#Hidden Wheelchair Lifts

[dynamicdouble]

Midweek Message: How Innovation Is Enhancing Accessibility

P-R-A-C-T-I-CAL things have to be practical, or whatever that song by Chappell Roan says! #Accessibility #BuildMyAccessibleHome #MidweekMessage #Disability #SesameAccess #ChappellRoan #HotToGo

Accessibility in Action P-R-A-C-T-I-CAL things have to be practical, or whatever that song by Chappell Roan says! I recently saw a video on TikTok where hotel staff were helping @theinclusivetraveller use their lift to exit the building, which I found pretty interesting. What makes concepts and ideas like this great, and what could they mean for accessibility? Let’s dive deeper into how such…

[cy-cyborg]

What able bodied authors think I, an amputee and a wheelchair user, would want in a scifi setting:

Tech that can regenerate my old meat legs.

Robot legs that work just like meat legs and are functionally just meat legs but robot

Literally anything that would mean I don't have to use a wheelchair.

If I do need to use a wheelchair, make it fly or able to "walk me" upstairs

What I actually want:

Prosthetic covers that can change colour because I'm too indecisive to pick one colour/pattern for the next 5+ years.

A leg that I can turn off (seriously, my above knee prosthetic has no off switch... just... why?)

A leg that won't have to get refitted every time I gain or loose weight.

A wheelchair that I can teleport to me and legs I can teleport away when I'm too tired to keep walking. And vice versa.

In that same vein, legs I can teleport on instead of having to fiddle around with the sockets for half an hour.

Prosthetic feet that don't require me to wear shoes. F*ck shoes.

Actually accessible architecture, which means when I do want to use my wheelchair, it's not an issue.

Prosthetic legs with dragon-claw feet instead of boring human feet or just digigrade prosthetics that are just as functional as normal human-shaped ones.

A manual wheelchair with the option to lift my seat up like those scissor-lift things so I'm not eye-level with everyone's butt on public transport/so I can reach the top shelf by myself.

A prosthetic foot that lights up when it hits the ground like those children's shoes.

A few additions I remember seeing in the comments on my old account:

holographic prosthetic covers

transformers-style mobility aids that can fold into the shapes of different aids (e.g. a wheelchair that can fold into a cane)

prosthetic covers with pockets/hidden compartments (kind of surprised this isn't a thing already).

find my leg (like find my iphone, but for your legs when you haven't worn them in a while lol)

TLDR: Stop assuming every disabled person would want to be as close to "normal" as possible in your works. Some absolutely would and having options for them if fine, but I rarely see any examples of media showing those of us who don't. start letting amputees in your scifi works have fun with our prosthetics, fix the problems real amputees are already talking about instead of what you think are the issues and make your settings as a whole accessible!

[applepiewinchesters]

Doomed (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

Summary: The arrival of two new mutants at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters brings some excitement to an otherwise normal day, particularly for you, Scott Summers’ sister. When you meet Logan and his cocky attitude, you soon realize you may be crushing on the new guy.

Word Count: 2,988

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was never one to turn away a lost mutant, even if they weren’t what was considered a “youngster”.

There were excited whispers all over the school about the two mutants who had been brought to the mansion late last night. One of them, Rogue, was already becoming acclimated, attending classes. You’d had the pleasure of meeting her when she joined your English class.

The other, a man, was still unconscious in Jean’s lab, having taken a nasty beating shortly before being rescued. You had tried to sneak down there during the students’ lunch break but your brother, Scott, had stopped you.

“We don’t know if this guy is dangerous,” Scott had sighed, dragging you away from the lower level entrance.

You pulled your arm from his grasp, “Scott, I’m a grown woman, and we’re the same age, I can take care of myself.”

Scott rolled his eyes which were hidden behind his sunglasses, “I don’t care I don’t want you getting hurt!”.

“Oh but Jean can be by herself?,” you argued,” She’d let me be down there with her!”.

“I’m not Jean, so get over it,” Scott said but turning and heading down the long hallway.

You’d flipped him off while his back was turned before stalking back to your classroom and waiting for the break to be over. All the while your mind on the mysterious man downstairs. You hadn’t even got to catch a glimpse of him when he and Rogue had arrived. He was whisked away for aid and you were tasked with making Rogue comfortable.

Charles felt you would be able to make the younger girl feel safe, she’d seemed a bit shaken up but it was nothing a hot drink couldn’t fix. You answered any questions she had while sitting at the kitchen table. Charles ended up being right in the end, he always was.

It was a bit later in the afternoon when you saw Scott run past your classroom door. You were grading a couple essays and your eyebrows knit together as you quickly stood, heading to the doorway.

You poked your head out the doorway, calling to your brother at the end of the hall, “What happened!?.”

“The other mutant, he woke up and attacked Jean, he’s somewhere in the mansion! Stay there!” Scott called back.

Nodding you walked back into the room, wondering if you should just stay there or risk running into the man.

It seemed fate decided for you when a man with dark hair dressed in black pants and what you recognized as gray zip up hoodie from the school slipped inside your classroom. You couldn’t help but notice the chest hair peeking out from the top of the jacket. He was barefoot and his hazel eyes darted around the room, quickly landing on you.

You couldn’t help but back up slightly at the intensity of his gaze, he looked confused and totally pissed at the same time.

Deciding to press your luck a little further you lifted your hands in mock surrender, “Slow your roll bucko, there’s kids here, don’t get crazy,” you reasoned.

“Where am I?” the man asked, ignoring your attempt at being somewhat humorous, probably partly deserved.

“Westchester, New York,” came a calm voice from behind the man, making him turn.

Charles was there, looking expectantly at the intruder. “More specially, a school, my school, I see you’ve met one of my brilliant teachers,” Charles explained.

You cracked a smile at the compliment, putting your hands down, “Flattery will get you nowhere, you know that.”

“I can always try,” Charles commented.

“What the fuck is going on?” the man asked, his voice was rough, almost a growl as he interrupted your conversation.

“Logan, please, calm down, come with me,” Charles spoke. Without another word he turned in his wheelchair, leaving the room and heading in the direction of his office.

The man, Logan, as Charles had called him, turned to you, almost for what seemed like clarification.

You only shrugged, motioning for him to leave the room as well. When he eventually did you followed, excited to finally be in on the big secret that’s been sleeping all day.

Arriving in Charles’ office you plopped down into one of the chairs in front of the large desk after shutting the wooden doors behind the three of you.

“Would you like some food?” Charles asked Logan, who stood close to the door, eyeing the room warily.

“Why am I here?” Logan asked, answering with a question of his own.

“You were attacked. My people brought you here for medical attention,” Charles explained.

“I don’t need medical attention,” Logan replied.

“Of course not,” you found yourself saying, looking up at Logan.

He glared slightly at you before smirking, “What’s your name sweetheart?” he asked, his chest puffed out a little, hands behind his back, he was cocky to say the least.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” you teased, but stood from your seat regardless. “I’m Y/N, Y/N Summers.”

You held out your hand to shake and he took it, his hand was large and warm, his grip a little tight. “Logan,” he told you, “but you’re welcome to call me anything you like.”

“How about dickhead?”.

Introductions were interrupted by Scott throwing open the office doors, almost immediately taking a protective stance by your side.

“Logan this is Scott Summers, also called Cyclops,” Charles spoke, you watched as your brother gave Logan a rather firm handshake.

“Any relation?” Logan asked you, motioning to Scott.

“Twins, unfortunately,” you answered, throwing an arm around your brother to let him know were, of course, just kidding.

Logan looked almost shocked, “Wouldn’t have guessed.”

“And why is that?” Scott challenged, attempting to take a step forward but you gripped the back of his jacket.

“Well she’s…,” Logan trailed off, glancing over to you and giving you a quick wink, “and you’re, well, the sunglasses don’t do you much justice bub let’s just say that,” Logan smirked.

“Watch your f-,” Scott started but was thankfully interrupted by Ororo striding in.

You caught yourself smiling at Logan’s remark, and felt your face heat up slightly when you noticed Logan was staring at you.

Charles ignored the previous interaction, moving on with introductions,“This is Ororo Munroe, also called Storm, Ororo this is Logan.”

The two shook hands without any issue, Scott stayed planted by your side, always the overprotective sibling you never wanted.

“Where’s the girl?” Logan asked once he and Ororo shook hands.

“She’s here, she’s fine,” you spoke up, flashing Logan a reassuring smile, his gaze lingered on you a second more than it should have.

“We brought you here to keep you safe from Magneto,” Charles explained.

“What’s a magneto?” Logan asked.

“A very powerful mutant, who believes a war is brewing,” Charles answered, “I’ve been following his activities for quite some time. The man who attacked you is an associate of his called Sabertooth.”

“Sabertooth?” Logan asked, practically rolling his eyes, “She’s Storm. He’s Cyclops. What do they call you? Wheels?”.

His question was directed at Charles and you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, quickly clamping a hand over your mouth.

Charles let it slide as Logan made his way towards the door, “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said.

Scott moved to block Logan’s way.

“You wanna get out of my way?” Logan asked, stepping closer to Scott who didn’t budge.

“Logan, it’s been almost fifteen years, hasn’t it?” Charles interrupted, making Logan turn away from your brother. “Living from day to day, moving from place to place, with no memory of who or what you are.”

“Shut up!” Logan growled, fingers curling into fists.

“Give me a chance,” Charles tried again, “I may be able to help you find some answers.”

Without another word Charles wheeled out of the room.

“Where’s he going?” Logan asked, looking to you.

You only smiled and motioned for him to follow, and after a moment he did, reluctantly.

That left you, Ororo, and Scott alone in the office. Scott stepped towards you and away from the door.

“What was that?” he seethed.

“What was what?” you replied, “I can’t be nice to a man who’s obviously had a pretty shit roll of the dice recently?”.

“Not that one,” Scott argued.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, “Oh like we were perfect when we first got here, remember when you shot that huge hole in the roof?”.

“He’s not a kid, Y/N! He attacked Jean when he woke up, I already said I don’t want anything happening to you!” Scott told you.

Ororo was quick to leave the room during your little argument, she hated yours and Scott’s sibling spats, and today was not a day she wanted to be in the middle of one.

“Charles trusts him so I do too,” you replied.

Scott groaned, throwing his hands up, “Fine, whatever.”

You sighed, placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder, “I know you care, okay? And I love that you do but I’ll be fine, got it?”.

Scott only nodded, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you from the office. The two of you met Jean in the hallway, who looked fine despite her surprise attack.

“Met our new mutant?” she asked you, taking Scott’s hand.

You smiled and nodded, “He’s…funny.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Scott mumbled. Jean placed a kiss on his cheek, making him perk up a bit.

“Your sister can take care of herself Scott,” Jean teased, pulling him away from you.

You heard Scott begin to argue as Jean directed him down the hall, she threw a quick wink over her shoulder at you before they disappeared around the corner. Jean always had your back and you loved her for it.

Heading the opposite way of your brother and Jean, you made your way towards the gardens where most of the kids were playing.

There was a basketball court, lots of places to run as well as sit and just enjoy the day. It really was beautiful. You’d arrived there some while ago and even since you’ve been at the school it’s expanded. Charles wasted no expense making sure everyone felt at home.

When you made it outside you saw Charles and Logan talking, when the older man noticed you he waved you over. You obliged, crossing the grass, making sure to be wary of a few kids playing tag.

“Need me?” you asked when you reached the two men.

“Would you please show Logan to his room?” Charles asked you.

You nodded, “Of course! Come on.”

Logan followed you without a fight, maybe his talk with Charles helped. Once inside you climbed the stairs to the second floor which held student’s and teacher’s dorms.

Walking past a few doors you stopped in front of the one you knew to be empty, grabbing the door knob and pushing it open.

“This is where you’ll be staying, there is a bathroom so you won’t need to go looking for one,” you spoke, entering the room, Logan following behind you.

“Umm, food is served downstairs but you’re always welcome to eat up here, if there’s any food you like specifically we can buy it,” you found yourself rambling a bit, “I’m sensing you’re a steak on the raw side kind of guy.”

This made Logan chuckle, “What makes you say that?”.

You shrugged, “Your…vibe? And those dog tags around your neck say Wolverine.”

Logan looked down, seeming to notice the dog tags then, he quickly put them inside the jacket.

“So do you have some kind of…dog mutation?” you asked, almost cringing at your words.

This didn’t seem to faze him though, he only laughed again, he seemed less tense than before, even stepping a bit closer to you.

“No, I’m not a dog, I…,” Logan trailed off, and you jumped a bit when three sharp, long blades extended from his left fist.

“I get it now,” you said when you found your voice again, watching the claws retreat back into Logan’s knuckles. “Jean is probably going to make you come back down to the lab, figure out exactly why you have…well, that.”

Logan nodded, “So, do you have a silly code name too or is it just Y/N?”. He quirked up an eyebrow at you, making you smile a bit.

“Roulette,” you answered.

“Oh?” Logan asked, seeming to be intrigued.

“I can switch people’s mutations at will, I could make Scott have your claws and you have his laser eyes, but it’s temporary, so far the longest I’ve been able to make it last is a few hours and that’s been with years of training,” you explained, “It’s tricky, but, ya know, I’m stuck with it.”

“That’s…that’s really amazing,” Logan told you truthfully, making you blush.

“It’s nothing really, sometimes it does more harm than good,” you said, brushing off the compliment.

“Don’t we all?” Logan asked you, making you meet his gaze again.

He was closer to you now, your chests almost touching. You were interrupted by a quick knock on the door frame.

Scott.

“Jean wants him downstairs again,” Scott said, leaning against the door, no doubt glaring at Logan behind his glasses. “I’ll take you.”

Logan rolled his eyes, “Whatever you say bub.”

You glared at your brother before turning back to Logan, “I’ll see you later, and I’m two doors down, if you ever need anything.”

Giving Logan another smile you turned, leaving the room, bumping your shoulder against Scott’s, mumbling a “Be nice,” to him before heading to your own room.

Logan turned to Scott then, cocking his head, “You gonna tell me to stay away from your sister?”.

Scott stood up straight, folding his hands behind his back, “I shouldn’t have to.”

“I think she can make her own decisions,” Logan argued, stalking towards the other man. “Seems like a smart girl.”

“She is,” Scott replied, turning away from Logan to begin their decent down to the lower levels, “that’s why I trust that she’ll see you for what you really are soon enough.”

“Oh and what’s that?” Logan asked, beginning to follow Scott down the hall.

“Another asshole that will break her heart in a week,” Scott said, turning around to face Logan.

“Then you must not be that smart,” Logan smirked, “maybe take some pointers from your sister.”

A loud crack out in the hall made you stick your head out of your bedroom, and you saw Scott and Logan. Scott was cradling his fist, a string of curses leaving his mouth. Logan turned to look at you, shrugging and sending you a wink.

You rolled your eyes. Men.

“Come on you two,” you sighed, heading towards them. “Jean can wrap up your hand while he gets scanned.”

“Scanned?” Logan asked as you steered your still cursing twin towards the stairs.

“It’s an MRI really, nothing to worry about,” you reassured. Logan seemed a bit hesitant but nodded and followed.

Scott kept quiet the whole way after his cursing ended, his pride more hurt than his hand. When you reached the lab you pushed your brother towards his girlfriend.

“White Knight over here needs a bandage,” you joked, and Logan snorted a bit.

Jean sighed and nodded, “Take off your shirt and lay over there,” she directed Logan towards the large machine in the corner while Scott sat on another table.

You grabbed a first aid kit and handed it to Jean while Logan unzipped his jacket, tossing it onto a work station along with his dog tags.

He was, to put it lightly, ripped. You could already tell even with the jacket on, but seeing him with it off was enough to make you stare.

When he eventually caught you, you looked away, letting him climb up on the table while you directed your attention back to Scott and Jean.

Jean was wrapping his hand in gauze, “A sprain,” she mouthed to you over Scott’s shoulder and you nodding, smiling.

Turning back to Logan you walked to the edge of the table, he looked up at you and smirked.

“See something you like?” he asked, making you laugh and shake your head.

“I think that’s enough with the flirting for today lover boy,” you said, patting his arm. “I’ve gotta go help with dinner.”

Logan seemed a bit disappointed but nodded as you turned away from him.

“See you both later,” you told Jean and Scott as you made your way towards the door.

Jean nodded and Scott kept his head down, confirming his ego was more bruised than anything.

When you were out of sight of the three of them you took a minute to lean against the cold metal walls of the lower level, taking a deep breath.

Logan was going to be the death of you, you could already see that, but whether in a good or bad way you couldn’t quite tell yet.

After a second you pushed off the wall and headed back upstairs, joining Ororo and a few older students in the kitchen to help prepare dinner.

You stood beside Ororo, cutting vegetables, your mind wandering to Logan, him lying on that table…

Ororo nudged you just in time to keep you from slicing your finger open.

“Sorry,” you said, face heating up.

“Distracted?” she asked, giving you a knowing look.

“No!” you answered too quickly.

Ororo patted your shoulder as she moved to the other side of you to grab a knife, “Whatever you say kid.”

The rest of the night was spent trying to convince everyone, including yourself, that you were not crushing on the new guy.

But when you were headed to bed that night and Logan stopped you in the hall outside his room to thank you for the help and wish you goodnight, you knew you were doomed.

[lynnbanks]

Part 2 of Hidden Pregnancy

“You keeping this from him is going to break his heart” and it did.

Luke showed up an hour after he got the call, not his choice but what can you do? When Jack called him to tell him what happened his heart dropped. Luke has always been protective of y/n especially when it comes to her health because it hasn't always been that great. But the new medication should be helping with all of that.

But if you ask him it is making it worse. She had been more tired than he had ever seen her, more moody than normal and not to mention it wasn't doing the job it was supposed to be if she was passing out. This has happened before but never when he was away and it scared him.

And getting to the hospital an hour after the fact did not make him feel any better. Only after parking and finding her room did he feel a little relief; and that was gone the second he opened the door and saw her face it was obvious she had been crying and Jack looked pale and nervous and none of this was helping his nerves.

“Hi baby, how are you feeling?” he says while running a hand through her hair and scanning her for anything wrong. “ I'm going to go find something to drink,” Jack said getting up to leave but before he could open the door the ultrasound tech came in asking to take y/n back to get her ultrasounds done.

Luke looked confused. “An ultrasound?” y/n really didn't know how much more of this she could take. The ultrasound tech says “Yeah it shouldn't take too long, we just want to make sure everything is ok with the baby.” Luke's heart is starting to beat at an alarming rate he turns to look at y/n but she is avoiding his gaze like the plague.

Before he can form the words to ask what the fuck she is talking about the tech is helping her into a wheelchair and pushing her down the hall. Luke is quick to follow not wanting to panic or cause a scene but he needs answers.

When they got to the room the tech left to grab something and y/n climbed on the bed still avoiding his gaze “y/n what is she talking about? What baby?” y/n finally looked in his direction “Our baby…” “W-what do- what does that mean OUR baby y/n?” y/n can't look at him anymore turning her head “ I'm pregnant Luke.”

“ Okay, are we ready to get started?” the ultrasound tech asked her hands full of the supplies and papers she left to grab “From the charts I have you haven't actually seen your OB yet?” y/n answered her voice horse “no I'm not scheduled till Friday.”

The tech smiled and said, “Well I know the circumstances aren't ideal but this is usually a big deal for first-time parents. Are you dad?” she asked Luke “Um I'm yes” he said trying not to get choked up “Congratulations. How long have we known?” y/n speaks up refusing to look at Luke.

“About 3 weeks now. I'm around 11 weeks I think.”

Luke can't believe what he is hearing 3 weeks his girlfriend has been keeping the news of a baby from him. Why would she do that? The tech continued to ask questions while she prepped the sonogram machine. The air was tense as she put gel on y/n stomach and rubbed the wand around her stomach.

Until she turned the screen toward the two of them showing a tiny blob “ok that is baby and if we move a little this way is the heartbeat.” The fast thump thump thump filled the small room causing both Luke and y/n's eyes to fill with tears. Luke reaches out for her hand and squeezes it. They don't look at each other, just holding her hand is enough.

They stayed like that until the tech finished the exam. Everything she said after was a blur, everything but “ looks like the baby is doing good and checked all the boxes.” which lifted a weight off of both of their chests. “ I will come back with discharge papers and you will be good to leave.” be for walking out leaving them alone once again.

They sit in silence for a minute before Luke speaks up “You have known for 3 weeks and didn't think to tell me?” She can tell by his voice that he is holding back just how mad and hurt he really is. “ I was scared.”

“That isn't an excuse y/n that is our baby I have a right to know.” y/n can't do any more of this “ I don't want to talk about it.” Luke looks at her tired appearance; he hates that even when he is mad at her she still gets what she wants from him. Shaking his head he sits down and waits for the discharge papers.

They make it all the way home without saying a word to each other and y/n gets in bed without saying a word while Luke cries in the bathroom for a good 15 minutes before getting in bed next to her. How could she keep something like this away from him? Did she think he wasn't a good enough partner to raise a baby with? What if they were seriously hurt today? Did she not want him to be by her side with all of these new unknowns?

He only sleeps for 2 hours before getting up for practice he decided he would let her sleep in and when he gets back they will talk about all of this he even left a note saying just that. On his way out he runs into Jack he doesn't say anything just pulls him into a hug. “How are you doing?” Luke shrugged “Why wouldn't she tell me something like that?” Jack shook his head “She told me a little bit about it after the doctor outed her but I think you guys should talk to each other about it. I will say I know that she is acting with fear, not logic.”

Luke kept that in mind when he got home and found her in the bathroom throwing up everything in her system. Getting down on the floor with her and rubbing her back “Let it out, baby. Good girl.” when she has literally nothing left to give she sits up flushed and wipes her mouth. Luke grabbed some mouthwash and handed it to her. She swished it around and spit in the toilet.

Still sitting on the floor Luke pulled her into his lap

“ I'm ready to talk about this y/n,” he says her name so she knows he means business “Okay.” it comes out as a sigh. “ I just- why didn't you tell me? That isn't like you to keep secrets.” she shook her head and pulled herself closer to him “ I'm scared I don't want you to leave me.” it sounds silly the thought of these two ever not being together.

“Why would I do that? Because you are pregnant with our baby You really think I would do that?” she wipes the tears that fall from her face “ I know it sounds dumb but I have this fear that I will have to do it alone just like my mom and my sister; I can't do it, Luke.” he tries to soothe her by rubbing her back “ y/n by not telling me you put yourself in a place where you were doing it alone anyway. And if I'm honest it kind of upsets me that you ever thought of me in the same light as those boys.” he takes a deep breath “ I love you that will never change ever and from now on we are doing this together. I don't want any fears we might have to prevent us from telling each other everything I want to be there for it all.” y/n nodes her head yes in agreement

“ We both are equally responsible for this baby. I know I can't physically carry the baby right now but I will take the weight of everything else and we will do it together.” Luke pulled her up to look at him “I couldn't be happier that you are the mother of my child you are my best friend this doesn't change that okay?” y/n shakes her head yes pulling him in for a kiss “I'm sorry Luke no more secrets I promise” She leans her forehead onto his “I love you. And just so we're clear I don't think of you like that, I was just clouded with fear. And if I'm honest I am really excited to be having a baby with you.” Luke smiled big “We are having a baby! Can you believe it?” with all of the fear out of the way there was only room for excitement and they were going to enjoy the whole journey together.

Y'all know the deal. Hope this is good I really can't tell enjoy and let me know what you think. 💋💋

[wh0rezs]

MIRRORBALL

PAIRING: SULLIES X HUMAN ADOPTED DAUGHTER/SISTER! READER

SUMMARY: Being the Sullies only human child is much more difficult than most realize described by Taylor Swift’s “Mirrorball”

WARNINGS: angst, mentions of parents death, abandoned issues, seeking comfort in anyone, major character death (not Neteyam)

“And they called off the circus”

“Burned the disco down”

Your family at the RDA was something you called a circus. Not all only was it your soldier mother and your scientist father but Grace Augustine and Max Patel. Parker Selfridge even took you under his wing, and your mother’s team lifted you onto their shoulders.

Trudy took you flying, Grace gave you piggyback rides on her avatar body, Colonel Quaritch would let you fire a gun, Lyle once let you glue a wig onto his bald shiny head. Your own circus. You were even deemed “honorary sister” to the child growing in Paz’s stomach. The RDA was like non-stop disco but everything good must come to an end.

And the end came with Jake Sully. You liked Jake, he was buff soldier surrounded by a bunch of skinny armed scientists, and he raced you in his wheelchair. But something changed when Jake got accepted into Omaticaya.

The scientists left RDA, moving to remote location and along with them went your father. Your mother cursed his name, saying he had gone soft hearted on the animals which plagued this earth. You felt trapped but you still had some of your circus left.

But then it burned down. A war came with both of parents fighting on the opposite sides of it. Your father in his avatar body and your mother in her helicopter. You were left alone with Max Patel, praying that they would both come back to you. Neither of them did.

Your mother had been taken out by Ikrans and your father was shot repeatedly in his avatar and then choked on Pandora’s air.

So your circus was called off and the disco burned down.

“When they sent home the horses”

“And the rodeo clowns”

After the war, humans were forced to leave, expected you and MJ. You watched as Jake, Norm and many other Omaticaya guided your family into the ship.

You had hidden out of sight but Parker Selfridge had seen you. You liked Parker. He had sure you were entertain expect that one time he forced you into school. Your parents often describe him as a clown, so you did too. But you mentioned right in front his face.

You remember everyone in the room going silent, waiting Parker’s reaction. He laughed, saying that you had spunk. Oftentimes when he was taking care of you, he would carry on the circus theme by calling the workers under him horses.

Yet here they were leaving you. You knew they did terrible things but they were your circus. Parker nodded his head for you to come out, so you did, running to him for one last hug.

“You gonna be alright,kid. I am giving you my number in case you need to call but I heard that Sully has adopted you, per your father’s request.” Parker spoke as he wrapped his arms around your back. Parker would never admit to it but he really thought of you as his kid.

A large blue landed on your shoulder, pulling you away. Jake stood way above you and signaled for Parker to start walking again. Once he reached the plane’s entrance, he waved and headed inside. You turned into Jake’s legs and cried.

They had sent home the horses and rodeo clowns.

“I’m still on that tightrope”

Before your father met his untimely demise, he asked Jake to watch over you if he died. Jake honored his promise. He had spoken to Neytiri many times about you and Neytiri knew your father’s avatar, so she agreed.

The whole adoption process was like walking on a tightrope. You had to balance out, carefully staying on that thin line. Most Omaticaya couldn’t say stuff to you, due to you being the Olo’eyktan’s daughter but you didn’t want to lose your balance, tipping off any of them. Omaticaya would never really accept you as human, especially after what they did as Hometree. Many of the People would send glances full of fury with their hands tightening around their bows.

Your adopted parents took care of you but soon they were welcoming a son. An Na’vi son. One who looked like them.

So you remained on that tightrope once Neteyam, your brother, was born.

“I’m still trying everything to get you laughing at me”

You found yourself in Parker’s position, a mascot. The human mascot for the growing family of the Sullies. You liked your baby siblings but they couldn’t tell you how proud they were of you.

As the mascot, you tried to keep your family happy. Trying to get them laughing even on the days when your adopted mother would send hateful gazes towards you.

Soon you realize that you just power through those days, and still make sure your family was laughing.

“I'm still a believer but I don't know why”

You liked to believe, considering yourself a believer. You liked to believe that you were the first born Na’vi daughter of the Sullies, a profound warrior like your mother or future Tsahík like your grandmother.

Yet you were pulled back into reality as you peered at your reflection in a stream. You had your father’s eyes with your mother’s hair. You shared their skin color, which wasn’t a blue.

You like to believe that they were still alive,too. You and them had nice little cottage inside the forest along with your human brother, Spider. Your mother help teach young Omaticaya fighting while your father took care of injuries. Spider and you grew up close with the Sullies, and at night your small family would join them, then walk to the cottage.

Yet once again you pulled back into reality as you heard Jake shout your name, calling out it was lunchtime.

You were a believer yet with painful stuff to believe and you didn’t know why.

“I've never been a natural”

“All I do is try, try, try”

Contrary to what any people believe, you couldn’t do anything relating to Na’vi training.

Unlike your siblings, you couldn’t shoot an bow nor climb a tree under 3 minutes. You couldn’t fish, hunt or fight. You were useless. Your father would tell you nonsense, saying you helped Mo’at and Kiri with healing and injuries but you couldn’t help your feelings.

So all you did was train but you were no natural. Even Spider could do more than you, but you tried. And tried. Tried again but your abilities never honed.

You weren’t a natural at anything but you did try, try again and try.

“I'm still on that trapeze”

Many years had passed since your adoption and you finally made it off the tightrope, yet now you were on a trapeze. Swinging from being a honorary Omaticaya to trying to catch onto being a human. Luckily, this time you had Spider being your trapeze partner.

Spider knew the pains of being a human in a Na'vi world but sometimes he felt closer to the Omaticaya unlike you. You felt at home with humans considering 7 years of your life you were raised by the RDA. So you lost your trapeze partner, flipping onto one bar waiting for the other one to come without the force of another.

So you were still on that trapeze.

“I'm still trying everything”

“To keep you looking at me”

In the forest, you had always tried to have someone’s eyes on you but in Awa'atlu you can’t get away from watchful eyes. As your family settled into the ways of Metkayina’s, you remained a stranger.

Strange and dangerous creature is what the Metkayina would tell their children, as they glares bullets into your skull. Then after a half of year living with them, the RDA found your family again.

Everything after that point was a blur, you can remember Lo‘ak leaving to rescue his ‘brother’, your siblings and you with the help of the Metkayina children pulling off the tracker off of Payakan.

Then the ship came and some of your siblings were taken but you and Neteyam saved them. Lo'ak convincing Neteyam to rescue Spider, which you three did but then every stopped.

You had pushed your three brothers into the water, has you held off the avatars. Just you were about to jump into the water, a searing pain flared in your chest— a bullet had hit you. Stumbling into the water, your brothers cheered until you announced you were shot.

You were brought to an rocky island where Tsireya began to address your wound while your brothers comforted you— Spider holding your hand as he talked about your childhood with him— as your parents arrived. Your final wish was to see home again— your circus, rodeo clowns and horses. To stop believing, and trying. To finally come down from that tightrope and trapeze.

You felt peace as you walked through the forest,reveling in your new home with your father and godmother Grace.

Jake and Neytiri were brought to first time you three were a family. Oftentimes, you would flicker in between you as child to you as an adult. Though you would always mutter the same sentence.

“I tried everything to keep you looking at me.”

[sugaldean]

Continuing on my Adaine is a wheelchair user hc:

Probably one leg amputee Adaine in my head

Gorgug incredibly improved her wheelchair when he was sure he could. He spent a lot of time researching and learning the mechanics of wheelchairs and learned how to adapt Adaine's so it's precisely what she needs. It can teleport to her (her prosthetic leg as well) if she needs it, it has spell slots and a gun holder.

It's made for non-smooth terrain cause you never know when adventure might take you. She uses it at school and in town as well but she walks a lot cause it's not the most manœuvrable wheelchair. But Gorgug promised once he is confident and good enough he will build another one for her so she has two different wheelchair for different purpose.

You know Fig absolutely pimp the shit out of it. It can change colour and if you touch the handle without permission there's a sick metal music that screams "HANDS OFF". When Adaine does wheelies the wheels light up. Ayda, Fig and Adaine are currently working real hard on making a prosthetic leg that can change shape (dragon feet, talon, articulated bootleg, etc)

Fabian secretly bibred town officials so every street and official building is wheelchair accessible. On the day to day life he and Adaine practice dance and he slaps her with a towel. Everyone around is outraged but Adaine loves it and she punches him with Adaine's furious fist almost everytime. There's a room in Seacaster manor especially for Adaine where she can relax her muscles and her stump.

Kristen simply never misses gym day with Adaine. First off you can't be an effective well built cleric if you can't safely carry your friend on her wheelchair. Second Adaine has crazy arm strength now and our strong girls just love lifting.

Riz has Wheelchair Privilege. He is the only one allowed on Adaine's wheelchair. He has a reserve spot under her siege that he can use as a hidden place for sneak attack. But mostly Adaine and Riz are super close because Riz often offers a more chill and relaxing energy than the rest of the Bad Kids which helps Adaine on the tough days. Riz is very caring and has done TONES of research of what can help Adaine, what already exist and what they can invent for her. He obviously shares it all with the others.

[mavrintarou]

Wipe Your Eyes [5]

Happy birthday Sakusa Kiyoomi

Warning: none just Kiyoomi trying to be better and do better

Fourth Part - Sixth part

.

Kiyoomi despised this sensation, the feeling of treading on eggshells and thin ice. It reminded him of the time when he was first getting to know Y/n years ago, as if they were starting from scratch once more.

He can’t remember the last time his palms were this sweaty.

He glanced down at Y/n, who walked beside him as they entered the clinic to undergo their first ultrasound for their baby.

Y/n adamantly refused to take a seat in her wheelchair, so it remained stored in the trunk of his car, kept there just in case.

With a determination expression, she walked into the clinic, having woken up early to get ready. Kiyoomi had observed her as she went through various clothing options in their walk-in closet. He had prepared a fresh glass of orange juice, having read that it helps with morning sickness, even though he noticed she hadn’t experienced any morning sickness yet.

Letting out a deep sigh, he mustered up the courage to make his move. He extended his hand, gently intertwining their fingers together. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed her gaze shifting towards their entwined hands, before lifting her gaze to meet his.

She doesn’t say anything, but allowed him to hold her hand, leading them to the front desk to check in.

“Sakusa Y/n,” Kiyoomi answered when asked about the name for the patient.

If there was one thing besides Y/n herself that Kiyoomi had desired after their marriage, itw as for her to take his last name. He vividly recalled the surge of pride and joy he felt when she signed the papers to officially change her name to Sakusa Y/n.

The lady narrows her eyes at him in curiosity before asking, “are you MSBY Black Jackals’ outside hitter Sakusa Kiyoomi by any chance?”

“Yes?” Y/n could hear the suspiciousness in his tone. “Why do you ask?”

“Kiyoomi,” Y/n calls his name softly and calmly, she looks at the front desk lady, “this is the Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

Her face immediately lit up, “my twelve-year-old son is a huge fan of you, Mr. Sakusa. May I please have a photo of you to show him?”

Y/n looks up at him and he can see how her eyes crinkle, smiling underneath her mask. She tugs her hand to step aside but Kiyoomi held on, “let the lady take a picture of you, hmm?”

He grunts and lets her hand go, tugging his mask down. He looks straight at the lady with his signature serious look.

“Smile,” Y/n whispered.

The corner of his lips curved into a fleeting smile, revealing his hidden dimples for a brief moment, just as the lady snapped a photo. “Thank you,” she smiled, “you may sit in the yellow zone over there; the nurse will call you in a bit.”

Kiyoomi takes Y/n’s hand again, leading her in the pointed direction. He pulls her to the first seat available.

“I’m pregnant, Kiyoomi, not fragile,” she assured him, watching as he let out a soft sigh.

He crouched down in front of her, “I know you’re fine, and your legs aren’t hurting,” he replied, his voice filled with relief. “I just worry too much sometimes; I’ll try to relax.”

“Yes, breathe, Omi,” Her fingers push the loose curls back in place.

How can I when you want to leave me? He thought to himself.

“Sakusa Y/n?”

Y/n exhales softly, “let’s go see our baby.”

. .

Kiyoomi’s hand fumbles as the nurse talks through the appointment, “ready?”

They both nodded their heads, silently watching the nurse pulls Y/n’s shirt up. “Just going to squeeze some jelly here…”

Kiyoomi glances at Y/n, noticing her hand squeezing his own, her grip tightened by anxiety. He gently placed his other hand over hers, providing a reassuring touch. She turned her head to look at their intertwined hands before meeting his gaze, her eyes searching for solace.

Like earlier, it was his turn to remind her - he mouthed breathe and she let out a soft exhale before turning her attention back to the screen.

“There you are…”

As Kiyoomi gazed up at the small monitor, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust and comprehend what he was seeing. And then, his focus sharpened, and his heart rate and breath slowed as he took in the sight before him – a tiny, precious glob that held so much meaning and love.

“Looking at your test results looks like you’re about twelve going on to thirteen weeks pregnant.” The nurse glances at both Kiyoomi and Y/n, “congratulations mom and dad.”

. .

Safely tucked inside his back pocket, Kiyoomi carried the four small ultrasound images with utmost care. The nurse had kindly obliged has requested extra copies, and he couldn’t contain his excitement and joy as he held those precious snapshots of their unborn child.

Will their baby be a boy or a girl?

Will they look more like him? Or Y/n?

He prayed they don’t inherit his curly hair.

“’Yoomi.”

Breaking out of his trance, Kiyoomi glanced at Y/n beside him, noticing her expression. He immediately halted his steps and positioned himself in front of her. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, concern etched on his face.

She nodded gently, “yes, you’re just walking too fast for me,” she admitted, her voice filled with understanding.

His expression softened, and he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I got too excited about the baby.”

Their eyes locked in a moment longer than expected, and Y/n whispered, “me too.”

Kiyoomi’s heart skipped a beat, pounding against his chest. “I love you,” he said, a mixture of tenderness and excitement in his voice. “Let’s go find something to eat.”

. .

“Why don’t the first session or two be just you and then we can include your wife after?”

“Sure,” Kiyoomi agreed, it wasn’t what he wanted but if the therapist suggested it, he wasn’t going to go against it. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning then.”

Walking out of Y/n’s office, he walks right past the master bedroom before stopping and backtracking. Leaning against the doorway, he watches Y/n sleep soundlessly. She’s sitting upright against the headboard with her head tilted to the right.

Kiyoomi couldn’t help but notice the increasing frequency of Y/n’s naps, a detail he learned from the pregnancy book he had diligently read. He found himself closely observing her as she dozed off, concern and curiosity intermingling in his thoughts.

As quietly and gently as possible, Kiyoomi pulls the cover back to lift her up and lay her down. Her eyes open and he grabs the cover, quickly pulling it over her. “I don’t want your neck to hurt later.”

Y/n’s tired eyes locked with his, and she reached out to grab his wrist. “Hold me, please?” she whispered, a longing in her words that tugged at his heartstrings. Without hesitation, Kiyoomi climbed into bed beside her, his movements gentle and deliberate. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him, ensuring that she felt safe and enveloped in his warmth. Their bodies molded together, offering a comforting embrace that reassured her in the most profound way.

After a few minutes, Kiyoomi reached over to grab an additional pillow, adjusting it to provide support for his neck. He carefully shifted Y/n in his arms, making slight adjustments until he found a position of comfort for both of them. As he gazed down at her, his mind inevitably wandered back to the painful moments when everything in their relationship had started to crumble.

Kiyoomi couldn’t ignore the change in his own attitude that had occurred a few months back. The memories of the handful of times he had snapped at Y/n for trivial matters. He knew his behavior had hurt her, and he regretted the pain he caused.

Dishes are not dried and put away.

Folding his pants, the wrong way.

Her shoes that were in the way and not on the shoe rack.

Y/n lets out a deep breath in her sleep and Kiyoomi tightens his arms around her, pulling her closer.

His lips pressed gently against her forehead.

Kiyoomi made a resolute decision.

He was determined to save his marriage, to mend the fractures that had formed between them. With unwavering commitment, he vowed to put in the effort and work needed to rebuild their relationship and create a future together filled with love, understanding and forgiveness. . .

Speaking to a stranger seated across from him proved to be a challenging task. The weight of the conversation pressed on Kiyoomi’s shoulders, making it difficult for him to find the right words. The unfamiliarity and lack of shared history made opening up even more daunting, adding to the complexity of the situation.

“It’s okay, take your time.” Dr. Kitagowa assured.

Kiyoomi wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, feeling the nervousness bubbling within him. He took a deep breath, gathering the courage to share his past. “Growing up, my parents argued a lot,” he began, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. “My older sister, brother and I would often retreat to our rooms whenever they fought. It became a pattern, something I learned to avoid and suppress.”

“What did they fight about?”

Memories resurfaced at the question and Kiyoomi exhaled. “They fought about various things, stupid things,” he replied, “money, responsibilities, misunderstanding… it seemed like there was always something. The arguments were intense, and it created an atmosphere of tension in our household.”

“Was that it?”

“My mom… accused him of cheating. Having a mistress…”

“Did he?”

Kiyoomi learned to shut those memories out. He never knew. His mother’s relentless accusation of his father having a mistress, and his father denying all allegations. The constant back-and-forth created a toxic dynamic within their family, leaving Kiyoomi and his two siblings in the middle of their disputes. It was a painful chapter of his life, one that he had tried to block out and bury.

“I don’t know…”

Dr. Kitagowa scribbled notes down on his notepad before asking the next question, “what happened next?”

Kiyoomi’s voice wavered slightly as he continued to open up about his past. “My parents’ conflicts eventually reached a breaking point,” he shared, his words tinged a mix of sadness and resignation. “They decided to get a divorce during my first year of high school.”

“How did that make you feel?”

He let out a bitter chuckle, “it was a challenging time for all of us, filled with uncertainty and upheaval. I remember feeling lost as if the ground beneath me had shifted.”

“Was that how you truly felt?”

Kiyoomi’s gaze soften as he recalled how his family found their own paths after the divorce. “Yes, in a way, they did stop arguing,” he admitted. “But the divorce brought it’s own set of challenges. There was a sense of loss, not just from their relationship, but also of the family dynamic I had known. It took time to adjust to the new reality, and it left me with a cautious approach towards relationships and a fear of experiencing the same turmoil.”

He felt like he was walking in his father’s exact shoes.

“What about your father?”

“After my dad moved out, my mom focused on taking care of us and ensuring we had stability in our lives. She worked hard to provide for us, and I’m grateful for her dedication. Eventually, she found happiness again and remarried her current husband. It wasn’t an easy journey, but it taught me the importance of resilience and finding joy even in difficult times.”

“What was your parent’s career?”

Kiyoomi sighed, his memories weaving together with his words. “My dad was a professional volleyball player, and his passion for the sport rubbed off on me. He taught me the basics, and I quickly developed a love for the sport. As for my mom, she worked as a nurse, dedicating herself to helping others. Both of them have since retired from their careers and are enjoying a more relaxed pace of life.”

Those days were a blur for Kiyoomi. His dad rarely visited; he accepted a long-term position playing for Italy. His mom kept herself busy with work while his two older siblings were off to college. They kept in touch with him while he was the only one living at home with his mom. He kept himself occupied with volleyball and earned his title during his high school years.

“How did you cope during these times?”

“Volleyball.”

Volleyball was the only thing that didn’t leave him.

Until he met Y/n during their college years.

Kiyoomi was having lunch alone in the cafeteria one day, annoyed by the unnecessary loudness around him. Amidst the chaos, his eyes caught sight of her. She stood out from the crowd, wearing a black mask just like his. As he observed her from a distance, he couldn’t help but be captivated by her presence. Her graceful movements, the way she carried herself with confidence and a hint of mystery, intrigued him. It was as if she possessed an aura that set her apart from everyone else.

He then saw the sign; it was the Writing Club that was having a bakery sale.

He found himself at the table, uncertain of how he ended up there, but instinctively reaching for a bag of sugar cookies. Oddly enough, he wasn’t particularly fond of sweets.

“That’ll be $5 dollars.” She smiled so beautifully up at him and Kiyoomi fished out a $20 dollar bill.

“Keep the change.”

Her eyes widen, “you sure?”

“My donation.”

He turned his heels and hurried away before she could see the blush from beneath his mask.

Kiyoomi would run into her thereafter.

“Are you available tonight?” His tone unintentionally conveyed a touch of urgency, more than he intended.

She gazed at him with wide, innocent eyes, softly responding, “yes?”

His heart raced and pounded forcefully in his chest. “Would you… be interested in coming to my game?” he asked.

Kiyoomi’s heart leaped with joy as the corner of her lips curved into a sweet smile. She briefly glanced down, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink, before meeting his gaze again. “I’ll see you later,” she whispered, leaving him with a warmth that lingered long after she walked away.

Three months passed, and finally, he mustered the courage to ask her out.

Two years later, he got down on one knee and asked to be with her forever.

She was his constant light, even more, constant than volleyball.

Despite disagreements, she still chose him.

Kiyoomi was well aware of his own stubborn nature, recognizing that he could be as unyielding as a rock. He understood that loving him could be a challenging endeavor.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he gazed out the window. “Volleyball and Y/n were my lifelines,” he whispered softly. “She was my foundation, providing stability when I felt lost, and yet she also allowed me to adapt and evolve, urging me to become a better version of myself.”

Dr. Kitagowa’s pen scribbled, the room was so quiet Kiyoomi could hear the pen marking the paper loud and clear.

“How would you describe your relationship with your wife?”

Kiyoomi took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the tranquil cup of water in front of him. “She’s my first girlfriend, my first in so many ways,” he confessed, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and vulnerability. “You see, I’ve never been the most friendly or approachable person, but Y/n… she’s like a flawless being. Kind, beautiful… she’s the light that shines through my darkest moments. Being with her fills me with immeasurable happiness. I struggle to express my emotions, but when I asked her to be my girlfriend, she brought me the greatest joy I’ve ever known.” He let out a soft sigh, a tender smile gracing his lips. “And when I proposed, and she said yes, nothing else in the world mattered to me but her.”

He continued, his voice filling with regret. “She always went above and beyond to make sure I knew she loved me…” his voice cracked, overcome with emotion. “I knew… I should have tried harder, not less, after we got married. I knew… I was falling short. I knew I was taking her for granted…” a tear escaped, tracing a path down his cheek. “I could see it, two years into our marriage. Her eyes weren’t as bright as they once were. Her voice no longer…”

Kiyoomi leans forward, elbows on his knees as his palms covered his face – allowing the tears to spill.

“Here’s some tissue, Mr. Sakusa.”

Reaching over, Kiyoomi delicately takes two pieces of tissue and gently dabs his eyes, feeling the weight of his emotions. It had been a considerable amount of time since he last shed tears, the previous occasion being when Y/n accepted his proposal of marriage. It was a vulnerable moment had kept hidden from Y/n, an intimate detail shared only with his own heart.

“I’m turning into my father,” he muttered, sitting upright, his voice filled with frustration. “Just like him.” He blew his nose, attempting to compose himself. “My parents were high school sweethearts. She was his entire world… just as Y/n is mine.” He lets out a sharp exhale, his gaze shifting to Dr. Kitagowa. “It feels like some kind of curse, but I refuse to succumb to it. I don’t want my marriage to Y/n to crumble like my parents. I have a child on the way, I refuse to become a single parent. I know I need to change, and I’m genuinely willing to make that change to ensure the success of my marriage.”

. .

Y/n gently massaged her calves, feeling the familiar ache that often set in when she had been on her feet for an extended period of time. Constantly reminding herself that she was still in the process of healing, Y/n knew she needed to prioritize taking it easy and not push herself too hard.

Taking a seat in her work chair, she continued to answer some work emails, her fingers typing on autopilot. However, her mind wandered elsewhere, distracted by thoughts that refused to be confined to the realm of work.

“I love you Kiyoomi, I just don’t think I’m in love with you anymore.”

The moment the words left her mouth, a wave of regret washed over her. She instantly realized the gravity of what she had said, yet she found herself unable to retract them, trapped in a mix of guilt and inability to take back her words.

She still in love with Kiyoomi.

Y/n was acutely aware of the power of hurtful words, understanding how they had the potential to inflict deep wounds and cause immense pain. She knew all too well the sharpness with which they could slice through someone’s emotions, leaving lasting scars in their wake.

The agonizing expression on Kiyoomi’s face at the time she uttered those words lingered in her mind, haunting her relentlessly ever since. The memory of his pain served as a constant reminder of the hurt she had inflicted, adding to her own remorse and sorrow.

Leaning back into her chair, Y/n found herself instinctively resting her hands on her belly, even though she hadn’t started showing yet. She absentmindedly began to rub her tummy, a natural and soothing gesture that brought a sense of comfort in that moment.  

Her thoughts are disrupted when she hears the beeping of their front door.

Kiyoomi?

Was he back from his therapy session?

She heard the door closing and she was about to call his name when footsteps hurried down the hall.

Getting up she barely catches Kiyoomi running into their bedroom with a hand over his mouth.

“Kiyoomi?”

She hurried after him to see him dart right into their master bathroom.

Her eyes widened in shock as she witnessed him kneeling over the toilet bowl, his face contorted in discomfort as he vomited out his breakfast.

“Don’t,” he snapped, hastily extending his hand to signal her not to come any closer. “I’ll be fine,” he reassured, his voice strained with discomfort.

Ignoring him, Y/n grabbed a towel, quickly running it under warm water, and instead of giving it to him – she wiped his face and mouth.

After flushing the toilet, he slumped down against the wall, his body still heaving with the aftermath of his ordeal.

Kiyoomi’s complexion appeared pale, and his face showed signs of exhaustion, indicating the toll of his sickness had taken on him.

“What happened?” Y/n asked worried, wiping his face. She gets up to grab a bottle of water from their cabinet that Kiyoomi often stocked up.

He sips and gurgle water, spitting it into the toilet bowl. “I was fine until I got home…” He relaxed against the wall, closing his eyes.

“Come, change and go lay down.” She reached out to pull him up, her petite frame reminded her of the noticeable height difference between them.

She gently pulled at his shirt, carefully removing it and tossing it into the laundry basket. Making her way to their shared closet, she selected one of his many black shirts.

Meanwhile, Kiyoomi discarded his pants, adding them to the growing pile in the laundry basket, leaving him standing there in his boxer briefs.

Y/n felt a sudden warmth spread across her cheeks as if it were the first time she had seen her husband in such a state of undress.

“Here,” she hands him the shirt, looking away.

Kiyoomi takes it without a word and walks over to the sink to wash his face.

Exiting the bathroom, Y/n made her way to their bed, gently tugging the covers. Kiyoomi followed and dropped onto their bed.

With tender affection, Y/n pulled the covers over him, arranging them in place with a nurturing touch reminiscent of caring for a child. The act carried a sense of intimacy and tenderness, reinforcing the bond they shared as partners and companions.

“Can I get you anything?” She asked, pushing his curls.

He shakes his head, closing his eyes. “No, but don’t be on your feet for too long, and make sure to eat, okay?”

“Yes, Yomi,” Y/n answered, rolling her eyes, and leaving him to rest.

.

Y/n turns her computer off for the day and goes to check on Kiyoomi for the nth time. It’s been four hours and she has checked on him a few times – finding him sleeping soundlessly.

“Kiyoomi?” Y/n called softly, seeing the bed empty with the comforters thrown half across the bed. She heads to the bathroom and knocks on the door, “Kiyoomi, are you okay?”

On the other side, she could hear him gagging.

The door was locked as she tried to turn the door knob. “Omi! Omi open the door for me please.”

He was not prone to falling ill often, but when sickness did manage to take hold, it tended to hit him hard, usually resulting in severe symptoms.

The door clicks and opens, he looks at her with the same pale face from earlier as he wipes his mouth with his hand. He walked past her and back into bed.

“Let’s go to the hospital.” Y/n pleaded, trailing behind him.

“No,” he answered, getting back into bed, and pulling the covers over his shoulder, “I’ll get over it. It’s probably a bug.”

.

Four days later, Y/n pleaded with him to visit the hospital and get his condition checked by a medical provider.

By this point, exhaustion had taken its toll on him. Every time he attempted to eat or drink something, it would inevitably be regurgitated within minutes to hours, leaving him in a constant state of discomfort and fatigue.

He couldn’t keep anything down and had absolutely zero energy.

He was bedridden.

Y/n taken the last few days off to watch over him, even if it was just him sleeping most of the time.

He surrendered himself to her embrace, his tall 6’3” frame seeking solace in the cozy confines of her small, petite form. In between the moments of rushing to the bathroom, he found peace in deep slumber, snuggled tightly against her side. His long arms enveloped her waist, providing a sense of security and comfort amidst his illness.

Occasionally, she had to gently rouse him from his sleep to sip on small amounts of apple juice, the only thing they could manage to keep down. It became a routine, carefully coaxing him to drink the soothing liquid, hoping it would provide him with some nourishment and relief from his persistent sickness.

He let out a soft groan against her chest, his words barely audible as he mumbled something incoherent before drifting back to sleep once more.

Every time he stirred in her arms, she would instinctively freeze, not wanting to disrupt his rest. She held her breath, careful not to make any sudden movement that might disturb his fragile state.

When his breath would steady, she would continue to read her pregnancy book.

Couvade Syndrome

New fathers may experience pregnancy symptoms such as nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and or constipation…

… some may experience mood swings, fatigue, and other physical and psychological common symptoms…

.

“So,” Kiyoomi muttered, pulling his mask down slightly, “you’re telling me I’m experiencing pregnancy symptoms on behalf of Y/n?”

The doctor nods, “very possible. All your symptoms are clear indications of Couvade Syndrome but continue to monitor yourself and we can do some further testing if it doesn’t get better.”

Y/n squeezed Kiyoomi’s hand as they walk out of the clinic. “Do you want me to drive?”

“No, I’m fine,” he grumbled, his tone slightly dismissive. However, as he glanced down at her with gentle eyes, his expression softened. “But thank you,” he added, a note of appreciation lacing his words.

They get into his car and Y/n mutter, “sorry you have to endure this, I know how much you hate being sick.”

Before they could leave the parking lot, Kiyoomi turned his body halfway towards her, taking a deep breath to gather his thoughts. Y/n mirrored his movement, turning her body towards him, her gaze filled with anticipation.

Kiyoomi gently reaches out, tucking some loose strands of hair behind her ear. His voice carried a mix of determination and tenderness as he spoke. “I will endure this Couvade shit… if it means that you don’t have to go through it. I want to share the burden and make sure you have a smoother pregnancy journey.”

. . .

E/n: Our baby is trying - thank you for being patient with me and WYE.

>>> @pierroswife @queenelleee @eadyladlegard @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy @chickflickjunkie @saikisho3 @sunawayx @vicolangelo @tsumu-senpai @famebydefinition @imnotjo @jojowantstocry @levistiddies

[dandylovesturtles]

Hello, Wheelchair Annon here again (my sister parked me in the corner). I hope you don’t mind me chiming in again…

One of the biggest things that changed from being able bodied to being in a wheelchair is other people’s attitudes towards me. This is in two main ways:

Talking to whoever is with me instead of talking directly to me, even if it’s about me. People act as if I am mentally incapable and unable to participate in conversation, or even just act like I’m not there.

No respect for my personal space. I’m talking random strangers and people I barely know doing stuff, usually without even talking to me. This has included: someone coming up behind me and rocking my wheelchair back and forth; someone hanging sitting behind me hanging their jacket on the handles of my wheelchair; leaning on my wheelchair while in a lift; and messing with the controls of my electric wheelchair so I move even when I don’t want to.

How does Leo cope with this change in attitude towards him? (Does it actually happen, or are Yokai more egalitarian?). Leo considers himself the face man; how does he cope when other people don’t see him in the same way anymore? How does he cope when other non- human people don’t always see him as a person? (And does this factor into any issues he may have vis-a-vis growing up as a non human in a human world for the first 14 years of his life?)

(Also, I have a bunch more stuff I can think of relating to wheelchair use, being disabled, chronic fatigue and other stuff, but I really don’t want to overwhelm you. Would you like me to keep asking/pointing out stuff? I will not be offended if you say no!! <3)

Anon, PLEASE feel free to keep sending me these! Whatever you feel comfortable sharing! Like I said at the beginning of this, I'm able-bodied myself, so I can research all day but it's not the same as having lived experience, and I'm really grateful for your perspective! ^^

I've heard the horror stories from other wheelchair users about people just thinking they can do whatever they want with wheelchairs (which is insane to me, like, if you wouldn't rock a chair a stranger is sitting in why would you do that with a wheelchair??), it's why I included the whole point about how only the fam (+Hueso who is very responsible) is allowed to grab Leo's wheelchair handles without repercussion. It's still crazy to me that people just feel entitled to move your wheelchair or hang stuff off of it, though.

The thing about people no longer talking directly to you though, oof. I've heard people who are deaf talk about this happening but it makes sense that it would happen to wheelchair users too. I'm sorry that happens to you, anon.

To answer the questions... to start with, I don't think being accepted by humans is ever really a thing rise!Leo is particularly concerned with, and especially after they learned about yokai and the Hidden City he had other ways to fulfill his social needs that don't involve trying to get humans to accept being around mutant turtles. There is that little voice in the back of his head pointing out that he is Other, but in canon at least I don't think he lets it get him down too much.

as for yokai society itself, though, this is an interesting thing to think about! on one hand, yokai have a much greater mix of... appendage situations?? going on than humans do, so I wouldn't be surprised if the Hidden City is generally more accessible, just because shops are already factoring in that some of their customers won't have legs/arms/what have you. on the flip side, though, the chair itself is a pretty obvious visual indicator that even for his species Leo is disabled, and that would probably still lead to people talking to his siblings like he isn't there.

this would definitely be a hit to Leo's confidence, since it ties into the things he already struggles with. and to make things worse, I think it's one of those things that his family probably doesn't even realize is happening at first? especially because the experiences are spread around, so they're all getting fewer instances of it happening to notice than Leo is. but yeah I could see one of them going through a whole conversation without realizing that the person they're talking to hasn't talked to or directly responded to Leo once, and at the end they're like, "oh, they're so nice!" while Leo is sitting there feeling like he just got completely closed out of the conversation

I think Leo would just let it go for awhile at first. why would people want to talk to him, he's the failure brother! he may not even realize it's just a response to the wheelchair, initially. but as Leo gets healthier mentally (and maybe finds some community support, either online or in person), he'd start sticking up for himself more often.

I can imagine one day someone asks Raph, "Oh, how is Leo?" and Leo is like, "Leo's great, actually, his ears work just fine!" and that's the moment Raph realizes that this has been happening the whole time and for awhile Leo just let it happen and oops they just let it happen too

they are learning, though! nowhere to go but up!

[queer-crip-grows]

Right-to-buy council houses without specifically only releasing housing that already had a replacement built was of the most notable ways of the *many* that Thatcher et al screwed the UK.

I’d love to have a law put in place that landlords either have to sign contracts to provide housing under council house-type contracts with rent controls to people on housing benefit etc, or sell to the local council at compulsory purchase prices.

Same for all the houses not being lived in - use to house people under contractual controls, or have to sell to the council housing central fund.

Personally I’d start converting all the office units that are no longer needed because so many people are working remotely now into housing too.

Same for the huge city centre shops - I’m not sure if the pattern repeats elsewhere, but I live near Glasgow and the city centre has basically died since Covid. No one is renting the huge retail stores and the place is full of unhoused folk, which is a fucking scandal. So convert them into housing; let the buildings see use, and let those folks get off the streets. Pets and kids specifically allowed too - get families out of one-room shelters and into proper homes of their own.

I’ve heard that there would be issues putting in water infrastructure, but given the place is literally crumbling already and usage in so many areas is so low that having workers digging up the streets to install water lines wouldn’t cause enormous disruption, the time to do this is *now*. Build rainwater catchment and purification systems on roofs too - we get so much rain in the UK it’s kind of ridiculous not to use it! Some of that could go directly to drip irrigation in gardens, but plenty could go right into the houses/flats too. And of course this would provide tons of jobs in construction, architecture, planning etc etc.

Install gardens and green spaces around the place while you are doing this - offer some at low rent, or to buy cheaply, to market gardeners, but specifically put spaces in for communal gardens with the idea of offering allotments and encouraging people to grow their own food.

Put solar panels on every roof and integrate spaces for smaller wind turbines amongst the houses too. Huge storage batteries in basements to make the new blocks as low-footprint and self-sufficient as possible power-wise.

It would be a *fantastic* opportunity to create genuinely accessible housing - office buildings and shops already have lifts and wide corridors ideal for wheelchairs and other mobility devices, so keep that in the design when creating housing. There is a hidden epidemic of houselessness amongst disabled people and older folk with mobility needs, so create low-rent council housing that specifically fits those needs there.

It would regenerate the areas - all the smaller shopfronts not suitable for housing conversion would fill up with people offering the things people in residential neighbourhoods need, with a guaranteed payer base. People on low incomes *use* all of their incomes on necessities, so small businesses selling those necessities will do well. Offer small businesses low rents to provide those necessities. Any that don’t fill up, offer to charities and use for council staff offering the aid and advice people transitioning into housing actually *need*.

Carers are generally low-paid - so this would be an opportunity to offer them cheap housing close to a huge client base in the new accessible housing. No need for low-paid, mostly-female workers to dash constantly between clients in cars. They could walk to work and walk in between clients, who would also no longer be trapped in inaccessible homes, so people who are not actually bedbound would hopefully be less housebound.

Put rooms in the blocks for communal and co-op activities to reduce isolation - with the lifts and wide corridors, even people who are functionally housebound are likely to be able to make it to a room in their own building, and even quite young children could get to those places safely on their own if their parents are working. Wraparound childcare, paid and informal, near where folks actually live.

City centre areas that are now largely dead other than unhoused people, with limited and decreasing zero economic activity taking place and a decreasing incentive for businesses to set up there rather than in out-of-town retail parks people need to drive to, would become vibrant communities with every incentive for businesses to set up there, particularly for the small businesses that still employ the majority of people.

It wouldn’t take a lot to extend this model to transform those out-of-town business parks that are currently largely empty either; nothing says the businesses that are still there would need to move, and they would have a huge new pool of potential employees living within easily walkable distance, though there would need to be oversight to make sure places like Amazon didn’t attempt to buy them up and turn them into company housing. There would need to be a little more investment to provide green transport links like electric buses and trains so that it would be easier for small businesses to move in to provide services, but given the tax income that would result and the reduction in pollution the investment would probably pay itself back within a decade or so.

[4ce-of-2pades-inkwell]

I had the idea to combine my two current fixations into a Casino Cups + Wicked AU.

Elphaba and Nessa are daughters of the Devil in the most literal sense. (Ironic, considering how religious book Nessa is, and how book Elphaba wrestles with the idea of having faith and a soul.) Elphaba appears human, but is green, as one would expect. You initially assume she’s a plant hybrid, but then you see her fangs that no, she never lost, and her horns almost hidden among her dark hair, and her tail. That’s why people are afraid of her, that and her “father.” The Devil is very clear on the fact that she was more invented than born, and she assumes she is basically just another imp, albeit one that looks closer to human and is treated as an actual daughter. But still, despite the fact that she is loved, she receives far less warmth than she does expectation and responsibility. She is cold and calculating, sturdy and reliable, and serves the purposes asked of her.

Nessa, on the other hand, is the more doted on child, because she is not expected to take on responsibility, and perhaps subconsciously because she shows more of both her parents. Nessa is not a rose, as I had considered, but rather looks like any Devildice fanchild you might pull out of a hat at random, because she is. She’s a black die with golden dots, and a diamond-aligned head with three dots as her face, taking after her aunt. Her name should be some pun on dice, like Nessaroll. I can’t tell if that’s stupid or if it’ll grow on me. Maybe if I find a dice pun for “Nessa” too, or if there’s some general casino term with the word “rose” I could use instead. (Let’s say “Elphaba” means something in Enochian?) At any rate, it goes without saying that Nessa’s still a wheelchair user, but I sort of want to come up with some kind of unique cartoony or demon-ey type of accommodation for her to use instead, because it would be cool. (I’m picturing a backpack with wings or long tentacles or something to lift her off the ground.) Or perhaps I could borrow from the book and have her be armless instead? Anyway, she’s a hit singing at the Devil’s casino. Elphaba is a hit as a hitman perhaps, or maybe she’s learning to manage the finances.

Dice is getting older, and wants to retire soon, and Devil intends to retire right along with him. Ownership of the Casino is expected to pass to Elphaba for a good many decades, and possibly forever if Devil never decides to reclaim it, but when Elphaba does… I don’t know, some plot thing like in the musical… and goes AWOL, it falls to Nessa to take charge. And she takes to it remarkably naturally. Not a year of training, and she’s in charge, fully and completely, writing out soul deals of her own and ruling with an iron fist. If she does, in fact, have fists. I’m still trying to decide.

What it takes Elphaba time to discover, but I will lay out plainly for you for clarity’s sake, is that she’s not just some imp or demon that happened to get raised like a kid. She was created and designed specifically as Devil’s attempt at making an angel. He did have an interest in creating souls, didn’t he? What does an angel look like if it’s born fallen? What sort of manner of being is Elphaba, part of both worlds, belonging fully to neither? The Devil probably created this demonic angel with some kind of Big Scheme in mind, but at some point he realizes that he loves this thing like a kid, and is having a hard time balancing that with his need to use her like a weapon. Unlike Nessa, who he can certifiably call a child and nothing more or less, he doesn’t quite know what Elphaba is to him now, and that’s the source of his coldness and formality with her. If he’s gonna launch her at heaven like a nuclear weapon, he doesn’t want to get too attached.

Part of Elphaba’s estrangement is that she feels like a stepchild because she doesn’t have a connection to Dice. Nessa clearly shows both her parents. Elphaba shows only one, and that’s far offset by the green and her humanlike appearance. “Why did you invent me green though??” “Oh, it just matched your eyes. ;)” Dice has given her more than she realizes. One would never assume one of their fathers is blind because he literally gave his eyeballs to his firstborn. A demon needs demon eyes. Much of Elphaba’s being was formed from and around Dice’s demon eyes, with Devil’s magic (and some bit of holiness he had lying around somewhere). And the things that these demon eyes have seen give Elphaba a wisdom beyond her years through experiences she’ll never be able to consciously know. Also, she always knows when someone is lying. It is very difficult to hide anything from her. This is not an ability she manifests only at certain times, giving her visions of truths and desires, like with Dice, but a skill she uses continuously, one of purely mental intuition.

Glinda is an angel. Quite literally. I don’t have much to say about her story, because I don’t know much. Perhaps she senses someone of a similar nature and finds and befriends Elphaba. Perhaps they meet by chance. But this is the start of Elphaba having actual friends and a life outside the Casino. (Devil is uncertain about this, but Dice encourages him to let Elphaba have her fun. Weapon or no, she’s also a teenager, and Devil knows it.) Perhaps Gelphie becomes canon. I don’t see any reason why it shouldn’t, but frankly I’m too aspec to care, as long as they have a good friendship. The pair’s eventual encountering of the Wizard is, instead, an encounter with some high-level angel, or even maybe God? Probably not God. Maybe Gabriel? Elphaba is powerful, but it’s a strange and unusual power, and Gabriel is intrigued by this unknown being with angel-like abilities that no one can remember giving her. Glinda is very proud of having talent-scouted her friend, and tags along hoping she will be rewarded as well, becoming more than just a minor angel that didn’t even make it into any literature by name. Elphaba is invited to join the heavenly host or something like that. She can become important. Gabriel can teach her and learn from her as well. Or hey, she’s kind of goth, so maybe she’ll want to be trained up as some kind of angel of death like Azrael. And of course Glinda jumps at Gabriel’s now open offer for guidance. They could do this together, Elphaba and Glinda, learning and training under two great angels, finding their purpose, becoming important, etc etc etc… Of course there’s some kind of confrontation wherein Elphaba discovers dark ulterior motives. Which, coming from God, doesn’t bode well. Probably something along the lines of that one thing Devil said about being an experiment and a puppet or something. I don’t know. But Elphaba wants nothing to do with this eerily pristine, fake perfect paradise. She turns away. But Glinda doesn’t intend to fall. Even knowing what she now knows… this is just who she is. So the two good friends officially take their sides on this most legendary struggle between “good” and “evil.” Elphaba now personally understands her father’s struggle, and she’s going to make a nuclear weapon towards heaven out of herself. But she intends to do it on her own terms. So she runs away to study and plan and prepare for… something.

Okay. Other characters.

Fiyero, I think, is some kind of dish or utensil. (I can’t think of a good pun off the top of my head… something with “fork”???) Paralleling him as a prince, this AU’s Fiyero is a descendant of the Calix Animi, but one who knows all the lore… …and acts like he doesn’t care much. It was a bajillion years ago, big deal! He plays it off because, if taken seriously, that’s a lot to live up to. On his own time though, he studies his ancestors with a passion. He was friends with Elphaba before she fell from a heaven she wasn’t part of in the first place, but after Elphaba cuts ties with everyone, she runs into Fiyero again by accident because they’re both researching. Perhaps they encounter each other in the Calix Animi ruins at like 2 AM? Elphaba sticks with Fiyero after this, at first because she tells him about her cause and he decides to turn traitor on his ancestors and help her by sharing his research and knowledge and stuff. But with time… I dunno, maybe they also fall in love? Like I said, I really don’t care.

Boq. Or rather, Bog. I do frequently make reference to the singular time in the book that Elphaba calls him a frog as an insult, but if that’s not enough to convince you, consider how close “Tibbett and Crope” are to “Ribby and Croaks.” Bog is their cousin, distant or close I don’t know. From the start of the AU’s plot, he works as a waiter at their clip joint, but he really wants to do… um, I dunno? Irrigation theory? In the book he studied agriculture, and in the musical all he did was study Galinda every time he could look at her. I do think that considering all the sentient plants on the Inkwell Isles—which I suppose we should be sure to capitalize here as “Plants,” another nod to the lore of the book—there would be a lot more range when it comes to what you might call “agriculture”, or any study of plants and animals. For all I know, we could be talking Plants and Animals instead, and he technically wants to be a doctor or an anthropologist or something. But I digress. He’s got some kind of professional aspirations, and he’s working a lot of shifts at his cousins’ place saving up for a good education. (Cousins plural, because Ribby and Croaks aren’t actually versions of Tibbett and Crope here, because if they were, they’d be a couple, not related, and since I wouldn’t be changing the names at all, that would get… confusing.)

At some point Bog makes friends with Nessa, which as we all know is always the biggest mistake of his life. I dunno if he makes Nessa think he likes her in this AU, because I also dunno if and how he falls in love with Glinda (who probably doesn’t ever have a name change unless I can think of a good reason). He probably does crush on the unattainable angel though, because if we’re playing by musical rules, then it’s an obligation, and it is also an obligation that Bog share some portion of the fault for his fate due to his own bad life choices. However, this fault can come with the signing of a contract. Nessa doesn’t need to be in love this time. What she needs is ruthless business sense. Why shouldn’t she use a friend/acquaintance as the first victim of her own personal soul deals? Much easier to convince that way. Maybe she tricks him. But I think he kind of has to sign his life away as willingly as possible, so our pity for his predicament can be mixed with a fair dose of “you idiot” as it always should be. I don’t know what she offers him that he’s willing to sign his soul away—probably something to do with making Glinda like him, because I don’t think he’s cares quite that much about agriculture—but Bog goes and loses his heart soul to Nessa. And she must like him at least a little, because his deal isn’t one for eternal torment. Instead, he is Nessa’s first “hired” employee at the Devil’s Casino (under new management). He will stay by her side, serving her, forever. And call me silly, but I don’t think this arrangement is going to end up quite like it did with Devil and Dice. (Though that’s the only love story Nessa’s especially familiar with, so perhaps it’s no wonder this was her plan all along to win Bog over. It worked once, right?)

Bog goes from one waiter uniform straight to a slightly different waiter uniform, this one with a little heart on it, and in any color he wants! Fun, right? Totally worth the, y’know, eternity, right? Bog wonders what exactly he got himself into, and desperately hopes he won’t come to regret it any more than he already does, because there is no escaping this.

I’m not sure how everybody would end up meeting and becoming friends. I know there was no big friend group in the musical, but I am tempted to once again borrow a little from the book, because the Charmed Circle gives me life. However, maybe it would make more sense for them to meet by chance, in twos and threes, and have a little web of interactions, and maybe encounter all of each other in the same space a few times, but never really become a group. As always, whichever best serves the mostly nonexistent plot.

I associate Elphaba with Clubs, Glinda with Diamonds, Bog with Hearts (duh), and Fiyero with Spades. (I have no idea what Nessa is, and I kind of don’t want to decide because there are only four suits and it would mess up the balance.) All of this is up for debate.

[hargrove-mayfields]

It’s Disabled Billy and Steve Week

Day 2- Family

My prompt: A family reunion with Billy

Quick content warning, there is discussion of child abuse against a baby and abusive head trauma.

-•-•-•-•-

“Watch out, big bump in the sand.” Argyle warns, in his signature slow drawl.

He’s pushing Billy in his wheelchair, across a beach, heading towards a reunion for Argyle's family, the first since the couple had moved back to California.

The Gaspar family isn’t the biggest, just Argyle's mom, her two sisters, and their kids, the oldest of which have a few babies of their own. It’s still a lot bigger than any family affair of Billy’s, but those became obsolete when Billy was still just a couple of months on this earth.

Everything fell apart around then, the family split into bitter chaos and hatred. See, back then Neil had done something that couldn’t be hidden or ignored. He shook Billy.

All it took was a few seconds, but to this day he’s never regained function of the right half of his body. It’s cerebral palsy, hemiplegic. Along with the paralysis he’s got to worry about seizures and a whole list of cognitive problems, memory loss the most prominent.

Billy’s mom is his full time carer. Now that Max and Will are all grown and leading educations of their own, Ima Joyce can stay home with Billy and help him do all the things he either can’t do anymore, or never learned how to.

Argyle is a big help too, always bringing over giant casserole dishes of food for Billy and his adoptive family, or lifting Billy into the bath. It’s sweet, and fills a void that his childhood had left.

Billy wants to repay some of that with the simple things, tasks he can manage- giving cuddles, trying his specialty pizzas, visiting his family. Still makes him nervous, to be faced with his boyfriend's entire family.

Argyle tells him that’s normal, that he’d been terrified the first time he sat around a table with Max, Jane, and his secondary caregiver, Murray, at the same time, but it seems different. Billy’s terrified of not just making a bad impression, he’s worried about something like having a seizure on the beach in front of Argyle's baby cousins.

And, at the moment, he’s scared of being dumped on his face into the sand because of these bumps Argyle is pushing him over.

“Told you the power chair would’ve been better.”

“I tried my best, dude. It died before I even got it to your room. Like, tires locked, beeping sounds kinda dead, man.” Argyle doesn’t even sound defensive, he just laughs about the absolute train wreck that was their morning.

“Just tell me this thing is close..” Billy keeps complaining, only to be reassured right away by Argyle.

“Right around the corner, blue sky. Just follow the smell of tia Evelyn’s carnitas.”

Another thing that Billy really enjoys doing with his boyfriend is exploring his culture. Argyle hadn’t really been too open about his Mexican roots, since when they met Billy was in the midst of a custody battle between Hargroves and Byers. He said it felt wrong to talk about family when Billy hadn’t really found his own yet.

Now that it’s been a few years, and things are a lot better, Argyle likes to share certain dishes and songs passed down by his family that Billy just loves. It’s his favorite part about living in California instead of Hawkins.

In the same way that Mrs Byers taught her boys to speak the language of their Tanakh, and Billy loves to listen, he loves to hear Argyle and his family speaking Spanish, although he can usually only mentally translate a few words or less.

Argyle's mom is the first to spot them now, calling as they make their slow approach to the perfect spot between the trees, where they’re all set up on a few picnic tables pushed close together, “¡Hola cariños! ¡Finalmente lo lograste y mira, trajiste a tu novio!”

Billy catches that she’s relieved they both made it, but that mostly comes from Argyle's next words, where he restates what she says. That’s they’re tactic, to make sure Billy is never left out.

“Yeah, we’re here mami. Me and my boyfriend. And not just that, but we brought my super delicious world famous brownies!” Argyle sounds excited.

His mom, however, does not. She puts her hands on her hips and raises her eyebrow, “¿Las normales, cariño?”

“Uh, Billy these are plain brownies.. right?” Argyle leans forward, looking at the tray of brownies Billy’s been steadying for him in his lap, a look of sudden worry on his face.

Now Billy’s just confused, but he goes along with it, answering, “Yeah? What else would they be?”

“Well…” Argyle looks sheepish, and Billy realizes just what other kinds of brownies Argyle would be making.

Howling with laughter, he exclaims, “Argyle, you did not!”

Bring pot brownies to a family gathering that is. But by the looks of it…

“It was a mistake, my guy! And uh, I ate the whole tray myself ‘fore anybody else could get messed up.” Argyle defends, face flushed a subtle but deep red, but somehow that just makes it worse.

Accidentally mixing up the trays is one thing, but eating all the evidence? Billy is stumped. Shocked. Almost in awe.

“How?”

Starting to regain a little humor about it, Argyle asks, “How what, sunshine?”

“How are you alive?” Billy clarifies, genuinely curious.

And then there’s another blow to every assumption Billy had made about life ever, in the form of Argyle proudly declaring, “Back in the day, I could eat two trays.”

All Billy can do is stare and look horrified, somewhat unsure if Argyle was joking or not. He’s too bad at social cues to distinguish.

But Argyle moves on, turning back to his mom to explain to her and promise that no, this is not a repeat of last time.

“Si, mami. Sin marihuana esta vez. Prometo.”

“Esto es un alivio. Quiero que te comportes lo mejor posible para tu novio hoy.” She seems to be satisfied with that answer, kissing Argyle's cheek and stepping aside so they can enter the imaginary boundary line of the party space.

Billy’s Spanish skills aren’t good enough to pick anything out this time, leaving him to wonder, “What did she say?”

Argyle shrugs, “Just something about making good impressions.”

That’s confusing. Billy’s actually a little worried he’d imagined last year's picnic while in a hospital fever dream or something. He doesn’t sound very confident as he says, “I’ve met your family though.”

Argyle tells the whole truth now, probably sensing Billy is getting stressed, “Right. She meant me though. That whole tray of hashies fucked me up pretty bad. Mama doesn't want me ruining the party in front of you.”

Billy is understanding, but also, he’s kind of surprised. He didn’t expect her to think Argyle was the problem.

After all, he’s not the one in a wheelchair, who can’t even hold a plate of food for himself, or sit through the whole family party without falling asleep. Maybe it’s leftover fear from being shoved around the house in an uncomfortable hospital lent wheelchair and never let out of the house by his biological family, but Billy is sort of used to being the one people don’t like.

For some reason, maybe because he hasn’t felt this way in a long time, Billy doesn’t hold back in expressing that.

“She’s scared about you ruining it. I’m scared about myself ruining it.”

Argyle shifts the dynamic from standing next to Billy, to crouching in front of him, a gesture that Billy only feels comfortable with when it’s someone he’s really close to. It brings them to an intimate space to talk about this problem neither of them really realized was a thing until now,

“Wait, what? You don’t got nothing to worry about, babes.”

Invited to talk about it, Billy spirals, “What if I get sick or somethin in the middle of everything and we have to go home, and everyone’s upset at me, and-“

“Baby. Mi angel. That’s not gonna happen.” Argyle declares passionately and confidently, holding the hand Billy has feeling in, “They love you. They’ll understand.”

Billy wants so badly to believe it, in spite of whatever irrational part of his brain flared up today, “Promise?”

“From the bottom of my heart, dude.” Argyle promises, impossibly romantic and heartfelt.

Feeling better, and ready to socialize in the way Argyle's family does best- food -Billy smiles, “Could you wheel me to the food table?”

“‘Atta boy!” Argyle kisses his hand, and stands back up to push Billy over. On his way, he calls, “Mami! Pass me a plate?”

“¿Qué dices, mijo?” His mother playfully purses her lips and waits for his answer to her demands about his manners.

“Por favor?” Argyle corrects himself.

The smile she wears is unmistakably full of love and joy for her boy, getting him a paper plate and waving him over, “Of course. Come, come.”

By the end of the day, Billy doesn’t even remember why he was worried. He leaves the beach full of love and good food, and with an invitation to the next one. The little cousins all loved him, one even crawling into his lap to play shark watcher with him.

They accepted him. All of him, abled or not. And one day, when he and Argyle decide they’re ready to take things to the next stage, these folks will be his family too, as William Reuben Ocean Byers-Gaspar.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading! It’s time for todays charity highlight!

This time I’ve chosen The Arc.

The Arc is a US based organization specifically designed to advocate for individuals with intellectual disabilities. Their board protects the civil rights of those with IDD and is working to break down the societal barriers that intellectually and developmentally disabled individuals face.

These include areas like criminal justice, healthcare, employment and education, and travel. The Arc works to provide resources directly to disabled folks so they may advocate for themselves, self-identify issues with language easy for them, access care, and feel safe and protected.

Most importantly, they work directly with disabled individuals to set their standards and align their goals with what disabled people actually want and need. This allows disabled members of their board and staff to be heard, not talked over or told what to do or say.

Fighting against inaccessibility and advocating for the legal and social rights of disabled people is something I’m really passionate about. The Arc is one of my favorite organizations and I’d appreciate if anyone would like to check them out.

So, if you’re interested in supporting The Arc, there are several ways. You can donate money, sign up for their news updates, share your story about programs in your life as a person with IDD, or access and utilize the resources on their site!

For more information or a place to donate (not required of course, I just want to give the option), click here for a link to the site.

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

warning: John wick spoilers, blood, near death, hospitals, mention of surgery

I groaned as I reached out blindly behind me for my phone. Without opening my eyes, I answered the call.

“Hello?” My voice was horse as I rolled onto my back.

“You need to get over here. It’s Marcus.” Johns voice rang out through the phone as I shot up in bed, all traces of sleep gone. “No ambulances. Viggo needs to think he’s dead.” The call cut out and I scrambled to grab my coat and some of marcus’s things. Racing out of my apartment, I ran as fast as I could to his town house. “Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead.” I whispered to myself as I neared his street. It was five minutes since John had called me and all I could do was hope beyond hope that the love of my life hadn’t bled out on his floor. I skidded to a halt as I made it to his door.

looking around the street, I kept my eyes peeled for any men viggo might have left behind. Letting out a small sigh of relief when I didn’t see anyone, I dug my key out of my pocket and unlocked the door. I froze once I walked in and hurried to close the door. Marcus was slumped against his staircase, hand pressed to his chest and eyes closed. I snapped out of my daze when I noticed his shallow breathing. I ran over to him and slid to a stop on my knees next to him.

“Marcus…” I breathed out, putting my hand on his shoulder. He jerked and his eyes opened, blue eyes half closed. “It’s alright. Just me.” I pushed some hair out of his face and took a shuddering breath.

“(Y/N).” He breathed out. He shifted and winced at the movement. “You shouldn’t be here. Viggo…” I shook my head as I dropped the bag of his things next to him and stood up, shedding my coat while I rushed to his kitchen.

“Johns taking care of him.” I said forcefully. “He called me and I came right here.” Marcus groaned and I could only assume he was trying to sit up as I found a bowl and rag. Filling the bowl with water, I hurried back to his side. Gently pushing him back down, I started cleaning some of the blood off him.

“What are you doing?” He breathed out, watching me as he struggled to hang onto consciousness.

“Getting you prepped to get in a cab and to the hospital.” I answered as I threw the rag back in the bowl and tried to get his shirt off without jostling him too much. With a little help from Marcus and a lot of worry from me, I finally got him ready. I helped him up and slung my arm around his waist, slipping to his hips when he hissed in pain. “Alright babe. Cover?”

“Robbery. I came home. Tried to stop them. Got shot and beat.” I nodded as I helped him out of the door. “Took my phone and wallet.”

“I take it they’re hidden?” He nodded and I locked up the town house. “If the police get involved and ask if you know who it is?” Marcus hissed as he missed a step to the sidewalk.

“You slip them a coin.” I nodded and lifted my free arm to hail a cab. One pulled up to the curb and I helped Marcus in before turning to the cabbie. “Nearest hospital. Quickly. And not a word to anyone.” I slipped him a coin and he nodded, taking off through traffic and getting us there in no time. The entire ride I tried to keep Marcus awake. When we reached the hospital, I slipped the cabbie another coin with the money we owed for the trip. I helped Marcus out if the cab and into the emergency room. A nurse instantly came over with a wheelchair and I followed the two, explaining what had happened as Marcus started to slip out of consciousness again. He was wheeled directly into surgery and I was stopped in the waiting room, a hand on my chest and a clipboard being pushed into my hands.

Time lost all meaning and I checked my phone, trying to get in contact with John to see if he was alright. But there was no response. Biting my lip, I did the only thing I could think to do. Stepping out of the hospital, I hit call.

“Hello (Y/N).” I breathed a sigh of relief at the voice on the other end.

“Winston.” I ran a hand through my hair and tried to calm my racing thoughts. “Have you heard from John?” There was shuffling on the other end and a door clicking shut.

“The last I heard from Johnathan was he was looking for iosef.” I sighed again and hit my palm against the brick wall. “Why? Has something happened?” Tears threatened my eyes as all the emotions I’d pushed down in my adrenaline rush came flooding forward.

“John went after viggo.” I breathed out. “With good reason. Viggo went after Marcus.” Winston sighed and I heard the beep that meant I was now on speaker.

“How is Marcus?” I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to stifle a sob. “Take your time dear. In our line of work there’s only so many ways you could have seen him.”

“I know. He’s in surgery right now. Viggo shot him six times. Beat him pretty bad too.” I leaned my head against the wall behind me. “John called me and told he was still alive but barely. I ran over, got him and came straight here. We said it was a robbery gone wrong. Ended up having to give the officer who came a coin so nothing would actually get reported.” Winston sighed on the other end and I heard him writing something down. It was quiet for a little while. “It’s been a long night Winston.”

“I can only imagine.” There was some rustling on the other end. “If you need it, there will always be a room at the continental for the two of you.” I nodded even though he couldn’t see.

“Marcus can’t go back to the town house. And I don’t feel comfortable there anymore.” I thought about just having to go back there just to pack for him. “Once he’s discharged, we’ll head straight over.”

“Don’t be afraid to call (Y/N).” Winston assured me before hanging up. I headed back into the waiting room and there was a doctor in scrubs looking around. He spotted me and walked over.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” He asked. I nodded. “Your partner is doing well. He just got out of surgery.” I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank goodness.” I sighed, a wave of exhaustion hitting me.

“We’re going to keep him here overnight just to be sure but you did the right thing getting him here so quickly.” I nodded.

“We took a cab. Figured it would be quicker.” He nodded and started to lead me back to where Marcus was.

“That was smart. By the time the ambulance got here, it might have been too late.” My throat closed up a little and the doctor opened a door, ushering me in. “Here he is. He’s on some serious pain meds right now so he might be a bit out of it. We’ve waived visiting hours so you can stay with him.” I nodded in thanks and entered the room. Sitting down in the chair next to him, I reached for his hand. I squeezed it before settling back in the chair. I was starting to drift off before he squeezed my hand back.

“(Y/N)?” He whispered. I scrambled to sit next to him on the bed.

“Right here Marcus.” I wiped the tears away as they spilled over. He slowly opened his eyes.

“Hey. Hey. No don’t do that.” His other hand moved to wipe them away before he realized he was plugged into a bunch of machines. Sighing he put his hand back down. “You did good.” He used his hand holding mine to tug me gently into his side. I pressed my face to his shoulder and let out the emotions I’d been holding in. Marcus let go of my hand and gently stroked my hair. “I’m alright. You did good.” I nodded against him and slowly calmed down. “Have you heard from john?” I pulled away and shook my head.

“Winston hasn’t heard either.” Marcus nodded and waved his hand.

“John can take care of himself. I’m just worried about facing viggo again.” I gave him a tight smile.

“John went to take care of viggo. I don’t think he’ll be a problem again.” Marcus chuckled dryly and I settled down against him again.

“Good. When do I get out of here?” I chuckled.

“tomorrow as long as you do well overnight.” He nodded and ran his fingers through my hair. “And until we can figure out what we’re doing, we are staying at the continental.” Marcus nodded again and kissed my forehead.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He agreed.

[thecircusfreaks]

|| @suizokukans liked for a starter ||

|| Gai & Solara ||

"Don't worry Solara, it's not that big a deal." He had already lifted her out of the wheelchair and carried her over the sand to where he had put down some towels for them to sit on. The small beach was rather nicely hidden away. He and his younger sister would come here to swim often, it also had a nice view for him and Solara to enjoy. Putting up a beach umbrella as well to keep them safe from the sun.

"See, your wheelchair is in sight for us and out of sight for people passing by and to be real, that will be very few. Just relax and enjoy our little beach outing." He assured her while opening the coolbox. "Drink?"

[mourningcandles]

Moth-Winged

For @fallenlondonficswap's secret-swap, a much-delayed but much-loved story for @the-dye-stained-socialite. I hope you enjoy.

For the first Hallowmas in many, the Pavillion of Butterflies has not appeared in that quiet park in Elderwick. As the festivities end, Elias Leroux reminisces on a Hallowmas past and a chance meeting within the mirror-bright walls of a glasshouse long-gone.

Rated T . No warnings apply. Gen. POV second person. 1,295 words.

The garlands are unwound from the spokes of your wheelchair. The silk scarf which obscured its heart-shaped back is tucked away in your wardrobe once more, saved for another evening. And your mask… that you wrap in white crepe paper and tuck away for another year. It may not last, for masks are fragile things, but you try all the same.

This year was the first in some years that you have not worn the mask of the moth to the revels. That was the visage you wore on your first Hallowmas, that year when you were thrown headlong into the strange world beneath the one you once knew. There was something about Hallowmas drew you in: the strange new lovers and the old ones in disguise, the wild laughter, the world opened up to you so unexpectedly. Perhaps, hidden behind that mask of gant wings, you became one with the shadows, safe from the tricks and troubles of the season. The horrors passed you by and the wonders, oh what wonders, were yours to see.

Yes, that was how it had been, in a Hallowmas long-gone.

You were younger then, though not by much. You had seen less, won less, and your beloved first wheelchair was still in one piece. A less finely carved piece, but you couldn’t complain. You had been more accustomed to how it handled than your new one, making you a marginally better dancer. There would be dancing. There would be debauchery. There would be a little bit of everything, if one knew where to look.

The Blue-Eyed Moth led you north to Elderwick, where the socialites flocked for salons with the celebrated few. There, the Pavilion of Butterflies shimmered before you. Candlelight flickered off silver plates, leading moths big and small in a dizzy dance about the maze of Surface foliage which suffused the glasshouse. High above it all, upon her throne of wings, sat the Queen of Air and Darkness. She was your hostess, in a way. You ought to greet her. If only you could find the lift up to the balcony, if such a thing existed at all.

The glasshouse was a labyrinth. While the candles illuminated, the view through the throng was obscured by coiled fronds of ferns, clouds of pollen, spores, and mist from pipes far above. The vibrant colors of Surface blooms and silks dizzied the mind, such that you could only make sense of the scene before you by taking it in one segment at a time. To one side were the walkways through the foliage, where masked faces appeared and disappeared in the blink of an eye. Nearby were attendants handing out drinks and pamphlets. Maps, perhaps? Beyond that, a small group seemed to walk hand-in-hand upon the air. A chorus of laughter erupted as one startled upon catching a glimpse of the Masque far below the floor of glass and steel.

There: A maze of ramps arced upwards, each one framing the balcony below like the whiplash lines about an art nouveau fashion plate. They say that the Pavilion represents the Neath, that every facet of London is reflected within its panes. You could see it before you. Each landing held a shadow box view of high society: A handsome couple, arms outstretched to receive kisses from admirers and champagne from attendants. Above, gossiping amid mirrors, stood a set of society youths in masks of mauvine, fuchsine, aldehyde green, bright aniline dyes to burn the eyes. At the highest point, just below the arched glass roof, sat the Queen of Air and Darkness. Moth-masked courtiers raised their cups to her, content to bask in her glory. Upwards you climbed, taking the steep, steady path towards the Queen’s shimmering court.

It was not long before you found yourself lost. While it had seemed simple from below, more balconies seemed to appear where none should have been. It was upon one of these that you met a travelling companion. He was a Well-Attired Tomb-Colonist, his bandaged face glancing between a pamphlet and the dizzying view below.

When he caught you staring, he smiled, nothing but a slight shifting of the wrappings which hid him from view. “I’m hunting butterflies,” he said by way of explanation. With unsteady hands, he passed you the paper.

To your great delight, it was a guidebook on the butterflies and moths of the Pavilion.

“I was given binoculars,” he said, gesturing to the set tucked in his dinner jacket, “but my eyes aren’t quite what they used to be. With or without, I can’t seem to see a thing unless it’s right in front of me. I suppose you might make better use of these things.”

You took the binoculars and offered him the pamphlet. “I believe we might be able to help one another. If you consult the guidebook while I keep an eye on the moths, we might be able to identify these species more accurately than we would alone. Don’t you agree?”

The Well-Attired Tomb-Colonist reached out and accepted the guidebook with a bow. “I would be delighted.”

Together you sighted a vast array of winged insects, as well as spotting some which were suspiciously absent from the guidebook your host had provided. They were of a scarlet deeper than anything you had ever seen.

“I suppose it was the mystery which drew me here tonight,” you remarked. “The illusions played upon the eye and the secrets they hide… Every photographer knows how to alter an image after it’s taken. Only a magician can create such illusions in the moment. And you?”

The Tomb-Colonist gave a noncommittal gesture. “The Saint Elmo doesn’t call to me,” the dead man said. “I shall not die my last death in some dockside brawl. No, I shall be amid the moths.”

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

He gave no reply, only followed your gaze to where a pale moth alighted upon his arm and sighed. Behind his mask, he closed his eyes with the weariness of a life long-lived. “The Queen awaits. Will you come with me?”

You had gone with him to the highest point of the glasshouse. You had seen the Queen of Air and Darkness, her mask white-winged and covered in eyes greener than green. And what had you seen next? Secrets to make the mind reel, absinthe to make vision blur, and dancing to send your heart soaring. And… modern art?

When you returned to your lodgings that night, you found that the skirts of your gown had been stained red where your hands had brushed them. You fretted none, as there is no stain a chemist cannot remove if given the time. The rest of the night had been spent amid the tools of your work, your fine silk skirt rustling softly in your hands. It had taken pepsin of all things to remove the stain. Lukewarm soap did nothing, neither did ammonia or benzine. It was not wine, nor ink, nor paint. It had been blood.

A fleck of it remains on the yellowing guidebook to the moths of a glasshouse long-gone. Perhaps there was something you had taken for granted about Hallowmas: It is one of the few times of the year during which you were not the only one who wears a mask. For every thing discovered, there is another hidden. For every illusion, there is a trick and a truth. Perhaps someday you shall find it. Or perhaps, before those wings of gant, what you seek shall always fade away right before you can truly see it. Either way, there will always be dancing, debauchery, and you, right in the middle of it all. With that pleasant thought, you close the box, setting it aside until Hallowmas calls once more.

[reviviscencegruiform]

Can we get a peak at Crane's future?

//I'll do you one better than that.//

>> It has been a long night.

>> *It has been a long week.

>> Every day more and more perfectly normal, perfectly law abiding citizens have joined the dance. Lighting massive bonfires. Leaving bowls of candy and small plastic toys on street corner alters. The entire city was decorated for the upcoming holiday in the hopes it would stave off or maybe join the coming madness.

>> You couldn't tell anymore.

>> It is the Eve of Halloween.

>> You had to fight your way through costumed crowds running races without an endpoint. Pointless circles for a mad doctor's entertainment until they passed out on the ground or threw up.

>> There were more nonsense games this year. More than you could count. All run by cultists in black robes. This year there were dunking stands in the cul-de-sacs where the apples were infused with an antidote for a poison that may or may not come.

>> It all depended on you.

>> You failed before and you will not fail again, but you told yourself that last year and had failed.

>> You have failed over and over and half the time you didn't even realize you were failing until it was too late.

>> Did anyone believe you would save them this year?

>> Did you?

>> You have fought your way through frothing waves of the Cult of the Crow to the top of Wayne Tower. Their "God's" alter.

>> It was his favorite perch. He picked it specifically to taunt you.

>> It worked every time.

--At the top, in the office that was once yours, you watch as the cult's god is lifted from his beat up wheelchair by two young men who did not wear robes. Instead, the shorter more lithe of the two wears blue and the taller far more bulky one wears red. They are both wearing masks, you can not see their faces, but you know their faces.

You know them painfully well. They haunt your every waking dream and deepest nightmare.

The god lets out a pained series of sharp gasps after being placed in his throne, what was your office chair. Your father's chair and your grandfather's chair before him. You had done this to him long before he ever even considered this very specific show of disrespect to you and your family name.

"Deep breaths, old man." Said the biggest, one of few allowed to speak to him that way. "You didn't take your medicine, did you?" Asks someone who's voice is distorted in a suit of black armor. The god hisses at them both and waves them off. The suit of armor tsks, but moves to stand by his side. The man in red just laughs and does the same. The one in blue is quick to offer the now shaking god a bottle of pills. They are taken with a mumbled thank you and eaten more like candy than bitter medicine, a black latex covered hand shoved up under a gas mask followed by sickening crunches. There is something wrong with the god's hidden face.

There is a fourth who does not move or speak. It was once a young girl, but now it's a monster dressed up like a cowboy. It glares at you. It hates you. You can tell it wants to say something by the way it's huffing and puffing from it's maw.--

>> Let the man catch his breath.

>> Who of the four do you address first?

[aelfgiure]

"Doc? What's- " you start to ask, keeping your voice soft, but the doctor shakes his head sharply and flicks his eyes to the door.

He pulls out his wallet, takes all the cash, and presses it into your hands, his own trembling so hard you're genuinely concerned for him. "Take this, ditch your phone, and run." he murmurs. "You're an.. an anomaly. I can't buy you much time but you need to go. NOW."

Oh fuck.

Anomaly. Different enough to be considered not-human, dangerous. The lab has probably sent the results to the authorities already, your life as a free person could be measured in minutes, your lifespan in months - if they decide to experiment on you before they dispose of you.

That thought galvanizes you into frantic, yet shaky, action. You're off the exam table, tossing on your clothes, chucking your phone into the laundry hamper as you work out how the hell you're going to escape from the clinic, get past the people in the waiting room before the Reapers show up to take your outwardly drab ass into custody.

Oh. There's a thought.

You slip out into the hallway and head for the staff bathroom. Yes, they have a scrubs dispenser, thanks be to Aesclepius and Hygeia! You entered the bathroom as a typical patient.

You leave looking very different.

Scrubs instead of sweats and a t-shirt. Your hair is up in a tidy bun instead of hanging loose. Your glasses are hidden away. You've put on makeup. Subtle, but a dramatic change in appearance, and you add the brusque demeanor of a busy physician to sell the look. With the addition of the lab coat and a stethoscope around your neck, you blend in.

Outwardly calm, you head down the hallway, trying to move with purpose. You stop at a desk to let a tech wheel a patient pass and see the fire alarm pull. Oh, that'll work perfectly. You let your awareness flow along the fire suppression system, finding just the right junctions and then pulse a single blip of energy.

Chaos ensues.

"Doctor Red, this is a page for Doctor Red! All staff, Doctor Red!"

The p.a. system bleats the message while the alarms go off. You swear out loud, turning to the closest nurse. "Ma'am, I'm across the building from my unit, can I help you get the patients out?"

The look of gratitude makes you feel a little guilty. "Thank you, doctor, yes! Can you take room 24 outside, she's in a wheelchair."

"On it!"

The older lady in 24 looks amused. "Pity I didn't bring marshmallows," she quips, and you laugh.

Pushing her along, you follow the staff outside the clinic and make sure she's parked by the frazzled unit clerk. "I need to go let the team know I'm alive," you explain as you leave, and he waves you off while he tries to take roll call of staff and patients.

The Reapers are standing by the main entrance. You keep your distance, making your way through the crowd like you know where you're going. When the fire department shows up, it adds another layer of noise and chaos between you and the grey uniformed people, so you take advantage of it to ditch the lab coat before boarding the student shuttle. When it lifts, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and slump back.

Once you're on campus, you'll have more options. For right now, though, you're away from the immediate threat, and that has to count for something. You can only hope that you can stay ahead of the Reaper squads long enough to find a sanctuary, somewhere.

The doctor looks at the test results, then back to you, and starts to shake. After a long silence, the only thing you’re told is a nervous,“You need to leave, right now.”