#ive had headaches like this before but this is the worst one in a LONG time. it wasn’t a migraine bc those are in one specific spot iirc but

[pepprs]

ok i survived yom kippur. but it took every single scrap of strength in my body and i’m not completely better yet

[jynrso]

some of it remains (but your love is unmoved)

hey all! this is the fic that i've been working hard on over the past few weeks. it's the first fresh piece i've written in over a year – the oneshot i posted a few weeks ago ("not without me / not without you") had a rough draft and outline so i had a bit to go off. this was a completely new story and i didn't intend for it to be this long. . .13.5 and 6k words later, here we are! jyn's experiences are based on my own. i got a concussion about 3.5 years ago and i still get icepick headaches to this day (that i never got before). while i don't get migraines, they are pretty bad. when i was thinking to myself about jyn's role as a brawler, i figured she'd get hit in the head pretty often –– and from that, this fic was born. title from "as it was" by hozier read it on ao3!

Jyn Erso has always had a remarkably thick skull. 

Not in the sense that she isn’t intelligent. Rather, ever since she’d learned how to fight, she’d quickly found that she could bounce back from blows to the head quicker than her comrades. Hits that would render other Partisans unconscious usually only dazed her; if she got knocked down, she pushed herself back up in seconds, returning to the fight with her brutal efficiency hindered only slightly by slight dizziness and a burgeoning headache. 

As a brawler, with the reach of her truncheons keeping her in close contact with her targets, she’s more exposed than a long-distance soldier. Though her armor absorbs many of the hits she takes, by favoring hand-to-hand combat, it’s not uncommon for her skin to be littered with various bruises and abrasions from hits she’s doled out and ones she’s taken in return. Even with her gloves, her hands often take the brunt of the damage; out of every place on her body, her hands are the most heavily scarred. 

But despite her fighting prowess and experience on the battlefield, she’s had her fair share of close calls. Even she isn’t completely unaffected by someone slamming the butt of their blaster against her skull. The scar snaking up from the top of her forehead into her hairline speaks to that; a few years ago, she’d been hit so hard by a stormtrooper that it had not only knocked her out but also needed stitches –– ones she had to do herself without the credits for proper medical care. It had never healed right, the scar angry and raised to this day, but she’d escaped with her life . . . and only a few consequences. 

The chronic headaches ––  the bad ones –– had begun during her stint in an underground fighting ring, just after Saw abandoned her on Tamsye Prime. In an attempt to earn enough credits to survive, she’d played her strengths to her advantage and fought numerous other sentients for money. Though she’d won more fights than lost, her opponents usually got in a hit or two; and, with the lack of protective gear, the blows she’d taken had often been more debilitating, especially in the aftermath. 

But in the middle of a war, a headache here or there is hardly her biggest problem.  

It’s not like she’s bleeding out or has any open wounds. A stim shot usually takes care of the worst of the symptoms and dims them to a more manageable level. And when that doesn’t work, in the years after Saw, she’d hole up somewhere dark and quiet and ride it out for a few days by herself. With her high pain tolerance, she can push through just about anything, even if it means spending a few hours incapacitated. 

Her last . . . episode had been right after Scarif. She doesn’t remember much of what’d happened after Bodhi had picked her and Cassian up from the beach but she recalls moments of blinding pain. The agony from her burns from the blast had only just been overshadowed by the splitting in her skull, feeling as if someone had taken an axe and cleaved her in two. 

Ever since, however, she’s managed to keep her headaches under control and everyone else in the dark. But with the recent destruction of Alderaan and the move from Yavin IV to Hoth, it’s only a matter of time. With the amount of pressure and stress slowly building up on her shoulders, she just hopes that she’s alone when the inevitable happens, and strong enough to ride out the pain when it comes.

When Jyn wakes, unusually bleary-eyed and out of it, Cassian’s no longer in bed next to her.

The sheets on his side have long gone cold. Faintly, in the back of her mind, she remembers him leaving earlier that morning; before his departure, he’d briefly woken her up with a kiss on the forehead and a whispered urge to go back to sleep. Not recalling much more than that, she assumes that she’d fallen back asleep and pushes herself up into a sitting position. 

As soon as she moves, a slow, heavy ache makes itself known in her left eye, radiating back toward her skull. She curses softly, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand, hoping that the pressure will help ease the oncoming pain, but to no avail. Even when she presses harder, digs her fingers into her hairline, the steady throbbing beats in time with her heartbeat. 

A pit sinks in her stomach. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, the pain of it a distraction. Even though her head doesn’t pound badly now, she knows from experience it’ll only get worse as the day goes on. And if this is one of those headaches. . .

Fuck, and she actually has shit to do today. She and Cassian are flying out in the afternoon for a surveillance and scouting operation at the abandoned rebel base on Dantooine. Bodhi’s swinging by later ––  shit, maybe sooner than she thinks, glancing at the chrono and seeing what time it is –– to help her get the ship ready while Cassian takes care of the pre-flight briefing with Draven. 

Okay. Okay. She exhales, throwing her arm over her eyes as she lays on her back in the messy remnants of their bunk. It’s not the ideal situation but it could be worse –– she just has to get out of bed and get ready while her pain is still manageable. Then she just has to meet Bodhi, get to the ship, and take off for Dantooine without indicating something is wrong, then find somewhere hidden and quiet to ride it out by herself. 

(There’s no way in hell Cassian is going to let her get away with that, a small voice in the back of her mind reminds her but she pushes that thought away for now. Once they get into the air, she can figure out an excuse. She just has to get there first. )

Groaning, Jyn hauls herself out of bed, wincing when the simple movement jars her already tender head. Without bothering to flip on the lip, she fumbles around in the dark, picking up random pieces of clothing they’d scattered across the ground the night before. 

In the bathroom, biting back a curse as the cold finally begins to hit her, the warmth of sleep finally wearing off, she quickly gets ready in the relative silence and dimness of the ‘fresher. 

There’s a basic medkit under the sink, equipped with bandages, a few bacta patches, and hyposprays. It’s meant for the occasions when either of them has minor injuries but doesn’t want to go to the medbay. Though it’s here for this purpose –– and she knows she should grab something –– she still hesitates. It’s not that bad (yet) and she’s pushed through worse. And there’ll be times in the future when they have a greater need for these supplies. . .

With her thoughts feeling like static, it’s difficult to concentrate enough to make a proper decision. Before she can, someone knocks on the door and shakes her from her daze. She flinches at the sound, wiping a shaky hand down her face as her head protests the sudden loud noise. 

“Fuck,” she mutters, rocking forward on her heels and leaning forward against the sink, so far that her forehead nearly touches the smudged mirror. The medkit looms in her peripherals but she ignores it, convincing herself that she’ll be fine. (She’s always fine –– she has to be ). 

In a burst of strength, she pushes up and away out of the bathroom, heading toward the door. 

“Jyn!” Bodhi brightens when it opens, then almost immediately falls when he looks at her properly. “You –– you look like shit!”  

“Thanks, Bo,” she mutters, leaning against the doorframe as she pulls on her boots. “Good morning to you, too.” 

Frowning, he rubs the back of his neck as he peers in closer, head dipping down and wide eyes scrutinizing her disheveled appearance. “Well, it’s actually closer to afternoon, now, but –– ” 

“Still morning,” she grunts, straightening. The edge of her vision goes fuzzy for a few seconds, threatening to white out completely; she steadies herself on the wall once again and exhales heavily, then forces herself upright.

“Do you –– do you need to go to the –– ” 

“No,” she bites out forcefully. Her voice harsher is than she intends but the pain makes her feel brittle, fragile even, and she can’t help but overcompensate. “Just –– I just had a bit too much to drink last night. That’s all.”  

Both of them are keenly aware of just how well she holds her liquor and Bodhi is much more observant than people give him credit for, especially around the people he cares about. He frowns, eyebrows tugging together, and while his expression tells her exactly what he’s thinking, he’s also picking up on the hidden details in her own. 

But for whatever reason, either her voice or the stubborn look in her eyes, he doesn’t comment on her flimsy excuse and nods instead, perhaps not wanting to put up a fight when it’s clear she’s looking for one. 

She doesn’t miss the concerned look in his eye when she walks out of the room a little slower than usual. He stays close to her as if expecting to catch her if she falls, arms nearly brushing as he keeps her pace. 

His intense attention makes her uncomfortable, her ears reddening from the unfamiliar notion of having someone care about her. She’s fine. A headache isn’t anything to make a fuss over, and really, he’s making a big deal out of nothing.  

“I checked out the ship you’re taking this morning,” he says, keeping up a steady stream of chatter as they navigate through the halls of Echo Base. She only half-listens, occasionally offering up hums of agreement as he speaks, but it’s growing more difficult to keep her focus solely on him. “There isn’t too much to do but . . .”

After a few minutes, they reach their destination. When the noise and brightness of the hangar bay hall hit her full force, Jyn sways on her feet, eyes closing as nausea swells low in her stomach. Bodhi grabs her elbow to keep her steady but she just barely feels the touch, the hammering in her head overshadowing every other sensation. 

“ ––yn! Are you okay?” 

Bodhi’s voice grows louder and more nervous with each passing second she fails to reply. Jyn barely manages to clamp down on her flinch, forcing her eyes open and gritting her teeth as her head protests. 

“Fine,” she rasps, then licks her dry lips. Just one more hour, at most, and she can lie down; she just has to get to the ship first. “I’m fine. Where –– where’s the shuttle?” 

He pauses, scrutinizing her once again. “Listen, if you’re not feeling well, we can––” 

“I said I’m fine!” she reasserts, a bit harsher than she intends. Her head throbs at the raised tone of her voice. She sighs. “Look, can we just –– ” 

It’s clear he doesn’t entirely believe her. With all the time they’ve spent together since Scarif, he knows what her normal behavior looks like –– and this isn’t it. “Jyn, you really should –– ” 

Her eyes flash in irritation. She doesn’t need to be coddled. “If you want to stay here, be my guest. But I’m going to finish up packing the ship.” 

Once again, he must see something in her face that ends any possible argument. For him, this is a losing battle. Sighing, his shoulders slump in the face of her stubbornness. “All right. Come on.” 

Leading her to a ship in the back of the hangar, she focuses on putting one foot in front of the other and pushing down the pain as best she can. No matter how lightly she steps, the impact of her boots against the ground sends electricity radiating up from her legs to her head, a dull thumping that seems to grow the longer she spends in the hangar bay. 

She blinks and then they’re there. Almost robotically, she nods as Bodhi’s mouth opens and he begins to talk, only catching the tail end of whatever he says. He gestures toward the remaining crates of supplies that need to be loaded onto the shuttle and Jyn doesn’t bother to respond, turning toward them and setting her shoulders in preparation. 

(With her back turned, she misses how his mouth thins, how he reaches out for her but drops his arm after a few seconds. She misses the determined set of his eyes, the way he seemingly comes to a decision before setting to work himself.)

It’s easy to lose herself in the repetitiveness of the task. With only the pain in her head to keep her company, she tunes out the rest of the hangar bay and loads up the ship. At least in there, the lights aren’t so bright and the noises around her are muffled some by the thick durasteel walls. 

A blink and it’s done. It’s been –– how long has she been doing this, so lost in her head? 

For a few seconds, she stands in the cargo bay and looks down at the crates without really seeing them. Her hands flex at her sides, fingers still primed to hold a box. But then a particularly painful jolt of pain goes through her eye and she hisses, pressing the palm of her hand against the socket. When it eases, her brain recircuits and she remembers her purpose, rocking back on her heels. 

She turns to look for Bodhi, not finding him in the cockpit as expected. Instead, when she heads down the loading ramp to look for him, she sees him a few feet away, looking in her direction and talking in hushed voices with Cassian. 

Jyn scowls in irritation, hands curling into fists at her side and marching over to them. She has a good idea of what Bodhi’s telling him –– that she’s been acting weird, that there’s something wrong with her, that she isn’t capable enough to go on the mission. All those thoughts jumble in her head at the same, overlapping and intensifying what’s already there. 

“I’m fine!” she barks when she makes it over to them, putting her hands on her hips and tilting her chin up in defiance. Her jaw tightens, the muscles in her body bunching up and tensing. “I don’t know what he’s telling you but –– ” 

Cassian holds up his hands and Bodhi takes a step back when faced with her sudden burst of rage. “We’re just going over take-off protocol since Bodhi isn’t coming with us on this one,” he explains gently. 

Her anger deflates from her as quickly as it’d arrived and she closes her eyes briefly as her skull throbs in protest. Embarrassment at her outburst curls low in her gut but she refuses to let it show. 

“Great,” she mutters, shoving her hands deep in her pockets and turning away from them. Her cheeks redden, ears burning beneath her hat. “I’ll be on the ship if you need me.” 

If her behavior hadn’t been a cause for concern before, it certainly is now. She hunches in her coat, keeping her head down as she stalks to the shuttle, the snarl on her lips acting as armor to repel any stares from overly curious recruits that she gets on the way back. 

Cassian isn’t far behind. She’s only been on the ship for a few beats before he joins her, standing close enough that there are only a few inches between them. When she looks back into the hangar bay, Bodhi’s still there, his body language anxious and worried in the distance. 

She scowls, feeling betrayed and like they’re ganging up on her. She’s clearly fine –– she’d gotten everything on the ship quickly and efficiently. What complaints could they even have? When she turns away, she determinedly keeps her gaze focused on her datapad and makes a point not to look at Cassian, even when his presence 

Finally, he breaks the stalemate, not bothering to pretend he doesn’t know something is wrong. “Bodhi says you’ve been off all morning.” 

“Did he,” she says flatly, her eye twitching. Her mouth twists and she resolutely stares down at the datapad but not truly seeing the words on the screen. 

“I’m not going to push you,” he replies steadily, his voice not changing despite the derision in hers. There’s no judgment, nothing but concern despite her growing frustration. ( Stars, she doesn’t deserve him. ) “But if something’s wrong, you can tell me.” 

If he hasn’t picked up on it, then she must be successfully hiding the worst of her pain. When she turns to face him, she lets a little bit of her raggedness show, exhaustion written on her features. It’s not a lie, not truly, but a misdirection instead. Let him think this is the root of the issue. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.” 

One of his eyebrows ticks up, likely remembering how she’d barely moved when he’d left their bed that morning. He doesn’t believe her, not entirely. But whatever he must see in her face must be enough to convince him that she’s all right for now. 

He nods slowly, brows tugging together as he considers her words, but doesn’t drop the matter entirely. “You can sleep once we make it to hyperspace.” 

It feels like an order rather than a request but she knows the decision is ultimately up to her. Too exhausted to disagree, the throbbing pain on one side of her head sapping all of the fight out of her body. 

Cassian hesitates, giving her a chance to pull away, then reaches out to cup her cheek. She closes her eyes when his thumb brushes against her cheekbone rhythmically; it doesn’t relieve any pain but his touch soothes her, comforts her in a way that only he can do. 

“Let’s finish getting the ship ready,” he says softly, and, eyes still closed, she nods once again. 

It doesn’t take long for them to finish; apparently, Bodhi had gotten more done than she’d realized while she’d lugged crates of supplies back and forth. Feeling almost as if in a trance with only a dull throbbing pain to keep her company, before she even realizes it, they’ve completed everything else and prepped the shuttle for take-off.  

(Dangerous, Saw’s voice barks in her head when she blinks in confusion, her body acting on auto-pilot as she buckles herself in and mechanically pulls on a pair of headphones. Just because you’re with someone you trust doesn’t mean you’re safe. Focus, my child.)

With one last wave to Bodhi, she closes the cargo bay door without another word and joins Cassian in the cockpit. Her limbs feel heavy, eyes squinting against the bright lights flashing on the dashboard. It takes her more than one try to get her seatbelt buckled in. 

Numbly, she forces her awareness out of the cave in her mind and does her best to pay attention when Cassian completes the pre-flight checks. It only takes a few minutes ––  she thinks, her thoughts feeling as if they’re moving through sludge –– before they’re up in the air. 

“Calculating jump to hyperspace,” he says. She clenches her jaw, nods, and prepares herself. 

The jump to hyperspace is worse than she’d expected. She presses the back of her head into her seat in an attempt to keep it steady and her white-knuckled hand gripping the armrests so tight she shakes. Against the roar of the engine, she inhales and exhales short puffs of air, eyes squeezed tight. It feels as if her brain is rattling against her skull, sharp pinpricks of pain hitting her through the eye in full force. 

One particularly bad pulse through her head has her biting down so hard on her tongue that she draws blood. The sharp sting at least provides a distraction, the coppery, metallic taste now filling her mouth becoming something to latch on to other than pain. 

But it’s getting more and more difficult to keep herself together. The combination of the lights, the noise, and the jerky movements of the shuttle around her have flayed her control almost entirely. She can’t do this, she can’t do this, but she has to, she has to keep it together for just a few more secon––

The ship stills. 

The only sound in the cockpit is her sharp, rapid breathing that she struggles to quiet and the hum of the engine underneath her feet. Though she can’t see him, she’s acutely aware of Cassian at her side. She hears him take off his headset and set it down on its hook above the dashboard, then hears the creak of his seat as he turns, presumably to face her properly. 

Hears the low, comforting sound of his voice when he tentatively asks, “Jyn? Are you okay?” 

“`m’fine,” she mumbles after a beat, her brain taking longer than usual to comprehend his words properly. Even though it’s very clear that she’s not, she can’t quite abandon the ruse just yet, still hanging onto rapidly disappearing threads of composure. “Just. . .��� 

She trails off, swallowing down a wave of nausea. In the silence that follows, her stomach churns, due both to anxiety and her migraine; if she moves, even slightly, she’s going to throw up all over the floor. To tamp down on that, she focuses on her breathing: ragged inhales that catch before they make it to her lungs. 

Cautiously, she cracks her eyes open, just a slit, to see Cassian leaning forward in his seat, gaze tight with worry. His fists are curled against his knees, his body tense with the effort of not reaching out to her. She imagines he wants to check her over himself and see what’s causing her pain but not without her permission. 

“Are you hurt?” he asks. She can hear the desperation in his voice, likely compounded by the fact that he hadn’t pushed her to tell him what’d been wrong earlier. “Jyn, please. Did someone hurt you? Are you––” 

“Fine,” she cuts him off weakly, ignoring his growl of frustration at her protests. He’d reluctantly taken her by her word earlier but that’s not going to work anymore. The ruse is up; it’s so incredibly clear that she isn’t fine, the jump to hyperspace having rattled something loose in her brain. “It’s. . .” 

She pauses, licks her lips, then decides ––  what the hell. She can’t physically keep her walls up much longer. Her eyes flutter close, the pressure in her head abating only slightly with the lack of light. Finally, she says, “My head.” 

“Did you fall? Jyn, let me check––” 

“No,” she swallows, fumbling with her words. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, her thoughts slow and sluggish. “It’s –– it’s a migraine. I think. I, um, get them. Occasionally.” 

When Cassian doesn’t reply, she opens her eyes to see what he’s doing, feeling nervous and exposed. She watches as he gingerly stands and reaches over her, flicking off the lights in the cockpit and dimming the space as much as possible. While it isn’t completely dark, with switches on the dashboard still blinking, it’s a marked difference from how bright it’d been before. Her breath leaves her in a stuttered exhale as her shoulders relax slightly. 

His voice is quiet when he asks, “Better?” 

“Yeah,” she rasps. It is. “Thanks.” 

A beat of silence passes between them before he tilts his head to the side, in the direction of the back of the ship. Though it isn’t large and not meant for long-term travel, there’s a small bunk room and galley just behind the crew’s quarters. Though he doesn’t say anything, Jyn knows what he’s asking. 

“No,” she grits out. She keeps her head still but follows him with her gaze. It’s a struggle to get the words out. “I don’t . . . need to rest.” 

“Jyn. . .” 

“No.” It feels like her last line of defense. It’s a stupid hill to die on but she can’t seem to let it go, barely clinging to what little she has left. Even though she knows that Cassian would never treat her differently  –– and he never has when she’s come to him injured or in the aftermath of a nightmare –– she’s not unlike a feral animal when hurting, flinching away and attacking the hand that tries to help.

He’s seen her at her worst, has held her through it, has seen more of her than anyone in this galaxy ever has. But used to a lifetime of sharing a bunk and never truly being alone, she’s learned to keep her pain quiet, to remain small and unobtrusive in moments of true vulnerability. Cassian and the rest of Rogue One have slowly broken down some of her walls but there are some things she doubts she’ll ever be able to shake fully.

But then Cassian whips out his trump card. 

“Please, Jyn? For me?” And if his saying please hadn’t been enough, he adds softly, “My back has been sore all morning. Lay down with me?”

“Just for an hour,” she relents ––  barely. “And you have to actually lay next to me.” 

His eyes soften. “`course. Come on.” 

She stands slowly to try and offset the dizziness that she knows will come, but it doesn’t work. She bites the inside of her cheeks and closes her eyes when it washes over her, her head throbbing in time with her heartbeat. For a few seconds, she worries once again she might throw up all over the ground but swallows it down. Fuck, it hurts so badly. 

There’s this urgent, wild urge in the back of her mind to cry out for her mother –– she feels like a child again, scared and in pain, and wanting nothing more than Lyra’s comfort. 

Finally, when it passes, she opens her eyes again, breathing heavily. Cassian stands a few feet away, one arm outstretched in case he needs to steady her. He’s not even trying to hide his worry anymore; she’d reassure him in any other situation but she’s just so tired. 

Slowly, she makes her way to the bunkroom with Cassian close behind. It’s not far, and soon, she’s perched on the edge of the small cot, shoulders hunched forward. 

He reaches out and touches her arm gently. That one small gesture eases a knot of tension in her body and she sags like a puppet whose strings have been cut. “I’m going to grab you some water. I’ll be right back, okay?” 

Feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable, she doesn’t like the idea of him leaving her sight right now. But at the thought of water, she swallows, her throat dry. Slowly, she nods, her head heavy and protesting the jerky movement. 

She keeps quiet and doesn’t move until he returns with a glass of water in hand. Despite the position likely being hell on his back, he crouches next to the bed, offering it to her. 

Silently, she reaches for it with a shaky arm, just barely managing to take a few sips without spilling before handing it back to him. He takes it, but not without a small sigh and a look of concern. 

“You need to stay hydrated.” As quiet as it is, his voice is still too loud. 

Not having eaten anything all day, she’s keenly aware of the hunger and thirst steadily growing in her stomach. But it’s no match for the pain in her head and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to keep anything more than water down if she tries. “No,” she manages. But then, to appease him, she adds, “Later.” 

“All right,” he says finally, setting the glass on the small desk a few paces away. A pause. He shifts on his feet, and she’s just about to order him to move from his uncomfortable position when he speaks again, “I grabbed a hypospray. It’s yours if you want it.” 

There’s a protest on her lips that dies when he interrupts, anticipating what she’d planned on saying, “We have more than enough supplies. It won’t be missed.” 

Jyn licks her lips, then dips her chin in a slow nod. 

Cassian’s jaw works briefly, clenching and unclenching before his expression finally smoothes. He knows her better than she knows herself, she thinks –– and they both know how stubborn she can get about soldiering through her pain until the last possible moment. For her to give in now without too much complaint tells him exactly how bad her pain is, what she’d been trying to hide from him all day. 

Without a word, he waits until he catches her half-squinted gaze before slowly bringing the hypospray to her neck. She tilts her chin to the side slightly and closes her eyes; her breath stutters in her lungs when his warm hands brush against her skin, looking for the artery. 

“Dispensing now,” he murmurs and she doesn’t have the energy to hide her flinch when the cold medicine enters her bloodstream. 

The small, barely there movements of her body send shockwaves of pain through one side of her skull. Her whole body tenses, muscles rigid. She keeps her eyes squeezed to better ride out the wave washing over her, ebbing and throbbing; even as she feels the hypospray beginning to take effect, it isn’t immediate. 

Now that she’s sitting, with no more tasks left to complete, she properly takes stock of her pain, it feels as if someone is repeatedly taking an ice pick to her head, stabbing her eye socket with each throbbing beat of her pulse. Before she can stop it, a small whimper leaves her mouth before she presses her lips tightly together so no other sounds can escape. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he says softly. She feels him brush her cheek with his fingers lightly, then moves some of her hair off of her face. “You don’t have to hide from me, Jyn. What do you need?” 

She doesn’t have to do much to convey it. Without speaking and moving as little as possible, she finds his arm in the dark and pulls him toward her. Gingerly, Cassian stands –– she can hear his joints popping as he does so –– and maneuvers himself over her and onto the cot. 

He settles stiffly next to her with his back to the wall; at first, he doesn’t move, likely not wanting to cause her any more pain. But as soon as she feels him at her side, she reaches for him immediately. He is, as always, a lifeline for her, an anchor in the middle of the storm. She turns onto her side, curling into him, desperate for some sort of comfort, a distraction from the pain, if only for a few seconds. And even though it must be hell on his back for him to curl over her like this, he does so, anyway, his body a shield between her and the outside world. 

Forehead pressed against his neck, her fists gripping his shirt with a white-knuckled grip, he quietly murmurs nonsense into her ear. All she can do is cling to him in a moment of uncharacteristic weakness strength and breathes. 

Hours later, Jyn opens her eyes, slowly waking up. She doesn’t remember falling asleep but the combination of Cassian’s presence and the hypospray’s effect eventually lulled her to unconsciousness. She blinks once, twice, feeling a hundred times lighter than she had earlier; the pain in her head has abated to a manageable ache –– still there but not as debilitating. 

She tilts her head upward, the tip of her nose brushing against Cassian’s face. He’s in the same position as he’d been in before, curled around her protectively. Still asleep, his face is relaxed, his breathing slow and even. 

As much as he needs the sleep, she’s unable to resist her next impulse; she tilts her chin slightly, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his mouth. It’s short and sweet, lasting only a few seconds; and even though it’s a selfish want, her heart skips a beat in her chest when his eyes open, warm and brown, blinking down at her. 

It’s a testament to how much he trusts her that he doesn’t tense upon awakening. Rather, his expression warms, mouth tugging into an indulgent smile. “Hi,” he murmurs, voice rasping. 

“Hi,” she repeats, her smile a mirror of his. When he moves to brush his lips against hers again, she meets him eagerly, basking in the afterglow of the morning and the relaxed feeling that only sleep can bring. 

“How are you feeling?” 

She hums. “Better.” 

“Good.” His arms tighten around her, firm but loose enough that she can pull away. She doesn’t. “You scared me, you know.” 

She stays silent as he continues. “When Bodhi told me he didn’t think you were feeling well, I didn’t think it was that bad, not when you marched over to us a minute later. But then, after we jumped. . .” he closes his eyes briefly, licking his chapped lips. She wants to smooth the wrinkle between his brows with her thumb. “I thought you would have told me that it was that bad.” 

Is that disappointment in his voice? Shame curls in her gut. Had their positions been flipped, she would have felt just as helpless. “I know. I should have.” 

“Why didn’t you?” An open question. If he’s judging her for it, he keeps that out of his voice. 

“I don’t know,” she says finally. “It’s. . .It’s not that I don’t trust you, because I do, but. . .” she shrugs with a shoulder as best she can while lying on her side. “Just habit, I guess.” 

A habit formed after years of being alone, exacerbated due to Saw’s abandonment and how quickly her ties to the Partisans –– her foundation of self, her family –– had been ripped out from underneath her. It had been necessary to hide the vulnerable sides of herself for survival, instincts that she hasn’t quite shaken now that she once again has a team she can rely on. 

He licks his chapped lips. “Have you . . . seen someone about this? A medic?” 

“Once.” After her symptoms had lingered long after a particularly bad head injury, Saw had forced her (not that she had much choice with how sick she’d been) to see one of the Partisan’s medics. “With how many concussions I get, this sort of thing. . .happens, they said.” 

Cassian hums. “Will you see one of the Alliance’s medics when we get back?” 

“I don’t think there’s anything they can do,” she argues. She can handle it –– not to mention that, with how many injuries those doctors have to deal with on a daily basis, she’d just be wasting their time. 

He stays silent but the look in his eyes tells her he doesn’t like her answer. “There might be medicine that could help.” 

“The hypospray worked well enough,” she retorts grouchily, cuddling closer to him so she no longer has to meet his gaze. His heartbeat beats a steady tempo against her cheek. 

He brushes her bangs back behind her ears, his hand lingering on the side of her face. Perhaps reassuring himself that she’s still in one piece, that she’s no longer in as much pain as before. “To prevent this sort of thing from happening so often.” 

She scowls. “It doesn’t happen that often.” 

“Jyn. . .” he sighs. “What happens if we’re out on a mission and you’re like this? If –– if something happened to you, I couldn’t. . .” His jaw clenches, eyes flashing at the thought of the hypothetical. 

Knowing he’s right –– it has happened out in the field but never to this degree –– she stays silent. 

“Let’s make a deal, all right?” She remains quiet, listening. He continues, “You go to the medbay when we get back, see what they can do. I’ll come with you. And then, in return, when my back is bothering me, I’ll go. But we tell each other, all right? When we’re hurting. Trust goes both ways, remember?” 

“Trust goes both ways,” she echoes softly, tipping her head back from his chest and onto the pillow so she can better look at his face. Her headache has been subdued to a dull throbbing, a far cry from the agony she’d felt earlier. “You promise you’ll go?” 

“If you do, I will,” Cassian says. “And you’ll tell me next time your head hurts, yes?” 

“Fine,” she concedes with a grumble, though her displeasure fades when he gathers her back up in his arms and kisses her forehead gently. Her breath hitches at the feeling of his lips against her skin. 

“We have a few more hours before we reach Dantooine,” he tells her softly. “We should get up, grab some food. When’s the last time you ate?” 

Even though she hasn’t eaten anything all day, the remnants of nausea still remain in her system. She makes a face, wrinkling her nose at the thought of leaving the bed and Cassian’s embrace. 

“You said your back was sore,” she says instead. Regardless if it had only been a ploy to get her to bed, his back bothers him more often than not. It won’t hurt to rest a little more, especially not when they’ll be in hyperspace for a while still. “Lay here with me?” 

The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles down at her. It’s the type of true smile she so very rarely sees outside of when they’re alone together, the one that never fails to make her heart swell in her chest with a type of love she’d never thought she’d ever feel. “Always.” 

[softsnzstuff]

Sicktember Day 2 - Quest for a Cure

Fandom: House MD; Chase

Summary: I took a different spin on this and made chase feel like he needs to go on a physical quest to get his cure from the store

Word Count: 550

Yesterday had to have been one of the worst days in the books for Chase. He’s been working his ass off for two years working for House and trying to earn respect. That was hard to do, however, when you were fainting on the job.

He’d felt bad for a few days - swollen lymph nodes, congestion, headache - but he’d be damned if he was going to let that stand in the way. He’d volunteered to do lab work, but House wasn’t having any of it.

“Cameron can do lab work. I want you on clinic duty.”

“But there’s no reason Chase can’t-” Cameron started.

“GEEZ! Well we all know now that you’re sleeping together.” House scoffed.

Foreman snorted back a laugh. Chase started at his boss, pale and sweaty, “We’re not…. That’s not relevant. I’ll do the clinic duty.”

The Aussie sounded absolutely sapped of energy, not up for witty banter today.

“While you’re down there, ask Cuddy if I can cut this kid’s head open!!”

He’d only been in the clinic for two hours before he started feeling hot and lightheaded. His hands and feet felt like lead and his vision was spotted. Next thing he knew, he was laying on a gurney, staring at Cuddy and House.

“Chase? Can you hear me?” Cuddy asked gently. “You fainted. You’ve got a fever of 103. I’m sending you home after some IV fluids.”

“Who had the bet on Chase being the weakest link on the team?”

Cuddy slapped his arm, “House! Go work on your case.”

---

Today he was at home, laid up in bed with a fever, pale and clammy. This had to be the worst he’d felt in a long time, especially since he was way more sneezy today. It’s like his nose got inflamed and sensitive overnight.

The grey T shirt clung to his skin as the blonde rubbed at his eyes with his forefinger and thumb.

“H’TSCHiew! huh- ihh’TSZIEW!”

The blonde groaned and reached for a tissue off his nightstand as he propped himself up on an elbow. He was certain he had an upper respiratory tract infection. Despite being a doctor, he had a criminal lack of medicine in his apartment.

After a few chesty coughs, he finally peeled back the blankets and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, waiting for the dizzy spell to pass before standing up.

He switched his sweaty shirt for a clean one and slipped on a jacket to match his navy blue sweatpants. The thought of hauling himself to the store made him want to die. His head was throbbing, his sinuses ached, and he could barely talk.

He trudged to the kitchen to get a glass of water, stopping halfway to pinch some sneezes back.

“H’xTCH! Eh’xchu!! Snff N’xxT!! Guhhhhh”

A knock on the door was the last thing he wanted, but he sighed and answered it anyways. He locked eyes with Cameron before letting his eyes wander down to the small basket she was holding that was full of NyQuil, lozenges, and decongestant.

“You look awful.” She frowned at his general sickly appearance.

“Gee thanks. Aren’t you working today?” He snuggled into his jacket sleeve.

“Lunch break.” She shrugged, “I gotta run, but I heard about what happened in the clinic yesterday and I just… I know your apartment is barren so. I just brought this.”

She handed the basket of meds and other goodies to Chase before quickly planting a kiss on his cheek and stepping back out. “See you soon?”

He rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand, “Yeah. Hoping to be back soon. This should help.”

He awkwardly held up the basket, smiling weakly before closing the door and sighing. Than god he didn’t have to leave the apartment.

[jiminy-crickets]

faceoff episode one thoughts and opinions <3333

YESSSS right off the bat willy is walking around Toronto with his dogs, fuck YES!!

YES PUT THE TORONTO MEDIA CIRCUS ON BLAST!!!!!!

also fucking hell, when dear god WHEN will we as a society escape biz nasty. grow up!!!!!! YOUR NAME IS PAUL!!!!!

"This place is the only place that has been home for me. Like, ive never spent so much time in one place in my life"........... william........ i am holding you gently in my hands baby.

Willy absolutely stunting on those kids, also... It is almost pathetic just how romance-horny i get seeing people being nice to kids. like, i love kids, i hope to have a bunch one day, and it makes me so frustrated to see how angry so many young people get when children dare to exist in public (like, i get being annoyed at a crying baby on a plane, but when you are giving dirty looks at a parent and a kid who are just existing in public fuck off, fuck right off with that)

also i love the shot of the puppies looking at willy and the kids in the doorway onto the ice.

like once again, seeing pasta call his kid "boss" and taking her out to the aquarium... man i love that, like pasta if you want a second 'wife' lmk!!

augh!!!!! the shots of baby pasta and baby willy!!!! TINY BABIES!!!! widde iddy bitty boys!!!

oh fuck dead dad talk.... oh, i don't. i really hope this episode isnt sad for very long because uh.... i fucking buried my grandmother on Wednesday, i can't deal with sad shit rn.

oh okay, dead dad talk is over now, yippee. but also, yikes.

the dinner together is really sweet, it does you know... feel very performative since there are cameras, but its still nice.

okay the cut from willy being like all like 'i hate playing you because we loose' to boston winning 4-1, is MUAH chefs kiss

okay, time skip to the playoffs, i knew it had to happen, but wow. bit of a jolt to the system.

i am not a leafs FAN, i am a leafs appreciator, and so... i welcome any and all footage of them looking sad.

the montage of angry tweet and voice clips of people asking when willy was is very much giving the ready for it into from the reputation stadium tour.

i wouldn't wish a migraine on my worst enemy (my worst enemy being mycobacterium tuberculosis) and fuck i forgot how fucking idiotic people were yelling about how willy wasn't playing because of a 'headache' like, no. that IS NOT what a migraine is, fuck right off.

okay i get why they are showing the game highlights along with willy cheering them on, but it FEELS like im watching a fucking react video.

omg hiiiiii PK <3333333333 ive seen you before now, but you look so cute and you are so right they aren't playing hurt they are playing injured, and its fucked up.

<3 stop fucking crying bro <3

WAIT THE SHOT OF WILLY ON THE SUBWAY IN THE TRAILER WAS HIM ON HIS WAY TO GAME SIX????? fucking iconic, also FUCK THE TTC. i hate it more than OC Transpo, which is saying something because i live in Ottawa.

the shot of him walking up the steps in the station and smiling at the bruins fan in front of him... your honour i love him!!

okay i am ALL FOR the dramatic slow mo shots of them set to dramatic music, but have them be doing something cool, not just a lame celly.

...WHO'S CAR IS HE DRIVING HOME???? SIR YOU TOOK THE TRAIN!!!

the episode is called "the best of rivals" but it should be called the william nylander show, WHERE IS PASTA!!!

OMG HIIII PASTAAAAAAA <3333 also i fucking forgot that montgomery called pasta out, fucking hell. the shit you forget in a few months.

fucking hell, now dead son talk. i can't deal with this. i fucking can't. jesus christ. at least now im crying for a real reason, not liek when i watched the new sims trailer (its death themed) two days ago and had to pause it part way through and close the tab because i was crying looking at the sims coffin.

please can the leafs get eliminated now i need to cheer up.

wait omg i forgot it was pasta who got the ot win!!!! ough the nhl scriptwriter knocked that out of the park

its realllllly hard for me to be sad for willy wen he looks like THAT, like sir, if you want me to be sad for you you're gonna need to not be flushed and covered in sweat with your hairy tits out. like. you looks like sex on legs good sir.

awwwwww nice end.

i like seeing sad willy.

and happy pasta

this is FUN, i like this!!!! although, i am fond of a good docuseries, so... i was never NOT going to like this. its fun! its dramaaaaa, and they are swearing which i miss when i watch the other BTS series that teams put out.

[azurdlywisterious]

OC Pride Parade (10/12)

Niedermayrite "Enid" Skinner/Pavlov

(its a long story)

Ya ever get cursed to wander around the wasteland in your dead mother's dress and that being the least of your problems?

Some fun facts about her:

Tried to kill her brother, Danny, when she was ten and got trapped in a mirror dimension by the angel Metatron as a result. Well, less trapped and more rescued because it was either that or Paimon would kill her in order to protect Danny (so that he could later blow up Megaton).

Is in a QPR with Sierra and has a friends-with-benefits arrangement with Sarah

She's got Bayonetta heels and does shoot with them

She wears that eyepatch because that eye can still see the real world. Best case scenario it gives her a headache and worst case scenario she watches Megaton blow up while standing in the center of town (empty chairs and empty tables intensifies)

Is able to talk to Danny in the real world by using any radios, microphones, and walkie talkies she finds in the mirror dimension

Affectionate towards Amata and cannot stand Butch (I go back and forth on whether or not she kills him in the mirror dimension)

In the mirror dimension, her last name is changed to that of her mom's maiden name (Pavlov) and is unable to say her actual last name (Skinner) until she gets back to the real world (also no one in the real world remembers her but records of her in the computers still exist)

I went back and read my own fanfiction and apparently she did kill mirror dimension Butch. Unless she's lying, which wouldn't be out of character for her.

And some fun facts about her creation:

She originally was going to have her own separate canon, but the more I developed her form "the mirror version of Danny" the more i gravitated towards making her Danny's pissed off older sister

her attempting to kill Danny when they were kids is the result of a philosophical debate i had with my fiancé over this variation of the trolley problem

ive never drawn her smiling and already drew her with the monster high esque lips so i just did my best to wing it. it makes her look like shes never smiled before, which is pretty accurate

if she reminds you a bit of Dean from Supernatural, thats fair because she reminds me of Dean from Supernatural

[auroraescritora]

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME - PERCY/NICO AU HIGH SCHOOL - CHAPTER XV

Hi, how's everyone? I was happy to see the votes in the poll^^ it's a good way for us to communicate. One person voted for no more +18 scenes! Does that mean you like my plots and characters? (Because you know I only write AU) I feel honored, really, from the bottom of my heart. So I'll always try to say when I have these kinds of scenes.

Without further ado, thank you for following me along this story!

CHAPTER I / CHAPTER II / CHAPTER III / CHAPTER IV / CHAPTER V / CHAPTER VI / CHAPTER VII / CHAPTER VIII / CHAPTER IX / CHAPTER X / CHAPTER XI / CHAPTER XII / CHAPTER XIII / CHAPTER XIV

Nico didn't know what was happening to him. Or better yet, he did knew. The question was why.

"Baby." Percy said against his ear, digging his fingers into his hair for a brief moment that almost made him come. But too soon, Percy's hands traveled to his shoulders and down to his waist, stopping both their movements. "They will hear us.’’

Nico closed his mouth and tried to stifle the next moan, but he couldn't stop himself, rocking on Percy's lap and bending over him, and that’s what he didn't understand. Nico had never had sex with anyone like this before and suddenly, it was all he could think about. How could this be happening to him? The worst thing was that Percy was being a perfect gentleman. Or that was the case until Nico woke up the next morning. He'd gone to the bathroom and when he came back, Percy was still there, all stretched out on the bed, with nothing covering him... when had Percy gotten so tall or gotten those muscles? And those arms? Nico couldn't help himself, he went back to bed and... well, Nico would like to say that he had just watched Percy sleep.

Even though he felt sensitive from the night before and  had a headache from his hangover, Nico crawled across the bed and sat on Percy's waist, trying to be careful. This was so wrong, the talk of consent coming back with a vengeance. But maybe if he woke him up in an interesting way, Percy wouldn't be so angry with him. So, Nico did what he'd wanted to do for a long time, he put his hands on Percy's abdomen and slid them up, fingering the muscles and coming back down, feeling the hairs stand up against his fingers What would he have to do to get Percy to wake up? Maybe if he... Nico bent over Percy and reached up to sun-tanned face, feeling the beard that was beginning to grow, seeing a smile on Percy's wide lips.

"Per?" When Percy still refused to open his eyes, Nico continued his exploration. He massaged the broad chest and rubbed the erect nipples with his fingertips, watching them get hard.

It looked like he would have to do everything himself in the end, which was fine, it just gave him the courage to carry on. 

With gentle motions, Nico slid his ass down and found a bulge that hadn't been there five minutes ago. Should he? Nico knew it would hurt a bit, but he didn't want to look for the lube. It couldn't hurt that much, right? 

Testing the waters, Nico once again sat on Percy's lap, brought his hand behind him and found Percy's cock fully erect. Maybe he was a masochist, was the only explanation for the groan he let out when he forced himself against the resistance and the head passed through the tight entrance, sliding in much more easily than he had expected. Gods! The tip was so wet that he ended up finding the bottom faster than he expected. Nico thought he had screamed, he thought he had squeezed Percy's member inside him with all the strength he had. How could that translate into pleasure for his nerves, how?!

"You're going to hurt yourself." He heard Percy say in the background and felt hands squeeze his legs tightly. It was hard to concentrate on anything other than the member stretching him and the tremors of pleasure and pain that hit his senses. But... but everything would be all right, because a few moments later Nico felt warm hands caressing his back, the member pulling out of him and then wet fingers were massaging inside him for Percy's member to slide in him again, deep and delicious, reaching that place that until last night Nico hadn't known existed.

"What is it, hm? Why is my baby crying? Where does it hurt?’’

He denied it, shook his head, and let himself loosen. He put his arms around Percy's neck and relaxed, which made everything feel better. But Percy was still motionless there, breathing fast against his neck and holding him tightly around the waist. 

"Per... I need it.’’

"Doesn't it hurt? From last night?’’

Nico denied it once again, settling himself better on Percy's lap, making the member inside him hit the best spots with just that accidental movement.

"Please... I want you... I want you to... ah!’’

"Like that?" Percy asked and demonstrated again. He lifted Nico up by the waist and brought him down once more, meeting him halfway with a sharp thrust.

"They will hear us.’’

"Percy!’’

He thought he was really screaming now. It hurt! It hurt so much, and yet, he couldn't stop, feeling each of his muscles fall apart every time Percy's hips met his.

"You have to take responsibility for your actions, baby." Percy whispered in his ear. That was too much for him.

Whimpering and not knowing what his body wanted, Nico pushed Percy by the shoulder and crawled out of Percy's lap, moaning and sobbing, his legs failing him halfway, causing him to fall face-first into the pillows. Nico didn't understand what was happening to himself, he just... just... was going to explode at any moment if the world didn't make sense again. How could pain be so mixed with pleasure like that to make him delirious? Because the look on Percy's face could only be an illusion his mind was creating. It felt like... like he was the prey and Percy the predator.

"Where are you going?’’

"I... I don't know!’’

"Baby.’’

A shiver ran up his spine and made his legs shake. There was something in Percy's voice that made him freeze where he had fallen. What was happening to them? He couldn't look at Percy, he was afraid to see what he would find there, and he wanted to run away, but... but Nico didn't want to move and maybe find out what was scaring him so much. Either way, he was moving just the same, crawling across the huge bed towards... he didn't know, anywhere was fine. So why did he stop at the edge of the bed, still trembling and... and feeling an anticipation that he didn't know where it came from? The door was right in front of him, either the bathroom or the exit. If he felt so trapped, why wasn't he heading towards them?

Nico moaned in surprise when Percy's hand touched the middle of his back and gently slid up and down in one of the most comforting gestures Nico had ever experienced.

"Do you want to play?" Percy then asked, still not moving closer. "Or do you want to sleep some more? It's still early.’’

"I..  "Nico curled in on himself and hid his face in the pillow.

He didn't understand what was happening to him. Nothing made sense. He didn't want to be feeling these things and he didn't want to be that kind of person. Like, a few days ago he was fine with what was going on. So what was the problem?

"You can tell me.’’

"I want to cum." Nico admitted, his face buried against the pillow.

"Then look at me. Yes?’’

Nico denied it, curling up even more.

The bed around him rocked and then Percy was beside him, warm hands were on his spine along with lips that slid down the length of his back until they reached the curve of his buttocks, nibbling on them.

"Are you ready to talk?" Percy murmured against his skin.

When Nico denied him once again, Percy's lips moved down a little further and found his entrance, kissing the area gently. "Don't ever do that again. I don't want to see you hurt.’’

Nico had no other reaction than to shudder and moan against the pillows, feeling himself melt as Percy's tongue caressed a deeper place.

"Do you want me to touch your cock?’’

Nico denied it. All he did was deny it. What was going on!

"Do you want me to stop?’’

So, he denied it once again, surprising himself.

"Baby." Percy said in the most affable voice he'd ever heard and it made him feel strangely... happy, satisfied even.

"I want you... inside me.’’

"Really?" Now Percy sounded almost condescending, even ironic. Which made sense. They were doing exactly that until Nico had a panic attack.

"Tell me if it's too much.’’

All Nico could do was gasp, breathless from the sudden movement. The mattress sank slightly behind him and Percy tucked himself over his back. Hands encircled his waist, pulling him closer and fingers dug into his hair, strangely forcing him to inhale deeply. The funny thing was that Percy didn't even use much force, his head spinning, trying to come up with explanations for why this moment seemed so different from the others. What made him feel so distressed and so excited at the same time? At the moment, it didn't matter. Nico felt the head of Percy's member against his entrance once again and then everything in his vision blurred, his head clearing of any thoughts for a few moments. It was hard to describe. Nico didn't know if it was Percy's grip getting tighter and tighter on his skin, if it was Percy gasping against his ear or if even it was the decisive and forceful way Percy fucked him, slowly but with purpose with each short, well-placed thrust.

Maybe he just wanted Percy to keep him under control and tell him what to do next. Would he be forced to talk about it too? Before that could happen, Nico would rather run away and never come back. Or he would have, if Nico hadn't felt Percy's hands holding him against his broad chest, preventing him from moving too much.

"Everything's fine. With me, okay?" Percy held him between his arms and slowed down his movements, but it was too late. Something in the way Percy held him finally made Nico let go. Nico allowed Percy to continue holding him and shuddered for the next few minutes, relaxing against Percy's chest, feeling Percy go with him. 

"All right?" Percy said after a few moments when neither of them did anything to move.

"I'm not sure." That was the most sincere thing that had come out of his lips since he woke up.

***

"I'm not sure. "Nico said, still sunk against Percy's chest, finally feeling safe and at peace.

He felt so strange that Nico would never have the words to express it. What had changed in five minutes that made him feel so good now?

"Everything is fine. You were great." Percy still had one hand in his hair and the other on his waist, which was now massaging his belly and lower abdomen, gently rocking him.

"What's going on? I didn't... I didn't want to run.”

"I know you didn't’.’

"I just..’’

"It's okay if you let yourself feel it.’’

"Let me feel what?’’

"I've learned that sometimes our minds go to strange places. As if our body wanted one thing and our minds, another. So it's okay to feel, whatever it is.’’

"Since when do you know so much about feelings?’’

"I...looked for help.’’

"Psychological?’’

Percy nodded against his back and Nico had to turn around to see for himself, but Percy wasn't facing him; he was looking out of the window.

"When you left, I realized that it was bad to suffer so much for someone, that made me want to kill myself.’’

"Percy! I never wanted this to happen! Why didn't you tell me?’’

"You're not responsible for my actions, and I'm not responsible for yours. Or at least, that wasn't the case back then.’’ 

Then Percy gave a mischievous little smile and Nico rolled his eyes. Looks like they had a lot to talk about. 

"The point is that I couldn't ask you to come back and it wasn't fair to let depression sink me down. I did what Sally asked." Percy shrugged. "I went to the doctor. And even with help, I still missed you. I had no choice but to see you having fun and growing up without me.

"I... it wasn’t forever." Nico muttered, feeling like a monster. "It was supposed to be a few months, then a year. I didn't have the courage to face you again.’’

"What made you change your mind?’’

"A photo. Annabeth and you, sitting on your bed.’’

Nico watched as, in slow motion, the look of sadness turned to amusement and happiness, Percy hugging him tighter.

"Oh, if she only knew.’’

"Knew what?’’

"Annabeth did it on purpose, thinking she was going to hurt you. I think she did it, didn't she?’’

"Percy!" Now Percy was laughing for real, throwing himself backwards onto the bed and taking him with him, trapping him in a bear grip.

"Let me go!’’

"No, it's serious now. Do you want to talk about what happened?’’

"I don't think so.’’

"Aren't you even going to give me a clue? A pointer? Nothing at all?’’

Nico could even imagine the nightmare. If Percy knew what Nico really wanted... it would be the end of him.

"All right. I got it.’’

Percy stretched and put Nico against the pillows. Before getting up, he kissed Nico and smiled at him, turning around in bed. He opened a drawer on his side of the bed and took out a diary with a blue cover, similar to the one he had given Nico.

"I think I'll write after I've had a bath. It's relaxing, don't you think?" Percy put the diary on his side of the bed and kissed Nico once more, going to the bathroom inside the suite and closing the door.

Nico heard the sound of water falling on the floor and felt like the dumbest person in the world. His own diary was right next to him on the dresser and the last thing he wanted to do was write about his feelings. He felt forced and manipulated into doing something he didn't want to, but, after all, it was only fair; Percy had told him something deep and personal, which left him in the position of telling something just as personal. In the end, wasn't that what he wanted? For Percy to... tell him what to do? Nico just didn't think it would spill over into life outside of sex. But if Percy wanted to know, he'd make Percy regret it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So, how was it? The update came faster, didn't it? It's easier when the chapters are shorter. I hope you enjoyed it. Did Nico overdo it? I don't know. But I think he's a bit touch starved, you know? When you miss someone so much that being close to them overwhelms you. I think the same goes for Percy.

Any way, It was fun. I hope you are enjoying. I would like to know what you think about it. See you all next week!

[gaypleasantview]

life rant below:

everything feels so messy, i haven't been able to go to the doctor because of my social anxiety but i think something may be deeply wrong with my body bc i have symptoms of what could be a bad chronic illness?? i hope i can make an appointment this week bc im putting it off and its just devastating me. ive realized the only moments i can be brave despite my horrible anxiety are when i think of my life as something bizarre. like, my life is a joke, kinda. it makes no sense. i had no plans for adulthood but never in my life have i ever planned to seek refuge in a different country, that's for sure. and we're so lonely here, we have no one to hang with in our city, im not a big person for meeting irl but there was always someone, i had friends in uni, even in school, i had flatmates back home, now i only see friends once every few months and most of them i havent seen for so long at all. its been a year like this and i had no idea it would be so damaging to me and my perception of reality, i feel like im in a constant state of dissociation kinda because how could you accept this new reality? i still think somewhere in me that this is all a dream i'll wake up from one day and yeah, i may be gravely afraid of talking to the post office lady or whatever, but how hard can it be when perhaps the worst thing that could happen in anyone's life's basically already happened? i just hope the doctor won't gaslight me again, last time he told me my headaches are due to the post-war stress but my man the day before it happened i sat at my shitty job (want it to go bankrupt lol fucking bigots) and i felt soo fucking bad? i hope i at least get prescribed glasses or whatever. i dont know. and its funny because life is way better now than it was before anyway bc im less fucking poor but it still sucks ass im so tired and i need a therapist which also idk where to find them so as im searching for the possibilities im just venting here for some relief. yeah thats somewhat new. i miss home

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

I want to write a post about how I hate that you have to dress up to go to the doctor to be treated like a person, but because this is the internet I know how this goes ("well ACTUALLY, you don't! dress how you want! it doesn't matter!") and it is tedious.

Also very America centric but hey. remember that I live in an affluent part of a conservative state.

There is no nice way to say this. If you dress kind of alt-y, be that alternative fashion or subculture or gender identity or sexuality, most of those markers don't set off the bigotry you might assume.

it's that the professional class thinks that you're poor. And if the doctor thinks you're poor--HAHAHA, healthcare?!?! you think you get healthcare, PEASANT?! you don't!

A long time ago I was 23 and very obviously dying and the ER would not take me. A more adult-y adult in my life sighed, took out all my piercings, fished a button up out of her trunk. she put my glasses back on my face even though my head hurt and my vision swirled so bad I could barely see. she took off my rainbow wristbands and my skull rings. she hid my cool bi girl haircut under a hat. my ataxia ridden ass had to be button upped in that shirt by my beloved (my fingers didn't work) and half carried back to the ER. I might have been bridal carried back to the ER. I don't really remember.

this whole process took maybe 20 minutes.

but then! guess who looked like a respectable college student?! guess who got admitted into the ER because she has having OBVIOUS STROKE SYMPTOMS?

I spent two weeks in the neuro ICU. I had emergency brain surgery.

I want you to understand: I was just a little too punk and maybe a teensy bit maybe gay to live. A little bit too probably poor. They would not even admit me to the ER before my lil parking lot make over.

When I say my symptoms were obvious, I mean they were OBVIOUS. cross eyed, couldn't walk--worst fuckin' headache of my entire life, as you'd guess.

and just.

it was bad.

so anyway. I'm salty.

And the problem is that this is one of those liminal spaces, walk between worlds thing. I know that it's the poverty markers because I am always looking unlike the thing I was raised as. My father is a retired ambassador--this does me no good. It does my stepsister much good. My beloved's family is well monied and he refuses to accept a cent from them, so the house we live in is more modest than the one his sister lives in.

Our friends are mostly people we met either in undergrad or during that age and of a certain SES. Which we also are--mostly--which we look like we are, because we are, except for how we're also not because there's something about the upbringing that you never lose, something in how you talk no matter how good your code switching is.

That is: if I "dress up" to go to the doctor, I am treated like an affluent person. I am treated kindly and respectfully, offered prescription drugs with no suspicion, referred to other departments for testing, and verily, my complaints are valid.

(rx drugs including painkillers! including my ADHD meds! including a variety of ADHD meds, where if you don't look like a respectable upper middle class or above person, the pharmacist treats you like a criminal!)

If I do not dress up to go to the doctor--and I mean if I roll in wearing my batman tee and some jeans; I don't even mean dressing like the slutty goth tramp I love to pretend to be--I do not get referrals or prescriptions. Everything is assumed to be my fault, if it's acknowledged to exist at all. Ear infection? Nope. You're making up. Stroke symptoms? It's all the drugs you obviously did. Crippling ovarian pain? You're just trying to scam us for more drugs. Oh you're allergic to morphine? Liar. You're just trying to scam some GOOD drugs.

[here I projectile vomit over the poor nurse who put an IV with a morphine derivative in my arm like 30 seconds ago]

[my body may or may not also break out into hives]

and it's just so tedious and it's such dystopian garbage. it's absurd and obscene and actually evil that we have such marvelous medical care that's so fucking IMPOSSIBLE for most people to access while it would still do them some good.

Mine is the guilt of the shapeshifter. If I play the game, it works. I have the ability to play the game--up to a point.

(But I am playing, and it is not natural. I don't have the right done hair, the right mani-pedi upkept nails, the tailored to fit wardrobe, the luxury by default shoes. that hasn't been my life for a long time and it was never my life as an adult so I don't know how to do it habitually. It's ridiculously resource intensive and even if I do my best there's only a certain threshold of respectability I can hit. There's so much of it that I just don't understand.)

(I want you to understand that I am not even particularly good at this game, and it has layers.)

What about everyone who can't play the game? Who are also frankly lied to, continuously, that the game doesn't exist? What about them? What about my fucking friends, actually? What about literally everybody else? Why do they have to be treated like shit and then literally fucking die if something goes wrong?

But at the end of the day, also, what can I do? I put on the pale pink high neckline dress. I put on the modest shoes. I use the correct type of voice, the right accent, so rigid in my mouth I can't slip into my mother tongue when I hear the custodians talking as they go down the hall. I go get my knee looked at. I explain I do Important Athletic Sports at [Brand Name Bougie Ass Gym]. I get the x-rays and the painkillers instead of a lecture on my weight or my activity choices. I have a lovely and pleasant experience. I am treated like a human being.

A grand and lovely time until I make it back to my car and collapse in a heap, exhausted and angry because this is all such BULLSHIT.

(what about my brother, halfway across this big country, who can't play the game?)

And so many people still think the game doesn't exist.

I don't know, you guys. I dunno. I don't know what my point is. I am sorry it is like this. I don't know what to do about it. It should not be like this. I don't use the word lightly but I do think it is actually really fucking evil that it's like this.

[professionalwaterbender]

chipotle order?

bowl with chicken and like beans or smth idk

thoughts on veganism?

cool, I don't really judge <33

a specific color that gives you the ick?

orange i dunno i just dont like specific shades it gives me a headache

mythical creature you think/believe is real?

fairies/mermaids like be so fr half of the things in this world cant be explained

favorite form of potato?

mashed all the way

do you use a watch?

used to, i still need one, but my mom said i wasn't allowed to wear one anymore (dunno why)

what animal do you look forward to seeing when you visit an aquarium?

THE EELS AND THE SHARKS AN THE RAYS THEYRE MY BABIES

do you change into specific clothes for the house when you get home?

yep yep, something loose and warm, with socks

do you have a skincare routine (and how many steps is it)?

pfft no who am i aphrodite (but in all honesty i need one my skin is ❌not❌ it

on a plane, do you ask for apple or orange juice?

apple on a plane, but orange anywhere else (not sure why its just the ✨vibe✨

anything from your childhood you’ve held on to?

nothing that i can remember off the top of my head, everything that was once mine is my sister's now

brand of haircare/bodycare/skincare that you trust 100%?

aveeno for lotion, hamam for soap, and pantene/that one indian shampoo for my hair

first thing you’re doing in the purge?

stealing money and giving it out to people who are in desperate need of it

do you think you’re dehydrated?

always i barely drink water

rank the methods of death: freezing, burning, drowning

from horrible to worst (high to low) -> burning, drowning, freezing (i speak only from my pov bc ive experienced both so the first two are obviously first, never froze before)

thoughts on mint chocolate chip?

hell yes

an anxious compulsion you do everyday?

crack my knuckles/pick my lips

your boba/tea order?

mango? i think @tabsters got ghost one and i had stole it so i dont know what it is

the veggie you dislike the most?

none, actually, i love vegetables

favorite disney princess movie?

moana

a number that weirds you out?

91 its just weird

do you have an emotional support water bottle?

pfft i dont even drink water

do you wear jewelry?

yes i love

which do you find yourself using, american or british english?

british english which is weird because i have never stepped foot into the uk

would you say you have good taste in music?

i think so? i like my music

how’s your spice tolerance?

on a scale from 1-10, 8.7

what’s your favorite or go-to outfit?

long shirts and jeans, and a fluffy and loose jacket

last meal on earth?

paneer biriyani

preferred pasta noodle?

fetuccine

ask me anything!!!

all my mutuals do this now

weirdly specific and unrelated asks to know someone well:

chipotle order?

thoughts on veganism?

a specific color that gives you the ick?

mythical creature you think/believe is real?

favorite form of potato?

do you use a watch?

what animal do you look forward to seeing when you visit an aquarium?

do you change into specific clothes for the house when you get home?

do you have a skincare routine (and how many steps is it)?

on a plane, do you ask for apple or orange juice?

anything from your childhood you’ve held on to?

brand of haircare/bodycare/skincare that you trust 100%?

first thing you’re doing in the purge?

do you think you’re dehydrated?

rank the methods of death: freezing, burning, drowning

thoughts on mint chocolate chip?

an anxious compulsion you do everyday?

your boba/tea order?

the veggie you dislike the most?

favorite disney princess movie?

a number that weirds you out?

do you have an emotional support water bottle?

do you wear jewelry?

which do you find yourself using, american or british english?

would you say you have good taste in music?

how’s your spice tolerance?

what’s your favorite or go-to outfit?

last meal on earth?

preferred pasta noodle?

ask me anything !

leave an ask for the person you reblog it from!

[hopcrow]

im having issues contextualizing my pain levels esp from these titty headaches (??) i get so ima type it out.

ive gone to various doctors multiple times being like “i think my (clearly excessively large) breasts are causing neck/shoulder issues” and explaining the headaches it gives me are the worst pain ive ever felt but every time they tell me to take ibuprofen and send me home. one of them prescribed me one (1) single dose of a muscle relaxer. which i already had a script for.

what i think i actually NEED: imaging of my neck and shoulder (just in case, bc i have a long history of bone spurs and joint damage), physical therapy to strengthen surrounding muscles, possible shot of corticosteroids, eventual breast reduction

like i know I LOOK v young and female, but idk why else im getting blown off? this isnt anything wild or unexpected. i had a C cup at age eight and they did not stop increasing dude

various painful/medical reference under cut

reference pains ive had:

1/10: normal daily joint pain in hands, knees, shoulders. its fine. more informational than anything else

2/10: joints before a storm; period cramps. may take ibuprofen

3/10: walking on broken toe; average tmj flare up. hurts, but i can tune it out. may be a bit cranky. often warrants ibuprofen + heating pad

4/10: perforated eardrum, bad tmj. pretty dang annoying, hard to tune out. would take tylenol AND ibuprofen (alternating), use ice/heat. would consider tramadol if i need to be productive

5/10: peak of migraine, bad sinus headache, hip or back spasms. im going to be nonfunctional but can watch tv or listen to podcast. time to take ‘smaller’ prescription meds ie tramadol or muscle relaxer

6/10: contrast injection into hip joint space; having stitches taken out of inside of my nose. i would want to hold someones hand for these but not in crying pain

7/10: hip bones impinging (tearing thru labrum); IUD insertion. enough pain to make me see stars for a second, but bearable. if its not acute i would take tylenol with codeine or smth more serious like that

8/10: the no-bra headache. i cant think about anything else. involuntarily whimpering/writhing around, often consider trying to get to ER (but i know they wont do anything). for hours. dry heaving from pain. i’ll take whatever painkiller i can get with frantic desperation. tramadol is useless. hydrocodone helps but not 100%.

9/10: never gotten here? maybe childbirth?

10/10: to rate 10 i would have to be passing out from pain, never hit this

[so-much-nonsense]

an episode

today started out in one the worst ways possible. my sleep was disturbed. forcing me to go somewhere i have zero interest in. something binding me to staying there so that i couldnt leave in bw. feels like hell. i watched a movie, and it felt like the whole world judged me for it. all the conversations include my dad and i am gonna throw up all over if they dont stop. i am everywhere i am happily only if i do not hear about him. listening to anything that includes him makes me sick. and seems like everyone around me forgot to grow up. conversing like children, fighting, hanging over the same topic for a million years, keep fighting with no logics. pls make this end. and i had 2 episodes today and one yesterday night. i hate being forced to do something and i think that is what is causing these and they are developing headaches. this is a real issue bc, obviously, and also bc ive never had headaches before this, in my life, ever. i just cried briefly for 2 seconds before i got interrupted. what do i hate about this? everything. i just want to live peacefully and fucking everything everyone around me does is triggering me. i cannot help but think maybe its me. but then, what can i do to change any of this? completely blacked out, unable to breath, headaches, rotting in bed, pulling my hair hoping this pain will distract me from the pain in my heart. and the worst part is that i am in this alone. nobody understands neither do they try. this is what is pushing me into this hole of not caring about anything. to just plug in and be on my phone or just sleep and pretend that nothing is happening. when i know very well the moment i turn the volume down im gonna be haunted down. if not by others, then by my own thoughts. i have no idea what will help. my dress, my hair, my face, my body, my footwear, my bag, my phone, my laptop, my behaviour, my character, my personality, my fitness, my mind, my friends, my education, my music choices, people have opinions about everything. fuck it they judge my sleep schedule. i wouldnt care if its some random people, but ur own family? something u thought u could rely on and tell things to? when u think of someone as the most important person in ur life throughout ur life time and u see them spiralling and love them regardless but something is just off? i dont even know if i can talk to someone freely without any consequences anymore. heck, im only now realising how long its been since ive talked to a person honestly and comfortably, being myself, without giving every single one of my words much thought. its been so long since ive built up these walls. being alone now feels like the new normal. and anything else is just contrary it, and ive convinced myself this is for the best. not because it is but because it is the only option i have left. CONTRARY. as i am just writing this, my aunt comes upto me and tells me how she loves me sm and not to be mad at her if she points out something about me. i mean, im never really mad. im dissapointed. im so dissapointed in everyone, it would take another lifetime to talk about it. but i wont because idc. I DO NOT CARE.

[bookwyrminspiration]

You are like a book character thats just. Yeah what did i expect from a name like that bnfjfjfjf

Yo on the reading tho!?? I feel the revitalized pjo interest im staring at my pjo books like. Soon soon i will get to u (THO IM MISSING A FEW OF THEM AND I DONT KNOW WHERE THEYVE GONE. THEYVE BEEN STOLEN I SWEAR) i actually have been trying to read actual books again and!!! I finished one finally!!! Only took me like a month bmgkfkfk i finished call down the hawk and my local library is ab to murder me for how long ive had it-

Dude okay so i work at a movie theater right and ive wanted to see boy and the heron so badly ive just been so busy im staring at it and like ten other movies like pls i need free time. Other than that i got baldurs gate 3 and have been wandering through a world download for a minecraft series i like. And im once again cursed by my inability to finish fics so my solution is write all of it then post and now i have like two 15k wips just sitting in my notes app ive been trying to finish for like two years T-T

I've read so many books I've started to become them, and honestly? There are worst fates. I think I'd make a good like...wise character. Like the one the main character goes to when they have a question and I pull on information I don't explain how I got and set them on their quest or something. Or they discover a cursed magic item and they're like, well Quil probably knows something useful. And then I do.

Anyway! Congrats on the reading! I actually did so much reading, writing, and drawing the past week that I gave myself a headache three days in a row. Like I legit had to just sit for an hour yesterday doing nothing. I've been meaning to read Call Down the Hawk since it came out--I actually started it back then, but for some reason I only got to the part right after the crabs(?) in the dorm where Ronan gets kicked out, and then cries(?) in the garden(?). But I fully intend to return to it, I love the world of trc. And Ronan's my favorite. so.

and the pjo thing!! i've been blasting through them at the rate of about one a day just like oh my god I forgot how much I loved these. the writing style is just so fun. currently half-way through mark of athena, but I had to stop because I do this thing every year where the first book I read is a twilight book for shits and giggles, so I gotta finish life and death before I go back to it (i'm already about 3/4ths of the way done so not a huge detour).

Oh right the boy and the heron! I forgot I mentioned that--I saw it yesterday! I'll admit it did contribute to my headache, because big bright screen in a dark room is...not great. my laptop gives me headaches sometimes, but anyway. I don't think it's my favorite ghibli film, but it had a draw to it. it's quite beautiful, and it's thought provoking in its way. very ghibli-esque.

bg3!! I haven't played myself (doesn't seem my kind of game), but I will admit I did have a few moments of just being enraptured by astarion. which is so cliche of me, but what can I say? his dialogue was funny.

good luck with all of your fics though--I've got a handful that are just waiting to be edited before I post them. but the wings au and then gift exchanges took precedent, so they've been sitting a while. but! those are over now! so I plan to edit and finally post them soon. I've also got this kotlc book 1 but from fitz's pov project in the works I'm very excited to return to :)

anyway, it is very nice to hear from you tater!! giving you the biggest high five rn o7 spicy gatorade or something

[phawareglobal]

Kaitlyn Salonga - phaware® interview 424

Canadian pulmonary hypertension patient, Kaitlyn Salonga discusses the impact PH has had on her job, her relationship and her mental wellbeing. 

My name is Kaitlyn Solanga. I'm from Vancouver, BC. I have been a patient of idiopathic PH since December, 2018. For about six months before I was in the hospital, I was having a hard time sleeping through the night. I'd wake up gasping for air. I wasn't sure what was wrong. I thought it was anxiety. At work I started to notice that I couldn't walk as far as I used to be able to without having to catch my breath. It got to the point where I couldn't walk across the street without having to pause. I went to get a puffer refilled once by a tele-doctor. They said, "You don't have asthma. Why are you getting a puffer refilled? You need to go get a chest x-ray." The next day I went to go get a chest x-ray, and I was admitted to the hospital for a month right before Christmas. That was how I spent my holiday season of 2018. It took about seven days for anybody to even say the words pulmonary hypertension. I was bounced around from hospital to hospital, because not every hospital, as I learned, has the same resources for tests and stuff. It just so happened that Vancouver is the lung center. At the time I was in a different city, so I had to get transferred over there and learn a whole new medical system and meet whole new doctors that said, "Okay, all of these other tests came back negative. Turns out you have pulmonary hypertension." For me, I was so far along that just going on oral meds wasn't really an option. It was straight to one of the IV pumps. Our nurse at the time described that to me. The first thing I remember asking is, "Oh, so I don't get to go swimming anymore?" I've tried a couple of things. I have tried like a water skiing jacket. I initially tested that out to see if it could help me wash my hair because that's one of the huge pain points of being on a pump is taking showers, doing the full hair wash because it's no longer hop in the bathroom, a five minute process. It is now, put the dressing on, put the gauze between, tape everything up. If you're really, really careful, you do the Glad Press'n Seal routine over the line and everything like that. I've tried a couple things. None of them have been fully swim-proof, but I'm hopeful. Unfortunately, the pump process was a two-parter for me, because it took them a while to get somebody who can actually do the Hickman line insertion. For the first week or so, I was on a PICC line, which means there is an IV in my arm instead of going straight through my chest. That was pain that I didn't need to experience. Then of course, I remember the worst parts of the procedure where they put my Hickman line in, unfortunately, but that led to actually being able to get on the medicine. Titrating was not fun. It was a lot of headaches and fatigue, but eventually you get a sweet spot where the medicine works for you and you can kind of walk again. You can walk across the street, you can walk to the grocery store, you can lift your groceries. That was a really, really nice point to get to, but it was a lot of work to get there. Originally when I was diagnosed, I was in a very high demand leadership role on a finance team, which was not ready to accommodate any sort of accessibility or time off needs. Once my short-term disability was up with that company, I actually had to leave it because their long-term disability options weren't going to work for me. Then I took a couple years off to just relearn how to become mobile, have time to titrate up more for my meds and stuff like that. Eventually I got to a point where I could work 30 hours a week, so not full-time, but enough to bring in a little bit of income, do it independently, and still be able to balance all of my medical issues at the same time. I was essentially in quarantine about a year longer than everybody else. Because I was diagnosed at the end of 2018, I kind of spent a little bit of time feeling kind of awful because of all the titrating. Then COVID happened. It was extra scary as somebody who was extra vulnerable. I was really careful to stay inside, kind of minimized my interactions with people who were in my life who had traveled or anything like that. It was really isolating and lonely for a while. I had a very good support system of virtual supports that I could reach out to. Because I was diagnosed in December, 2018, I just missed the last PHA Canada conference that was held in Vancouver, my hometown, by about three months. Every single time somebody tells me, "Oh, we had the last conference in Vancouver," I'm like, "I just missed it," so that's too bad but I was not without very good resources and supports. My nurses were very communicative. Everybody says they've got the best team, and I'm like, "No, I've got the best team." They were very quick to give me resources to PHA Canada and set me up with a counselor to kind of just work through all of this offline. It's very interesting being here solo. I recently left my partner of 11 years because they decided that they did not want to financially support a sick person anymore, which is something very harsh to hear. It really opened my eyes to a better version of life that I could be living maybe without somebody who felt that way about me. I am here and I am looking at these people with their husbands and their children and their mothers and their siblings that are all here to support them, and I'm very aware that I am doing a lot on my own. I unfortunately am estranged from some of my family and a lot of my friends are located a little bit further away from me than it is really accessible. I live alone in a studio apartment, but I'm trying to make it work. A lot of the space is dedicated to boxes of syringes and cassettes and everything like that, but it's a space that's mine and it's a new beginning. It's hard. It's definitely not easy. I do feel alone a lot of the time, but I know that I am not without people who I can reach out to if it gets to be at that point. Unfortunately, life doesn't stop for PH. It keeps on going, and it's unfortunately not the worst thing that I'm dealing with or that I have ever dealt with in my life. My body really just goes into fight or flight mode. I know I have to get this done to get through the day. So yeah, I'll mix even if the rest of my life is falling apart and even if I just had to pick up all of my stuff from my ex's house, but there's still tomorrow. Everybody's different. It's no use comparing your experience to someone else's to see at three months they were doing this much and maybe at three months you are still titrating up and still getting rid of these side effects and still going through all of that. There's no use saying, "Oh, my six minute walk test wasn't as good as theirs." Everybody's got their own experience and their own bodies, and eventually you'll find something that works for you that will be your saving grace. A lot of what I struggled with in the beginning was just learning how to get dressed in the morning with a pump and this tubing and where do I insert it? Does it go through the sleeve? Does it go through the collar of the shirt? Of course, it's different for men and women. We have to work with a bra or something like that. Where are you going to wear this giant game boy sized thing? How I perceived myself in the mirror was a very large hurdle that I had to come over, but I was very fortunate recently to work with another differently abled artist, and we actually did a boudoir photo shoot of me and my pump, where I was the feature and not my pump. I even wore my CPAP for it. It was the most really liberating and celebratory experience that I could not be more proud of those photos. My name's Kaitlyn Solanga, and I'm aware that I'm rare.

Learn more about pulmonary hypertension trials at www.phaware.global/clinicaltrials. Follow us on social @phaware Engage for a cure: www.phaware.global/donate #phaware Share your story: info@phaware.com @phacanada 

Listen and View more on the official phaware™ podcast site

[suzyblue0292]

@r7skt sorry it took so long to reply. Had to do the teaching before I could type about the teaching.

Two quick misconceptions about teaching:

1. We are not 12month employees. We are contracted employees for the months school is in session. Some if not most schools with hold part of each month’s paycheck so we can survive in the summer. A few schools expect you to do this yourself. Which is hard because if there’s an emergency then that money is very tempting.

Despite that most teachers work on their curriculum, classrooms, and professional development (all of which we often pay for out of our own pockets) during those non-contract months.

Many of us also work other jobs during that time - and the school year.

2. We don’t just work the hours school is in session. We have stated contract hours we are to be on campus- generally around 30 minutes before and after first and last bells. Most teachers are there hours before after or both at least a few days a week. And that’s just teachers - coaches, principals, counselors live at the school. Coaches have to run practices, there has to be a principal at every school event, counselors and principals are drowning in paperwork. And that just covers the work we do at school- most of us work at home as well. The reason any teacher protest/walkout begins with a contract hours only step is because schools don’t function when those are the only hours we work.

The kids are the worst part of teaching. The kids are the only reason I teach. There’s nothing better than seeing a kid “get it.” Or building relationships with them. They are sweet and helpful and funny. Loving them is so fucking easy.

There is nothing more exhausting than being insulted to your face by people you care about more than anything just for doing your job/the right/adult thing.

When I worked in tech one of my supervisors said that 10 percent of your clients cause 90 percent of your problems. Same thing in teaching. Most kids know when they’ve screwed up and will own it. But oh my god the ones that don’t. Whatever they did or didn’t do is your fault not theirs. And 9 times out of 10 their parents will come for you and maybe your job as well. And the thing is you love the kids anyway. Which is why it hurts so much.

Just Google Ed laws if you’re not already familiar with the BS going on in various states right now. Ryan Walters in particular will bring you a wealth of insanity.

Trying to create an ELA curriculum is beyond headache creating in our current political climate. Granted I teach in a rural school (although I have taught at large ones) in a Bible Belt state.

Do not believe anything you see on the inspirational teaching movies. It doesn’t work like that.

Teaching is a lot more than standing in front of a room talking or even marking papers. You plan the lessons for each week (I prep 20 a week - each 50 minutes long because I teach English I, II, III, IV). Once you know what you’re teaching you have to get together the materials for all the lessons printed/posted, etc. then you teach it, then you grade it, then you analyze the data from the grades work to see if the kids learned it or if you need to reteach it. Generally while fielding emails and verbal complaints about why you’re not grading faster, because someone has always turned something in late that they want graded immediately. You’re also dealing with discipline issues, tech issues, issues from whatever club you sponsor, setting up testing dates, taking webinars. I am also my school’s coordinator for our states career portfolio program that all kids have to complete before graduation. And if you teach English every branch of the military will come to your class to give recruitment speeches multiple times junior and senior year. In fact anyone the school allows to speak with the kids that isn’t an assembly will happen in English because it the only required 4 year course so they get to everyone. Same with paperwork- need to get it everyone- English dept.

How much time do you have in your day to complete all these non teaching tasks? 50 minutes. And your 20 minute lunch. I’m fortunate enough to work at a school where they allow you to work at your desk if the kids are working, but some schools require teachers to be on their feet walking the room if there are kids present.

If you have questions hit me up!!

I’ll continue if I can think of anything else, but I’ve got lesson plans to finish for Monday😭🤣😭🤣

I know a lot of people hc Jason as an English teacher. I like it, I do. But let me be real with you 9 days out of 10 this is the conversation he comes home to:

“How was work?”

“I fucking miss being a crime lord. That’s how.”

[baurbiediv]

plan b, pt. 2

requested: no

summary: the aftermath of the incident isn’t looking too good for jack, he wants to find a way to make it up to reader

warnings: crying, cursing, yelling, vomit, mention of iv drip

y/bf/n: your best friend’s name

author’s note: this might be a little long cause i tend to get carried away, but enjoy

-

the next morning was a terrible morning for both you and jack. he woke up with the worst hangover he’s ever had.

urban sat in the kitchen as he heard his best friend groaning while walking down the stairs.

jack reluctantly made his way to the kitchen, covering his eyes now dealing with the headache he was now dealing with. “damn you look like shit.” urban snickered as he tried to cover it by coughing.

jack rolled his eyes, before groaning for what seemed like the millionth time in the past 5 minutes.

“the hell did you drink last night?” urban questioned as he sat up in his seat. jack shook his head, “it’s not even that, i fucked up urb. i fucked up real bad.” he sighed.

now, urban looked at his best friend in complete and utter confusion. “what are you talking about?” urban questioned him.

jack sighed and placed his hands on the table, “last night i came home drunk, y/n was really upset and worried about me, i shrugged it off and got mad,” he deeply exhaleed before speaking again, “i said some shit i didn’t mean .. i shoved her onto the ground.”

jack felt like he was about to cry, but why should he be crying? he wasn’t the one that was hurt, it was you.

he was supposed to protect you, care for you, and love you, yet he couldn’t do that.

urban looked at jack, his face contorted with disgust. “have you lost your fucking mind? you put your hands on her?” now urban was standing up from his seat, it was evident that he was past upset.

“you know good and goddamn well, you swore you’d never put your hands on y/n.” urban spat, all he could do was look at his best friend as if he was some unknown stranger on the street.

“until you find some fucking way to apologize to the girl you so call love, do NOT call my phone jack, i mean that shit.” urban nearly yelled at jack before leaving the house.

on the other hand, you were trying your best to forget about that night. for as long as you could recall, you’ve been in the hospital for what seemed to be over a week.

your concussion was at it’s all time worst. you were constantly vomiting, you had a constant ringing in your ears, and you were always tired. you had an iv drip in your arm to ensure you were hydrated.

this possibly had to be the worst thing that ever happened to you. you felt miserable, horrible, and defeated. you truly loved jack, but to even think he could put his hands on you is something that you never even knew was possible.

y/bf/n came to check up on you and she hasn’t left since, you were so thankful to have her. she kept you company, even if it was just the two of you.

a knock on the door had you turning your heads towards the door, you both looked at each other before focusing your attention back to the door. “come in!” you slightly shouted, in came urban, with our favorite flowers.

you smiled brightly and watched your friend leave the room so she could give you two some breathing room.

urban sat in the seat next to your bed as he handed you the flowers, “thank you.” you smiled at him.

an awkward silence had fallen before he took a deep breath before he could find the right words to say to you, “jack told me what happened last night,” urban saw how you tensed up at his words, “i cursed him out for it y/n. i know i stick up for jack a lot, not this time around, he promised he would never hurt you and he fucked up.” urban huffed.

it happened when you least unexpected it, tears were falling down your face uncontrollably. urban got up from his seat and sat next to you. you scooted closer to him and hugged him as tight as you could, he wrapped his arms around you as he kissed the top of your head.

“i love you y/n and you know that, i’m here for you, i always have been and i always will be.”

couple weeks later

HARLOWUPDATES

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HARLOWUPDATES jack tonight out celebrating a close friend’s birthday (08.16.22)

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JACKSERENITY i thought him and that one girl were still together?

FAIRYVEX jack cannot seem to keep his dick in his pants omg 

NEPTTUNE imagine what how his supposed girlfriend is feeling looking at this post, sending all my love to her

GASLASY maybe this girl really is just a friend y’all let’s not jump to conclusions here

liked by JACKHARLOW

LOSTBLUNT poor y/n man, the girl deserves so much better, much love to her

—

looking at that photo made you want to vomit. it’s been nearly three weeks since you’d last seen jack, or even heard a word from him.

truth be told, you didn’t even want to see him. it was apparent that he didn’t bother to make and effort to check up on you or to even remotely care and see if you were okay.

he was out partying like there was no tomorrow, especially with other girls. on the other hand, jack was still sulking. he couldn’t forgive himself for what he did, he didn’t really think he never could excuse himself.

clay was with jack now, sitting next to him, two men sitting on jack’s couch. clay was in disbelief and in complete and utter shock. “so you put her hands on her because you came home drunk and she was worried, is what i’m hearing.” he spoke, it didn’t get better every time jack had to tell someone about what happened.

he felt more and more guilty any time he had to say anything about the ordeal.

this was definitely not easy for him at all. this is and was quite literally the biggest fuck up jack had ever had to deal with in his life.

“you need to go find her and talk to her jack.” clay vocalized. jack shook his head, “clay she hates me, i know she does. i can’t, i was supposed to be there for her, and i fucked it all up.”

jack erupted into tears, he’d never felt so vulnerable in his life.

everything he had ever loved, felt like it was slipping away.

a week later

jack found himself at yet another club, trying to party all his worries away. much to his knowledge, you had been in the same club he had been in.

it felt good to be out with all your friends again. jack was over in his section, looking like he was seemingly happy and enjoying himself. urban tapped his friends shoulder as jack’s eyes landed on you.

you looked happy as you were dancing with your friends, the club was erupted in yelling as lizzo’s ‘truth hurts’ was blaring through the speakers.

jack felt as if he was going to fall down to his knees. you looked good, not even good, you looked amazing. you wore a black dressas you were dancing you turned around to see jack looking at you.

you mouthed the song lyrics to him, “hey i’m glad you’re back with your bitch, i mean who would wanna hide this? i will never ever ever ever ever be your side chick.” you winked at him before going back to your friends.

jack could hear urban laughing behind him. the night was winding down and you and your friends began heading out the club. walking out jack tried his best to catch up with you as he eventually did.

“y/n?” he spoke softly, you turned around to face him as you waved off your friends and signaled for them to wait up for you. “hi jack.” you sighed, you told yourself you were doing so well without having to talk to him, now here was the hard part.

“i know, you probably hate me right now .. don’t get me wrong, that’s understandable. i’m really sorry for pushing you. i should’ve came to visit you in the hospital but i just wasn’t ready and i’m sure you weren’t either. i really want to make this up to you, i need to make things right between us.” he said.

jack truthfully and honestly never felt more shitty in his life.

you smiled and nodded your head. jack felt a smile spread across his face. he watched as you pulled out your phone, and present it to him and you swore you’d never seen his smile fade so quickly.

you shut your phone off and placed it before clapping your hands together and scoffing, “you know it’s funny, all that time i was in the hospital i worried about you, more worried than i should’ve been. you didn’t call me not even ONCE! so for you to sit here and say you’re sorry, is complete and utter bullshit. and then i see you hanging out with some random bitch at her birthday party,” by now you were fuming and the only thing you were seeing was red. and people began crowding around the two of you while pulling their phones out to record.

“you cannot and will not expect me to sit here and actually believe you’re sorry. this is one sorry ass apology and it’s one that i sure as hell won’t fucking accept. you’re not sorry, you’re only sorry that you got caught in your web of fucking lies.” you placed your hand on his chest and you watched as he looked at you, “i hope your new bitch is happy, she can have your sloppy ass cause i’m sure as hell she’d appreciate sloppy seconds anyway.”

you patted his chest before walking away and getting into the cars with your friends before driving away.

[daechwitatamic]

Don't Be Scared || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Complete Faith

POV Drabble #8: Don't Be Scared

WC: 2.6k

Warnings: angst, hospital visit, lots of MS talk, kissing, language

The Request:

@pamzn sorry for the delay on this one!!! I hope it delivers!

A/N: This is the second half of Chapter 10 :)

Sunday is a disaster - the worst Taehyung can remember since he was a teenager. His mother is incapacitated by the pain of her headaches, spending long hours clutching her head and crying. Not to mention that this attack - Taehyung is sure this is a full-scale MS attack, even though they don’t have the brain scans to prove it yet - has left her entire left side feeling weakened, her vision blurry.

His father had taken her to the hospital on Saturday night, but they’d treated her for the headache and sent them home again. Then on Sunday, the rest of the symptoms came on strong - the blurred, darkened vision, the weakening of her arm and leg on the left side. By Sunday night, she can barely move them at all.

He and his father beg to take her back to the hospital, but she remains stubborn, wanting to wait it out. 

“Jagiya,” Taehyung’s father says softly, voice quiet, just for her. “Let’s go, okay? We’ll get Dr. Khan to order a start to the steroids. There’s no point in suffering.”

Taehyung’s not sure why she resists - pride, maybe. But probably she just hates sitting for long hours while the IV steroids run at the out-patient section of the hospital, hates how the steroids make her too energized, to where she can’t sleep and will wake up and scrub the stovetop at three in the morning. Probably she hates how they give her a moon-face and make her act mean. (“Meanness” is literally listed as a side-effect, Taehyung looked it up when he was sixteen and thought she hated him for a few weeks.) 

On Monday morning, Taehyung’s father reluctantly gets ready for work. Taehyung hasn’t been home except to grab clean clothes since before his trip for Nikki’s birthday - he hasn’t even been able to think about all the things that happened with you since he stepped back into his childhood household, his mother’s misery eclipses everything else in his brain. 

“I’ll talk to my boss, try to get out early,” Taehyung’s father tells him. “See if you can get her to go. She listens to you.”

Taehyung lets his mother sleep as long as she’s able in the morning; when she wakes it’s clear that she’s lost all use of her left arm. This makes her cry, and that makes Taehyung’s stomach hurt. He starts calling her neurologist's office as soon as it opens; he gets put on hold and left there.

He just wants to ask an adult - a real adult - what he should do. 

Mid-morning, Taehyung decides he can’t take it anymore. “We’re going,” he tells her flatly. “I’m going to get you dressed, and we’ll leave. I’ll keep calling Dr. Khan on our way there.”

“I don’t want to just sit in the waiting room like this,” she protests. “If we wait for Dr. Khan then we can -.”

“No,” Taehyung says flatly. “At least they can give you something for the pain, even if we have to wait for the steroids.”

Behind him, from the living room, Taehyung thinks he hears his name being called. Then, once more, a little less timidly. He freezes. He knows that voice.

He rises, heads back to the living room. You look at him, bewildered, as if you can’t believe you’d just walked in uninvited. Honestly, he can’t believe it either. He’s sure you’re there to talk after everything that happened over the weekend, but he can’t right now, not when he’s deep in fix it mode with his mom. And why are you trying to talk to him during a weekday morning?

“Why are you in my house right now?” he asks. He’s already redialing Dr. Khan, ready to be put on hold until the call disconnects automatically for the fourth time that morning. “Never mind. Whatever this is, Y/N, I can’t do it right now. You need to go, now.” 

He’s not even looking at you, he’s looking at his phone. 

“Taehyung,” you say, and there’s something steely in your tone, something that tells him you’re taking no bullshit right now. “Let me help you.”

No. He almost says it. Behind him, his mother lets out a particularly pitiful sob before quieting again. The hold music on his phone starts to play. He needs to get his mother dressed and in the car. 

“Tae,” you say, whispering. “What’s going on? How can I help?”

You look scared, brows bunched together. You look like you’re about to reach out, to place gentle fingers on his shaking hands. 

“You can’t,” he snaps. He does not have the emotional capacity for this. You give him a look, crossing your arms over your chest and sticking out your chin. 

He always did love how stubborn you are.

He remembers you saying, on the day you’d left him, “when I needed you to be there and you stepped up, I let you.” Was that all he had done wrong? Was that all it would take to change fate?

Resigned, he says, “My dad got called in for a work emergency,” he tells you. “She can’t walk today. I’m trying to get her to the hospital.”

He watches your eyes widen in shock. “She can’t walk?” you parrot.

“She could yesterday, this hasn’t happened in years,” he explains. “I’m trying to get a hold of her neurologist to see if he can meet us at the hospital or-.”

“What else needs to happen?” you cut him off.

Taehyung gestures wildly. What needs to happen is a miracle, and he can’t exactly ask for that.  “I need to get her dressed and in the car. It’s hard when she can’t – her whole left side just doesn’t move when she wants it to.”

“I’ll do it,” you say, and honestly he’s never wanted to kiss you so much in his life. It’s not even a romantic thing, he’s just so damn relieved.  “Will she let me? I’ll get her ready, you call the people you need to call. Then we can get her in the car together.”

Taehyung nods, looking back at his phone, hanging up and dialing again. While you get her dressed, he walks through the kitchen and puts together the paperwork they need, finds his own wallet and keys. 

He carries his mother to the car, sets her gently in the passenger seat, helps her buckle in. You hover, holding the papers and his mother’s purse.

“I can take it from here,” he says. “Thank you for the help, but you should go back to work.”

Work. He realizes for the first time that he hadn’t remembered to call and say he was sick. 

You don’t answer him, just shake your head and climb in the backseat, buckling in and staring at him defiantly, challenging.

God, you’re so stubborn. It almost makes Taehyung smile. On a different day, it might have.

Taehyung rolls his eyes and gets into the driver’s seat. 

The rest of the afternoon is a blur. Taehyung remembers his mother getting whisked away to get imagining taken of her brain, so the hospital’s neurology team could confirm if she has an active lesion, judge the severity of it, make a decision. He remembers finally getting Dr. Khan on the phone, finally. He remembers his dad calling to say he was getting out of work within the hour and he’d come straight there.

He remembers you, listening intently as doctors spoke to him, holding his mother’s hand when they inserted an IV needle on the other hand, sitting beside him. Now and then you’d reach out and touch his shoulder gently, a nonverbal I’m here with you. You never left his side, not for a second.

“You can go home,” Taehyung tells you, once he knows his dad is on his way. “You can take my car - I'll just go home with my dad after he gets here.”

You frown at him like he’s said something offensive, and shake your head. “I’ll leave when you leave,” you say firmly. 

And who is Taehyung to argue? The next time you lean closer to his side, he reaches over and gives your shoulder a quick, thankful squeeze.

When his father arrives, the doctors fill him in. Mrs. Kim is sleeping, having received medication for the devastating headache and a round of IV steroids to calm the process that makes her limbs weak. When they release her, Taehyung helps his father get her back in the car. He watches as they drive away, and then turns to face you, feeling completely, utterly spent.

You look at him, your face softening with understanding and affection. Taehyung wonders absently when you’d started looking at him like that again. You used to, he remembers that expression well from their days at the lakehouse. After the break-up, you had barely looked at him at all, and never like this. 

“Let’s go back to your place,” you suggest. A little smile shows up on your face and you add, “You can shower and nap, I’ll order food.” It’s exactly what Taehyung had said to you, months ago, after the night your mother had gone missing, the day you’d fallen apart and he’d held you together, just like you’d done for him today. 

It was always mirrors with the two of you. Taehyung had noticed that from the start.

Taehyung feels like a robot, like he’s running on muscle-memory only. He gets you both back to his apartment, he showers, he collapses into bed. It doesn’t even occur to him to argue with you, to tell you to go home. Maybe he’s too drained to think about it. 

Maybe he likes that you’re there.

He wakes up some hours later feeling like a whole new person. He rolls onto his side, listening. He doesn’t hear any movement and wonders if you’ve gone home. He wouldn’t blame you - what’s the alternative, sitting alone in your ex’s living room while he napped behind a closed door? 

But to his surprise, he opens his bedroom door to find you sitting in the chair in the little nook he’d made for you, back when things were good between you. The fact that you’re there, specifically, and not over on the couch or something… Taehyung feels like he’s understanding something you’re saying silently. He smiles shyly, hoping he’s not wrong.

“Feel better?” you ask him, lowering your phone. “There’s take-out in the fridge.”

Taehyung realizes he hasn’t eaten today, and he’s definitely starving. But more pressing - you’re in his apartment, and you’re sitting in your nook that he made for you. 

“Amazing,” he says, and plops on the couch, his head on the arm, his legs stretched out. Despite napping, his body feels exhausted; he imagines it’s from all the adrenaline throughout the day. “What a fucking day,” he breathes.

“I’m glad it’s somewhat under control now,” you say seriously.

Taehyung snaps; he’d been holding on by the tiniest thread, and it’s over now. You’d shown up at his house unbidden, like your fucking Taehyung senses were tingling. You’d helped him through one of the hardest, scariest days he’s ever had. You’d stood by him all day, no matter how many times he told you to go home. 

And then you’d stayed, waited for him, and now you’re smiling at him so openly, like the wall you used to put up isn’t just down, it’s like it never even existed in the first place. 

He needs you in his arms now. He needs to hold you now or he’ll lose it.

“C’mere,” he murmurs. He doesn’t even have time to hope you listen before you’re up and moving. You perch lightly by his legs, looking at him expectantly. “Thank you for being there today,” he says, meaning this and so much more. Meaning this, and ‘thank you for saving me’. Meaning this, and ‘thank you for loving me, because I’m sure now that you do’. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up. That would have been a lot harder alone.”

“Taehyung,” you say, face pale. He can see your nerves - in the slight tremble of your fingers as they rest just above your thighs, in the breathiness as you say his name. “I have something I need to say to you.”

Taehyung pulls himself up so he’s not lying down anymore. He wants to look at you, wants to be fully participating in this conversation. “I’m all ears,” he tells you.

Don’t be scared, he thinks, something he should have told you fucking months ago. Maybe it would have saved you both some strife. 

He watches you gather your bravery, squaring your shoulders and looking him right in the eyes. “Tae,” you say, and he’s done right there, he doesn’t even need the rest. It’s all in your voice, it’s all in the way the one syllable falls from your mouth, alight, like it has wings of its own. “I want to apologize. I’m sorry for letting my fear be bigger than my trust.”

Taehyung fights the urge to shake his head at you. He doesn't need an apology from you. He doesn't need you to take the blame for the break-up. He doesn't need you to care for how he’d hurt in the time you were apart.

You huff out an anxious breath and continue. “But… I do trust you. I always did. I actually… fuck, I actually love you. I’ve loved you since the lake. I think I’ve loved you since you threw a water bottle at me after we fought.”

You pause, laughing at yourself, and Taehyung just stares, pulse racing in his ears, the noise of it roaring like his heart. It’s beyond what he wanted, beyond what he needed, leagues beyond what he deserves, and he honestly just wants you to come kiss him, but you’re still talking, voice trembling.

“I remember you telling me that no one ever fought for you - no one made you feel like you’re worth the fight.” 

Taehyung remembers that, too, remembers clearly the first time he had found the words for the gnawing feeling inside him. He remembers how talking to you about it had felt like… like no one else spoke his language for his whole life, and then you walked up and spoke it fluently. 

“I’m fighting,” you say, your voice breaking, and Taehyung clenches his hands into fists to stop from reaching for you, from interrupting you. “I want to be with you. I want to choose to trust you every day. I want to choose to love you every day.”

Taehyung is sure that whatever you’re going to say next is amazing, which is a shame, because he’s pulling you by the wrist into his lap, reaching for your face, mouth finding yours as soon as it's close enough. You kiss him back eagerly, straddling his lap. His hands find your face and he knows - he knows - this is what he was waiting for all those years. 

He knows he has something special with you. He knows that it means something that you two fought through so much bullshit to get here. He knows it matters that you were there for him today, when you owed him literally nothing. He knows that it must have been terrifying for you to apologize, to throw down your walls and admit you love him. 

He knows his heart is soaring as you kiss him, knows that you’re feeling it too.

He knows he’s in love with you - fully, deeply, completely. He’s known all along.

Thank you for reading! You can find my full masterlist here :)