#Tw anaphylactic

[fnafagainstmodernfnaf]

You can stop repressing your thoughts about Roxy now, we get it

-👶

You personally disgust me, baby emoji anon. How dare you imply I love anyone other than my beloved super hot and sexy girlfriend (that I have). The thoughts that you have born from your mouthhole that now transcend to my mind through my mobile phone on tumblr dot com are revolting. I am violently throwing up and seizing (because I also have epilepsy) at the thought of even being ASSOCIATED with a fictional character so terrible. You’re lucky that you’re anonymous, baby emoji anon, because if you weren’t me and my super hot girlfriend (that I have) would find you.

-Mod Freddy Fazbear 🎩

[emotional-moss]

i was just in the ER for anaphylactic shock (sucks) and im traveling w my mom and grandparents (also sucks) but it was partially hilarious cause there i was in a hospital bed with an iv thingy on me coughing and itching furiously and my mom is hovering over me taking pictures “for the memories” 😭???

[georgiapeach30513]

Two Good Reasons, Part 9

Summary: the one with Audrey's birthday

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: mature and emotional

Warnings:  Scott Huffman, language, depictions of anaphylactic shock, mentions of divorce, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 7.7K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Ugh,” you groan, tossing another pair of pants on the bed before stomping into the closet. Frustratingly roaming through your clothes. You’re pissed off. No, you’re in a very irritable mood because things have already not gone your way.

First thing this morning it was Scott asking for you to pick the kids up an hour earlier. Which is fine, but he could have said something last night. Hell, he could have just brought them by the house and let them stay here, so you could have a lazy day with them. In their home. Comfortable. But no! He wanted to be a difficult little bitch.

And then it was the sudden urge to pee. And pee again, but that time almost not making it. Then you burned the bacon and now your house smells like shit. And then! Then your newly painted fingernails — one broke. You just wanted a lazy good morning. And Now too many pants are not buttoning. And you’re frustrated, irritable, and in a not great mood.

Happiness is making you gain weight, and you really didn’t want to buy more clothes. But you wanted to remain happy. And in love. And, “What are you looking at?” Your words come out a bit harsher than you intended, and you regret the tone immediately, “I’m sorry.”

“Doe, what’s wrong?” You point over towards the bed, and Andy gives it an odd look. “You’re getting rid of some very nice jeans?”

“No,” you frown as you just reach for some fucking leggings. You weren’t going to try on and fail to button another pair. Not in front of Mr. Perfect Body. Good lord, his body is magnificent. Especially when it’s moving inside yours. You hadn’t gained that much weight. You’re probably just bloated. It’s all water weight. “We’re eating out too much.”

“Once a week?”

“We’re — we’re just — ugh! When I’m happy I tend to cook and bake more, and the result is the jeans not being able to button. So starting today, I’m not going to be snacking as much. And no matter what you say, I won’t be getting one more bite of cake,” that is that. Little changes could make the biggest difference.

“I don’t think…”

“Andy Barber, I know I’m getting older, and my metabolism isn't as quick as it used to be, so I don’t need to hear your excuses,” you bend over to roll the leggings up your legs. It’s fine. You feel fine. You didn’t even care because Andy didn’t seem to mind, and you are so very happy. Leggings and an oversized sweatshirt sound like heaven on a day like today.

“That’s not what I was going to say. I just think you should…”

“We’re going to add some more volume foods. I’ve just got to stop with the extra slice of bread,” he shakes his head no as he smiles and walks towards you, “And I’m going to quit napping so much. I want us to go on a walk every day with the kids. We can take the stroller if they get tired. But I need more movement in my life. If you can go swimming every morning, then I can walk every evening, but I don’t want to walk alone.”

“Honey,” Andy holds his hand over your mouth, using his piercing blue eyes to stare at you in the most intense way that it almost makes you uncomfortable. “Can I speak?” you nod your head once, and Andy exhales slowly, “Will you take a pregnancy test for me?”

You shake your head while rolling your eyes, “Why?” His hand drops off your mouth, and you try and find the words to tell him it's just an impossibility, and not what either of you should be thinking about right now. You need a house to make a home. You wanted out of this house, and divorced before ever truly thinking about pregnancy. At least when you’re not in the moment of getting your back blown out. Andy had that ability. He starts fucking into you, and you want him him to fuck a baby in you.

“Because the likelihood of me ever carrying a child naturally is very slim to none and we’re just not ready for that.”

“Why not?” How is he so good? He’s not even arguing. He is having a conversation, and trying to understand.

“Because I’m still legally Mrs. Scott Huffman,” you retch. Why did you ever marry that buffoon? The only good thing he ever did for you was give you the most beautiful children. “And I want our own home.”

“And I have watched my cum leak out of you before I’m fingering back inside of you. It’s not a lack of trying. And look at the pants,” your eyes flare as you stare at him. “I’m just saying, what if you’re pregnant?”

“I’m not. I’ve had two kids already, I would know,” he nods his head, figuring that you are right because you were the expert in this situation. “And I just,” could your mood swings be pregnancy? You haven’t had a proper period since splitting with Scott. Stress always makes your cycle wonky. “No. Okay, I’m just not. It’s fine. I want to drink more water, I want to walk as a family, I want to change my diet, and I’ll be just fine, okay?”

“Honey, you’re right,” you gawk at him. Did he just admit to knowing you’ve gained weight? “I would like to start walking as a family, too. We always talk with the kids when we get home anyways, so why not talk and walk.”

“Good save, Andrew.”

“Wasn’t trying to save anything, Doe. I’m being honest,” you’re sure he was just trying to ease you off a ledge of emotions that you weren’t ready to dive into. You’re trying to keep your head above the water until the divorce. Until the custody hearing, and you know that you get more time with the kids than Scott does. You want them with you. Scott wants them with him as leverage. Sick bastard.

“Mama!” Suede rushes to your arms as you walk into the apartment. The apartment that isn’t baby proof at all since Taylor moved in. Ooh, you wonder how many times she’s had to tell Suede no, or hands off. Aesthetically everything here is very pleasing, and all of her Instagram followers agree. So much white. Perfect color for a toddler around.

Suede clings to your body, burying his face in your chest. He isn't scared, but you know the separation from you just sets him on edge. This divorce is causing so much unnecessary mental trauma for your children. But staying with Scott would have caused more. In order to have happy children, you need to be happy, “Did you guys have fun? Oh.”

Taylor finally makes her way into the living room with a giant box of Christmas decorations. You know because the box is very aptly labeled as such in the most perfect script writing. Ms. Perfect probably did that herself. “Where’s the cat?”

She shoots you an aggravated look as she opens the box. Scott sits on the couch rolling his eyes, but remains glued to whatever game is on television. Audrey’s bathroom break is taking a bit longer than usual. “She is at my mom’s since Suede has a little issue with her,” the stupid bitch rolls her eyes again, and you’re biting your tongue to remain centered and calm. Pickups and drop offs have started to upset your daughter’s stomach, so you remain cordial for her.

“Yeah, it sucks that cat dander just really makes breathing difficult for him,” he looks towards the box, and oohs at the ornaments that Taylor pulls out of there. Little boys always want things they shouldn’t have, and telling them no makes them want it more. She’s a fucking idiot.

“No!” Not only do you take a step back, and hold Suede tighter, but you also make the most annoyed face in the world, Andy steps in front of you. His natural role of protector queuing up, “No, I told you that you don’t touch my things,” you shoot a glance towards Scott, wondering if he really thought that ‘her things’ were appropriate around your kids. Scott can fuck off. They weren’t his kids. They were a product of his sperm.

“I have had to deal with him all weekend. I tried decorating their room, and he just wants to help, and he puts the ornaments in the wrong space. And I went in there, and he messed it up again.”

“Well, he is two,” you shrug. You take back every nice thing you ever said about Taylor, she’s a bitch, and number two on your eat shit list. “The tree in their playroom at home was there for them to mess up, or hide the ornaments as they pleased. They’re kids. Nothing is perfect with them around.”

“Yeah, and it looks like shit,” her voice is clipped, and you wonder if she’s ever used that tone with your sweet boy. Over something stupid, and it wasn’t perfect for her.

“Taylor, enough,” she huffs before spinning on her heels and stomping out of the room. You’ve seen your daughter do that a few times, and she’s almost five. “God, you see what you did. She’s been fighting with Suede all weekend.”

“Fighting with a two year old?” Andy asks before you can even respond. That was a perfect response. He’s just as protective of them as he is of you.

“She’s trying to make things look nice for the holidays. It’s a nice change compared to your need to wait until after Thanksgiving,” deep breath in. Deep breath out. You will kill him one day. “And don’t make a big deal out of this. Suede had a good time, didn’t you, buddy?” Suede shrugs, and keeps his face buried in your chest. But his hand slowly moves up to your cheek where his cute little hand starts to pet you. A slow and painful death will take Scott out of this world.

“I really don’t want a fight. But I do need to tell you that we’re taking the kids to Michigan for Thanksgiving,” that’s one way to tell him.

“Over my dead body. You don’t get to tell me where you’re taking them. I have to approve. Suede can’t handle a flight. How are you going to keep him occupied?” Suede can’t handle a flight. What would he even know what Suede could handle?

“My parents haven’t seen their grandchildren in a year. They miss them, and the kids miss them.”

Scott gives you an eat shit grin. You’re glad that Andy lets you deal with him as much as possible, choosing the best possible time to jump in, “Like he even remembers your parents,” a very slow and painful death.

You laugh, “They FaceTime the kids every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday. Buddy, you want to go get your backpack? Make sure your iPad is in there, okay?”

“Chess,” he walks wide, staying out of his father’s grasp, but of course Scott doesn’t see that. Doesn’t see the odd quirks Suede has in order to avoid him.

“The damn iPads. Why are you spending so much money on them? That’s not what my support is for,” what is the best way to get away with murder?

“It was actually my assistant district attorney that bought those for them. Ransom is quite fond of the kids, and I’m sure it’ll help Audi practice her courtroom homework.”

Scott blinks slowly twice, and you step in front of Andy only for him to cross back in front of you, “Do you have a problem with how I raise my daughter? Mine. I had to fuck her mom for her. That’s right, I fucked your girlfriend. They will never be yours.”

“Mommy?” Everyone turns towards Audrey. Her tears shimmer in the light as she looks only at you. Her lip quivers a moment, and you know you have just a few seconds to get her out of the audience of others before she starts to cry uncontrollably, “Mommy, my belly doesn’t feel good.”

“Come on, baby. Let’s get yours and Suedey’s things and go home,” Scott starts to say something, and you point your finger at him, shaking your head, “That’s enough,” and he doesn’t want to, but he keeps his fucking mouth shut.

“I’m getting a bit tired of you, Barber,” Andy cocks an eyebrow up. He isn’t going to say a word. You asked him not to when you left with Audrey and Suede. “She is a goddamn genius, and she needs to start now! She’s got an interview with the best school in the district, and I need her prepared.”

“They don’t usually test kindergarteners on how many people are in the jury box, Scotty.”

“You really are a prick, you know that?” Andy shrugs, keeping his sight more down the hall where the kids’ room was. If he looks at Scott, the control he’s proud to keep in check will diminish, and he won’t do anything to jeopardize your custody, “Just remember who…”

“I got it, your sperm made the kids. You won’t ever let me live that one down, and I’m man enough to not let it bother me. But can I give you some advice?”

“Parental advice from someone who isn’t a parent. This should be excellent,” Andy wonders what you ever saw in this tiny little man. Surely he wasn’t always this much of an asshole.

Scott leans back, and smiles up at Andy. Andy never turns his attention to Scott. He just wants to see you emerge from the hall with the kids, “I may not be the reason those kids are here, but I pay attention. I know that Audi gets an upset stomach when she knows that you and her mom are going to be around each other. She’s internalizing her anxiety. I know that Suede when he sees his mom he just wants to hold onto her, and he doesn’t even want to look at you. Doesn’t care much to spend any time with me when they reunite, it’s all about his mom. You may not be physically harming your kids, but the mental distraught you’re causing them will have lasting effects. Your soon to be ex-wife is being too kind to you, and only because she thinks that it will make the transition with her kids easier. I think both you and Taylor know that. I think Taylor’s care for those kids is dwindling. She’s becoming what she should be, a kid that is solely focused on herself. She’s using your money to give her some sort of fulfillment. She plays the role of a good step mom only to her instagram followers, and to her parents, but deep down they resent you because you have children, you're legally still married, and you’re so older than her.”

“Get out of my fucking house.”

Andy slowly blinks, and nods, “That’s my goal,” ignoring Scott, he heads down the hallway. He gives Audrey the biggest smile before the little girl rushes into his arms. “You ready to go, mademoiselle?”

“Yes,” looking at her mom, she giggles. “Are you?”

“I am,” picking up Suede, you follow Andy out of the bedroom, and Scott clears his throat. You just want to get back home, so you can cuddle and love on your babies. It looks like they need extra attention.

“I want to speak to her privately,” Andy slightly shakes his head no, but you hand Suede over to him. And wait until the door to the apartment closes before you cross your arms, and jut your hip out, “I don’t want your boyfriend back here.”

“You don’t get to make those calls. Is that all?”

“You’re making a mistake,” of all the stupid nonsensical things he could say. “I am trying to be kind to you.”

“Kind? What about you is trying to be kind? Saying that I won’t lose my baby weight? Saying I’m used up, and old? Maybe it’s the cruelty you show our children? Or maybe it’s because our court hearing is soon, and you’re scared shitless? I bet that’s what it is,” of course it’s what it is. After the hearing he knows that he won’t be able to hold things over your head. In fact, he probably knows how much you have against him, and his precious Taylor.

“You let him raise our children,” you scoff. He really didn’t want to go there with you. Of course Andy is raising the kids, but he’s doing so with you as his partner. Just how it’s intended to be, “I don’t know what it is you want me to do.”

“I don’t know what it is you want me to do. Andy is a good man. Andy is present in my kids’ lives. He comes home to us every night. He helps around the house, he spends time with them, he is a good role model. And he’s a great man. What is your deal with Andy?”

“He’s a cocky asshole,” Scott had no room to talk. Andy was confident. Scott was arrogant.

“I figured the two of you would get along then,” he rolls his eyes, starting to stand up and walk towards the kitchen. “Is the real problem that I moved on?”

“I thought you would always be there for me,” he’s joking. This fool is seriously joking. How does one move on from seeing the babysitter bounce on top of your husband’s cock, and one you didn’t even particularly like? “Did you think I actually wanted to be here in this small apartment away from my family? I made a mistake, and you won’t give me any time to plead for forgiveness. You moved on to the fucking DA. You knew what you were doing, and it was just to piss me off. We were going to — I’m pissed off because I thought we would eventually work things out,” you hear a bedroom door slam shut before Taylor stomps out of the apartment, and slams the front door. “See what you did?”

“This has been an exhilarating conversation, Scott. But you did that. I had no intentions of getting back with you, nor you me. If you could admit that you did what you did because you thought you would get away with it, and you thought we’d get back together, and you could have your perfect family, while fucking the perfect body, we’d be better off. I don’t want you. I think it’s been many years since I have wanted you. And that is the only thing I’ll ever apologize to you for. I hung on for too long for our kids, but the man that I have always wanted, I now have. Send us the details to Audi’s party, and go fix your girlfriend if you want to keep her.”

“Can you stop calling her that?” You furrow your brows, not fully understanding what he was getting at. “Her name is Audrey. Suede’s name is Suede. Not Suedey, not buddy. Quit babying them,” okay. You need to leave before you say something you truly regret. He wasn’t going to tell you what you should or should not call your children. “I don’t want them to be in Michigan for the holiday.”

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” he obviously had something planned with them if he didn’t want you and Andy to take them to see your parents.

Scott looks in the distance, refusing to answer, mumbling something before, “I’m taking Taylor to Cancun,” he’s serious. He wants you to stay here while he takes his trophy girlfriend to Cancun. You hope all the men there can’t stop staring at Taylor who is always seeking validation from other men. You hope Scott feels as little as he makes you feel.

“And we’re going back to my parents’, Scott. Have a good day,” he can groan and complain all he wants to. If he can take his pretty little girlfriend on vacation, you’re going back to Michigan, and spending time with your family. You would almost have reconsidered, if he was going to be here. If he wanted to spend time with the kids, you would have stayed behind. He wasn’t going to bully you. He wasn’t going to tell you what your kids could do, or what Suede was capable of.

You’ll give him a backpack with plenty of snacks and toys, and Scott Huffman could fuck off. You’re not sure what has come over you concerning him, but you’re done. You don’t care about his feelings or Taylor’s. You don’t care to make sure if they’re comfortable. You just didn’t care.

You huff as you get into the car, and bend your hand backwards for Audrey to hold. Andy doesn’t say anything, he just puts the car into drive. You let your mind wander a bit. Not even about Scott, you didn’t care anymore. You wander to a moment when you, Andy, and your kids didn’t have to deal with that anymore. A moment where you will wake up and everyone you love is under the same roof always. It may be a dream in the future, but you have no doubt that eventually Scott will give you full custody. He truly was using your babies as leverage, and that pisses you off more than the fact he thought shoving his cock in some young whore could ever be forgivable.

But with a gentle squeeze from Audrey, you remember that all the pain of seeing him with Taylor was worth it. You don’t care how long he was sleeping with Taylor. You don’t care if he had any feelings for her then or even now. The only thing you remotely cared about is if your children saw them being romantic in any capacity. Scott and Taylor could eat rocks for all you cared. You just hope your children never saw them fucking.

Your mind focuses on the road in front of you, and you look over to Andy confused. “Where are we going? This isn’t the way home,” this is the complete opposite of home, and Andy’s smile guarantees he’s up to something. “Andy!”

Audrey giggles in the background. Her chubby little hand removes from yours, and she covers her mouth, while Suede grabs both his now shoeless feet as he smiles at you, “Ho, NaNa.”

“Did my baby just call you a ho, Andy Barber?”

“No,” the speed of the car gets slower as he turns onto a small road. “He said, home,” your heart beats rapidly as you see a beautiful house come into view, surrounded by so much land. All this space, and you gasp as you look at him. “Well, we all have to agree,” Andy puts the car into park. Holding up his hand, he lets a single key on a key ring dangle from his finger. “Shall we go look at it?”

Your mouth spreads into the widest grin as you nod your head. Jumping out of the car to get Audrey out of her seat, and Andy grabs Suede. Holding onto your shoeless monster, while everyone runs to the front door squealing. “It’s a bit large. But Linda Drysdale found it. It’s not officially been listed, but the asking price is just too good. There is enough for Suede and Audrey to have their own room, and then — some. Full size and finished basement for a play area, and,” opening up the door he sets Suede down, and both kids dart past you screaming as they run through a mostly empty house. “The master bedroom is phenomenal. There’s a great pantry. Garage. We’d be secluded, so the kids can have space to play and have swings.”

He keeps talking, but you’re just taking everything in. It’s perfect. Right down to the color scheme. It’s almost textbook the house that you and Andy talked about getting when you were silly kids in love looking through Pinterest. The space. The way that your kids are just giggling and laughing. The way that this actually feels like home. More of a home than whatever you and Scott attempted to make.

“Doe?” You spin around to face Andy, but he’s lower on the floor. Audrey leans up against him, while Suede is standing in between his arms, and your ring up in Andy’s hand. It wasn’t just a normal ring. It was the ring. The one that you and him jokingly went shopping for when he was eighteen and you were seventeen. A ring you knew he could never afford, but it was fun to pretend. It still was the perfect ring, and even prettier than you remembered.

“Honey, will you marry me?”

“Chess, mama!”

“Mommy, say yes! Andy asked for permission.”

Oh god. He asked your babies for their permission. This ridiculous man remembered everything. All of it. He is too perfect with your babies surrounding him. Letting them be just as much a part of this proposal as him. Because they are always in the equation. He thought of everything. “Mommy!”

“Yes. Yes!” You drop down to your knees with him. Crowding Suede and Audrey as you try to find his lips. Sealing everything with a kiss. “Give me two good reasons.”

“I can start with three,” Andy whispers against your lips. “Audrey, Suede, and you,” he’s too precious for words. Sometimes it isn’t about the time lost that made the difference, it’s the time now. You spent too many years trying to recreate Andy. But in those years away from him you both did some growing up. But the thing that remained was a true undying love for this man, and your family.

“Mama, we ho!”

“Yes, buddy. We’re home,” you can’t even see properly with the tears that cloud your eyes. First a home. A place to set down your roots. Your forever home with Andy. And then what he’s promised since you were seventeen. That he was going to marry you.

“Mommy! I want the bedroom with the princess window.”

“Me, too. Me oom!” Both kids spring towards the stairs again.

“Don’t run, guys,” Andy says calmly, and they immediately walk instead. They listen to him so well, “Shall we check out the rooms they picked out?”

“Andy, this is too much.”

“No, it’s priced to sell. Linda got us a great deal, and your name will be on the deed as well. If you love this house as much as me and the kids, it’s ours. What do you say?”

You look down to your left hand smiling. It was a stupid morning made right with the most perfect thing you could think of. “Let’s check out our new home,” you answer. Pulling at your fiancé’s arm as you walk towards the stairs. “What about the inspection?”

“Everything is perfect. There’s a little bit more that needs to be done in the basement. But other than that, it’s fully functional. Wires, plumbing, electricity, they all are perfect. After you, my love. I think Audrey and Suede have found their rooms. And there’s plenty more to grow,” plenty more to grow. You like the sound of that.

“What is all this shit?” Audrey’s smile fades quickly as she looks at her father, and Taylor drops her hand. “She’s five years old, it isn’t even that big of a deal,” Taylor marches into the kitchen laying another bag onto the counter, “Audrey, go in the bedroom, and take a nap with Suede. It took him forever to go to sleep.”

“I don’t take naps.”

“Audrey!”

Frowning Audrey stomps her food, “I didn’t even want a birthday party anyways!” Before stomping off into her shared bedroom with Suede, and Scott grabs his head growling. Her outbursts need to stop. They are getting out of control because he can’t give her whatever she wants like you and Andy.

”She was excited about today, and you had to open your big mouth! These are the goody bags that you said you liked. So this is what I ordered,” her movements in the kitchen are harsh, and loud, and it grates on Scott’s everlasting nerves. First his daughter’s temper tantrum, and now her.

“You’ve been in such a pissy mood ever since…”

“I heard you tell your wife that you wanted to get back together,” Taylor interrupts. She knows he’s going to have some line that differs from what she knew. What she actually heard him say. It hurt her. Especially since Scott wasn’t even the perfect catch himself. He had baggage for one. But he was amazing in bed. And then the allowance started.

She didn’t want to be a mom. Every other weekend is fine. But he claims to want more time. She knows he doesn’t want more time with his kids. It’s his need for power. A power she sometimes feeds off of. She used to feed off it all the time. His power was addicting. The men her age didn’t have that. They didn’t have the money or smarts either.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” because that makes her feel better. When the kids aren’t here he’s a different man. They stressed him out because they couldn’t be controlled. Especially not Suede. When he’s awake he is nonstop moving and playing. Always asking questions you couldn’t understand, always getting in your face, always needing attention, always needing help to go to the bathroom. Everything that Scott wasn’t willing to give because it wasn’t his job.

It’s not her fucking job either. They’re his kids. And while they’re cute, it’s annoying that he didn’t want to help at all. She didn’t even know if she wanted kids. She had no desire to remove her IUD, or even tell him about it. Making a mistake on something she felt was more temporary isn’t part of her plan. Not that any of this was. He was cute, and he gave her attention, and that’s as far as her vision went.

“That’s not really how I feel,” it is just easier to ignore Scott’s words. He’d always talk himself into a corner anyways. “She just infuriates me so much. You don’t see the way she prances around with her new boy toy.”

“Fiancé,” she tells him, continuing to move about just so she doesn’t have to look at him.

“Excuse me?” The vitriol in his voice pisses her off. He had no right to be pissed off that she was engaged. Taylor would fuck Andy, too, if given the chance.

“Do you ever listen to your kids?” Scott shrugs. Of course he didn't listen to them, why should he? Usually they were someone else’s problem. And as of late they were her problem, and she couldn’t even do the fun things with Audrey because Suede had to be there, and he was limited. Scott didn’t like having Suede alone either. But today. Audrey was going to have the best birthday. She doesn’t know why his mom couldn’t have withheld him from the party for a couple of hours. She would be selfish like that. Audrey deserves to have the best party without the limitations her brother’s allergies set.

It’s the reason why she wanted their mom to be there so hopefully Suede would beg to go home, like he always did. And she could play dress up with Audrey. Maybe get manis and pedis. She likes Audrey. Suede she didn’t connect with, and she’s sure he doesn’t much care for her either. “Suede and Audrey both told you they got engaged. Audrey even said they’re moving into a new house.”

“What?” His jaw unhooks, and she knows that he has been emasculated again by Andy. “What do you mean they got a new house?”

“NaNa mama ho,” Taylor answers, annoyed, and Scott shakes his head confused, “Andy bought his mama a home. And Audrey clarified it by saying she has a room with lots of windows, and it’s her princess room.”

“Audrey doesn’t like princesses. Audrey likes the law. She lives in reality.”

“OH MY GOD!” Taylor screams agitated. “She’s a child. She is just five years old. Audrey’s likes to do what other normal five year olds do, and that includes princesses.”

“Audrey!” Taylor rolls her eyes, and starts to pack up the things from the house. Her and Audrey can go to the event center early to set up, and Scott can bring Suede later. She’s already annoyed at him. “Audrey Elise Huffman, come here right now!”

Pompous asshole. Audrey comes into the room, now wearing her Madeline dress and Mary Janes that her mom bought for her for the party. The hat in her hand, and her right foot fiddles around a bit, while she struggles to not grimace at her father. “You guys moved?”

“No. No, not yet,” Scott doesn’t see, but Suede lingers in the hallway. Probably peeing on himself since he won’t ask to go to the bathroom. “Um, Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy…”

“Breathe, Audi,” Taylor says softly, and the little girl takes a deep breath, but her father asserts his authority by putting his hands on his hips. “Go on.”

“We take some things there everyday. But we still sleep at home. D-Andy had someone paint my pri — my room,” of course she would change what she called her room. She’s in front of her father. But she told Taylor that her bedroom was a soft pink.

“What’s your favorite thing to play?” Scott asks, thinking he’s going to trick her.

“Bocks.”

“Suede, I wasn’t talking to you,” Audrey furrows her brow, and holds out a hand for her brother, but he growls, and turns to go back where he came from. Taylor knows that none of those kids apart from their last name belong to Scott. “Audrey?”

“I like to draw. And do adding,” Taylor wonders if Scott ever took the time to look at Audrey’s sketch books to see in between every drawing of a courtroom was unicorns, or mushrooms with faces. “Are Andy and Mommy coming today?”

“Chess. Andy, mama. Me ho!” He makes a bunch of loud noises in his bedroom, and Taylor bites her tongue because that means she has another mess to clean.

“Ugh,” Scott groans. He needs a nap. “Yeah, Suede get dressed,” a two year old get dressed by himself. Yeah, Taylor already sees where this is going, and walks away from Scott and to the kids room to get Suede dressed. Accessories are all they are to him. If she were to be asked, she’d tell the court that their mom deserved them. One day with the kids was enough for Taylor, but even their father couldn’t stand to truly be around them for more than an hour. It’s why he always left. Or why he made an excuse to be in his office. Why he came home late. She’s biding her time until after she goes on vacation. She never could have afforded it alone.

“They rented this for a five year old?” Ransom asks. It was a bit ostentatious for a child’s birthday party. I’m sure that Taylor’s Instagram will look fabulous today.

“They had to have the space for the bounce houses,” Ransom looks in the backseat at you. Sweet angel child, this is how Scott would have your children grow up, lacking a sense of child wonderment. “They’re these blow up things, and you can bounce and hop on them. Andy, I did get Suede’s inhaler, right?”

“Yep,” he could exert so much energy on those things, you hope that he was breathing okay. Or even that the adults were paying attention to how his lungs are working. “Doe, we’re not that late. You said you didn’t want to intrude on their birthday party.”

Being late didn’t even bother you. The less time you spend around him the better off you are, “I just can’t help but,” you didn’t want to say it, but something felt off. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut, and you’re trying to ignore it. But it is screaming. Blaring inside of your heart. “Andy, something’s wrong.”

He shakes his head no, but the moment the car is in the spot, you jump out of the car. Trying to remain calm, but your skin is crawling. Every hair on your body is prickled up, and all you hear is laughing and music. Your chest heaves as you walk towards the entrance, with Andy and Ransom jogging on your heels.

Going in the building you scan everywhere. Your smiling girl gives you a wave from one of the bounce houses, but no Suede. There is too much noise. Too many people. Too many kids. Too much going on. Scott sits with a group of men, and Taylor’s bouncing around like an idiot on the slide with the group of men watching her. Pigs. Everyone is accounted for. But…

”Andy, where’s Suede?” He goes off one way, while Ransom goes another, and you walk into the belly of the too many people like a wild woman. Your head whips back and forth as the bad feeling festers deeper in your bones. You want to vomit. Where’s your baby?

This isn’t right. There’s something wrong. He stays with Audrey, and none of those kids were him. Who were all these fucking kids? Who were all these men? Your throat is so dry. Fear doesn’t creep up, it swallows you whole. Taking every last bit of breath from your body. You didn’t see him. Couldn’t hear him. He always sees you first.

“Suede!” Nononononononononono. “Suedey! Baby, no!” The roar of the event center changes as you scoop up your baby from the floor. “Fucking macarons. There’s eggs in here. Oh my god. Andy! Oh my god, he’s not breathing!”

You can’t even hold your hand steady as you try to get the EpiPen out of your bag. “He’s not breathing. No no no,” the color of his skin is all wrong, and tinged purple. How long has he been here? My god you hate them. Hate both of them. You asked for one fucking thing.

You jab the pen into his leg, and open up his mouth. Scooping out the bit of cookie he couldn’t swallow. “Suedey, baby, mommy’s here. Come on, baby,” Ransom is already on the phone with 911, and you can’t focus on anything but the blurry baby in your arms. Your tears stain your cheeks, and make it impossible to see properly, “Suede! Suede, mommy needs you to take a breath.”

He’s so cold. He is too small, and doesn’t seem right. This is supposed to be a fun day. It could have been. Keep allergens away from Suede. That’s how you prevent this. “Suede, buddy, breathe for mommy,” holding a hand over his chest, you can’t think, you just do, and lay him on the floor to breathe for him.

“Mommy!” You want to comfort her, but you can’t. Suede needs oxygen. You took his allergies seriously, and learned everything there was to know in case of an emergency. “Mommy, he’s not dying,” Ransom scoops Audrey up in his arms, walking away with her kicking and screaming. He knows you don’t have time to deal with her comfort right now.

There are times you have to pick and choose your children, and right now Suede wasn’t conscious. Beat by beat. Pressure by pressure, you keep filling his lungs with oxygen, while you press onto his chest. Sounds that a mother should never experience inhabit your body as his chest cracks, but you just want air to move into his body.

“Come on, baby. Mommy loves you and she needs you,” come on. Take a breath. You need to see that he is capable. You can’t give up hope. It may be the swelling of his throat constricting his breathing. But the EpiPen will do what it needs to do. You have faith. He is okay.

It isn’t a breath as much as it is a gurgled cry, but it’s enough to see his skin starting to change back. “There you go, baby,” his blood shot eyes open up, and he stares at you so confused, and hurting. “Hey, Suedey. Mommy’s here. I’m right here, baby.”

He moves his mouth with no sound coming out, but you don’t care. He’s alert enough to see you. He looks around at everyone crowding him, but he’s back to you in a second. You pet along his face, crying and smiling, unable to focus or breathe yourself. Exhaustion overcomes you, but your baby is breathing.

“You son of a bitch!” You can’t even process that Andy is screaming, you just see this sweet little boy who is so scared and confused. “One fucking thing! She asked you one goddamn thing and that was that he could have everything here! That was it. You and your child of a girlfriend are deadbeats. You could have killed him!”

“Hey, baby,” you coo at him. Keeping him focused on you and not the fight that’s ensuing behind you.

“Mama,” his voice hurts so much, but it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. “Mama,” he’s okay. He’s not perfectly fine, but he’s okay.

”I know buddy. We have to wait for the ambulance. You and mommy are going on a ride.”

“My daddy,” his eyes circle around, looking for his father.

“He’s,” a piece of shit. He will never have your son with him alone ever again. You didn’t care if he ever saw Suede ever again. He didn’t deserve his son. His son meant nothing to him. He allowed those stupid cookies here, and couldn’t keep an eye on him.

“NaNa my daddy,” you wipe the tears and snot off your face. Andy can be his daddy. Scott didn’t deserve it. “My daddy NaNa.”

“Andy,” your voice is a croak, and he won’t hear it over his berating of Scott, but you didn’t have the energy to even try. “Andy.”

“You’re a sorry piece of shit, Scott, and you’re fucking idiot,” he defeatedly says as he walks over to you. “Suedey, buddy, you scared us,” this took ten years off of your life.

“Daddy. My daddy,” Andy looks over towards you, and you just nod your head. “Tong.”

“Yes, buddy, you’re so strong. Those sirens are for you. I’m going to check on Audi, okay?”

“Otay,” his little hand tries to give him a thumbs up, and Andy kisses your temple. He gives Suede a thumbs up back, as he stands up, ready to get Audrey.

“I’ll — you want me to bring Audi to the hospital?” No. She’s traumatized enough as it is. “Ransom said he can take her to his grandpa’s for a few hours.”

“Okay,” it’s the bad thing about not having friends here. But Ransom is a start. Didn’t hesitate to do what needed to be done. He took care of it all, while a part of you died inside. You have no feelings towards Scott, he’s dead to you. You struggled to ask for sole custody, but you aren’t struggling anymore.

You hear him saying your name, but ignore him. You are numb to him. That man has done the worst things to you, but purposefully being negligent to your child is unforgivable.

“He’s had an EpiPen?” You nod your head to the paramedic, and Suede squeezes your hand a bit tighter. “You ready to go for a ride? We’re going to make sure everything is okay.”

“Me tong,” Suede whispers out, and you finally smile.

“You’re the strongest little buddy I know,” and he is. You’ve never seen a two year old be as resilient as him. The way he is trying to smile despite whatever his little body is screaming. You know he’s in pain. Know that he’s hurting so bad, but he’s okay. Scott says your name again, and you don’t even look.

“Ma’am, is that your husband?”

“No, I’m not married. I’m engaged to…”

“My daddy. Mine,” Suede taps his chest, and you want to hold him and squeeze him. It might be a long way in the distance, but it is something Andy has hinted at. He’d adopt your kids. It’d be a process, but it’d get Scott out of child support. It would take the responsibility off his shoulders, and Andy would take it all. You don’t want a conversation. You want Scott to disappear, and let you and your kids move on with a man that loves and enjoys all of you.

They lift Suede up on the gurney, and he reaches for your hand, looking more scared now than before. “They’re not taking you from me, baby.”

“Doe, I’ll meet you at the hospital, honey,” you collapse in Andy’s embrace. Trying to absorb his strength before you get into the ambulance with Suede.

“My daddy,” you step up into the ambulance with him.

“Yeah, buddy, I’m your daddy,” Suede smiles at Andy before the doors are closed. And Andy walks towards the car.

“Barber!”

“Scott, how long was he out?” Scott shakes his head. The bastard didn’t even know. “I’m going to say this as nice as I know how, but you’re a sorry piece of shit. You didn’t care about Suede, and that proves it! You let that girl bring fucking eggs in the party, and you as the parent didn’t watch to see if he was getting into it. Do you believe he has allergies now? My fiance had to breathe life back into her baby! She saved our son’s life.”

“He’s my son!”

“By blood. That’s all you have. He’s my son by choice. His choice and mine. Suede could have died, and you’re too busy trying to have a pissing contest with me. I’m going to the hospital to comfort my fiance and son, and we’re going to pick up my daughter, and we’re going to go home,” Scott growls, showing more emotion with the mention of Audrey being Andy’s daughter than Suede’s.

“You’re an insufferable asshole that plays favorites. Don’t call. Don’t text. We’ll see you in court,” Andy slings his door open before he gets in. He meant what he said. That was it. Andy would make sure that the law was thrown at Scott. Because of his negligence Suede nearly lost his life. He’s finished playing nice. Fuck Scott Huffman.

Today, Andy Barber is a father.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy @hisredheadedgoddess28

[cuteguywhump]

Anaconda (1997)

[ravi-is-my-beloved]

Regardless of whom he targets, I think we can all agree that Gerrard needs to have a fatal anaphylactic reaction to beestings that tragically progresses too quickly for the firefam to be any help with. Epi pens are in the ambulance all the way on the other side of the apparatus bay; by the time they get over there, find one, and get back with it, it won't be needed anymore. Besides, at his age, his heart might not be able to withstand the spike in BP that epinephrine would cause. Massive heart attack, tragic but unavoidable. Many dry eyes at the funeral.

I don't generally like to wish death on fictional characters because it feels icky to me, but back when the bees were first teased, I did make a post about how what if the show resolves its Gerrard plotline with him being stung (and presumably dying). It was an impulsive thought, so I impulsively posted it.

Anyways, I do still want him to be stung, but I no longer really want him to die. Because I feel like if he dies, then a police officer might be like "Isn't it suspicious that he died of being stung around the same time he's being a shitty captain to his team?" I can just see them all sitting in interrogation rooms like they were in Oceans 9-1-1. And I kinda don't want to see them being accused of a crime for the third time (because they were also suspected when that author ((or whoever he was)) died during the treasure hunt and they all were the ones to find him).

However, part of me thinks him dying would be a memorable way to end the Gerrard storyline. I can't deny that.

[dulrond]

OKAY WALK WITH ME HERE

we know that kitty's death is probably related to her stomach (that vomiting scene in s4) and the trailer shows her sitting next to her sister, WITH HER DEATH CLOTHES ON, looking at a pineapple

taking the fact that that scene was obviously them seeing a pineapple for the first time, bc 19th century, i'm guessing that kitty wanted to try it

but what if she's allergic to pineapple

that would explain the vomit AND her death, if she went into anaphylactic shock bc of it

[monaisme]

Sicktember: Day 21

This is chapter 2 of the Sicktember fic posted yesterday. You can find it here (along with this once I get this posted over on ao3! 🤭):

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58933525

#21- Anaphylactic Response

It couldn’t have been timed better if they had planned it.

Granted, they’d lost a minute or two trying to convince the uber driver that Peter’s cough was NOT a result of covid, so maybe they hadn’t needed to cut it that close.

Bruce had first noticed that something was off a few minutes into the ride.

Peter began to bounce his leg...

No big deal. Bruce remembered Tony joking that he and Peter could start up a band called AD/HD so the stimming didn’t seem too out of place.

At least the coughing was starting to settle.

The breathing between those coughs, though, “Are you doing okay there, Peter?” Bruce had to ask. “You’re kind of quiet all of a sudden and your breathing seems a little...”

“’m still fine.” Peter forced out, then shifted his focus to the scenery as it passed by.

It was all Bruce could do to not call him out on the obvious lie. Peter was most definitely not fine. What he could do, though, was count down the minutes back to the hotel as Bruce recognized each landmark along the way. Bruce thought it might have helped, as they hit the two minute mark and Peter pulled out his phone, prepared to complete their uber transaction as hastily as possible.

The leg shaking grew more frantic.

 “Peter?” Bruce had to ask again as the vehicle finally pulled under the hotel’s porte-cochere.

Peter just shook his head.

The driver tapped on a screen as he thanked them for using Uber, Peter’s phone pinged, and in a flash, a tip had been given and Peter was bolting out of the vehicle and into the hotel without a word. 

Even struggling, the boy made sure to be kind.

Bruce offered an awkward ‘thank you’ as he fumbled to exit the car to follow Peter, and accidentally leaving their food behind.

“Peter!” Bruce called out as he watched the boy enter to the stairwell. A quick glance as he passed the lobby elevator showed the single elevator car biding its time on the sixth floor, with their room set on the third. Bruce had never been so thankful to Natasha and her insistence that Bruce focus on more than just yoga and meditation as he set off up the stairs behind him. Knowing the urgency, Bruce didn’t call out again, just rushed behind and hoped to catch up if Peter needed him before their destination.

Bruce was only steps behind Peter by the time he’d pushed the third floor stairwell door open with more strength than necessary. Planning ahead, Bruce pulled the room key card from his pocket as Peter patted down his own pocket for his. “I’m here, Peter. I’ve got it.” Bruce announced as he reached past him to the card reader on the door handle and tapped. The green light flashed and Peter was in the room and dashing past the vanity to the bathroom before Bruce could fully enter the room, the door slamming forcefully behind him.

And then the heaving started.

 Bruce had intended to follow, even tried to open the door to get to him, but Peter had managed to throw the lock before it all went to shit. All Bruce could do was lean against the counter outside of the door, silently supportive as he waited for Peter to come out, though the brief silence once he finally was did have Bruce nervous enough to contemplate breaking the door down. “Uh, Peter?” he finally had to call out. “Are you good?”

A weak, “Just a minute,” answered back.

Bruce took that as the cue to get to work, so he hurried into the hotel room proper and pulled back the blankets on Peter’s bed, which was conveniently located closest to the bathroom. Once that was done, he went back to the vanity, hastily lining the cheap plastic ice bucket with the provided plastic bag and filling two of the four disposable cups with tap water. He’d just placed them on the bedside table and brought the garbage can over as a reinforcement when the bathroom door creaked open.

“I am so sorry...” A concerningly pale Peter croaked as he shuffled to his bed and sat cautiously as he clutched his stomach. “I’d really hoped this wouldn’t happen...” Peter winced as he shifted to lie down.

Bruce stood by helpless, wishing that Tony could be here for Peter instead of him, but then Peter’s words sunk in, “Uh, hold on? What does that mean?” What had Bruce missed?

Peter sighed in frustration, “Since the whole, you know,” Peter waved a tired hand over his altered body, “It’s always a wild guess... ‘what is Peter’s body going to do with this new food exposure?’” Peter curled up a bit, “So this is totally my bad. I should’ve been more careful and ordered something I knew... especially when I was away from home. I should’ve...”

“Wait a minute...” Bruce cut him off as he processed that information, “Are you telling me this is an anaphylactic response?”

Peter shrugged, “I am neither confirming nor denying anything.”

“Hang on.” Bruce whipped his cell phone out of his pocket and pulled up his search engine. The look of horror that spread across Bruce’s face made it obvious exactly what he was scrolling through, “I sat beside you in the uber and you didn’t say anything while your symptoms were literally manifesting! You could have died? You could still die? Do you even have an epipen?”

Peter’s eyes drooped with exhaustion. “Nah, it hasn’t gotten that bad any other time. I think my spider DNA helps with that some. And you’re a doctor.” Peter coughed a little, “If something had happened, you’d have made sure I was okay.”

Bruce dropped down onto his own bed and dragged his hands through his hair. “I keep telling you guys—I’m not that kind of doctor” He exhaled loudly, “When are you guys going to believe me?”

Peter chuckled, “Mr. Stark says that you always say that, but he also says you always come through.”

Bruce blushed a little at the compliment, and meant to reply, but Peter kept talking.

“I’m just sorry that I messed up the rest of the weekend. I mean, I can try, but I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be out of commission for most of tomorrow, and you were talkin’ about that lecturer you wanted to go hear and the SI demonstration...” Peter’s voice cracked as he trailed off, then faux-rallied for Bruce’s benefit. “But it’s totally cool if you even want to go alone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Peter. Here,” Bruce was back up and offering one of the cups of water to Peter and picking up the garbage can. “Wanna give your mouth a rinse? And maybe, if you’re feeling safe, try to take a couple of sips?”

Peter nodded warily, then hesitated at the thought of either sitting back up, or more so, risking actually throwing up in front of a witness.

Bruce saw the hesitation, and understood. “Relax, Peter. As a future Avenger, it is a guarantee that you will have to do this in front of at least one- if not all of us at some point. You may as well get that first time out of the way now... especially if you still have anything in your stomach.” Bruce cringed at the idea. “In fact, I think I’d definitely feel better about it. Getting all of it out, that is...”

He sighed, “How is this my life?”

Bruce just shrugged, “Well, you wanted Dr. Bruce, so here we are.”

 “Ugh.”

“Hey,” Bruce crouched down to look him in the eye. “Let me tell you something that not too many people know—” Bruce made a show of looking over his shoulder for imaginary eavesdroppers. “The Avenger this is happening in front of is also the guy who always loses his pants at the end of the battle.”

“Oof. That sucks.” Peter clutched at his stomach as he laughed. “I thought losing my backpacks all the time was bad.”

“Oh, it sucks alright, but it just goes to show you that you’re not alone when it comes to the less than glamorous stuff. Now, my thought is that you want to drink as much as you can so that we can get this done and over with so you can start feeling better.” Bruce wiggled the water cup in front of him. “Throwing up something is better than throwing up nothing, and I’m right here. Is that okay?”

He eyed the cup like it had just insulted his Aunt May then Peter finally relented, propped himself up a little on one elbow and took the cup in his other hand. “I really am sorry about this. Really.”

“Nope. No apologies. Let’s just get this part done, then I’ll run down to the front desk and see if they have any overpriced painkillers to help take the edge off the stomach cramps, okay?”

Peter shook his head, “Don’t bother,” he took a first, tentative sip. “Painkillers don’t work on me anymore.”

“Wait—what?!” But he was too late.

Peter downed the rest of the water in a few of huge gulps, took a couple of deep breaths, then blanched. “Oh,” Peter slapped a hand over his mouth and belched. “That happened faster than expected.” He jackknifed upright and twisted just in time for Bruce to shove the garbage pail into his hands.

And so began round two.

Between heaves, Peter continued the litany of apologies.

Meanwhile, Bruce’s mind was in a tizzy. He awkwardly patted the kid’s shoulder while muttering soft comforts, “You’re okay, Peter,” or, “It’s almost over, Peter,” while implication after implication of Peter’s spider bite ran through his head. How many secrets did this kid have? There were so many questions—that Bruce would have to get to later on.

“I hate my life,” Peter panted out after a particularly violent sounding heave. “but think I’m—” he dry heaved again, then again, and then breathed for a minute. “Yeah,” he panted. “Done.” He sounded like he’d run a marathon.

“Good—good,” Bruce stood up, wincing as his own knees cracked. He grabbed the second cup of water from the nightstand, and offered Peter a trade, “If you’re sure, wanna give me the can and you can do that rinse now?”

“I’m one million percent sure that my stomach is empty now so...” All concern about appearances was out the window and with a little bit of passing and grabbing, Peter was feeling as refreshed as he was going to be. “Thanks.” Peter handed the cup back to Bruce and tried to get comfortable again.

“That’s enough with the apologies.” Bruce was already feeling bad for him, “I’m sorry that I don’t have anything to help you out with, but—can I—?” He’d just told Peter that he wasn’t a real doctor and now here he was... “Can I just do a quick evaluation?”

Peter stiffened, ready to refuse, but Bruce was figuring out the lay of the land.

 “It would make me feel better...”

Peter blew out a frustrated breath. “Fine.”

“Great!” Bruce jumped to work, “let me just get rid of these,” he placed the mostly full water cup back on the nightstand and then rushed to the hotel room door and placed the garbage can the hallway. A quick call to the front desk for housekeeping made its contents someone else’s problem, but Bruce made a note to leave a big tip when they left, so no guilt.

Peter simply watched from the bed.

Once everything was taken care of, Bruce sidestepped to the vanity and washed his hands before coming back into the room proper. He dragged the wheeled compute chair over to sit between the beds, and then pulled his phone out again. “Um,” Bruce needed to approach this delicately. “Before I do anything more, I do want to call your aunt, if that’s okay?”

Peter immediately opened his mouth to argue but Bruce cut him off before he could start.

“I ask only because you’re sixteen, Peter, and first and foremost, that technically makes you a minor who is in the midst of a medical situation, and believe it or not, I’m really not a doctor. Second, someone should really know what’s going on here in general what with the altered DNA and your aunt makes the most sense. If you think about it, it’s only dumb luck that nothing more catastrophic has happened.”

Peter didn’t seem to know what to do. He’d been through the wringer already tonight and it showed. “I get what you’re saying, but you don’t understand! I can’t tell my aunt,” Peter begged. “I already cause her so many problems, Dr. Banner, and I can’t add another one... I just can’t.”

He exhaled slowly, then caught the slip up. “It’s still Bruce, Peter. You’re fine. And if you don’t want me to call your aunt, then can I at least call Tony?”

Peter muttered, “Do you really have to?”

Bruce didn’t feel out of place grabbing Peter’s hand and giving a squeeze of support. “Yeah, I think it is.”

And so he did.

Bruce put the phone on speaker to put Peter at ease.

Tony answered on the second ring, “Brucie! How are you and my young protégé doing this fine evening? Is the spider-baby all tuckered out from getting his geek on? And what did he think of the SI demo? I had him in mind when I was coordinating with our tech guys. ”

Bruce waited patiently for Tony to come to the end of his greeting. “The convention has been amazing so far, but we, uh, we missed the demo... Yeah. That’s actually why we’re calling,” he cast a quick glance over to Peter, who was looking devastated. Bruce squeezed his hand tight again. “You’re on speaker, Tony. We have a bit of a situation here and I think you need to be in the loop.”

The shift in Tony’s tone was immediate, “Tell me what’s going on, Bruce, and how can I help?”

[aropride]

you open a 16 year old’s rentry and its like nick ++ 6teen ++ it he she ++ 💐🥩🦟🌈🧃 ++ vincian and you click random words before realizing the png of the anime boy brings u to the next page which is like

[ “OUT OF THE ASHES…”

dni: “bi bisexual” supporters (kys) ++ antis ++ bigots ++ use the window curtain flag ++ think demiboys can say faggot ++ freaks ++ authoritarians ++ dont like kys jokes ++ int. with user catboyblorbo ++ hate my favs ++ general dni criteria

[ “…STARS WILL RISE ❤️”

and by this point youre in too deep you need to know more so u click on random words and pngs until u find the next page

~~ 🧚‍♀️ smiling unicorn system 🦄 ~~

freq fronters: emma she it they ++ jace no prns ++ nick it he she ++ naruto gore rot xe

and the last page (which u can only find once u realize the “t” in fronters is underlined) is like

transrace (white -> autistic) ; 12-16yrs ; antis dni ; 🏔️🌈⏰🧪🥩 ++proud. rabies (selfdx) adhd (profdx) ibs (med recognized) ; ex discourser

and then ur significantly cooler teenage mutual sends u an ask letting u know that the emoji keysmashes means they go around public parks beating up small children for fun and in 2019 they were called out for breaking into peoples homes and beating them to death with golf clubs and thats what they meant by “ex discourse blog”

[the-entity-down-the-street]

Can we talk more about how having severe allergies puts mortal fear into your soul at a young age?

Like "hey kid I know you're like five, but your body has a design flaw where if you eat (or sometimes even share a space with) {allergen} you essentially drown on land, and instead of water rushing into your airways, your body turns against you, tongue and throat swelling until breathing is completely cut off. You're surrounded by oxygen, yet it's completely inaccessible. Only way to *temporarily* keep that from happening is to stab yourself in the thigh with a needle full of panic chemicals. Also avoiding your allergen is mostly on you because restaurants won't think twice about frying potential allergens in the same oil as the goddamn fries (or worse, they use an oil made from your allergen), the folks bringing potluck dishes don't provide listed ingredients (and you shouldn't trust their word alone), and your allergen shows up in unexpected places because nobody thinks about this stuff if their literal life isn't on the line. Have fun with that!"

What in the Junji Ito Clive Barker David Lynch horrific fuck is this body/psychological horror shit

[film-media-appreciation]

Bridgerton details you might have missed...

While we wait and inevitably rewatch before Season 3 in December, here are some things about Bridgerton.

Hyacinth is named that because Edmund picked them for his wife in Season 2 (episode 3). Later on in that episode, as we see the younger children as Violet looks back towards the house, we can see Benedict, Colin, Daphne, Eloise and Francesca with little Gregory.

(They look so much like their older selves, even with something as subtle as Eloise's haircut or Benedict's height.)

Even in season 1, Eloise asks Daphne if she is scared of having children, remarking how she remembers that their mother almost died in childbirth, and Daphne sang to her to try and mask the shouts of labour.

Antony looks anywhere between 16-18 years of age, as the Doctor asks his opinion on what to do for the difficult birth, and in desperation, Violet shouts "His Lordship is a child!"

(Hereditary titles pass to the oldest male heir on the death of the previously titled heir)

Antony is also the first character in Bridgerton to describe what we know as viewers to be PTSD, from how Violet describes how seeing his Father die changed how he acted and how his mother shutting down in grief and depression meant she was not there for him.

[brotha-lamp]

I’ve run out of food again and had to eat something I know will set off a histamine reaction even though I’ve been trying so hard to empty the “histamine bucket” thing. 😭 My throat already started itching.

I genuinely don’t understand how my doctor thinks my mood POSSIBLY being low from a medication that keeps me from possibly dying from fucking anaphylactic shock is better than maybe dying??? Never mind the fact that they won’t even give me a script for an epipen. At this point I’m 100% sure this doctor only sees me as a problem they want to go away.

Like, death. Or depression. One seems more dangerous for me right now than the other. But I guess because I’m fat that just not eating is ok, right? 🙃

[thebibliosphere]

Tw: restricted medical diet, missing hunger cues, death, general food and chronic illness stuff. (It's a good post tho)

Being able to eat cereal again has unlocked something actually feral in me. I'm so used to not being able to grab a quick little snack that won't have Medical Consequences later that I've pretty much gotten used to just... turning my hunger cues off and running at a deficit of calories.

It takes me literal hours to eat a bag of crisps because if I don't eke it out, my body will reject it. I can't have most fruits because my body will reject them. Raw vegetables will send me to the ER. All the foods I can eat require labor, either past or present, and when you're already running on a deficit of energy from chronic pain and constant hunger, well, that's easier said than done.

But being able to do something as simple as eating cornflakes, either with or without milk, and not have my body go into an anaphylactic meltdown is... This is game-changing.

When I say it has awoken something feral in me, I'm being literal. It's hunger. I'm feeling hunger, and for the first time in literal years, I'm able to sate it without having to burn up precious energy to do it.

And it's just so achingly normal that it feels like it shouldn't be a big deal. It feels ridiculous to feel tearful over a thing like cornflakes. But when I consider the fact that in 2019, I almost died from malnutrition because my nervous system was shutting down, and I couldn't eat anything because my MCAS was so advanced everything was sending me into anaphylaxis I, I just. Yeah.

Crying over cornflakes on a Monday night.

Just MCAS 'remission' things... ✌

[combeauferre]

he picked a different one! it's about a man who has ninety minutes before he dies of a brain aneurysm!

how many times is my dad gonna pick out a 'fun, feel good movie' that's about someone trying and failing to kill themselves multiple times

[opossum-by-night]

(TW: medical emergency)

Oh, also, the raccoon had a horrible anaphylactic reaction over the weekend and we didn't have an EpiPen so we had to rush him to the emergency room while his throat was actively closing up and then he had to spend the night at the hospital, but the bright side is that I got to use my one and only life skill of Being Really Good in a Crisis™

[cuteguywhump]

Becoming (2020)

[shion-yu]

Day 21: Anaphylactic response

Cliff suffers from serum sickness. 1,826 words, TW for emergency situation (duh). @sicktember

It had been a week since Cliff had been in the hospital with a bacterial infection. All things considered it had been minor, for him, and he’d only stayed for two nights to get IV antibiotics before being changed over to an oral dose at home. Cliff had been resting, and Elliot had gone back to work. It was supposed to be all over, and Cliff only had three days of his antibiotic left. There had been no issues at all.

So why, then, could he not breathe now?

Elliot woke up at the sound of his alarm for work, and the first thing he noticed was the blazing furnace that was Cliff beside him. Cliff hadn’t stirred, but immediately Elliot noticed his breathing sounded horrible, like he was barely getting any air in, was. His torso and legs were covered in a huge pink, raised rash and all of his skin was absolutely on fire with fever. 

“Shit,” Elliot swore, going from half asleep to horrified in just a few seconds. Cliff hadn’t had a fever last night, or at all in days for that matter. Now, though, he was practically scalding Elliot. “Cliff, wake up,” Elliot said, quickly leaning over to crank Cliff’s oxygen up to the max. It took several seconds, but Cliff stirred and squinted up at Elliot in confusion. This expression of calm unawareness was momentary before he immediately began to cough, harshly and with a tight gasp between breaths. His eyes grew wider with panic and he reached for Elliot’s arms, struggling to sit up. Elliot quickly hoisted him up, unable to keep the shock off his expression as he realized the widespread and severe extent of Cliff's sudden rash, and helped Cliff administer his rescue inhaler.

Although the rash was mostly contained to Cliff's abdomen and legs, there was some on his arms and neck too. The rash ceased to be Elliot’s main concern though when Cliff couldn't get a good breath in, wheezing and clutching a fist to his chest in strain. He wanted to tell Elliot he couldn't breathe, although it was obvious, but words weren't coming out. He looked terrified and wondered to himself if he was going to pass out. "Help," he managed to choke out. The medication didn't feel like it was helping, or if it was he couldn't feel it. In fact he didn’t feel like he was getting any relief at all. 

“I’m calling the hospital,” Elliot said, fumbling for his cell phone. Cliff didn't argue. In fact, he was scared enough that he agreed that it was the best course of action. His head was swimming and he seemed unable to focus on anything but the part where he just couldn't get a breath of air in - naturally.

“Hello?” He heard Elliot speaking to emergency services on the phone. “Yes, my husband, he can’t breathe, and he has a huge rash…” Cliff looked down to see the rash now as Elliot rambled off their address, only noticing his skin now. 

"Elliot,” he wheezed. “Epipen." He didn't know if he was having an allergic reaction, or what it could possibly be from if he was, but the rash made him think that if anything, maybe the medication in the epipen would let him breathe again. He had one in the top of his medicine cabinet thanks to certain medications he took. He'd never had to use it, and found the idea terrifying, but not breathing was more terrifying.

“What? Oh!” Elliot exclaimed, scrambling off the bed to grab the pack of two epipens that Cliff had. “He said to use his epipen,” Elliot rambled to the phone. “No, I don’t know what he could be having a reaction to, but I’m going to do it. Please hurry.” 

He put the phone down on the bed and opened one of the pens. The first responder was saying something to Elliot, maybe instructions on how to use it, but Cliff wasn’t listening. He’d stopped coughing now, which was perhaps more terrifying that coughing had been. Everything was turning white around him, and he thought he was going to pass out.

Then he felt a sharp jab in his leg and quite quickly afterwards, a powerful rush that made him gasp loudly. Everything hurt, but he was breathing. Cliff blinked away the whiteness, confused and grasping blindly for Elliot. He collapsed back onto his pillows, sucking in precious oxygen and could feel his heart beating out of his chest. He didn’t know what the hell happened, but the epipen was definitely working. Elliot held onto him and kept telling him it was going to be alright, that the ambulance was coming. Cliff just concentrated on breathing.

By the time the paramedics had arrived in their bedroom, Cliff was breathing but unbearably overheated. His vitals were absurd, especially his temperature of 104.2. 

“That has to be a mistake,” he mumbled. Everybody ignored him and got him loaded onto a stretcher instead and into the ambulance instead. "M'dizzy," he muttered. "Is that normal?"

"After an epipen? Pretty much," the paramedic said, motioning for the EMT to close the doors and get driving. A small crowd of bystanders was congregating, most of them their neighbors on their own way to work. It was a small blessing that Cliff was too out of it to care, otherwise he would have died of embarrassment right there. "How's your breathing feeling?" 

"My throat's kinda tight," Cliff said. "Hey, are you sure your thermometer works? A hundred and four seems... I mean I don't feel terrible anymore.”

"That would just be because of the epi," the paramedic said factually. "Just sit back and relax okay? We'll be off to the hospital as fast as we can." It was rush hour though, and lights and sirens could work only so many miracles. They questioned Elliot for details as they drove, Cliff too fuzzy to answer for himself.

"Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Cliff said when they were halfway there. All the color he’d gained had now drained from his face and his hand had immediately gone to his throat. “But I think it's happening again." The paramedic glanced at the oxygen probe on Cliff's finger and grimaced before driving the second epipen into Cliff’s thigh without warning. “Ouch!” Cliff exclaimed, wide eyed in shock. He looked at Elliot incredulously, as if to say, ‘Can you believe what he just did to me?’

Elliot looked gravely seriously though and just squeezed Cliff’s shoulder. Cliff reached for his hand. “It’s okay,” he said. Elliot looked at him like he’d said something ridiculous.

Once they got to the hospital, Cliff was whisked away to a bay in the ER. He got IV Benadryl and steroids, and it didn’t take too long for a young resident to come to explain to Cliff that they thought he was having "a serum sickness-like reaction to the amoxicillin." 

"I'm not allergic to amoxicillin," Cliff said irritably. Now that he was breathing again, he had become acutely and miserably aware of the burning, itchy rash he had all over and the incredible top to bottom pain he was in. "I've had it before and I've been taking it for like a week." 

"Actually, that's a very typical timeline for serum sickness, and it's even likely you can take amoxicillin again in the future. It just happens sometimes. We're going to stop that medication and admit you for observation for at least 48 hours, make sure no more anaphylaxis occurs, and hopefully that's it,” the resident explained.

"That's it," Cliff repeated dryly. He was pissed this was happening and pissed he was being admitted again. "Am I supposed to feel feel like I got hit by a car?"

The resident’s mouth switched, although Cliff wasn’t joking. "Severe arthritis is a common symptom, yes. I'll ask my attending if we can give you something for pain. We’ll be admitting you," the resident said before scurrying off. Cliff sighed and wondered if he left AMA, if Elliot or anaphylaxis would kill him first.

As if reading his mind, Elliot reached out to him and took his hand. “It sounds like you’re going to be okay,” he said quietly. “And that’s what matters.” Cliff bit back his frustration because Elliot looked close to breaking. 

What followed next was several days of the most pain Cliff had ever experienced. He was on Benedryl, Tylenol, steroids and plenty of pain medication, but still he could barely move. Elliot advocated for him, dismissing physical therapists and nurses who tried to get him to move too much in the first few days. He knew Cliff, while irritable when in pain, was usually still willing to do what he needed to do to heal. The fact that he couldn’t even get a blood pressure without crying out in pain was enough for Elliot to refuse further intervention in the beginning.

Slowly but surely, though, they got through this sudden hospital stay. Cliff was frustrated and depressed, angry that his body had randomly decided to betray him and the fact that a high CRP kept him in for an extra few days did nothing to help his spirits. But finally, finally, they went home.

Cliff was grouchy and exhausted, but being in his own bedroom made a world of difference. Elliot was just beyond relieved that he was okay. It occurred to him that had his alarm for work not gone off that morning, something very realistically could have gone much worse. He couldn’t confidently say that Cliff would have woken up on his own, otherwise.

On their first night home, Cliff beckoned Elliot close and said, “You’re my hero.”

Elliot looked at him in confusion. “What?” He asked. 

“You saved me. The epipens. Thank you. That must have been hard.”

“Oh.” Elliot didn’t like to think that he’d literally had his husband’s life in his own hands. “It was hard. But not doing it would have been worse.” He swallowed a lump in his throat and swiped his watering eyes quickly. “It was really scary, Cliffy.”

“I know.” Cliff pulled him into a huge. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I have such a stupid body that tries to kill me all the time. You’re stronger than me, E.”

“That’s not true,” Elliot sniffed.

“Yes it is. I don’t know if I could have done what you did. Or do.”

“Let’s not talk about it,” Elliot said, resting his head on Cliff's chest where he could hear Cliff’s steady heartbeat and breath. “Please. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Cliff rested his hand on the back of Elliot’s head and closed his eyes. “Okay. Really, though. Thank you, E. I love you.”

“Any time,” Elliot said hoarsely. And even though it sounded like a joke, he would jab Cliff in the thigh with an epipen any time, no matter how much he hoped he never had to again. “I love you too.”