#ive never been this nauseous for this long before

[sparklehoard]

Something is wrong

[cavaliercanine]

question. could getting so upset that you are not physically a certain fictional character that it makes you nauseous possibly mean you might be fictionkin

[girl-bateman]

Feeling sick! Like emotionally and whatnot

[kazuluvr]

moved out of my dorm today and traveled back home.. i am so sleepy

[yandere-daydreams]

well since you brought up gojo…

geto (who has been with a girl before) teaching gojo (pussy virgin who is eager to pop his cherry) how to fuck a woman using y/n (the cute little girl they roofied at the bar and brought home to be their demonstration doll)

just... UGHHHH. suguru showing satoru how to eat. telling him to watch close while he does it. pay attention to how he's using his tongue as he makes you cum. they sit there for hours as suguru lovingly instructs his boyfriend on how to tongue fuck you, running his fingers through his hair and reminding him that he needs to be gentle because girls are more delicate than boys. cooing all sorts of sweet nothings to his good boy as he makes you cum for the fifth agonizing time. (practice makes perfect~ suguru says)

and satorus so eager. too eager. he has a hard time containing his excitement on a normal day, but he’s going to fuck a girl for the first time tonight so he’s just that extra bit more animalistic (he is humping the bed like a bitch and snarfing up your cunt like a dog that hasn’t eaten in a year. you never know if his teeth or tongue are going to be grazing your clit at any given moment. you can no longer tell if it feels good or bad.)

by the end you’re so overstimulated you feel you might pass out, the pleasure in your tummy boiling so violently you feel nauseous. so when suguru coos out to satoru you’ve been so patient baby. such a good boy. look at how nice you made her feel~ i think she should return the favor, hm? something inside you dies

and then suguru walks satoru through fucking you step by step, instructing him on when to go faster and slower (although not even suguru can keep him from being too rough at this point), showing him how to rub your clit so you feel nice while you “make love” in that stupid saccharine voice.

when you ask why they won’t let you go the next morning, suguru tells you rather solemnly that you deflowered satoru so you can’t just leave him. you basically owe it to him to stay

i hate them (im foaming at the mouth for them. sorry for the second long ask ive been thinking about this for weeks)

okay so i read meant to respond to this normally but accidently entered into a fugue state and absolutely went hog wild all over a word document. anyway come back in exactly five hours and fifteen minutes. the lose virgin of it all got to me i suppose.

[xo2dee]

Hewwo, ive been meaning to ask

But can i request a really angsty oneshot of dante x reader(mutual pining but no one makes the first move cause they scared), where they're both demon hunters in the same organization but a mission goes wrong and reader dies? Its totally fine if you dont want to write it. Just a thought! Thank you for your time <3

PAIRING: Dante/Reader. WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ ONLY. Major Character Death, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood, Gore. WORD COUNT: 2,111.

A/N: thank you for the request! and anonie you're actually real for requesting this bc this is a high probability of an event happening to dante. and i love angst and hurt with no comfort teehee.

DMC MASTERLIST

Death and the concept of time were two things he thought about often. Usually when he sat alone at his desk lost in thought before his eyes closed to sleep, Dante’s mind would linger to those two topics and the hands he had in both of them.

And, disturbingly enough, sometimes he only thought about them when you came around.

It wasn’t like he wished death on you – no, far from it, it was more so he worried about the prospect of it happening to you way too much than he would’ve liked to admit or even think about. You were basically his partner (cough… in the coworker sense anyways), some skill you retained from someone else that he maneuvered around to make sure you were in sync on jobs together. It had not been his ideal gameplan to take in a human partner, knowing the consequences if he were ever too get too close to you and something were to happen to you (again…), but you’d been like a magnet for him, and he found it so hard to keep you at a distance in case Dante’s teasing started to become real and then the reason why his heart skipped a beat was you. He just couldn’t help himself, the want and need to retain as much humanity as he could beating him out before he was pining just for one glance from you, and he felt so very pathetic the more it went on.

Seriously… it’d taken some time and some soul searching before Dante got to that point too. 

How long had you and Dante known each other? The answer was simple: a long time; a very, long time, and long enough for Dante to realize he’d made the same mistake again that he’d done over and over.

He’d gotten attached to you – you, a human. And not that there was anything wrong with you being a human or humans in general, but there was one glaring topic about humans as a whole to Dante that made him stray away from getting too attached to them. How easy it was for humans to die – their bodies not built the way Dante’s was and subjected to more harm if they were to be hurt in any way. However, Dante had never been a stranger to that as well; Nell Goldstein’s death still weighed heavy within his mind as he could feel his throat constrict from the memory of the fire as he held her body, but every time he downed a glass of amber whiskey sitting at his desk and his eyes strayed towards the beautiful portrait of his mother perched up just in front of him reminded him why he kept humans at arm’s length and kept them safe from a distance.

Too many enemies he’d made… Too many demons around… Having someone special by his side wasn’t ideal, but Dante found himself keeping you around regardless of the gnawing in his gut that something terrible was on the horizon.

It started with a job, one you’d snatched from his hands with a grin as you read out the letter for his ears to hear, then once you’d done that and announced you’d be joining him, that was when he started to feel nauseous – and Dante did not get nauseous. Maybe it was the details in it that had him twirling a strand of his hair around his finger and him bouncing his knee (not his habit at all), or maybe it was just the feelings speaking for him that was muddling his mind, but he pushed them to the side at seeing your excitement for it and let the stutter in his heart take over what his gut was telling him. It paid well too, and that was enough to give you your pay before he paid for any damages and then blew it on junk food, but that still didn’t quell Dante’s nerves for whatever they were telling him. Instead he focused on you at least, entrapped in your smile and the scent of your shampoo to soothe him for the time being.

And perhaps… that had been the issue in itself – he was too distracted.

The job was easy enough as well, almost boring if he was being serious with himself, yet that itch was ever so persistent. He kept his eye on you of course, watching you move nearly flawlessly from the corner of his eyes, multitasking like he usually did before it got too hectic for him to keep you in his line of sight. Hordes of demons were the worst, especially when they liked teleport and had more speed than strength, but you were a good enough demon hunter by yourself so he was normally eager to let you do your own thing – yet, even as he grunted and flipped the Rebellion around in his hands until the blade embedded itself into throat of another, something told him to not look away.

However, even he had to maintain his focus when fighting demons. Especially when he decided to eventually turn his back to despite all the warnings his instincts had been giving him. He was never one to ignore them, but he was also one to keep you as a safe and protected as he could, so he figured if turning his back to you for just a moment to clear the area of what he could to keep them off your back, it was a better alternate and a way to quell the sickness brewing within his gut. Maybe if just a for a moment, he could stop the unease ripping into his throat.

And so, Dante turned his back to you, taking his eyes off of you for just a few moments to clear the path of any heading your way. And he learned that he been another of his greatest mistakes.

Dante hadn’t been looking when it happened, Ebony’s rounds embedded into the skull of one demon as he gutted another with the Rebellion, but something awful cracked in his ears before he heard it – a nasty slick, like flesh being opened unwarranted before the gurgled whimper reached his ears next, then the nausea from before heightened tenfold when he smelt it. Blood… Through all the demonic innards spattered across the pavement, the scent of the forest in the sky, and then the lingering scent of your shampoo, he could smell blood. And it wasn’t just anyone’s blood – it was human blood.

Your blood.

“Shit.”

An understatement of a reaction at best, but Dante was thinking it was only a scratch from a talon too deep making it bleed, and once he’d disposed of them all in an irritated gait full of speed and a raw display of strength before he got to set his sights on you, he realized how big an underreaction it actually had been. You’d still managed to put up a fight against the demon that had attacked you, and through all the blood and the viscera spattered along the ground, Dante’s dread and fear grew to an all time high once he noticed the position of your body and the demon you had managed to kill in the process. And then he understood just why the scent of your blood had been so strong…

The claws had all but shredded through your abdomen enough plunge past your organs and carve out your spine, effectively impaling you – effectively destroying you. The noise he had heard had been the demon attacking you, and you hadn’t even screamed the slightest bit when it happened… but Dante was sure the crack in his ears had been the sound of your spine breaking in half when it’s hand embedded itself way too deep and too hard through you. You were a goner before he even realized it, but Dante was too hard-pressed to get to you as he kicked the corpse of the demon away from you the moment he was near and folded you into his embrace. He was on autopilot for the moment, but the mere seconds later he could feel death’s embrace already begin to chill your skin.

With you cradled in his arms he watched the gurgle of blood spit up from your mouth as you tried to speak, wincing himself at the wet sound from your throat before he tried to reassure you, “Hey, hey, hey, you’re alright…” It was lies, and even with how fast he was, Dante would never make it in time to get you help… Not with he rate that you were bleeding and the severity of your injury. You were nearly… in half… A feat he could pull himself together from, but not one you could do.

A wet cough spat a round of blood onto his shirt, making him lean back onto the tree behind him as he slid to sit and to make you any more comfortable before you sighed and rolled your head against his chest with slowing breaths. “Dante… I can’t feel my legs.”

Maybe it was then he understood the gravity of the situation, then he felt the sting in his eyes before it was rapidly blinked it away in favor of looking at what he had done head-on. If only he had gotten to you in time… you wouldn’t be bleeding out dying in his arms, looking up at him with a smile that shouldn’t have looked as warm as it felt for his heart. He could only sigh as his heart stuttered in a song of melancholic familiarity, resting his cheek atop your head as he pulled further into his body – almost hoping the heat from his body would give you some type of comfort. “I know.”

You hummed, and surprisingly had enough strength to place your hand over his for your own sense of comfort as you started to speak a little quieter, “I don’t regret anything.”

Your hand was cold, and your heartbeat was slowing down. Dante closed his eyes, savoring the scent of your shampoo and the sound of your heartbeat for one last time. “I know.”

“And it’s not your fault…” He had no answer for that, not trusting himself enough to say the right thing for you in the moment of lasting need, and he couldn’t bring himself to tell you just how wrong you were. Though when he didn’t answer you for a few seconds, you sighed again and the hold you had on his hand slightly loosened as you head began to sag in its spot. It would only be moments before you were gone… However, you had one last parting gift that completely shattered him and his heart and ruined his outlook for the rest of the time he was alive. “Dante, know that I’ve loved you for a long time.”

He couldn’t help the shaky laugh at the confession, heart shattered and mind elated at the same time for the recuperation of his hidden feelings that he had been too late to give. Perhaps it was his bad luck in the end, or maybe he was the universe’s cosmic plaything, because as gratifying as it was to hear that come from you, he couldn’t help but hate himself in the end for it. “How cruel… Leavin’ a man like this.”

Your last breath was wet, ragged, and soft as he heard the smile in your voice before you left him from the presence of one final joke. “You can forgive me… can’t you?”

Always. “…Yeah.”

Your body went lax the moment he said it, the finality in the beat of your heart a sound that would haunt him in his nightmares for the rest of his life as he could only pull you closer and hold you for the first time… and the last. You were human. Maybe it was to be expected, or maybe that’s what he got for getting involved into humans lives instead of keeping them safe from a distance. Death followed him everywhere, no one was safe. Dante only sighed as the sting in his eyes tightened his throat with them, not sure how long he would stay there with you until he was ready to carry you back, before he swore off any more attachments in the future. Not when he’d lost the one person he’d found and loved – and loved him back. Then again, it was his fault… Wasn’t it?

He only looked to the night sky, the stars in their betrayal beautiful before a lone one seemed to die out, taking you and the entirely of Dante’s heart with it.

And I love you too. Always.

[skymar13]

Helping 1A with the post war effects

:angst/comfort

Bakugo

When bakugo started to lose his hearing you thought it’d be ideal and give him some reassurance to learn sign to be able to freely communicate with him as well as help him interact with his classmates as well.

Izuku

Izuku had always had scars on his body but now they had almost tripled to the point his body was more scar than skin. When yall would cuddle you’d lightly touch his scars whispering how beautiful they were making him feel less insecure and grounded.

Denki

When Denki came back his brain was fried and he’d have random spells where he would just blank out. The rest of the class made jokes about it but when this happened you’d rub his back waiting for him to come back to reality and when he did he’d js look at you with sorrowful eyes.

Kirishima

Kirishima thought he was unbreakable but when he started falling apart during the war and was actually getting marked up he couldn’t help but feel useless. You stop by to change out his bandages and make him food since he refused to leave and for this he thanked you to no end

Mina

She had carefully manipulated her quirk all the time. Mina had never gotten chemical burns until the battle. Now she had to deal with painful light pink marks across her body. (I have vitiligo so I relate to the insecurity) she hated them thinking they were disgusting and she tried to hide them until you’d kiss each one carefully complementing their shapes and color.

Iida

His engines had blown and were terribly sore it hurt to walk. So you never let iida walk not even to fetch his water bottle that was across the room. You’d taken care of him u til he healed without a question and for this he was forever indebted.

Sero

His arms had been sore and he was all banged up from the falls he’d endured. Sero sat on the sink letting you change his bandages and lay kisses on them afterwards. He leant in to kiss you lips hissing in pain.

Ururaka

Poor had been vomiting all day. Ururaka couldn’t even stand straight without getting nauseous. And even if it was gross you held the bag or pulled her hair back and brought her water and liquid ivs or snacks to make sure she wouldn’t get sick.

Tsuyu

Her tongue had been sliced up to the Gods blood constantly spilling from her mouth. Every time you noticed tsu beginning to bleed you brought her hydrogen peroxide and cleaned her wounds.

Jirou

Her ears had been ringing all day none stop causing her so many head aches. Jirou had experienced too many loud sounds for way too long. The best way you could help was be her quiet you brought her noise canceling headphones and watched 1950s silent movies.

Todoroki

He’d had freezer burns and regular burns all over his body. Todoroki was constantly shaking from the pain he couldn’t touch anything before his nerves would flare up. You’d brought him some aloe Vera and Tylenol you wouldn’t touch him but you stayed with him and that’s all he could ask for.

Tokoyami

He had gotten pretty beaten up back there and shadow hadn’t helped. Tokoyami had barely any control over dark shadow to the point he stopped trying. Luckily you were able to patch him up and calm dark shadow with your words of love and treats.

Hitoshi

He had so many head aches from over use of his quirk. So you stayed in hitoshis dorm making it dark and quiet with just the tv playing as you let him nap with Tylenol on the bed side waiting for him.

Momo

She’d almost completely wrecked her whole body. Momo had felt weak for a while after barely being able to walk across her room without feeling dizzy and nauseated. You brought her some medicine and food and kept her entertained u til she felt better.

[slxtarchive]

𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 ✦ 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. where sam was there to help y/n when she had a rough day and resorted to unwinding in a not-so-healthy way.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. okay so i was just thinking for a sam golbach fic reader relapses (self harm) cuz their mind has been getting too much lately, and maybe sam helps them clean up and then helps take care of them and makes them feel loved nd just like lets them know that they don't need to do that because he's there from now on?? if that makes sense. also maybe not an established romantic relationship but maybe it ends up that way? like sam tells reader he doesn't know what he'd do with himself if anything happened to them he just cares a lot about them and yeah

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. ANGST ! third person pov, talks of self harm, relapsing, descriptive literature, friend!sam, friends to lovers.

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. if anybody needs anyone to talk to i’m here! 🤍 sorry this took so long to post & write! this one hit really personal for me but id okay to say ive healed & im continuing to heal from my past. if anyone is going through similar hardships, you can get through it! i believe, love, & support you always.

y/n told herself she wouldn’t put herself in this position again. she wouldn’t.. but sometimes things don’t go as planned.

she had tried to stay strong, to stop letting her mind control every action she took; it just became too much. she sat on the cold tile floor of her bathroom, tears making their way down her flushed face. she gripped the item as she took the first swipe, lightly but firm enough.

just stop. she told herself. her hand shook as she went to repeat the action. she looked at her skin i just need to feel something, she thought. something other than what im feeling now.

she had been doing so good but somehow found herself back at square one. all that work that she had done was all gone. she felt hopeless, as if this never ending black hole of despair would stay with her for the rest of her life.

she took a minute to think on her life and what could have went wrong to cause her to relapse. all those thoughts had no specific effect on relapsing, its just her brain had begun to spin a web that caused her to get stuck in her head all day. what else can i do? she thought as she took another swipe at her skin. she planned on continuing until she heard her bedroom door open.

her heart dropped to her ass. “y/n..?” the voice had confusion laced in their voice.

sam.

it was sam.

the blonde boy was one of the things that y/n had in her life that truly made her happy. he was her best friend. she never told him that but she truly meant that with every fiber of her being.

y/n quickly wiped her tears when she heard the footsteps come closer to the bathroom. wiping the tears would make the tear stains disappear but the thing about breaking down, you’re left with that struggle of trying to catch your breath.

she couldn’t stop gasping, trying to breathe calm and collectively. that’s why as sam stopped right beside the bathroom. he heard a small gasp escape her lips that caught his attention.

his eyebrows raised in confusion. he put his head beside the door trying to hear something else. “uh.. y/n? you in there?” he knocked. he received no answer. multiple questions and thoughts ran through his mind before he opened the door.

sam had seen many things in his life, traumatic even, but this — it was like his heart had jumped, dropped, did a tumble, and self destructed all in the span of 3 seconds. he instantly became nauseous at the sight of y/n holding a blade to her forearm. the small cuts that had caught his eye before she covered her arm and hid the blade had his blood run cold.!

the second y/n had been caught she felt guilty and embarrassed. she felt pathetic, like she wasn’t strong enough to handle the hard reality of the real world. immediately, she stood up and faced sam. “i-im sorry you weren’t supposed to see that.. it’s not what it looks like.” she sniffled trying to contain her tears. “i… it just, lately everything has been so crazy and i haven’t … i haven’t done this in a while but… but everything has just been… too much.” she rambled out, trying to explain herself.

sam’s face of confusion faltered. he thought about her words. the way she mentioned in a while had him wondering what caused her to relapse and fall back into this situation. he scanned her face. she’s too pure to be suffering like this. he paused thinking of what to say but truly all that he wanted to do was give her a hug. so that’s what he did.

he pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her protectively. she melted into his touch. her lip quivered as she wrapped her own arms around him. her body shook as more tears cascaded down her face.

sam felt his own eyes sting with tears. “i’m sorry.” he choked up. “i’m sorry you’ve been going through all of this alone.” he rested his cheek on her head closing his eyes trying to stay strong for her.

y/n hasn’t said anything, still feeling guilty. sam pulled away and looked down at the floor seeing the blade and a tissue beside it. he picked them up and threw both away.

he turned back to y/n who had a tired look on her face. “as long as i’m here nothing will hurt you, okay? i will be here for you. you can depend on me. you don’t need to do this anymore to yourself y/n, i won’t let you.” he took her face into his hands. “i promise, i love you and im always here for you no matter what.”

y/n’s heart raced as sam’s words really effected her. she nodded pursing her lips and biting her cheek.

he brought her head to his mouth and pressed a light kiss on her forehead. “i mean it y/n. i don’t know what i’d do with myself without you. you complete me.”

y/n’s eyes scanned sam’s face noticing how his own eyes began to water and become puffy. the scene before her causing her throat to close. “m’sorry i promise i wont do it anymore. i love you sam and… fuck — i know i shouldn’t be doing that. i just didn’t know what else to do.” she leaned against his chest.

“i know, i know baby but from now on you can talk to me about it. about anything. i care so much about you. you truly have no idea how much i…” he stopped himself not wanting to overwhelm her. “just know you mean the world to me. you are and have been my priority since we met and that’s never going to change.” the reassuring words causing y/n to relax.

y/n started to get inside her head, wondering what if he got tired of her, if he’d leave her, what she’d do or how she’d feel if that happened — or even worse; if she would be a burden to sam.

sam noticed y/n zoning out. “hey, tell me what you’re thinking please.” his hands reached down to grab her own.

she took a deep breath. c’mon y/n. she blinked a couple times trying to sort her thoughts. “don’t wanna be a burden to you.” she admitted to which sam immediately shook his head.

sam brought her hands to his mouth kissing her knuckles. “you could never ever be a burden to me. you keep me pushing through every day because i want to be the best for you. to be the best friend you deserve and… and whatever the future may hold for us — i want you there always, okay? don’t ever forget that.”

his words wavered through the air and stood there so you could process what he truly meant. you thought on it, picking up some hidden message that you’d both communicate about later but as of now, he truly helped you feel understood and seen. as long as you had him you’d feel physically, mentally, and emotionally secure and protected.

© slxtarchive

[23fallencomets]

love me gently (or not at all) iv

pt iv, this one is big at 1k words but! we get slightly possessive oscar and a special character at the end!!

Oscar manages to get a duffel bag together. The others had been more than happy to offer some of their things up for Logan’s heat, things they knew Logan liked from their dens or nests. A stuffed moose from Lance, a body pillow from Esteban, an oversized sweater from Yuki, a soft blanket from Checo, a thick comforter from Alex and George’s nest and one of Franco’s many stuffed animals.

Now he was sitting in his car, staring down at Kyle’s number. They had exchanged numbers back when Logan was still with the Power-Dixon pack and now, after years he presses on the phone icon.

It almost feels like a taunt, the ring-ring-ring echoing around his car. He almost expects to be sent to voicemail but Kyle’s voice filters through, confused and a bit agitated.

“Hello?”

Fuck, Oscar thinks as he clears his throat, “Hey Kyle, it’s Oscar.” The silence hangs between them as Oscar clears his throat again, “I know your Pack Alpha said that we couldn’t see Logan until after his heat, but I was hoping to drop some things off?”

“You—he has things here.”

Oscar picks at the fraying material of his steering wheel, Logan had told him to buy a cover for it but he kept on forgetting, “I know, but it’s just things from our side of the pack, y’know, the ones that do want him.”

There’s a heavy sigh from Kyle’s side, clearly not believing him, “Okay, I’ll talk to Will and Scott, I’ll text you in a bit.”

It makes Oscar nauseous, the ten minutes it takes for Kyle to get back to him. Him and Logan had been stuck together for years in different packs. Once they got old enough to leave their home packs, they were invited by the Hamilton-Vettel pack. Sebastian had a soft spot for Logan, but his job as Pack Omega had him out of the house more than anyone—especially Lewis—liked.

Oscar cringes in realization: no one has told Seb that Logan left, unless Dixon got in contact with him.

When the message does come through with confirmation that the Power-Dixon pack was giving him permission to see Logan, it makes something in Oscar rankle. He’s never had to have permission to see Logan and their new reality is starting to crash down on Oscar.

Logan’s new pack house was almost three hours from the Hamilton-Vettel pack house, nestled at the base of a mountain, miles of forestry and fields behind them.

Oscar drives in near silence until he reaches the long driveway up to the house. He puts the car in park, reaching over to the glove box and pulling out a slim box. Sitting in the middle of the velvet interior is a small pendent LS OP inscribed on the back. He unclips the chain he had put on after Logan left, sliding the pendent on before carefully placing the chain back inside.

The drive up seems calmer now as the house comes into view, a few people sitting outside. He parks the car, getting out and opening the trunk, pulling the duffel bag out. He had put a few of his things in too, the idea of Logan not smelling like him almost too much to bear.

Logan is one of the few people waiting outside, looking well-rested and content as he’s flanked by Rossi and Nolan. Oscar had met them in passing, an almost forgettable memory as he stood a few feet from Logan.

His omega Logan smiles at him, stepping down to pull Oscar into a hug. Under all the new scents, Oscar is able to pinpoint Logan’s scent: damp earth, water lilies and cedar wood.

“I brought you some stuff,” Oscar says, voice softened as Logan pulls away. Oscar simultaneously loves and hates how content Logan looks. How could they not see how bad Logan was struggling with Nico’s rejection when they spent hours together? It makes Oscar’s irritation with the older omega spike as he hands the bag off to Logan.

“Thank you,” Logan says, refusing to let go of Oscar’s hands, “How’s everyone?” He asks almost a little nervously.

Oscar shrugs, “Jenson and Nico got into it, Alex and I yelled at them because they were making it about themselves rather than you.” He steps back a bit and presents Logan with the slim box, “And I still have every intention to continue courting you.”

Logan looks surprised, gingerly grabbing the box and opening it. Oscar smiles when Logan gently picks up the chain, the pendant glinting.

“I didn’t think—put it on me?” Logan asks, whatever he was going to say being stopped as he hands the chain to Oscar and turns around.

As Oscar clips the clasp, a pleasant buzz thrums under his skin as Logan turns back around, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy.

With Logan in his arms, Oscar feels like almost everything is right in the world.

☆☆☆

Sebastian enters the pack house a little exhausted. He loved his position, but he misses home and his pups more as the trips drag on. It’s the loud silence that keeps him up; his pack house is never silent, not when a million and one things can be going on at the same time.

He can hear faint arguing from and he ignores the ache in his feet as he climbs the stairs, seeing Logan’s door open. Something settles in Sebastian’s chest as he heads towards it, but instead of seeing his pup, he finds a sad pack pile in the middle of an empty room. His nose twitches at the lack of Logan’s scent, like if they had left the window open and had sprayed a scent neutralizer.

Feeling the pit in his stomach grow, he makes his way to Lewis’s office where the arguing gets louder, almost vicious. He surprised to hear Alex yelling—the alpha hardly raises his voice as it is—but everyone becomes silent when he pushes the door open, his mate standing in surprise.

“Seb!” Lewis says, brown eyes wide in surprise before flickering between Jenson and Nico.

“Where’s Logan?”

[pbaz7]

IVE MISSED U SO MUCH AUTHOR AND I'VE BEEN TOLD THIS CHAPER IS freaky SO LIKE LET'S GO

shared calendar on her phone

oh so yall LOCKED LOCKED

ducked into a flower shop that was right on the corner.

gay👆

“She’s in her office—I’ll buzz you in.”

damn poor kelly prolly has to buzz her in like multiple times a day

Azzi in a low squat, her knees pressed together tightly because of the skirt she had on,

paige take a deep breath babe

“Anybody ever tell you how sexy you look in a skirt?”

i don't think she took her deep breath

Paige’s eyes raking over her shamelessly as she did. “Mmm, I’m definitely lucky.”

i can see the eye fucking through my screen i fear

“I missed you,” Paige whispered into the kiss.

really? i never would have guessed that

Azzi began to walk them back toward her desk, her steps guided by instinct and Paige’s gentle pressure.

yo... not in the office guys

With her fingers still holding Paige, she mumbled distractedly, “I’m not hungry.”

i think ur hungry maybe just not for food😬

her fingers sliding up the curve of Paige’s bicep,

reminding me paige has NICE BICEPS is just as good as smut tbh

“Promise I’mma get you right later,”

oh dont worry babe we know

Paige shrugged casually. “I’ll be aight. I wanna take you out.”

paige babe pls prioritize urself for once

watching Azzi try—and fail—to go back to being nonchalant.

neither of them of nonchalant final bosses no matter WHAT they want to claim

Paige just watched her with a soft smile, clearly amused. “I missed you, pretty girl.”

this is so gay it makes me nauseous (i just want a gf)

Paige’s voice softened as she looked down at Azzi

as always cuz that's princess

“I can’t touch you through a screen.”

oh paige can u try not being horny for a second

Azzi’s eyes flicked to Paige’s lips. “Good. You can have me later… Maybe.”

maybe? who was protesting eating lunch like 3 minutes ago?

“Only when I’m in love.”

ugh

who’s an athlete and doesn’t eat enough,

oh she eats PLENTLY

“Preciate you, man.”

she talks like a suburban dad in an uber

As soon as they were alone, Paige turned toward Azzi, grinning. “You look good.”

a given

“All of a sudden it looks better when I know I can take it off you soon.”

this word work on me i fear

Then you looked at me and winked.”

oh yep that's defintley paige

But only ‘cause you looked too good for me to pretend like I care about what a wine’s body means. Specially when yours was right there.”

i just KNOW she thought she cooked with that one

“Like you already undressed me in your head twice.”

only twice?

“You tryna out-flirt me right now?”

i think she is and i think shes succeeding

Then casually Azzi rested her hand on Paige’s thigh.

paige remember that deep breath you didnt take earlier? take it now.

Paige cleared her throat and took the glass in front of her, eyeing Azzi sideways. “Spice on the finish, huh?” Azzi glanced at her over the rim of her glass. “Sounds familiar.”

PARDON ME?

Azzi didn’t know what she was getting into.

ok foreshadowing

Paige leaned in closer. “I keep picturing you in that skirt on my lap… whispering in my ear...”

um! public place! people! witnesses! people with ears! remember?

“You keep sweet-talking me and we’re going to finish the night early.”

someone call sam

She loved it.

HELL YEAH LET'S SEE ANGRY ON-THE-COURT P TONIGHT just not on the court

“Swear I don’t care about what he’s describing, I’m just tryna remember what you taste like. Been too long.”

the poor waiter.

“before I actually get up and make us leave early.”

don't threaten her with a good time babe

She tossed them on the table—enough to cover the wine and leave a tip that was more than generous.

yeah i figured this was gonna have to end sometime soon

“You look too fucking good, baby,” Paige murmurs, her lips grazing Azzi’s jaw as she speaks.

UM SO THE DRIVER??

none of her current thoughts are gentle. None of them are respectful.

so let's see 'em

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to fuck you this bad, baby,” Paige whispered, her voice rough and broken at the edges.

OKAY THEN! ANYWAYS!

her breath catching in her throat before melting into a quiet moan that slipped out without permission.

i am praying to god right now that sam has noise cancelling headphones on or something

but even her breathy voice didn’t sound convince

they aren't doing this in the car... that they're NOT ALONE in. RIGHT?.

This one was different—urgent and impatient, like they were trying to make up for every second they’d spent apart over the last week and a half.

i can't believe this is happenign... who am i kidding yes i can

By the time Azzi reached the last button, her fingers were already pushing the fabric off Paige’s shoulders,

YO WE ARE STILL IN THE FUCKING CAR.

ok guess im going now like what??

um. i don't think i can legally speak on what i just read.

um so this chapter changed me as a person.

heat check? what's that. like genuinley holy shit this was INSANE.

i kept gasping while reading this and scaring my dog but those are the prices we have to pay!

ly author and... just holy shit.

-🍉

oh so yall LOCKED LOCKED

exactly you get it

i don't think she took her deep breath

the deep breath was definitely not taken

reminding me paige has NICE BICEPS is just as good as smut tbh

hm 🤨

this word work on me i fear

WHY does everyone keep saying that ?!?!

i can't believe this is happenign... who am i kidding yes i can

your emotions changing every two seconds is sending me

um. i don't think i can legally speak on what i just read.

😭😭understandable

um so this chapter changed me as a person. heat check? what's that. like genuinley holy shit this was INSANE.

i told you !!!!

[wellplacedbanana]

I’ve seen a few posts recently talking about how important it is for us to share our tips for dealing chronic illness with each other, and I’ve realized that as a freakishly avid community enthusiast, I’ve been falling down on the job. So, I present

Wellplacedbanana’s Ridiculously Long List of Tips for All Things Chronic Illness (Curated Over 8+ Years):

Infusion Centers

Headed to an infusion center to get that sweet sweet (expensive as hell) live-saving medication pumped directly into your veins? Here’s what I do.

Bring headphones or earplugs. Most infusion centers try to maintain a semblance of quiet for the patients, but it can get loud fast—beeping IVs, pulse ox monitors, loud families, codes. Some infusion centers do pods of multiple people and some do individual bays, so this can affect noise levels.

Drink lots of water before if you have to get an IV placed. Don’t worry too much about bringing a water bottle because they’ll give you one when you get there. (Of course, if you have something like POTS and need more intense hydration, bring the damn water bottle.) If you’re not hydrated and they can’t find a vein, they’ll call in the ultrasound tech, and they’ll bring the longest IV needle you’ve ever seen. It hurts. Drink water.

Bring a book or your Switch or something else to entertain you, but don’t expect to actually do it. I tried bringing papers to edit the first time because I was like “Oh it’s an hour and a half of uninterrupted free time. I can get so much done!” I was wrong. The nurses are constantly checking in for vitals, the unit can be loud, and I spent the whole time trying not to vomit everywhere. Different infusions will have different side affects. Knowing what yours might be will help you plan for what you want to bring. Knowing how long your infusion will be can also help. Most infusion centers have to keep you 20-45 minutes after your first dose of a new medication to make sure you don’t have an allergic reaction, so factor that into your time too.

If you’re in a pod with other patients who’re friendly and if you feel up to it, don’t be afraid to talk with them. Lots of them are lonely, bored, interested in other people, etc. I met an elderly Thai lady one time who had been there for three hours and would be there for another four AFTER I left. We talked about her husband and her kids, and she listened to me talk about punctuation as style in prose. It made me feel less alone in the medical system and helped distract me from the nausea.

Conversely, if you don’t want to interact with anyone, snap on those headphones and block everything out. The nurses will get your attention if they need you. Don’t worry about staying lucid. Your job is to get the infusion and do what’s best for you.

You can bring snacks if you want, but most units/centers will have something to munch on or can order you something from the cafeteria if you’re at a hospital. Also the medication and the smells in the unit always make me nauseous, so it’s kind of a waste for me to bother pulling together food before I leave. You can always eat before or plan to get something on the way back. Going through a drive thru to get something with protein is my go to.

If possible, schedule your next appointment while you’re there. I have to go every three months, so I schedule the next one while I’m there, and then I never have to make any fucking phone calls. Phone calls are the worst.

My last and most important tip: ask the nurses when you need something. Blankets, water, snacks, pain meds, the lights turned off. If they can’t do it, they’ll tell you. They’d rather have you ask and have to say no, then you be uncomfortable. Don’t suffer if there might be a solution.

Dealing with Shitty Doctors

There are shitty doctors everywhere, in every specialty and every hospital system. It sucks, and you can do your best to avoid them, but most chronically ill patients will have to put up with one at some point. Here are my suggestions:

If they’re refusing to acknowledge one of your symptoms is a problem (won’t order tests, won’t refer you out, won’t ask any questions), tell them it’s affect your Activities of Daily Living. ADLs are one of the ways doctors measure severity of symptoms and quality of life. ADLs are the absolutely essential things you need to do to be a functioning human: eat, shower, get dressed, brush your teeth. ADLs are a trigger word for most doctors. Physical therapists and occupational therapists were created specifically to help patients achieve their ADLs. If you’re having severe joint paint, say it’s affecting you’re ability to shower and dress in the morning. If you have intense fatigue, say you’re too tired all the time to cook food to eat or even brush your teeth before bed. Tell them your symptoms are affecting your quality of life and your ability to function daily. This won’t always work, but it’s a good starting place. (A side note: if you have have to submit an insurance appeal for something that was denied, citing ADLs as a reason to receive the treatment/medical equipment/doctors visit, will often spur them into action. Sometimes, it’ll just make them ask more questions, but questions are better than flat out denial. This was a very helpful tactic when I was trying to get my manual wheelchair approved. I told them I was unable to complete my ADLs and it was affecting my quality of life, and they eventually came around. It’s also important to remember that ADLs are only the most base tasks that you need to live. Driving, working, socializing—those aren’t included in ADLs, and insurance especially will laugh in your face if you try to say you need medical equipment for something like that.)

Lots of doctors, consciously or unconsciously, will judge how you’re actually feeling by your mood in an appointment. I had a pediatric neurologist who couldn’t be convinced that my pain was at an 8 because I would laugh with my mom in the waiting room. Eight months in, I started getting real quiet, not talking, crying when he talked, all that shit, and he was so fucking flummoxed. He was like “what changed?? Are you depressed??” And I had to remind him that I was thirteen with a severe shoulder inure that hurt every time I breathed. Doctors will judge you based on how you look and how you present. It’s horrible, but it’s true. Present to them in the way that represents what they’d expect to see for your symptoms.

Whatever you do, don’t say anything (or send any snappy messages) that might be considered aggressive until you are absolutely, 100% positive you will never ever have to see them again. I’ve had a few doctors that said ridiculously horrible things to me. It’s tempting to send them a message about how shitty they’ve been or how much they’ve hurt you, but it won’t help. Shitty doctors have fragile egos and they don’t like to be challenged. They won’t take this well, and they’ll mark you as attention seeking, emotional, mentally unstable—you name it. When your other doctors call to ask questions about symptoms, etc, they’ll start talking shit, and everything gets complicated. This might sound dramatic to anyone who hasn’t seen it happen, but honestly, the medical system abuses emotion and mental illness to discard patients that aren’t afraid to advocate for themselves, and this is one of the least immoral ways they do it.

Remember that you don’t owe your doctors anything (except basic human decency). If they ask you to do something and you can’t or don’t want to, don’t. My psychiatrist was really fixated on me getting a light box to cure my depression. I did Not want to do that, so I didn’t. Sometimes, your doctors won’t move on to further treatment or tests until you try it, but most of the time you can say, “that’s not something I’m able to do right now. Let’s explore further options,” and they’ll move on.

Remember that learning to advocate for yourself takes years of practice. Just do your best, and try not to blame yourself for the ways you get mistreated. Therapy is the best investment I’ve ever made for this. It’s helped me learn how to advocate and how to process medical trauma.

Medication

For gods sake, take the as needed medication when you have a migraine or if you’re nauseous. Don’t punish yourself.

This might seem like a no brainer, but if you’re traveling and you’re going to take your medication bottles with you, put them in a ziplock bag. They will definitely open in your suitcase, and you’ll have to pick Levothyroxine out of your socks.

If a medication gives you icky side effects, tell your doctor and ask if there’s something that doesn’t do that. For me personally, it’s hard to find medication that works at all, so I often get stuck with things that make me feel like shit. But it doesn’t hurt to ask. Sometimes new medications come out or they dig up old ones.

Some medications come in dissolvable tablets or suppositories. They’re not fun, but if you have trouble swallowing pills, this is a good way to go. Again, communicate with your doctor about these things. I know that there are Scopolamine patches for nausea too. I’ve never used them before, but it might be worth looking into if need easy nausea relief.

All Things Wheelchair

Man, wheelchairs suck, but they’re also amazing. If you find yourself using one, you’ll encounter a steep learning curve.

If you’re not super buff when you first start, it’ll seem impossible to go up even a slight incline. Your arms will get stronger the more you move around, but it might take time. I eventually bit the bullet and started doing personal training. I’m lucky that I can afford it, and I know it’s not an option for everyone, but if you can, find a trainer who won’t saying anything shitty and who’s willing to accommodate. I worked with a queer-owned gym to find someone I was comfortable with. We do upper body strength training, and it gives me a chance to move my body more often. I still can’t go up big hills, but I feel infinitely more mobile. Give yourself time to adjust to the new strain on your body, even if you don’t do training for it. You’ll be sore in the beginning. Ice and heat will be your friends after long days. If your wrists start hurting a lot, you’re not wheeling correctly, and you should ask your doctor for a referral to PT or OT. Oh and your hands will be fucked for the first few weeks. I bought special wheelchair gloves to try to combat this, but it just made it harder for me to maneuver. Now I only use the gloves if it’s cold, if I’m going down hills, or in the rain/snow. (But seriously, if you’re going down steep hills, use traction gloves.)

Learn to pop a wheelie as soon as possible. It’s such a helpful skill. If you get good enough, you’ll be able to get up over single steps and traverse shitty pavement.

If your wheelchair has a cushion, then it has a cushion cover. Wash it.

Time for the grossest part: cutting hair out of your caster wheels. I hate this. I hate it so much. It’s fucking disgusting, but you have to do it. It’ll fuck up your wheels and make it harder to maneuver. Also it’s just gross to have all that nasty hair hanging out by your feet. Get yourself a long pair of thin scissors and cut all that hair out every week or every two weeks. If you don’t have long hair or live with people who have long hair, then you might be able to wait longer. You should also sanitize your hand rims while you’re at it. Hand sanitizer or Clorox wipes are great for this.

You’ll notice that it’s fucking impossible to carry shopping baskets or suitcases if you use a manual chair. Some people try to balance them on their laps or wedge them onto their footplates, but it’s pretty precarious. I got these weird peg things that attach to the frame. You can place a basket or your bag on it and still keep your hands free. Here’s the link for the ones I got, but it depends on your make and model, so do some research and call some different companies before buying anything. Also, make sure to measure the distance between the two sides of your frame to make sure a basket will be able to balance on the two pegs. Your frame might be too wide for this. Mine is, but I bought a special basket to take to the store that’s wide enough to reach across.

Lots of people will offer to push you. Some won’t even offer; they’ll just grab on and take you in whatever direction. It’s insanely invasive and dehumanizing. Don’t be afraid to put on your breaks if someone does this. I can stand and take small steps, so sometime I just get up and stare at them. You can also buy covers for your handles that have spikes so people can’t grab them. I know some wheelchair users who like it when people offer to push them. That’s good too! Take the help if you want it. Just remember to prioritize your safety and comfort. I had a big debate with another disabled person about whether it was infantilizing for someone to offer to hold open the door for us. I’m firmly on the side that they can offer, and I can say no, and they can listen, and then we can both appreciate the moment of shared humanity between us. They did not agree. Disabled people fight and disagree all the time because we’re not all carbon copies of each other. That’s okay! Just be respectful.

Getting a customized manual wheelchair was one of the single most stressful things I had to deal with. Insurance doesn’t like to pay for them because it’s about 3-12k, depending on the specifications and add-ons. But it’s also been the most liberating thing I’ve done since getting my mobility stripped from me. I’m not sure how it works for everyone, but I got a referral from my doctor to a custom wheelchair company. From there, they took measurements, discussed needs, and showed me different models. It’s going to be really really difficult to know what you want the first time. There’s a lot of different brands and customizations, so do your research and talk in depth with whoever’s making your chair. Ultra lite rigid frames are my favorite because they’re usually only 15-40 pounds, and the wheels can come off to make it even lighter. However, rigid frames don’t fold together in the middle like classic manual wheelchairs that you might find at a hospital or get at a rental company. They can be difficult to fit in the backseat of a car or in some trunks, so make sure to measure any cars you ride in regularly. Some people prefer to have tilted wheels so they can turn easier. Some people don’t want anything to do with that. Depending on your mobility and the people in your life, you might choose not to add push handles to your chair. I added some to mine because I often get dizzy, and it’s helpful to have handles in case I need someone to push me out of the crosswalk or into the shade. People who are highly independent and extremely strong might not want push handles because they won’t need help up steep hills. I like my handles a lot; however, my chair back is shorter than a standard wheelchair because it helps increase range of motion when I’m wheeling, so my push handles are lower than normal, and anyone who wants to push me has to hunch a bit to reach. Again, do your research and talk to your rep before making final decisions. Some companies will let you test out the chairs they have on hand to see what you like. It’s important to work with a wheelchair company you really like because you’re literally putting you life in their hands. I’ve had better luck with smaller, locally-owned companies, but you can’t always get referrals there, and not every town has them. Here’s my tip to you: Numotion sucks ass. Avoid them. My branch of Numotion seems to be an outlier; I’ve had really good experiences with them. But most of the time, its impossible to get ahold of anyone, their hours are few and random, and their customer service reps are rude. But! After you’ve completed your order form—gotten measurements and found customizations—they’ll submit it to insurance. This is the tricky part. I went through four appeals, before I got mine approved. Luckily, I had insurance through my mom’s job, and after the last appeal, her company told the insurance that they had to pay for it. This won’t be the case with everyone. Be diligent with your appeals. Have your doctors write specific, clear letters about why you need it, including information about all the customizations and add-ons. It’s likely that they’ll only pay for the base chair, and you’ll have to pay out of pocket for any extra things. Another note: most insurance companies will only pay for a new chair once every five years (if they approve the first one at all), so be sure that the chair you pick out will work for you for at least the next five and a half years.

I had an advisor in college tell me something devastating once: there is no AAA for wheelchairs. I’d broken a caster wheel and gotten stuck on a university sidewalk in 102 degree heat, and she was telling me about her own experiences getting stranded after one of her tires popped. She’s right; if you’re wheelchair breaks, you’re stuck wherever you are without any backup. Carry your phone with you. Tell your friends or family where you’re going before you leave. Familiarize yourself with the wheelchair repairs shops in your area. Sometimes places like bike shops will be able to help you fix smaller things. I always carry an Allen wrench with me in case I need to take a part off. And don’t worry; you’ll find that if something does go wrong, people are far more willing to help than you’d expect. One of the sculpture professors in the art department found me that day and went back to his workshop to get all his tools. He brought me water and sat in the sun while he tried to fix my wheel, and when he couldn’t, he offered to drive me wherever I needed to go. This man was a tenured professor with a prestigious MFA, and he was running late for a party where he was supposed to be handing out awards. You’ll find lots of good people when things inevitably go to shit.

Going along with the last point, your wheelchair will break, and you will have to send it into the shop to get repairs. If you can, invest in a cheap manual chair that you can use in emergencies. If you live with other people, you can buy a transport chair for cheaper, but you’ll need someone around to push you because it won’t have hand rims.

If you’re new to wheelchair use, give yourself space to feel all the emotions. When I first started, I had been using an office chair(!) to get around. My mom would push me from my bed to the bathroom and then back to bed while we waited to get a rental. I was so relieved when I got my own chair that I pushed everything else down. It took months to allow myself to be sad about all the things I couldn’t do anymore and be angry about all the inaccessible infrastructure that America has. Don’t push it down. Talk to a therapist or find people in the community to discuss it with. (If I choose to talk about my frustrations with friends, I always start with “I need to vent right now, and I’m grateful you’re willing to listen to me, but I’m not looking for any solutions to this at the moment,” or “can you give me some suggestions to work around these things that are frustrating me?” This gives my friends insight into what I need, instead of making them guess. It keeps us both from getting frustrated, and I highly suggest it, especially if you or your friends have trouble navigating social situations/expectations.)

Hand Controls

Hand controls are great option for your car if you’re unable to use your feet to drive. I got mine about a year back, but it was tricky and really confusing at first.

First thing you need to know: you can’t get hand controls without a prescription from a specialist. Usually a certain type of occupational therapist. You can look up driving rehab OTs in your area, but there aren’t many of them, and lots of the time you’ll have to drive several hours to see one. There’s usually a long wait list as well. (And of course, a lot of them don’t take insurance.)

If you’re able to find someone who’s certified, they’ll do an intake appointment and assess your physical abilities and needs. Sometimes, they’ll do the assessment and decide you aren’t fit to use hand controls. This can be for a multitude of reasons, including impaired mental cognition and slow reaction time, issues with hand or arm mobility, or there might be a better way to adapt a car for you. Again, it varies greatly on the person, and I’m not an OT, so I don’t know all the ins and outs. If you pass the assessment, and they view you got to drive with hand controls, you’ll be required to do a certain amount of training where you practice using different equipment. Some OTs will know what you need to use right away, and others will have you try different things out to see what fits best. There’s a lot of types of hand controls and a lot of adaptations that can be done to a car, so it really depends on the person. My training was only about 15 hours (plus independent driving practice), but it’ll depend on whether this is your first time ever driving, if you’ve driven without hand controls before, and if you have any other medical issues that might make it hard for you to adapt. Once you’ve completed the training and received your certificate from the OT, they’ll write a prescription to send to a shop that does specialty car adaptation. Kind of like wheelchairs, the shop you go to is very important. Ask your OT if they have any favorites in the area. Insurance never covers this, and some shops will way overcharge you if you’re not careful. My hand controls were about 3k out of pocket, but it was definitely worth it. It would’ve been a lot more to add other adaptations like a lift or a ramp, but sometimes you can buy used accessible vans for cheaper than adding it to your own car. Something to know: you’re usually able to turn your hand controls on and off. So if your friend needs to borrow your car, or you need to let a mechanic test drive it, you can disable to hand controls and allow someone else to use the foot pedals as normal.

Overall, it’s a very long, very expensive process, so plan ahead and be prepared to wait and pay.

Navigating Raising a Kid with Chronic Illnesses

I don’t have any kids, but my mom was my sole caretaker growing up, and I can offer you some of her thoughts. You have to remember that no matter what age your kid is, chronic illness is an impossible thing for them to deal with, and yet they have to deal with it anyways. Sometimes, there’s no good way to comfort a child who’s in 10/10 pain, or who’s about to undergo a life-altering procedure. All you can do is your best. Communicate. Offer support. Give affection. Make your love unconditional. I was a very angry teenager. I was angry with my mom that she couldn’t fix it, and I was angry with my doctors for the way they treated me. There were days where I would yell and sob and refuse to take my meds, and there where days where I would stare at the wall and not respond to anything. It drove my mom up the wall. She’s used to fixing things, and this was one of those things she couldn’t even help. I know she stills holds a lot of guilt for this, but she shouldn’t. She did her best. You’re doing your best too. You can’t fix everything. That being said, here are her suggestions:

Therapy, therapy, therapy. They might hate it, but some day, they’ll thank you. Remember that not every therapist is right for every patient. If your kid wants to switch to a different therapist, let them. It’s better than them sitting and not speaking the whole session.

Lots of kids with developing rare undiagnosed diseases will go through this vicious cycle where they get a new symptom, get sent to a specialist, get dismissed, and then develop a new symptom and start the process all over again. It’s not easy. My mom was a fan of throwing Pity Parties. Every once in a while, when the grind of it all started making us feel hopeless, she’d take me to the store and say, “pick out snacks and drinks. We’re going to throw a pity party, gorge on sugar, watch Lord of the Rings, feel bad for ourselves, and tomorrow, we’ll dust ourselves off and try again.” It helped. It was good to know that sometimes you can let life feel unfair, and it was even better to know that the next day it would be easier to try again.

A lot of being chronically ill as a kid is getting decisions stripped from you and having unexpected negative experiences. My mom would try to do spontaneous things every once in a while to remind me that not all surprises are bad. Instead of driving straight home after school one Friday, she took me to Starbucks without saying anything. After an MRI, she stopped at an art fair and let me pick out a necklace. We would go to the library after I spent the day in the hospital. Sometimes, she’d call my aunts while I was at school to come over and play card games on the weekends. And she was really big on giving me choices in everything. She never made me agree to new (non-lifesaving) treatment. Ever. If she really wanted me to do it, we’d talk it over and come to an agreement that made us both happy. Sick kids are forced into adulthood early; they know how to make calculated, logical decisions when needed. Let them be a part of their own healthcare. (They should also be given the chance to make rash, stupid decisions that have no bearing on their health.)

Keep track of everything. Doctors, meds, ER visits, PT exercises, diets they’ve tried for GI issues, everything about the surgeries they’ve undergone. Some day, you’ll need it. Or your kid will grow up into a chronically ill adult, and they’ll need it.

Talk to their school counselor about getting a 504 or IEP. Even if they’re not struggling. I was a super academically minded kid; I didn’t struggle to understand new concepts or complete homework correctly. But eventually it became hard for me to attend class and finish assignments. Having an IEP saved me. 504s are a lot easier to get (a lot less paperwork, less testing, less pushback from admin), but they’re not legally binding. If you want something concrete and all-encompassing, go for the IEP. IEPs are also really helpful when trying to get accommodations in college. You can also start with a 504 and switch to an IEP later. While we’re on the subject of school: remember that education is important, but school is not the end all be all of your child’s life. What should matter the most to you is that they end up safe and happy. I didn’t graduate high school; I took a proficiency test my junior year and dropped out. It was the best choice I could’ve made at the time, but it was still tough for my mom. I ended up going to college, and now I have a pretty solid job, but every kid will be different. Their mental and physical health is the most important. School is a huge huge huge stressor. Don’t make it harder for them than it already is.

Dating

God dating sucks enough on its own, but adding in chronic illness and disability just makes it a shit show. I don’t have a lot to offer on this other than you shouldn’t settle for anyone who doesn’t respect you, treat you with love and compassion, and accept every part of you for what it is. People will say rude shit. They’ll be nasty, fetishizing, infantilizing, dismissive. Some won’t be able to put up with all the things that come along with being ill. I sound like a broken record, but find a good therapist who can help you voice your needs and expectations clearly. Remember that you never have to go on a date if you don’t want to. Participate as you see fit. Throw it all out if you want.

I don’t have enough time to go into my tips for intimacy/sex and disability, but I’ll give you the highlights.

Communicate. Make it very clear what you’re able to do, what you’re interested in doing, and what you don’t want.

There are lots of ways to have sex. If you’re both having fun, being safe, and engaging consensually, then you’re doing it right. Don’t let abled bodied people tell you the way it should be done. There are lots of accessibility friendly toys to invest in, too.

As weird as it might sound, don’t be afraid to take breaks. Keep water near by. If you have POTS, keep salt or electrolyte tablets on hand. If you have to stop to vomit or go to the bathroom, don’t let it shame you. Go at your own pace and take care of your body.

Misc

Having seizures on a college campus: Most universities have a policy that if you lose consciousness while on campus, they have to call an ambulance. You are not required to ride in the ambulance. You can decline, and the paramedics will make you sign a form before leaving. If you’re still actively having seizures, then they’ll take you anyways, but you probably won’t be in any shape to try to decline. If you’re having seizures regularly, tell your professors. It’ll freak them the fuck out, so warn them ahead of time. It makes the whole thing a lot less awkward when you collapse in the aisle during a lecture. Related to that: communicate with your professors about all your accommodations and emergency health needs. They really honestly appreciate it when you talk to them about this stuff. Even if they have a big class and don’t remember you, it’s good to send them an email and introduce yourself. Hopefully, you’ve also talked to your college’s Disability Resource Center. If not, go do that. Now. (There’s a whole lot of shit that I have to say about campus accessibility and disability resource centers, but I’m not gonna go into it right now.) Also, wear your medical alert bracelet. I know they suck, but it sucks more for someone to be digging through your pants pocket while you’re seizing to try to find your wallet. And keep your emergency contact info pinned up somewhere in your dorm. I used to put mine on the fridge and point it out to my roommates at the beginning of term. It can take a while for RAs to pull yours up, so it’s best to make sure it’s easily accessible.

Remember that you do not function like a normal person. There is no wrong way to solve one of your problems. If you need to put a stool in your bathroom to sit at while you brush your teeth, do it. I got an extra tall stool to sit at while I cook at the stove because my wheelchair is too short. (Cooking in a wheelchair is another thing I could talk about forever.) If you need to wear a sleep mask on the bus because the light makes your migraine worse, do it. People can look at you funny all they want. Like I said, I rolled around my house in an office chair while I waited for a rental wheelchair. What I’m trying to say is find things that work and implement them, even if they’re non traditional.

Here’s what I pack in my bag for an ER visit: headphones, phone charger, book, zofran, Naproxen, water bottle, wallet with cash, socks, and sleep mask to block out the waiting room lights. If I’m expecting to be admitted, then I’ll pack more, but I try to keep it light if it’s just triage and a visit with the ER doctor. Sometimes I’ll stuff a granola bar or some almonds in there too.

My biggest tip for surviving hospital stays is to get out of your room (if possible). Go on walks around the unit. Some hospitals have little courtyards patients can sit in. If you’re in peds, go visit the rec room, even if it’s awkward. Their activities are usually meant for the younger kids, but it can be fun to connect with other people your age, and you’ll thank yourself later when you’re stuck in bed at 3am. Also, tell your friends to come visit you. Not everyone will be able to, but most people are happy to come hang out for an hour or two. It’ll help; I promise.

Clean your room every few weeks. Dear god, clean your room. I have trouble with executive functioning and finding energy to do housekeeping type stuff, but I get more depressed when my room is gross. So clean your room. Especially if you have hypersomnia/sleep excessively.

Don’t force yourself to use a pill organizer. I know everyone says it makes it easier, but I get overwhelmed when I have to refill it, and then I just don’t end up taking my meds. If it doesn’t work for you, don’t do it. If it does, then do it!

Don’t buy the self help books your therapist recommends unless you’re actually interested in reading them. It’ll just sit on your shelf and make you feel guilty for not being good enough.

Mental illness is tightly bound to physical illness. Try to be an active listener in your body. Sometimes, when I’ve been feeling really nauseous, my PSTD symptoms will get triggered over nothing, and it’ll frustrate the fuck out of me because it seems like it’s happening over nothing. I try to track when my emotional state is worse to see if it’s correlated to my physical symptoms. This helps curb the frustration and guilt. Sometimes it makes me dissociate more. It’s a balancing act. Just do your best.

Hobbies are so so so important. Make sure to give yourself time to work on them! And there are a million ways to adapt the activities you love if you’re having trouble, so don’t afraid to do some research. I know they have crochet hook grips for people with arthritis or loose grips, and there are super intense magnifying glasses for people who like to cross stitch and are having trouble seeing the tiny ass holes. I have a color blind friend who sends us pictures of paint to see if it’s the shade he wants. Very occasionally, you’ll come to the conclusion that there’s a hobby you can’t adapt. Let yourself be sad. I can’t hike anymore and it sucks. I can’t go tide-pooling either, and its not like if I just work really hard I’ll be able to do it some day. Life is shit, and sometimes you have to let things go. Be angry, be sad, tell people to fuck off if they try to turn you into inspiration porn, but also remember that there are lots of other cool things out there to try.

Going along with the hobby thing: take the time to learn ASL if you’re having trouble with your hearing or if you often go nonverbal. One of my friends had to get hearing aids last year, and we offered to learn with them, but they were hesitant because it feels like a non necessity to them. Something selfish that would take up all our time. If you think it’ll help, you should grant yourself the time to learn. Capitalism makes us think that we shouldn’t engage in activities unless we gain money or power from them, but that mindset will kill you. Your life will be infinitely easier if you learn ASL online with your partner or friends or siblings.

Look up Spoon Theory. It’s not a helpful metaphor for everyone, but most people in the community talk about it, so it’s good to be familiar with it.

Don’t be afraid to go out and find community! Find support groups, look up wheelchair sports if you’re into getting sweaty, brave the awkwardness of starting conversations with other patients in the clinic. I’m wholly and completely of the idea that humans are innately good. There are lots of interesting chronically ill/disabled people who’re looking for connection. Insurance companies and other medical entities rely on us feeling isolated, alone, and uniformed to continue making money and hold power. It’s important that we share with and support each other.

I know a lot of this is basic stuff, but it’s helpful to have reminders, and if you’re new to the whole song and dance, then it’s nice to get a sneak peak. There are a million things I didn’t get to, but this was what was on the top of my brain.

Also, I’m not the collective voice of every chronically ill person in the world. My experiences are not yours and they’re not everyone else’s. What works for me, might not work for you. Be kind.

[msfbgraves]

I’ve had relatives who have had cancer, and they did not have the sheer stamina, physicality and great physique that Terry did. Making him ill was such rubbish. The way he went out with his total loathing of Kreese and the yacht exploding was such laughable nonsense.

At least he remained obsessed and infatuated with Daniel LaRusso until the end. As he should be. Now that was canon for me.

Yeah, buckle up, kids. I am going to tell you why Terry Silver having cancer is utter, complete bullshit. My credentials? I am in cancer remission.

First things first, Terry is not on active chemo, and hasn't been for at least six months, and that is if he had fast growing hair. It can take a bit of time for hair to come back and it does in stages. Usually Terry's length will get you at least a full year without any chemo. He has eyebrows and lashes too they take a fuckload of time to return. No sign of steroids in his facial shape either. (You take the steroids on chemo to subdue your immune system which will otherwise make you so nauseous you'd shoot yourself. They change your face).

It also takes you at least a year to get back to any former levels of fitness, probably longer. Even elite martial artists. Also, Terry was not even doing any martial arts in Malibu. To get that good, that quickly, with no practice and after chemotherapy? No way. No way in Hell.

OK maybe he never went on chemo. There are people who go the immunotherapy route. That is often only offered past chemo, as neoadjuvant immunotherapy is, rn, in clinical trial stage. He wouldn't qualify but then, he's a billionaire and bribes people. But then what is with the wine cellar, hm? Alcohol is a carcinogen. It does not make sense to want to supercharge your immune system while still drinking recreationally. And maybe he wasn't in Malibu but he was right back on the beers with Kreese!

He's not on anything and he's lost the will to live. Then babe, your prognosis isn't very long. We're talking months. You wouldn't have any time to take over the Valley with Cobra Kai. Also, why not die on the battlefield with Chozen?

Because you're either trying to live and execute grand plans, but then you really can't drink, or you do not give a flying fuck anymore but then you simply wouldn't have the time to execute any grand vision. Doing what he does - foregoing chemo, possibly being on immunotherapy, and making long term plans while actively suppressing his immune system, the only thing between him and very rapid death? While having known of his illness since before we meet him in S4? (Heavily implied). Bonkers. Nonsense. You can't have it both ways!

Ah, but maybe he was only diagnosed with stage IV at, say, the end of S5. He thought he was in remission before.

Well that is convenient, is it not? But then again with the smoking and the heavy drinking. That is going to rapidly decline your health and shorten your time on earth. If he wants to see the end of the Sekai Taikai, he cannot afford to go on a bender like that in Thailand. Or menacingly smoke cigars. Especially since unchecked tumors grow exponentially and will start to give you health issues very fucking fast. Again, if he doesn't care? L'chaim, Terry, but then the Sekai Taikai may take too fricking long!

Conclusion: bullshit storyline. It doesn't add up at all.

[h1s-m4rtialgod]

Heh... ALL OF THEM (ask game)

MING IM GONNA CHOKE YOU. /silly, j

domesticated — how easily do you give into your darling’s desires ? ( bonus : assuming you’d kidnapped them , how much pleading from them would it take for you to let them go ? )

Hmmm.. id probably give in the moment you asked I think? Of course, if its something I dont KNOW about, id probably think for a tiny bit.. but its INSTANT give in /silly ( If you’d ask to leave, id 100% let you, but id probably stalk your accounts or anything to see if you’re active and makes sure you’re atleast alright :3 )

wolf — are you more interested in your darling’s comfort , or your own desires and excitement ?

YOURS. 100% YOURS. Dont even WORRY about mine

collar — what kind of physical ownership would your darling ‘ wear ‘ ? ( a collar , matching necklaces , bruises , etc . )

Boutta pull a hua cheng here lowkey, but maybe matching necklaces/bracelets with our names or just a ring on a necklace? Depends really, cause I’m only gonna do what you’re comfortable with and partially mine

harness — how much control do you want over your darling’s life , body , and mind ,, if any ?

As much control as you’d give me : 3

service dog — how much affection do you give to your darling compared to other people ?

I feel so bad that Im SUCH an extroverted-introverted dude, cause im constantly giving my friends alot of attention… but since you’re now my OFFICIAL darling, you’re gonna get all of my attention anytime I have my phone : )

working dog — would you prefer to provide for your darling ( with work , food , etc . ) , let them provide and take care of them along the way , or be equal ?

Hate that my legs are absolutely SHITTY, cause if they worked way better, i’d do LITERALLY everything for you. But maybe equal (and I do a little bit more than you do but dw about that)

howl — would you ever punish your darling for something ? if so , what would you punish them for and how ?

I would NEVER punish you, im too much of a wuss to even speak up for myself 💔 (But I’d probably do like. A teasing annoyance act or something)

coyote — would you ever be nervous with your darling , are you naturally stoic , or do you put up a brave facade with them ?

100% probably nervous but ALSO stoic.. im a scaredy cat man 💔 NO FACADE FOR YOU THOUGH. I want you to know the real me :3

wolfdog — is there anything you wouldn’t accept your darling for ? ( different beliefs , identity , etc . ) . if so , would you try to change them ?

OF COURSE NOT??? You can literally be anything (besides like. Racist, a kid diddler or sum) AND I WOULDNT GIVE A FUCK BC YOU’LL STILL BE PERFECT IN MY EYES

chew toy — do you like to mark your darling ? if so , how ? and if no , why not ?

Only if you’d be comfortable !! The whole “marking” experience was kinda. Ruined by my ex and now i get nauseous with any thought of biting or marking someone though

bark — what’s the absolute worst thought you’ve had about your darling ?

KAY SO: I havent had like.. any ‘bad’ thoughts at all so far, I think the worst rn though is just me kidnapping you and taking you to a small house and we just ?? Live 2gether away from the world and everybody else ? WAH IDK

hound — if your darling tried to leave you or get away from you , how far would you go to get them back ? how long would you try before giving up ?

lets see, If you left me/got away: I’d probably cry HARDCORE, but I’d never give up on you really .. ID TRY TO GET YOU BACK AT ALL COSTS 💔

owner — are you more of a submissive or dominant yandere ? in what ways ? how does that affect your relationship with them ?

Hmmm.. maybe both but more?? Dominant?? Idk ive always been told that, but im more like.

OKAY SO: Ill be submissive if i WANT or feel comfortable doing that, but due to past shit im more dominant and up front so im way more protective of people SO. ill probably be more protective of you from anything and also just. Kinda. Take you as my own and never let you leave kinda dominant

IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT CRIES

[justcallmefox89]

Gale and the Gith: Chapter Thirteen - Inferior Part IV

X'aa'nath and Lae'zel have an audience with their queen, and X'aa'nath's loyalty is questioned.

“Do you really think this Inquisitor will help us?” Astarion whispers to Gale.

“It’s never been that easy before.  I don’t see why it would be now,” the wizard mutters despondently, his eyes never leaving X’aa’nath’s back.

“Do as I do,” Lae’zel orders, overhearing them.  “The Inquisitor shall only tolerate the utmost respect.”

Only X’aa’nath bothers to reply, whispering a soft “yes, kin” without stopping his forward stride.

The Inquisitor warmly welcomes Lae’zel into the inner sanctum of the creche.  “My ardents spoke of one of our kin that escaped a crashing ghaik slave-vessel.”

Gale bristles at the man’s intentional snub of X’aa’nath and Astarion’s hand on his shoulder is the only thing that stops him from speaking out.

“Ch’r’rai.  Vlaakith’s justice in the flesh.”  Lae’zel inclines her head in a show of respect, X’aa’nath quickly following her lead.

“You have accomplished much, child.  I am pleased to finally meet you.  I’ve heard there is so much goblin blood on your hands that it soaks their children’s nightmares.”  Ch’r’rai W’wargaz’s eyes slide from Lae’zel to X’aa’nath.  “You’ve done well to not let Khou’zal’s runt impede your progress.”

X’aa’nath remains entirely still, only the faintest twitching of the fingers on his left hand betraying his distress at the elder’s words.

“I suspect you plucked something precious from the ghaik ship,” W’wargaz continues.  “Something our queen has been looking for.  The weapon.  Give it to me.”

Alarm spreads from the artefact, making Gale faintly nauseous.  Astarion doesn’t seem to be completely unaffected either, and it’s strong enough to make X’aa’nath hesitate.

“The ch’r’rai speaks.  You must obey,” Lae’zel orders. 

Her voice seems to knock X’aa’nath out of his stupor and he reflexively pulls the artefact from his robes and places it in the Inquisitor’s hands.  The planecaster in the center of the room begins to glow, and soon a projection of the githyanki queen towers over those assembled.  The githyanki in the room immediately fall to their knees, their heads bowed in reverence.  Gale catches hold of Astarion’s arm, tugging him further away and out of sight of the imposing queen.

“Vlaakith gha’g shkath zai!” W’wargaz cries worshipfully.   

Lae’zel manages to raises her head long enough to gaze upon Vlaakith in admiration.  “My Queen – shkath zai!”

X’aa’nath remains silent, respectfully keeping his gaze low.

Vlaakith leans closer to Lae’zel and softens her voice.  “These attendants you keep – you taught them well.  My child.  My Lae’zel.”

Gale’s heart twists as he watches X’aa’nath’s shoulders sag at his Queen’s clear indifference to his presence and devotion.  The wizard knows too well the feeling of having the one you worship turn their back to you, but to have the obvious disdain from all of his kin as well?  Gale cannot even fathom the depths X’aa’nath’s distress.

“Ch’mar, zal’a Vlaakith,” Lae’zel murmurs rapturously.  “You know me.”

“Urion of K’liir speaks most highly.  As did Al’chaia before him.”  Vlaakith stands, her tone once again forceful.  “You seek purity.  I may yet grant it.”

The lich queen turns her attention to X’aa’nath.  “Do not think I do not recognize you X’aa’nath, he who never should have been.  Khou’zal prolonged his return to the Astral Place, to my service, in order to train you.  And now he is dead.  Your existence robbed me of one of my greatest warriors.  And now you carry what is mine.  So what do I call you child of Gith?  A loyal servant or a thief?” 

“I am at your command, my Queen.  The artefact is yours,” X’aa’nath murmurs, keeping his gaze low.

The artefact screams in fear; Gale and Astarion exchange a worried glance.

Vlaakith gifts X’aa’nath with a benevolent smile.  “Your will is strong.  Perhaps you are not as worthless as I initially feared.  Prove your fealty now, and you will be recognized among all githyanki as one of my chosen.  That ‘weapon’ you carry – the Astral Prism – it is corrupted.”

“I will cleanse it for you, my Queen,” Lae’zel blurts out.  “Tell me how.”

X’aa’nath scowls at her, the only time Gale has seen him express any sort of negative emotion towards his kin.

“There is someone inside,” Vlaakith continues.  “Their mind is warped, broken – a blight.  They are an agent of the Grand Design.  Sent to sabotage the Astral Prism – our last defense against the return of the Illithid Empire.  As long as they live, the Prism is compromised.  Kill them.  Do this, and I will cleanse you and your allies.  Do this and ascend.”

Lae’zel gasps.  “Ascension?  My queen.  An honor gained, a burden borne.”

“Cleanse the Prism, ardent of Khou’zal,” Vlaakith says, returning her attention to X’aa’nath.  “Eliminate this danger to the githyanki and finally claim your place among your people.”

Gale’s heart drops into his stomach at the hopeful look on the sorcerer’s face, and fear shoots through him at X’aa’nath’s next words.

“It is my greatest honor to obey.”

Vlaakith smiles, something about the expression deeply unsettling to Gale.  “Use the planecaster’s power to enter the artefact.  Be wary of the creature’s lying tongue.  Cut it out if you must.  W’wargaz.  They are not to leave until it is done.”

The Inquisitor bows his head.  “As you say, my Queen.”

“Ch’mar zal’a Vlaakith.  We will not waste a second,” Lae’zel vows.

Vlaakith’s image fades away, the silence left in her wake is broken only by the sounds of X’aa’nath’s boots against the stone floor as he strides towards the planecaster.

“Hold on a moment, don’t you thin-”

Astarion’s protest is cut off as X’aa’nath steps into the portal and the group is swept away.  They’re spat out on floating bit of rock, and the four crash together, each trying to stay upright.  Once he regains his footing Gale gazes around in awe, taking in the asteroids and gigantic bones of fallen gods that languid drift around them, perfectly preserved in this small pocket of the Astral Plane.

“Boundless, timeless – like every dream that ever was, stitched together,” Lae’zel murmurs.

“My home,” X’aa’nath mournfully whispers, his expression momentarily twisted into something Gale can’t quite interpret.

The four move towards a second portal, coming to a standstill as the voice of their dream visitor echoes in their minds.  “So you came.  Despite all my warnings.  Disappointing.  Come.  We will talk in private, just X’aa’nath and I.”

“No!” Lae’zel snarls.  “I will accompany you, we will cleanse - ”

X’aa’nath places his hands on her shoulders, cutting her off.  “I can do this, kin.  Trust in me, as I trust in you.  I will do this, for both of us.”

Her brows draw together as she frowns, but she finally nods.  “Go, kin.  We will be waiting.”

X’aa’nath’s eyes flit over to Gale, and the wizard gives what he hopes is an encouraging smile.  He takes in the determined expression on the sorcerer’s face, the proud tilt of his chin, the flashing silver of his eyes… and he says a small prayer to whichever god may still be listening that X’aa’nath will return to him.

One final deep breath and X’aa’nath steps through the portal.  Now all that’s left to do is wait.

[emlovslennon]

(HELP HES SO FINE)

Era: 1969

Plot: After being friends with John for 3 years, you finally confess your feelings for him, also basically AU bc yoko is non existent LMAO you’re welcome.

Warnings: None! Just fluff :)

-

“Alright, boys! I think that’s all” Paul says cheerfully, everyone else seemed to feel the same, as everyone looked wore out and tired, except Paul of course. Paul was the hardest worker you knew, you became close with all of them once you met John when they were about to work on Sgt. Peppers, and they let you sit with Linda while they record. You could never seem to keep your eyes off John, though. The entire almost 10 hours of him working. His hair, his voice, his eyes, his hands, his body, everything. Everything about him just seemed…. Perfect.

“Hey, love.” John whispered as he tapped your shoulder from behind, you jumped slightly and immediately got kicked out of your thoughts. John giggled lightly at your reaction. Your face was bright red and your heart started to beat fast.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted to ask if you would want me to drive you home?” He asked, looking deep into your eyes. You nodded as you played with your fingers and biting your lip, you’d have to tell him sometime, I mean, no, of course not, why would you do that? That’s silly! Right?…

“H-hey, John… I have something to tell you when we get into the car.” You managed to stutter out, John nodded and placed his hand on your back as he walked you out of the studio and into the car, you felt nauseous from the nervousness, scared of his reaction, scared that you might lose the one man you felt true feelings for. But you knew that you couldn’t hide it any longer.

“So, what were you going to tell me, birdie?” He asked, putting his keys into the ignition and starting the car. You stuttered for a second, until you finally decided to swallow your pride and let it out:

“John, Ive been feeling this way for awhile now and it’s become so unbearable I can’t hold it any longer. I… I think I have feelings for you, and strong feelings, ever sense I met you, I’ve connected with you in ways I never have with another person, if you don’t wanna talk anymore, I’ll um… Understand, I just had to say it, it’s completely fine if you don’t fe-“

“Yn, do you have any idea how long I’ve been wanting to tell you that? You have been the woman I’ve been looking for me whole life, I was fucking miserable until I met you, you make me wanna keep going with this silly boy band if that means I get to see your pretty face watching me, I’m absolutely in love with you, in every sense of the word.” He confessed, cupping your face as he pulled you into a soft kiss, only breaking apart once you realized you guys were the only ones in the parking lot and it was almost three in the morning.

“Say, how about instead of just me taking you home, how about you just live with me? I have plenty of room, just me and occasionally Julian, he usually spends time with his mother” he said, gripped your hand tightly, you were shocked by the gesture, but your heart completely melted, you truly never knew what love meant until you met him.

“Id love to, John” you said, he smiled, giving you one last kiss before driving off into the night.

-

A/N: WOOOOO FIRST FIC!!! This was just a lil’ sample of what my writing is like, I wanna try writing a smut but I’m so rusty rn when it comes to that so I just did something simple, hope it was enjoyable!!!

[zombie-rott]

"Blood In The Boardroom."

Inspired by the prompt: “I just started my period...."

Content: Approx 1178K words.

Relationship: Established Papa IV (Copia) X Reader (She/her)

Trigger warning: Blood. Talk of menstruation and the trials that go with it.

Synopsis:

Today was not the day for you to take your period. You had too much to do and no time to be in this much pain.

Notes:

Inspired by the above prompt and the fact that today, while out for a run, I had the worst period pain of my life.

~ ~ ~ ~

The first indication that something was array was a quick, stabbing sensation in the lower left of your abdomen.

You flinched, but only slightly, before brushing it off as nothing. 

Then there was another. And another. Until you couldn't remember a time when you weren’t in pain. The date flashed in your mind and you remembered that you still hadn't menstruated in well over thirty-five days. 

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. There wasn't time for this and certainly not now. You had a meeting to attend with several other clergy members and had planned to go for a run later that evening. But as you felt a familiar trickle, you decided it was best if you at least take the time for a hygiene break. You made your way to the nearest restroom to make use of the free sanitary supplies. You’ve never been prepared because your cycle never enabled you to be, so you felt eternally grateful to whom ever’s idea it was to put a hygiene basket in almost all the restrooms in the abbey. 

Just as you chose your weapon and began to slip into one of the stalls, you felt another stabbing pain. Still, you were trying to put it to the back of your mind. All you wanted to do was to take care of this situation and get to your meeting. Followed swiftly by everything else you had planned but at double speed. You even considered forgetting your run to crawl back into your warm bed.

You soon realised, as you stared at the blood in your underwear, that this might be worse than you first thought. It was heavy. Extremely heavy. And the pain made it all the worse. You suddenly felt woozy, not at the sight of the blood, you were well prepared for that, but rather the amount. 

“Shit.” You cursed out loud as another wave of pain washed over you, “Fuck. I don’t have time for this today.” 

You took a few moments to steady yourself, dabbing as much of the blood from your underwear as possible and inserting the tampon. The pain wasn’t constant at the moment. It came in waves with no particular pattern. Bearable. But things would escalate, and you knew they would. The real question was how long had you got before you were doubled over, nauseous and in desperate need of a co-codamol? It could be anywhere between thirty minutes to three hours. 

“I can do this.” You thought as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You washed your hands and proceeded with your morning, all the while continuing to try and ignore the inevitable. 

The first twenty minutes of the meeting were fine. You felt the stabbing intensify periodically but it quickly leveled out. This was manageable. You’d worked through worse. You distracted yourself by concentrating on the others in the room. 

Sister Imperator talked numbers, mostly, followed by Primo and Papa Copia arguing about tour dates. Then there was a brief discussion about the sort of refreshments that should be expected in a meeting of this calibre. Obviously started by Terzo, the resident coffee connoisseur. 

But then you lost interest because your lower back started to twinge too. Suddenly, the pain bloomed across your whole abdomen. You inhaled sharply and gripped your hands across your stomach. 

“Sorella, are you okay?” 

You looked up to meet Papa Copia’s concerned gaze and nodded. 

“Si, Papa. Just a little hungry. I didn’t quite manage breakfast.” You joked. 

He nodded in response, brows furrowed. You knew he didn’t believe you, but you’d rather not announce to the whole room that you had suddenly taken your period. You had expressed to him often enough in the privacy of your shared quarters that you'd been experiencing premenstrual symptoms. And you were both slightly concerned that you were so late seeing as children, while not out of the question, were simply not currently feasible.

The meeting was continued for another fifteen minutes, during which time you had tried your best simply not to appear too much in pain. You held your hands tightly to your stomach, pressing against it mimicking pressure and heat. Papa Copia continued to look over at you periodically, clearly aware that you were in some sort of pain. He always could read you like a book. 

“Okay, amici. I think that’s all we really have, si?” He said abruptly, standing up and addressing  the room, “Let’s cut this sort and go enjoy the day, eh? 

“But C-” Sister Imperator began. 

“Whatever it is, it can wait, si? It’s such a beautiful day outside, we should be out enjoying ourselves.” He gestured to the window before lifting his mug from the table. That was always a sure sign that he was ready to leave. That damn mug went everywhere. 

Sister Imperator huffed. The other men made no argument, always happy to get a meeting over with. They wasted no time in launching themselves for the door, closely followed by a mumbling Imperator. You remained sitting, concentrating on keeping your expression as close to neutral as possible. 

“Amore, you’re in pain.” 

It was a statement, not a question as he made his way around to your side of the desk. He knelt down and linked his arms around your front, bringing his head to rest on your shoulder. You lean back against him and let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. The pain was terrible. Not the worst you’d ever had but certainly up there. 

“I had so much to do today.” You said, defeated. 

“It’s that time, eh?” 

You nodded. 

“Let’s get you back to bed, okie dokie?” He said as he helped you up and out of your chair. You winched as the stabbing intensified. The cramps in your stomach had made their way around to your lower back, creating a ring of pain. 

Copia spends the journey back to your quarters talking. You just listened, taking in his voice and concentrating on the way he rolled his R’s in certain words. He gripped your hand tightly in his, gently stroking his thumb over your knuckles. 

It felt like an age before he pushed open the heavy oak doors for you. And even longer still that you were wrapped in your duvet, a fresh set of underwear and lounge clothes on. You inhaled the smell of your bed and curled inwards on yourself.

But then you felt someone sit down beside you and heard the television switch on above the fireplace. 

“Copia?” You asked, already aware of the answer. 

“Yes, amore?” He replied. 

“You can’t stay. You have too much to do.” 

“I am the Papa. If I want to take a sick day with amore mio, then I will.” He lay down and wrapped his arms tightly around your back.

His hands searched for where you clung to the hot water bottle at your abdomen. You snuggled back against him, taking in his scent and easing into his arms. 

“Would you like to watch old re-runs of bad reality TV, or a movie?” 

Lucifer Morningstar, you loved this man.