#but i’m surprised it happened in the first place and that i have the diagnosis (like maybe it’s bc

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

rationally, pursuing a diagnosis is the way to go because it’s been over three years and i cannot keep living like this. however, it scares the shit out of me and everything i see about what they could potentially decide for treatment makes me start to panic

[courviknight]

huh.

[magneto-was-fucking-right]

The Ghost Next Door - Chapter 3

Prompt: After suffering an almost lethal injury in combat, Simon "Ghost" Riley expected a dull, and uneventful leave back at his shitty apartment. His new next-door neighbor ruins his plans. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (named Riley Thomas for plot purposes)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Disclaimer: slow burn; neighbor!Simon; will eventually contain very graphic descriptions of smut;

Chapter summary: In which Simon’s neighbor gets to work and he ends up with his pants down. Word Count: 1.9k

12.30 pm

How long do I have to be MIA?

His fingers nervously danced around the keyboard, his stomach a pit of anxiety and resentment.

He let his mind wander, running over the events of the last mission: the adrenaline sharpening his senses, his balaclava soaked in sweat and rain, Soap yelling out in warning, a stray bullet piercing his thigh so quickly he had barely noticed it until the blood loss caused him to collapse in the muddy floor. A shiver went down his spine as he recollected the familiar sensation of having metal cutting down his flesh, tearing it open only to be restitched moments later.

His eyes were back on the tiny screen as soon as it lit up.

12.35 pm

Doc’s orders, Lieutenant. You need time off.

Simon sighed deeply in exasperation, running a hand down his face as he threw his phone on the table. He took a long, bitter look at the bloody bandage around his thigh, his sutures still partially torn, but he hadn’t dared to check how bad it was yet. The absence of a structured routine was already getting to him, and he was terrified of his mental well-being once the weeks turned into months of being alone with his thoughts and traumas he had fought so hard to bury.

The knock on the door hardly surprised him, as he had been expecting his groceries, but dreaded the social interaction that was bound to come with it. As he reached for his facemask, the young woman was once again on his doorstep, looking even more disheveled and fatigued than she had been hours before.

She carried two heavy plastics bags in each hand, the dog’s leash entangled on her wrist as his tail wagged furiously.

“You look terrible.” Simon pointed out. “Did ya have to fist fight for the groceries, kid?”

“Oh ha ha” She replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she struggled to hold up the bags. “A little help, please?”

Simon was quick to reach for the groceries, lifting the weight off her hands so easily she seemed embarrassed at having struggled in the first place. He limped back to the kitchen to put them down on the table and froze once he heard her step inside along with him.

“What are ya doing?” He asked coldly as he saw her stare at his leg, stepping closer as if entranced.

“Y-you’re bleeding.” She pointed at his wounded thigh, the blood soaking through his sweatpants.

“Fuckin’ hell” he muttered as he glanced at the dark wet spot growing in the fabric.

“What happened?” His neighbor asked, deep lines of concern in her expression as she tied the dog’s leash to his doorknob.

“Work injury” He grunted as he stumbled to the couch, feeling progressively dizzier as the wound seemed to have reopened completely.

“Christ…Where’d you get deployed to?” He vehemently ignored her curiosity before hissing as she softly pressed the area around the wound with delicate fingers.

Her face reddened under the heavy silence, and as she knelt between his legs to run her uncalled diagnosis, Simon felt the urge to put distance between the two of them. Physical or emotional.

“Confidential” He replied, coldly and she gave a shy nod, an anxious exhale leaving her frame. “And before ya offer, I don’t need ya help.”

“Right…I’m sorry for asking” She purposefully dismissed his last remark. Simon was just about to ask her to leave when she stood up on her own, eyes still focused on his leg as she retreated to the door, grabbing the pup’s leash and taking him away.

Simon stared at the entrance of his residence in confused shock, not expecting her to leave in such a strange manner, leaving his door ajar, nonetheless. But before he could protest, after hearing a wide variety of noise coming from next door, his neighbor was back with a small box in her hands, this time alone, as he heard the dog whine in the distance.

Simon Riley remained quiet, a grumpy glare burning her figure as she put on surgical gloves and placed a small first aid kit on his coffee table.

“My father was in the military too.” She spoke softly as she prepared clean gauze and a topical iodine-based antibiotic. Simon tried to hide his surprise as she gestured to his thigh. “Let’s just say this isn’t my first rodeo with short-tempered men who can’t admit when they need help.”

He observed her in stunned silence, eyes trailing the small scar over her eyebrow, the deep eyebags that settled on top of a slightly freckled complexion. His thoughts were temporarily invaded with images of a small, introverted child who waited anxiously for her father to return home, months on end with no news or the prospect of a stable life. A chipped canine tooth and dimples. Untamed hair and ill-fitting clothes.

When his eyes returned to hers, she was kneeling in front of him once again, awaiting his permission.

“Would you mind pulling your pants down?” She asks, blushing profusely at the request, to which he sighs deeply and sits in silence for a few more seconds before finally giving in. Limbs stiff with discomfort and suspicion, Simon reluctantly pulls the hem of his sweatpants down, lifting his lower back off the couch slightly to pass them over his muscled thighs, exposing a raging-red gash with tore black stitches.

“Look at that” She mumbled disapprovingly. “This could’ve gotten infected.”

She reached for a sterile tweezer to remove the mangled stitches, and the man let her work in peace, not letting out as much as a sigh when the anti-bacterial medicine burned into his open flesh. Her feather-light fingers revealed such care and compassion towards his injury, he was inclined to enjoy her touch on his thigh, not that he’d ever admit that to himself.

Riley Thomas felt her face and neck burning up with embarrassment. Despite her professional laser focus on tending to a wound, just as what was usual at the Vet clinic, her brain wasn’t quite ready to process the size of his muscled flesh, as well as her hands’ proximity to his most sensitive areas. She did her absolute best to avoid letting her gaze linger on anything other than what was strictly necessary, occasionally glancing up at him to make sure he was okay, always finding his gaze focused on the wall, legs stiff, face half covered.

“I might have an anesthetic spray in my flat. You might feel a slight pinch” She grimaced apologetically as she showed him the small needle and sutures, and he shrugged, unbothered.

“Don’ worry about it” he grumbled, despite his paleness, and she swallowed dryly before raising a slightly trembling hand. This was the hard part.

He cocked his head to the right, mocking her.

“What’s the matter doc? Never worked on an animal this big?” He taunted and she huffed, her face as red as a tomato.

 “I usually do this under the right circumstances, that’s all…” Riley explained nervously.

“And I usually like to be taken for dinner before anyone gets my pants off.” He deadpanned and she almost choked on her saliva, her dimples popping up as she laughed whole-heartedly, diffusing any previous tensions.

“There ya go, kid.” He nodded in approval as she expertly prodded the first patch of skin with the needle, her hands now firm and breath steady as she confidently moved about.

Once she finished, having wrapped bandages around the protective gauze on his thigh, she sat back on her heels, removing her gloves with a sigh of relief.

“Regiment?” He suddenly asked and her eyes snapped back to his, startled. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she answered.

“Marines.”

“Yank?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Hmm” He grunted, lost in thought.

A comfortable silence settled between the two as the soldier pulled his blood-stained sweatpants back up and she cleaned up the mess.

“Dead?” He asked plainly and she stilled, fiddling with her fingers for a few seconds, gaze set low. Her mouth opened and closed twice before she gave a proper answer:

“Yes.”

 “KIA?”

“Blue on blue” Riley stood up and turned around quickly, hiding her face from her neighbor’s intense gaze. There was a massive lump in her throat and she forced herself to breathe deeply, etching a smile on her face.

“Where’s your bin?” She changed the subject, interrupting the man’s pensive expression.

“Bottom cupboard, under the sink.” He replied.

She threw away the bloody gauze and plastic wrappers from the equipment, before properly washing her hands on the basin.

“How come your faucet doesn’t leak?” Riley asked in fake outrage and the man blinked slowly.

“Does yours?”

“Everyone’s does in here.”

The man shrugged.

“I can take a look at that later if ya like…” He reluctantly suggested but seemed so uncomfortable by the idea she giggled at his expression and forced politeness.

“It’s alright. My flat is a mess anyway, wouldn’t want you to see it.” She smiled nervously before moving to the grocery bags on top of his table. “Anyway, I got you a rug.” There was a devious expression in Riley’s face as she pulled out the outdoor rug, its pink fibers engrained with the words Live, Laugh, Love. Her neighbor’s abhorred expression and reproachful look made her laugh so hard she had to cover her mouth.

“Thanks. I hate it.” He spoke from the couch with his arms crossed over his chest. “I think I prefer the one covered in shite.”

“It reminded me of you” She still giggled as she set it on the table.

“Because I’m a such a ray of sunshine?”

“Because it’s what you look like you need” She explained “To live, to laugh and to love” She shrugged, two dimples dotting her cheeks.

“People have committed homicide for less.”

“Don’t be ungrateful!” She set her hands on her waist, playfully staring him down. “My housewarming gift was an eviction petition and leaky faucets.”

“Speakin’ of” He bent over to his coffee table, looking around between a few scattered documents until he fished out the petition papers he still hadn’t gotten rid of.

“D’ya have a pen?” He patted his legs as if he was looking for one, and her jaw hung in shock, her hand on her chest in feigned offense.

“You prick!” She grabbed a beer cap from the counter and threw it at his head, which he caught easily and held between his thick fingers.

If Simon wasn’t wearing a facemask, she would’ve noticed the small smile that had plagued his chapped lips. He threw the papers carelessly unto the table and she nodded once, grateful.

“I’ll get out of your hair. Do you need me to put away the groceries before I leave?” She offered, kindly.

“I’m okay.”

“Alright then, you should rest up and eat somethin’ sugary. You’re still a bit too pale.” The young woman advised as she grabbed her purse and her first aid kit, heading for the door.

Just as she was about to close the door behind her, his deep voice spoke from the couch, without turning around to acknowledge her:

“Name’s Simon.”

She froze at the door, trying to contain her happiness.

“I’m Riley.”

She shut the door softly, and he chuckled to himself.

Simon and Riley. Simon Riley.

A/N: Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you guys are enjoying it and it gives you as much comfort to read it as I get from writing it. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for the upcoming parts, and as always any feedback is welcome! Thank you to the people who have taken some time to comment on it <3

[spiderliliez]

MORFYDD CLARK and ADHD

ADHD Awareness Month October 2024

The GIFs above are excerpts from Morfydd’s five different interviews during the promotion of “Saint Maud” while still filming “The Rings of Power” where she briefly talks about, and inadvertently exhibits her ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) traits. The first one shows of her being surprised by her alarm, and explains she keeps it on snooze so she doesn’t forget her tasks. Some would think this is just normal, that we all really need to have reminders anyway. But when you have ADHD, your alarms will be your lifesaver, and it can be quite extreme as your attention easily wanders off and you have almost no control of it, because you simply completely forget what you’re supposed to do. 😖

In the second interview, the keyword is “Procrastination” and she mentions how procrastination doesn’t make her feel guilty. Constant procrastination is very common amongst people with ADHD. It’s just always there. Yes, we all procrastinate, but people with ADHD does it more extreme than others. There are those who would feel endless guilt when they dither and temporize what needs to be done, and after all that, they still couldn’t keep themselves from procrastinating anyway. It becomes this vicious cycle, that adds on to one’s depression because of feeling incompetent. I’m just glad she’s allowed herself to indulge in what she wants to do and not feel criminal about it. 🙃 In the third one, she talks about her struggle with reading and being unable to keep at it for a certain duration. This is very common with ADHD as your ability to focus shifts so quickly, especially if you happen to be reading something you realized you’re not that interested in. However as she mentioned, she was able to read through the entire script (for “Saint Maud”) in one go, of which shows how much she loved the story. In some of her interviews, she speaks of how audiobooks have been very helpful to her. People with ADHD can also have “Dyslexia” (just like Morfydd). It’s more common than not, and that makes reading and writing even more challenging.

In her fourth and fifth interview, she talks about how her brain reacts while she was in school. It’s quite clear, listening and reading her interviews, that she has the combination of both the “Hyperactive-Impulsive and Inattentive Type”. As you know, there are three types (Hyperactive-Impulsive, Inattentive, and having both). Being in class, with so much stimuli, with her brain firing different thoughts and ideas almost all at once, as Morfydd exclaimed, “So exciting!”, while the teacher talks about a subject that she probably doesn’t find interesting, plus that insatiable need to get on her feet to be where she wants to be, or do what she wants to do. And all of that... you can imagine, it just becomes quite taxing for an excited ADHD brain. 🧠 I get that, really. The most common type of ADHD in girls is the “Inattentive Type” (formerly just called “ADD” aka Attention Deficit Disorder), which is easily overlooked. I was only diagnosed with it as an adult, which makes it sad as I’ve always been so cruel to myself before, not knowing what was wrong with me, and admitted to myself that I was just simply “lacking” or worst, feeling “dumb”. It’s a terrible (false) acceptance for a kid, and I carried that thought until adulthood. Morfydd got her diagnosis when she was seven. She was probably quite a handful! 😅 Parents and teachers can easily spot the “Hyperactive” kids because, well, they are literally hyperactive and uncontrollably rambunctious. Because of that, they can get their diagnosis earlier in life and get the help they require in their formative years. I was not like that. I was quiet, and timid. I was even called the “most behaved in class”. I didn’t cause any trouble in school. However, my concentration level is next to zero at worst times. I might be sitting quietly, but my mind is just all over the place. I’ve learned earlier in life on how to pretend I’m okay and find ways to cope.

🗨️ MORFYDD SAID:  I knew I was different from age seven when I started having medication for it. I understood that something was different but I didn’t understand what it was. I’d go and get my tablet in the staff room at lunchtime and there was a boy a few years above me who had an illness that required lots of medication, but I didn’t know this at the time. I remember seeing him get lots of tablets, cause that’s what he needed, and being like “Wow. He must be really naughty because I am quite naughty and I get one tablet.” I think quite early on, you label yourself as naughty and bad. (via ContentMode)

My ADHD caused me to have insomnia as early as age eight or nine. My brain just never stops wandering, even when I am physically tired. When I do things, I finish my tasks a lot longer than most people, be it at school, at home, or at work. This is not something I’ve talked about before, because I feel as an adult, in the usual corporate profession, I feel I’d be marginalized for it. It’s not really something I want my colleagues, and my boss to know. What’s more, for ADHD people, other learning disabilities are quite common. In school I enjoyed writing essays and stories, however, I suffered from mild “Dyslexia” and when I started second grade I started to have terrible “Dyscalculia” that I still have to this day.

🗨️ MORFYDD SAID: My dyslexia means I can’t read for long periods or the letters start moving around on the page, giving me headaches, so I have to prep more than others in shorter bursts — and when I’m home I’ve got these orange tinted glasses that I have to wear. (via WalesOnline)

My dyslexia has progressively gotten better as I have gotten older, and I even joined spelling bees in school. But the amount of hard work I did for that was just a lot. When I joined my local school paper, I decided it’s better I just focus on “editorial cartooning” instead of writing features and news because I have trouble submitting my articles on time. My dyscalculia until now is the same. I took up “Bachelor of Computer Science”, and you could call it a miracle, but I did manage to graduate. During exams, I always leave the room last, as I have to recheck my answers again and again before I submit them. Same with writing emails at work. And when I have to read a book, I oftentimes find myself stuck on one page over and over again. I’d be reading the same lines, but my mind just flies off, so I have to either stop, or restart reading until I could concentrate. The distraction can be caused by my own thoughts, or because I’m distracted by my surroundings. It’s really hard to focus, and I think Morfydd is amazing for being able to remember her lines especially when she’s doing onstage plays.

🗨️ MORFYDD SAID: I feel that acting really suits me because sometimes I struggle with a whole day rehearsal in a play, but film is very short moments of intense concentration. Then you can snap out of it. Also, the stakes are high. If I was going to have to do something boring like writing an essay, I can only do it under huge amounts of pressure and adrenaline. Being on set you have short bursts with pressure and it’s fun. In terms of learning lines, I will just wander around my flat or town saying them. There is no structure. I struggle when there is a structure enforced on me, that I can’t do. Within film, I am allowed to be fluid and structured within this world. I thought about that a lot with Maud. Because I thought, “Would I have been bullied a lot if I had been in an office, because I would just be annoying? Would I be fired a lot for being late?” (via ContentMode)

One of the remarkable aspects of ADHD is the ability to “Hyperfocus”. This so called superpower allows you to become intensely absorbed in a task, especially when it’s something you’re passionate about. For instance, Morfydd mentioned that when she first read the script for “Saint Maud”, she was so engrossed that she finished it in one sitting. In this state, nothing can distract you—absolutely nothing! When I hyperfocus, I often lose track of time and my surroundings, completely unaware of people trying to get my attention. I imagine it’s the same for Morfydd when she’s acting.

If you have ADHD and aim to meet expectations—whether it’s graduating from school or university, maintaining a relationship, running a business, or keeping your job—your brain really has to work extra hard to compensate for lack of focus and distractibility. In short an ADHD brain tends to be a lot more fatigued, and stressed than your neurotypical brain. It can become more manageable by taking your prescribed medication, managing your time effectively, and setting up reminders. Recent studies offer helpful coping strategies, and support from friends and family is very important, too!

🗨️ MORFYDD SAID:  People with ADHD find it really hard to put effort into things that they don’t find interesting. So, it’s about finding the thing that your child or person with ADHD is passionate about and finding a way to make that part of your world.” (via ContentMode) It’s weird to have a diagnosis from seven. It makes you feel different or other, which feeds a fascination with brains and why people are the way they are. I’m kind to myself about stuff I find difficult, because I understand why. (via NZHerald)

There are many people, especially girls and women who struggle with this neurodevelopmental disorder and not know they actually have it. So, I do have a lot of love, respect and appreciation for Miv, especially that she talks about this publicly, and reminding others that, ‘it’s okay’. With that, I have been reminded to be kinder to myself. I was never okay with having ADHD, but when people like her talk about it, I feel not so alone anymore. 🥀

Thanks to:  Morfydd Clark, ContentMode, NZHerald, The Observer, The Upcoming, BFI, Harper's Bazaar UK, Carl Marsh, BAFTA, WalesOnline, ADDITUDE

[kyushiblast]

Howdy! Could I request a platonic grusha with a reader who maybe gets into an accident during his snowboarding gym challenge? Not just taking a tumble or anything, like rocks fall or something and you break a limb.

Im not really sure what kind of genre this would count as... hurt/comfort, I suppose????

Idk. I just like giving my favorite characters heart attacks 🙃

⤷ 〝 reminders and you. 〞

➞ pairing : grusha x gn! reader

➞ summary : you get injured during grusha’s gym challenge.

➞ genre : hurt to comfort

➞ cw / other : bad injury mention , DO NOT RAG ON MY TAKE ON GRUSHA’S PERSONALITY OK , not proofread

➞ a/n : ahah we are very alike. I’M SORRY there are some non platonic parts in here i couldn’t help myself — GOSH this could’ve been so much better. again, i'm sorry.

you and grusha were friends on good terms. he’d heard from you plenty on how excited you were to face him despite battling him unofficially many times before.

he’d then reminded you about his gym challenge, which led to him teaching you the basics.

everything should’ve been fine. you should’ve passed with flying colors, you should’ve been able to battle him. but as grusha watched from above, he witnessed himself the event.

a couple of rocks flew your way from a bunch of whatever pokémon play-fighting, ranging from the size of a bergmite to a literal cetoddle. it was hectic.

this was early in the morning, so the snow tossed around from the first hit was easily seen throwing you off and landing you in the snow. grusha, without thinking, leapt from his position and sped towards your body. you were practically suffocating in the snow, the amount on top of you along with the heavy rocks against your one leg preventing you from getting up.

everything ached. grusha’s voice sounded so far away, even as he wiped the snow away from your face and got his pokemon to help get the rocks off.

yelling. ambulances. people carrying you away. grusha’s hand entwined with yours (as he’d taken off his glove to do so) in a protective, worried manner. and you’d just noticed your tears falling down onto the stretcher, warm compared to the coldness in your chest.

meanwhile, grusha was having an inward panic attack. why did it always have to be with snowboarding? he could’ve prevented this—he could’ve had the common sense to rid the pokémon around in case of something like this happening. but no—he just watched you. watched the fall, watched your bleeding and crippled form from those stupid rocks and the icy mountain’s hand in all of this.

he gripped onto your hand like it was a form of life support, no matter how embarrassing it would be to explain it later. he was focused on the flashbacks of what happened to him before, his state and his life turned upside down because of one mistake.

but he promised to himself that whatever happened next, he’d be next to you through it all.

the ride felt like a time to reflect. reflect on childhood and whatever led you to this. “if i go out like this,” you thought to yourself, “at least it’ll be by grusha…”

like souls melded together, your thoughts were mostly on the other on the journey to the hospital.

he’d expected this, but couldn’t help but cringe anyways at the diagnosis.

fractures, a concussion, internal suffering, and so on—surgeries were unavoidable and inevitable. but to him you handled it all like a champ, thankful that the doctors here were skilled and handy at their jobs.

grusha was relieved you were alive. the doctors had said you were lucky, and he couldn’t have thanked his lucky stars more for you.

his calm demeanor slowly returned in the lobby as he waited patiently for them to call him back. he got news that you’d have to stay overnight, which he was also expecting. and so he decided to stay with you as comfort.

he carefully opened the door to your room, the place dimmed and your eyes closed for sleep—or as he thought.

it’d surprised him when he saw your fingers wiggle a little, as if reaching out but suppressed by lack of energy (which was probably accurate). he gently took your chilly hand, warming it up with his now put on glove. you’d tugged at the material, though, and so grusha took it off.

his fingers, surprisingly soft and less cracked than you’d think them up to be, moved in soothing gestures against your own. your mind was still in a daze, but you knew that this feeling with him felt fuzzy and warm. a moment you’d want to last forever under different circumstances in which you hadn’t injured yourself.

after some contemplation, he leaned forward to lightly kiss the top of your hand before shying his head away.

he’d stayed holding your hand until you’d fallen asleep, his cue to fall asleep on the chairs next to the bed despite the uncomfortable feeling.

grusha’s happy to say that he was fully available on the day you were discharged. on other days, he’d visit you in the hospital with the days cut short because of one thing or another. but because of a well needed day off, grusha appeared on the day and helped you get back to the outside world.

you got back your pokemon from grusha, who’d you’d loaned them to to take care of while you were hospitalized. they’d visited too along with him, always clingy and fussy over you.

you were supposed to use a special cast for a while, but it was better than staying holed up in that musty room with nothing to do and talk about scheduled dosages and surgeries all the time. much better.

with grusha by your side, you were going to go back to your usual routines and finally be able to battle him.

all this for a battle. spoiler alert, you win.

work of kyushiblast , please do not translate , copy , or repost here or on any other platform !!

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Doc Is In 🩺 | Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell Imagine

Takes place during TGM

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x doctor!reader (romantic), dagger squad (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, slight profanity, mentions of medical operations | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 2.7k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @wildellaa 🤍)

Premise: Funny how a routine checkup after a near-death experience can lead to sudden revelations. For the dagger squad, this revelation comes in the news their infamous instructor happens to be quite close to the new base physician…who happens to be a high ranking Air Force personnel.

Note: I’m sorry by how long this took and I apologize if its bad/weak 🥹 I started a new job (my first job every) and it’s been a wild couple weeks but I promise I’m coming back! Also side note- the joke I added about the Air Force Dress Blues is an actual jab the branches use against the Air Force 😂 my mom was in the AF for 24 years and hated the Blues after they changed the uniform.

———————————

“Are you feeling any lightheadedness, nausea, or ringing in your ears?” Nat squinted against the light shining in her eyes, but adjusted before answering.

“No, just a little shaken. That’s all.” She kept her gaze forward as instructed, blinking once the light turned off. A light chuckle left the physician's lips.

“I would expect so after what you just experienced,” her smile was kind, jotting down notes on the pad beside her. “Normal behavior, but if you feel any of the symptoms I just listed at any point let me know. It doesn’t appear you have a concussion but we can never be too careful. And no visible sign of injuries to the chest or torso, indicating you had a more graceful landing than most pilots I see.”

“Is emergency ejections a common occurrence for you, Colonel?”

The woman chuckled, “You’d be surprised. Between the Air Force and Navy, my resume with treating you a lot doesn’t seem to be slowing down anytime soon.” She goes to the computer to enter the report, “Most cases involve broken or bruised ribs. But thankfully you appear in good shape. We just wanna watch out for any changes regarding your head.”

Nat nodded, moving to zip up her flight suit while the physician, an Air Force Colonel, the highest ranking for Air Force officers, with the last name L/n-Mitchell, wrote up the report notes on the computer.

Huh, funny how she shared the same last name as her boss.

“Your vitals are normal, no visible external injuries, and no sign of a concussion,” she repeated, fingers typing away, “but again we’ll keep an eye on those. I’ll get you and Lieutenant Floyd checked in for overnight observation—in the meantime is there anyone I can call to bring you anything you might need?”

“No need,” Nat waved a hand, “They’re all out in the lobby waiting for an update.” Rooster had sent her a text saying they had her and Bob’s things from their locker and food from the base Exchange.

Colonel L/n-Mitchell chuckled, “I’ll go grab them for you two.” She goes to the edge of the curtain, speaks to the person on the other side briefly before moving the fabric away to release the divide between the two spaces. When she does so the curtain reveals a pale-faced Bob on the opposite side.

“You good, Floyd?” Nat asks, untying her boots to make herself comfortable since she was to stay the night. Her answer was a groan.

“I might have thrown up a couple times.”

“What’s the diagnosis?”

“Just the case of my stomach being flipped upside down,” Bob leans back until he’s sprawled out on the bed. “I’m surprised I didn’t crap my pants.” Phoenix cringed, but bit back a laugh.

The Colonel placed her pen in her front pocket, smiling at the aviators, “I’ll be right back with your friends. Hang tight.” She opened the front curtain and disappeared, combat boots echoing with each step.

Bob and Nat waited about five minutes tops when she returned with Jake, Bradley, Mickey, Reuben, and Javy. “They’re in one piece,” she teased, moving to the side so they could all greet each other.

“We got your favorite,” Jake lifted a bag from Subway. Pulling out two sandwiches for Nat and Bob. They thanked them and started showing down when the curtain drew back again to reveal Pete.

“Sorry I’m late,” eyes instantly go toward the physician causing a smile to form on his lips. “Well this is a surprise.” Her own smile appeared.

“I told you I was transferring here.” The statement had all eyes, minus Bradley’s go wide. In fact Bradley mirrored Mav’s happy expression. Indicating he had some sort of familiarity to the Colonel.

Pete shocked them even more when he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I was expecting to see you next week,” he lets his eyes wander her uniform clad figure, grinning from ear to ear. She was in her Air Force ABUs, “Did you get in last night?”

“I did. Got settled at tlf, was planning on surprising you tonight but it looks like fate had other ideas,” she giggled, accepting his kiss causing gasps to ring out. “I take it this bunch belongs to you?”

“Hold the phone,” Javy said what everyone was thinking. He pointed at Mav, “You,” then pivoted to the woman, “And you are….”

She finished for him, “married.”

“Married!”

“I missed some chapters.”

“You never said you were married,” Phoenix stated, not seeing a wedding ring on either of their hands. It was common for military personnel to not wear rings due to their jobs, but surely Maverick would’ve mentioned in passing.

“I thought you guys knew.”

Javy scoffed, “We sure did not. Let alone to the base physician.”

“New base physician,” she corrected, “I just transferred here so really no one would have known. Although,” she turns to Bradley, “I thought you would’ve said something, Bradley.” The pilot just shrugged and mumbled how his thoughts were occupied with Nat and Bob. “Anyway, it is nice to meet you all. Sorry we had to become acquainted in these circumstances.”

The pilots were flabbergasted. First to find out that their instructor was married, and second to discover it was to a full bird Colonel.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Colonel,” Jake began, not used to addressing Air Force personnel. The Navy’s equivalent to a full bird colonel was Captain. Which happened to be her husband's rank. And generally when licensed physicians enter the Air Force they’re automatically ranked Captain or Major. So it made him wonder how long Pete’s wife had been in the Air Force to reach the rank of Colonel. “But where were you before coming to Miramar?”

“Vandenberg.” Ah, the Air Force Base up north in central California. One of the largest bases in the country and satellite home of both NASA and SpaceX.

Not to mention in the last two decades it had several shark attacks on its beaches.

The next hour consisted of the squad asking the couple several questions including the typical, “how long have you two been together?” “Have you always been in the Air Force?” And “Why haven’t you mentioned you were married, Captain?”

“Again, I thought you knew,” Mav reinstated, slightly flustered from the knowing look he received from his wife.

“We’ve been married ten years,” Y/n explained with a smile. “Though we’d been friends for some time. So…” she brought a finger to her lips, “I wanna say it was 2004 when we met for the first time. I had just commissioned.”

“What did you come in as?”

“Captain,” she answered Payback, “well, Lieutenant in your case.”

“And how long have you been a full bird, ma’am,” Mickey’s eyes were full of curiosity. He thought it was so cool his instructor was the highest officer rank for the Navy and married to the highest officer rank of the Air Force.

“About three years,” her face was full of pride, as was Mav’s. “And to answer your question from earlier; no, I hadn’t joined until after six years of being a civilian practitioner following my residency.” If they were to do the math, it would put Y/n at graduating from both high school, college, and med school one year early.

Oh she was smart smart.

One could guess by the John Hopkins and Duke University class rings on her fingers.

“I gotta ask,” Mickey looked between the two, grin already forming. “Do you ever have rivalry?”

“You mean because of Air Force vs Navy?” Y/n laughed. “Of course we do. Especially during college football season.” Pete laughed with her.

“You’re outnumbered here, darling.”

She playfully scoffed, “It’s only fair since you were back in Lompoc.” Turning to the pilots who were holding back smiles she added, “fifteen years and things don’t seem to change. I hope,” she motions a hand between them, “we can find some civility. All things considered.” Of course it was a joke, the branch rivalry and all that. But Y/n loved a good friendly bicker and the squad seemed to also.

“Just don’t wear your Blues around here,” Javy started, “unless you wanna be called a flight attendant.” The entire room erupted in laughter, Y/n pointing a finger as if to say, ‘Good one.’ She hated how the Air Force Dress Blues looked. It was the running joke between the branches and she couldn’t blame it.

Every time she had to wear them when flying she was stopped by people asking where to find their gate.

Hangman let out a whistle after they all calmed down. “When I woke up this morning I didn’t expect It end with meeting Mrs. Mitchell?” The couple shared a look, a smile on Y/n’s face.

“I prefer Doctor Mitchell.”

Pete went into detail of how the two met—which had Nat snapping her head to Y/n only to receive a wink.

No wonder she mentioned chest injuries as a theme when dealing with pilots.

It was a stellar retelling of how the man decided to defy yet another Admiral resulting in him ejecting from a high speed plane over a mountain range. Y/n had recently commissioned and was sent to Langley Air Force Base in Virginia, but was TDY to Oceana Naval Base for a seminar. Seeing she was the most qualified and only personnel available at the time, she was to conduct Pete’s medical examination.

“So,” she mused at the name on the clipboard, not bothering to pay him a glance as he sat on the bed. “You’re the infamous Pete Mitchell everyone has been buzzing about.” Beelining to the computer, Y/n heard a deep chuckle.

“Guilty.”

The response led to a roll of the eyes, focusing on the screen in front of her, “Are you experiencing any nausea, dizziness, lightness of the head?”

“No.”

“Ringing in the ears, distortion of the eyesight, or pain in any area?”

“No, ma’am.”

The clicking of the mouse rang with each check off the electronic list, “It says you made physical contact with the ground when you landed. Are you feeling any discomfort in your chest or abdomen?”

Pete shook his head despite her not looking at him, “just a little soreness and a bruised ego. But other than that I’m good.” Biting back a grin, Y/n grabbed the stethoscope and began to turn.

“Well we can't be too careful now can we?” Upon settling her gaze on Pete Mitchell, Y/n felt an instant ‘Woah’ to her otherwise relaxed composure. Freezing for a bare second as their eyes locked before remembering where she was, stepping to his side to begin her evaluation.

Only her heart was beating a little faster than the average rate.

The nurse had already taken Pete’s vitals. Blood pressure, temperature, and all that. Now it was time for Y/n to conduct a more thorough scan.

“Deep breath for me, please,” were her instructions, the scope on his back, “And tell me if you feel any pain.”

Pete, hoping the skip in his own heart goes unnoticed by the doctor, does as he’s told. A slight wince causes her brows to raise in concern, “Commander?”

He clears his throat, “Yes, sorry. I feel a little tense.” She steps away from him, asking to point out the area. She places the scope lightly where he locates the discomfort.

“Deep breath, slow this time,” leaning in, Y/n pays close attention to the sound thumping against her ears. “Inhale.” Pete draws in a breath. “And exhale,” he winces again. Removing the stethoscope, the Captain instructed him to lean back until he was laying down.

“Would you mind unzipping your flight suit, Commander Mitchell?” Pete was left in his undershirt, suit unzipped to his hips allowing Y/n to lift the material to assess his chest. She was trying not to look flustered at her obvious attraction to the man. He had to have been nearly ten years older than her, probably in his 40s to her mid thirties.

Still, he was quite the looker. And without a ring on his finger.

The light purplish-yellow swelling on Pete’s torso was an indication he sustained more than just a damaged ego. “By my accounts, Commander, it appears you have acquired at least one if not two bruised ribs,” she lifts his shirt back down, helping him sit up, “I’m impressed you’ve managed to hide the pain you’re experiencing.”

Pete flushed, “I’m used to it. Feels no more than a tickle nowadays.” Y/n snickers, returning to the computer to log the report, “Well you certainly live up to your reputation.”

“I try to,” Pete winked, sending a ripple of warmth through Y/n. Quickly she shook it off to remain professional.

“I’m putting you on bed rest for at least three weeks. Considering this isn’t your first rodeo, I assume you know it takes three to six weeks for bruised ribs to heal completely before going about any physical activities.” Taking a pad to write down his prescription, Y/n continued, “over the counter ibuprofen works fine, but I’m gonna go ahead and prescribe you with Naproxen which is basically Aleve. Cold compress for ten to twenty minutes each day and I would recommend you coming back to the physician on duty for a green light before getting back in the box, Commander.”

Pete makes a face, tilting his head slightly, “You won’t be giving me the green light,” eyes flicker to the ranks on her collar, realizing they were indeed Air Force and not Navy ranks, “Captain?”

His question has her smile, albeit sadly, “Unfortunately I will be back at Langley, Commander. I only assessed you because everyone else on duty was occupied.”

Well that instantly had Mav deflate, stomach sinking at the thought of not being able to see her beautiful face again. Already the pilot was becoming smitten. He wanted to learn more about Y/n, like her career and the things that make her laugh and smile. The type of food she ordered and what she envisioned her life would be like.

“How long are you in town?” He couldn’t help but ask. It made her lips curl up.

“Till Sunday.” It happened to be Wednesday. Allowing the two half of week to allow the sparks starting to form to ignite into fireworks.

One can best believe Mav and Y/n took the opportunity once it was in their grasp. It started with lunch on Thursday to dinner on Friday and a late night drink at the bar on Saturday. By Sunday Y/n left with a light heaviness to her chest that was amended with the fact Pete’s number was in her phone and they had made plans to meet again. Langley and Oceania were not far in distance, so there was hope for the two.

And it was very well received.

The next five years were endless bliss. They had done the distance back and forth for some time and were lucky when they got duty stations near each other, but it wouldn’t be until they married that the Air Force and Navy would station them together or within the same state.

With Y/n as a licensed physician she could be sent to any base, be that Air Force, Navy, or Army. Working through the ranks at an impressive rate. Every base wanted her at their clinic then of course local hospitals were fighting to get her on their board. Then there was Mav as the Navy’s best fighter pilot with a reputation they both loath and admire. Sometimes they were at a base for six months to a year. Other times they didn’t even unpack the boxes.

Let’s just say….Pete lost count of the amount of disapproving looks when he fucked up.

“Seriously, Pete? Again?” Her eyes remained on the paperwork in front of her, arms crossed across her chest while her boyfriend pouted on the opposite side of the table. “We haven’t even been here for a year.”

“I know, but……” he paused, unsure if he would make it worse with his defense. “You did say you hated it here and wish to be reassigned.” He was met with a groan.

“That didn’t mean I gave you the green light to piss off your boss! Again!”

On their five year anniversary, Mav made sure it was one to remember. Following a long day at work all he said to Y/n was to change and met him in the car. Overlooking his typical Levis and white tee, she asked, “Any particular way I should dress?”

“Cute and cozy,” he kissed her cheek, “just like you love.”

Say less. Throwing off her Abu’s Y/n put on a sweater dress since it was chilly and simple shoes. Finishing off the look with one of Pete’s bomber jackets knowing he loved when she wore them. Evident by the smirk on his lips.

Driving down to their fav outdoor bar and grill they ordered appetizers and drinks while enjoying the live music and setting sun. Afterwards he took her to one of their favorite spots in the park. It was filled with lights and fountains, stars twirling from the sky above.

When it came time to present Y/n with the ring, Mav took her hands in his, got down on one knee and relayed a speech straight from his heart that brought tears to both their eyes.

“What do you say, Mrs. Mitchell?” He ended with a cheeky smile, the diamond ring sparkling from within its velvet boxed.

Teary eyed and grinning from ear to ear, Y/n leaned down to kiss him on the lips. “I prefer Doctor Mitchell.”

………………

Tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan , @caitsymichelle13 , @poppyalice2001 , @cutelittlepotatofry , @luckyladycreator2 , @americaarse , @elenavampire21 , @back-tooo-black , @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris

[thewritetofreespeech]

prompt: you’ve been feeling under the weather, and Byakuya fears the worst

It felt very awkward. Sitting here, in a thin robe, on a lofted table, waiting for the doctor to come back.

You had been very fortunate in your life to not be bothered with much ailment or injury. So, your experience with doctors was limited. Recently, however, you had been feeling more and more run down. Chronic headaches. Sudden bouts of dizziness when you stood up too quickly. You had brushed it all off, attributing it all to working too hard. But when you woke up and suddenly vomited even before breakfast, Byakuya had had enough and called for a physician.

“You really didn’t have to take off work.” You comment during the lull. Your husband sitting beside your table, stoic as ever, as you both waited on the doctor.

“Renji can handle it for a day.”

“You’re going to be sorry when it’s nothing and he’s burned the place down.” You reply maliciously.

“I would still like to stay.”

You huff and cross your arms. There was no get out of this.

Although you found this all incredibly tedious, Byakuya had made up his mind and that was that. You supposed it was just easier to humor him than anything else, but it was still so frustrating to waste time sitting here and being treated like a child.

The door opened and the doctor came in. You have half a mind to ask him what took so long. Since he was the private physician of the Kuchiki family, it wasn’t like he had other clients to see, but you decide against it.

“So what’s the diagnosis?”

“Well, first, let me assure you that it’s nothing to worry about.” He replied, with an off-putting grin that made your skin crawl. “This is a very common condition for couples. I’m surprised you haven’t come to me with this issue sooner.” Both you & Byakuya look confused and irritated by the doctor’s cryptic nature. He coughed once and apparently decided to be professional. “Lady Kuchiki is with child. Fairly early based on the symptoms and standard tests, but let me be the first to congratulate you both on an heir to the Kuchiki line!”

There was a loud ringing in your ears. Pregnant. Pregnant? You were pregnant. You were pregnant right now. Sitting here, in this moment, right now, you were pregnant.

“I’ll leave you two alone to talk.” You barely register what the doctor was saying, but the snap of the door hitting the frame seemed to break you out of your spell.

“Well….that is something…” You feel a hand wrap around yours in your lap. Feeling it shake against you.

You turn your head towards your husband whose other hand was covering his eyes. His lower face twisted in pain. A single tear escaping. “…Byakuya?”

“I’m so relieved.”

The sound of grief in his voice when he choked out those words almost made your heart stop.

You forget sometimes about Hisana, his first wife. Her picture was still in the shrine, along with his parents & grandfather, but Byakuya doesn’t like to talk about her. On the rare occasion he does it’s only ever about how she liked plum blossoms, and his guilt on not being able to save her from her illness.

Suddenly you felt very selfish. You had been fighting about going to a doctor for a simple examination, all the while Byakuya was probably terrified his worst fear was happening again.

You slid off the table in a single hop and come around to in front of Byakuya to wrap him in your arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how this might be affecting you.” His arms wrap around your waist in return. Holding you tight. As if he needed to know you were there. “But…this is a good thing. We can be happy now. We know what’s wrong and…we’re having a child.”

“A child.” Byakuya repeated. A dampness was felt on your robe when he pulled away from your breast. Yet somehow, he looked as he always did when he turned up at you. “We have a child.”

“Your family will be so pleased.” You jest as you stroked his long hair. “I’ve finally fulfilled my destiny to the Kuchiki line. My life is complete.”

“Nonsense.”

His muttering was a testament to how little he cared about his extended family’s opinion. Duty and honor aside, he cared very little about anyone’s input than you and Rukia. And soon, you supposed, your child.

“Can we go now?” You ask now that you have gotten your answers. “It still all hasn’t sunk in, and I’d like to be at home in our rooms in case I spontaneously burst into tears.”

Byakuya smiled, then leaned up to give you a kiss before he stood to leave the room. Respecting your privacy and modesty.

You change out of the drafty robe provided and back into your clothes. Catching site of your form in a mirror and get a mental flash of it changed from what it was now to one swollen and heavy with child. You quickly finish dressing and make an insistence for Byakuya to take you home. Before the tears started. 

[simslegacy5083]

Today's (11/19/2024) Episode: Harrowing Circumstances

As a staff member pulled out a mop, a very concerned Noemi and Luigi slid into the booth with their sick son, who promptly burst into tears.

“I ruined everything yesterday.” Skye sobbed. “I didn’t want to tell you I wasn’t feeling good and ruin today too! You were so excited and having so much fun!”

“Oh Skye, you didn’t ruin anything sweetie.” Noemi assured him “Yesterday was a rough day for everyone, me crashing the plane and your dad getting lost with you in the caves. We all needed a restful night at the dwelling after that!”

Skye looked up in surprise as she continued “We never want you to hide how you’re feeling. If we don’t know you’re sick, we can’t help you get better” …and if we end up dragging you around a theme park all day, we might make you worse she finished silently.

“Next time you’ll tell us right away when something bad happens, promise?” Luigi asked, ruffling Skye’s hair as he nodded glumly.

“Its OK” Noemi continued, “but I think we need to postpone this party just a little bit so we can go to the first aid station and see what they can do to help.” “Luckily, you shouldn’t age up accidently while we’re there…” Luigi added “Birthday rule number one, always leave a buffer!”

The trio made it to the first aid station but didn’t stay long. “Based on his symptoms I’m going to recommend you teleport to the hospital to get him examined by a doctor” the medic said, “this looks like a classic case of Itchy Plumbob to me and we aren’t equipped to treat that here.”

Luigi helped Skye stumble towards the teleporter to Magnolia Medical Center while Noemi called The Dwelling to let them know that the Lawbournes would be ending their vacation early. “This place always amazes me” she said as she hung up “They’re going to pack up the cake and deliver it to us at the hospital! Skye, they told me to tell you everyone is sorry you’re not feeling well and are wishing you a speedy recovery.”

The doctor confirmed the medic’s diagnosis of Itchy Plumbob. “I’m sorry to say that the only treatment is surgery.” she told them “I’ll get the nurse to bring in some forms for you to sign authorizing the procedure and then we’ll get started”.

Luigi wasn’t thrilled at the idea of his son being operated on, but a quick internet search confirmed the providers assessment. “I know SimMD tells everyone that every case of the sniffles means they’re going to die, but in this case, it seems surgery really is necessary” he told Noemi.

While Luigi carefully read over the surgical consent form, Noemi held Skye’s hand as the doctor explained the procedure in a child friendly manner. One more round of tears from the patient and a kiss for good luck from his parents later and Skye was wheeled off down the hall to the OR.

“OK now, be careful… are you sure you’re feeling up to this?” Noemi asked worriedly as Luigi helped their son out of bed early the next morning. “I’m OK mom, really” Skye replied. “Anyway, its gotta be done” Luigi reminded her “We’re almost out of time.”

They didn’t have to go far. Skye’s cake was waiting for him on the small dining table just across from the bed in his recovery room. 🎵Ooboo Vroose Baa Dooo… 🎵his parents sang with all the cheer they could muster as their little boy blew out his candles and spun his way into teendom.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[bullet-prooflove]

LittleMouse!Series Part Six: The Hours In Between - Alden Parker x Reader

Tagging: @mandy426  @neapolitantoebeans @yezzyyae

LittleMouse!Series

Don't... - Alden hates what your doing.

Waiting - You leave your ex waiting.

In Sickness & In Health - Alden and your ex sit down to discuss you.

Bordeaux - You come home to an unexpected surprise.

Acts of Violence - Alden walks into a nightmare.

The next few hours flash by in a haze of chaos, noise and florescent lights. There’s too much commotion around you, too much activity. You can’t make sense of what’s happening because all you can focus on is the pain that emanates from the place where Kristof had stabbed you with the stem of a broken wineglass. You slip in and out of consciousness during this time, snatching at pieces of reality.

“You’re in the hospital.” Alden tells you during a brief moment of lucidity. “They’re prepping you for surgery.”

The darkness is already rushing back in again before you can open your mouth to respond.

You keep going back to that moment in the apartment, the one where everything changed. You can’t believe how quickly it escalated. There’s never been a threat of violence from Kristof before, not until tonight.

“You can’t just break into my apartment and make yourself at home.” You’d snapped at him when he tried to hand you the glass of Bordeaux.

“What else am I supposed to do?” He’d asked you, setting it down on the coffee table. “You won’t meet with me, take my calls, answer my texts...”

“You aren’t picking up the hint?” You return, running your hands through your hair in frustration. “I do not want to speak to you.”

“Not even after what Parker told you?” Kristof asks incredulously, his hands coming to rest on his hips. “Because he did tell you, didn’t he?”

You’d sank into the armchair then because you’d begun to see where this pathological desire for contact comes from. The thing about Kristof? He’s a powerful man, he’s used to other people doing his bidding and when they don’t, he acquires leverage, he forces them to bend to his will. This diagnosis isn’t something you can combat and that makes him feel helpless. You can see that he’s spiralling, he’s used to being in control and now that’s been snatched from him.

“I’m sorry that you’re sick.” You tell him, gesturing for him to take a seat on the couch across from you. “It must have been a shock.”

“It was.” Kristoff tells you as he sits down. He picks up the Bordeaux, his thumb chasing along the curvature of the wine glass. “In that moment it’s like the world just stopped and everything I had done up until that point it didn’t matter.  It feels like I’m staring down the barrel of a gun and I…”

He’d shaken his head then before his gaze flickered up to meet yours.

“This is the first real conversion I have had about it. You are then only one I can let see this part of me, the only one I trust to be vulnerable around. That’s why I need you…”

You see your mistake almost immediately. You’d forgotten what it was like to be around Kristof, how he manipulates the situation to suit him. He’s intentionally pulling on your heart strings, strumming them the same way he did back then. The difference is you’ve grown now, moved on, you know how to set boundaries.

“That’s not going to happen Kris.” You say firmly. “We’ve been divorced three years now and it took me a long time to recover from what you did to me. You’ve never held yourself accountable for any of it, not the games, not the women…”

“You want me to say I’m sorry?” He interrupts you, his voice filled with ire. “Fine I’m sorry, but you were sad all the fucking time. What was I supposed to do when you decided you didn’t want to put out?”

You lose your shit then because the audacity of this man astounds you.

“My friend had just died. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to go down on you to help ‘relieve’ a little stress before the Congressional Dinner.”

“That’s not…” He trails off, the muscle in his cheek twitching because the reason the two of you had gotten divorced was because you’d walked in on him fucking a Whitehouse Aide in your bed after picking up his tuxedo.  “That’s not what I came here to talk about. I need you to come back…”

“And I need you to get the fuck out.” You were on your feet at that point already heading back to grab your phone. “Fuck, I’ll call Metro myself.”

It’s the threat of a scandal that tips him over the edge. The idea of him being dragged out of his ex-wife’s apartment in handcuffs for breaking and entering. You suspect in that moment he saw his future, declining health, his reputation in tatters and he blamed you, the woman who refused to be controlled by him anymore.

It had become a fight for your life after that because you had no doubt that he wanted to kill you. You could see it in his eyes.

When you wake up, it’s with an intense agony in your left side and a dry mouth. You try to move your hand to pull off the oxygen mask on your face but Alden’s already intervening. His fingers gently curl around yours, guiding your hand back down as he raises to his feet so that you can see his face. You can’t describe how comforting you find his presence so instead you squeeze his hand lightly.

“Welcome back, sweetheart.” He says fondly, his lips brushing over your hairline. “Trust me, you’ve been missed.”

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[hayanwulf]

WIP game! How to Kill your Dragon

(WIP game)

Click here for the first and second parts of this WIP.

I did not think that so many people would be interested in the dragon fic, so color me surprised.

If you've read the first part, in it Stephen has recently escaped captivity as a dragon and unintentionally killed the Starks.

Aaand if you've read the second part, Stephen's pack is very much aware that he's a dragon, even if he thinks that they don't know.

Here's a snippet of what happens when he finally manages to get back to his hometown after that event at the prison.

-

Peter slowly broke their embrace, shaking his head at Stephen’s words. “You’re hurt,” he said in that same quivering voice, a tentative hand reaching towards Stephen’s throat.

“I’ll be alright,” Stephen said, stopping Peter’s hand.

“Stephen!”

He flinched at Christine’s voice from afar, already preparing to run again. He tried to get Peter to stop leaning on him.

“Peter! Stop him!”

“What!? What is—”

Stephen had extricated himself from Peter, but as he tried to run, Peter grabbed him by the arm and kept him pinned with impossible ease. How and when did his son get that super strength!? Stephen was a dragon, for crying out loud.

“Wait! What’s going on!?” Peter asked in confusion. “Why are you trying to—”

“Stephen!” Christine growled when she had finally caught up to them, then went on to grab Stephen by the shoulders to inspect him from head to toe. “Vishanti, you’re bleeding!”

Stephen sighed in defeat. “Thank you for the diagnosis. I’m aware.”

“Why is your first instinct to run after seeing me when you’re bleeding all over!?” She nagged as she pulled at him to encourage walking. Stephen took a step forward, and almost keeled over from the herculean effort it took him, only saved by Peter. “By the Vishanti, Stephen, when was the last time you ate?”

“A bite or a full meal?” Stephen said and then immediately bit his tongue.

“A full meal!” Christine said incredulously as she and Peter came to his side to support him.

Stephen pointedly decided to not answer, letting the two of them help him walk and not faceplant himself on the ground. “Running was much easier just a minute ago..” Of course it was, because adrenaline.

Christine continued to nag him throughout the short journey to his home. He deemed it wise to just take it all without complain.

Lancelot barked at him as they neared his house.

When they were in front of his house, Levi leapt out of literal sky, landed near his feet, and started meowing loudly, rubbing herself against Stephen’s legs and almost making him trip thrice in the process.

Stumbling through the doors and halls, Stephen finally let himself fall on his bed, taking a deep sniff of the blankets and pillows that smelled like himself and Peter.

“Peter, can you get me some cotton, and sage and calendula extract?” Christine requested as she sat herself down next to Stephen and started to undo the cloth tied around his throat. “And water for him.”

Peter left to fetch her the things, while Stephen just laughed self-deprecatingly. “It won’t work,” he told her.

“Why?” She frowned, inspecting his gash, no doubt noticing the bleeding persisting through his sutures.

“It’s a week old.”

Christine’s eyes widened. “What!? Stephen..”

“It should have closed. Yes, I know. I’ve tried everything, it won’t even start clotting. It won’t heal at all. It’s placed some kind of curse on me.”

Christine had a conflicted look on her face, until it just melted into sadness, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. “Oh, Stephen.” She took one of his hands in hers, gently massaging the scars on its back.

Stephen found himself responding to the calming gesture and wrapped his fingers around hers, before sliding his wrist scent gland against hers. “You’re not going to ask me what happened?”

She pursed her lips, eyebrows still stricken with pain. “Do you want me to?”

Stephen blinked. He hadn’t expected such a reply. “I—I meant, aren’t you curious how I got myself into this?”

She inhaled a shaky breath through nose, exhaled through parted mouth. “It’s not about whether I’m curious. It’s about whether you’re ready to share.”

That, Stephen had not expected to hear at all.

No, he wasn’t ready.

And now, he would never be ready to reveal to anyone close to him, that he was the same dragon that had murdered the Starks.

He averted his gaze and looked away in shame.

[houseofbrat]

Terrible all around, for so many reasons. As a comms person I could do a series of Tedtalks about this.

Nevertheless I really pray for Kate’s recovery both physically and mentally.

Yes, its all very sad but could have been prevented with proper management. The Palace Comms Team needs an overhaul.

Exactly. This seems to contradict Kate’s message that she wanted to wait until they told their kids and now they say it’s because of a potential leak? Which is it then and why would they now blame a potential leak? Who does it benefit by changing the story now and why did they even bother to? It’s so bizarre.

I think it’s a bit naive to blame this on KP’s team. The team is only as good as their bosses and William is pretty inept at handling press

This to me has nothing to do with a leak and everything to do with Easter. They knew she wasn’t going to be present for Easter so they had to make an announcement and get out in front of it early.

This was my first thought as I watched Kate’s video. If not for the leak, they still would be silent.

The idea the rota is pushing is it’s all the public’s fault for wildly speculating, and it’s not sitting well with me. It was mostly jokes about Kate being at the Willy Wonka experience or that she was getting a BBL. Then they released the fake photo and AP flagged it.

The papers got pissed because there WAS a story and the Palace wasn’t feeding them, so they turned up the heat. Nobody was talking about Rose Hanbury until The Independent (I think that was the paper) ran that story “Who is Rose Hanbury?” and repeated the old rumors of the affair. And some other online news site ran a story asking what would happen if William committed a crime. And then you had Piers Morgan saying he has heard wild rumors and if even half of them were true, he was concerned.

Yes, there are nasty people out there who gossiped but the media help set this situation on fire. And KP completely bungled the PR response. But they need to spare us the “shame on you all” narrative.

Wishing Kate the best and I hope the people who accessed her medical info are held responsible.

It's the fake photo and AP killing it that set this whole thing into the stratosphere. Before that all noise was limited to a small corner of the internet. No fake photo and ninety-eight percent of mess that happened never would have happened. KP is responsible for the mess and no amount of scolding from the rota will change that.

Sometimes I wonder what their long-term plan was for this? Obviously Kate having cancer would mean she’d need more time away than what they previously let on, so if the conspiracies never took off and they weren’t under a ton of scrutiny, I wonder how/when they would have told the public about her diagnosis, if at all.

Considering how they’ve handled more minor health issues, like William having COVID, I just assume KP never wanted to be transparent in the first place and were forced. Which sucks for Kate but has bad implications for a publicly funded institution IMO.

I don’t think there was ever a longterm plan here. I think everyone was taking it one step at a time and trying to process and figure out what the next step would be.

I’m honestly surprised because I am sure Rebecca English said they didn’t have their hand forced. Plus there were two days between Wed and Friday and any leaks could have occurred then as well. I do think it was getting to the stage it was an open secret witch certain circles.

I don’t understand why this and the “were angry about speculation” stories have been leaked - if they’ve been leaked by W&K and not somebody else. Not going after the alternative theories with this comment rn.

Like, they do want this to die down, right? I’m assuming so, because Kate is sick. I’ve never really cared about her actual illness in this whole debacle, but cancer or not, in her shoes I’d want the least amount of speculation possible. And the “we’re angry about speculation post” before the reveal was not the way to do that. All that was going to do was increase the speculation because if there’s one thing the internet likes doing more than anything else, it’s doing behavior they’ve been told not to.

Now it’s been revealed that Kate has cancer and I think the whole slew of “you’re bad for speculating no matter what the speculation was, even if it wasn’t health-related” posts were bad because they encouraged talk about her even as they were saying people shouldn’t talk about her, but that wasn’t in W&K’s hands so I’m not gonna blame them for that. Either way, the gossip around her did die eventually.

But now they’re bringing it back up of their own accord, if this is them? Why? It was already said that people tried to access her info. If this inside source was BP, revealing this is just bad for the overall family image. It proves Harry was right once again. If it wasn’t, I guess I understand wanting to talk about the source, but it’s still giving attention that I don’t think would be wanted or needed right now.

This is what has fascinated me about the KP PR ever since this entire thing started. It just seems like completely weird decisions over and over and over again.

100% this is a situation of their own making. They literally exist to be seen- what did they think was going to happen if one of them just disappeared? They’re so angry at how everyone reacted but maybe they should take some time to self reflect and see how their own actions and life created this whole mess.

Because the PR/comms team is incompetent and their employers are stubborn with gigantic hubris.

The virtue signaling “everyone participating in the gossip and making jokes and sharing memes should be ashamed!” will never sit well with me. We’ve been shown time and again for decades at this point that their PR is very sloppy.

they're really trying to guilt trip the public for not knowing she had cancer after faking a photo documentation as an official government institution, aren't they?

look, if someone tried to access her.files that's criminal and should be prosecuted whatever. that's another issue. 

but the BRF cannot use fear of public speculation as a tool to divert us from the fact that they faked an image and tried to pass it off as real. this is incredibly problematic on many levels. not only we cannot trust them to pass on truthful info about themselves (which, with their history of throwing women to the wolves, is icky), but as british official representatives, they should be held to all possible standards.

on a personal level, i hope she recovers, her treatment isn't too terrible as in side effects and her kids are able to grow up with her love all around. 

but as someone with basic standards for media and government, and also a citizen of a democracy (in the global south, where we have been victims of rich countries' bullshit explanations), they can all fuck off with this take and blaming.

They even put out a statement around late January where they said she didn’t have cancer. They can’t be surprised that people thought something was up when they weren’t being entirely truthful.

King Charles's team announced he has cancer and just moved on, so did the public. I genuinely don't see why they couldn't have done the same for Catherine. A quick "we did surgery back in December, discovered i might have cancer, will be stepping off the public eye for a few months to seek treatment and spend time with kids" would've done it. Her team is not being asked for her to deal with her emotions in public, the public just wanted to know why she hasn't been seen from or heard from for a long time. They completely bungled this one.

[bmodiwrites]

I am on a cheesy movie kick & this is the direct result. It's corny and fluffy and not done yet. Check back for part 2 soon! Oh & leave a comment if you'd like to be on the tag list. I'll add you to part 2!

It all starts with Black Betty.

Steve is in his new rental studying for his comps when the loud music begins to play. Though it’s not the worst sound in the world, Steve’s brain focusing in on it is not ideal. He is renting a place off the mainland in hopes of getting through the slump of cramming without any distractions.

Clearly, that’s not going to happen, not even in this new place.

All is well until Molly starts to whine. Steve’s so in love with that dog that he immediately stops what he’s doing to investigate. “Are you still feeling bad, Molly girl?”

She stops whimpering when Steve puts a hand on her but she still seems a little off. Getting up from his chair, Steve prompts Molly to sit up when he notices it – there’s the smallest little swell to her stomach.

It takes no time at all for Steve to abandon his books and stalk out his back door, instead. There’s an unruly boy dog that lives in the house next door that Steve is absolutely positive is the culprit. Sweet Molly follows him out the door, though her steps are lethargic and slow, further driving home Steve’s diagnosis.

“Hey, excuse me – “ Steve says, practically shouting over the music.

He’s just mad enough not to notice the true beauty of the man sitting on an old wooden beach chair right away, though that changes quickly. Steve’s immediately transfixed by a thick head of dark brown curls and the biggest chocolate eyes he’s ever seen. A flare of lust settles in his belly – it’s the first one in a long, long time.

Though, that too is easily forgotten when Molly whines again and Steve remembers why he made the trek out of the house in the first place. By now, the music’s been turned down and his neighbor’s attention is completely on him.

“You’re my new neighbor, aren’t you? I’ve seen you watching me from the porch.”

Steve scoffs at the question, both because it’s annoying and the stranger’s voice is disgustingly hot. Is it too much to hope for a bad attitude to come from such a gorgeous creature?

“I haven’t been watching you. We live within 100 yards of each other, where else am I supposed to look?” There’s something so adorably obnoxious about the man before him that Steve continues, unable to decide if he’s truly upset or he just likes the fight they’re heading for.

His neighbor starts to laugh, even puts up both of his hands in surrender. “I’m just playing. I’ve noticed you, that’s all.”

“You’re hilarious,” Steve says, ignoring the beautiful man’s easy compliment.

“What’s say we start over, huh? You can have a seat and I’ll grab you a beer. As a peace offering.” His neighbor is almost out of his seat already when Steve gets himself back together enough to answer. He’s surprised how much he wants to ditch the books and join this rude man.

“I’m fine, honestly.”

“Oh, come on. Have a beer – I’m trying to be neighborly.”

“I don’t want one, thank you.” Steve reaches up to run a hand through his hair, a little exasperated. But, so does his neighbor. It’s almost like their movements are in sync.

The eeriness is hard to shake off.

“Well, I’m Eddie. And this little guy,” the man, Eddie, says as he reaches down to pet the dog Steve’s out here to complain about in the first place, “is Bugsy.”

Steve stares down at the dog in hopes that his lingering glare will relay his very unhappy message. Instead, the silence it causes is heavy. So much so that Eddie works to fill it in.

“This is usually where you tell me your name. Introduce yourself.”

Without thought, Steve shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Eddie is taken aback for the briefest of moments but eventually pushes on. “Then what can I do for you, neighbor? You sure looked amped up when you came barreling over here.”

Suddenly, Steve’s anger returns with a vengeance. “Your dog, that stink butt, knocked up my dog. My sweet little Molly!”

The smirk that takes over Eddie’s face is almost enough to have Steve swinging, but he holds onto his composure. He’s about to be a master’s graduate, fist fitting would be unbecoming.

Though, the urge is so very strong.

Especially when Eddie’s look turns into a laugh.

Things do not get any better after that. Steve is determined to pin Molly’s condition on the rascally dog, despite the knowing look Eddie has on his face. When the man tells him to check out one of the local vets in town, Steve almost chucks the card back into his neighbor’s face. While he knows he’ll be there bright and early the next morning, Steve isn’t very inclined to back down. Not even when he’s the obvious fool.

Which… becomes very apparent the next day when Steve walks into the vet’s office to see that Dr. Munson of Munson’s Veterinary Care is none other than Steve’s neighbor himself. His cocky smile makes Steve’s heart thump in his chest, though he swears it’s because of hatred, not burning desire.

In the end, Steve gives up his name and finds out that Bugsy is a fixed dog incapable of being the father to Molly’s puppies. He feels stupid enough that he doesn’t even insult Eddie when he so affectionately says, “you are the most bothersome person alive.” In fact, he’s a little weak for it.

Steve manages to keep his feelings under wraps for another couple of weeks before he’s desperate and goes running to Eddie for help. Molly’s been trying to deliver her pups for a while and nothing’s happening – other than her increasingly harrowing whimpers of pain. It’s gone too far and Steve knows Eddie will help.

Eddie, despite it being the middle of the night when Steve knocks, doesn’t hesitate to run across their yards and come to Molly’s aid. The pups are there within the next half an hour and Molly is once again safe and happy. Steve’s so overcome, he forgets to try and be upset with his rude neighbor.

Their banter is flirty instead of argumentative.

“Thank you so much for helping her. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” The admission makes Steve’s cheeks heat up, but he presses on. “Molly’s my girl.”

There’s a second where staring is the only thing that happens. Eddie’s big, brown eyes look at Steve as if he’s a puzzle that the man’s finally figured out. His gaze is so steady, Steve is disoriented when it eventually breaks.

Denying their chemistry after that is pretty futile. Steve makes dinner for Eddie the next night and the rest is history.

Steve graduates with Eddie by his side.

When the time comes that their relationship is put on trial, Eddie chases Steve down to bring him back home. Though, it’s with a shiny ring on his finger and a promise of forever that Steve wasn’t all that sure he had before.

They marry in front of the water that connects their two houses and keep them both, though Eddie’s place is their home base. Eddie adds another beat up wooden chair to his perch by the dock and their dogs find a way to cohabitate, despite Molly still not being Bugsy’s biggest fan.

Their family grows by one mouth a couple years later. Blue, their baby girl, is a happy accident that neither Steve nor Eddie is ever going to regret. Her arrival into the world is a whirlwind but they figure it out. Fatherhood, fortunately, fits them like a glove. Steve glows when he holds Blue and Eddie never stops making noises or funny faces to entertain the little girl.

It quickly becomes clear that just the one isn’t enough. Robin, always the reliable friend, offers to surrogate for them. It’s the best decision they’ve ever made. The little boy she gives birth to has big chocolate brown eyes that stare up at them. Travis comes home to a big sister and two dogs that love him from the moment Steve carries his car seat inside.

For all intents and purposes, things are amazing. Steve’s life is even better than he ever imagined it to be.

Except it’s not. Not really.

Eddie’s busy life at the clinic makes it easy for Steve to feel neglected. Between the hustle of having two kids and both of them working full time jobs, it’s hard to find some time for just the two of them. Especially when Eddie has trouble saying no to old ladies and their fickle cats.

After one missed date, Steve’s ready to make up for lost time. When he pulls into the restaurant for their makeup dinner and doesn’t see Eddie’s van, he tries not to get upset. Three glasses of wine later, Steve’s far past understanding and is mad as hell. He quietly pays the bill, seething on the inside.

He waits to unleash his ire until he’s in the car. “Eddie Munson, this is your husband calling. I can’t believe you stood me up on another date. That’s two now, baby. I need you to come bother me, Eddie. You’re never around – “

Steve’s stopped midsentence by a car slamming into the driver’s side door. His preoccupation makes him slow to react, though it’s futile, anyway. He tries hard to get his hands back onto the wheel, yet he’s already too late. The car rolls and turns and flips over with Steve along for the ride. The last thought he has before it all fades to black is of Eddie and his beautiful face.

He so desperately wanted to see him one last time.

[dragonholler]

Dear Eze - Growling in Gedira

Dear Eze,

A few months ago I adopted a little flame point kitten that I found in a dumpster outside of work. I’ve named her Blue. It was a rough start for both of us; she was working through trust issues, and I’ve never had a pet before, but we’ve adjusted. Now that we’ve gotten to know each other, she’s the sweetest thing in the world and the best part of my life.

But I’m obviously writing you for a reason.

When I first found her, Blue had all the appropriate numbers of toes, tail, and teeth for her size, but lately things have. . . changed. She’s grown a second tail, for one. She’s also started trying to break into my cold food locker to get at anything I’ve left curing. I’ve always fed her wet food mixed with kibble, following the recommendation of a friend who runs a farm with plenty of barn cats, but the amount of raw meat Blue is after seems excessive.

Then there are the behavioral challenges. Blue has grown protective of me since we’ve bonded, which is very endearing coming from a creature barely the size of a pomelo. Her growling, hissing, and swiping at strangers she found suspicious was manageable, and something I figured we’d work on by slowly introducing her to new people and other animals as she grew. I’ve taken to meeting my friends at their places or out in the city instead of having them over to give Blue time to adjust, and bringing over someone she knows every few days so we can practice our people skills.

And then the spitting started. I don’t know what else to call it.

Blue has adjusted to one of my friends already, which I thought was great progress and a sign that I could experiment with having more people over more often, maybe two at a time. But when a friend Blue didn’t know showed up at my house last week for a little dinner I was hosting, Blue reacted poorly.

I still don’t know exactly what she did, but my friend’s physician said that what hit him was some kind of energetic force. His shoulder is pretty badly bruised. From the outside it looked like Blue just scrunched up and hissed at him, as she usually does when first meeting someone new. Then she made a sort of spitting motion, and suddenly my friend was thrown into my front door. Honestly, Blue looked just as surprised as the rest of us when it happened.

Blue is still doing okay with people she knows, but I’ve cut down on new people for the moment. I’d like to take her to a vet or someone who might be able to tell me how my six month kitten threw a grown man across my apartment, but I don’t want Blue to hurt anyone else on accident, and I worry that leaving the house plus a new person prodding at her is not the best idea.

Do you have any advice on how I can figure out what is going on with my kitten or how we should proceed?

Thanks!

-Growling in Gedira

—

Dear Growling,

First of all, Blue sounds precious and adorable. Tell her hello from me!

Second, yeah, I wouldn’t try leaving the house with a cat that can psychically yeet people through the air and does it when she’s scared. That’s probably a later activity.

I’ll be entirely honest with you, I don’t think Blue is a cat. She sounds more like a species of psychic beast. There are a few variations, but the commonalities are usually: multiple tails and the ability to interact with the world through psychic force, and you’re two for two. Psychic beasts are also known for being deeply territorial and incredibly loyal to their “pack” or persons, and you’ve got that in your favor as well.

If I were you, I’d start with getting a more official diagnosis from someone who does this kind of thing for a living. Lucky you, you live in Gedira! A city known for it’s diverse population and businesses, I know of at least two medicus in your area who both specialize in magical creatures and make house calls.

Dr. Muckland works more often with working animals that live on farms and ranches surrounding the city, but quite a few of those are magical in nature so don’t let that stop you from reaching out. Then there is Dr. Aubrental. She works primarily in magical creature care and rescue, helping displaced creatures find appropriate homes that can support them appropriately. She’d be my first recommendation, largely because her specialization in trauma and support might be more helpful given Blue’s dumpster-origin and current temperament.

Outside of that it sounds like you’re doing exactly what you should be. You’ve clearly got a good idea of what it takes to help Blue feel secure, you’re easing her into socializing and doing what you need to do to keep her from hurting herself and others, all you need is a little expert support.

Keep doing what you’re doing, ask for help when you need it, and I think you and Blue will be just fine.

Best of luck!

-Eze C

[awetistic-things]

hi! i'm prof dxd autism, and i know you support self dx. i have some struggles understanding it, bc i guess,,, black and white thinking and i just,,, its very hard to make that connection, bc like, i want to support it but like theres also like, bad experiences with people claiming autism to weaponise something or all the news about fakers which might not even be true but like. im at the point where this is my view:

i support self suspecting a diagnosis, but not self diagnosis bc i think there needs to be some degree of seperation. like you can research one condition but have another, so self suspecting and accommodating is a good thing, but self diagnosis isn't because you don't have like, the full picture, and you need someone else to analyze it, so self suspect, not diagnosis. (sorry if not clear im kinda out of words rn)

but i also recognise that that view isn't really correct anymore, but im having trouble changing it so i guess what im asking is do you have any account to follow/things to read to support self diagnosis so i can change my views. totally cool if you dont want to tho. anyway bye! have a nice day. sorry.

hi 👋🏼

i can't find any specific blogs, but i do have a few things to say:

getting out of the black-and-white thinking is difficult, and i appreciate that you're trying to do so

self-diagnosing in general can be life-saving (when done right, which most of the time it pretty much is, regardless of what you see online) whether it comes to autism or breast cancer. so often, people get passed up and can't get what they desperately need due to discrimination within the medical community (and every community) so they have to take matters into their own hands

a lot of the time even when people go to get evaluated for autism, the doctor is the one who says they "suspect" the patient has autism and then don't give a diagnosis at all (happened to me three times before I got officially diagnosed) there are so many autistic people who go to get evaluated and get straight-up turned down right to their face, which usually leads them to self-diagnosing because there’s nobody willing to actually ‘analyze’ them in the first place (/nm, this reads as passive aggressive i think, but that’s not my intention, i promise /gen)

even if you are officially diagnosed there’s no telling that you’ll get any ‘analysis’ information after an evaluation (most of the time it’s just a paragraph or two) which is why self-diagnosing can be so incredible, because that’s when you get to analyze your own behaviors and traits and work through your internalized ableism so that if you do end up getting a diagnosis you’re not blindsided and have (hopefully) already accepted the fact that you are autistic

essentially what i’m trying to say is that so, so, so many psychiatrists and psychologists have internalized (or fully conscious) prejudice which heavily affects their analyzations and makes self-diagnosing so often times necessary

honestly, i think self-diagnosing is the first step in acknowledging and accepting that you’re autistic

i think many autistics who were officially diagnosed and were surprised by the fact that they’re autistic should look at it from a self-diagnosed autistics point-of-view

and by that i mean actually taking the time to forget whatever your doctor said about how you operate and instead analyze your life, because it’s yours, and nobody knows it better than you (especially from a 30 minute evaluation in a converted supply closet)

sorry if any of this came off as aggressive, it’s all genuine and i do very much appreciate you asking me this question and i hope my numerous different answers helped somewhat :)

[i-believe-in-melinda-may]

I thought i would struggle with this because Bill and Laura's relationship is in a different place, but it was easy, and i like it.

I'm posting here if you want to read the full version: (posted version is about 25 chapters behind) https://archiveofourown.org/works/52392649

“We need to talk,” Laura informs Bill.

“Sure,” Bill says as he really wants to talk to her, not seeing that what Laura wants to talk to him about is something completely different, and Elosha, Saul and Baltar leave, but EJ and Lee stay, assuming that their parents will talk in front of them.  

“Alone,” Laura adds, looking between her kids.

“All right then,” Lee says, feeling curious, but following orders, while EJ looks like she is going to argue.

“EJ..” Laura starts to say, but she doesn’t get further than her daughter’s name because EJ recognizes the tone.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go,” EJ says, throwing up her hands, before following her brother out of their father’s quarters, Lee closing the hatch behind them so that their parents can talk privately.

“What did Cottle say?” Bill asks, once the kids are out of the room, as while they clearly have something very important to talk about, finding out what Laura was told in her appointment is even more important to him.

“It’s not good news,” Laura admits, feeling that Bill deserves to know that. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,” Laura admits.

“Laura….” Bill starts to say, looking worried at her.

“No now, Bill, please,” Laura requests, and as she is avoiding the topic Bill realises that the news must truly be bad.

“Okay,” Bill says, deciding not to push her harder to talk about her diagnosis even though he desperately wants to. “What did you want to talk about?” Bill asks, respecting that she doesn’t want to talk.

“Before I explain I need you to have an open mind,” Laura tells Bill, knowing that that is going to be the most difficult part of the conversation, getting Bill to believe what she has to say when he is such an Atheist.

“Okay,” Bill says, feeling curious about what is going on, and what Laura is going to say.

“I believe, without any doubt, that this planet is Kobol,” Laura tells Bill.

“Why?” Bill asks, having known Laura well enough to know that she would have a reason.

“Because when I first looked at the images, I didn’t see ruins I saw intact buildings,” Laura tells Bill, who frowns at that.

“You’re experiencing side effects from the Chamalla,” Bill realises, feeling worried about what else Laura is experiencing that she hasn’t told him about, and Laura isn’t at all surprised that that is where Bill’s mind went.

“Not exactly, I think the Chamalla has opened me up to something I couldn’t see before,” Laura admits.

“Laura….” Bill starts to say.

“Open mind Bill,” Laura reminds him, and Bill doesn’t say what he is about to say instead he just nods, allowing Laura to continue to speak. “All this has happened before, all this will happen again, that’s how the ancient scriptures start, and what they detail…. Bill it’s uncannily similar to what we are experiencing,” Laura tells him. “And for what happens next we need the Arrow of Apollo,” Laura tells Bill who frowns.

“The Arrow of Apollo?” Bill asks confused, and Laura nods.

“Yes, according to the scriptures, if we had the Arrow of Apollo, we could take it down to Kobol and we could use it to open the tomb of Athena and find our way to Earth,” Laura explains to Bill.

“You’ve never been religious before,” Bill says to Laura, wondering when that changed.

“Because I’ve never had reason to before,” Laura admits. “But Bill, what I’m seeing, what I’m experiencing and what the scriptures say… I found myself believing,” Laura admits, knowing that Bill is the only person she can be this honest with.

“Do you actually believe or are you trying to make sense of everything we’re going through? Trying to find reason in chaos?” Bill asks, trying to see what is going on with Laura, as the way she is talking doesn’t sound like the Laura he has know for as long as he has.

“Truthfully, maybe a bit of both,” Laura admits. “The scriptures say that a dying leading will guide humanity to Earth, the real Earth,” Laura tells Bill, and Bill tenses at that as he knows Laura well enough to know that she isn’t just quoting the words she believes what she is saying. “I know you don’t believe, and I’m not asking you to, I’m asking you to trust me, trust the belief I have,” Laura says to Bill. “We have the Cylon Raider, we know the technology is advance and because of that there is a good chance it can jump all the way back to Caprica and get the arrow that can lead us to earth,” Laura explains to Bill.

“Laura, I do trust you, I trust you more than anyone, but this isn’t you,” Bill tells Laura, who feels her heart sink. “This is the Chamalla, and I can’t trust anything that comes from that,” Bill tells Laura. “The Raider is a military asset which means, as we agreed, I decide what it’s used for and I’m sorry Laura, but I can’t let it be used for this,” Bill admits, and he takes a breath because he knows what he has to say next could destroy all the progress they’ve made over recent weeks, but he cares about her too much not to say it. “And I think you should talk to Doc Cottle about the best way to get the Chamalla out of your system, it’s effecting you, more than I think you’re willing to admit,” Bill tells Laura, and while Laura knows he is coming from a place of caring about her she can’t accept it due to the anger and betrayal she is feeling.

“So that’s it, you’re saying no?” Laura asks him, feeling hurt as she really though she could get Bill to agree.

“I’m saying no,” Bill confirms.

“I see,” Laura says, standing up.

“Laura, please go see Cottle,” Bill asks, wanting her to be okay, wanting the best for her.

“I appreciate your concern Commander, but I’m fine,” Laura says before leaving, debating what to do now as she does believe that going back to Caprica to get the Arrow of Apollo is what they need to do, and if Bill won’t help then she will have to figure it out on her own.

As Bill watches Laura go, he feels his concern for her rise as Laura has always been logical, in the time he has known her she hasn’t believed in the gods because of her experiences when her mother was sick and dying, but now she believes? It doesn’t make sense to him, and he can’t help but feel incredibly concerned about her because of that.

[saiikavon]

So like. Recently I’ve gone in for an autism assessment; it’s not the first time, but this time feels. Different. I mean there’s still a good chance that they’ll tell me they can’t help me again, but what feels different now is that, as I talk to these people, I’m being surprised by just how much I’ve masked throughout the years. Now, I’m paying attention to the things that make me anxious. It’s not thoughts. It’s not necessarily that I think anything bad is gonna happen.

As it happens, I’m just really, really sensitive to my environment in ways I never considered because for a long time, I thought of constant discomfort as a normal thing. And it’s not. And I’m paying more attention so I can help my anxiety go away faster.

Hunger makes me anxious, so I’m sure to always have snacks and water. I’m uncomfortable with too much conversation and too much activity when I’m eating, so I go sit in a quiet place to eat and go be social when I’m done. High ceilings make me dizzy so have distractions when I can’t avoid it or if I can, sit in places where I’ll be close enough to the ceiling that it doesn’t matter.

Went to see a movie today. The theater had a high ceiling and I was also hungry, so the snacks played double duty in distracting me from the ceiling and also filling my stomach. And I sat through the whole movie without ever starting to panic, and I walked out of the theater feeling pretty good.

Even if I don’t get an official diagnosis, the process is teaching me stuff about myself that I think I really, really needed to know.