#this past week. since my doctors appointment. has been. weird

[elisajdb]

A Sweet Blessing Part 2

Something was wrong.

Thinking she was pregnant, filled Chi-Chi with anxiety and joy. Having Goku confirm it made Chi-Chi happy and keeping the secret until her doctor’s appointment made Chi-Chi feel a special bond to Goku, but the morning of her doctor’s appointment, Chi-Chi worried something was wrong with her baby.

That morning she slept late. Her energy was at a higher level for a while which was a sign of pregnancy but this morning she overslept where Goku had to wake her. He was always sleeping in and waking to find Chi-Chi’s side empty. Chi-Chi thought that was strange but she dismissed it, showered and went into the kitchen to make breakfast. Goku joined her by doing push-ups on the kitchen floor. It reminded Chi-Chi of the early years of their marriage where Goku exercised in the kitchen while Chi-Chi cooked.

The morning continued peacefully with Gohan and Goten sleeping. Despite the extra hour of sleep, Chi-Chi felt sluggish. It was also odd to her that she wasn’t hungry. She was voraciously hungry for the past week when she woke but only wanted tea today. Chi-Chi assumed her lateness in getting up killed her desire to eat. The need to feed her family kept her going until she completed breakfast.

With hot and fresh food on the stove and table, Chi-Chi was ready to wake her sons when an unusual pain stabbed her stomach. Her stomach felt queasy as if it was being pulled and twisted like dough. Saliva slowly poured inside her mouth. What was happening? She hadn’t felt like this before. “Ngh!” she clamped a hand on her mouth, ignored Goku calling her name and ran to her bathroom.

Chi-Chi barely made it to the toilet before she dove her head in and vomited the tea she drank that morning. She pulled her head out of the toilet seat as Goku walked in. He stood in the doorway confused.

“Did you throw up?”

“Yeah.” She put a hand over her stomach. Her stomach still felt weird but not enough for her to throw up. “How’s the baby?”

Goku was by Chi-Chi’s side immediately. His hand covered Chi-Chi cradling her stomach. “I can feel a Ki but I don’t know what else is going on.”

“I’ve never gotten sick with Gohan or Goten. I never felt so tired.” She looked at Goku worried. “I hope everything is okay.”

Goku picked up Chi-Chi. “I’ll take you to the doctor now.”

“No,” Chi-Chi stopped him. “I can make it until my appointment. I’ll stay in bed. I don’t want Gohan or Goten to worry. Gohan has school and my Dad will pick up Goten before my appointment.”

Gyumao didn’t know Chi-Chi had a doctor appointment. She asked him to watch Goten while she and Goku ran errands together. Her father accepted the duty thinking she and Goku would be spending time alone.

“If you say so.” Goku wasn’t sure if this was the best thing to do but he trusted Chi-Chi to not do anything to put their child in danger. Chi-Chi stayed in bed the rest of the morning while Goku had breakfast with Gohan and Goten. Goten wasn’t concerned but Gohan did worry before Goku sent him to school. After Gyumao picked up Goten, Goku took Chi-Chi to see Dr. Barkley.

Dr. Barkley has been Chi-Chi’s doctor since her pregnancy with Gohan. She also knew about Goku being an alien and examined him to understand his physiology and how that will affect any offspring from Goku and Chi-Chi. Dr. Barkley wasn’t concerned when Chi-Chi described her morning.

“Sounds like morning sickness,” Dr. Barkley rubbed gel on Chi-Chi’s stomach. “That’s normal in the first trimester. The blood work will come in later but nothing appeared wrong during your cervical exam.”

“I never had morning sickness with Gohan and Goten. I’m carrying a half-Saiyan baby. I never rejected food. I’m always inhaling it but this morning, I couldn’t eat anything after I vomited my tea.”

“It is different from your previous pregnancies,” Dr. Barkley agreed. She rubbed the monitor wand on Chi-Chi’s stomach. “Sometimes different behaviors in pregnancies are signs. This could be a sign you are having a girl.”

As Dr. Barkley said this, a strong heartbeat sounded from the monitor and a baby’s head appeared on the watery black-and-white screen. “A girl?” Chi-Chi was awed seeing her baby. “Do think that’s a she?”

“It’s possible. We’ll know in a month but sometimes women have different food cravings and behaviors when having a boy or girl. A Saiyan and human union is still a new science. Gohan was difficult for you during labor but easy to carry during your pregnancy. Goten was very active during your pregnancy but easy during labor. You had a lot of energy with both sons but this one is flexible by sometimes giving and taking energy from you.”

“If it’s a girl,” Chi-Chi kept her eyes on the monitor as a tear rolled down her cheeks. “I happily accept the changes.”

“I’m sure if it’s a girl, you won’t feel alone anymore with all these men,” Dr. Barkley joked. “You’ll have an ally on your side for once.”

“That would be nice,” Chi-Chi laughed. Chi-Chi imagined her and her daughter standing firm against Goku, Gohan and Goten. “Goten is already very thoughtful and Gohan has become more understanding, but a girl,” Chi-Chi sighed happily at the thought. “It would be so wonderful if that is true.”

A girl Goku thought as he stared at the screen. He was happy whatever the baby was but a girl sent Goku into a mild panic. I don’t know anything about girls. There’s nothing I can teach them except fight and Chi-Chi won’t want that.

Goku didn’t understand girls initially. Grandpa told him to be nice to girls and if he marries, to be very nice to his wife. For years, he thought girls as emotional, irritable and would get in the way of his training and adventures due to his experiences with Bulma and Lunch. He met a few on his travels that had a calmer attitude like Suno and Tanmen but it was Chi-Chi who changed his mind about them. Sure Chi-Chi had an irritable side that was usually provoked but she also had a very loving, caring and understanding side. When he saw her again as teenagers, he felt something. Her anger at him bothered him. Bulma had been angry at him many times and Goku ignored it. Chi-Chi’s anger intrigued him. He wanted to know why he made her angry. When he learned why and the promise he made, Goku jumped in with no hesitation.

Goku thought it was the best decision he made. They had their hardships learning about each other. Goku knew he wasn’t easy to live with but Chi-Chi stayed with him. Not because of the promise or of them having a child. She stayed because she loved him. She stayed loyal to him and raised their second child alone because of her devotion to him.

That alone made Goku want to do right this time and show Chi-Chi her love and devotion to him wasn’t in vain. Now knowing there may be a daughter on the horizon, made Goku feel even more devoted to his promise.

I can’t have what happened to Gohan and Goten happen with another child of mine.

But it wasn’t because of another child of his. The fact this one could be a girl stirred Goku. I hurt Chi-Chi many times. Goku thought a child version of Chi-Chi looking at him with those same eyes hurt, sad and disappointed because of him.

I don’t want that to happen.

When his mother announced there would be a family meeting, Gohan thought it would be something about a family vacation. Family meetings usually deal with an upcoming event like a theme for Halloween or Christmas. Those holidays have passed so Gohan wondered if they were going to discuss the family vacation. As he got older, Gohan noticed his mother was passionate about family vacations and doing things together. She remarked of him getting closer to moving out, there aren’t many family vacations left. With his Dad returning, Gohan knew his mother had something grand in mind. He thought that was the cause of the meeting until Grandpa came for dinner. Grandpa never came to family meetings. So Gohan knew what his parents had to tell them was serious.

But what was it? Gohan thought it had something to do with his mother not joining him for breakfast. Gohan worried about it all day. It concerned him that his Dad and Goten took care of dinner but by the next day, his mother was back on her feet cooking and appeared in a good mood. Gohan assumed all was well.

Was Grandpa’s health declining? Gohan noticed his mother spending more time at Grandpa’s village. She ordered the staff to change his meals, limiting meat and adding more grains, beans and vegetables to his daily eating.

Maybe the meeting is about moving to Grandpa’s castle. Gohan knew his mother considered moving after his Dad’s second passing. He talked her out of it but now Gohan was open to the idea. He loved his home in the mountains but it was getting cramped. He and Goten shared a room. He loved his little brother but it wasn’t always easy to study when Goten played with his toys or made too much noise.

Now he was developing a life of his own with Videl, Sharpner and Erasa, Gohan desired his own space but their house didn’t have an extra room. Grandpa’s castle offered the space he needed.

But Dad was back and Gohan didn’t think as carefree as his Dad is, he would want to move into Grandpa’s castle.

Gohan studied his parents’ body language for clues. Dad was a blank with his jovial expression. It could be raining and Dad would be smiling. Mother was smiling, too. She was a lot happier since Dad returned to life again so whatever the meeting was about, the news was good.

Goku stood with Chi-Chi as Gyumao, Gohan and Goten stared at them. Initially, it wasn’t easy for Goku to keep the secret until after Chi-Chi’s doctor appointment. He wanted to tell everyone immediately but after a few days, Goku liked only he and Chi-Chi knew. It was a sweet secret between them and with him knowing, Goku noticed how relieved Chi-Chi was to not carry the burden alone. She freely talked of her concerns and excitement over the baby. Goku shared some of his, feeling this child was a chance to start over and not repeat the mistakes he made with Gohan and Goten.

Chi-Chi looked at her happy family eager to finally share the good news. “I called this family meeting because we have something to tell you. It’s going to change our lives in the best way.

We’re having a baby.”

 A baby?! Gohan knew his parents were happy to be together again. He didn’t know they were that happy.

Where will it go? Gohan worried about how little space he would have with a second sibling. How will I study with Goten and the baby?

Gohan knew his mother was the thinker for the family and knew she also realized this and the news of the baby must mean they are moving into Grandpa’s castle. We are moving in with Grandpa! I wonder which room will be mine. There are so many and all are huge.

As Gohan fantasized about his new room, Gyumao was on his feet. “A baby!” Gyumao scooped Goku and Chi-Chi off their feet into a strong hug. “That’s wonderful news, Chi-Chi! How far are you? What is it?”

“Almost two months and we don’t know what it is yet.” Chi-Chi received a hug from Gohan but she noticed Goten remained in his seat. “Goten, aren’t you happy? You’re gonna be a big brother.”

Goten was happy. He liked babies. He asked his mother for a baby once but she told him she couldn’t have anymore since Daddy was dead. That wasn’t a problem anymore and the realization his parents were having another baby caused Goten to break out in giggles.

“You lost the race, Momma.”

Chi-Chi didn’t understand. “What race, Goten?”

“The baby race you and Daddy had.”

Chi-Chi looked at Goku for an answer. He shrugged. “What baby race?”

“The race you have to make babies.” Goten giggled. Did his mother forget?

Realization dawned on Goku on what Goten meant. “Goten, you don’t have to tell Momma about that.”

“Uh-oh.” Gohan slapped his forehead as he knew what Goten was referring to. Oh, no. Dad’s gonna die a third time.

Chi-Chi saw the panic on Goku and Gohan’s faces. What did they know? “Goten, tell Momma about the race to make babies.”

Goku laughed nervously. “Oh, you don’t need to know that, Chi-Chi. It’s a silly story I told Goten because he……” Chi-Chi’s raging glare silenced him. There were levels of Chi-Chi’s anger. The first level is Chi-Chi pursing her lips with a raise eyebrow. The second level Chi-Chi crossed her arms with a glare of annoyance. The third level Goku swore Chi-Chi’s irises filled with fire and that’s the level she was at now. He could talk Chi-Chi down when she’s at level one and two anger but three, he had to throw himself at her mercy. “Don’t kill me. Our baby needs a father.”

The fire in Chi-Chi’s eyes simmered. She wouldn’t kill him but if she didn’t like what she heard, Goku will be begging for mercy when she was done with him. “Goten? What did Daddy tell you?”

“I went hunting with Daddy and Big Brother. We saw two deer.”

“Oh.” Chi-Chi knew everything in one simple moment. She didn’t want to hear the rest but knew she had to.

“They were racing, Momma, and then the Daddy deer sniffed the Momma’s deer butt.”

“Goten….” Gohan quietly begged. “Please, stop.”

Goten kept talking. “The Daddy deer jumped on the Momma deer. Daddy said they were racing and since the Daddy deer won, he got to jump the Momma deer and make a baby with her.”

Chi-Chi gaped at Goten speechless. She looked at Gohan who hung his head in shame. Goku took a step away from Chi-Chi and held his hands up pleading Chi-Chi to go gentle on him. Her father fell back on the sofa laughing at the ridiculous story.

From the embarrassment of her eldest son, fear from her husband, laughter from her father and innocent joy from her youngest son, Chi-Chi didn’t have the heart to be mad.  She put her fingers on her lips snorting at the vision of Goku scrambling for an answer to their very curious and innocent son of what the two deer were doing. “Sometimes there are races but Daddy doesn’t always win.” Chi-Chi elbowed Goku’s stomach playfully signaling he was safe from her wrath. “Momma sometimes wins.”

Goten believed it. Daddy was strong but Momma was the strongest. “Did Daddy smell your butt before he jumped you, Momma?”

“Don’t answer that!” Gohan screamed before Goku and Chi-Chi thought to say anything.

Gohan’s panicked outburst brought laughter from everyone. It was the icebreaker needed for the Son Family to celebrate the news of another member joining the family.

Chi-Chi tenderly caressed her stomach as she walked around her home one Saturday morning. She loved Saturdays. Goku didn’t work on the farm. Gohan didn’t attend school. The entire family was together. Breakfast was eaten and the dishes were cleaned. Goku was outside with their sons sparring while Chi-Chi quietly walked through their house.

She was pregnant again. This time should be different. She and Goku weren’t inexperienced newlyweds learning on the job about parenting as they were with Gohan. Chi-Chi wasn’t a widow raising a baby, preteen and dealing with the emptiness Goku left the family. They were both seasoned in parenting. Goku might need a refresher on diaper changing but he wouldn’t be as confused with Gohan.

Goku was very excited about the baby. He expressed remorse for missing Goten growing up. This third child was a redemption for him. Chi-Chi was happy Goku would be around. She knew he will keep his word.

As they prepared for a third baby, Chi-Chi knew changes will have to come. A third baby was too much for their small home. Chi-Chi always wanted a bigger house because she wanted a big family but she and Goku started on money Goku won at the Tenkaichi Budokai. Chi-Chi had money from her father but she wanted to be independent of him so she and Goku started in their small home which was enough for them and Gohan, but as years passed, wear and tear began to show on their home. Chi-Chi thought it was time to expand.

But Goku died and Gohan was kidnapped. The family was in disarray and after two and a half years of separation, the family was united with Goku’s return. The happy reunion came at a cost. More enemies will appear in three years. Goku and Gohan had to train to save their future. Chi-Chi didn’t like it. Her husband returns and more bad news is dropped on the family where their lives were in danger. Adding on to the grim news Piccolo will be living with them, the stress was too much. Chi-Chi and Goku got into a heated argument. An unfortunate hit led to a wall of the house being destroyed and Chi-Chi concussed.

Chi-Chi never thought the house expansion would start from that. Her father, Goku and a very reluctant Piccolo worked on the house. Gohan wanted to help but Chi-Chi kept her son on his studies for she knew Gohan wouldn’t have time for that once he started his training with Goku and Piccolo.

Chi-Chi got a bigger kitchen and living room in the house upgrade but too many years have passed since then, and with her sons bigger and another child on the way, her home needed an overdue expansion.

Chi-Chi went outside where the sparring session was ending. Gohan settled under a tree with a book while Goten sat on Goku’s shoulders as he walked around the backyard.

“Goku!” Chi-Chi waved Goku over.

Since her pregnancy, Goku became very attached to Chi-Chi. He’d sometimes help Chi-Chi cook or run to the market for her. He’d do anything except clean. Mopping, sweeping and washing dishes, sent Goku running away as if a plague was near. It amused Chi-Chi how that was a task he hated doing.

Goku went to Chi-Chi while settling Goten on his left shoulder. “Ya need help in the kitchen for lunch?”

“No. We need to talk about the house.”

Goku frowned. “Ya don’t want me to clean, do ya?”

“No, but with the baby, we do have to expand the house. It’s cramped with the four of us. Five would be too much.”

“Oh.” Goku was relieved Chi-Chi didn’t want him to clean. He hated that. “What do we need?”

“Another bedroom would be good,” Gohan closed his book and joined his family. The night he learned his mother was expecting, there wasn’t any talk of if they will move into Grandpa’s castle. Gohan thought that was the plan but expanding their house was a good second option. “I can have a room by myself and Goten can share a room with the baby.”

Goten frowned. “How come you get a room?”

“Because I’m older and I need space.” Gohan ruffled Goten’s hair. “I like sharing a room with you, Goten, but I need my room to study and practice my Saiyaman poses.”

Goten saw through the excuse. “You want a room so you can talk mushy stuff with Videl without me hearing.”

“Goten!” Chi-Chi chided her youngest. It was probably true but Goten shouldn’t say it. Chi-Chi thought for a while it was time for Gohan to have his own room again. He was becoming a man and needed space. “We might need two rooms. Gohan should have his room but I could be having a girl this time and a girl needs her room.”

“Okay.” Goku didn’t see the problem. “We’re building two rooms.”

“I want a room!” Goten thought if Gohan and the baby get a room, he should, too.

“Goten,” Gohan laughed at his brother. “The room we share will be your room.”

“Oh,” Goten didn’t realize. “I want something new, too, if you and the baby get something.”

Chi-Chi thought that was fair. “What do you want, Goten?”

Goten thought carefully about that. It had to be really special and fun. “Trunks has the newest PlayStation. Can I get that?”

Chi-Chi inwardly winced. That was expensive but Goten was a sweet child. She loved to spoil him and she knew it’s best to give a child something so they are not left out with the baby. Chi-Chi did that giving Gohan a new microscope when pregnant with Goten. “You can have that, Goten. Now that’s settled, you and Gohan should wash up for lunch. I’ll call my Dad later so we can begin plans for the expansion.”

Gohan and Goten left their parents to prepare for lunch. As Goku and Chi-Chi walked to their home, Goku whined, “What about me? If Gohan and Goten get something, I want something, too.”

Chi-Chi nearly rolled her eyes but Goku’s pout brought a smile to her face. “Oh, Goku. Sometimes I do feel like I have three kids already.”

Goku didn’t care. He wanted his question answered. “So….” Goku pressed, “do I get something?”

“You’re impossible,” Chi-Chi laughed but since Goku was so insistent, Chi-Chi thought of what she could offer Goku. He was very simple in his requests. There wasn’t a lot to bribe him with. “You’ll get something whenever our children are sleeping.”

“But I always get that.” Goku liked that offer but he wanted something more.

“What do you want?” Chi-Chi asked. “Permission to go off and train so I don’t get mad? Time away from the farm?”

Chi-Chi thought Goku would laugh at that because it would be what he wanted but he surprised her grabbing her hand and frowning at her. “I want ya thinkin’ I’ll be here. I ain’t leavin’ ya.”

Wow. Chi-Chi stared at Goku. He’s bothered. Chi-Chi remembered his promise in the kitchen that night her pregnancy was confirmed. She wasn’t aware how deeply he meant it. “I know you won’t leave like dying but you’re gonna leave for a few days or weeks to do what you want.” Chi-Chi smiled despite the hurt in her voice. “You can’t sit still for long, Goku. I’ve accepted that. I’ve had seven years to. I won’t be alone,” she promised him. “I have Gohan, Goten and this baby.”

Chi-Chi let go of Goku’s hand and walked back to the house alone. Goku stared at his wife walking away with a chilling sense of dread. Despite what he told Chi-Chi that night, Goku had a sinking feeling that Chi-Chi didn’t believe him.

You have me, too. Why don’t you believe me?

After plans were drawn up to expand the Son Family home, Goku and Gyumao were eager to get started but Piccolo grumbled on how he was drafted for this job. Piccolo didn’t understand how it happened. Days ago, he was on Kami’s Temple talking to Goku and Gohan. They told him of Chi-Chi’s pregnancy. Piccolo thought of the secret baby pool he was in with Bulma, Vegeta, Krillin and all their friends and wondered if he had the closest date when he murmured an agreement to Goku that had him involved in expanding the Son Family home.  

“Why do I have to do this?” Piccolo picked up an eighty-pound bag of concrete mix from Gyumao’s air ship. Gyumao was in Goku and Chi-Chi’s house discussing the interior work that will be done while Goku and Piccolo unloaded his airship of supplies. Piccolo carried a cement bag on his shoulder as he followed Goku to where they will deposit their materials for the house expansion. “It’s not my home.”

Goku laid his concrete bag with the others. “You worked on the other expansion.”

“Under duress,” Piccolo reminded Goku as he lowered his bag. Chi-Chi insisted since Piccolo will be living with them for three years, he had to help out when she wanted and that meant helping with the repairs made to their home when Goku accidentally knocked her out of their home and into a tree. Piccolo argued against working but his protest didn’t work with Chi-Chi and with Goku and even Gohan defending her, Piccolo was left with no choice but to fall in line and do what Chi-Chi wanted. “I only helped because I lived with you while training for the Artificial Humans.”

Goku slapped Piccolo’s back. “And you did such a good job, we wanted you to help with this.”

“I only did a good job because your wife would’ve yelled at me if I didn’t,” Piccolo grumbled.

“You also didn’t want me to do better than you,” Goku teased. “Remember our driving test?”

“You were so panicked of your wife’s reaction to you failing I didn’t stand a chance to beat you.” It annoyed Piccolo that Goku got his driver’s license first and scored higher than him on the driving and writing test but he knew how determined Goku got when it came to Chi-Chi.

“You’re very happy about this,” Piccolo observed Goku as they returned to the ship.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Goku grabbed the remaining cement bag while Piccolo grabbed two cement mixers. “I did construction as a kid. It was part of my training. It’s not fighting but I like it. The skills came in handy when I built this house.”

“I mean you seem happy with having another kid.”

Goku turned to Piccolo confused. “Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

Piccolo thought it was obvious. “You didn’t return for Goten and you left Gohan alone with Chi-Chi.”

“I didn’t know about Goten.”  Goku dropped the bag of cement roughly on the ground. “And I thought I was protecting Gohan and Chi-Chi by staying away.” He talked about this with Chi-Chi. He owed an explanation to her but he didn’t like Piccolo intruding on what wasn’t his business. “I made a mistake. I know that.”

“I don’t know a lot about emotions….”

“That’s right,” Goku broke off Piccolo in a warning to not say anymore. “You don’t. There’s a lot you don’t understand.”

Piccolo heard the edge in Goku’s voice but he wasn’t swayed from voicing his thoughts. “I wasn’t the only one if it took you seven years away to understand staying dead was not the way to protect your family.”

“Piccolo, I appreciate you are a friend and mentor to Gohan. I appreciate you and everyone checking on Chi-Chi, Gohan and Goten while I was dead but that doesn’t make you an expert on my family.” Goku hated how annoyed he sounded at Piccolo. He was a friend who helped him a lot but Piccolo’s words rubbed him wrong.

Because I know it was a mistake to stay dead.

Every day since his return, Goku was reminded of that.

“I ain’t perfect. I missed a lot of Gohan and Goten’s lives. I spent too much time away from Chi-Chi. I know to you, my friends, it doesn’t look like it but my family’s important to me, Piccolo. I wanna be around for this baby. I don’t want it to have the gaps I have with Gohan and Goten.”

A redemption of fatherhood Piccolo guessed. But instinct told Piccolo something else troubled Goku. “It’ll make your wife happy to have you around.” Goku didn’t smile. Did he misunderstand? Piccolo thought Goku would be happy about that. He shook his head. “I’ll never understand Saiyans, Earthlings and your damn emotions.”

“Piccolo?” If anyone could tell him the truth, it would be him. He could go to Gohan but Goku didn’t want to worry his son. He also noticed how close Gohan and Chi-Chi have gotten since his death. He wasn’t sure Gohan would tell him everything he wanted to know in his desire to keep things peaceful. “How was Chi-Chi when I died? Was she really mad I didn’t come back?”

“Ah, hell!” Piccolo knew where Goku was going with this. “Didn’t you two talk when you came back?!”

“We did, and things have been good, but we talked about the baby and Chi-Chi worried telling me because I’ve been gone a lot.”

“Her worries are justified.”

“I know.” Goku’s word was his bond but with Chi-Chi, he had broken it and her heart many times. He needed more than his word to prove himself to Chi-Chi. He wanted Piccolo’s thoughts on what to do when Piccolo walked off. “Where are you going?”

“I’m getting your wife. This is your problem and I’m not getting in the middle of this marriage drama!”

“Tuh,” Goku snorted. “You were fine gettin’ involved when ya judged me thinkin’ I wasn’t happy about the baby.”

But anxiety crept in Goku when Piccolo disappeared into his home. He heard yelling from Piccolo and imagined Chi-Chi coming out of the house screaming or crying. When the door opened, he braced himself for an angry wife but Chi-Chi wasn’t angry. She walked to him worried and that made him feel even worse. Chi-Chi’s worried face reminded Goku of what Dr. Barkley said.

“Everything looks good but you are in a geriatric pregnancy, Chi-Chi. There are more risks involved with you especially with you carrying a child of Saiyan blood. You are at a higher risk of high blood pressure, gestational diabetes, genetic issues with the baby, a premature birth or in the worst case, a stillborn baby.”

Dr. Barkley warned Chi-Chi to take it easier and even if she’s not tired, to rest. She advised cutting back on some of her duties and allowing others to shoulder some of it. When Chi-Chi explained this, Gohan stepped up immediately offering to assist in cooking, cleaning; anything so Chi-Chi wasn’t doing everything. It led Gohan to make color-coded charts assigning everyone duties. Goten initially complained but he was coming on board knowing this was helping Chi-Chi and the baby.

Not even three months into this and I’m causing problems.

“So….” Chi-Chi finally said when she reached him. “Piccolo said you wanted to talk to me.”

“What were his exact words?”

Chi-Chi did her best Piccolo impression. “‘Son has marriage drama and I want no part of it!’”

“It ain’t drama,” Goku felt his body getting warmer. “I’m just thinkin’ about things.”

“About the baby?” Chi-Chi put a hand on her stomach and tenderly rubbed it. Because of the flowing dresses Chi-Chi has been wearing lately, no one could tell she was pregnant. Goku could see some signs such as Chi-Chi’s face being fuller. She tried to hide that by wearing her hair down instead of up in its usual bun.

“I’m happy about the baby,” Goku wanted that to be clear. “But after your appointment… I’m nervous.”

“I am, too.” Hearing she is in a geriatric pregnancy, the changes in her compared to her carrying Gohan and Goten and the unknowns of carrying a half-Saiyan child later in life made her nervous. Dr. Barkley ordered she take it easier even when she’s not tired. Chi-Chi kept an upbeat attitude but sometimes, she did worry about any effects that could befall their child. “I hope it’s a healthy baby.”

“It will be.” There was no doubt in Goku’s mind about that. Even if he had to use the dragon balls, Chi-Chi and the baby will be healthy and safe.

“Then why are you worried?”

Goku exhaled, worried about Chi-Chi’s reaction. They had to wait another month but Chi-Chi was giddy thinking this child is a girl. He didn’t want his worries to disappoint Chi-Chi. “I’m worried if it’s a girl.”

Chi-Chi’s lower lip trembled. Oh, no. This was bad. She was going to cry. “You don’t want a girl?”

“No, that’s not it.” He took a step to Chi-Chi to comfort but Chi-Chi stepped away rejecting him. He had to be quick or Chi-Chi will break down in tears. If that happened, Gyumao, Gohan and Goten would come out. Gyumao and Gohan would worry but Goten would be mad at him. “I was expecting another boy since that’s all we’ve had.”

Chi-Chi caressed her stomach. She looked guarded but open to hear what Goku had to say. “If you are worried about handling a girl, I think you’ll do a good job. You’ve always been good with kids, Goku.”

“It’s not that.” Goku rubbed his neck unsure of how to explain his feelings. “I left Gohan and Goten. I see the effect it has on them. I saw what my leaving did to you. If we have a girl, I don’t want her going through that but I can’t stop it if it happens.”

It was the first time Chi-Chi heard Goku speak like this. He had the mindset of boys being tougher and capable of going through things. It was that mindset that eased some of his guilt for putting Gohan and Goten in the situations they’d been in. Thinking that they are having a girl concerned Goku but it made Chi-Chi smile. It gave her more hope Goku would do all he could to stay with their family.

She stepped to him.

“We don’t know the future, Goku. What happens will happen but I know you’ll do everything in your power to not leave us.”

“I will,” Goku caressed her face. Chi-Chi didn’t flinch. She leaned into his touch. “I don’t want to be away this time.”

“I know,” Chi-Chi kissed the palm of his hand. “I know you’re lying.”

“I’m not!" Panic laced through Goku’s voice. What did he have to do to convince Chi-Chi? “I’m serious, Chi-Chi.”

Chi-Chi shook her head at him. “I think you’re lying about why you’re worried if it’s a girl. Truth is, Goku, you’re worried our daughter will be like me, and we know you can’t win against me.” She was smirking. “You left to marry me and you didn’t see your friends for five years. You’ve gone to work because of me. You got your driver’s license because of me. Another me will have you wrapped around her finger.”

Goku genuinely smiled. He hadn’t thought about the positives of having a daughter but Chi-Chi was right. If they have a girl and if she looks and acts like Chi-Chi, Goku knew he was done for. Gohan was spoiled a lot by him as a child. He carried Gohan when Gohan told him he was tired and Goku knew he could walk on his own. He gave him extra sweets and snacks when Chi-Chi told him Gohan had enough. For his first birthday, Goku brought Gohan a real dinosaur to play with. Chi-Chi and Gyumao nearly had a heart attack but the joy on Gohan’s face was worth Chi-Chi yelling at him later. It would be ten times worse with a daughter. If she wanted a unicorn, Goku would give her one even if it meant making a wish to Shenron.

 “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Goku enclosed his arms around Chi-Chi, happy they were passing this tiny obstacle and knew whatever they faced in the following months, they’d handle it together.

[hawnks]

coincide pt. v

previous

series rating: r18 (explicit)

hawks (takami keigo) x reader

word count: ~4,800

[soulmate au, slowburn, UST as a plot device, avian keigo, allusion to depression, hurts hurts hurts until it doesn't anymore right?]

warning: canon-typical violence

Summary: You’ve got a talent for melodrama, huh?

.........................................................................

His sabbatical is lengthy and non-broadcast. They’d wanted him to take a respite, recuperate, maybe go sit under a waterfall. You’re not yourself, his handler told him. We need Hawks. Not whatever ghost has taken his place. It’s dangerous to keep masquerading as someone who’s heart is in it one hundred percent. That kind of half-assed heroing will get someone killed, one of these days.

They book him a room at a historical hotspring, set up an itinerary with huge swaths of time dedicated to “Rest.” He leaves the hotspring, and the country, without telling anyone.

He goes to Taiwan, to help with some underground hero work. Then France, then Egypt. Most of the jobs are espionage, kept under wraps, need-to-know basis. The rest are off the books altogether. He flies most of the way himself, just so he can pass out each night, bone-tired, and wake up in the morning with nothing but open air behind him. 

Everything hurts, the muscle strain and the altitude headaches and the canned coffee he mainlines just to keep from falling out of the sky on overnight journeys. There’s a pressure in his chest that won’t let up, a constant squeezing sensation that feels like shortness of breath, like drowning. Like all the air sucked out of the world, and Keigo, alone, fighting to stay afloat. 

Maybe he should get that checked out. 

But then, there’s no time to think about the future. He keeps his schedule tight, barely a second to blink between each mission, let alone book a session with his Commission appointed doctor. Besides, it’s pointless, anyway— 

All of it. 

He fights, draws blood, garners secret and dangerous intel. He sits down for dinner with ambassadors and heroes revered among their people. But there’s no glory to any of it, no reverence left in him. 

He imagines himself, a glassy-eyed, shiny little kid. How deeply he would have felt these accomplishments, these feats. Now all he feels is a vague sort of wistfulness. Like he’s already an old man, been through, seen it all. 

“What the fuck, Hawks,” his handler says over the phone. It’s been three weeks since he left, the first time he’s answered their calls. “You can’t just abscond without telling anyone.”

“Abscond?” he returns, with a genuine laugh. “Like I’m a thief?”

“You are an asset to the Commission,” the handler returns. “And you have responsibilities.”

“I’m on vacation,” Keigo tells him, and hangs up. 

And he tries (really, he does), to handle things in a productive way. He reads several (more than three!) listicles about top ten ways to get over a breakup, until he realizes that the two of you were never actually together. He’s not sure what to google for that. Unearned heartbreak? Severed soulmates? Miss her so much it feels like dying? But not even just the idea of her, or our apparent future, or the pretty thoughts about destiny? Miss the way she smells and the weird way she holds her chopsticks? Miss the way she laughs, and the sound of my name on her tongue? Miss her and miss her and miss her and miss her—

He tries the listicles. Does the self care thing, bubble bath, kitschy facemasks and all. 

And — he sees paramors in every country he visits. People from his past who fawn over him, praise him, adore him. They draw his jacket from his shoulders, and it smells like sweat and ozone. They find the tiny, secret clasps on the back of his uniform, unwrap him like a present.

“Pretty boy,” they call him. Coy and sweet. Hands so sure and eager as they caress his body. 

And he winces. Takes a step back. “Can we just—” he says, running a hand through his unruly hair. It’s getting too long. He’ll have to cut it soon. “Can we just talk?”

They all agree, sure, whatever he’s comfortable with. But the tension never leaves the room, no matter how long the small talk carries on for. Because he can claim fatigue or headaches or just not feeling it all he wants. But he could never admit the truth. How dirty he feels closing the door with another body in the room. How he cringes at the touch of another. How it’s— you. Always. On the back of his mind, at the base of his throat. Behind every turn and inside every decision. You.

You, you, you.

And the constant, painful reminder — 

The feeling isn’t mutual. 

...

The wedding is beautiful. 

Everything goes perfectly. The whole event looks like something off a trip-advisor page, beautiful but quaint, elegant yet intimate. The food is delicious, the cake so moist it melts in your mouth. Even the weather is sunny and mild, as if the powers that be wouldn’t even stand in the way of today. 

You wish you could give everything the attention and admiration it deserves. 

On the trip up, you imagined that maybe this would be just the thing to pull you out of your month long stupor. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but it’s hard to resist the rustic charms of this place, and the inherent joy of the other guests. 

Soulmate weddings are commonplace nowadays, but no less special for their frequency. There’s an indescribable quality of felicity to them. A rightness, like everything is happening exactly as it should, like everyone is exactly where they need to be. It’s something of a comfort to guests and to the couple themselves; what’s meant to be will happen. And there’s nothing anyone can do, no force of nature that can stop it. 

You try to enjoy yourself. Try to take in the ambiance, the good company. And it’s nice, for the most part. Really, it’s a lovely day, and if it weren’t for the strange tightness in your throat, constantly, you might even have been able to enjoy it.

You throw up in the bathroom, after appetizers, while the first plates are going around. You’ve been drinking, already too much, and on an empty stomach. You have half a mind to simply tap out for the night, but you can’t leave your friend tonight of all nights. Especially not when she keeps turning to you, elated, to make some silly joke, or to sigh and squeeze your hand with a dreamy smile. 

You sneak out when the party begins to pick up pace, leaving the revelry and crawling out a backdoor, into the insipid chill of encroaching night. You find a nice little staircase alcove, planning to settle down for a few minutes, but the sudden sight of another person on the stoop takes you aback. Even more so when you realize it's the groom himself, taking a drag on a cigarette.

You’ve never officially met, until today, and even that was just pleasantries, no time to talk. You’re not sure how to approach this situation; a part of you instinctively wants to apologize, but that would just make things even more awkward.. 

He peers at you, waiting for you to say something. But you don’t, so he does. 

“My last one,” he says, holding it up in salute. “I was thirteen, when I started. Thought I was a real rebel. It turns out I was just an idiot.” He looks at the cigarette, a strangely wry smile on his face. “Could never work up the nerve to stop, but… she hates it, so I’m quitting.” 

“A nice wedding gift,” you say, gathering yourself. You come to lean against the metal railing next to him. It’s cool against your bare arms, and you relish the sensation, the shock of it enough to keep you grounded, for the moment. 

“Ah,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Not a gift. Just… wanna make her happy.”

You look at his hand, the cigarette already halfway done. It smells different than any other you’ve encountered before, oddly mild, almost floral. And it makes something inside you well up, the thought that a life could be changed so wholly, so staunchly. 

You think, how special, to have someone who breaks bad habits for you.

It’s enough to cause you to burst into tears. Before you can stop it, your whole face is wet, and your breath is coming out in hiccuping gasps. 

The groom looks on, terrified. He stubs out his cigarette on his heel before handing you, of all things, a handkerchief.

He says, timidly, “Wanna talk about it?”

It takes a few long, awkward minutes before the initial wave of misery subsides, and you can speak. 

“Fuck.” You wipe your nose, unattractively, with his handkerchief. You shake your head. “Nah. It’s your wedding. Go have fun.” 

The groom shrugs. “I’m not one for spectacle. This is for her. Later, when we’re alone and eating pizza in bed, that’s for me.”

That’s nice, you think despite yourself. It just sounds — very nice. 

“She told me,” the groom says after a minute. “About your… soulmate, thing.”

You shrug. What else could you do? There’s nothing to be said. You’ve moralized and offered platitudes your whole life. You’ve lied and said you were content. But here, at your one best friend's wedding, alone, there’s no more slack to give. You’re faced with the truth lying at your feet, like a dead bird. 

You’re alone and it’s so hard. 

“She loves you. That’s never going to change,” the groom tells you. “Even if a lot of other things do.”

You think about that for a moment. Nod. “Yeah,” you say. “I know. Thank you.”

It takes you a few more minutes to calm down, fully. You’d tell him to go back inside, but you get the odd sense that he doesn’t really care that you’re crying in front of him, that he’s not as uncomfortable as you might have expected him to be. So the two of you hover there, on the stoop in the dark, until finally, you feel centered enough to rejoin the festivities. 

You brush off your dress. You offer him a hand up. 

“I can see why she likes you,” you tell him as the two of you make your way back inside. The instant heat upon walking through the door almost makes you wince. 

“Aw, nice,” he says, grinning. “Best friend stamp of approval.”

...

Keigo’s first stop, once he’s back in Japan, is a convenience store. The second is Enji Todoroki’s temporary, secret residence. 

It’s a small house, on the outskirts of a small city. Barely any thru-traffic on the streets. Most of the population is in their later years. No one recognizes Keigo as he trawls the street, looking for the discreet entrance. It’s hidden by a wall of laced kudzu vines. 

Enji is slow to answer the door. Keigo sent a text to say to expect him soon, but who knew if the other man saw it. He hasn’t been himself lately. 

When he finally opens the door with a grunt of surprise, Keigo just holds up his plastic bag in greeting. The outline of six tall boys is prominent. 

“I haven’t had alcohol in 20 years,” Enji says, his voice without inflection. Still, he takes the bag, leaving the door open in his wake for Keigo to shuffle in after him. 

The living arrangements are spartan. Hardly any furniture, and what comforts they offer is slim. Hard, cold surfaces. No throw cushions, or blankets, or pictures on the wall, or magazines bookmarked with old receipts. No sign of life at all, save for the single pair of shoes, tossed in a careless pile at the door.

The pair sit on the floor in the middle of what is probably the living room. There’s no furniture at all, here. The tatami is worn to softness beneath them, ages old. The combination makes everything feel stark, exposed. There’s a vulnerability to an empty house, no places to hide, no way to obscure yourself. 

They drink in relative silence. Keigo arrived in the late afternoon, and the day passes into night without obstruction. No one gets up to turn on the lights when the sunset fades into ashen stars, both of them content to sit there in the dark. 

It’s easier like this, almost a waking dream. Neither of them have been sleeping well, taking care of themselves. 

It’s been a long time since Keigo has drunk, too. Soberness was his default, an expectation of the job. Heroes don’t get days off, not really. There’s always the expectation that if some disaster should occur, they will be able to rise to the occasion. That doesn’t mesh well with substance use. 

Occasionally, Keigo will have a glass, to keep up appearances. But he can’t remember the last time he felt like this, tipsy, a mellow warmth settling beneath his cheeks.

Moonrise turns everything to shadow. Like this, tall, dark, and faceless, Enji finally speaks. 

“I wish I’d done things differently,” he admits. His voice is no longer booming, and proud. It’s quieter than Keigo has ever heard it. “I wish I could have seen that more than honor or strength, what they needed was… kindness.”

“It’s not too late,” Keigo says, but the words are empty. How would he know? He’s never had to consider these things before. Never had terrible, all-consuming regrets before. 

“In some ways,” Enji says. “Society would have you believe that amends are as simple as an apology,” he says. “But I will be paying for my mistakes for the rest of my life. And it still won’t fix everything. Some things are broken forever.” 

“That’s convenient for you, too,” Keigo says. He peers at Enji, eyes bright, intent. “In some ways.”

Enji peers back at him, expressionless.

“Now they’re tied to you forever, like you said,” Keigo explains. “You can’t fix things, but you can keep them.”

“That’s not my decision to make.”

Keigo’s response is quick, brusque. “Isn’t it?” 

He realizes he’s leaning forward, too tense, too defensive. This isn’t about what it’s about anymore. It’s not about anything, really. He sinks back into a relaxed posture, reestablishing his practiced nonchalance. He takes another sip of beer. His hand is trembling.

“No,” Enji says, simply. “It’s not.”

The pair fall back into silence. Enough has been said, for one night. 

...

Kirishima sends you home. 

It’s the last thing you’d expect, after taking several days off for the wedding. You come in early, ready to elbow through a backlog of work, only to find the floor already bustling with a small crowd of unfamiliar faces.

It’s about eight people, total. Some of them are heroes. You can tell from the way they’re dressed, the way they hold themselves. Kirishima is in the middle of them, more dour than you’ve ever seen him. 

He comes to you, when he spots you, skirting his way around the visitors to meet you at the door. 

“Ah.” He rubs the back of his neck, glancing back at the group he left behind. “Why don’t you head home for today? This is all kind of, uh. Not safe for you.” 

“Should I be…” you try to glance around him, get an appraisal of the situation, but he’s such a mountain of a man that he takes up nearly your entire field of vision. “Like, worried?”

“No,” Kirishima is quick to say. “No, everything is going to be fine. But this isn’t quite your area of expertise, and I don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire.”

He’s taken on his hero mien, shoulders back, a little more tense than usual. His tone is kind, but unmoveable. Leaves no room for arguments, or questions.

“Okay,” you say slowly, still a little unsure about all of this. “But you’ll let me know if you need help, right?”

Kirishima smiles at you, but not in a condescending, what would a small-fry like you be able to do, way, like any other hero might. His affection is so stalwart and genuine, his friendship so gentle. It only makes you worry all the more, for anytime that the goodness of Kirishima Eijiro might be at risk, that humanity might be deprived of him, for any moment, in any way. 

He holds out a fist, and you knock knuckles, shakily. “Promise,” he says. 

Then he pats you on the back, subtly steering you back to the elevator, away from whatever catastrophe he now has to face, alone. 

You have a vague idea of what all this might be about, but who knows what might have changed in the three days you’ve been away. The hero world moves at a breakneck pace, and it seems like you’ve fallen out of the loop. 

You think about the classified documents you’ve sorted through, the cases piled up on your harddrive. You’ve seen enough of past villainy to know that it’s not all stars and stripes and showing up at exactly the right moment. There’s a lot of accidents. A lot of almost made it, so close. Sometimes, the heroes just aren’t fast enough. Sometimes they make mistakes. 

It’s a job that risks more than one life. A burden on all fronts. If a hero dies, odds are many other lives get taken down with them. It’s why Kirishima wants you kept away from whatever is going on. The big bold word of the hour — casualty. Someone adjacently related to the incident, an unnecessary death. You’re not strong enough to protect yourself, not the way you’d need to, to exist in the same space as the heroes. Not enough to protect someone else.

Everything feels strange and uneasy. Like you’re teetering on the knife point of something huge. But you can’t fit all the puzzle pieces together, no matter how long you mull it over. It’s been like this for so long, you can’t trace back the origin of this foreboding feeling. Maybe you’ve always felt this way. You try to recall a time you’ve felt completely at ease, comfortable in your own skin, but you come up short, unable to pinpoint a moment, unable to figure out why not. 

You spend the rest of your day in PJs on the couch, eating icecream straight from the tub, fretting and fretting. Wondering when the anchorpoint of your life became fear. 

...

His next stop is the Commission HQ. 

No matter that he hasn’t slept in forty-nine hours. The Commission has already figured out that Keigo is in-country, and there’s work to be done. 

Firstly, he’s reprimanded. Loudly, and for a solid fifteen minutes. 

This is interrupted by a handler conspicuously walking right between him and the higher ups, and dragging him bodily out of the room. Keigo allows himself to be hauled away, waving as he goes. 

He’s asked to report on a number of missions he underwent while he was away. Provide details, recall key facts. He took diligent notes, but a lot of things require his own explanation, or follow up information. This takes up almost the entire day. Suddenly he regrets keeping so busy, over the past few weeks. 

It’s already late, late into the evening by the time he sets foot in his own agency. Things are quiet. There’s not much work to be done when Keigo himself is not around, so it’s unsurprising that most of the night workers have taken off. 

It’s nice to have a little privacy, even with another handler tailing him as he takes stock of the building. Nothing much has changed. Even his office is spotless. For some reason, he’d expected dust to have gathered in his absence, but of course the cleaning people would never let that happen. 

It’s almost like he hadn’t left, at all.

Exhausted, he intends to make one final stop at his locker before heading home. He just needs to grab another flight suit, dump his dirty ones in the hamper, to be cleaned. 

He’s still carrying around the bag he traveled with. He hadn’t taken much; his mode of transport doesn’t allow for heavy packing. He took the essentials, a few toiletries, a few flight suits, one spare change of civilian clothes. He dumps all of it in the bottom of his locker, to be sorted through when his bones feel less likely to melt out of his body altogether. 

He took one personal effect, and it stares at him from the top of the pile. The sweater he’d nabbed from your place. On nights he did sleep, he slept with it. Wrapped around him, or bunched up in his arms. It’s no longer soft, handled so much that the fibers had been worn to crimped bone. It had stopped smelling like you after the first week or so. Even with his heightened senses, eventually all traces of you were lost, the altitude and his own body overwhelming your scent. 

It was pointless to hold onto. It didn’t stave off the cravings, only made him remember all the times he had actually touched you, your skin, your hair. Felt your breath, or heard your voice. Dead weight, unnecessary baggage for his long trips. Still, he couldn’t get rid of it, no matter how many times he told himself he would leave it at whatever hotel he ended up in that night. Some mornings he would slip it on, pull it tight around himself, until he felt the constriction, until he thought the threads might snap under his grip. But the craftsmanship of it was impeccable, and it survived his rough treatment, and he would spend those mornings with the not-quite comfortable fabric wrapped around him, watching the sun rise miserably.

He shuts the locker door. Maybe this will be the end of it, now.  

He sends the handler home, assuring him that he’d be up and at ‘em at the crack of dawn tomorrow. The handler doesn’t look especially reassured, but there’s nothing to be done now, and he’s ready to call it quits himself.

Alone on the office floor, finally, Keigo takes a moment to just breathe. He closes his eyes for a moment. Tries to shut out all thoughts. They’d taught him to meditate as a child. He’d alway thought it a pointless endeavor, but now he kind of wishes he’d paid better attention, that he could simply will away his mind like turning off a light.

He barely has a minute to try. Someone clears their throat, asking for his attention. 

He turns to them with a smile. “What’s up?”

He recognizes the young man. A PA, hired a few years back. 

“Intel for you, Sir,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to wait until tomorrow to take a look.”

Keigo motions for the file in his hands, flipping through it as soon as he has it. No sense putting things off.

The PA explains, “The task force has discovered a list of addresses. Around half of them are the residence of record for established heroes. Another handful are homes that heroes have kept off the books. The one connection they all seem to have is that they are currently occupied by at least one civilian, as well.”

Keigo nods, peering at the list. 

The PA says, “Right now we’re operating under the assumption that these are a list of targets.” 

Keigo had assumed. With the momentum gained from Rei’s attack it would figure that the villain would keep going. Attention tends to spur on bigger and more intense feats.  

“Who else knows about this?” Keigo asks. 

“Only heroes assigned to the task-force, sir.” 

“No one from the Commission?” 

“The intel came to us from Deku’s agency,” he returns. “The Commission will receive the information as soon as Deku has convened with his people.” 

Keigo nods again, then returns his attention to the page. The first step would be to mobilize the people at these residencies, but how to do that without alerting the culprit would take some creative problem solving. The page is nearly full, numbers reaching toward the margins.

Still, despite the massive amount of work to come, this is a step in the right direction. 

He’s about to hand the file back to the handler and pay a visit to Deku’s agency himself when something catches his eye— 

Your building address, and next to it your unit number. You. 

He’s out the door and in the air in ten seconds, flat. 

...

The last thing you expect is to see on your impromptu day off is your door literally being cracked at the hinges.

The second to last thing is the man you haven’t heard from in weeks, pushing past you, stalking straight inside like he owns the place.

He looks… not great. He’s definitely lost some weight. There are horrible, dark circles under his eyes. His hair is a little longer than he prefers. He smells like how he always smells after taking double patrols, like sweat, and the city, and the sky. 

Has he been taking care of himself? Has anyone been looking after him?

“Get what you need,” he calls. “We’re leaving.”

He starts grabbing things himself. Your cardigan. The book you’re reading. Your sturdiest pair of shoes. His arms are full by the time you can work up the nerve to respond. Even then it sounds like more of a squeak. 

“Keigo?” 

He glances at you. He’s breathing hard. “Why aren’t you packing?”

“Because,” you sputter, “what the hell?” 

You reach for him. Then pull away. You take a step back, but you’re too unsteady on your feet to do anymore than that. Your legs might just give out, anyway. 

You’re reeling from his appearance, not able to make sense of any of it. Maybe you’re dreaming. But —

He’s standing right in front of you, the brightest thing in the room. If he were a little closer, you could feel his warmth. 

It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, it feels like you should have forgotten what he looks like. But it’s just the same as always, him in your space. Feels so right, even when everything is all turned around like this. Recognition, in its basest form.

He leans in toward you. Opens his mouth, about to say something. From this angle, oddly, he looks like he might be about to bite you, the subtlest hint of teeth, his breath still leaving him in heavy drags. Like a predator, all keyed up and ready. 

Like if you run, he’ll chase. 

You can hardly get the words out. “What’s happening?”

An expression crosses his features, a flash of emotion that’s gone in an instant. A tick of remorse, disconsolate. Then he’s back to his unshakeable, placid smoothness. 

“You’re not safe here,” he says. It’s a tone he’s never taken with you before. Stern, cool. 

You have a hundred more questions, but they’re like little dragon flies, flitting around your skull. You keep grasping for them, but missing. You can’t figure out what to say. You can’t figure out what’s happening. 

Then —

You taste it, before anything. A metallic twinge to the air, like an ink blot of blood, coins on your tongue. 

Suddenly, your center of balance is off. You’re falling, bracing, falling. But not falling, because Keigo has you in his arms, hauling you, painfully, in some direction. 

A noise you can feel in your bones, that makes you think your teeth might fall out from the force of it.

You’re airborne. You think you might vomit. The night is whip-cold but also brutally, violently hot. 

—Falling. Again. For real, this time. 

You feel the soft brush of grass. He’s pressing you into it. He’s shifting you on top of it, rolling you.

“Are we on fire?” you gasp.

“Not anymore,” he returns.

His hands are all over you, bracing, touching, searching. Your skin is oddly numb. You can’t quite tell which way is up, anymore. You can barely hear anything, the whole world muffled, static. 

Somewhere, in the dark you catch a glimpse of molten light, and the sluggish neurons of your brain struggle to the conclusion that your home used to be there. Everything that’s yours used to be there. Now lit up, glowing like a midnight sunrise. Blinding you. But you can’t look away. 

Keigo’s on you again. All around you. He has a better grip on you, now. Not painful anymore. 

Two flaps and you’re airborne again, clutching to him with all your meager strength. Being clutched in return.

The heat from the flames follows you up, licks into the sky, and you think you must still be burning, you have to be. 

But Keigo has a hold of you, so tight and visceral it swallows all your thoughts, all your fear, and eventually you make it far enough that the ash is distant, and the night swaddles you like a cool blanket. 

“You’re okay,” Keigo is whispering, lips against your crown, your temple. “I got you. I’m sorry. You’re okay.”

Distantly, you realize he’s been saying it this entire time. 

[gloomyclauds]

Sooo... I’m sick. I think it’s just a cold. Either way, I’m pissed that I always seem to get sick when I actually get time for myself 🥲 But I can't help but wonder if my dizziness has to do with something else entirely.

tw:anxiety // tw:eatingdisorder

I started a new medication, the day before I started feeling sick, and I’m hoping some of my symptoms don’t have to do with that. But I’m honestly freaking out a bit.

To sum up, ever since the pandemic, my acne has been really bad. And even though it’s over now, I still wear a mask everyday at work, which makes my skin horrible. I finally managed to get an appointment with a dermatologist and I was diagnosed with adult acne, and I have to take medication which has a lot of side effects. But what’s stressing me out the most is the fact that it can lower my blood pressure, and apparently (after reading the info paper) it can make me lose weight. I’ve struggled to gain weight all my life. It only improved after I was diagnosed with anxiety and started taking medication. Literally after a two weeks of doing the treatment, I gained 10kg, by eating what I normally would. So the thought that something could potentially make me lose that weight is freaking me out, and I wish the doctor would’ve mentioned it, as I am still very skinny. I weight the minimum for my height, and after years of trying, I can’t get past it, but at least I'm healthy. And I don’t want to lose what I managed to achieve and maintain all these years.

I always feel weird talking about it, because most people don’t even believe me when I tell them I struggle to gain weight. They think I simply don’t eat, and that it’s impossible for anxiety to cause this, even if I've been diagnosed and treated by a doctor. They don’t even believe me when I tell them I only used to weight 41kg, but I did. After turning 14 I stopped growing and gaining weight. This is something that has haunted me my entire life, and I’m finally happy with my body. I never want to hear comments about how skinny and sickly I look while at work, from family, or while going out, from people I don’t even know. I was diagnosed at 18, maybe 19, and I'm now 28. For years I didn't have to worry about my weight, until I read that stupid info paper.

Maybe I’m freaking out for no reason, it’s something that can happen, but that doesn’t mean it will. It's easy to be paranoid when so many of the side effects are the same ones you'd feel from a cold. But it sucks if my only option for treatment is to either be very skinny or have horrible skin. I can’t win. I can’t even get another appointment right now as I work a night shift, and during the mornings I have to take care is my mother.

I don’t even know if that trigger warning is the right one for this kind of topic, I haven't been diagnosed with an ED, but as I talk about weight and weight loss, I just thought I'd be safe. And don’t worry, for now this could all be a cold and I just need to rest and stop worrying about things that haven’t happened yet. But talking about it helps 🙂 I’m also sorry this is super long, I just wanted to let you know what's up, since I've said I was going to start posting again soon.

[cookinguptales]

in the continuing adventures of "body, please be normal" I've been dealing with pretty awful GI symptoms for the past month, and they have finally resolved themselves in a frankly bewildering fashion.

it feels gross to talk about, but I guess it was other people being gross and talking about their own symptoms that helped me figure out what was going wrong with me so like. maybe this will help someone else.

(cut for talk about medical issues, particularly gerd, endometriosis, and mcas)

Now... I've been dealing with pretty severe acid reflux for several years now. It seems to be attached to hormonal changes in the body because it flares up when I'm on any kind of hormonal medication (including birth control) or my period is approaching. It tends to manifest in ENT symptoms because the acid gets up into my sinuses and it's a whole fucking mess.

(Best guess is that it's related to the endometriosis and potential internal scarring, but the docs are REALLY hesitant to open me up to see the extent of the scarring because the EDS means that I heal poorly.)

Since I came off hormonal birth control, it hasn't been nearly as bad. I used to have to take fairly high doses of omeprazole at all times, but now it seems to be sufficient to take small doses of famotidine when it flares once a month.

That said! It's been flaring more often and worse since late last year, and I've been experiencing a particularly bad flare that's lasted for about a month now. Not to be too graphic, but I've had pretty severe burns in my mouth and pretty extensive oral bleeding. It's been... not fun!

(plus other GI issues, but they've been relatively mild compared to the... blood...)

I've been taking both omeprazole and famotidine, my usuals, but it's barely made a dent in it. I have been, safe to say, In Hell, but I wasn't able to get an appointment with a doctor until late May so I've just been kind of putting up with it.

Yesterday I really wanted to go to a street festival and I was like... okay, who knows if I'll be able to eat anything because even broth and oatmeal have been making me sick, but we'll give it a try. And I took some allergy medicine because it's spring and -- it went away. All my symptoms went away.

I AM... BEWILDERED... but yeah like I took the allergy meds and my symptoms went from 90% down to like... maybe 10%. Not perfect, but very bearable. And when I took my acid reflux meds, it actually got a little worse...?

So today I am off all reflux medications and on quite a bit of allegra and I feel almost fine. I am incredibly bewildered. All I can figure is that this time, as opposed to my regular flares, things were caused by some kind of allergic reaction...? I'm not sure to what, as I haven't really done anything differently lately, but I guess it could just be environmental.

I googled and Dr. Google says that acid reflux can be triggered by allergies, which has me back in the "wait, is MCAS a thing that's been ruining my life??" place. It's a diagnosis that my doctors have been toying with, but I've never worried about it too much compared to the others. But I guess the GI issues I've been experiencing aren't too unusual to MCAS, where your body has weird heightened allergic reactions to a lot of things, so like. orz

I guess I have been so allergic to the universe that my body was trying to literally eat itself.

I'm still going to go to the GI doc in a few weeks and see what they have to say but like. I guess I just keep mainlining allegra for now. It's a thing I'll have to be careful with (allergy meds give me eye problems, so I guess I'll be doing eye drops 10x a day again) but it's better than the life I've been living! :')

I guess I'm just happy that I've found some kind of solution but like. jesus christ. what the heck.

[pccyouthleader]

Hedgehog Hodgepodge: A Story of Espionage, Confusion, and an Evil Plan Gone Haywire

Chapter 4: More Unanswered Questions

Shadow was mostly silent as he walked with Aurora to the YH program. Aurora was filling him in on what he’d missed the past several weeks. 

“Uncle Tails won an award for his contributions to technology. I think the name of the group was the Division for the Advancement of Technological Achievements, or something like that. Anyway, he asked for a private ceremony including only he and CC, and the members of the award committee. Dad was upset, but you know how things go whenever there’s a big party! The weird thing was that when we saw him later, Uncle Tails confessed that he had never heard of the organization.

“Uncle Knuckles and Aunt Rouge were working in the mine last week. They ran across a strange rock or something that no one’s ever seen before. In fact, I think Aunt Rouge went out of town and had it tested for precious metals. I never saw it, but she said it was smooth and round - something you wouldn’t normally see buried in a mine.

“Sticks is, well, Sticks. She found something recently in the woods outside her house and was convinced someone was watching her. But she pretty much comes up with a similar story at least once a week.

“As you know, mom’s been sick and Dad won’t leave her side. I hope they can find something out that can help her at the doctor’s appointment.

“As for me, I keep having this dream about a small blue hedgehog. I think it’s my dad when he was a kid, but I don’t know what it means. I haven’t told him about it since he has so much on his mind right now.” Aurora stopped and looked at Shadow. “You’re quiet. Will you tell me about your mission?”

“You know I can’t do that,” came his rather short reply. She asked him every time he returned from one of his extended assignments.

Aurora sighed. “Am I ever going to know what you’re up to when you’re away?”

“Not if I can help it,” he said. 

“Then I’ll just have to extract the information from you,” she said slyly, knowing Shadow had a hard time resisting her.

She started tugging him off the road in the direction of the little hill where they enjoyed each other’s company on pretty days.

“Wait,” Shadow sputtered. “Don’t you have to be at work?”

“I have a few minutes to spare,” she said. 

Shadow steeled himself for whatever was coming. He was well aware that Aurora wanted to wait for marriage before giving herself fully. But there were a lot more ways one could be persuaded.

—-

Aurora practically dragged Shadow to their meeting place. Once there, she made him sit down next to the tree and settled on the ground next to him. “Now,” she began, “why don’t you at least tell me where you traveled on this mission of yours.”

Shadow gave her a smoldering look. “Aurora, I am not going to discuss this with you.”

She leaned in close to him and batted her eyelashes. 

“Do you have something in your eye?” Shadow asked, confused.

“I’m fine,” replied Aurora in a seductive voice. “The thing is, there’s something I’ve been wanting to get off my chest…”

Shadow automatically looked down at the aforementioned area, then snapped his gaze back up at Aurora when he realized it. She knew she had him. Reaching somewhere behind her, she started leaning in closer.

“You’re so very…” (closer) “very…” (closer) “very…” (cloooserrrr) “AGGRAVATING WHEN YOU WON’T TELL ME THINGS!” Aurora thrashed him with a magazine from her bag.

“Aurora!” Shadow stammered. He reached out and clasped his hands around her wrists. She gasped in pain when she felt the strength of his grip. 

Shadow realized immediately and let go of her. “Aurora - Light - I am so sorry!”

“No,” she replied, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I don’t correctly gauge your reactions.”

There was silence between them for a few seconds, then Shadow spoke softly. “How’s this for a reaction?” he said, gently pulling her to him. He slowly moved his hand under her chin and tilted her face up to a tender kiss. A current of heat shot through Aurora, making her heart skip a beat. But it was short lived, as her reminder alarm went off on her watch.

“Ugh… guess it’s time to head to YH. I’m sorry again.”

“Don’t be,” said Shadow. “One day I’ll be able to tell you about the mission, but it’s too dangerous right now. I would never want to put you in harm’s way.”

Aurora nodded. She didn’t like being kept in the dark, but she understood his concern. She knew he cared very deeply for her. They slowly started walking back towards the road.

“Why don’t you come with me to YH? You could be a guest speaker! The kids will be dying to know more about you.”

Shadow crossed him arms. “I don’t do ‘guest speaking.’ That ranks right up there with fancy parties.” 

“But you did go to that fancy party with me,” said Aurora with a mischievous look.

“And you know how that turned out.”

“Yeah, I do.” Aurora hid a smile as she remembered the pillow fort Shadow had made with her dad.

“I have some things to take care of in the village, anyway. So you go ahead and I’ll meet up with you later.”

Aurora couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed. “Alright. Bye, Shadow.” She gave him a peck on the cheek and continued along the path to work.

[sir-arlieosaurus-lung-struggler]

the holidays are always really fucking weird, i dont like many of them but specifically December is just- ew

Anyway ill just thro my mini pitty party real quick:

These song explains how I feel about christmas time *perfectly*

Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas by mother mother (christmas playlist)

From heres basically a trauma dump about being in the hospital, but i typically talk about this in a tone more like "oh yea! i nearly died lmao"

When i was like, just turning 6 I had 💫pneumonia💫 & needed to go to the 💫hospital💫. So I spent like, 12/11-31/15 in the hospital. along the way i had these treats happen (not really in order, 💜=story from family member, ❤=i actually remember this)

💜being diagnosed by my sisters 16 yo boyfriend by looking at my gums, whereas medical staff took 4 days

❤Some mcdonalds, cool auntys banana bread, jello & making popin cookin sets w/ my older sister

💜a 5 day medically induced coma

lung surgery therefor cool fuckin scars on my back (WHICH I CANT FUCKING SHOW ANYONE CAUSE I WAS CURSED W/ TITS AND 2/3 ARE UNDER MY BRA)

💜waking up from said coma periodically only to say "im scared" w/ my mom trying to comfort me but i had ear shit going on

💜Finnaly actually woke up, yelled "IM DEAD", which is reportadly the scariest shit my dad has ever heard, my mom asks if i hurt, i say yes, she like "ur not dead honey" again i was 6 & in & out of a coma 😂 (idk why but I've always found that story funny)

💜my parents being thretened w/ truancy by my dumbass school

❤Christmas, I had *2* mini christmas trees in my hospital room 💅 1 was cool but my cool uncle & aunty got me a pink 1 which I still have to this day as a lamp

💜only trusting 1 of my doctors cause he looked like my grandfather who'd been deceased for 2years at that point

❤💜going on walks around the kids floor in a wheelchair & stealing a little gingerbread beanie baby ornament but they didnt care so they just let me keep it & i still have it somehwere.

💜my mom met a lady who had a son who was a few months old & they didnt expect to live past a couple weeks but he *did* (more on that later)

💜had food in the cafeteria and i proceeded to rub the pizza i got *into my hair*. My response? "Its just cheese" my family and I quote that to this day lmao.

💜being reverted to a toddler for a good minute (someone asked my age i said i was 3, i was not) & needing to relearn walking, talking, the little bit of reading i knew & getting into a shower w/out being scared of being pulled down the drain

❤said dude who asked my age worked at the hospital cafeteria & we visited him after most of my appointments. miss u uncle (that was what he went by), wish u well. Dont know where he since covid cause the part of the building cafeteria was in was torn down.

❤and after all that later and i got releaced on new years eve :>

results:

From there forward i had a 20-30minute nebulizer to do every 4 hours (which my parents had to wake up at like 2am for a half hour for), 2 twice daily inhailers, 2 nasil sprays, "the tire" (tastes like shit and makes me feel anxious) (that isnt even all of it my mom counted 8 meds at one point) and i slowly dropped them year by year till they had me down to just rescue inhailer as needed & if my lungs r really shit for a min i go on the tire. (Tire=prednisolone but what 6 year old is remembering that name lol)

specialist appointments every week, then 2 weeks, then every month, 3 months, 6 months, now im at checkup every year and check in as needed

"Look whos inside again" by bo burnham is my life in a nutshell

To this day the smell of a consentrated area of hand sanatizer just has me stop in my tracks lol.

seeing a picture of tiny me on my parents facebook feed yearly of me unconscious in a hospital bed w/ tubes in mah face

couple of close friend i met post hospital (keep in mind i was like 7) didn't believe me so i ran around the playground cursing them the fuck out (never did get in trouble for that 😂) ((I still talk to 1 of them shes cool))

Idk where to put this but about that kid I was talking about before, I found out last year around this time he had just died- of 💫pneumonia💫. yea that fucked me up for a good minute, he was around 6 too which didn't help, I never even met the kid and I still had a weird form of survivors guilt.

Anyway have a merry fucking christmas i really dont get this holiday lol, treat yourself kindly, feel free to be the grinch you are and explain in detail why u hate the holidays u arent alone lol

[my-moo-moo]

more to grow (chapter 1/4)

All throughout her life, Mina has always been the smallest and shortest of her class. She had hoped and prayed for a growth spurt once she reached puberty. That never happened. In fact, she stopped growing at fifteen, landing her at a permanent height at under five foot tall. 

As she got away from her adolescent years, she began to learn to love her body the way it was. Though, she never would’ve expected that she could’ve attracted a Scandinavian hunk who was quite well over a foot taller than her. 

Sometimes they would get weird looks when they would walk down the streets hand in hand. “People must think you’re grooming a teenager…” Mina pouted to her boyfriend. 

“I double-checked your driver’s license on our first date, so you’re good,” her boyfriend, Axel teased. 

Mina slapped his thickly corded biceps and whined. “I know I shouldn’t feel this way anymore, but there’s a small voice in the back of my head that wants to know what it’s like to look like a woman— to have boobs and curves for once. And not have to be under the knife to get it.” She shuddered. 

“You’re adorable just the way you are, but…” He grabbed her entire left butt cheek in his palm and pulled her close enough that she could feel his breath against her ears. It garnered a wrinkled face of disgust by an older couple walking past them. “I know a way we can get you what you want,” he whispered lowly in her ears. She raised her brow slightly now that he garnered her attention. “When I put my baby in you, your body will quite naturally change to accommodate...” 

Axel pulled away laughing and Mina let out a nervous chuckle. He said it as a joke, but ever since it was suggested, she couldn’t get the idea out of her head. 

.

It took Mina weeks to gather the courage to tell her boyfriend that she wanted to get off birth control. They weren't married yet and her cafe was just taking off. Axel agreed, figuring it would take at least a couple months for them to conceive like they had heard from their friends. 

They had decided to let nature take its course, but it didn’t stop them from fucking like bunnies after the decision was made. She swore her boyfriend had a deep-buried breeding kink from how easily he was turned on now that he knew she could get pregnant at any time.

Perhaps this was the reason why only one month later her nipples were on fire from rubbing against her cotton t-shirt all night. She ripped her shirt off in a haste and was confronted by her figure staring back at her through the mirror. Not only was her breast tissue swollen and puffy, her normally slate flat stomach had a softness to it. She knew right away they had succeeded, but she peed on three pregnancy sticks just to make sure.

They were all positive.

.

Thankfully, Mina did not suffer from morning sickness. In fact, she had grown a good appetite which was kind to her otherwise underweight frame. Ever since she first discovered her pregnancy, she had been steadily gaining weight. The weight went primarily to her abdomen. By the time she was ten weeks pregnant, she looked like she had a few too many burger meals in a day and washed it down with a pint of beer. That was why she wore an oversized sweater to her first ultrasound appointment. “I thought pregnancy was going to make me feel beautiful, but I just feel pudgy right now.”

“Be patient, my love.” Her boyfriend tucked a piece of her ebony hair behind her ear. “By the rate you are growing, I am sure you will be out of the awkward phase soon.”

Axel’s words were backed up by her doctor, Doctor Jones, who noted she looked like she was around 4 to 5 months pregnant.

“Our baby is really growing strong and healthy.” Mina smiled to herself with a hand to her stomach. Apart from her own self consciousness, she is proud of this at least.

Axel hummed. “It’s my baby after all. I was a solid eleven pounds at birth, along with the rest of my siblings.”

Mina’s eyes widened. It was probably not as big of a problem for his mother who was a much larger woman than she was. She didn’t want to think about how her scrawny body would push a baby that size out. “Hopefully our baby will inherit some of my compact Asian genes.”

Doctor Jones, who had been focused on the ultrasound screen, said, “You better be hoping for that for both of your babies.”

Mina whipped her attention to the screen. Turned out she had not only fallen pregnant immediately, but with two babies.

.

Mina should really listen to her boyfriend more because true to his words, in the following months, her body had grown from prepubescent boy-like to the Hollywood actresses she drooled over endlessly. Her narrow torso was accentuated with her newly widened hips and fattened behind. 

Her boobs have ballooned from an AA cup size to a good C. For someone who found bras an unnecessary hassle before, she found herself browsing lingerie sites during her free time. When her boyfriend saw the credit card bill afterwards, he couldn’t complain after she shushed him up with an unforgettable ride on his dick in her new black leopard print bra that made her cleavage pop impeccably. Her sex life has never been more active. 

And of course, her baby bump had grown relentlessly week after week. She couldn’t get enough of it— poking at the divets where her babies greeted her and hands stroking her bump absentmindedly all day. She looked like she was ready to pop any day and the customers at her cafe never failed to let her know that. She got many comments of concern as they watched her waddle through the cafe cleaning tables, making drinks, and lifting boxes. She would just laugh and say she had 3 months left to go and watch their faces pale. She couldn’t afford to take maternity leave so soon when her cafe was barely scraping by. 

.

At 30 weeks pregnant, it became glaringly obvious to everyone that Mina was not horribly overdue, but heavily pregnant with twins. Some would even say she looked like she was at full term for twins already, but she had 2 months left of growing. 

At her ultrasound appointment, Doctor Jones measured the babies at 5 pounds each. She noted that it was impressive they had a high weight percentile for their gestational age even though it wasn’t a singleton pregnancy. “You could have the babies any day now and they would be fine. I could schedule you for an induction or a c-section in a couple weeks if you’d like to end your suffering.”

Mina politely declined. “I can handle it. I would prefer if my labor progressed when my babies are ready to come out into the world.” And she wouldn’t admit out loud but, she was not ready to let go of her body just yet. She’s never felt more beautiful in her life. 

“I like that attitude. And maybe your babies’ growth will slow down as they run out of space.” Doctor Jones said.

Rather than slowing down, she swore that her babies were having a growth spurt. Her torso was naturally quite short. After filling out vertically, her belly shot outward to make more room to accommodate the growing babes, adding an inches per week. She went from having a tiny 25 inch waist to more than doubling her size within eight short months.

Barely any of the maternity clothes she had bought fit her anymore.  It made sense because her belly resembled more an oblong jackfruit sized mass, than the cute round bump most people had at full term. She couldn’t even pull the stretchy band of her maternity jeans over her overextended bump. At home, she would forgo any clothing (to her horny boyfriend’s favour), but that wasn’t appropriate for work. She resorted to wearing the same rotation of stretchy clothes that hugged every single curve of her body. No one could keep their eyes off her and her confidence boosted with every whistle she heard. She relished in the compliments, because that was something she never experienced before.

.

Everyone around her was saying she could go into labour at any time. Twins normally came early, they told her. At 38 weeks, her navel began to droop downwards, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of the sheer weight of the belly being pulled down by gravity or if it was because her babies have finally dropped into position. 

Nevertheless, her hospital bag was packed and ready in the trunk of her car. And her fretting boyfriend was always within hearing distance from her. She was still working in the cafe everyday and her boyfriend decided to quit his job to help out. It still wasn’t enough though. One of her main baristas quit recently, so she couldn’t take a maternity leave, let alone a day off, even if she wanted to. 

You would think that being busy on her feet all day and being pounded by her boyfriend at night would have gotten her labour going, but she only started experiencing sporadic Braxton Hicks. 

When her doctor saw her for her scheduled appointment, she only smirked at her figure and said, “You know when you first came in here and we discovered you were having multiples, I was concerned if you’d make it to term because you were just so itty bitty like a fairy. But now, I am assured your body is made to stretch.”

And stretch, she definitely has. Every night she sat in front of her floor length mirror, as she religiously rubbed her collection of lotions over her skin, not missing a spot. Her skin was stretched taut like a drum, especially around the rounded torso that spilled over her lap, but to her relief, she hasn’t found stretch marks yet. It was as if her milky white skin was meant to be pulled this size all her life. She trailed her hands obsessively over and over the distinct mounds on her figure. She hoped and prayed that her new curves were permanently molded on her frame even after pregnancy. Now that she saw how beautiful and decadent her figure was this way, there was no way she was going back to being stick thin.

[ohwynne]

TIMING: A few weeks ago PARTIES: Regan @kadavernagh & Wynne @ohwynne LOCATION: Office of the medical examiner SUMMARY: Wynne brings a dead bird to Regan, because this is how you bond with people. The two talk about their own backgrounds in vague ways, leaving to continued (mis)understanding. CONTENT WARNINGS: References to past abuse (within a cult).

Wynne wasn’t entirely sure how you were supposed to make friends, but it seemed that repeated interaction and gifts were two components to building up relationships with others. Ever since meeting Dr Kavanagh and her dead rabbit, there had been a nagging in their mind to see her again. While they liked and loved the people that had become constants in their life, none of them seemed quite in tune with what Wynne considered normal. This Regan, however, who spoke so wisely and with such insight about death and had handled that dead critter in a way Wynne had appreciated, felt a little bit like the people back home.

A bird had flown against the window at work, landing on its back in the soft soil where flowers grew in front of the shop. Wynne had put it in a box that had held coffee beans after watching it die. The box had been pushed to the back of the changing room and had been taken with them when their shift was over. Now here they were, standing in the lobby of the mortician’s office with the box in their hands and their wide eyes trying not to look too much at a woman called Marcy. 

Maybe this was a little strange, but they had never been very good at estimating when something was or wasn’t. It was as if all their standards for strangeness had been warped in the two decades they’d spent with the commune. They still felt a little awkward standing there, though, fingers digging in the cardboard as they rocked back and forth on their feet, only halting when the doctor appeared. “Hi!” Wynne smiled. “I hope it’s alright I stepped by. I found another … well, another dead little thing. I think my work might be a place where a lot of animal accidents happen.” One of their fingers tapped the box. “I thought you might want to see it.”

“You got another weird one here for you,” Marcy texted, “Looks kind of Midsommar? Has a box with something dead in it. You’re into that, right?”

Regan’s curiosity was piqued. It wasn’t often that she had people come to the morgue without an appointment, and even less frequently did they come bearing gifts. Who had brought her something? Was it Elias? No, he had little interest in scooping up remains outside of the confines of the medical examiner’s office. Kaden? Her chest tightened. Unlikely. Anita? They seemed to understand each other…

As Regan rounded the corner, she immediately saw just who was looking for her. And it felt like the most obvious answer in the world. “Wynne, hello.” Regan approached slowly, giving the child a curious glance. Even more interesting was the box in their arms, and the pulsating death that squeezed out of it from every side. Could Wynne feel it? No… surely not. But even before Regan’s abilities had been activated, death had its hooks in her. She knew they had something special. Maybe Wynne was the same, drawn to it even without understanding why. “Yes, it’s alright that you’re here. This is one of the few unexpected occurrences I truly do not mind. What do you have there?” She asked, preemptively pulling out her nitrile gloves and stretching them over her hands. “Better yet, why don’t you come with me? I’ll show you to my office. You may enjoy seeing it.” She gave Marcy a wave and carded herself and Wynne through the door, then down the winding hallway to her office. Familiar shelves full of skulls and a terrarium full of dermestid beetles greeted her. She gestured at the office space. “You can look around. Just don’t open any drawers or cabinets. So… how did you find this one? Does that happen a lot?” 

They were relieved when the doctor finally showed, starting to feel more and more uneasy while standing in that foyer with Marcy offering them occasional glances. Wynne didn’t much like being noticed — they’d had their fill of that, back home. The anonymity they’d found in the outside world was sometimes suffocating, but it was a good alternative. Holding a cardboard box with a dead bird in it, however, drew some attention.

“I’m glad it’s alright.” There were plenty of moments where they seemed to do things that weren’t alright without understanding why that was. But even from the few times they’d interacted with Dr Kavanagh, Wynne felt maybe the social conventions outsiders were so keen on didn’t occupy her mind much, either. They liked that about her. “Alright.”

As they followed her into her office, their eyes were wide with observant stares. They had never been in a building like this, though the sheer existence of a mortician’s office was so very interesting. The bodies at home were simply burned and then scattered, except for those in senior positions who were given a burial by lake. In the office itself, their eyes kept getting stuck on the skulls. It was somewhat like home, except more sterile and modern — but still somewhat familiar. Wynne put the box on Dr Kavanagh’s desk. “You have a lot of bones,” they said, genuinely impressed. They didn’t have that many, and certainly not in display — but they had been keeping their rabbit phalange under their pillow again. “It hit the window of my workplace and died moments later from impact. I was going to bury it but then I remembered you.” They frowned. “I suppose birds fly against windows more often than necessary, so yes, a lot.”

Wynne’s wonderment was palpable, and she let the child soak in their surroundings. Regan knew little of children other than their cruelty, but she knew that when she was Wynne’s age, this would have been a standout day, to be able to explore a medical examiner’s office. But was Wynne like her? She still didn’t know. Everything pointed to yes other than the sheer rarity of duine caillte.

“It was kind of you to think of me.” Regan said, looking at the box that was now sitting on her desk. She wanted to open it, but didn’t want to distract Wynne from their train of thought. And potentially speaking more about how frequently this happens.

“I mean, do you often find yourself finding remains?” Her eyes hovered over the shelves, all of those empty eye orbitals staring back at her with their dark sockets. She could feel their presences and pulls, tugging at her skin. Could Wynne feel it too? “What do you think of them?” She asked, wanting to prompt something revealing from Wynne. Perhaps she needed to give more to get something back. A fishing expedition seemed worth it. “Before I was – I mean, when I was a child, I would find dead animals. And dead humans, occasionally.” That Augusta’s PD was familiar with a 10 year old child due to her propensity for finding bodies was something that appalled her father. “It took many years for me to understand why and perfect my natural talent. But it was always there.” She gave Wynne a softening look, and picked an otter skull from the shelf. She offered it to the child, inviting it to be held and understood. “So tell me. What do you feel?”

It was hard not to think about the fact that burned in their mind: they had told Dr Kavanagh that the place they’d come from had sacrificed people. Murder was frowned upon in the outside world, especially premeditated it seemed, and Wynne found themself agreeing with that kind of attitude towards taking a life. The doctor hadn’t called any authorities though, as far as they knew (nor did they realize that maybe she was an authority), but had apologized. People seemed to do that a lot when they learned of their past. 

Maybe that was why they gravitated here now, wanting to offer something in return for the mild kinship they had felt and the comfort offered to through the internet. They stared at all the dead creatures. There had been some of those in their bedroom at home. “I don’t know many others who would appreciate it.��

The questions were odd, but everything was odd to Wynne. They shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I am observant in a way where I might see them, but I’m not really sure what’s ordinary in this case.”  There had been so many animal carcasses back home, from the animals they slaughtered at the altar, to the hunted deer that were skinned and eaten during feasts. There had been birds like these too, found by the kids in the woods. Skulls brought back and placed in small palms. “Humans?,” they repeated, looking at Dr Kavanagh with a look of interest and confusion. Wynne wasn’t fond of dead bodies, admittedly. There was something the other was implying, but they didn’t quite get what it was yet. “I’m glad you realized it.” That was just said to be polite, but in a sense they did mean it. There were many things Wynne still hoped to realize about themself. 

They took the skull, looking at it and then at Regan, who looked at them with a look that made them feel somewhat warm. It had been a while like someone had looked at them like this: like someone with potential. They didn’t want to disappoint. “I don’t know how to describe it. I guess I mostly feel some kind of reverence?” Wynne felt like there was a right answer, but they didn’t know it. They let their fingers slide over the bone. “Like even in dead this holds some kind of value and power, at least.”

“Humans, yes.” Regan nodded, supposing it was fair for that to strike Wynne as unsettling or unusual. “I found bodies. Homicides, mostly, that were dumped outside. I’d be walking to school with my brothers and find myself standing over human remains in an alley. The police knew me.” She hesitated. “It still happens.” Was any of that resonating with Wynne? She wasn’t sure. But the gentle way they handled the skull made her wonder if it actually mattered… even if Wynne was not like her, they were similar in so many ways. Cliodhna would always say humans lacked the capacity to connect with death, and though that seemed to be true the majority of the time, Wynne planted a small seed of doubt in her mind. 

“Your reverence for the dead is a special thing. A gift, some might say. Though it is a gift with a great burden.” If Wynne was indeed duine caillte. She didn’t want to have Wynne leave today without getting closer to the truth. Regan approached the box and gently lifted the bird from it, giving it an affectionate look. It was an ordinary swallow-like bird, maybe a purple martin, but its feathers seemed to glisten with hundreds of colors. She stroked its wing, which she noticed was bent at an unnatural angle, probably a byproduct of the window strike that took its life away.

She looked up from the bird, trying to keep her expression soft as she addressed Wynne. That was a hard thing for her to do, a rare look on her face. “Wynne, I am very curious about your background. I have wondered, at times, if we have more in common than you know. And if we do…” Then what? Regan wasn’t entirely sure. She wanted to keep Wynne safe. Wanted to see that they would never experience a dúiseacht. “Then we should discuss how you wish to proceed with the rest of your life.”

That was a strange thing for the other to have experienced, to still experience. Wynne listened quietly, trying to imagine it. Being young and finding random dead bodies. They might have been exposed to death at a young age, but it had always been anticipated — something about death at home had been planned and orchestrated. Not stumbled upon. “That must have been very strange. More than coincidence, right?” Such things didn’t just happen to most people, that was something they understood by now. Maybe Regan also came from a place different than here.

Their lips pushed together in response to that statement. “Gifts are so often burdens.” As was duty. As was life. As was this second chance they’d forced upon themself. “But I don’t know who I’d be without it.” So many people here were disconnected from mortality, weren’t they? Death was something that happened in their movies and television shows, that was shared about on social media but it was never treated the way it had been at home. With rituals and preparation. With reverence. With acceptance before the denial, the anger, the depression. 

When they looked at Dr Kavanagh she looked at them with a softness that invited Wynne in. Her question was probing, too close for comfort, especially considering all that they had already said. They were quiet, letting the words hang in the air — rest of their life, what did that mean? This already felt like the rest of it, every day lived in spite of it all a bonus day. “If you want to ask me questions I could try to answer them, but I’m not sure what you want to know now. But if we could have things in common, maybe it’d be good to know?” They swallowed. “You’re not going to tell anyone about what I told you before, right?” Because from what they’d gathered, the other did sometimes work with police. 

“No, I won’t tell anyone. It was long in the past, and any investigation would have ended. You aren’t bringing anything new to light and were not directly involved.” Though something tugged at Regan’s uncertainty. Was there more, something Wynne intentionally neglected to mention? Was there another reason why they might be fearful of authorities investigating? She kept her concerns close for now, and tilted her head in thought. “I have secrets, too. Ones that I believe you might share, even if you don’t know it.” 

She had never told a human this. She had doubts that Wynne was human, but she couldn’t say with 100% confidence, and thus, this was taking a bigger risk than she’d ever allowed before. Sure, there were some in town who knew of her true nature – Conor she told, and Metzli had somehow intuited it through knowing another – but it was not information she shared freely. “My family is unusual, too. Not all of it.” The part that matters, she thought, but struck down that ugly notion immediately. They were Cliodhna’s words, not her own. “What I’m about to tell you will probably make it seem as though I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. But I could prove it.” Which was not to say she would. Her stomach sank like a stone when she thought of someone looking at her like she was a monster, what that might be like. Regan set down the dead bird gently, like she was prepared to kiss it goodnight, and firmed up her decision to proceed. “I sense death. I feel it all around me, ever-present here.” She glanced around at the shelves of bones. “It draws me toward it, calls me. I wonder if it does the same to you.”

Regan paced a semi-circle around the room, the bones looking down at her. Each small presence sang against her skin. Everything she had explained so far had been the easy part, the parts she could retract and lie through her teeth that she had been speaking figuratively, and they could part ways and Wynne would think this was none other than a strange interaction with a kooky doctor. But she couldn’t stop at the easy stuff.

“My grandmother has a word, a name, for that – for things like me.” Several, actually. Leanbh. Child. Whelp. Hopeless. Beyond repair. “An instrument of death and diviner of fate.” Regan frowned, looking into Wynne’s eyes. “I don’t suppose you know what that name is.”

The authorities hadn’t been their largest concern since running away, but they had been one of them. There had been some laws broken by Wynne, with them sleeping in places where they weren’t supposed to and stealing food from time to time. And then, of course, their knowledge of ritualistic murders that happened every decade or so, that they were forbidden to speak of with outsiders. Despite their complicated feelings about the people they abandoned, they didn’t want police to come sniffing. “Okay,” they said, visibly relieved. “I appreciate it.” 

There was something about the doctor that seemed so wise, so knowledgeable, so calm. Wynne longed for adults like this in their lives, ones that felt steady, ones that listened and told them what to think while also asking them what they thought. All their life had been guided by strong, capable and cruel hands and now there were none but the ones they sought out. Dr Kavanagh had gentle hands, they thought. Ones that knew death the same way Wynne did. They listened to her speak, not thinking that she had lost her mind at all. Family structures other than their own didn’t make sense to them anyway, and there were none they had ever come across that were like theirs. But Dr Kavanagh didn’t speak of odd rituals, but rather something that seemed supernatural. Why not? Nothing here, in this town, seemed to subscribe to any rules. Nothing had subscribed to any rules at home either, besides the ones enforced by the elders.

Did it do the same to Wynne though? They had felt a pull towards death for years, if only because of its imminent and constant presence. Jac had died on the altar and they’d watched, quiet and young. After him, there had been the lambs and the chickens, the rabbits and piglets. Wynne had silenced a rooster with the flick of a blade, performing the act that would be performed on them. Death had pulled at them, yes. But they had ran from it all the same. “I think so. I just … I don’t always answer it. I think I’m afraid of it. The way it …” Eyes looked away. “Calls for me.” Them, specifically. Their body. They shouldn’t be alive but were.

As Dr Kavanagh paced, Wynne stood frozen as if glued to the floor. Were there others out there like them? Other communities like the one they dwelled from? Or was there something more at play here? But if the doctor was an instrument of death, maybe she was more like Siors. Knife-wielder, killer, determinator. He had pointed at Wynne. He had cupped their head and placed a crown of flowers and bones on there and thanked them for their devotion to duty. “Henuriad. Or, maybe, dewisedig?” Who was the instrument, the one bleeding or the one who made bleed? The elder who decided or the youth who folded? They shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” It felt like a test. 

“Are those your words for it?” Regan tilted her head. That didn’t sound like Irish. It was an unfamiliar language, but that didn’t mean Wynne was incorrect. Regan had half a mind to reject the word banshee herself, viewing it as a label the others were insistent on, but not a truth. Whether she was a human inflicted with some unknown syndrome or something else entirely, she could not say, but banshee was no diagnosis. However, the part of her that hesitated before was pulling back more strongly now. Wynne looked confused, trying to pick meaning out of their past, but their eyes weren’t alight with realization like Regan thought they might be. She needed to learn more before she said something she could not take back.

“I might be incorrect,” Regan breathed, and she wasn’t sure if it was more relief or wistfulness, “I thought… before I truly realized my potential, I was confused. I didn’t understand why I was so different. Why my closest friend was an articulated coyote skeleton and why my peers would turn their noses up at the way I smelled.” She turned away from the shelves and paced back toward Wynne. “Perhaps it’s nothing. But I want you to do something for me, Wynne.” She waited until Wynne’s eyes were fixed on her. “Try to stay out of danger. Away from situations where someone around you may die. I know it’s difficult in this town, but you must try your best. Can you do that?”

“It’s Welsh. For elder. And the other one means chosen. We used them back home, to describe certain people.” Words to describe the roles enforced on people at home. Just people, living in servitude of a demon — and Wynne wasn’t sure whether the other was just human herself. “I don’t know what you’re trying to get at. And I –” Well, it wasn’t like they wanted to speak of all the things they’d abandoned just yet. They also didn’t want to disappoint Dr Kavanagh, who had seemed so invested in them, looking at them with a look Wynne hadn’t been able to place. Teeth buried in their bottom lip, watching her pace around and still remaining standing rather still. 

Arms lifted, wrapping themselves around their body. “I was different too, growing up. They all told me I was different, that I was special.” They wanted to understand. Or no, maybe they wanted to be understood. “Not because of things like you. But I think my people, we’re all very different. We all gravitated towards skeletons too. You know? Sew bones in our sheets and shirts. Wear them. But that might mean nothing to you. I don’t … I don’t know.” They looked at her, wide-eyed. “Of course I’ll try that. I don’t want anyone to die, let alone around me.” It sounded selfish. “But that seems … unnecessary to say, unless there’s another reason you’re telling me?”

“Elder… chosen…” Regan frowned. It was the heavy kind that sank on her lips, as her doubts grew weightier. They weren’t familiar words, or ones that made a particular kind of sense, and that concerned her. “It doesn’t matter.” Regan said, though it mattered a great deal, and her stomach twisted in mutiny. 

She cocked her head at the curious way Wynne seemed to hug themself. Were they uncomfortable here? Or was it the subject matter? She considered tip-toeing away from it, but her determination to know more about Wynne’s history was greater than her desire not to cause some discomfort. “Wynne?” She asked, to check on them all the same. The memories they were recalling were clearly… difficult, in some way. It was hard to piece together every fragment of information she’d received from Wynne and not assume they were a banshee – the death they’d witnessed, the insularity, the bones – was it possible? “I don’t know either,” Regan said, looking down at the skunk mandible on her desk, “but I’ve known some who do that kind of thing. Perhaps it means nothing, perhaps everything.”

“There is another reason,” Regan said hesitantly, “but I don’t know if you being aware of it will be beneficial. Not at your age. You are too old, despite being a child. I was too old. It’s best to avert it entirely and not let it take everything from you.” She could hear something in her tone she didn’t like, something behind her voice that should have been long dead, and she reeled herself in before her lungs decided to respond. Regan wanted an answer, needed an answer, and it hadn’t carved itself out of Wynne’s responses yet. More prompting was needed, and it needed to be clever. Both overt and easy to deny if Wynne turned out to be nothing but an ordinary human after all. An idea occurred to her. 

Regan approached her desk and unlocked the bottom drawer. Inside, she pulled out the fungus field guide that Leah had sold her, the one that had detailed just how to reverse the effects of death’s chariot. The section on that particular mushroom was dog-eared. “Here,” Regan said, offering to them, “I know it’s a strange gift, but take this home, see if anything in there stands out to you. And… don’t show it to any animal control officers.”

When Dr Kavanagh spoke their name, Wynne became aware of the way they were folding in on themself. They had been better at keeping their composure at home, but it seemed like all the things they had been taught and expected to do had fallen away. What was left, now that they were no longer someone who lived for a destiny? With pride? There was shame and fear and this woman, who made them more confused when they’d hoped that she might understand. “I’m fine.” 

What she seemed to be suggesting was that there was more at play. To figure out if that was true, there was an obvious thing Wynne had to do: offer up all that was at play, speak of their history not just in vague flashes of detail. Because this was only proving to be disorienting, right? With the doctor alluding to things out of Wynne’s reach and them failing to mention the demonic entity they had once worshiped and later betrayed.

“It was already going to take everything from me. I mean, my it. I think, maybe …” They trailed off, fingers tightening their grip on their t-shirt. “I don’t know if we’re talking about the same thing. I was supposed to die.” Was that what Dr Kavanagh meant, too? Because if so, Wynne had been aware of it since they were ten years old. Their voice was wavering, their thoughts jumbled. “I don’t know what else there is or was to be aware of. I am too old, because I’m not dead. Is that what you mean? Is this what you meant with death being a beginning?” Could there have been more, after their sacrifice? 

They unraveled when the other revealed a book on fungi. Strange, indeed. They had never done much with mushrooms back at home besides put them in their food and enjoy their taste. “O..okay. I’ll read it. And I don’t know any animal control officers, so that shouldn’t be an issue.”

Wynne seemed to be someplace else, withdrawn. What were they thinking, remembering? Regan held her breath as she waited. Would this be it? The definitive piece of information that provided her with an answer once and for all? She stared, trying not to unnerve the child, but too curious to look away for even a second. As with everything else Wynne had told her, this information provoked more questions than it provided answers. She couldn’t help but feel like she was missing something. That this wasn’t as opaque as it seemed. So much of it made sense, and yet, it was off.

“Yes,” She said, slowly, some kind of picture coming into focus. Maybe Wynne meant metaphorically. “You are supposed to die. That is a necessary part of what must be done.” The banshees viewed life as a part of death, rather than the other way around. And the An chéad scread was an end just as much as it was a beginning. Both were to be celebrated. She thought, her mouth flattening into a straight line. This was peculiar. Wynne knew more than Regan thought they did. She had assumed Wynne didn’t understand their nature, why they were drawn to such beautiful remains, but they seemed to know exactly what they evaded for so many years.

Regan decided she needed more information. Still. “How did you escape it? They track you down. I know they do… I’m certain they’re looking for me.” She flicked her eyes over to the door, like someone could have followed them down here. 

They frowned at the other now, somehow more confused. Slowly, they shook their head. “No, I’m not supposed to any more. It’s too late now.” Sure, Wynne was going to die one day, but for now hadn’t they outran their fate? Hadn’t they been successful? Hadn’t this been nine months of extra time they had bought themself, through grit teeth and bravery? They swallowed. 

They thought of that woman in the coffee shop, how strange her responses had been. And now the doctor was speaking of whether they were being tracked down and their panic flared up. “I ran. I —” They frowned, failing to remember all they had done when running. “I got some of my things and I went, I got the bus after I ran all night and then I just kept going. And now I’m here.” They were wondering now if they could stay. There were people here, who wanted to protect them. Emilio. Maybe even the Leviathan. Teddy. Zack. But could they ask it of them? 

Gulping in a breath of air they looked at Dr Kavanagh. “Did you run too?” Wynne’s eyes had somehow grown even more in size. “My people, they don’t tend to leave. Not this far out. And —” They had no idea in what kind of state they had left the commune, after refusing to fold to the demon’s demands. “Maybe they’ll find me. I don’t want to —” They bit their lip. “I don’t want that. Not for you either, if that’s what could happen.”

So Wynne had run. Just left and took the bus. It couldn’t be that simple, not ever, and Regan knew there had to be something else – hounds on Wynne’s heels or something left behind. Regan had left something behind, too, something that had died there. 

Had she run? Kind of. From the place, the people, her grandmother. She had run from their visions of duty, their praise and platitudes, their comfort and cruelty. But she had replaced them with her own, and while Cliodhna’s words could scald and scar, Regan’s worst failures were self-conferred. She thumbed over the harsh lines and circles across her palm and finally responded. “My kind is not supposed to run, but I suppose that’s what I did. Or what it amounts to, anyway. I thought… I was chasing something, the idea that the grass is always greener, but I don’t think that’s true.” She eyed Wynne. “Is it?”

She paced to the door. The room suddenly felt smaller. Claustrophobic. She sensed that she could extend some trust to Wynne – a small but not negligible amount – and within that trust she’d found that they were both tréigtheoirí. It was more of an answer than she’d ever sought, more revealing than what she had been probing for. Being in the same room with Wynne took on a new air of traitorousness, like the two of them had planned this together. Regan wanted to wash her hands clean of that feeling. To be alone again. 

Regan turned to Wynne. The child probably knew the answer already. “If they find me, they will not stop until I go back with them. They will remove all obstacles. They will ensure I have no reason to stay.” Fortunately, she could count her reasons on one hand. There was Reilly, first and foremost. Then her work. If she could protect those two things, then she was covered. Everything else, everyone else, could fall away. Right? But as she looked at the child, doubt clouded her mind. Were there more things to count? The thought made her lungs squeeze with distaste. No. She refused it.  “I think we must be careful; both of us.” Regan pushed the door open a crack, an invitation to exit.  “Be safe, Wynne.”

“Nor is mine.” The people who left the commune were left with nothing. Disinherited. Cut off. Refused entry back in. Protherians weren’t violent inherently, but they could be. Those who considered leaving had been chastised, isolated, watched. At the end of the day, there had been nothing keeping Wynne from running, no invisible border or demonic claw pulling them back — but they had believed it. That they were all stuck there, under a contract, a shared agreement with something so much older and wiser than them. 

All Wynne had taken had been the clothes on their back, the duffel bag they’d packed and that one piece of paper that proved they were real. They lifted their shoulders at the doctor’s question. “I don’t know. People here are ignorant and hard to understand. But … there are many things better here.” The sheer fact that they were alive, for one. 

Suddenly, the other became more human. Less impressive adult who spoke with a wisdom and mystique that made Wynne think of her as some higher being, but someone who had something in common with them. Fear, maybe. Or at least a place and a past she was hiding from. They wanted to ask so much more now. “Then I hope they do not find you. Or me.” What would their family do? Would Wynne even fight them? Zack and Emilio, they had both vowed to protect them, but would they want that — would they not run into their father’s arms, as they had as a child? Did part of them not long, perhaps, for some kind of retribution. They had never been strong in the face of them and their expectant faces. Their bravery only existed in their absence. 

The door cracked open and with it, all questions died. Despite the humanity they had gleamed from the other and the questions they were still burning with, Regan was still someone they thought more authoritative than them. “You too, Dr Kavanagh,” they said, clutching the book to their chest and moving to the door. They cast a glance over their shoulder and gave a small nod. “Afternoon.”

[s65ns]

Out of Time - Prologue.

Out of Time Masterlist / Next Part: One Year

⚠️ TW: Mentions of Cancer ⚠️

word count: 1.7k words

••••••••••••••

Prologue

evelyn’s pov.

I walked around the store in search of my favorite comfort candy. I smiled as I saw the different assortments of chocolate in front of me. Picking up some Kit Kats and Lindor White Chocolate, I felt a rush of serotonin come over me. I was in need of a pick me up and these chocolates would do just the trick.

I had gotten back from the doctor's office about an hour ago. Sitting in my car, I let the new found information my doctor told me sink in while tears rolled down my face. I had hoped that all the chemotherapy and medicines they were providing me with would change my results and change them for good. I was wrong.

My journey with stage three breast cancer began three years ago. I noticed a strange discoloration on my breast. I asked my mum about it and she told me that I needed to see a gynecologist. At first I thought she was being overly dramatic like she always was, but once I googled my symptoms—like any other 22 year old would do—I began to understand her concern.

Later that week, I had my first gynecologist visit. My gynecologist was very sweet. I expressed to her that I was a bit nervous since I'd never been to a gynecologist before. She told me it was normal to be nervous and that she would try her best not to make it awkward for either of us. She placed her gloves on and began to work.

At the end of the appointment, she told me she felt some lumps in my breast. The lumps in my breast plus the discoloration led her to believe that I may have breast cancer.

I felt my heart drop to my stomach. I didn't hear anything she said after that. All I remember was hearing her say to come back on another day for screening to confirm whether I had cancer.

After two years had gone by of chemotherapy, shaving my head, losing weight, and surgery, the doctors had finally given me the best news I had ever heard since the Jonas Brothers getting back together. I was finally free of cancer, but only for a year.

Now it's back and has metastasized into the early stages of stage four breast cancer. The doctor told me there was still a chance for me to be saved; however, it was a small percentage, so I shouldn't get my hopes up.

As I placed the chocolates in my basket, I noticed a man staring at me. When we made eye contact, he quickly averted his eyes, pretending to be looking for some treats himself. I brushed off the weird feeling he gave me and decided to walk to the check out.

I patiently waited as the person in front of me took their sweet time to get their items checked out.

I placed my items on the conveyor belt and waited for the cashier to scan them. I smiled lightly and whispered 'hello' as the cashier began to scan my items. She gave me a small smile in return.

"Your total is $7.85." I nodded before handing her a ten dollar bill.

"Thank you." she said softly. As she turned to the register to look for my change, another eerie feeling came over me. Looking past the cashier, I saw the same man from the candy aisle staring me down.

As soon as our eyes met once again, he looked away, busying himself with a random pamphlet near the exit. I had half a mind to walk up to him and ask him if he needed something, but I decided against it knowing that I would be too weak to defend myself if anything were to happen.

"$2.15 is your change, and enjoy the rest of your day!" I thanked her for my change and placed it in my wallet. I grabbed my items and glanced at the exit. The man was no longer standing there.

I quickly rushed out the door. The once blue sky had already began to turn dark. I silently scolded myself for parking so far away from the store entrance. The eerie feeling came over me once again and I felt my heart rate pick up. I walked in the direction I thought I had parked my car, but began to panic once I couldn't see my car.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around my shoulders. I released a small gasp as my head turned in the intruder's direction. To my relief, it wasn't the strange man from the convenient store.

"Hey baby." he said loudly. I winced at how loud and close he was.

"I'm sorry. You must have me confused for somebody else." I said back, getting ready to remove myself from his embrace, but he was quick to react and tighten his grip around me.

He leaned down to my ear and whispered, "There's a strange man following you. Just go with it 'till you find your car, okay?"

His emerald eyes held sincerity that made me think he genuinely cared about me getting to my car safely. I nodded and offered him a small smile.

"Do you know where you parked, love?" he asked as we stopped walking. I paused and looked around the lot, no sign of my car in sight. I shook my head.

"Here. Push the panic button so we can find it." He gently grabbed the keys from my hand and pressed PANIC. We followed the sound of my car alarm, two rows over and a bit further down.

From my peripheral vision, I saw the man look behind us before he removed his arm from my shoulders.

"Thank you." I say as I unlock my car. I truly owe my life to him. Had this man not come up and pretend to be someone I know, I would've been a goner.

"Don't mention it." he says, a small grin plastered onto his face.

"I mean it. I owe you big time. I haven't the slightest clue who that man is and he had been following me around the store and now to my car...Really, thank you."

He shakes his head sheepishly.

"I'm Harry, by the way." he says, effectively changing the subject.

"Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Evelyn." I reply, sticking my hand out. Harry's eyes go back and forth from my hand to my face.

He lets out a small chuckle before placing his hand in mine and shaking it.

I am the first to let go of the embrace, feeling my cheeks getting hot. Having his hand in mine released butterflies in my stomach.

Now that the chaos was put behind us, I was finally able to get a good look at Harry. He is a very attractive man.

He has beautiful, chestnut curls that are pushed back out of his face; a single curl had fallen in his face.

Vibrant green eyes that are absolutely breathtaking and pink heart-shaped lips. He was also very tall and had a British accent.

Everything about him was stunning including his casual attire, while I looked a righteous mess with my beanie to hide my head from the cold along with light makeup that was probably washed off from tears.

We stood there for a second taking in each other's features. As I was getting ready to leave the semi-awkward silence, Harry breaks it.

"So how do you intend to repay me?" he asks.

I ponder not really knowing how to respond. There was a suggestive look in his eye and that's what snapped me back to reality and realize he was just like any other man in the world. Only one thought in their mind: sex.

"If you're implying that I should have sex with you, that's not going to happen." I huffed, moving towards my car door. I open the door and got inside, placing my chocolates in my passenger seat.

"What? No, no. You've got it all wrong." Harry takes slow, cautious steps towards me.

"Then what is it that you want?" I query.

"I want you to let me take you out for dinner some time." he says with a soft smile.

"Oh..." is all I can manage to say.

"It doesn't have to be anything romantic, unless you want it to be. It can just be a dinner to commemorate the possible start of a beautiful friendship." Harry tucks his hands into his jean pockets as he awaits my answer.

I feel so stupid and embarrassed now. I struggle to hold eye contact with him.

"Okay, sure." I say sheepishly.

"Okay, great. Let's exchange numbers and we can figure out a time that works best for the both of us." he says. His soft smile from before has spread into a wide grin.

I nod my head while handing him my phone, avoiding his gaze. I patiently wait as Harry puts his number into my phone before he hands me his so I can do the same.

"Wonderful. I'll give you a call sometime." I nod again, still refusing to make eye contact with him.

Suddenly, I feel his thumb and forefinger gently move my chin up so I am forced to meet his intense gaze.

"Don't worry about it. I know where you were coming from. Most men typically do only have one thing on their mind," he pauses, his gaze shifting to my lips before he continues, "but I'm hoping over time you'll learn I'm not like most men."

And with that he lets go of my chin and walks away with a smirk on his face while I am rendered speechless. My cheeks were on fire like never before.

"Wow." I mutter, closing my car door and starting the engine. I put the car temperature on cold to cool me down.

As I get ready to take off, my phone chimes. I peer over to see one new text message from Harry.

Harry Styles (IOU): I hope to see you again soon, Evelyn. Stay safe.

[evilpenguinrika]

made an appointment with my doctor--pretty last minute--bc I'm pretty sure I have hemorrhoids and it's been

weird.

started yesterday with the weirdness and i was like "wtf is happening" and then slathered on hemorrhoid cream cuz we still have some but barely any left and i went out to buy more along with more veggies because I've been not great at looking after myself this past week since I'm alone at home

anyways went to put more cream and there were definitely some. not great things happening so i called up doc like 10 mins before their office closed and will see her tomorrow

also this has been a minor issue since 2018 but only became a BIG issue since yesterday so...

I really should have dealt with this back in 2018 ripperonies

[lovemesomesurveys]

1. What is something in your life that you feel hopeful about right now? Uhhh. Honestly, as much as I’d like to feel that way, it’s hard. I’m having a difficult time seeing past some of the stuff I’m going through and imagining anything changing. I’m scared it’s only going to stay the same. I mean, there’s been significant progress with some stuff, but I’m still bedridden and not where I’d like to be strength-wise, though that has gotten a little better. I’m lacking the motivation and energy that I need to work on things. And the hope. :/

2. What was the last thing you worried about that turned out better than expected? I mean like I said, I really have made significant progress with one of the major things I’d been dealing with for years. For so long I struggled with it and it seemed to only get worse without much chance at all in getting better, but now here we are. Even in the hospital it had actually gotten worse. However, once I had the feeding tube for awhile and was back home where it could be better managed and monitored by my mom, things really started improving. So, I need to remember that when I feel hopeless and down about other things. If something like that situation managed to really turn around, then the other stuff has a chance as well. 

3. Name somewhere you are planning on visiting in the near future? All I’m able to do right now is go to my doctor appointments. I have two in the next couple weeks. 

4. How often do you go grocery shopping and how much food do you usually get in one go? My mom goes twice a month for our big grocery trips and gets a lot. 

5. What is a meal you eat extremely often? Or do your meals & food choices vary a lot? I’ve just been eating the same few foods to be honest. Like, I have Cream of Wheat every morning and Taco Bell for dinner like 5 or 6 times a week. I’ve started having sandwiches most days for lunch. Other foods I throw in the mix sometimes are chicken wings, hot dogs, and pizza. Oh, and of course I eat a lot of Reese’s everyday. :X

6. When was the last time you felt unable or unwilling to speak your mind to someone? I’ve been struggling with something involving a couple family members since last year and I’m afraid to address it to them. I just don’t see that conversation going well. I don’t want to cause any issues or make things weird between us. I don’t want to hurt their feelings. But I am upset with some things that were said and how they went about some things and it’s caused me to be distant and bitter. I don’t want it to be that way, but I can’t seem to just let it go.

7. What was the last thing you changed your mind about?  Hm. I’m blanking at the moment. 

8. Who was the last friend you saw, and what did you do together? I don’t have any friends.

9. Who tends to show up in your dreams? Do you ever wonder if you appear in anyone else's dreams? I always have the most random dreams about the most random people. Like, people I went to elementary school with that weren’t even my friends will show up in my dreams and I’m like wtf??

10. What is something you wish you could say to someone who is no longer in your life, or something you wish they could know? I do miss Ty. He was a special part of my life for a time and he was there during a time I really needed him. It’s like he was put in my life for that time and then he served his purpose cause it’s like he literally just vanished. He stopped contacting me and deleted all his social media so I had no way of getting in touch. But the time we had together truly was a special time and I just miss him. I even thought at one point he was going to be “the one.” Anyway, I guess I’d just want to tell him what he meant to me and how much of an impact he had on me. I wish we could be in each other’s lives again. 

11. Instead of flat earth, what do you think of the simulated earth theory, that we're basically all just a giant computer program or virtual reality? No, we’re not Sims. 

12. What worries you most about your future? Like I always say, I’m scared I’ll never get better or get worse and that I won’t do anything with my life. I feel like I’m grandpa Joe from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory right now and I don’t want to spend my whole life this way.

13. What is something you do to feel better when you're scared? I mean, it depends what I’m scared about. I guess I typically talk about it with my mom and get comfort and reassurance from her and just try to distract myself with something like ASMR or a show.

14. Who do you feel you can count on the most in life? Is there anyone you wish you could count on more? I know I can always count on my mom. She is why I’m still here and keep going. 

15. What makes you trust someone? When was the last time someone broke your trust? If I feel comfortable talking to and sharing things with someone is a good indicator. I’d have to get to know them of course and establish a friendship. That takes a little time. And obviously if they don’t give me a reason to feel like I can’t trust them. I’ve met people who clearly like to gossip and I questioned whether I could trust them or not. I kind of just get a feeling, ya know? As for the last time someone broke my trust, it was last year with a couple of people. They did some things that made me feel uncomfortable sharing things with them.

16. When was the last time you shared a secret with someone, and how did they react? I don’t remember. 

17. Are you more likely to give advice or to ask for it? I used to be the one often giving advice. I don’t tend to ask for advice a lot, but I do try to look up stuff and figure things out on my own. Or I just dwell on stuff and not do anything. 

18. When was the last time you felt totally lost, figuratively speaking? How about literally? >> I constantly feel lost, figuratively speaking. I almost never feel lost, literally speaking. <<< Yeah, I feel that way as well. I’ve been in a place figuratively for quite some time where I don’t know what to do, what I’m doing, or what is going to happen. I just feel so unsure about everything. I don’t know how to get past this. I don’t even recall the last time I literally felt lost. 

19. In what ways are you emotionally strong? In what ways are you emotionally weak? I don’t feel I am emotionally strong. In fact, I feel very, very weak. I just feel like such a hopeless mess. I haven’t been handling things well. I don’t know how to get through this. I’ve just kept going and try to get through each day. 

20. What is the strangest book you have ever read? How did you find out about it? I can’t really think of a book I’ve read to be “the strangest.” Probably some book for school, ha. 

21. Do you prefer to watch movies or tv alone or with other people? Is there anything you refuse to watch alone? I love having shows to watch with my mom and/or brother. I just find it more enjoyable and it’s fun having someone to discuss the show or movie with and freak out together. I also like going on my personal Tumblr and seeing what other people are saying about it about it and reblogging a bunch of stuff. It’s just really fun to get involved in a fandom and share the experience with others. 

22. What was the last thing you broke? How about fixed? I haven’t broken something in quite awhile I don’t think. I’m not much of a fixer upper so I don’t know. 

23. Is there a sign or symbol that means a lot to you for whatever reason (eg. seeing certain animals or birds, 11:11 or other repeating numbers, syncs, butterflies, hearts in nature, etc)? Ever since I was a kid the number 8 has been my favorite number and it does have some significance to me. 

24. Do you have any personal ghost stories or paranormal experiences? No.

25. What do you get complimented on the most? I’m a total mess so I’m not getting complimented on anything regarding my physical appearance that’s for sure, ha. I also don’t have any skills or talents to be complimented on either. Sooo, nothing. 

26. What is something unusual that you find attractive? Men’s veiny hands are attractive to me for some reason. 

27. What time do you tend to eat your first meal of the day? And your last? I typically have my breakfast around 11AM and my dinner around 7 or 8PM.

28. What was the subject of the last video you watched? I’m watching Disney history and ride related videos.

29. When was the last time you traveled out of town, and where to? Last March. Feels like forever ago.

30. How would you describe your overall aesthetic? >> I wouldn't, really. I just wear and surround myself with what I like, what feels good (physically and emotionally). <<< Ha, I mean yeah same. 

[disabilityhealth]

This is a bit weird but I just… kinda want to get something out of my brain to someone who may have some kind of understanding. Sorry if I’m a bother. The short of it is that recently I started to suspect I might have a chronic condition, because some of the things I’ve been experiencing were alarmingly specific to this and in one case, something I didn’t even know wasn’t a normal thing that happens to everyone. I thought about it for a few weeks and then made a doctor’s appointment with my regular doctor. That doctor referred me to a specialist, who told me to get a series of tests and specifically mentioned testing for something that I happened to see later could sometimes cause similar symptoms or be mistaken for what I kinda suspected (which I haven’t brought up to anyone because I’m afraid of seemingly like a crazy hypochondriac or something) I might have. I got the tests, and at once place the doctor also said they wanted me to come back for even more tests so they could give me a referral to yet another kind of specialist, and mentioned that they would have told me to get this other test except I’d already had it done via the first specialists orders, etc. It’s been a whole roller coaster of emotions. But anyway last week I went back to the first specialist for the test results, which were zilch. Nada. All looks good and normal, go home. I feel stupid. The doctor didn’t even let me see the scans and stuff, I guess I had been kind of hoping it would feel more real if I saw there was nothing weird. I know I’m no doctor and I can’t diagnose myself and I’ve got no medical training to even know what I’m looking at but. Yeah. It’s been around two months, I think, since I first started to suspect when I randomly saw a symptom list, and my brain had been all over the place. I do have anxiety so I’ve been wondering like, is this all in my head, is it psychosomatic, am I wasting time and money over some kind of attention seeking delusion? My symptoms definitely increased in severity after I started considering it and I’ve been very… I don’t even know over that. Because if things are worse then it’s obviously all like stress caused, right? At least according to my brain. And I’ve kinda flip flopped between ‘there’s no way’ and ‘it has to be’ while feeling both at the same time. When I was doing a bit of research and I saw one of the things the doctor had mentioned testing for as something that could be mistaken for what I was considering, I had a massive panic attack at the thought. When I was at one of the specialists’ offices and they said something along the lines of ‘so you’re experiencing this?’ and I said ‘no, this’ I totally calmed down for the first time since this whole thing started and was absolutely sure that this was all just a dumb waste of time and feeling at peace, only to be hit with the ‘okay so I want you to come back for these tests, you’ve already had those done so you don’t need me to make a referral, and then I want to send you to this other specialist’ while I was feeling like I was actually that one ‘what’ reaction image. And I had been thinking like, if I have this, I don’t want anyone to know. It’s not like it’s a life threatening thing and like I don’t want anyone to worry over me or treat me weirdly or anything… and then well the doctor said everything looks perfect. And before that I thought that was what I wanted. That was the absolute best case scenario in my head, second best being ‘yeah you’ve got this’ and worst being ‘actually MORE TESTS.’ And yet I nearly cried in the doctor’s office and then again nearly had a crying breakdown in the car… because I was told I didn’t have this thing I don’t want to have? I feel like some crazy attention seeking faker making up things in my head. Maybe I’m exaggerating what I feel. Maybe, even though the symptoms have been just as bad at times in the past, years ago even, before I’d heard of this thing, the fact that they feel worse right now is only in my head. Cont~

continuation~ Last night I was curled up in so much pain I felt like something inside me had combusted and I was afraid I was dying even though I’d gone to the hospital for this exact thing two years ago and it was nothing and I also hurt too much to move anyway. I got ten hours of sleep but it took me two hours to get out of bed and I missed a class because despite knowing I needed to get up and go I was too tired to even care about it. I say that and even though it’s true I feel like I’m lying or exaggerating for attention. For years doctors have been telling me I’m young and the healthiest I’ll ever be and there’s nothing wrong with me. The doctor told me all the tests look normal and then told me to go see a psychiatrist. I still have the appointment for the other tests the one specialist wanted me to have next week, at which point I’ll get a referral scheduled for the next specialist that doctor wanted me to see. The internet said that most people take 15-20 years to get diagnosed. The internet said less than 5% of people who have this show symptoms but nothing shows up on the scans. Who am I to be so sure I have this? Why should I believe the internet over a medical doctor? I’ve only felt worse in the days since that appointment last week. Isn’t that proof it’s all psychological? I guess… somewhere in me, even as I really desperately didn’t bad don’t want to have anything wrong with me, I got attached to the idea that maybe there was a reason. That maybe it’s not just that I’m getting dumber. That there’s a reason for all these inarticulate things I’ve thought for literal years but never had the reason or words or awareness to truly express. I say ‘nobody is as clumsy as I am!’ and people tell me off for being self-deprecation but what I never had the consciousness I’m not sure but whatever to realize before now, I felt it but I didn’t know the words, was that I mean ‘I’m not as clumsy as I am.’ Or I wasn’t. I have scars on my arms from when my hands just stopped holding things without my consent. I walk into door frames and walks and furniture because it feels like my legs just quit listening sometimes. I used to be able to stand on one foot for five minutes at a time and never wobble the slightest bit and only have to stop because my leg would get tired. Now I cling to the handrail or the wall every time I even go down one step and I regularly lean on the wall so I don’t eat floor trying to change my clothes in the morning or at night. I have adhd, I’ve always been forgetful, but I don’t think I ever used to legitimately not be able to tell the difference between today and yesterday. I never used to forget to eat for an entire day because I didn’t remember humans have to eat. I never used to accidentally skip breakfast or lunch or dinner because I think I have eaten but that was yesterday. I forget what I did five minutes ago or my memories feel so distant I have to think to figure out if I dreamed that I just washed my hands or something. I feel like I have the memory of a goldfish and I know I didn’t always. I know it didn’t used to be that sometimes I start and stare and stare at words and I can make them make sense individually but not all together, and then I come back to the same thing the next day and I can read it with no issue. And all this time I was thinking ‘what do I do if I have this.’ and I didn’t know, and the prospect was terrifying. But I never once thought ‘what do I do if I don’t.’ And turns out, that’s terrifying too. There’s no good answer and I just want to be normal and fine and I feel like a self obsessed hypochondriac idiot. I’m sorry for dumping all that on you.

I am honestly very glad you sent this to me, so do not be sorry. It sounds like you are truly fighting a battle and you needed to get this all out there.

My advice would be to bring up the condition you think you have with your doctors. Pose it as a question, like: "Is it possible that I have X?" Even if they rule that illness out, at least you will know one way or the other that all of the possibilities are being explored.

It does sound like your doctors are taking your symptoms seriously because they are referring you to so many specialists. That is a good sign. Also, according to HIPAA you are entitled to get copies of your medical tests upon request so you can ask to see your scans and blood work results. I think that could give you a little peace of mind, at least.

Also, I think seeing a psychiatrist is a good idea. I'm not saying that I think your symptoms are psychosomatic or that it's all in your head. However, even if it is a mental illness, that doesn't mean your pain isn't real. It doesn't mean you aren't struggling. It would just mean that the cause is psychological -- and if that is the case then your experience is equally valid.

Chronic illnesses and mental illnesses have a lot of overlap. You deserve to know what's going on, one way or the other.

At the very least, it sounds to me like you may have anxiety (understandably) and a psychiatrist would help you to manage that so you can at least have a little peace in your life while you're trying to figure out what else is going on.

I genuinely hope that you can get to the bottom of this. You deserve to feel better in your own skin and to understand what is happening to you. I will be thinking of you, anon.

[themollyzone]

how should a person microblog?

It's the most wonderful time of the year — a time to, if you have arrived to your doctor's appointment in Soho early for some reason, buy a buttered roll from a street cart and try to have a Breakfast At Tiffany's moment at some random boutique that did a holiday disco ball display. Buttered street cart rolls are so good. It's a shame they're not a dollar anymore. Brandon's America has pushed them up to $1.50. Ok grandma, let's get you to bed.

I have a feeling that the combination of Trump announcing his re-candidacy and a bunch of young people getting upset at Ticketmaster for spoiling their Taylor Swift Eras Tour plans is going to break something crucial on Twitter that Elon Musk nuked in a fit of pique, and then where am I supposed to go?? I have been gathering mutuals' emails via Substack, and I've been blogging here. There's just something special about the zone I have been trying to build on Twitter, where even though I *know* very few of the people who interact with me, it's pretty easy to figure out who is a kindred spirit that's down to clown, and who gets muted immediately for bad vibes.

I had a reel ("Reel") I recently put on Instagram of Marianne Williamson talking about how secularism isn't helping the left — sort of a pithy Marianne-ist snippet that I thought was neat when I saw it in person. It got picked up by IG's algorithm and got a lot of random eyeballs, and within 24 hours there were two people with private accounts squabbling in the comments and harshing my goddamn mellow. At its loosest privacy settings, IG lets you freely be an asshole without having to show your own breadcrumb trail of past assholery—you can't see someone's past comments, and if they're on private, you can't see anything they have posted at all. Total contextless asshole existence. Whereas on Twitter, if someone pops in my mentions just to be a jerk to try to get my attention, I can visit their profile, look at their replies, and see if, for example, they've been one-sided-arguing with vaguely Chapo Trap House associated people for weeks, and then I can move them to trash (and if I am feeling generous, pray for them, lol).

Twitter is just the perfect place to get stoned, tweet a stray idiotic thought, and start a conversation with a few people with whom you've developed weird internet rapports. I've been putting thoughts on the internet since I had a Blogspot in 2003 and Twitter's the first place that felt like anyone else was paying attention to me, and I am not afraid to admit that I like attention!!! I hope I will find my people elsewhere when Twitter eats shit.

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

I've kinda fallen out of touch with my mentor the past couple of months. It's not anything intentional, I just... kind of don't feel like I'm doing anything that's worth her time?

But she sent me a message to check up on me, asked me for updates about what's going on in my world, and I'm... well, how do you tell someone what's going on when your world can't be summarized in a two-minute voicemail?

(Just me babbling about AFK Life Stuff, trying to work out what the hell to talk about because I genuinely don't know what to tell her.)

I want to tell her "absolutely nothing of consequence". I want to tell her my mother's moving back to Ohio (!!!!!), and I took Mom out to dinner for her birthday and got to see my brothers, and I'm going to a friend's wedding in October, and I went to a demonstration / mindblowing concert last weekend.

I should probably tell her I feel stuck in stasis right now, my back has been hurting too much to stand without cradling both hips to hold them still when I walk (it was getting better until I cleaned the chinchilla cages tonight), and my budget is fucked. (I mean, it's not NEGATIVE cash flow, but it's breaking dead even every single month and I'm making no progress on savings.)

I could talk about my health issues flaring up. My back injury deciding it likes hurting lately, my stomach deciding it hates food and my ADHD meds, and running out of pain meds when my doctor's out of office for a month, which has been seriously hampering my sleep. It hurts too much to get comfortable. But there's nothing to be done about that, and I'm not one of those people who Likes Venting. What's the point? All I can do is wait for it to pass.

Mystical and Nexus weirdness is ramping up too, between it being September and the whole DCAMU movie marathon, but I don't even think I've told her I'm neopagan. I don't know how to connect with her on witchcraft. How do I tell her the whole world whispers to me and it gives me happy shivers sometimes, and I've felt more in-tune with my own energies than I have since 2022, and I had to clean my chinchilla's butt today and spent twenty minutes whispering to him to calm down and it WORKED? (He's probably going to need a vet appointment if I can't figure out how to stop him from eating Sisu's food. Wet tail for the past week, hence the cleaning... that's another thing I can tell her. That's another reason my budget is fucked, chinchilla vets are not cheap.)

Does she even know empaths are a thing? (She's xtian and won't proselytize me, but I don't know how I can explain what it's like to live with a whole other layer of awareness in the world, of others' emotions, of the natural world's ebbs and flows, a goddess who I can reach out to when I really need to and a spirit guide I have a very Complicated relationship with, but I promise it's not like your god's claims of omnipotence, but I promise that for me it's Better? How the hell do I explain a synpath?)

There's nothing major. There's so much. It all feels inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, but it's coloring my world. There's nothing I can ask of her, but she cares enough to ask after me. I have nothing to offer her, other than thanks for checking in. What's even worth talking about?

I suppose I could always ask what she wants updates on. Financial life, medical, loved ones, spiritual life? But what if she tells me what she said the last time I asked a question like that? Asks me to talk about whatever's important to me? Whatever I want to tell her?

How do I know I'm not wasting her time? (Logically, I know she won't consider it a waste of her time. There's a reason she's my mentor. A lot of reasons, actually! But emotionally, it feels like I'd be bothering her for no reason. Is it stubbornness, independence too fierce? "I don't need counsel; I need to wait for it to pass.")

[keratoconusgroup]

Some concerns post-cxl

i had bilateral epi off cxl done on the May 23rd, Thursday. Its been one week so far and unfortunately, my post op appointment was delayed by a week as my doctor has to attend a conference in china. I thought that maybe some of you might be able to shed some light on my concerns. (Please bare with my lack of knowledge on the topic) 1. The eye shield my doctors assistant, who i have to contact in his absence told me that i have to wear the protective eye shield till next week, until the bandage lens is removed. Is this 24/7 (excluding the times I add the drops) or is this just when i sleep 2. Is infection still a major risk? I have a well sterilized room in my house which ive been using for the past week, but its not my office, and i'd like to return to it to get some private work done. But the issue is its a bit dusty and im pretty sure theres a bit of cobwebs all around. Is it safe for me to jump back in, or should i wait till the lens is removed. Moreover, is infection still a major risk? 3. Going out Next month i have some time off and i was thinking of making some plans with my friends, by when should i be able to go out properly? Nothing too major, just walks and beach visits? (week estimation from cxl date?) 4. Sudden pains Today, when i woke up, i had that weird scorching feeling on my right eye just for a moment and it disappeared. Is this normal? I checked my eyes and saw no abnormalities.. 5. Computer use Ive been using my phone since day 3, and i have no problem with that, but everytime i use my pc, my eyes strain. Is it safe for me to use computers right now? or should i wait some time because i have some things that i really have to get done. The doctor said that screens shouldnt really be a problem, but the strain is concerning. submitted by /u/Moist-Spare2562 [link] [comments] https://www.reddit.com/r/Keratoconus/comments/1d4rr1b/some_concerns_postcxl/?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[wonderingwanderingsworld]

Two days in a row! I am feeling better today. More motivated. I had to get out of bed because I had a medical appointment. I am so hungry for care and attention that just being at the doctor’s and her telling me I did a “good job” when I took a deep breath and held it made me feel a lot better. I was not very enthusiastic about running errands afterwards, but I was really tired.

One of the things I am pondering is where is the balance when it comes to activism/taking care of others and focusing on myself, as someone who is simultaneously privileged and oppressed, specifically disabled. I know simultaneously that I deserve a happy life and also things are really fucked up right now. They have been for a while and will continue to be. It feels like a weird push and pull for me, like I have to decrease the amount of entitlement my white self experiences while increasing the amount of care and attention I give my trans and disabled selves. How to become bigger and small at the same time? What if im wrong and as a marginalized white person, since whiteness trumps all, I need only become smaller? How do I tell when my resistance is healthy and necessary, and when it is based on comfort and the desire to hold onto privilege? I feel pretty clear that when my kidneys are starting to have trouble I need to back off. But even then… I look at the journalists in Gaza, risking their lives for the story of their people to be told. Hmmm as I write it feels different though. They risk but they do not know. Several journalists as well as civilians have left Gaza now, including for medical treatment. So I can potentially conclude that if I am getting medically affected by pushing myself that it is ok to step back.

I realize I probably can’t see what is healthy here and what is not. It would be healthy and wise to have some guidance, specifically from someone who both cares for my overall wellbeing and who will lead me in the right direction. How to do this when I am homeless and broke? There is probably an answer right in front of my face and I’m missing it. Who are my teachers, who am I responsible to, after years I still don’t know though I can say there are many. But I say many as in, many books and articles and posts I’ve read, a handful of courses I’ve participated in. I did try at least twice to engage other white “allies” in ongoing work together but both times it fell flat because people were unwilling to really go there. Also in my current situation I don’t have a lot of myself left over, even on days where I have a lot of time. I am just exhausted and worried on every level.

I have therapy tomorrow and I am so glad for that. I am sad not to have it twice a week right now but maybe there’s a way. In the meantime it’ll be good to go. The past week has been A LOT.