#moving forward it's all clinical practice

[phantaloon]

what do you mean med students in the US take anatomy until actual med school?? like that's AFTER premed?? why wait so many years to give yall anatomy?? what do you even see in premed??

like i took anatomy my first year bc you need to know anatomy for everything else?? im so confused rn??

[star-anise]

are we talking about broke therapists yet?

I've been out of things for a couple of years now, which is why I'm willing to talk about it, and maybe the pandemic has helped things a little, but holy shit the counselling and psychotherapy field is not equipped to help its practitioners in the gig economy.

Of all my interests and talents, I pursued a degree in psychology because being a therapist is supposed to be a safe, stable, well-paid job. Every therapist I met who was registered before 2008 worked and lived under that assumption. And oh boy are all the fee structures--registration, supervision, continuing education, conferences--set up for that scenario.

After getting my Master's, I struggled like hell to get a job. It was especially bad because to get my license, I needed a supervisor to take me on. To take me on, most supervisors wanted me to already have a caseload and client base. To get a caseload and client base, I needed a job.

Friends: Every single job I heard back on wanted me to have my license before I could even land an interview.

Professors and career advisors and professional development specialists all advised me very earnestly to just keep cold-calling people on the supervision list, and it began to feel a lot like my parents' friends telling me to hit the bricks and hand out resumes. That's what worked for them, right?

I finally got a supervisor who agreed to take me on, and I'd be able to use her clinic for advertising and workspace, and we were doing the paperwork to send in with my registration, when she called me up and said, "Is this job going to be your only source of income? If you're trying to depend on getting clients and building your practice for your basic needs, this is not going to work out. This has to be something you're doing on top of a basic salary. Okay, so you're not working anywhere else right now? I'm sorry, I can't move forward with this."

Even once I landed a supervisor and a job building my own private practice, I struggled. I have ADHD and am not great at self-promotion, so trying to do all my own advertising, scheduling, bookkeeping, billing, and records management (on top of counselling) was an enormous strain. One my bosses, supervisors, and other senior professionals watched with a slightly critical eye, but consoled me about because in their early days, their clinics had had business managers, receptionists, filing clerks, and accountants, and getting used to doing everything online yourself was a bit of a learning curve, wasn't it?

I counted my pennies very carefully, because I had to pay my supervisor roughly $180 for their services every 6 hours of in-person counselling I did. This meant that to break even I had to charge my clients an average of about $30 (plus room rental and service fees) an hour--and my clients, being people with complex trauma, were frequently poor, disabled, unemployed, and had no health benefits, so even $10 or $20 a session was a lot for them.

Maybe it would have been easier if I could have taken some of those nice comfortable organization positions where they find clients and funding for you and you work 40 hours a week and get benefits and a pension, but I had to be disabled into the bargain, so working 40 hours a week just isn't possible for me. I start passing out from stress and exhaustion. Older colleagues gave me serious-faced advice about approaching my employer and asking them for some flexibility and accommodation in my schedule, and I tried to explain across the gap between us that employers simply did not hire me if I made the slightest noise about the workload. They weren't going to invest in me as a person; they were hiring 40 units of work a week, and if I wouldn't do it there were a dozen applicants after me who would.

At one point I broke down enough to email my licensing body because the Annual General Meeting/Professional Development Conference was coming up, and I wanted to attend, but I could not produce $500 to do it with. Was there some kind of way I could attend anyway? I felt ashamed to have to ask, and then absolutely mortified when the response came from the organization president, who needed to personally sign off on me being too poor to attend the single most important event in my profession's calendar year.

I honestly felt so ashamed all the time at how I was apparently failing to be a successful therapist, failing to be rich and successful, and every time I mentioned it around mentors and bosses, I could feel myself shrinking from a person to a problem to be solved. My closest therapist-friends and I have reflected on how much more difficult, poorly-paid and underworked, our various career starts have been than we were ever warned about. About the classmates and coworkers who couldn't get disability exceptions when they fell behind in their registration requirements, or burned out and left the field, or dropped their registrations and took up as life coaches, or moved their whole family somewhere exceptionally remote or rural because it was the only good job available, or worked for some godforsaken app skirting the bounds of malpractice like BetterHelp.

I like those conversations, because I feel less like an absolute fuck-up in them. There's less "Hey Lis, you were so talented in grad school, I really admired you, what are you doing now?" "Oh, I, uh... am professionally disabled, so I get government benefits, and I... sell embroidery patterns on Etsy now."

My own therapist kept asking if and when I felt like going back to being a counsellor, and I finally told him: I don't, actually. I don't want to go back and do it like I was doing it before. It was a profession I loved to the depths of my soul, and it profoundly did not love me back. I can't even imagine what would have to change, in me or it, to make it have a space in it that could fit me.

All of which I was way too scared to admit to at the time, because the more I let people know I was struggling, the more they hinted that maybe I just wasn't in a place in my life where this was a job I could do, and I needed to take a little break and wait to come back until money and disability just weren't issues for me anymore.

Eventually my cups of doubt and exhaustion did overflow, and I quit. I'm here now, living a much different life. And at the very least, all my years of helping people in bad life situations set me up perfectly for my own. I already knew what form to fill out for financial assistance, which student clinics to access for mental health support, and which government agency would, if pressed, cough out pharmacy coverage for the genuinely destitute. It gave me that much.

I hope this is just me being in extraordinary circumstances, sitting at the intersections of a few different shitty life situations that most people skip right past. Because it's on one level comforting, but another deeply infuriating, if I'm not, and I've just missed it or we've just all been too afraid to admit it to each other.

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Crush

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: 3.1k

Summary: Drinks with friends

A/N: Inspired by nothing. Nothing at all.. Enjoy :)

Warnings: fluff, slight angst

It’s a rare Thursday night. You’re not working tomorrow, but instead of being home you’re about to walk into a bar and meet your friend for drinks. She’d claimed that it had been too long since you’ve hung out, and since you couldn’t argue and wanted to catch up you agreed to go out tonight. She’d told you that she would bring a couple of friends she wanted you to meet, and you tried not to be stressed by this. You couldn’t help but be an introvert, and when you were faced with meeting strangers you worried about first impressions. 

You didn’t have to tell Wanda this when she watched you pass your phone between your hands as you waited until it was time to leave. As usual, you were ready early, but you didn’t want to leave yet. You’d invited Wanda to come but it probably wasn’t a good idea. You weren’t sure how many people would recognize Wanda, but in order to prevent a catastrophe and reduce your stress, she opted to stay home. She said she’s be relaxing with Boone and Fletcher, and you just offered a smile before you took another deep breath. You’d almost fallen asleep with your head on Wanda’s shoulder before she reminded you that it was time to go. 

You’d left Boone at home since the bar you were meeting at wasn’t pet friendly, and you immediately miss him when you step out of your car into the cold air. 

You tell yourself you’re looking forward to this when you push open the front door and look around for your friend. 

“Y/n, over here!”

You turn in the direction of the familiar voice and smile at the equally familiar face. As you walk toward the booth with three people, you realize that only one of them is a stranger. You force your steps not to slow as you recognize the redhead you haven’t seen since vet school. You hope to whoever is listening that you’re not blushing as you curse yourself and offer a smile. 

“Hi, sorry I’m late.” 

Your friend stands up to hug you before she shakes her head and convinces you that you’re right on time despite everyone else already having drinks. You sit down beside her when she slides into the booth, and turn to both of her friends as she starts the introductions. 

“Y/n, meet my friends Rachel and Caitlin. Rachel works at the BEST ER clinic in town, and Caitlin just moved here to start working as a Cardiologist.” 

You smile at your friend’s description of what was likely the ER she worked at before moving to General Practice like you. Still, it was never safe to assume, and you decided to ask for clarification’s sake, as well as something to say. 

“Nice to meet you both. That said, Rachel, if you work where I think you do, I’ve talked to you at least once when referring patients.”

You watch as the brunette smiles before confirming your suspicions. You’ve definitely sent many, many patients her way. You’ve heard only good things about her, and not just from your friend. You turn your attention to the familiar face with the calmest expression you can manage. 

“Welcome to Denver, Caitlin. Have you been here long?” 

You resist the urge to steal some of your friend’s drink as the redhead in front of you shakes her head before mentioning where she’d completed her residency. 

“Only a couple of months. I was up at Fort Collins for school. Stayed there after my residency to work at a specialty hospital for a while.”

You nod in understanding and open your mouth to say something, but you’re cut off when your friend nudges you as her face lights up. You tense a little in anticipation, and you hope that the duo watching the exchange across from you chalks it up to the unexpected contact rather than the realization that you were hoping could wait until later. If at all. 

“Oh yeah! Y/n, you both went to school there. I think you were probably there at the same time.” 

You pretend to think about this, and do some math before shooting Caitlin a questioning look. 

“I graduated a little over 8 years ago.”

Rachel and your friend watch as Caitlin smiles in response as she taps her fingers on the table between them in contemplation. You take a moment to study the redhead and you hate that nearly a decade later, you have to fight the flush that wants to creep across your cheeks. You remember your last year of clinics during school. You were exhausted and trying your best to learn as much as possible. One of your first rotations was Cardiology, and you’d felt ill-prepared for it. You knew that you had to try your best to not appear as clueless as you felt in front of the many doctors you’d be working with. 

Then you’d arrived and seen Caitlin was on the service, and you’d suddenly been more attentive than you’ve ever been. You’d felt pathetic and a little gross for how you listened to every word that the redheaded resident said. You’d learned a lot and despite nothing happening at all, you’d left wanting more. 

Each subsequent rotation, you’d jump on any chance to wander down the hall to Cardio again, but you’d only seen her a handful more times before graduating. 

You’d left your unhealthy infatuation in the past and moved in with Wanda that same year. You’d never told her about your crush because you felt guilty despite knowing it wasn’t going anywhere. You knew your then girlfriend was a jealous person, and you saw no point in telling her about your attraction when it would be a moot point as soon as you left campus. 

Now, here you sat with your friend and two other vets, and you’re about to find out if you were as subtle as you hoped. Something told you that you hadn’t been. Namely the many reminders you get from your family about how you’re horribly transparent with your thoughts. Especially when they’re inappropriate. 

“I was in the last year of my residency.”

You remind yourself that you’re happily married and would never look elsewhere as you nod in response. You don’t bother looking at anyone other than Caitlin until a waiter comes by to take your order. 

“Yeah, I remember.” 

Once you have a drink and you’re no longer the center of attention, you relax and try to enjoy your time. You’re realizing quickly that you hadn’t misremembered Caitlin’s dry wit and intelligence. Listening to her talk about what she’s going to be doing is both interesting and a little daunting. 

You realize you’re not alone when your friend finishes off her drink and sets the glass on the table with a sigh. She shoots Rachel and Caitlin half-hearted glares before surprising you with what she says next.

“Alright, alright, we get it. You’re both super smart and we’re lowly GP vets. At least we get to go home to our SOs at a reasonable hour.” 

You roll your eyes and the glare you shoot your friend is a little less half-hearted than hers. You can tell she’s a little tipsy and you just sigh before muttering under your breath. 

“I don’t agree with the ‘lowly’ part of your statement, but I will admit it was nice to get out of school before I turned 30.”

Both Rachel and Caitlin speak up at the same time, and you all end up laughing.

“I was 29.” 

You’re enjoying the niche company when your phone vibrates in your pocket. You glance at your watch to see if it’s urgent, but you just see that Wanda’s sent you a picture. You tune back into the conversation about a C-section nearly going wrong when your phone goes off again. You ignore it, but your friend can feel it vibrating since she’s sitting beside you. She glances at you but says nothing until Rachel’s finished her story. 

“Sorry for sending her to you, but when he walked in at 5pm with her I knew where she was going to end up.” 

You expect Rachel to give her some grief for this because you’ve had this happen to you before. You’ve sent problematic, critically sick patients to an ER because you didn’t have to staff, time, or tools to manage them, and sometimes the recipients were a little salty. You’re pleasantly surprised when the brunette just smiles before shaking her head. Despite the nightmare that it sounded like, apparently it wasn’t too bad. You could never be an ER vet. 

“Don’t be. It was actually pretty fun.” 

You can’t imagine this being fun, but then again you stayed away from pregnant spays for a reason.  

You finish your drink and glance toward one of the TVs across the room to note the time. It’s been a couple of hours, but since you don’t work tomorrow, you’re in no rush. You don’t realize that you’re not the only one who checked the time when your friend speaks up. 

“I know you don’t work tomorrow, Y/n, but I need to be in by 8, so I should probably call it a night.” 

You nod and get ready to stand up and leave too, but she grabs your arm to keep you still. You shoot her a confused look before she glances across the table and then back to you. 

“Stay for another drink, you two, on me. Rachel was my ride, but maybe you and Caitlin can catch up some more.”

You’re suddenly suspicious of your friend and you merely slide out of the booth to let her out without a word. Caitlin does the same and you realize she’s looking at you and you need to make a decision now. You don’t want to be rude, so you just offer her a smile before hugging her tightly. 

“It was good to see you. Let’s do this again soon.” 

You say goodbye to Rachel and watch the duo leave as you slowly slide back into the booth. You wonder what’s going to happen next and consider ordering that second drink when Caitlin speaks up. 

“I hope this doesn’t sound creepy, but I think I remember you.” 

This is not what you’d been expecting, and you merely shake your head with a self-deprecating smile. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say that. I was just one of many.” 

Caitlin doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she studies you in a way that sets you on edge. You wonder what she’s thinking about. What she could be remembering. Finally, she smiles before leaning back and shooting you a look that certainly would have made you blush 8 years ago. 

“No, I really do. I swear. You were memorable because you were so…attentive.” 

You break eye contact which is a mistake because of how telling it is, but it’s too late to take it back now. You wonder when Caitlin figured it out. Oh how obvious you must have been. She was probably laughing at you with the other residents. Your face flushes in embarrassment as you curse your horrible poker face. 

“Well that’s… embarrassing doesn’t feel sufficient…mortifying, maybe?” 

You can’t help but laugh at yourself before you turn your attention back to the redhead. You remember that you’re older now, nearly 10 years older, and you’re not the same person. You don’t simp over random attractive people who pay you a little attention. You’re only a simp for your wife these days. 

Caitlin only chuckles before she shakes her head and admits something that you’re not prepared for. You can’t help but wonder again if your friend had planned this. Did she know that you two knew each other before she introduced you? You could ask now, but you’d rather figure out what the hell is going on. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. It was flattering.” 

You decided you definitely needed another drink if you were going to respond to this. After getting your waiter’s attention you ordered another drink before shrugging in faux nonchalance that was honestly laughable. 

“I was just super interested in cardiology honestly.” 

This received the response you’d expected, and you smile when Caitlin laughs more freely. You two ended up talking for another hour about cases before ending the night around 10. 

When you leave the bar, you’re smiling widely at how well the night had gone. You’d been surprised by a hug at the end, and you feel as if you practically floated to your car. This feeling didn’t dim any as you pulled into the garage a little later and cut off the car. You sit back in your seat and sigh heavily before getting out and heading inside. 

“Wanda?” 

Although you’d told her not to, your wife had waited up for you with your pets. You smile as she turns around on the couch before standing up to greet you. You shake your head before hurrying to sit beside her with a wide smile. You’re still reeling from tonight and you reach out and hug your wife before asking how her night has gone. 

“It was pretty quiet here, but relaxing. What about you? Did you have fun?”  

You smile widely before nodding and beginning to describe your night out. You didn’t realize that you were practically glowing, but Wanda picked up on it immediately. 

“It was great. My friend brought two other vets with her and we talked about all sorts of things. ER med, cardiology…disasters. I actually went to school at the same time as one. She was a resident on one of my favorite rotations.” 

You continue to talk about Caitlin, and you miss the way that Wanda squints at you before tilting her head in question. You’re still thinking about how you’re shocked that Caitlin remembered you when Wanda speaks up and knocks the wind out of your sails. 

“You and Caitlin knew each other?” 

You pause when Wanda says this because technically yes. You knew of each other, but you didn’t talk beyond what was required of you when you had cases with her. You weren’t friends. As soon as you acknowledge this you realize that Wanda’s asking something very specific that you have the urge to ignore. You realize your mistake too late though and you merely shake your head before averting your gaze to your dog. You scratch his ears before waiting to see if Wanda was as astute as you feared. 

“No, not really. Our paths crossed a couple of times, but only during those 2 weeks.”

There’s a prolonged silence and you can’t help but look up curiously. Your hopes are dashed as Wanda shoots you a skeptical look. You hold back a sigh and speak up before your wife has a chance to. 

“I may have had a massive crush on her, and seeing her tonight was a shock to my system.” 

Wanda doesn’t really know how to respond to this, and she thinks back to when she’d taken you to her high school reunion. She’d seen her high school crush there and you’d been with her at the time. It had led to one of your few serious fights, and she wonders if you’d felt similarly to how she does now. 

The only difference is that you had been with her when you had a crush on this woman. Wanda’s not sure if you’d mentioned her at all. Wanda was now wondering if there had been others. 

You seem oblivious to her plight, and you continue to muse about this redhead that Wanda really can’t decide if she wants to know more about or not. 

“It seems silly to me now. I didn’t want it to go anywhere, and the idea that she’s here now? It just makes me think that I was such a child.” 

You roll your eyes at the thought of how much a simp you were and how this was your way of coping with the stress, long hours, and sleep-deprivation of being at school more often than not back then. Still you shake your head at your foolishness. You always did find it easier to listen to and learn from an attractive woman, but this was the first time you’ve ever seen them after the fact. You miss Wanda’s confused look as you double over and start laughing in embarrassment.

“You had a crush on her?” 

You nod as you wipe tears from your eyes before confirming your wife’s suspicions.

“Yeah, I did, well I-not really. I thought she was attractive and smart, but it’s not like I wanted to date her. Obviously.”

You say the last part for Wanda’s benefit despite it being true because you realize that she might be taking this the wrong way. Or rather she may be insulted by this because you probably would be too. Despite loving Wanda and not wanting to be with anyone but her, you weren’t blind to the people around you. You noticed attractive people, and you’re not sure if that’s about to get you in trouble. 

Wanda frowns as she considers this and decides to ask only one more question. She’s not in the mood to be upset with you, but that will all depend on what you say next. 

“Okay…Did you ever think about being with her?” 

This question gets your attention and you immediately shake your head. It was pretty shallow of you honestly, but you’d only really sought her out because you always learned something whenever you talked to her, and she was a beautiful redhead. Although not the most beautiful. 

“Not for more than a conversation about nerdy things. She was…is pretty but it doesn’t go past that for me. Plenty of people are pretty and smart, but I only want one pretty and smart…kinda redhead.” 

You laugh when Wanda shoots you a glare before shoving you back against the cushions. You just smile at her as she crawls into your lap and wraps her arms around your neck. She leans in close to you but pulls back when you try to close the distance and kiss her. She eyes you carefully and underneath her curiosity you see a glimmer of fear, and you hate that you’re responsible for it. 

“You promise?” 

You nod as you squeeze her hips and hum under your breath. You can’t imagine ever wanting anyone like you want Wanda, and you hope that never changes. 

“I promise. You’re it for me, Wands. Only you.” 

As much fun as your night out had been, you’re grateful to be home with your beautiful wife. You wouldn’t trade the feeling of being with the woman you love for anything. 

Masterlist

[dronebiscuitbat]

Give me a Reason: Chapter 13- "Expedition (Part 1)"

Uzi hoisted herself over the chain link fence with scarily practiced ease, landing on the other side with a light thud and turning back to look at N still on the other side, looking up at the tall fence as if he was intimidated by it.

Which, you know. He was.

He'd never climbed a fence before, he'd never climbed anything before. Why would he? He didn't tend to have a habit for getting into places he shouldn't be. Unlike Uzi it seemed.

“It's not gonna bite you. Your legs are long enough you could probably just jump over it.” Uzi deadpanned, but it did seem like she was taking some amusement out of his nervousness. He looked from side to side, as if checking to make sure no one was watching him.

“No one's watching, and if they are, they don't care. Come on, we're burning daylight!”

Okay. Fine. He could do this, Uzi was right the fence was only a couple feet taller then him he could probably just jump over it if he got a running start.

He backed up from the fence, steadying his breath as he took a only half correct sprinters position before sending himself careening towards the fence, trying to get as much upwards momentum as possible.

To his surprise, we was clearing the fence quite well, he launched himself over it, feeling a bit like he'd just learned to fly.

It was…. oddly freeing.

At least, until his ankle got caught as he was halfway over the fence and he found himself loosing all forward momentum, slamming him breifly into the chain link on the other side before dropping him unceremoniously on his head.

His ears rang after his head made contact with the ground, feeling hands grab his head and neck firmly and strangly gently, he was moved into a laying position, his eyesight was strangely wavy, like he was looking through water.

“N. Hey, can you hear me?” He heard after his ears stopped ringing and his eyes refocused, she was looking at him, an expression of both concern and deep amusement etched on her face.

He tried to nod, but Uzi's hands were stopping any movements from it, he looked at her confused, and she scoffed.

“You just landed on your head, idiot, you could've broken your neck. When I said jump, I didn't mean give yourself a concussion.” She explained, before gently tilting his neck to either side, her hands were pleasantly cool, in contrast to his constant, radiating heat. Pink flared up in his cheeks.

“Any pain? Your heads going to hurt but does your neck?” She took on an oddly clinical tone, as if he was getting checked up at a doctors office. He gulped, before truly trying to feel for any pain.

“No. I mean my head kinda hurts, but my neck is fine.” Even as he said this, Uzi moved his head up and down gently, after seeing no reaction from him. Her hands snapped back into her pockets as if just touching him had somehow harmed her.

“I didn't expect you to try to clear it. I just meant jump and grab the top so you could pull yourself over.” She lifted a brow, smirking a bit as he slowly got up; somehow he'd avoided any major injuries aside from his head being bit sore.

“Ooh… yeah that makes more sense.” He admitted sheepishly, making Uzi roll her eyes, even still though, she was smiling even if it was a small one.

“Let's go, and let's avoid trying to fly over anymore fences. You don't have wings, last time I checked.” He laughed, falling in directly behind her as she led the way through the dense underbrush.

She seemed to move through it with ease, not afraid to grip onto a tree or a bush or dig her fingernails into the dirt if she felt she needed to. She was sure footed, even as the terrain shifted and sloped downward she never once stumbled, it was almost graceful. It was graceful in comparison to what he was doing.

Which was stumble and trip over literally everything. He'd yet to fall, but he had come close, the only thing stopping him being grabbing onto a tree and holding on for dear life as he regained his footing.

“You wanna know how to walk on slopes like this?” She asked after the second time he'd nearly fallen. As to which he breathed out an exasperated “Yes, Please.”

“Angle your feet to the left or right, not down, there's more surface area for your shoes to grip.” She demonstrated, angling both her feet to the left as she effortlessly climbed down into a clearing.

So that's what he did, angling his feet to the left, he found that it was indeed much easier to keep his footing then walking normally, he joined her at the edge of the clearing, this time without falling.

“Why didn't you show me that when we first started?” He whined, causing her to laugh lightly.

“You've gotta try on your own first, so you can feel the difference between the right way and the wrong way.” That's was… strangly sage coming out of her mouth, but then, much quieter came;

“At least, that's what mom always said.”

Before he had a chance to comment on thar, she gave him feral smile, gesturing in front of her. “We're here!”

He glanced around. Taking in the clearing.

It was immediately obvious that this place was long abandoned, old, 70's style vehicles were sat rusting in the middle of the clearing, which on further look, was actually an overgrown parking lot. Pressed up against a steep hill (the one they had just spent fifteen minutes climbing down) was the mouth to a decrepit old mine, the rotting support beams looking about ready to crumble, though the light hanging directly in the entrance was on, if flickering ever so often.

Yeah, it definitely looked haunted.

“Spooky.” He acquiesced, looking down at his project partner, who was setting up a camera facing the mineshaft opening, humming to herself.

“Hehehe, and this will film us, and catch anything we can't see with the naked eye!” She tapped the tripod, looking proud of herself, before having to lurch foreward to catch it, as she'd accidentally knocked it over.

“Cool! Uh… what now?” He asked, unsure how all this “ghost hunting" worked, he wasn't even sure he believed in ghosts. She'd just looked so excited at the prospect of going, he'd went along with it.

“You can test out the radio!” She fished again into the large bag she'd carried with her. (How had he missed that?! Not only had she been completely sure footed, but had lugged that down as well.) And handed him a very strange looking radio.

“You turn it on like this.” She came up to his side, leaning slightly on his arm as she pointed to the big button in the middle, he felt his face heat up again, hearing nothing but Tessa’s mocking voice asking if this was a date. He shook off those thoughts and pressed the button and after a quick second. A burst of static hit his ears.

“It cycles through different frequencies, it's supposed to let us communicate with ghosts.” She explained, N couldn't help but find her utter excitement about it cute, she was cool and collected most of the time, but not when it came to ghosts, apparently.

“Have you ever heard anything?” He asked, genuinely curious, but at this she stopped, looking back at him sheepishly. “Uh… no. Nothing that was anything clear anyway.” She looked slightly dissapointed, which N decided immediately that he did not like.

“Aw, maybe that'll change tonight!” He suggested, trying his best to cheer up his freind. Group partner?

She smiled, not a sarcastic or feral one, but a real one that spread to her eyes and made her already bright violet eyes seem to sparkle even more. “Maybe, help me film this intro?”

Freind. They were definitely friends, and that made N feel all the more warm inside.

Next ->

[dwarf-hat-enjoyer]

I meant to ask yesterday, but how ab some touch starved Harvey head cannons? <3

🤝Touch-Starved Harvey🤝

synopsis: Exactly what it says on the tin <3 Our favorite town doctor craves physical intimacy more than he knows. Headcanons+drabble of how he copes with it, how he reacts to physical contact, and a bonus of how he reacts to receiving physical affection! gn!Farmer, romance. SFW.

w.c.: 1.7k words!

content warnings: None!

A.N.: BABY'S FIRST REQUEST! Thank you so much :,) Highkey this was super enjoyable for me to write and I'm REALLY happy that you liked my other post enough to pop in!!! Enjoy &lt;3

Before the farmer, before befriending Maru and assimilating into his role as the meek and respectful town doctor, he had always been rather avoidant to initiating casual physical contact. Everything he gave, everything he received- it all ranged from polite social expectancies to standard work-related procedures. He didn't think much of it. Having always been a more anxious type, the possibility of making another uncomfortable was always on his mind in these interactions, and what better way to avoid such a thing than to not have it at all? Handshakes and the occasional stiff hug were enough for him. Unfortunately, this proved to be a bit of an oversight on his end, considering the side-effects it would provide.

By the time the farmer arrives, his chronic loneliness has very much caught up with him. Not only has he distanced himself physically from others around him, but mentally as well. Outside of his clinic, the way Harvey's been so avoidant to touch has turned it into a source of anxiety for him. His self-consciousness extends to this field as well- when Granny Evelyn beckons him to lean down for a hug after he's finished his house visit to George, he worries that he's hugged her too tightly or for too long in the very back of his mind. Even the handshake exchanged with the governor at the last year's Luau haunts his memory, with the constant niggling thought that he hadn't been firm enough.

And don't get this man started on his non-existent romantic life. Moving to such a small town those few years ago, he knew that prospects like that would be limited, to say the very least. Many of the eligible singles in town, as lovely as they were, were...well, not exactly his type. And even those that were, how could a guy like him ever manage anything with anyone? The thought of being forward or flirtatious in any way practically gave him hives. But the idea of having someone to be close to, physically and emotionally...He couldn't say that he didn't crave that. But all in all, he wholeheartedly believed that it wasn't in the cards for him and his touch-starved ways.

Enter the farmer. They were just another patient to Harvey in the beginning, another member of the town for him to look after. He didn't pay much attention when they touched him or when he touched them, aside from his ordinary overthinking. He couldn't afford to think too deeply about, really. He was their doctor, for Yoba's sake, and whether it was a friendly punch in the arm or a simple tap on the shoulder to get his attention, it would be highly unprofessional to dwell on. Besides, the mystique of being new in town and charmingly single was sure to draw them quite a few pairs of eyes, anyway. How could he compete?

Well...He definitely began thinking about that. Time marched forward as time does, and an unexpected friendship began to blossom. Harvey being Harvey, it was hard for him to recognize his developing feelings at first. Their gestures became more frequent, and his heart swelled with each one. Whether it be grabbing his wrist to drag him to see their chickens or a grateful hug for patching them up after a night in the mines, it lingered in his mind longer than it should have. When the day came that he idly pondered asking them to the coming year's Flower Dance, it all suddenly became clear to him: He'd fallen. And he'd fallen hard.

Everything suddenly became so much more meaningful. The coffee and pickles they'd frequently brought him, fresh from their farm. When he caught them looking at him and only him among the faces of a festival crowd, was that a sign? Did they think about him as often as he thought about them? Did they think about his touch the way he thought about theirs? With all these thoughts swirling about in his head, he would suddenly become much more reserved around the farmer, quiet and flustered as if a single word could shatter the friendship they'd so carefully cultivated already.

Eventually, something would have to be said about his behavior. This is Harvey, after all- and even if it weren't, who in their right mind would suddenly clam up the way he did for no good reason?

Clamming up...Was that what he was doing? Harvey sighed to himself as he took in the early summer atmosphere. He brushed his knuckle over the surface of the fountain's water, sitting contemplatively at its edge. It was on days like these where he wished he had the confidence and sense to dress down a little rather than sweltering away in his slacks and button-up shirt, but there were other things on his mind. The sweat on his brow was the least of his concern. How could it be anything else? He'd recently realized that it had been two or three weeks since he'd realized his feelings towards the farmer, after all- which marked two or three weeks since his overthinking was pushed into overdrive by every little moment between them. His mind wandered back to the early days of their friendship. When Harvey closed his eyes envisioned his feelings, true to his bookish personality, he saw a graph. With every little moment between them, the line grew bit by bit until it became positively exponential. The way the farmer aided him at George's check-up was the first incident he could recall. When George, being every bit the stubborn old man he was at first glance, chastised Harvey for his advice, their sudden appearance ended up making the appointment much less of a headache than he expected. Their own appointment went a similar route, with them being one of his easier patients. It went as smoothly as it could have. Harvey had nearly forgotten the incident, but their pulse stuck out in the otherwise unremarkable memory. They were a farmer, for Yoba's sake. They had a business to run, physical labor to attend to and an entire town to entertain to keep themself afloat both financially and socially. Any other doctor wouldn't've thought twice about it and simply moved on with their day. Any other doctor wouldn't've fallen this hard for a patient, he reminded himself grimly. "Hey, Harvey!" In an instant, his thoughtful silence shattered like an egg thrown at the mountainside at the sound of the familiar voice. They'd sought him out. Did he really mean that much to them? Damn it all, doctor, don't get your hopes up! The contents of the farmer's backpack rustled and clanged with every step as they trotted up to him. With a proud grin on their face, they held out their hand expectantly, a small something clutched in their fist. "Oh. Erm...Hi. How are you today?" Harvey asked politely. The farmer blinked, then smiled warmly. "I'm doing alright. Just got back from the mines. Don't have a heart attack, I managed to find that purple mushroom you asked for at a level that wouldn't kill me." Harvey chuckled stiffly, reaching for the mushroom presented in their hand. Big, big mistake. It was a simple brush of their fingers. He hesitated to even call it a mere accident. They seemed so calm, despite the fact that he'd definitely lingered for a millisecond longer than he should have. In the moment, he cleared his throat awkwardly, preparing to apologize- "Harvey." "Ah, I'm sor- Yes?" he stammered, smiling in a way he prayed didn't seem nervous. "If you're going to apologize for touching me," the farmer began, gently yet firmly, "I'm gonna take that mushroom right back. You're squeezing that poor fungus to death, anyway." It was only at their words that he noticed his death grip on the mushroom. He opened his mouth to apologize anyway, but the farmer continued, "That's just something I noticed, you know? One, you've been super quiet with me lately, and two, every time we so much as brush up against each other when we do talk, you start tripping over your words and apologizing as if you just slapped me." "I know that you do get bouts of anxiety, but..." The farmer trailed off, "We're still friends, right?" Their question was genuine, concern-wrought and excruciatingly, painfully innocent. Harvey could hear their voice quieting as it left their lips- not accusatory, simply gentle and ready for whatever answer he'd give.

Harvey fumbled over his words before they'd even left his mouth. To explain himself would be to reveal the absolute fool he had been. Avoiding them for as long as he did would've only harmed their relationship, just as the farmer revealed had happened that moment. Of course they were worried. Of course they wondered whether or not he was mad at them. Of course they'd be hurt by the way he'd shied from every touch of theirs, all because he had made great towering mountains out of the littlest molehills. "Harvey…?" "It's complicated," he blurted out. The farmer's eyes widened as the words poured out of him. "I've tried to keep our relationship professional at first. After that, I- I thought it would be strictly platonic. I didn't even consider the fact that I would feel this way about you." "What do you mean 'this way?'" they prompted him gently. This farmer was going to kill him with how sweetly patient they were being. With a deep breath, he spat it out. "I'm interested in you. Romantically." What Harvey expected in that moment was a kind let-down. A small speech about how they value him as a friend, but can't see any sort of future with them. At worst, a sneer and a more curt rejection. They wouldn't be the type to laugh and mock him, this much he knew. What he hadn't expected was the smile pricking at their lips. Nor did he anticipate the way they reached softly for his hand and the electric joy that set every nerve in his body alight at their touch. It was all clear now. And damn, he truly was a fool to believe so deeply that they didn't feel the same. "Is that all, big guy?" … Oh, farmer. You'll be the death of this doctor yet.

~FIN~

[aspiring-writer-hidden-voice]

🦼

Eijiro Kirishima likes to volunteer his time outside of school/workouts/patrol to help out at the nearby Physical Therapy clinic or Assisted Living. In short: he is the muscle behind the therapists.

Someone needs help standing or moved from their wheelchair?

Everyone has his pager on speed dial when he’s working.

That’s how the two of you met.

You had just moved to this part of the city and the old clinic you used for therapy had closed unfortunately. It was hard for you to get around due to your Cerebral Palsy but at least you had some mobility thanks to years of physical and occupational therapy. Wheeling yourself in through those doors, everyone made you feel welcomed and heard…

Then the therapist had asked for his help in being your support as they helped keep your hips aligned for standing practice.

“Hey, name’s Eijiro Kirishima! Nice to meet you!” He smiles and holds your elbows in a gentle grip, gently but firmly. “Don’t worry, I gotcha, okay? I’ll always be here to catch you!”

Every visit you looked forward to seeing and getting to know the Pro Hero more. It wasn’t long before you enrolled in the private program so that the therapists could do in-home services, something your old clinic never offered.

Though the surprised expression on his face (the therapist was more than accustomed to seeing such a sight) when you answered the door crawling on hands and hips across the carpet had been so comical you wish you’d had a camera.

And when he suffered an injury to his spine while fighting a villain which left him temporarily unable to perform regular things, you were the one he called…

“Hey…I’m sorry to bother but…”

“Which hospital?” Is all you ask and within the hour you were wheeling into his room with an understanding smile. “It’s my turn to help you.”

[corpium]

a future excerpt from By Any Means

Harry turns around, good mood vanishing. “Oh, would you fuck off already?” he asks Tom, who’s propped up against one of the trees like the bloody poser he is. Blood’s still smeared across his face from the roses’ thorns.

“Do you not want me here?” Tom asks. “I thought you missed me.”

Tensing, Harry shifts his weight. “I miss you like a hole in the head,” he says.

“Ouch.” Tom pushes off the tree and ambles toward him, hands in his pocket. “Such cruel words, Harry.”

Harry holds his ground, fists clenching. Awareness prickles at the edge of his senses. “It’s the least you deserve.”

Tom comes to a stop before him, a hand coming up towards Harry’s chin.

Harry slaps it away. “Don’t touch me,” he snarls.

Tom stills, assessing Harry with red, snakelike eyes. They jog something loose in Harry’s head. They aren’t supposed to look like that. Harry takes a step back; Tom takes one forward, eating up the space.

“I thought you liked it when I touched you,” Tom says.

Harry shores himself up again and plants his feet. “You disgust me,” he says.

“Do I?” With a clinical tilt of his head, Tom takes another step into Harry’s space. Harry stays in place, muscles practically vibrating with tension. Mere inches hold them apart. “And yet, you allow me so close.” His face tilts downward; his hands rise, one to Harry’s waist, the other up to Harry’s cheek—

Harry punches him in the gut. “Fuck you!” Even as Tom doubles over, Harry tackles him to the ground. He rains punches down on Tom’s face—he wants to ruin it. “You deluded twat!” he rants. “I hate you. I hate you, I—”

Tom’s shock wears off. His legs shift, his abdomen flexing—

He rolls Harry over, and the world rolls with him, and suddenly Harry’s not looking at Tom anymore. He’s looking up at Voldemort in all his snakelike glory.

“What,” Harry croaks, going still. The light’s changed, having darkened to that of an enclosed room lit by a crackling fire. He’s lying back on a bed—a very plush, comfortable bed. Voldemort’s hands are on his wrists. He leans over Harry, pinning him down like some unearthly demon.

“We’re in my dream now, Harry,” says Voldemort, grinning down at him with unholy avarice. “Do I still disgust you?”

Blinking, Harry swallows, the fog of his dream fading. Appease, appease, appease, his instincts scream, a holdover from his time with the Dursleys. “I—I thought you were just a dream.” But this is still a dream, isn’t it? Is this real?

Voldemort’s long fingers clench around Harry’s wrists. He does not move away. “And now you have decided that I am very much myself,” he surmises. “Are you certain?”

Harry inhales deeply, finding himself frozen. He observes his surroundings. There’s a wavering edge to the room, a soft lack of detail in the wood of the walls, an overly warm brightness to the fire. But Voldemort is real and solid above him, his grip much too present and his eyes far too keen. Harry nods, ever so slightly. “What do you want?” he whispers. He tries to think ahead, to plan, to remember what he shouldn’t be saying, but under the weight of Voldemort’s attention, his thoughts elude him.

Voldemort’s eyes drag downward, making heat rise under Harry’s skin. “Everything,” says Voldemort. “Everything that you are. I want it all.”

Wordless, Harry shakes his head in denial.

Miraculously, Voldemort pulls back. His weight on Harry’s legs makes Harry’s stomach twist. “All in good time,” he says, peering down at Harry in contemplation. “It intrigues me, Harry, to observe your reactions to my many faces. Why, I dare say, you may dislike my youthful visage more than I do.” He tilts his head, peering down at Harry. “Tell me, darling—”

The pet name sends a complicated array of emotions coursing through Harry. ‘Darling?’ he wants to yell, but at the same time, no, he really doesn’t. He wants away more than anything. Harry jerks up, legs twisting—

Voldemort pins him down once more by his wrists, nails digging in, his expression frighteningly impassive. It’s that eerie impassivity that stills Harry once again. “What did he do to you?” Voldemort asks quietly.

“He was a psychotic murderer,” Harry snarls. “You were—are—a psychotic murderer,” he adds, half to remind himself.

“That’s not quite it, is it?” Voldemort traces a thumb over Harry’s bare wrist. Harry suppresses a shiver. “No, your hatred runs deeper than that.”

“Stop it,” Harry snaps, squirming and failing to get away. “Stop—bloody guessing. You don’t know anything.”

“He was impetuous, I am certain,” Voldemort says. “Impatient. Too blinded by his need to escape the diary to see what a gift he beheld.”

���’A gift’?” Harry splutters.

Voldemort ignores him. He raises Harry’s wrists over his head and changes his grip to hold them together in one large hand. His other hand, warm to the touch against Harry’s death-chilled skin, trails down Harry’s gray arm, nails grazing the skin. It slides down Harry’s shirt, a fraying, threadbare thing, dirty from working in the garden.

“Hey—” Harry says, starting to squirm again as Voldemort’s touch slips under his shirt. Voldemort splays his fingers out and presses down, holding Harry in place, nails pricking threateningly into the delicate flesh of his abdomen.

Harry tests Voldemort’s hold on his wrists and finds no give.

“Did he charm you, Harry?” Voldemort’s robes drape over Harry, shifting softly as he presses closer. “Did he seduce you?”

The air feels thick. Harry looks away, grinding his teeth.

“Did he break your heart?”

Harry blinks rapidly. His breath shudders. “Shut. Up.”

Voldemort clicks his tongue. “I was quite foolish in my youth.” He strokes his thumb over Harry’s belly, sending a curl of unwelcome pleasure up Harry’s spine. He shifts lower, his face coming unbearably close. (If he looked like the Tom Harry had known, Harry would bite him. But he looks just different enough, otherworldly enough, to utterly baffle Harry’s impulses.) “Would you like me to apologize?” Voldemort murmurs.

“I would like you,” Harry finds himself saying, voice small, “to leave me alone.”

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Fallen Order request is "I don't see him" for @dragonleighs

Eyes roaming the snowy scene ahead of them, Merrin does her best to mirror Cere and contain her panic, as though they haven’t just watched an avalanche crush an entire village with their friends still inside it. The last thing she saw was Cal, arms thrown out, the Force gathering. “I don’t see him,” she shouts over the snowstorm. “I don’t see any of them.”

“Neither do I,” Cere says. She closes her eyes, breathing steadying. “They’re alive.”

It takes all Merrin’s self-control to not demand more information from Cere. That, and the knowledge that there are a lot of frightened people gathered behind them, people she refuses to scare further when they may have lost loved ones to the snow and ice. Instead, she stays quiet, feeling the Force move around Cere in ways not accessible to a Nightsister.

Cere’s eyes spring open. She points. “There. Where the clinic used to be.”

Merrin grabs her hand. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Cere pauses for a moment to face the other villagers. “Get to higher ground!”

The elder takes control of their people, leading them to a nearby cliff. Cere gives Merrin a nod, and they’re standing atop the ruined village a heartbeat later. Merrin feels the Force beneath her, a great hand pushing up with waning strength. She summons her magick, lets its flames melt the snow. Cere reaches down and pulls out Greez, who wastes no time turning back and helping her free the others.

Merrin looks up, sees more snow headed their way. She races forward, moving so slowly, half-blinded by the storm, but her magick is as rapid as her thinking, a wall of fire blocking its onward path. She puts more strength into it, but nature can only be held back for so long, and already she is forced to retreat, centimeter by centimeter.

“Everyone’s out, Merrin!” Cere bellows. “Move!”

She teleports back to the others and finds the villagers, Cere, Greez, Cal and BD wading through waist-deep snow. Cere’s pulling Cal onward. Greez, being smaller, struggles more, and Merrin grabs him and teleports them both back to the safety of the cliff where the rest of the villagers wait. She turns to go back to help the others, but they’re already scrambling to safety. Cal rolls onto the cliff, nudged a little further from the edge with a few head bumps from BD. He flops onto his side, panting for breath, glassy eyed with exhaustion. Cere crouches down, squeezes his shoulder, and then looks up to the villagers. “Is everyone alright?”

There is a collective yes (if Merrin ignores Greez’s gagging at her side). The elder steps forward. “We should seek shelter in the caves,” they say. “Can he walk?” They mean Cal.

Cere shakes her head. The elder calls to a large, practically Wookie-sized Human male and he scoops up Cal and unceremoniously throws him over his shoulder. BD hops onto Cere’s shoulders. The elder leads the entire group into the nearby caves for shelter.

“Are you done throwing up?” Merrin asks Greez, her hand on his back as she leads him on. If they lose sight of the others in this weather, they might never find the caves.

“Ugh, I hope so,” Greez says, pushing through the snowstorm. “But I’m alive, and I’m very grateful to you and Cal for helping keep me that way, so no more complaining from me.”

In the cave, villagers unpack emergency supplies, including heaters and blankets. Merrin and Greez find Cere, Cal and BD-1 near one of these heaters, Cal’s head cushioned on Cere’s lap, tucked under a blanket, BD sticking close.

“Wore himself out huh?” Greez says, sitting down and resting a hand on Cal’s head. “So much for taking it easy after Nur.”

Cere only manages the faintest of smiles. “Perhaps the next place we stop at should be devoid of all weather.”

“I know a few merchant barges that will serve our needs,” Greez says, Cal not stirring as he runs his hair through his fingers. “He kept that snow off our heads until Merrin melted it. I don’t think he knew he could do it until he did.” He looks to Merrin. “You did good to get us out.”

Merrin sits down too. “It was a team effort.”

Cere reaches over, her hand resting atop Merrin’s. “You gave us enough time to get everyone out.”

Merrin feels herself smiling and blushing. “Happy to help.”

The villagers settle into groups. A short while later a few come over and provide bowls of simple soup. The scent of warm food rouses Cal, who sits up and eats with minimal conversation. He blinks and grunts in response to any questions. He does at least seem glad the villagers are all alive.

“I have decided I do not like snow,” Merrin tells him.

He glances at her, yawning massively. “Me neither.”

[ladydigianna]

on the ground || oikawa tooru x reader

|| note: this is inspired by on the ground by rose of blackpink

|| pairing: oikawa tooru x fem!reader

|| angst to fluff || from the author: my first fic after rebranding !! i hope you guys like this !! requests are open but please read my rules first !! thank you guys <3

-fic starts below the cut-

"everything i need is on the ground"

The sound of sneakers squeaking against the gym floor echoed in the spacious gym, the rhythmic thud of a volleyball bouncing reverberating through the air. Oikawa Tooru's eyes were focused, his determination palpable as he practiced yet another serve. It was his routine—volleyball was his world, and nothing else seemed to matter as much.

Except, there was something—or rather, someone—who used to matter just as much, if not more.

You.

You had been by his side since middle school, a constant presence of warmth and support, always cheering him on from the sidelines. But as the years went by and Oikawa’s obsession with perfecting his game grew, that warmth began to fade. Dates were rescheduled, conversations were cut short, and the time you once shared was slowly replaced with endless practice sessions.

It all culminated in a tearful breakup during your second year of high school. You had tried to make him understand that you didn’t want to be second to volleyball, that you missed him, the real him. But Oikawa had been too blinded by his ambitions to see the pain in your eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore, Tooru,” you had whispered, voice breaking as you walked away.

And just like that, you were gone.

The summer before his third year, Oikawa’s life came crashing down. A knee injury, the one thing every athlete feared, had struck him hard. The pain wasn’t just physical—it was a reminder of his limitations, of the fragility of the dream he had sacrificed so much for.

The clinic door swung open as he limped out, his mind a whirlpool of frustration and regret. But as he stepped onto the street, the world seemed to blur around him, his thoughts drowning in memories of you.

He remembered the time you had pulled him into a quaint café after a tough practice, insisting that he needed a break. You had laughed so freely, the sound like music to his ears. There was the time you had walked home together, your hand slipping into his as you talked about everything and nothing.

As if the universe had a cruel sense of humor, he looked up and saw you.

You stood there, just a few feet away, your eyes widening in surprise as you recognized him. For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of the past hanging between you like a storm cloud.

“Tooru,” you finally said, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

His heart clenched at the sound of his name on your lips. He took a step forward, his gaze pleading. “(Y/N)... I’m sorry. For everything. I was a fool for letting you go.”

You swallowed, eyes darting away. “It’s not that simple, Tooru.”

“I know,” he admitted, his voice hoarse with sincerity. “But I want to make it right. I want to be the person you deserve, the person who puts you first.”

You looked at him, searching his face for something—maybe the boy you had fallen in love with all those years ago. “I need time, Tooru. I’m not sure if I can just... go back to how things were.”

He nodded, understanding the gravity of your words. “Take all the time you need. I’ll wait. I’ll prove to you that I’ve changed.”

As the third year of high school began, Oikawa kept his promise. The Aoba Johsai boys’ volleyball team noticed the difference immediately. He was still their determined captain, but something had shifted. He was softer, more thoughtful, as if he was trying to balance his two loves—volleyball and you.

He’d leave little notes in your locker, encouraging you through exams. He’d show up at your door with your favorite snacks, claiming he just happened to be in the neighborhood. The team watched, amused and supportive, as Oikawa worked to win you back.

But it was after Aoba Johsai’s crushing loss to Karasuno that everything came to a head. Oikawa was devastated, his heart breaking not just from the loss, but from the realization that he might never be enough, that all his efforts might be in vain.

Iwaizumi found you in the stands, watching as Oikawa sat slumped on the court, tears in his eyes.

“He needs you,” Iwaizumi said simply, a rare softness in his usually stern voice.

You didn’t hesitate. You made your way to the court, your heart pounding as you knelt beside Oikawa. He looked up at you, his expression crumbling at the sight of you there, by his side, where you had always been.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, the words raw with emotion. “I tried so hard, but I still couldn’t—”

“Shh,” you whispered, pulling him into your arms. “You did your best, Tooru. That’s all that matters.”

He clung to you as if you were his lifeline, the weight of his insecurities and regrets heavy on his shoulders. And as you held him, you realized that despite everything, you still loved him. The boy who had once neglected you had grown, had changed, and you knew he deserved another chance.

“Let’s start over,” you murmured against his hair.

He pulled back slightly, hope flickering in his tear-streaked eyes. “Really?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Really.”

The next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, soft and desperate, a kiss that spoke of promises and second chances. The world faded away, leaving just the two of you in that moment.

When you finally pulled apart, the rest of the team was watching, grins on their faces.

“About time,” Matsukawa teased, earning a smack on the back of the head from Hanamaki.

“You did good, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said, a rare smile on his lips.

Oikawa smiled back, a genuine, heartfelt smile as he intertwined his fingers with yours. He knew that this was just the beginning—a new chapter in both his life and his relationship with you.

And this time, he was determined to get it right.

[chaithetics]

I love your writing so much and looking forward to more of your Stewy work!!! Can’t wait ! ❤️

Chance Meetings

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x f Roy reader

Word count: 1.8K

Content warning: mentions of drug use/addiction, some flirting fluff.

authors note: hasn't been proofread, ended up not being the biggest fan of this one but maybe others will hopefully enjoy it. It's how the original idea of Roy reader and Stewy getting together started and then went along. Shout out to a previous nonnie for the berry idea, it'll definitely make more appearances in the future. I know the show itself has a very loose/not super defined timeline other than the fourth season but this is set before the show starts FYI :)

Also thank you Elle! That's so kind of you, I hope you enjoy this and future pieces! There's more coming!

You’d done the un-Roy thing as much as you could for a significant part of your life, you didn’t go to business school, you went to grad school to become a clinical psychologist. Like Connor, you didn’t do the college to living in New York and working at Waystar or a linked profession pipeline. 

You didn’t necessarily think of yourself as the California girl, you certainly weren’t the poster child for that. But after graduating you’d moved to San Francisco and had practiced there. It was the perfect antithesis of the life in New York that your siblings were living that you had no interest in. 

Well, it had been. 

You’d recently left that life for one in New York. Kendall had been going through the wringer lately. It was just over a week ago since he’d left rehab and his marriage with Rava was falling apart. You knew that Rava couldn’t be his only support system, it wasn’t realistic or fair and you frankly didn’t trust your family to be in Kendall’s corner. 

You were heading up to Kendall’s apartment to check in on him and to prepare for a night that would be awful. You’d been able to skip out on these types of events for most of your adult life but Kendall felt an obligation to attend in an attempt to try and get into your father’s graces. You were going with Kendall as  moral support to an entitled gala that Waystar was funding. 

“Wow, Dr. Roy, look at you. What a pleasure to have you amongst the green-eyed capitalists.”

You turned your head in the direction of the voice, you’d recognise that playful tone anywhere, it was Stewy Hosseini. You hadn’t seen him in a few years but as always, he was in a suit tailored perfectly for him and he looked gorgeous. 

“Well, I can’t really say anything with a biting wit, can I? I’m here and I benefit from it all anyway.” You respond looking at his amused gaze, it’s not cruel but it’s like he knows something you don’t. 

“Yeah but you look great though. You do benefit from it, I mean, look at the blood from the human sacrifices in your father’s honour. They’re keeping you young, treating your face and figure well.” He has a smirk on his face as he speaks and you chuckle. His brow furrows slightly and his tone becomes serious. “Wait, wait a second.” Stewy wets his thumb with his tongue somewhat dramatically but still realistically as he wipes at something on your chin. 

“Wait, what is it? How long was it there for?” You immediately ask, embarrassed that there was probably a mark of lipstick or maybe food there. Although the gentle touch of his thumb on your chin makes you relax for some reason. 

“Just a bit of a blood splatter from the sacrifices. I’m sure it wasn’t there long.” Stewy saws moving his hand away and chuckling, you scoff. 

“Wow, smooth.” You respond and his smirk just grows. “Well, looking pretty dapper yourself Hosseini.” 

“Oh, I know.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I know you think I look hot.” Stewy says so confidently, you look at him incredulously for a second but end up smirking, he’s being as playful as ever but he doesn’t seem high. 

“Cocky as ever.” 

“Just a fact.” You look at Stewy’s face, he’s being his usual playful self but there’s a gentleness there, something in his eyes that you’re not sure you’ve seen before. You look into his eyes and for a moment think about Kendall, he’s been in the bathroom longer than you’d like. 

You’re tempted to go into the men’s room yourself but you know that Kendall wouldn’t appreciate that if nothing was going on. You focus back on Stewy’s eyes, he’s always had gorgeous, warm brown eyes. They’re not dramatically blown out, diluted. You’re more confident that he’s not high. You put a hand gently on his arm. 

“Stewy?” His smirk fades a bit as he takes in your more serious tone and expression. 

“Yeah?” 

“Can you do me a favour?” “Of course.”

“Can you um, Kendall’s in the uh bathroom… He’s been in there for a while.” You say quietly. He gives you a small smile and nods. 

“Yeah, of course.” Your hand is still on his arm, he looks at it briefly and smiles at the touch, he places his hand briefly on the small of your waist for a comforting second as he walks off to check on Kendall. 

You watch Stewy as he walks off and you feel a little anxious. Kendall had been gone for a few minutes and you know that you can’t be a helicopter sister but you do worry about him at an event like this. 

After a few moments you see Kendall and Stewy coming out of the bathroom making their way over to where you stand. You feel a flood of relief, Kendall looks depressed still but he doesn’t look high. 

“Hey Ken.” You give him a small hug and look at his face, trying to search his eyes. 

“I didn’t, just the  mirror cry.” He says dryly, knowing what you’re searching for in him. Stewy looks at you with a sad nod to confirm and mouths he’s good. You give Stewy a grateful smile then redirect your attention to Kendall again and nod with a smile. 

“Do you wanna go home?” You ask, your brother looks exhausted. “We’ve been here long enough, dad’s seen you. You’ve talked to people. It’s already been a long night.” You continue knowing that if he wants to he’ll need validation to feel okay about it. 

“Uh yeah, sure.” He says looking down. “Thanks Stewy.” Stewy just gently claps him on the back and nods. 

“I can stay with you tonight, if you like?” You ask and Kendall nods. You mouth a thank you at Stewy as you and Kendall leave the gala. 

As you and Kendall sit in the car you take your heels off. 

“Bump into Stewy?” Kendall asks looking at you riredly. 

“Uh yeah. He came over for pleasantries before finding you.” 

“I don’t think many would associate Stewy with pleasantries.” Kendall says with a small chuckle. 

“Sure he’s cocky but he’s always polite.” You reply eying Kendall. 

“You know what I meant.” Kendall said. 

“Uh-huh.” You laugh a little. “Lot more pleasant than Roman’s friends.” 

“I only surround myself with the best company.” Kendall teases, looking a little less down. 

“I know, that’s why I’m here. Your favourite sibling.” You tease. 

“Don’t tell Shiv that.” 

“Never, Kendall Roy.” 

*************

You’d stayed the night at Kendall’s bachelor apartment, you’d fallen asleep on the couch and you were now woken up by voices only a few feet away. You looked up and saw Kendall casually dressed and Stewy once again in a well tailored suit, looking devlishly handsome. You’d always known he was attractive but he just seemed to age like a fine wine. 

The two men had been standing in the open floor layout talking and then Kendall noticed that you were awake now and that Stewy had also noticed. Kendall quickly realised that Stewy’s gaze had focused on you pretty quickly and Kendall wasn’t sure if he’d seen Stewy ever look at anyone like that. 

“Get changed.” Kendall quickly said. Stewy looked at him with raised eyebrows and you looked perplexed. 

“Excuse me?” “Get changed. Now. Scoot, scram. We have company.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, Stewy did his best to keep his attention on Kendall and not watch you leave. This wasn’t the first time you’d spent the night at Kendall’s lately so you conveniently had clothes here, hence having slept in nightwear. 

When you come back out you can hear the shower going so you assume Stewy has left but you then see Stewy leaning against the kitchen island, scrolling on his phone. 

“Morning.” You greet him and he looks up from his phone, placing it down gently. His eyes are even dreamier in daylight than what you remembered. 

“Good morning. Oh wow, clothes and underwear. How nice.” He teases. 

“I know, a bra with underwire and everything.” You tease back which makes him chuckle dryly. 

“I’m a fan with or without the support Dr. Roy.” He says with a wink. 

“Somebody’s quite the flirt lately.” 

“Always, for you.” You smile at him and walk over to Kendall’s fridge, where there of course is no berries, sighing as soon as you realise. “I didn’t come empty-handed. You walked right past the bagels and smoothies, had to physically restrain your brother from not touching your berry smoothie. You know, it had the most ludicrous name?” Stewy answers, as if he’d read your mind when you’d opened the fridge. 

“How did you even remember that?” You ask in shock as you pick up the smoothie and take a generous sip. 

“I’ve spent a lot of time around the Roys.” He says softly looking at you. 

“I’m surprised that you remember, that’s-it’s sweet Stewy.” 

“You’re not hard to forget. It’s been what 2?3?4 years?” He asks stepping closer to you. 

“I think 3.” 

“Huh.” He says almost to himself, as he wets his thumb again and wipes at a spot on your face. 

“What? More blood splatter this time?” You ask. He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, smoothie.” He says, holding his thumb out for you to see the little bit of purple he’d wiped off you. He then presses it to his mouth, to clean his thumb. You watch him and just can’t get over how attractive and sweet he is. 

“If you were that desperate for some of the berry smoothie you didn’t need to do that. You could’ve asked.” You tease in a whisper as your eyes stay on his lips. 

“Oh really?” 

“I would’ve said yes.” 

“Can I?” 

You nod and Stewy puts one hand on the small of your waist and the other gently cups your cheek. You relax into the touch and then his lips press against yours, it’s an amazing feeling. The kiss is so gentle yet also has passion in it. It stops though when you hear the shower turn off. 

“I need you to return last night’s favour.” “Oh?” You ask, feeling surprised at the timing. 

“Dinner with me?” 

“But-” 

“I know a million quiet places, nobody will find out. It won’t leak or get back to your family and overcomplicate things. Indulge me?” 

“You’re surre you can pull that off Hosseini?” 

“For tonight sure.” You laugh at him and nod, “Sure.” Stewy takes a sip from the smoothie you’d been drinking earlier. 

“Hmm. Just what I thought?” “What?” 

“Tastes better on your lips.” He says confidently with a wink, you scoff and go to respond before you see Kendall coming out.

[shabbytigers]

a dark night of the soul has hit, due to reasons.

got into a horrible catastrophizing spiral of realization that every single move i have made in the last five years and arguably in my whole life has been a Mistake and consequently i am thoroughly and irretrievably fucked

then i was like, okay, but setting aside a huge tranche of deeper personal shit and the moon falling out of the sky (which i am not getting into), most of my terrible horrible irresolvable problems of a practical nature* will go away or at least recede into manageable quiescence if i just get myself another remote nyc job

*briefly. saddled with a silly huge n expensive apartment that i rented when i had a nyc payscale salary and considerably more space reqs; now have neither, but cannot look for smaller cheaper flat because no one will rent to me because i’m jobless 🙃 kafka auflauf of a gordian knot, but another nyc job would slice right through it. (German job listings dire; there may be a strategy where i get, like, a job at a bookstore and qualify for a cheap flat, but i’m not sanguine about it)

unfortunately this is not quite a one-weird-trick fix

if i succeed, i have a new problem: the job 💀 i seriously have the screaming doanwannas about it

this is the worst job market i’ve ever looked in, my industry is going through something similar to tech with layoffs all over for the last year

partly in response to that, partly just bc the pendulum is on a natural swing away from all-remote, employers are pulling back on remote-friendly policies. which i need, unless i want to crawl back to nyc with my tail between my legs, and i still have enough will to live to not want to do that. have struck out a few times on this one stupid sticking point already

anyway

today i applied directly to two jobs online, talked to a recruiter about a third (no), “reached” “out” “to” (vomitous expression) two former colleagues at agencies that have plausible job postings, another who seems to be freelancing in Paris successfully, and an old manager who was theoretically putting me forward for yet another job last month

also: found a detailed english walkthrough for how to register as a ‘sole proprietor’ freelancer

also also: registered with a Mieterverein and looked up open clinic hours. someone is going to have to walk me through the ins and outs of the housing sitch

also also also: found a Pberg language school that offers a twenty-hour B1-B2 grammar course priced at only a bit more than the VHS charges for half of B1. I am into this. just explain me the damn grammar and check my work at the next class. queried them about dates, will see if the VHS has anything faster too

tl;dr i’ve bought a big stick. i’m all ready, you see. now my troubles are going to have troubles with me

[kylobith]

Little Town Tails

Chapter 2: Bear Trap

Summary: A first patient comes to Halsin's veterinary practice. And not the usual kind.

Ship/Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav

Trope: Modern AU, Meet-cute, Little countryside town, Cosy

Word count: 3,693

Read it on Ao3 here

Listen to the dedicated playlist on Spotify here

There she stands, in the middle of the street, with messy copper-red hair blown around her pointy ears and into her eyes by the mischievous breeze. Sweat beads upon her pale brow, trickling down her temples and threatening to dampen the bumpy bridge of her freckled nose. Although clouded by nearly palpable concern, her turquoise eyes capture his gaze within a heartbeat, stealing the breath from his lungs.

While her expression displays panicked urgency, the faint lines coursing from the curves of her nostrils down to frame her rosy lips, coated with strong cherry-scented chapstick, bear witness to the numerous times she must have laughed and smiled. Such expressions must have been genuine, he thinks, since they have reached and creased the corners of her almond eyes.

Before his stare lingers upon her, he lowers it to the heavy weight occupying her arms and he nearly steps back in surprise.

An owlbear cub. An actual owlbear cub!

Out of breath and attempting to wipe the sweat stinging her eyes with her shoulder, she approaches him and calls out to him.

‘Good morning,’ she huffs, ‘are you…’

She tilts her head down to read a creased business card she previously tucked below her armpit.

‘...Doctor Silverbough?’

‘I am he, indeed,’ Halsin nods and opens the door wide again. ‘Is something wrong with the cub?’

The lady acquiesces and lets out a whimper as the whining cub’s weight weakens her grip and she tries to adjust it. Without thinking, he shoves the pastry box in his pocket and steps forward to delicately take the ailing animal from her. He invites her inside as he carries the cub to the examination table in his clinical room. Upon seeing the owlbear’s stature, he mentally pats himself on the back for having invested in a larger examination table despite his former mentor’s advice to stick to standard dimensions.

The woman, having followed him and closed the door behind them, comes to stand by her furry and feathery companion to scratch him behind the ears in reassurance.

‘There is something wrong with his front paw,’ she says, showing him which one she means. ‘When I called him for breakfast this morning, he didn’t come up to me. He stayed at the back of our field and he wouldn’t move. So, I went to check up on him, and I saw that he couldn’t stand up and that he couldn’t walk at all.’

Halsin lets the cub smell his hand before petting him on the head and the side of its face, letting it know that his intentions are nothing but friendly. After a moment of hesitation, the owlbear squeaks and sits back on its hind legs, almost in reverence. The veterinarian thanks it with a brief scratch under its beak and proceeds to a preliminary examination.

As he carefully feels around for any spot that might be especially sensitive, Halsin senses warm dents into the flesh of the paw, about three inches above the long and sharp claws. While the owner watches him with fear ablaze in her eyes, he brushes back the feathers and tries to find the holes he felt just a moment ago.

It does not take long before he does. Fresh blood guides him to the puncture wounds, witnesses of the tearing of the cub’s leathery skin. It is a botched work. Either the animal has struggled and caused more damage than necessary, or something — or someone — has pulled at whatever the source of such injuries was. And it must have been something quite solid, if not the teeth of a strong-jawed animal.

‘I feel deep punctures in a curved line,’ he mutters pensively to the owner. ‘Can you think of anything which could have bitten your cub? Or any object that could have torn the skin?’

The woman ponders for a moment, folding her arms as she does, but responds with a shake of her head.

‘I cannot think of anything. The field I let him live in is not one where I cultivate the land, so there is no farming equipment on the spot, not even a pitchfork.’

‘Does it ever leave the field?’

‘I do take it on the occasional forest walk, but I am extremely careful when it happens. Because of his wild animal status, I can’t take him just anywhere, you see.’

‘Of course.’

From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of her holding her head. When her whole body sways, he reaches out to catch her by the arm, preventing her from hurting herself in an unfortunate fall. He sits her down on a chair against the wall and crouches before her. Funny enough, his large frame is such that even in such a position, he remains taller than her.

‘Are you alright, madam?’ he asks loudly, in case she might need to snap back into consciousness. But she is awake, much to his relief.

‘I am, sorry about that. I am just worried about my cub.’

Judging from her pallor, he can tell that her issues are rooted in something else.

‘Have you eaten today?’

‘No. I usually give him breakfast before I have mine, and it took me so long to carry him across the field, then into the car, then drive here, then…’

She sighs and leans her head back against the wall. Poor thing, Halsin tells himself. In his two decades of experience in this field, fainting owners have been commonplace. After all, animals and pets are companions, family members, even. They are a lonely grandfather’s friend, the confidante of an ill-at-ease child, the partner in crime of an adventurous young woman. They take on many roles and never fail to bring comfort to their owners, although the occasional call to animal protection services has occurred throughout his career, as much for the animal’s wellbeing than for the apathetic owner’s sake. And, to be frank, his own peace of mind, but this is never a useful criterion when dealing with such circumstances.

Halsin gently takes the woman’s wrist to measure her pulse.

‘Would you like me to make you some tea?’ he offers with a warm smile. ‘I have some snacks you can eat. It is not good for you to remain in this state.’

She stares into his eyes, a blush dusting her cheeks and nearly rendering her freckles invisible to the eye.

‘Perhaps it’ll help,’ she answers weakly. ‘Thank you.’

He pats her arm and rushes to the staff room to fill the electric kettle with water before turning it on. As the device starts and a loud hum fills the cramped space, Halsin leans back against the cabinets and conceals a giddy grin behind his hand.

His heart is racing. He cannot explain it, but it is. He nearly grows dizzy from it, in the same manner that she swayed earlier. In twenty-two years of work, this has never happened. If anything, he was known to be the most professional veterinarian in the previous practice for which he worked. From his first day to the last, Halsin impressed his boss on multiple occasions, demonstrating unmatched level-headedness when dealing with heart-wrenching situations.

One day, a young man rushed inside the office, cradling his unresponsive cat whose abdomen was torn open by sharpened iron spikes. The owner was howling in despair, struggling to believe that anybody would do this to his innocent furry companion. While Halsin was busy keeping the animal alive, treating the gash and sewing it up, he could hear the man begging his colleague to save the cat, his only friend left in the world. Uncannily adroit with a needle, he managed to save the feline’s life and he became its regular vet throughout the years. Once the owner had left, his manager had praised Halsin for his unshakeable calm demeanour, but little did he know that he struggled to sleep for a few nights, wondering whether there could have been anything that he could have done better for this poor little creature.

But having his heart racing for a pet’s owner? Never. Unheard of. Inconceivable!

Before he knows it, steam swirls out of the kettle’s beak and a sudden click resounds from the countertop, a brief interruption amid the bubbling noise of the water. Halsin shakes his head, trying to keep his head clear, and retrieves his teabox from one of the overhead cabinets. He prepares the tea service on a tray, complementing it with a jar of honey and a small, flowery sugar box he inherited from a relative. On a saucer, he sets down three of the miniature pastries that Melly brought him earlier, hoping that they would be enough to keep the lady’s blood sugar up. 

Tucking the teabox under his arm, he carries the tray to the examination room and sets it down on the chair beside her, pleased to see that the woman is regaining colours.

‘Here, pick a flavour,’ he says, balancing the teabox on his palm and opening it for her.

‘Thank you,’ she mumbles in embarrassment, picking a red berry infusion. As she notices the honey on the tray, she eyes him curiously. ‘Honey? Isn’t that for sore throats?’

Halsin laughs and washes his hands in the small sink in the corner of the room, drying them thoroughly.

‘It is, but I find honey to be most soothing when I am worried. You are free to try it.’

The woman smiles at last and takes him up on the offer. As Halsin brings his focus back to the injured cub, he hears the clinking of the spoon inside the cup as she twirls the mixture in the same way a witch would stir a potion.

Setting the paw on a sterile cloth, he washes the blood away with saline water, clearing the view so he can identify the problem.

‘I cannot believe this,’ he grumbles through gritted teeth as he recognises the marks.

‘What is it, doctor?’ the woman gasps, her head shooting up as soon as his voice reaches her.

‘Bear trap. Your cub had his paw stuck in one. Are you sure that you have not seen anything suspicious in your field or the forest? Truly nothing at all?’

She hastily drinks a sip and sets the cup aside, jumping onto her feet to see the injuries with her own eyes.

‘A bear trap, you say? I don’t…’

‘Does he ever leave your field? Are there any other places that he might go?’

‘No, only the field and the forest. My permit only allows me to take him there,’ she answers, before furrowing her brow. ‘Although, when I found him this morning, the fence had been broken in from outside. I doubt that he escaped. He has never tried it.’

Her gaze darkens as she ponders about the fence again. It seems that she might have found an explanation for the broken face, and, Halsin hopes, for the trap.

‘This little fucker!’ she hisses.

As she sees his raised eyebrow, she waves a hand before her.

‘Sorry, doctor. I believe I know who might have done it.’

She grabs her cup of tea to sip it, letting it calm her nerves, even just for an instant.

‘My neighbour, Mr Bongle. A bitter man, this one. Always angry about something. He was so adamant about having the cub taken away by the local authorities and euthanised. He tried to oppose my acquisition of a piece of the field behind my house for the owlbear’s development, and it went so far that the dispute needed mediation from the town hall.’

‘I see. How did it end up?’

‘I won the dispute. I proved that I had the right paperwork done and that I had all the permits to keep the owlbear in my care. My family owns a rescue centre in the north. They cure wounded wild animals and release them. I used to work with them when I was a student, so I’m experienced when it comes to that sort of animal.’

‘Do you believe that your neighbour might have disagreed with the verdict?’

‘Oh, very much so. He has threatened to hurt the cub more than once,’ she scoffs, finishing the tea in one last gulp, before petting the owlbear’s head and peppering its feathers with kisses. Even from where he stands, Halsin notices the tears welling up in her eyes. ‘I just never thought he would actually do it.’

While she cuddles her owlbear — the animal being visibly comfortable around her — Halsin begins to clean each wound individually.

‘Have you seen any trap on your land?’ he inquires while hunched over the animal’s claws.

‘None.’

That does not help things at all. After all, the woman mentioned owning a field, it is possible that the spot where she found the cub is different from the whereabouts of the trap. What if the creature crawled away after being caught and simply could not go any further?

‘It is not the first time that I see such an attack happening,’ Halsin confesses to the woman. ‘Back in the village where I used to work, neighbours’ quarrels were sometimes aggravated by attacks on the other party’s private property, and pets or farm animals were often the first to suffer from such pettiness.’

‘Any pattern you recognise?’

Halsin offers a simple shrug.

‘It could be anything. If Mr Bongle is indeed behind your cub’s injuries, it is possible that he planted the trap on the edge of your field, but once he saw it caught, he could have panicked and broken into your property to remove the trap. That could explain the broken fence and the tears in the skin. But these are mere suppositions.’

‘I see.’

Once all the wounds are disinfected, Halsin conducts a test to assess the extent of nerve and tissue damage caused by the jaw of the bear trap. Unfortunately, the cub does not respond to stimulation as well as he hoped it would. When he gently pokes the area with a dull needle, the creature merely tilts its head, wondering what he is up to. But there is no response in the limb. No twitch of the claw. Further up the leg, however, everything seems to work as normal.

‘Mh,’ Halsin sighs, ‘I am afraid that there has been some nerve damage, either caused by the trap or the attempts to remove it. That is why he could not stand or walk. He does not seem to feel anything in the paw. Slight tingles at most.’

‘Is there anything we can do?’

‘I can operate this afternoon. All the materials and equipment are here. Since the rest of the leg responds normally, I believe that the damage to the paw is not irreversible. That was simply bad luck.’

‘Will he struggle to walk later on?’

‘That is a risk, indeed, but if he limps for the rest of his life, it should be a painless hindrance. I have seen animals with worse injuries that could still run around until late in life. Sure, their gait appeared a bit silly at times, but they did not experience any discomfort or pain.’

The woman nibbles on her lower lip and nods slowly.

‘Fine. Let’s operate.’

Halsin lets her reassure the trembling owlbear and walks over to the computer on the opposite side of the examination table. He opens his software and types the details of the situation into a new file.

‘I can keep him here already until the surgery. Just in case, I would like to keep him overnight for observation. This will not be at your charge.’

‘Oh, thank you. May I ask how you are going to look after him?’

‘I live right above the practice,’ he responds warmly, pointing at the ceiling. ‘I can check up on him every three hours and make sure that he drinks and eats enough. You should be able to bring him home tomorrow. Would that be suitable for you?’

‘Yes.’

He continues to fill in the form on the software, the clickety-clacks of his old keyboard filling the room.

‘Besides,’ he adds, ‘I have a loyal companion who would be delighted to keep watch over your cub.’

Behind the reception, outside the room, they hear Scratch stretching his paws. His claws clink against the linoleum floor, and his whimpery yawn causes both the veterinarian and the anxious owlbear owner to smile.

‘Sounds like a good boy, alright,’ the woman acquiesces with a chuckle. ‘Well, I suppose that Beaky’s in good hands.’

‘Beaky?’

‘Oh, yes, that’s his name. Beaky. Sorry, I’m not creative when it comes to names.’

‘That is quite alright,’ Halsin laughs, ‘I have heard much worse.’

Once every field has been filled in, he turns around to face the woman.

‘May I ask for your name and address, so I can fill in Beaky’s file?’

‘Of course. My name is Tav Ashguard and my address is 8 Barn Way in Combury.’

‘Thank you.’

Tav. What a peculiar name, but one he likes nonetheless. As soon as compliments fill his head, he ushers them away as if he fears that she can read his mind.

‘There. Everything is ready,’ he speaks over the deafening whirlwind of thoughts inside his brain. ‘If you wish, I can take your phone number and keep you updated if anything happens. This can be done by text or on the phone, whatever suits your preferences.’

‘Texts would be perfect. Call only if it is dire.’

‘Very well.’

Tav recites her phone number and he enters it in his file and into his work phone. Halsin then gives Beaky some mild painkillers just to be sure, before escorting its owner back to the reception. Once they stand at the door, he points towards a nearby street.

‘If you suspect Mr Bongle, I would advise you to seek the local forest ranger, Minsc. His office is up that street, to the right. He is in charge of the woods between Heawick and Combury, so perhaps he can help you find the bear trap. If not, he can refer you to a lawyer from the animal protection services, he often works with them when he finds injured and orphaned animals.’

‘Oh, that’s lovely of you. Thank you.’

She shakes his hand firmly.

‘Thank you for the tea and for taking care of Beaky. I was not sure whether you would take him in, but I’m glad you did.’

‘Of course. All animals deserve to be saved.’

‘I like hearing that.’

If Halsin did not know better, he could swear that he saw her blush just now.

‘Please, keep me updated on Beaky’s state?’

‘I promise you that I will keep a close eye on him.’

‘Perfect. Thanks. Goodbye, Dr Silverbough!’

‘Goodbye, Miss Ashguard.’

He sees her walk back to her car, right when a roaring engine echoes through the street. Karlach appears, perched atop a vintage motorcycle, and parks the vehicle in front of the practice. The tiefling hops off, clad in a short leather jacket adorned with silver buckles and dull spikes. She runs a hand through her dark hair ornamented with red streaks, hoping that it was not flattened too much because of her helmet.

When she notices Halsin at the door, she waves excitedly, her whole face illuminating.

‘Morning, Doc!’ she chimes, watching Tav’s car driving away. ‘Was that our first patient?’

Halsin grins. He has not known the young woman long, but one thing is for certain. Her enthusiasm, even for the littlest things, is unparalleled.

‘Indeed.’

‘What was it? A dog? A cat? A bird?’

‘An owlbear.’

Karlach gasps, her eyes as round as marbles and her jaw dropping at once.

‘No fucking way!’

‘Language,’ Halsin scolds playfully, although he certainly wishes that she could swear less loudly.

‘Sorry. No way!’

Without needing any form of invitation, she rushes inside, slamming her helmet on her chair behind the reception. She bursts into the examination room and finds the docile cub on the table. While Halsin closes the door and quietly makes his way to the two of them, he hears Karlach’s squeals and her cooed words as she pets the creature.

‘I will operate on him this afternoon, so I will need to close the practice earlier. Until we find another vet willing to work here, we do not have much choice.’

‘Understood, Doc.’

‘I will keep him overnight for observation. You can simply go home once I am done with the surgery. Does that sound alright to you?’

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to stay longer?’

‘It should be fine.’

The tiefling continues to pet the cub in the same way she does Scratch, not caring that it is supposed to be a wild animal.

‘Where will the cub sleep, though?’ she asks. ‘Aren’t our cages too cramped for a pet this size?’

‘I will bring down the mattress from my guest room,’ Halsin sighs. ‘I might sleep near him while he recovers.’

‘You know what you should invest in, Doc? A babyphone. Or one of those baby cameras, you know?’

‘Hah. Perhaps I should.’

He watches her as she showers Beaky with love. Despite her inexperience, he has no regrets about employing Karlach. She is most efficient, involved, caring, and willing to learn any new task. These are qualities that he immediately sensed in her when she showed up to the practice one day after reading online that it would soon open. Out of nowhere, while varnishing wooden poles, Halsin found the tiefling scratching at his door, begging him to give her a job. Anything.

At the time, she and her partner Dammon were struggling to pay rent, but with early salary payment, once he allowed her to help with the renovations in the office space and the running of errands before she took on her official role, the issue was solved altogether.

Karlach presses a kiss into Beaky’s feathers and turns to Halsin with a smirk.

‘His owner was cute. Didn’t you think so, Doc?’

Halsin laughs and leans against the doorpost, trying to appear as nonchalant as he can.

‘I suppose.’

Taglist: @emmanuellececchi

[unforgivenn]

16th HOUR — #4 Inhumane

Masterlist/ Previous

CW: captivity, dehumanization, suffering, experimentation, needles

Samuel's world shattered as rough hands seized him, yanking him through a labyrinth of sterile corridors that echoed with distant cries of anguish. Panic surged through him, his heart pounding in sync with each hurried step. Beside him, guards marched in silence, faces obscured by masks that exuded an unsettling lack of empathy.

"Let me go! Please!" Samuel's voice cracked with desperation, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. The guards' grip tightened, propelling him forward with brutal efficiency.

Through a sudden turn, they emerged into a blindingly lit observation area. Samuel squinted against the harsh glare, eyes struggling to adjust to the surreal scene beyond the towering glass window. Before him lay a nightmare incarnate.

L class.

The designation whispered like a curse through the sterile air. Samuel's breath caught in his throat as he beheld the figures within. Bound to metal frames, their bodies contorted in agony, limbs stretched and restrained. They wore sterile white suits stained with sweat and blood, faces obscured by gagged mouths and wide, terror-stricken eyes.

Were the people there alive?

"No... no," Samuel choked, horror gripping his chest like a vice. He pressed against the cold glass, fingertips trailing over its smooth surface as if reaching out to those trapped beyond. His gaze darted from one tortured face to another, unable to comprehend the depths of suffering laid bare before him.

A scientist moved among them with clinical detachment, a figure of authority in the sterile environment.

Samuel's breath caught in his throat. These were not livestock; they were people, once full of dreams and aspirations. Now reduced to mere vessels for experimentation, their humanity stripped away with each invasive procedure.

One figure, a young woman with hollow eyes, met Samuel's gaze through the glass. Her expression was a silent plea for understanding, for someone to acknowledge the nightmare consuming them all. Samuel felt her desperation like a physical blow, a stark reminder of the fragility of life within these walls.

The scientist approached the woman with clinical detachment, wielding a needle with practiced precision. Samuel's heart raced as he witnessed the invasive procedure, the woman's body jerking in response. A cry tore from her throat, muted by the gag as agony etched lines of suffering on her face.

"No!" Samuel's protest emerged as a hoarse whisper, barely audible over the hum of machinery and distant cries. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms as the guards tried pulling him away from there but it was as if his feet had been stuck to the ground. Anguish and helplessness warred within him, emotions raw and unfiltered.

"They're... they're alive," Samuel murmured, voice barely audible over the rush of blood in his ears. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision as he struggled to comprehend the cruelty unfolding before him.

The guards pulled him away, their grip unyielding as they forced him down another corridor. Samuel stumbled, legs heavy with shock, mind reeling with the horrors he had witnessed. His body trembled with a mixture of fear, anger, and helplessness.

"Fuck, Would you just move on livestock?" one guard hissed, a cruel reminder of Samuel's fate. The word echoed in his mind, a bitter truth he could not escape.

Down another corridor, through steel doors that clanged shut behind them, Samuel found himself in a sterile room marked with the ominous 'S' on its door. Inside, technicians awaited, their eyes devoid of compassion as they prepared their instruments.

Samuel turned, eyes blazing with defiance. "They're human! You can't—"

A sharp blow to his gut cut off his words, driving the air from his lungs. Pain flared, but Samuel refused to yield. He couldn't afford to break, not now.

The guard's sneer twisted into a grimace of contempt. "Keep dreaming, S class. This is your reality now."

Reality. The word echoed in Samuel's mind, its weight sinking deep into his bones. This was the world he now inhabited, a world where humanity was a luxury reserved for the privileged few.

As the guard shoved him onward, Samuel cast one final glance at the woman beyond the glass. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, a silent exchange of shared despair. In that brief connection, Samuel found a spark of determination amidst the darkness.

He would not be broken. He would find a way to resist, to fight back against the tyranny that had condemned them all. For her, for himself, for the countless others whose voices had been silenced within these walls.

The journey continued, each step a testament to his resilience. Samuel walked with purpose now, his spirit unbroken despite the weight of his circumstances. Ahead lay uncertainty and fear, but also the flicker of hope—a beacon in the darkest of nights.

And as Samuel disappeared from view, swallowed by the labyrinthine depths of the facility, a whispered promise lingered in the air.

"I will survive," he vowed silently, a mantra against the relentless tide of despair. "I will survive, for as long as there is breath in my body."

The words he had said just a few moments ago had disintegrated from his mind once the door with 'S' carved ominously on it was opened.

Next

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[literaticat]

Publishing aunty please help. Need advice, not publishing related.

What do you do when you're just tired, feeling unfulfilled and want to run away from everything? :( 

That sounds like a classic case of Burnout to me, though it could be combined with something else -- like Depression, or even a medical problem.

(For example, at one point a couple years ago, I was absolutely exhausted for no discernable reason and burst into tears at the drop of a hat -- I chalked it up to "winter blues" and ignored it -- come to find out, eventually, I had severe anemia and my body was not absorbing iron at all and actually it was an autoimmune disorder and became a Whole Thing! Uh... oops!)

This article from the Cleveland Clinic gives a lot of advice about what to do about Burnout -- but the most salient points, I think:

Be gentle with yourself. Everyone goes through it sometimes. You aren't a failure, you're going to be OK, you just have to take care of yourself before you can properly take care of anyone or anything else. So with that resolved:

TELL YOUR SUPPORT SYSTEM HOW YOU ARE FEELING. Keeping this stuff undercover is not going to help. Being honest with your friends/family/partner or whoever your "people" are will lighten your mental load AND they will want to help and support you.

Figure out what your stressors are and tactics to deal with them. Part of this will be linked to the previous part, probably -- For example, if you are burdened by too much work -- DELEGATE or ASK FOR HELP! You've told your support system what's up with you -- now tell them what you need to move forward.

Set Boundaries. If you're the type of person that says yes to everything and then you feel overwhelmed -- remember that it's OK to say NO. It's a good thing, actually. You'll be more "on" for the things that are actually important if you are able to protect your own boundaries and aren't wasting energy on bullshit things. I can't stress enough how important this is (and it's something I am always working on, because it can be tough!) -- but my life CHANGED when I made certain rules for myself and stuck with them. For example, mine: No checking email after 7pm or on weekends. At all. I gotta tell you, my life suddenly got a lot better. (I have forgotten this one recently, and my life has gotten markedly worse -- so I gotta get back to that!)

Go to the doctor. Yes, going to the doctor sucks! But they can make sure your bloodwork is OK, you aren't Vitamin D or Iron deficient, rule out any problems (like, I dunno, severe anemia)... etc etc. Like, step one of Self Care is knowing what your Self is working with. (And if you think you might actually be capital-D Depressed or have anxiety, etc -- ask for a referral to a psychiatrist to see about getting some medicine. IT WORKS!)

Practice Self-Care. Yes, that means the boring stuff like "hydrate" and "make you are getting enough sleep" and "eat your veggies" and "meditate" and whatnot -- but also, you want to "run away from everything"? DO IT. Take a vacation -- or even a staycation -- or even a DAYcation -- where you are literally not doing ANYTHING for anyone else, no email, no nothing. Get a pedicure with extra massage, sit in sunlight with your favorite drink, read a book or just think about NOTHING -- you have no responsibilities except to yourself during this time. It's rejuvenating!

Get toxic feelings out of your system. Find a therapist, if you can afford to do so. (There may be free or inexpensive options if you are a student, or with some insurance, some therapists have a sliding scale for patients, etc) A therapist can give you at least somebody to talk things out with who doesn't know you and isn't judging you. If that's not for you -- journal? Do something artistic? Go to a rage room? Climb a mountain and scream a lot?

Now you are on the road to being healthy, physically and mentally, you hopefully have less stress and are getting your forty winks and all that good stuff -- and hopefully you'll be MUCH better soon.

Good luck!

[pearl-blue-musings]

I’m feeling a little soft for my favorite :3

Slightly self ship coded, very fluffy🥰

It’s the first snow of the year and you and Shinsou have only been dating for a few months

You’ve been careful with your feelings, being guarded from past hurt and Shinsou was respectful of that

He had picked you up from the agency covered in fresh powder. His fuzzy and fluffy hair melting some of the snow into his hair

A warm and youthful smile grows wide as the snowflakes fall around city street, making you skip toward him and hug him tightly, Shinsou swinging you around

He places a soft kiss on your temple and greets you softly, “evening kitten”; you can hear the grin in his voice

He always manages to make you giddy with his soft words and touches, something you haven’t had the guts to tell him

“It’s snowing!” You practically shout at him, “and there’s already so much! How did I not see this?”

Shinsou snickers and takes your gloved hand in his, “if I remember correctly, you had to do a lot of paper work in your clinic.”

You pout and stomp forward, “I just wanted to see the first fall, it’s always so beautiful.”

Shinsou can’t help himself, he wants to say the cheesy line, do the cliche thing, but he would rather admit Kaminari is right

But for you, and his newfound feelings, he’s finding himself doing things he once called cringe

He pulls you into his side and whispers into your ear, “as are you.”

Your heart beats a mile a minute when he says that and you wanna cover your face, but you know he gets pleasure in flustering and teasing you

Shinsou chuckles and let’s you skip ahead of him, trying your best to catch snowflakes on your tongue

By now the two of you have walked into a park, staying close to the light fixtures.

And the more you walk along, the more courage your boyfriend gets to say what he wants to say

He loves the way you twirl under the spotlight of the streetlight, a childlike wonder coming to your face as the snow falls around you

He’s awestruck, he wants to be there for all of your happy and sad times if it means he gets to have you like this

God, he’s just so

“I love you.”

You stop moving and turn to face him fully, your cheeks finally feeling the chill of the winter night.

“You, you what?”

You slowly walk up to him and he bites his lip, removing his hand from the back of his neck before placing both on your waist

“Can’t you hear? I love you, kitten.”

Your eyes go wide as butterflies swirl in your stomach, your hands resting against his chest. There’s a fierceness in his eyes that make you feel safe, like you can entrust every aspect of your life to him

“I,” you start, “I know this is new for me and all and-“

He silences you with a kiss

“I know you care for me, and I care for you too. I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

He pecks your nose and you wanna punch him for being so cute and understanding

“C’mon,” he says smoothly, “let’s get you home for dinner and get some hot chocolate.”

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 9

Today's (7/9/2024) Episode: Baby Blues

Noemi had been worried about giving birth, but it was the post-birth recovery that really demolished her, physically and emotionally.

Besides her much abused nether regions, her milk came in with a vengeance, leaving her feeling swollen and uncomfortable from top to bottom! Every time she had to get up and go to the bathroom it was an achy ordeal, and it felt like she needed to go to the bathroom constantly.

When her never ending need to go was complicated by a burning itch, she gave in and asked Isra to come over and watch Skye so Luigi could take her to the clinic. The meds she received for her UTI would help, but the milk that built up during the long wait left her in pain for an entirely different reason, her breasts unbearably heavy and full.

Things only got worse when Luigi started his new job. He’d offered to delay a little longer or have his dad and stepmom come help, but she’d said no.

Noemi knew how excited he was to begin gaming professionally and they needed the money. As for his family… as much as she liked them, she didn’t feel like socializing, and she wanted to prove to herself that she could do this on her own. Skye was their son and their responsibility.

Amaya had given birth to her boy Greyson at right around the same time as Noemi and she seemed to be doing great. There was no reason, Noemi thought, that she couldn’t do the same if she just tried a little bit harder.

Luigi had done his fair share of the baby care prior to starting his new job even though his squeamishness made it unpleasant. Once he was working, however, he became laser focused on his professional responsibilities, as he was prone to do, leaving Noemi to take on the bulk of the parenting.

She didn’t bring it up, not wanting to distract Luigi and reasoning it was only fair since she wasn’t planning to return to work until Skye aged up. She’d been enough of a burden already – she was starting to feel better physically, she could handle it.

At Luigi’s new office, he learned that Beau was not the only coworker with whom he had a previous connection. The two team rookies were warmly welcomed by Isra’s husband Rhys, who had also achieved his dream of going pro. The three sims quickly found themselves forming a tight bond.

Rhys and Isra lived right down the beach, and when Beau talked about selling his dad’s old place and moving out of the suburbs Luigi convinced him to buy a nice waterfront lot nearby that he and Noemi had rejected during their own home search due its lack of space for a stable.

One of the requirements of the boys' new job was to keep their skills sharp in their off time. He and the others used the nearby gaming center’s frequent virtual gaming tournaments to both practice and hang out. Soon the dedicated Luigi began to win many of those competitions.

With his name beginning to circulate on the gaming circuit the mods and app Luigi had made back in college for Sims Forever got noticed. He’d always had a small but loyal following of folks who liked his work but now the big-name publications and streamers that covered the game were interested.

Luigi had become a bit of an online sensation, and the recognition of his hard work made him feel fantastic!

Stuck at home, Noemi sank further into despair each day. She had so little time to herself, and no energy left to meditate or work on her own hobbies.

Her health had improved, but her mood was worsening, and that just felt ridiculous to her. She was thrilled for her fiancée’s happiness and refused to worry him with her own silly concerns, hiding her growing pain. This would all blow over if she just kept pushing forward, she was sure of it.

Instead of getting better Noemi hit her breaking point late one night. Rising from bed to attend to Skye’s cries, her breasts, as always, painfully full, Noemi went to feed their son but was unable to bring herself to enter the nursery. Suddenly it was all too much. Rather than opening the door she slumped to the floor beside it, an overwhelming feeling of sadness overtaking her.

Skye’s frantic wails finally broke through his daddy’s heavy stupor. Confused Luigi rose, stopping dead when he found Noemi slumped outside the door.

She didn’t respond when he called her name, but Skye’s unceasing cries dragged him away to change their baby. When he came back out to ask if she could feed him, she still wouldn’t look up, holding her hands out in front of her and making vague gestures as if to push him away.

Now Luigi knew something was very wrong. He gave Skye a bottle Noemi had pumped to deal with her overflow and hurried back to his distraught lover.

When he couldn’t get Noemi to tell him what was going on, her only response blank stares and tears, Luigi began to panic. In desperation he called the one person he knew that might be able to help, and her father agreed to come right over, despite the late hour.

Gilbert arrived quickly, but Noemi wouldn’t talk to him either. He finally told Luigi to take her straight to the hospital. With his promise to keep his grandson safe here until she returned, Noemi finally let herself be led towards the teleporter that would transport them to Magnolia Promenade.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here