out, sobbing into his shoulder before he moved the two of you around the bed to lay down, you on his chest.

“i’m so sorry you had to go through that, and that you’re still dealing with the repercussions,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “but know that i’m not leaving you. i love you and nothing will ever change that.”

“there’s nothing we can do now,” you whined, clutching to his shirt as if he’d disappear once more.

“we can go to the recommended therapy. we can get that surgery to fix your cervix,” he reminded you, rubbing circles onto your back as you sniffled. “then, if you’d like, we could try again for a baby.”

“so you still want to be with me?” you whispered by his ear, clearly worried of the answer.

“of course i do,” he said as if there were no other option; there wasn’t. “i’m so, so sorry, love.”

“the reason i didn’t tell you is because,” you sighed as you shuffled on top of spencer, now sitting on his lap and facing him. “because there’s this stigma that comes with having an abortion - and i didn’t know how you’d react. i also didn’t know it didn’t go well in the first place, but that’s a different story,” you chuckled. “i’m sorry. i should’ve told you about something so serious.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “that was from your past. this is our future, we shouldn’t get caught up on it and allow it to ruin this.”

you nodded, “you’re right. are-are you staying here, now? or are you going back to derek’s?” there was an obvious look of hope in your eye that spencer never planned on squashing.

“i’m staying here,” he smiled. “home. you’re my home.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you rolled your eyes as a laugh left your lips.

“i’ve missed your smile,” he pressed a kiss to those very lips, your smile not going away but growing even bigger.

“i’ve missed you,” you pointed at his chest. “please don’t leave again.”

“i won’t. ever again,” you held your pinky out, he smiled and wrapped his own around it. “i’m so sorry.”

“we’ll work at it,” you sighed. “we’ll build back the trust and fix my stupid cervix and then maybe try again for a baby.”

over the next few months spencer and you had been going to therapy once a week, mourning the loss of your baby and working through your other issues.

five months after you found out about the miscarriage, you had the surgery to fix your cervix.

one year after you fixed your cervix you and spencer began talking about having a child. you were extremely nervous, rightfully so. you voiced your concerns to spencer about what if the surgery didn’t work? what if your cervix wasn’t the only issue? and he replied by reminding you that you would both take this one step at a time.

seven months after having the conversation with spencer about having children, a miracle had caught up to you.

you were pregnant.

taglist:

@averyhotchner

@greenprisca

@muffin-cup

@spenxerslut

@spencerreid9

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@spencerreid9

@spencersmagic

@calm-and-doctor

@the-local-pendeja

@spencersrose

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@pastelbabygirl19

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[berriusagi]

Stomach Bug Ch1

Morning Sickness

idea from @beautiful-disasters-sunshine this is the first fanfic I’ve written in years. If it’s bad let me know I’m just trying my best since I like this idea. In this fic Mari and Dami are 17/18 and Hawkmoth has been defeated so there’s no fighting during this pregnancy. dialog heavy so sorry in advance.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The rare occurrence of a quiet and peaceful morning was always nice to have in a city like Gotham where despair and misfortune seemed to thrive. Occasions like this are often cherished but everyone knows to be wary as anything could ruin the moment, such as the retching and coughing coming from the bathroom that had two very concerned women and equally concerned miniature god standing outside the door.

“Marigold, are you okay?” Ivy asked gently knocking on the door wincing as she heard another painful retch from the other side of the door, “Darling open the door please.”

“I’m-” another broken cough was heard breaking the weak voice in the bathroom, “I’m… okay just some food poisoning I think.” 

“Mari sweetie you’ve been puking your guts out for a week.” Harley said leaning on the door frame, “I don’t think it’s just some food poisoning. You need to see a doctor.”

“You’re a doctor,” Marinette said, her sickness seeming to have finally come to an end as she flushed the toilet.

“I’m a psychiatrist hon there’s a big difference.” Harley said looking at Ivy concerned as the sound of running water filled the silence as Marinette brushed her teeth, “We’re taking you to see a doctor if this was just a stomach bug you’d have gotten better by now.”

“She’s right Marinette,” Tikki said, settling onto Ivy’s shoulder as they all watched the door, “It’ll make us all feel better if you just see the doctor.”

Silence filled the area as they all waited for Marinette to reply before a soft sigh was heard and the door clicked open revealing an exhausted young woman, “I don’t want to be a bother.” she mumbled averting her eyes from the two women before her.

Ivy let out a soft sigh moving forward and pulled her close to her chest gently running her fingers through her hair as Tikki floated down to press into Marinette's neck to give her some comfort, “You are and never will be a burden to us, Marigold. We care for you and want the best so please don’t think something as unavoidable as getting sick is a burden.”

“She’s right darling we love you and want you to be safe and healthy so please let us take you to a doctor that’s licensed in medicine,” Harley said, stepping over to hug her effectively squishing Marinette between Ivy and herself.

Marinette closed her eyes and just took a moment to sort through her thoughts and take in the warmth of the two women that adopted her. Her life had been just on the wrong side of crazy for so long, Hawkmoth terrorizing everyone for having emotions, her friends and family turning on her because of one liar determined to ruin her life, having to hide her relationship from not only her very perceptive mothers but her boyfriends equally perceptive and just a touch insane family. All of that and now being sick with something just to put the cherry on top of an already bad situation. “Okay,” she mumbled after a prolonged moment and turned to bury her face into Ivy’s chest and breathed deep taking in the subtle earthy and floral notes that clung to her, “I’ll see a doctor.”

“Thank you,” Ivy smiled gently, kissing the crown of her head, and looked over at Harley with a measured look, “go and get ready and we’ll head on over to the clinic,” she said as both women stepped back to allow her to head over to her room.

Once she was gone and out of earshot Harley leaned over and in a stage whisper said, “10 bucks says she’s pregnant.”

“I’d disagree if not for the fact she’s trying to hide her relationship with the Wayne brat.” Ivy chuckled, shaking her head, “Let's hope it is just a stomach bug and not a stomach bug .” she said giving Harley a look as they went to change into more civilian clothing so as not to draw attention to themselves. 

The three women made their way into a small clinic and got checked in taking a seat in the corner out of the way of others. Marinette was seated between the two nervous and practically sweating bullets as she gripped her sweater while her mind raced. A soft pressing on her thigh from Tikki gave her some ease as she stared down at her trembling hands. What if she was really sick and the financial cost would put her mothers in debt? What if she wasn’t sick and this was all a waste of time? What if they already think she’s being a burden and are waiting for her to get called in so they can leave her? What if-

“Miss. Isley-Quinzel?” A nurse called cutting through Marinette's internal struggle.

“Ah here!” she said jumping up her face beat red as she quickly made her way over to the nurse with her mothers following close behind.

“I’m sorry only one of you can come back.” The nurse said looking at the two women.

“I’ll stay this article was gettin good,” Harley said flopping back down into her seat and reopened the gossip rag she was reading. Ivy shook her head smiling and placed a comforting hand on Marinette’s shoulder and walked with her into the small room.

“So Miss what are you in for today?” the nurse asked closing the door so they could all have privacy and took a seat.

“I’ve been throwing up for the past week,” Marinette said taking a seat on the paper-lined table keeping her head down.

“Any other symptoms?” the nurse asked looking over the file in her hands, “fever, headaches, muscle pain?” they asked.

“No nothing like that… I have been getting more sick after eating, maybe I have food poisoning?” Marinette asked.

“Are you sick after eating every time or only certain foods?” the nurse asked.

“I’m not sure I haven’t paid much attention to what I eat that’s causing me to be sick,” she mumbled.

The nurse nodded making some notes, “well just to rule it out I’ll need you to take a pregnancy test.” they said, grabbing a little plastic cup and handing it to Marinette, “bathroom is just to the right of this room go fill this cup and we’ll see if we can get you some answers.” they smiled and opened the door to let Marinette out.

Marinette turned scarlet and then pale as she walked out of the room and went to the bathroom. Ivy watched her leave before pulling out her phone and sent a quick text to Harley, ‘Marigold is taking a pregnancy test. She looks terrified.’

‘I really think she’s pregnant. She’s been sick and she’s been turning away from some of her favorite foods.’ Harley shot back after a few moments.

Ivy nodded putting her phone away as Marinette came back and took her seat on the table once more. She seemed to be running through the worst possible scenarios as her face slowly morphed from a sickly pale to an even sicklier green as they waited for the nurse to return with the results. 

What felt like hours to Marinette was only a few minutes as a doctor came in smiling softly to Marinette and Ivy. “Hello, I’m Doctor Beau.” She smiled pulling a seat over and looked over the file given, “You came in for problems with nausea?”

“Yes, my daughter has been throwing up all week and we’re concerned,” Ivy said as it looked like Marinette wouldn’t be able to speak without being sick again.

“It is quite concerning and as you know we do have to rule out certain options before we can administer tests.” Dr. Beau nodded looking over the files once more, “The pregnancy test we had your daughter take came back positive.” she said gently trying to gauge the two women.

Marinette went stock still as tears began to well in her eyes clouding her vision as her world seemed to come crashing down around her. Ivy moved quickly to stand by Marinette wrapping her up in a hug and stroked her hair and back. “It’s okay Marigold,” she soothed, grabbing some tissues to clean her face, “It’s going to be okay just breathe.”

“I can’t tell you what to do Miss.” Dr. Beau said, gaining Marinette’s attention, “However, I can give you some pamphlets and a referral to a nice OB-GYN, they can help you make the choice best for you.” she smiled gently getting up and wrote a quick script before handing it to Ivy along with some pamphlets. 

Everything after seemed to happen in a blur. Marinette didn’t fully process anything until she was being seated on a soft couch and felt two bodies pressing firmly to either side of her. “Mari, sweetie, please talk to us.” Harley’s accented voice softly sounded from her left broke the dam on her emotions as she let out a broken sob.

“I’m- I’m sorry.” she cried curling in on herself as the two women quickly wrapped her up in a firm hug as Tikki pressed into her cheek all three talking over each other trying to soothe her.

“Marigold it happens.” Ivy said gently holding her face, “We’re not mad, disappointed, or upset with you.” she said wiping her face, “We are here to help you and support you in any decision you decide to make.”

“Do ya know who the daddy is?” Harley asked gently, rubbing her back trying to get her to settle down just a bit. Marinette took a shaky breath, her face blotchy and nose stuffy as she nodded her head, “Here’s what we’re gonna do okay hon. I’m goin to go make you some calming tea and you are goin to call your boyfriend and tell him to come over here. Okay?” she asked looking in Mari’s eyes.

Marinette nodded scrubbing her face with her sleeve as Tikki pulled her phone up for her to take.

~.~.~.~

On the other side of Gotham seated for breakfast and contemplating the benefits of mass homicide, Damian was eating his food as his family did their best to make him go off the deep end.

“I’m just saying!” Jason said munching on some bacon, “Maybe if he got laid he wouldn’t have a stick so far up his a-”

“That is enough Jason,” Bruce stated firmly as he rubbed his eyes exhaustion clearly written all over his face.

“You just don’t want to hear my reasoning,” Jason said flicking a piece of toast at him.

“No, I want to remain ignorant of my child's sex life. I already had to deal with Dick telling me everything I rather not hear your speculations.” He glared as the table fell silent for a few blissful moments as they all turned to look at a shameless Dick who just smiled and shrugged before a loud ringing cut through and all eyes turned to Damian as he pulled out his phone.

“Hello?” he asked his usual annoyance bleeding through before he seemed to pause as the other person on the line spoke, “What’s happening?” he asked as he quickly got to his feet, worry clear on his face as he rushed out of the room, “I’m coming habibti please stop crying.” was the last thing the other Wayne’s heard before the front door slammed shut.

“What...” Jason started staring wide-eyed at where Damian just vanished through

“...just happened?” Dick finished looking just as confused before everyone turned to look at Bruce for his reaction.

“Habibti means my love,” Bruce said in lieu of an answer as they all then turned to look at Tim as he tapped away on a tablet.

“Already tracking him,” Tim said as silence settled back over the room as everyone tried to process what just happened. In the opinion of everyone gathered it took much too long for Tim to tell them where Damian left in such a hurry before finally looking up at everyone and said, “He’s at Harley and Ivy’s.”

~.~.~.~

Damian quickly knocked on the door, his clothes a little disheveled and his hair a bit messy from his mad dash across the city to the apartment housing the Isley-Quinzels. Ivy opened the door and stepped aside to allow him to enter and watched as he ran over to Marinette who was on her fourth cup of calming tea her tears now dry but her mind still frazzled.

“Habibti, are you okay?” he asked, dropping in front of her as her eyes began to well with a new wave of tears, and sobs began to wrack her small body once more. Damian quickly picked her up holding her close and rubbed her back as she choked out apologies sobbing into his shoulder. “Habibti, you're making me really worried; what happened?” he asked, trying to get her to look at him.

Marinette took a slow shaky breath before pulling back and looked at him, her bluebell eyes filled with unshed tears before she softly croaked out, “I’m... pregnant.” 

Damian’s eyes widened just slightly as he took in what she said a cold chill settling over his body as he stumbled back falling into the chair Harley quickly moved behind him to catch him. Marinette let out another sob and moved to get out of his hold only for him to hold onto her tighter, “You’re pregnant?” he asked just above a whisper as he stared through her.

She nodded biting her lip hard as she waited for him to shout, shove her away, anything to show his anger. Instead, he pulled her even closer burying his face in her neck, and let out a shaky laugh, “You’re pregnant.” he muttered, “I- I’m going to be a father.” he said, pulling back to look at her.

Tension seemed to leave Marinette like snow melting at the beginning of spring as she weakly smiled at him nodding, “If...” she coughed to clear her throat and scrubbed her face with her sleeve again to look at him, “If you want to...” she mumbled.

“Of course I want to Habibti.” Damian breathed hugging her tightly before pulling back to look down at her stomach and gently ran his fingers over the covered flesh, “I can’t believe this.” he muttered looking at her with awe.

Harley and Ivy smiled watching the two have their heartfelt moment before deciding to break it, “What’s your dad gonna say?” Harley asked cutting through the tender moment with as much grace as a blunt axe.

Damian felt another cold wave wash over him at the mention of his father as his eyes widened, “My family doesn’t know about you.” he muttered looking at Marinette.

“They’re going to think I did this to trap you,” Marinette mumbled her face going to a sickly green as she shoved her way out of Damian's arm and ran into the bathroom slamming it shut as retching filled the apartment once more.

“You have to tell them.” Harley said watching Damian, “before she starts showing she’s small so it’ll be obvious soon enough.”

The apartment fell into silence with the only sound being Marinette’s morning sickness for a long while before a ringing cut through and Damian pulled out his phone. Father clear as day showing on the screen for the awaiting call. Damian stared at it until it went silent and then lit up with another incoming call from Bruce. “I have to answer don’t I?” he asked looking over at Ivy and Harley.

“Unless you want them all stormin in here then yeah,” Harley said, sipping some of the tea she made for Marinette.

Damian sighed and took a deep breath before answering the call, “Hello father.”

[kiribakuhappiness]

Bakugou's Wedding Studio

Katsuki's

by KiriBakuHappiness

(AO3 link)

Bakugou Katsuki / Kirishima Eijirou Wedding Planner / Engaged AU Fluff/Humor/Light-Angst/Romance Rated T (for Katsuki’s colorful language) Word Count: 6315

Author's Note:// I really don't know where this story idea came from but I just had such an overwhelming urge to write it so now all of you are going to have to read it - enjoy!

Katsuki has never been to a wedding before.

The fuck would he waste his time going to one of those dumbass things for? To watch relatives who he didn't know and had never cared to meet before cry disgustingly and blow snot into rags in celebration of someone else in the family getting to have bland missionary sex for the rest of their pathetically monotonous lives?

Or did the joy come from listening to people whisper about the decoration choices and chuckle in disdain about family drama or was all the fun wrapped up in making sure someone's estranged uncle didn't get too drunk and try to piss on the bride's gown or -

Where the fuck was the fun in any of it?!

Fuck. Katsuki hated weddings - and he's never even fucking been to one before but that hardly matters because he gets the overall fucking gist of them just fine on his own. He's seen all the damn movies.

The weepy vows and the overly-edited wedding photos and the drunken hook ups in the coat closet or bathroom with someone who may or may not be a distant cousin or, fuck; it was all so very cliché and annoying.

Unfortunately, Katsuki's mother was a fucking wedding planner - so guess who knew way more about weddings than he'd ever planned to know?

You're a fucking genius. It's this guy.

Just shoot his damn brains out now. 'S not like he's gonna need them much after suffering through all of this shit.

"Katsuki," his mother swats at his arm and abruptly pulls him full force back into the wretched reality of this entirely undesirable situation. "Are you listening? This is important to me - I'm really counting on you for this one, kid!"

Katsuki barely holds back a groan. Barely.

He might be reaching 24, but his attitude still felt like that of an angsty teenager most days, and all of this unnecessary needling really wasn't helping with his high blood pressure that his doctor kept insisting that he had.

He shifts in the uncomfortable plastic chair by the edge of the hospital bed and tries to pay attention - he does - because his mother got hit by a car not three hours ago, and while that was so insatiably fucking hilarious to think about on its own, the resulting chaos that had ensued after such a laughably out-of-bounds incident that had dragged his ass head-first into all of this was most certainly not.

"I could do this shit in my sleep if I had to. I was forced to go with you to meet-ups like this all the damn time, remember?" Katsuki grumbles bitterly as he proceeds to flip through the scarce few channels on the television screen hanging up in the corner of the room.

Mitsuki snatches the remote from him when he passes over the same dull history channel about sharks for the third time since he'd arrived with a bag full of hastily packed shit from the house after he had gotten the call from the hospital.

"Yeah, when you were seven." She turns the television off and tosses the remote out of his reach into the other vacant chair on the far side of the room. Katsuki scowls and watches it soar away, briefly mourning the loss of the only thing getting him through this conversation with his mental stability still in tact.

"How fucking hard can it be?" Katsuki continues to gripe as he slouches further down in his seat, throwing his feet up to rest his boots on the bed with his ankles crossed. "'You want this piece of shit flower, or this piece of shit flower? You want this dumb table set up, or this dumb table set up?' I think I can fucking handle it."

His mother sighs and runs a hand over her bruised face, but he can still see the smirk that she's so desperately trying to hide in her palm. She can't fool Katsuki - she might sell lovey-dovey bullshit day in and day out to poor saps who waste all of their hard earned life savings on some big dumb party that most of their guests who are invited to attend are too drunk to even remember the next morning anyway - but she's just as much of an asshole as Katsuki is.

Mitsuki was just significantly better at hiding it in front of her important valued business clients.

"Just... please be on your best behavior, alright? And wear something nice. A sweater, maybe? You do own nice clothes, don't you?" His mother goads as she finishes organizing the gigantic black binder open on the bed sheets in front of her before she slaps it shut with a satisfied grin that stretches the bandage on her cheek.

"Oh yeah," Katsuki snorts with a condescending roll of his eyes. "Want me to get my finest jewels out of the damn vault, too? Maybe hunt down an endangered cougar and wear its scent as fresh cologne?"

His mother's hand comes up to her face again, but her shoulders are shaking. "How did I ever raise such a charming gentleman?"

"Beats me, you're a fucking bitch," Katsuki counters easily as he lumbers up to his feet. He reaches for the binder but his mother is quicker and she snatches it up to hold it close to her chest.

She's giving him her most serious look now.

Ugh. That means they're officially done fucking around.

"I mean it, Katsuki. This client was a referral - I really need them to have a good experience," his mother repeats for what must be the seventy-billionth fucking time.

Katsuki melts back into his chair with a disgruntled whine that could have come from a five-year-old's temper tantrum. "The fuck can't you just reschedule this shit for if it's so damn important?"

"Because the couple needs to be married and on a flight in exactly two months. Do you know how fucking long it takes to plan a wedding, Katsuki?"

He does. "No."

His mother smacks the binder against the top of his head before she finally holds it out for him. "Don't screw this up, wise-ass."

How fucking encouraging.

Katsuki snatches the binder from her with another overly-dramatic roll of his eyes as he shoves himself up to his feet again and starts for the door. "Hope you get a bed sore, devil woman."

"Love you too, you little shit!"

-

His mother's office building is way too fucking fancy for Katsuki's taste. Expensive wooden flooring and tall ceilings and Rome-inspired pillars and some kind of old fucking statue of a half-naked woman right at the damn entrance with her stone breasts all hanging out.

Was this supposed to be a wedding planner's studio or some kind of fucking art museum? Katsuki can't even tell anymore.

He supposes that it has been a pretty long time since he's last been back here, and he can't ignore the fact that his mother's dumb business has come a long way from being the dinky little hole in the wall that it used to be.

Still, the statue feels like a bit of an over kill. Katsuki can't stop staring at it. Where the fuck were her arms? And why did her eyes look like that?

Were they... moving?

His body tilts dangerously far to one side as he eyes up at the woman's face with a squinted gaze. She was definitely tracking his movements - this statue was seriously fucking cursed or something. It probably came to fucking life at night, creepy ass piece of -

"Uh... am I interrupting something?"

Katsuki nearly staggers over his own two feet as he hurries to try and right himself before he whips around to spot the culprit who has so suddenly decided to sneak up on him.

"Hah?! Fucking hell, make some damn noise next time!" Katsuki reprimands with a harsh glare. He hates being fucking spooked like that.

The man in front of him grins a wide, toothy smile. "Sorry, man! I didn't mean to startle you! Uh, is this... the Bakugou's Wedding Studio -"

Oh shit. This is the guy that Katsuki is supposed to meet with today?

His sharp gaze takes in the plain jeans with the rip in the left knee and the dark V-neck combo that he's wearing; a pretty casual get up considering the dumbass shirt and tie that Katsuki's hag of a mother seemed to think that he desperately needed to wear for this. She was so full of shit sometimes.

Fuck, was this guy still talking?

"- so I hope that's okay and everything!"

Katsuki has no idea what he's going on about, but it doesn't matter. He waves a dismissive hand around in the air, anyway.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, Red. You ready to do this or what?"

The guy blinks in surprise at him and one of the hands he's had pushed down into the pockets of his jeans suddenly reaches up to touch at the stupid spikes of red hair styled on the top of his head before he laughs boisterously.

"Alright, a man of action - I like that! Let's do it!" Red cheers, thrusting a fist up in the air and beaming another ridiculously happy grin. What a fucking nut job.

Katsuki leads him around the creepy statue lady and across the wooden floors of the studio towards a set of black leather couches set up in the corner by the large bay windows overlooking the street below. He slaps the binder on the table and flops down onto the couch before he mindlessly flips it open to the first page to pull out all of the dumb introductory forms.

The faster they get through this shit, the quicker Katsuki can go home and take these uncomfortable clothes off - gotta keep his eyes on the prize.

Red plops down on the couch next to him, still smiling that mega-watt grin. Katsuki is used to seeing that stupid fucking look on his mother's more sappy clients' faces.

It's all about the fucking love, right?

Definitely not about all of the money.

"This place is really nice," Red compliments unnecessarily as his eyes sweep across the studio. "Did you decorate it yourself?"

Katsuki snorts at that. And then he rehears the question in the back of his mind and he cackles again because holy shit - that's the funniest fucking thing anyone has ever asked him. "Hell no. Just filling in for my mom or whatever. 'S her place, not mine."

"Oh, are you... not a wedding planner then, or?"

Shit. Backtrack - fucking backtrack.

"Hah? 'Course I am! You think I come here and do this shit for fun or something?" Katsuki snarks back as nonchalantly as he can. He really needs to just get this over with.

"Where's your wife-to-be, anyway? Shouldn't she be here nitpicking all of this shit over with you?" Katsuki grumbles absentmindedly as he yanks out a pen and finally settles down to do quite possibly the most boring thing to have ever been invented.

"Nah man, I just told you! My ah... husband-to-be had something come up at work, so he couldn't make it in today," Red explains again anyway, entirely unperturbed with having to repeat himself. "It's just me!"

Gay? Huh. Katsuki wouldn't have ever guessed.

"Whatever, just make sure he doesn't call and complain if he doesn't like what you pick out," Katsuki warns as he flips the pages of the binder to the first horrible section of a long list of equally horrible things; the venues.

"Don't worry about it, dude!" Red reassures with a confident thumb thrust into his puffed out chest. "I've got a great sense of style!"

-

So.

That was a fucking lie.

Red's got something - but it ain't style. A brain tumor, maybe.

"You want to do what?" Katsuki can't help but ask incredulously. His pen stalls in his casual note-taking as he raises an eyebrow and lifts his cheek off his clenched fist to better stare at the other man so that he knows just how ridiculous his dumb request sounds.

"You don't think that'd be awesome?!" Red expels with just as much disbelief, sitting up now with his hands thrown out wide in the air as though to adamantly argue his point. "First the ceremony, then the reception - or whichever one comes first, I guess I already forgot - but then, boom! Paintball tournament! It's fool proof, man!"

They've been at this for two hours now and Katsuki thinks there must be something seriously wrong with this guy. He's kind of starting to think that he isn't even really engaged. There's just no fucking way. He's literally a child with adult spending money.

"My mom ain't gonna plan a fucking paintball tournament for your wedding, I'll tell you that right now," Katsuki snorts with a further bewildered shake of his head at the very idea of it as he resettles his cheek against his fist again.

Red beams a mischievous sort of grin as he casually leans over to elbow Katsuki in the bicep. "Buuut your mom's not my wedding planner, you are! Right? C'mon, I can totally tell that you're way cooler than she is!"

Huh. Red's got some kind of a point there. Maybe not a complete one, or a valid one, but it's the start of something intriguing for sure.

Katsuki flicks his pen around in his fingers as he entertains this woefully horrible temptation to fuck with this painfully typical wedding design that Red's husband-to-be seems to be so dead set on having. Katsuki can't help but agree with the idiotic manchild; maybe that's what weddings need more of these days in order to be less shitty.

Some kind of entirely chaotic activity that causes real physical harm.

Besides, his mother did tell him that he was meant to do whatever it was that the customer wanted - whatever they ask for, just tell them you can do it and then figure it out from there! - and this overly enthusiastic redhead sitting on the other end of this leather couch from him wants a fucking paintball tournament at his wedding.

This temporary gig might be a lot more interesting than Katsuki originally gave it credit for.

"Alright, Red... you've piqued my interest," Katsuki concedes cautiously as he pens in a little added note at the bottom of the seventeenth modified color scheme they had finally settled on. "You want a paintball tournament, I'll give you a fucking paintball tournament."

"Woah, really?!" Red lights up like a fucking Christmas tree at that. "Oh man, you must be the best wedding planner ever!"

Katsuki tries not to look too smug. What a horrible fucking compliment, anyway. But still - Red's got the right idea. Katsuki was the fucking best.

He might not mind working with this idiot for the remainder of this project, after all.

"What other kind of crazy junk you want?"

"Oh, dude! I've got lots of ideas!"

-

A wedding generally takes anywhere from 200-500 hours to fully plan and execute. Katsuki's currently got about 10 1/2 logged with Red over the course of their past few meetings together, which only left a bare minimum of around 189.5 more hours to go.

Still, it wasn't really as painstaking or horribly boring as Katsuki had been expecting it to be. Despite the moron's horrendous sense of style and apparent fucking colorblindness, he did have a shit ton of incredibly dumb wedding event ideas to spout off endlessly about, and Katsuki was almost having trouble narrowing down which horribly inappropriate ones to choose to include in the draft proposal from their long ass list.

He couldn't believe how much he found that he really didn't mind walking into his mother's wedding studio in preparation for another long session with the weirdest client he's ever had the misfortune of meeting. This wedding was gonna be fucking awesome if Katsuki had anything to do with it.

His unusually optimistic attitude about this unfavorable situation changed rather abruptly when Red finally walked through the door a half an hour later, though. He wasn't alone this time.

Red's Fiancé was... not what Katsuki expected.

Not that Katsuki had really been expecting much of anything. To be honest, he'd almost forgotten that the dumbass even had one. But of course, it takes two to fucking tango, and here the lovebirds are now sitting on the opposite couch together from the one Katsuki had chosen.

"I read over the draft proposal last night and - " Red's Fiancé gives Red some kind of half-sympathetic/half-grimaced look. " - while I appreciate the eccentricity, I really don't think my family wants us to have a Slip N' Slide at our wedding."

Your family is fucking lame then, Middle Part. Katsuki crosses out the Slip N' Slide note in his binder with a disapproving scowl.

Red's face burns with a bright flush of color as he reaches a sheepish hand up to rub at the back of his head. "Ah, yeah, sorry about that! I went a little overboard with it. It was just really fun planning everything out with - "

Red blinks for a moment as his face smooths out before he glances in Katsuki's direction for what might have been the very first time since they had arrived. "Oh, I guess I've never really gotten your name before!"

Katsuki shifts in his seat and doesn't look up. "Katsuki."

"Right, Katsuki! It was really fun planning with him these past few sessions; he's gotta be the best one in the city or something - I was getting so excited for the wedding!"

Tch. Katsuki was sorta getting excited to see all the tom-fuckery come together, too. But whatever.

"I'm sure it'll be just as exciting," Middle Part tries to satiate like a parent calming down an obnoxious child with a condescending pat on Red's knee. The tone grates on Katsuki's nerves for reasons he can't even begin to come up with.

Middle Part turns back to Katsuki, then. "But in a more... traditional sense, if you know what I mean."

Katsuki's eyes narrow down at the binder in his lap, but he knows he's got a job to fucking do - his mother would have a damn heart attack or something if he didn't do what he was supposed to be doing right now - so he simply tears out the draft proposal form, crumples it up into a little ball, and tosses it carelessly over his head to land somewhere on the wooden floor behind his couch.

Back to boring old fucking business.

"Oh, I'd also like to go over the color scheme one more time? I'm more of a pastel person and the reds are all very... bright."

-

Katsuki can't stop thinking about it.

He hates that he can't stop thinking about it, but that doesn't make it any less true that he can't stop thinking about it.

Katsuki didn't know up-from-down about Red - fuck, he hadn't even been paying close enough attention to have ever caught the guy's real name - but something about their session yesterday with Middle Part didn't sit right with him.

It was all-in-all a very typical meeting. His mother would have been fucking ecstatic with the outcome. They changed the color scheme to something more pastel spring-timey and replaced the red Hibiscus flowers with some boring ass Tulips and they even had to go back and pick a different venue cause Middle Part had some kind of damn phobia of the fucking water or some shit and truly seemed to believe that the scenic lake-side cabin property that Red had chosen out on the outskirts of the city would be too much of a distraction for him to focus on The Big Day.

Pretty much everything that they had planned out together in their earlier sessions had to be changed. And throughout the entire fucking process, Red didn't say another damn word the whole time.

Not to give his opinion. Not to express any kind of interest or growing excitement. Not even to protest. He merely sat there with that plastered on goofy grin, with Middle Part's hand wrapped tight on his knee, and didn't say a single damn thing.

Katsuki can't stop fucking thinking about it. When he'd first met Red, he was certain that guy's COD was going to be suffocation from forgetting how to take a pause inbetween his incessant ramblings long enough to remember to breathe.

It wasn't even any of Katsuki's damn business. He knew that. And he didn't fucking care about the relationship dynamic of a newly-engaged couple that he didn't know and hadn't even met for more than a few hours. It just felt like such a big damn fucking waste of time because obviously this was all going to end in some kind of a divorce.

Middle Part was stiff and proper and had a huge stick up his ass, and Red was just so loud and expressive and wanted a fucking rock-climbing wall at his damn wedding. It was like watching some suburban soccer mom tame a real-life Rolling Stones Rockstar or some shit.

How did those two fuckers even meet in the first place? Fall in love? Get engaged? It didn't make any sense to Katsuki, and it was really starting to piss him off.

During their next session together a few days later (sans Middle Part again, who just had to run off and attend some hoity-toity business garden party or something else that happened to be more important than planning his damn wedding), Katsuki literally couldn't stop himself from asking, "You really want a boring ass wedding like this?"

Red stops mid-babble with his glass of champagne poised at his lips that Mitsuki had vehemently demanded that Katsuki supply for this next meeting - because how could he have ever forgotten to do such an important part of this overall incredibly lame process?

"Oh, I mean... it's not really supposed to be an actual party. It's more of a serious thing, you know?" Red tries pathetically to explain the purpose of a wedding to a(n unlicensed) wedding planner, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. "I guess I got a little carried away with it all before. Sorry if I wasted your time or anything, I told you I'm no good at planning this kind of stuff..."

There it is again. That incessant needling in Katsuki's gut that he'd noticed also happened when Middle Part had placed that hand on Red's knee and didn't let go of it for the entire time that they were sitting together on that damn couch.

Katsuki purses his lips into a thin line to prevent himself from saying anything asshole-ish, because he's sure that one of the rules to being The Best Wedding Planner Ever was not to insult the Fiancé.

"That's why I really need your help here, man!" Red continues on, unbothered by or just too plain stupid to recognize Katsuki's silence on the topic. "You're so talented; I just know you'll make it the best day ever!"

It slips out before Katsuki can even think about stopping it. "Shouldn't that be your new husband's job or something?"

Red blinks over at him in surprise at such a statement, and Katsuki blinks down at the binder in his lap because - fuck - even he knows that was way totally out of line.

"Let's just fucking finish picking out the - "

It's the movement that he spots out of his peripherals as Red leans forward to place his glass of champagne on the table that causes Katsuki to stiffen and finally snap his eyes up from where they'd been glued to the binder.

Shit, Red doesn't look good. His brows are furrowed and there's an uncharacteristically obvious frown on his lips as he watches the bubbles in the champagne glass float up to the top. Katsuki waits with held breath for him to do something more, his heart pounding in his chest, and eventually Red looks at him again and offers him an entirely forced apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I'm just... I'm not really feeling that great today. I think I'm gonna have to cut this session short, if that's okay."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Katsuki's big ass mouth has gone and done it again. He doesn't even have enough time to try and salvage anything or react to such a sudden departure before Red is leaping up from the couch and scurrying across the studio towards the front doors.

Katsuki watches him leave with his pen hanging limp in his hand and his mouth slightly parted.

His mother was totally going to fucking ream him for fucking this one up.

-

"You said what?!"

Katsuki tosses an exasperated hand up in the air and glares harder from where he's standing at the foot of the bed in the master bedroom. He hasn't even taken his denim jacket off yet. "You didn't have to fucking meet this guy, alright?! He was pretentious and boring and - "

Mitsuki snorts with an angry roll of her eyes. "Newsflash, you fucking psychopath - you don't have to like the clients that you work for, you just have to do your damn job! He's not your Fiancé, this isn't your wedding!"

"I fucking know that! He just really fucking pissed me the fuck off!" Katsuki yells back, red-faced and frantic as he forces fingers to tangle through his explosive hair.

"You have to fix this, Katsuki - "

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Why's it gotta be my responsibility to convince this guy to marry that total fucking d-bag? It's gonna end in a divorce, anyway!"

"That's not even any of your fucking concern, moron! Let the divorce attorney deal with all of that crap!"

"It's not fair for Red!" Katsuki continues to argue adamantly none-the-less, slapping the back of his hand into the palm of the other for emphasis.

Mitsuki blinks over at him now, eyebrows scrunching in the center of her face and - shit, he doesn't like that look she's giving him at all. "Who the fuck is Red?"

"T-the fucking guy! The one I've been dealing with this whole damn time, the - "

"The guy who wanted to have a dunk-tank at his wedding?!" Mitsuki asks incredulously. "If you ask me, that's not fair to anyone getting married."

Katsuki glowers over at her as he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his coat and curls them into tight fists to try and pull himself together.

"Least it would've been fucking entertaining to watch..." he grumbles bitterly, but fuck, he knows the old hag has a damn point.

Mitsuki's looking at him especially closely now and it's making Katsuki squirm under her laser-focused scrutiny. He clenches his jaw to combat the uncomfortable bout of feelings rumbling in his stomach and flings his hands (still secure in his pockets) out once more in a baiting sort of gesture.

"Fucking what?" Katsuki spits defensively.

"Oh... my god," Mitsuki leans back into the pillows on her king-sized bed like she's just been given the most horrible news. "Don't tell me you fell in love with a fucking client, Katsuki."

Katsuki's entire face scrunches up unpleasantly at that accusation like he's just swallowed an entire lemon. "The fuck?! Are you outta your goddamn mind!?"

"Are you?! Katsuki, he's engaged!" She whips one of her purple satin pillows at him. "You're supposed to be planning his wedding!"

Katsuki's hands are too tangled up in his pockets to prevent the assault and the pillow smacks stupidly against his chest and tumbles to the floor at his socked feet. "That's what I was trying to fucking do!"

"Really? Cause from what your dumbass just told me, it sounds a lot more like you've taken some kind of damn interest in this fucking guy and want to ruin his marriage before it's even started!"

Katsuki blinks at her because he doesn't even know what to fucking say in response to that. It's so totally outlandish and stupid. He's not fucking in love with Red - he doesn't even know that asshole! They've been in the same room together for approximately 25 hours - 4 1/2 of which Red hadn't even spoken a single damn word for!

Mitsuki heaves a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose. It's like she can't even fucking look at him right now. "Just go, Katsuki. I should've never fucking asked you to do this for me in the first place."

Fuck.

Katsuki shifts his weight restlessly from one foot to the other. He knows he's an asshole, and he knows his mother's a batty fucking bitch, but that's why it always makes his stomach twist so uncomfortably whenever she looks at him like that - or rather, whenever she doesn't look at him like that.

Assholes needed to stick together, damnit!

"Mom, I'm fucking sorry or whatever, I just - "

"I know. Now leave. There's leftover soup in the fridge. Grab some when you go." Mitsuki picks up the magazine she had been perusing through before he'd so brutishly trampled his way into her room and she starts reading it again like he wasn't still standing there staring at her, and that was just the end of that.

Katsuki had fucked it all up. Someone's marriage, his mother's new client, her expectations of him - all of it. Fucked it right up from the ground up.

He clenches his jaw again and exhales a hard, agitated breath through his flaring nostrils before he snatches up the pillow on the floor and chucks it onto the bed as he stomps over to the door and finally leaves.

-

Katsuki has only ever bought flowers twice before.

Once when he got suspended from school for getting into a fight, and once when he totaled his piece of shit car trying to out race some idiot who had egged him on at a red light. Both times his mother had received them with the very same reactions - an incredulous stare, a long thoughtful pause, a heavy reluctant sigh, and forgiveness.

Lilacs were her favorites - and Katsuki only fucking knew that cause his old man used to drill it incessantly into his damn head all while growing up before that asshole had to go and die of brain cancer. ‘Whenever your mother is angry with me, I always buy her Lilacs. They soften her right up!’

That was the only reason why Katsuki was clutching onto such an embarrassing collection of recently purchased Lilacs as he pushed his way through the door of the Bakugou’s Wedding Studio a few weeks later.

He gave his mother time to cool off, and he went and got the damn flowers, and now he just needed to find the batty bitch.

There were quite a few people here today milling about on the furniture and perusing through the catalogues - some guy sitting next to his soon-to-be-wife was ogling the damn statue like he’d never fucking seen boobies before - and honestly, Katsuki would have turned around and walked right back into the street if he hadn’t spotted his mother’s head bobbing by somewhere in the background of all the fucking chaos.

Alright Katsuki, it’s fucking show time.

He regrips the Lilacs in his sweaty fingers as he maneuvers through a crowd of bridesmaids who are all screeching about something or another at a decibel that only fucking dogs can hear, before he finds himself suddenly face-to-face with his mother’s urgently frantic energy.

They both stop at the same time and stare at each other for a moment. Mitsuki breaks the silence with a click of her tongue again the roof of her mouth and a sharp turn of her gaze onto anything else in the room that isn’t him.

“I’m kind of busy right now - “ She tries to breeze past him but Katsuki just steps in her way and prevents her from leaving.

“Here.” He thrusts the Lilacs up into the space between them. His jaw tightens and he tries not to think about how fucking ridiculous he must look right now.

His mother’s list of reactions is consistent, at least; an incredulous stare that drifts down to eye at the Lilac bundle, a softening of her features as she takes in all of the different little purple petals - she’s probably thinking about dad, just like Katsuki does every time he has to wander into that damn flower shop on the other side of the city to purchase these stupid shits - and then... a heavy sigh.

She reaches out and takes them from him, and his hands dive back into his pockets purely on instinct and flustered nerves. Mitsuki looks up from the Lilacs and catches eyes with him again.

“They didn’t go through with it,” Mitsuki informs him. As if he even fucking cares.

“Hm.” He grunts back in some kind of forced response.

Mitsuki sighs again, softer this time, and runs the pad of her finger along the lush flowers. “Well... I’m sure business will be fine without them. I really wasn’t expecting such a rush like this today, so - “

“Uh... hello.” A voice interrupts from somewhere outside of their private family bubble.

Katsuki and Mitsuki both whip around and - holy motherfucking shit - it’s Red.

He’s wearing a leather jacket over a plaid shirt today, and his obnoxious spikes are loose and under the protection of a bandana. He grins sheepishly at the pair of them, his cheeks are already dusting with flushed color. “A-again, I guess. I just wanted to come by and apologize for wasting so much of your family’s time with... everything. I really hope I didn’t cause too much trouble for you.”

“Wait, you’re Red?” Mitsuki chimes in before Katsuki can even rub two brain cells together enough to spark any kind of a thought.

“Huh?” Red blinks at her in confusion before suddenly he’s laughing so loudly that people’s heads are starting to turn in their direction. “Oh! Haha, yeah I am! You can call me Eijirou, if that’s easier for you. Red works fine too, though, I guess!”

Eijirou.

“Anyway,” Red clears his throat, and he looks uncertain as he shuffles his weight around restlessly. “I know it was a bit of a shit show, but I really want to make up for it! I know some people who are recently engaged and I recommended your studio to them! Katsuki was so great with everything, and my friend Denki really wants to do something with zip-lining for his wedding!”

“Zip-lining?! Look kid, I appreciate the business, really, but - “

Katsuki elbows her hard in the ribs with a sideways glare sharp enough to cut glass. His mother eyes him back and they stare at each other for a long time, having one of their infamous telepathic arguments, before Mitsuki throws her hands in the air in added exasperation.

“Zip-lining, touch-tank, hell, I’ll order some fucking panda bears from the local zoo if they want it,” she declares to the heavens above.

Before Katsuki has the chance to snap at her, one of the dog-whistle bridesmaids is summoning her over from the other side of the room, and his mother beelines it towards them in an obvious attempt to escape. Katsuki watches her leave with a scowl.

“I, uh,” Red clears his throat again, and it causes Katsuki to snap his gaze back onto him once more. “I actually stopped by earlier this week but you weren’t here. I was kind of hoping to catch you, I... wanted to thank you.”

Katsuki blinks at him in disbelief. “Hah?! For fucking what? Ruining your goddamn wedding?”

“Ruin it?” Red’s head shoots up from where he’d been intently watching the tips of his sneakers. “Dude, are you for real? You didn’t ruin anything, you saved it! You saved me! I was always taught growing up that a wedding had to be perfect, and beautiful, and professionally photographed. And I was always told how stressful it all was and I was really nervous to come here and try to figure it all out - but when I was planning my wedding with you, it was... fun! And exciting! I couldn’t wait for it to arrive so I could watch all of my friends and family having the best time together on the most important day of my life!”

Katsuki can really only think to blink at him again, because truly, there must be something wrong with this fucking idiot. Nobody in the history of ever has probably been this excited for a botched wedding.

“Anyway,” Red shifts again, grinning that sheepish smile of his that squints his eyes and makes the flush on his face that much more prominent. “I know I was like... just engaged a few weeks ago or whatever but... do you want to maybe go play paintball with me sometime?”

Holy shit. Red was fucking asking him out on a date. Is that what was fucking happening right now?

There must be something wrong with Katsuki, too, because - “Sure, why the fuck not?”

Red is beaming again, and Katsuki’s heart is racing in his chest like some kind of dumb prepubescent child, and Katsuki’s never been to a fucking wedding before, but if he can manage not to fucking screw this up just like everything else, then he already knows that his and Eijirou’s wedding is going to be the best fucking one in history.

He’s already planning on it.

-

Author’s Note:// AHBXHBAXA - Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this dumb little short story! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated but never expected! <3

[flockofdoves]

really want to cry i had an at home sleep study done way back in may but my doctor never called me about the results so since june ive been trying my best to call at the very least every 2 weeks sometimes more to talk with her (and i know she has the results! she confirmed when i messaged her in the patient portal once that she has the results) but every single time the office says shes not available and they’ll have her call me back later but she never ever does the only time she did was when i sent a patient portal message instead of talking with the receptionist (ig i should try that again idk) but it was in the middle of when i was in class i didnt see it and then she wasnt available when i called back right after

so i finally decided to just give up on holding out hope for this and decided to get a new primary care doctor in massachusetts instead of chicago since im more likely to be around here regardless for the next few years (maybe all this could be solved easier if i could schedule an in person appointment with her but i literally just have not been in chicago since june and wont be any time soon!) but all the doctors are sooooo booked up around here and also i just really value going to a doctor thats not gonna be bad about fibro or eating disorder stuff or be fatphobic so ofc after getting recommendations about that in local groups that narrowed things way down (and honestly is depressing bc even the most recommended at least one person has some horror story with them) and i know the doctor i chose is a lot less booked than others but even then i wont be able to see her til may

a whole fucking year since i first tried to get this stuff figured out :( and thats not even to actually find out thats just to go to a PCP so i can hopefully get a referral to go to a sleep study (ideally in person the more i read about at home ones they seem largely pointless) so Maybe i can have this figured out by the end of the summer

i swear to god i get more and more convinced i have obstructive sleep apnea and the presumed effects of that affect my life in so many ways im so so so sick of living like this and it takes such a toll on my ability to be successful in school/life/etc and now i have to go through Yet Another semester not able to do fucking anything about it and even with the promise of an appointment in may its still so uncertain what will come of that

[avelera]

Hi! I love going through your ADHD tag. A lot of it is so informative but I like reading your personal experiences and seeing that I'm not the only one feeling the way I am. So, thank you for putting that out there! I had a question for you regarding the diagnosis of ADHD and, please if you feel uncomfortable or don't want to answer, please feel free to just ignore this! For over 5-6 years, I've been quite sure that I have ADHD. However, in the past (and currently, actually) I haven't been in a position to seek out a therapist or get a diagnosis. I've also heard it's really expensive to get a diagnosis. Would you be okay with talking about how you found someone to talk to about a potential diagnosis and what the process of getting a diagnosis looks like? I found some stuff online but it's been pretty vague and generally along the lines of "it differs on a case-by-case basis." Thank you, again, for the tag and for all the stuff you write! <3

Hey there Anon! Happy to share my experience.

Ok, so here's the privileges I had which might mitigate the value of my advice in some situations but 1) I'm in the US (specifically, the northeast) where ADHD is taken pretty seriously and while not spoken of openly in all professional circles, getting a diagnosis in most cases doesn't run up against cultural taboos that would prevent treatment 2) I have health insurance through my job and 3) I was in a position to seek therapy when I got my diagnosis for unrelated life stuff. It was the therapist who referred me to a psychiatrist who got me meds and later I found this AMAZING psychiatrist in my area who helped me work through multiple medications until I found the right fit (however, she had a 4 month waitlist before I could work with her. Worth it! But I had an ongoing prescription during that time, I just wasn't sure it was the right one).

Gonna cut here to go into more specifics:

- I was diagnosed when I mentioned to my therapist (while pretty much shaking with fear that I would look like some kind of amphetamine addict looking for a fix or a kid looking for party drugs) that I kinda sorta maybe had ADHD destroying my life and she basically went, "Oh yeah, that's been obvious since Day 1 when you wouldn't look me in the eye while speaking." So... lol, basically you're probably not nearly as subtle as you think to a trained professional if you have it.

- When I dared to ask if she could help me get medication her response was, "Yeah, sure, here's a number, call them and tell them I sent you as a referral." It was that difficult.

- That person kinda sucked and there's a bunch of annoying bureaucracy BUT when I mentioned this to my general practitioner doctor he was like "If they suck I can hold you over with prescriptions until you find a new person." No, he did not question me. Literally no actual medically trained person I've ever spoken to has shown any concern that I might be lying or faking or whatever, they've all be scrupulously helpful and even apologetic at all the hoops.

- The first time I tried Adderall I had a near out-of-body experience with how easy life suddenly became. Fear of emails just melted away. I got a week's worth of work that had been HAUNTING me done in an afternoon. HOWEVER, that level of euphoria only happened the one time, and that's pretty universal that you'll cry with relief the first time you use it then if you don't get the right medication you will chase that high incorrectly. For me, the correct medication turned out to be extended-release, 25 mg (relatively low) generic adderall and this is after a year of the "fancier" Vyvanse that was supposed to be smoother (and it was, compared to single release adderall which made me want to chew nails I was so stressed).

- The downside with ANY single release for me though, it turned out (even relatively smooth Vyvanse) was that when I crashed at the end of the day I absolutely craved alcohol, or sugar, some kind of pick-me-up. I thought I was an alcoholic. I was legit scared by how bad I needed alcohol at the end of the day, until I switched to slow release and the cravings just melted away. I still like drinking but the craving went away once I was no longer crashing and I've been so much better since.

- My advice to people is: if your circumstances don't preclude you (financially, culturally, etc.) drop a few inquiries to psychiatrists in your area. They will not laugh at you. They will not report you. Just say you think you have ADHD and you'd like professional help seeing if your self-diagnosis is correct and getting medication if so (which is why you need a psychiatrist, not a therapist. Therapists can't necessarily get you a prescription). Every medical professional I've worked with has been enormously helpful and understanding, your brain is lying to you when it says you're going to get arrested or something for just asking. That is dumb. That is desperation-brain, not reality.

Put out a few requests so if someone is overloaded or busy you have backups. You will have to do a couple scary professional emails or calls, maybe speak to your insurance, but I PROMISE you it is worth it. The light at the end of the tunnel is you have to do this one scary thing but the reward is this thing will never be scary again after.

And it is totally, totally worth it.

[darling-i-read-it]

Fromage

1x08

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.8k 

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, snapping someones neck, 

Author’s Note: You have no idea how pleasing it was to completely erase that scene of Will kissing Alana from existence. 

I took lines directly from the script so some may seem familiar.

Official Episode Summary : When the BAU investigates a murder in which the victim's vocal chords are exposed, Hannibal learns the killer acted to gain his attention; Will turns to Alana as a distraction from the noises in his head.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List: @llperfectsymmetryll​

(not my gif) 

You sat on the ground at the bottom of the bed, thumbing through the new book that Will had gotten you for Christmas. You were already mostly finished with it and it was very good so far. Will laid on his side beside you, working with an old motor. The dogs were sprawled around you in various stances and places.

You didn’t even notice when Will stopped, you were so engrossed in your book. You didn’t notice anything until he spoke.

“Do you hear that?” You put your head up and leaned hard into hearing as you tried to find a noise out of the ordinary. The steady snores of some of the dogs, Will’s sock covered foot tapping the ground. Nothing weird.

“I don’t hear anything,” you said. He stood up and looked out the front door window and turned to you.

“You don't hear that whining?” 

You listened again and still heard nothing.

“No. Is it faint?” 

“I’m gonna go walk around out front and see if I see anything,” he said and you nodded. He grabbed his coat and you heard the front door click shut. You listened again and still, heard nothing. You tried not to think anything of it and went back to your book.

A few minutes later Will came back inside and you perked up to see if he had any dog with him.

“So?” “It stopped. I think I might call Alana or someone to come look with me,” he said absentmindedly.

“I could just come.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“Hannibal won’t kill me if I’m a few minutes late. I think he likes the both of us enough,” you promised and got up. “What, do you want Alana to come instead of me?” you asked. It wasn’t judgy or playful. He couldn’t tell what it was. 

“No you can just come. It’s cold, grab a jacket.” 

You walked outside together through the barren lands outside of the house. You liked Alana, you really did, but you also were pretty sure that Will used to be in love with her before you met. You glanced at him, your hands shoved in your pockets. He was wearing a beanie that you liked but it covered his curls which you weren't a fan of.

“Why are you thinking about Alana?” Will asked.

“How did you know I was?” you whispered sheepishly.

“I know that look. Like you’re trying to have the courage to ask me something you might not like the answer to. The last time you did that you asked me about my crime scene thing.” You nodded. 

“I’m thinking about her because I know you two used to be close.”

“She was close with Hannibal. Actually, I’m pretty sure they almost dated so if you’re going to worry about a boyfriend worry about him,” he said. 

“Wow, touchy much?” you asked but he nudged you playfully. “I don’t like Hannibal that way.”

“I think Hannibal looks at us both in a different way than he does with other people,” he muttered. “As for Alana, I don’t like her the way he likes us,” Will digressed. You nodded.

“As long as I don’t hear about the two of you making out behind my back,” you said. He shook his head.

“When I did like her, before I met you, she thought I was too broken to date,” he said. You scoffed.

“Yeah well I can disagree there with proper evidence to back it up.” He laughed and nodded, putting his arm around your shoulder. 

“I don’t think we’re going to find anything. You should go to work.” You nodded.

“Walk back with me?”

“Sure.”

-

Hannibal sat in therapy, across from Bedelia. He clasped his hands on his crossed leg. 

“I worry I’ve made Franklyn feel powerless. His obsession with me is interfering with his progress,” he explained. “He wants to be my friend.” 

“Are these the opportunities for friendship you spoke about?” she asked, referring to a prior session. 

“I’m considering referring him to another doctor.”

“Referrals can be complicated. I referred you to another psychiatrist. You refused,” Bedelia said. 

“I’m more tenacious than Franklyn,” Hannibal promised.

“Why were you so tenacious?” Hannibal considered this a moment. 

“I feel protective of you.” This admission makes Bedelia feel uncomfortable but she hides it well.

“Who else do you feel protective of?” she questioned, eager to avert the subject smoothly. Hannibal thought about his answer here too, careful where he tredded.

“I suppose I feel protective of those who support me as a colleague, psychiatrist and as a human being like you do.”

“And the other names that come to mind are?” Hannibal knew the answer. He also knew Bedelia also knew the answer he was thinking of.

“I suppose Will and Y/N,” he stated simply. “I’m not sure.” She nodded, realizing how his demeanor changed when you and Will were brought into the conversation.

“The Grahams.”

“They aren’t married,” Hannibal corrected politely. 

“But that’s what they’re referred to as, from Will’s colleagues,” she said simply. He nodded.

“I suppose.” 

Although he knew it to be true he couldn’t ignore the feeling in his chest of distaste. ‘The Grahams’. It felt wrong even if he thought of the two of you as a unit. He sighed.

-

Hannibal approached you at your desk.

“Would you care to go on a trip to a string shop with me?” he questioned. 

“In an attempt to widen my cultural mind?” you asked. “Or simply to go.” He shrugged.

“I would like to meet the man who runs the shop. You don’t have to come if you’re busy.” you shook your head.

“I’d love to come. I don’t know anything about strings though.” 

Hannibal spoke a bit about his intent in the car but most of it went over your head. You nodded along and when he pulled the car up to a small string shop you were amazed that this was all the hype was about.

Hannibal got out of the car and opened your door for you.

“Ever the gentleman,” you teased. He nodded proudly as the two of you walked inside. You looked around a bit.

“Keep your gloves on,” Hannibal said. You had on your winter gloves and he had on surgical type ones so you didn’t question it, just nodded in agreement. A man walked in and you recognized him although it took you a moment to place him. 

“You’re Franklyn’s therapist. Dr. Lecter. Nice to see you again,” Tobias said. He turned to you. “And you’re the girl who has no romantic interest to him.” He shook both of your hands and you nodded, smiling politely.

“Tobias right?” you asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Your strings are all gut,” Hannibal pointed out.

“I also carry steel and polymer strings, if you prefer,” Tobias said. He walked around the room but you stood close to Hannibal, just in case. 

“I prefer gut. Harps found in the tombs of Thebes strung with gut still made music after 2000 years. Wonderful music you were making,” Hannibal said. 

“I didn’t hear you ring the bell.”

You looked between the two of them. You wondered why Hannibal had brought you. Perhaps it was simply because he wanted company despite you not knowing anything about strings. 

You stood near him and he watched each of your movements in the side of his eye. 

-

You walked in the door to your home tiredly after getting back from the string shop. You were exhausted from trying to follow the conversation but Hannibal said at the end he appreciated you coming so you must have done some good as a buffer of sorts. 

You looked to your left and immediately saw the large hole in your wall, just above the fireplace. You put your bag down. Will stood in front of it, holding a hammer. He turned to you.

“I can explain.”

“You better start. Like right now.” 

You walked up to the wall and stuck your arm through it.

“I thought I heard an animal inside,” he said.

“What kind of animal?”

“Might’ve been a racoon.”

“Might’ve been?” you questioned, turning around. You weren’t angry per say but rather inconvenienced. Will would likely want to fix it up himself so you wouldn’t have to pay anybody but still. It was a hole in your wall. 

“By the time I knocked a hole in the chimney, it crawled out the top.” You let out a sigh.

“Well, at least it got out,” you muttered. You took the hammer from his hands and waved it a bit. “I’m keeping this.” He nodded. 

“You’re late,” he said.

“I was at a string shop with Hannibal.” 

“What?” You walked over to the kitchen, putting the hammer away in one of the bottom cupboards. 

“A string shop. With Hannibal,” you said slower.

“Huh,” he muttered.

“Why?”

“There was a murder today, some guy played some other guys vocal chords like a cello. Just odd Hannibal went over there today.” You shrugged.

“He needed an instrument fixed, I tagged along.” You walked back over to the wall. “Although I wish I had stayed back to talk you out of doing that.” 

“I’ll fix it,” he promised.

“I know. And it’s okay really. You were just trying to help an animal which I understand,” you said simply. Even so, your eyes lingered on the chimney hole and you had to wonder if there was even an animal to begin with.

“I was actually going to go to Hannibal’s,” he said. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah I wanna talk about this murder with him. You mind?” You shook your head. 

“Of course not.” He nodded and grabbed the keys.

“I’ll be back before you’re in bed!” he called.

Then you were alone in your home that had a hole in it’s wall. You sighed.

-

You were in the office. It was just another day. Hannibal had an afternoon appointment with Franklyn and you were to wait in the waiting room working. There was nothing about the day that seemed eventful.

Will called you earlier in the day saying he was going to check out a string shop owner, teasingly. He didn’t elaborate but you worried for him a bit, naturally, as you worked.

It wasn’t until a little way into Franklyns session that you heard the door open. You looked up and noticed Tobias walk in. His ear was bloody. You stood up.

“Can I help you Tobias?” He shook his head and grabbed your arm, dragging you out from behind the desk. You panicked and started to move away but his grip tightened.

“Go inside,” he said. He shoved you in the office and you stumbled in the patient entrance. Hannibal and Franklyn stood up. Hannibal was keenly aware of your presence. 

“Tobias?” Franklyn asked. 

“I came to say goodbye Franklyn.” You were quiet but Hannibal’s eyes caught yours and he gave you a clear ‘stay still’ warning with his eyes. 

“What do you mean goodbye? Oh my God, is that your blood?”

“I just killed two men. The FBI came to question me about the murder.” Your head immediately snapped to him.

“What?” Your heart raced so fast you could hear it in your ears. Had he killed Will? Was Will dead? 

“You have to turn yourself in. This plane is going down. Let it be a controlled descent. You can get back up in the air again. There is rehabilitation for everyone,” Franklyn said but you barely heard it.

“Franklyn, Y/N, I want you to leave now,” Hannibal said steadily. He watched your eyes. You were worried for Will. He knew the feeling. 

“Stay right where you are,” Tobias stated. 

“You’ve done something horrible and I know you wish to god you didn’t, but you did and there’s nothing you can do to change that. Only thing you can change is your future. You’re probably scared. Probably feel like you’re all alone,” Franklyn said, taking a step forward to try and calm Tobias.

“I’m not alone,” Tobias said. 

Hannibal caught your eye. He mouthed something to you, very subtlety. ‘Turn around.’ You shook and did as you were told, turning around very carefully so that Tobias didn’t snap. 

“That’s right. You’re not alone. Nothing has happened in our friendship that you and I can’t recover from.” There was a snap. A body fell to the floor and you turned around. Franklyn was between Tobias and Hannibal, in arms reach of both of them.

“Go outside Y/N,” Hannibal said and you were gone before Tobias could reach out and grab you. You stood outside and frantically called the police, your heart still pounding, tears threatening to fall. You heard commotion in the room and waited outside, hoping it was Hannibal who came to get you. Your mind was scrambled.

The door opened and Hannibal stood in front of you. You rushed toward him, hugging him tightly. He hugged you back. He had blood all over him and you could see a dead Tobias on the other side of the room.

“If Will is dead I was scared I would lose you too,” you whispered. 

“Come inside. We’ll wait for Jack to come,” he said quietly. You nodded and let him lead you to the desk where you sat down together. You sat on the floor in front of him and you were quiet, the only noise being yours and his shuddered breaths. 

Eventually the FBI came and you stood, just beside Hannibal in case you needed someone to catch you in the worst event. All you could hear was Will’s voice in the phone call, laughing at you and joking that you had been to see a man who killed people. You shook, your hand tight on Hannibal’s shoulder. 

Jack walked inside and behind him followed Will. You let out a sigh of relief, barely able to hold back tears as he walked over quickly. He hugged you firstly and you buried your face in his neck, inhaling every part of him that you had worried you would never feel again. 

“I was worried you were dead,” Hannibal said as you pulled away.

“You had reason to worry,” Will muttered, demonstrating his wounded arm. You stood between the men and sat on the desk, still shaken. Will put his hand on yours as he leaned against the desk as well.

“Tobias Budge kills two Baltimore Police Officers, nearly kills an FBI Special Agent, and after all that his first stop is your office,” Jack said. 

“He came to kill my patient,” Hannibal said. 

“Hannibal’s patient told him he suspected a friend was involved with the murder at the symphony. Hannibal told me and I investigated. I got him involved,” Will explained. “Your patient. Is that who Tobias was serenading?” Will asked. 

“I don’t know. Franklyn knew more than he was telling me. He told Mr. Budge he didn’t have to kill anymore. Then he broke Franklyn’s neck. Then he attacked me,” Hannibal said. 

“And you killed him,” Jack said.

“Yes.”

“And this is how it happened?” Jack asked, looking at you. You were put in the spotlight and you were unprepared. Your mind flashed to Hannibal telling you to turn around, as though he knew Franklyn was going to die the second he did. 

“Yes,” you muttered. Jack nodded and moved off to study the crime scene. 

“I feel like I’ve dragged you both into my world,” Will muttered.

“I got here on my own,” Hannibal stated. 

“And I would have been here eventually,” you promised.

“I appreciate the company,” Hannibal said and you glanced at each other, shaky smiles all around.

1x09

[onlyherefortheshowmances]

TW/CW: Suicidal ideation (without intent currently).

TL/DR:  I am trying to find a doctor anywhere in the state of Pennsylvania that accepts UPMC for You (medicaid) and is willing to at least try solve to my medical mystery. Preferably a family doctor with connections to a rheumatologist and possibly neurology and/or pain management. One that will actually listen and not give up and actually care that I'm in acute pain. I feel like my own body is trying to kill me. I have for a month or more. 

I want every single blood test you can do on a person. Every possible imaging study you can do. A sleep study. Another Holter monitor. LITERRALLY EVERYTHING because I am so tired of 'try this, try this' I want to know for sure exactly what is causing this.

At this point I just need a single doctor to either tell me I'm dying (which is what it feels like is happening) or one to tell me what's actually wrong and causing all this and how we can actually treat it while dealing with the immediate pain.

I'm tired of going to ERs every week. I'm tired of doctor's who are more afraid of the DEA than they are of their patient's dying. Because I don't want to wake up with this pain tomorrow morning. I cannot live life like this. 

This pain and the fact that no one in the medical field (other than my PT) seems to care about it at all. This pain that my current PCP respond to "I want someone to actually figure out what's wrong with me." by saying "We don't know." as if it is not literally her job to figure that out. I went through the entire appointment saying "What about the pain I'm in right now?" And all that happened was she took me off Lyrica which had side effects I couldn't deal with and prescribed Savella instead and told me to come back in a week once I titrate up to the correct dosage. What about that week? I don't have enough meds from the ER to last until next Tuesday ma'am. I was there on Saturday and they are legally only allowed to prescribe 3 days work of narcotics. He did give me 10 days worth of flexeril for which I'm grateful, but that on its own isn't enough, and my PCP won't give me anything at all. I literally told her my previous family doc only checked my TSH level not T3 or T4 (thyroid hormones). Did she order the additional tests? Has she ordered any tests at all in fact? NO. And she keeps saying insomnia when I tell her I have to take the oxy and flexeril to be able to sleep through the night. THAT'S NOT INSOMNIA. THAT IS ME BEING IN SO MUCH PAIN THAT I CAN'T SLEEP. At my appointment today I told her that almost every morning when I wake up in excruciating pain, I wish I wouldn’t’ve woken up at all; that death feels like a better option and that that thought scared me as someone with a history of suicidal ideation and attempts, and she literally did not care an ounce.

My Rheumatologist keeps trying to give me prednisone which DOES NOT WORK! And says take 2 Aleve twice a day. If Aleve worked for my pain do you think I would have been to the emergency room FOUR times since March 16th? I wouldn't have requested to see you sooner if Aleve did anything.

Not one person has cared about my sudden onset fatigue spells that keep getting more frequent to the point I'm hesitant to drive very far unless absolutely necessary because one of these times I'm gonna actually pass out. That's probably what it'll take for the medical professionals to care. Me falling asleep while driving. I think this may be POTS, because I also get random bouts of 'benign' tachycardia at the most random times.

They just keep slapping labels on things instead of just actually checking or even asking me half the time. I'm about 80% sure I have EDS, but apparently the closest person that will even test let alone diagnose someone over the age of 18 is in Philadelphia and I'd need a referral from my Rheumatologist to see that person.

[aion-rsa]

Midnight Mass Ending Explained

https://ift.tt/39I2zkp

This article contains spoilers for Midnight Mass.

Ending a horror story is hard.

Perhaps no one knows that better than Mike Flanagan, the writer-director behind horror hits like Doctor Sleep, The Haunting of Hill House, and The Haunting of Bly Manor. After observing the occasional less-than-enthusiastic reaction to the endings of some of his other projects, Flanagan decided to end his latest, Netflix series Midnight Mass, on his own terms.

“I didn’t want to come up with an ending that I thought would please people,” Flanagan told Den of Geek and other outlets prior to Midnight Mass’s premiere. “I wanted to come up with the ending that would have the most to say down the line.”

So what, exactly, does the ending of Midnight Mass have to say? Let’s explain just what goes down in the conclusion of Midnight Mass and assess what it all means. 

What’s Up with Mildred Gunning and John Pruitt?

Monsignor John Pruitt a.k.a. Father Paul (Hamish Linklater) was, by all indications, a good Christian man. 

“The thing we kept coming back to is that authentically, through-and-through evil people are very rare. We’re all way more complicated. The humanity of Father Paul was something that was baked in relatively early,” Flanagan says.

Though Pruitt is not a bad man, per se, he is a deeply flawed one. A long time ago, before the “war” (probably World War II or The Korean War), Pruitt hooked up with the married Mildred Gunning and fathered their daughter Sarah Gunning out of wedlock. That is obviously a big no-no for a priest and Pruitt lived with the guilt of denying his daughter for decades. 

Pruitt finally got a chance to alleviate that guilt when he came across a curious creature in Damascus. In this fictional universe where the concept of a vampire is clearly not well known, John Pruitt made the understandable mistake of confusing a monstrous vampire for an equally monstrous angel. After all, the angels of the bible are so visually terrifying that they make a habit of telling those they visit “be not afraid.” 

Pruitt thought this angel had granted him the gift of eternal life, just like the Bible promises. He then decides to share that gift with his congregation. The priest’s major sin here though is pride. He didn’t share the angel’s gift with his congregation out of pure benevolence. He did it because he wanted many more years of life in his prime with Mildred and Sarah at his side. Catholicism means everything to Pruitt. And yet, he would cast it all aside for another chance to have the family he wanted. 

“If you showed up and asked me, I would have taken this collar off and gone with you. Gone with you anywhere in the world,” Pruitt tells Mildred after she’s been vampirified. 

That’s a touching sentiment from the artist formerly known as Father Paul but it’s unfortunately a destructive one.

“When it became clear that Paul could do bad things with pure motives, the show came into clearer focus. There’s only one character in the whole show who I think is evil and it’s not Father Paul,” Flanagan says.

Only one character who is evil? Who could Flanagan be referr….ohhh.

What Were the Vampires’ Plans?

Flanagan actually never confirms which character he sees as evil, but Bev Keane (Samantha Sloyan) seems to be the best fit…unless we count the angel, and he just seems to be a hungry, growing boy.

Bev is, let’s say, a real piece of work. As beautifully depicted by Sloyan, Bev Keane is the officious church lady who can’t keep her nose out of other people’s business. After Mildred talks some sense into John Pruitt, he understands that he and his congregation “are the wolves” and refuses to participate further. That leaves a power vacuum at the top, which Bev is more than happy to step into. 

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Now that Bev has a veritable army of superpowered vampires what does she intend to do with them? The same thing that all Bevs want to do: make more Bevs. Bev represents the worst of colonial Christianity and its historical penchant for converting all to its kingdom of heaven…through any means necessary.

When Erin Greene (Kate Siegel) finds out that Bev and friends have merely disabled the boats and not destroyed them, she realizes that their ultimate plan is to eventually take their vampire party to the mainland and create a whole planet of enlightened Christians who just happy to have an insatiable taste for blood and a severe UV-ray allergy. 

What Happens to Crockett Island?

Thankfully, Bev’s ultimate goal never comes to pass thanks to the careful plotting of the handful of human beings left in Crockett Island. Erin Greene, Sarah Gunning (Annabeth Gish), Sheriff Hassan (Rahul Kohli), and Annie Flynn (Kirstin Lehman) get to work on finishing the destruction that Bev started.

Ironically, it’s part of Bev’s plan that eventually dooms her and her kind. When one of Bev’s lackeys proposes putting out a fire that the human crew started because the whole island could burn to nothing like in ‘84, Bev’s eyes light up.

“I mean…the church didn’t burn in ‘84,” she says.

Surely this is Revelation. And Revelation means a hale mixed with fire and blood. There will be a flood of fire that ends the world and St. Patrick’s church will be the arc. That’s a great plan and all…as long as something doesn’t happen to the arc.

Welp. Sarah Gunning burns down St. Patrick’s and Sheriff Hassan and Erin Greene (with an assist from Hassan’s son) burn down the rec center. As if burning a church designated as an arc wasn’t symbolically compelling enough, recall that the rec center next to it is equally as symbolic of Bev’s greed. It was Bev who convinced Crockett Island to take the oil company’s money for ruining their island rather than pursuing litigation. And all they got out of that settlement money was that stupid rec center.

With the church and the rec center gone, there are no man-made structures for the vampires to hide from the sun in the coming morning. And that’s how an entire island of 120-ish vampires perishes simultaneously when the sun rises. 

Why Do Leeza and Warren Survive? 

All of Crockett Island perishes save for two actually. Warren Flynn (Igby Rigney) and Leeza Scarborough (Annarah Cymone) are spared thanks to some quick thinking. Putting the only two remaining non-vampirized children in harm’s way is not an option for Erin, Sarah, Hassan, and Annie. Thankfully, Warren knows of one secret canoe to reach the “Uppards” that Bev’s crew wouldn’t know about. 

The canoe doesn’t take Warren and Leeza to the mainland but it does get them away from the carnage to come. The last shot of the series is Warren and Leeza floating peacefully and Leeza announcing that she can no longer feel her legs. This means that the last bit of “angel” blood has likely left her system and with it Pruitt’s vampire legacy is over. 

Saving Warren and Leeza has practical, emotional implications for Midnight Mass’s characters but it also has some symbolic ones as well. The concept of witnessing and witnesses themselves are very important in the Bible. As a second-hand text (though purportedly with every word inspired by God) there would be no gospel without witnesses. Good news is only half the battle. Someone to witness and report on the good news is the other half. Now Warren and Leeza can report on the ultimate good news that the world is saved.

The fact that the kids survive while the adults succumb to their own adult nonsense has some major implications for Midnight Mass’s creator 

“That last moment of the next generation looking out at the ashes of what the grown ups made – that’s what my kids are gonna get no matter what,” Flanagan says. “That’s what all of our kids are gonna get. I wish it wasn’t as on fire as it it. But it really is. We’re never going to be able to explain adequately to our children what happened to the planet they inherited.”

What Happens to the Angel?

With all of Crockett Island burned to the ground, the world’s vampire nightmare is over, right? Well that depends on how well you think an angel can fly with torn wings. No, that’s not an aphorism or a poem, it’s the real question facing the end of Midnight Mass.

As if saving Warren and Leeza and upending Bev Keane’s plans weren’t enough, Erin leaves one last little gift for humanity before she dies. While the angel attacks her and drinks her sweet, sweet blood, Erin begins systematically, yet carefully cutting holes in its leathery wings. At first the angel is kind of annoyed but his hunger supersedes any level of discomfort or pain he’s feeling. 

Later on, while Warren and Leeza watch their home burn they see the angel flying away but in a halted, loopy pattern. The kids aren’t sure if the beast will have time to find shelter before the sun rises. According to Flanagan, if Midnight Mass is a parable (and he assures us it is) then the ultimate lesson of all this isn’t too hard to glean. 

“The angel doesn’t represent vampirism or horror but corruption in any belief system,” he says. “It represents fundamentalism and fanaticism. That’s never gonna go away. You might chase it away from your community for a minute. You might send it off to the sunrise and hope that that corrupting ideology will disappear. But it won’t. And the show could never show the angel die for that reason.”

With that in mind, the angel’s flawed flight pattern isn’t so much Inception’s spinning top but rather a promise that evil will find a way. And then we puny human beings will just have to find a way to stop it all over again. If that’s not Biblical then we don’t know what is.

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All seven episodes of Midnight Mass are available to stream on Netflix now.

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