#so even though she is ill with all the symptoms she will not test

[clovesnz]

CW c*vid

People who get sick and do not test for Covid (who have the financial means to easily do so) and yet still hang around people w out a mask or anything can choke honestly

[trans-axolotl]

having a lot of thoughts about eating disorders + how some of us end up developing chronic illnesses directly because of the physical effects of our eating disorders and how Cruel doctors can be about that and just trying to untangle so much shame and blame from that experience rn

[psychoticallytrans]

There's this idea, fairly common in society, that mental illness is for teens and up. Children are happy little creatures, generally, right? Sometimes they're abused and the trauma can make them mentally ill, but that's not common.

There are two fundamental problems with this attitude. One, it's incorrect to assume that trauma is the only reason a young kid can be mentally ill. Two, trauma is more common than people think. I'll be covering the first problem in this post through the lens of my particular experience.

Where I live, you can be diagnosed with bipolar disorder at 18 years old. You cannot be diagnosed with bipolar disorder as a minor. This poses a problem because my age of onset was in first grade, roughly six years old. Because of the fact that I was very young and new to the world, this was also the age of my first suicide attempt. Thinking I wouldn't be able to pass a spelling test genuinely felt like something worth trying to die over. So, I ate some hemlock, since I'd read about Socrates being killed with it. Luckily, I ate western hemlock, an unrelated species, and just felt kind of sick.

I'm not recounting that for fun or pity. I'm recounting it because children with mental illness are in genuine danger because they have little to no experience with managing their emotions, have little to no concept of the idea that their life can change and improve, and are dismissed by adults. I told a teacher that the test made me want to die, though not that I'd attempted to, and it was brushed off as little kid hyperbole. If I had used a method that was effective rather than one I thought would be, I would have been dead at six years old.

I would not receive medication that worked even a bit for another two years. I would not receive treatment for bipolar disorder specifically for ten years, and that required my PCP fudging the reason for the medication because she was afraid I would die if she didn't, and diagnosis was still two years off at minimum. I received a formal diagnosis at age 19, thirteen years after onset.

But surely that's uncommon, right? This story is a huge edge case, right? I actually have no idea, because age of onset and age of diagnosis are massively conflated for most disabilities. Policies like the one in my area that restricted bipolar diagnoses by age can artificially raise the age of "onset", in my case by thirteen years. The general idea that children are somehow immune to mental illness can also delay diagnosis by several years, perpetuating the idea that young children can't be mentally ill. The data on when people start experiencing mental illness is inherently skewed upwards, and I frankly don't have a good estimate on how bad that skew is. If anyone does have that data, please chime in.

Listen to children. If they're saying they're sad all the time, that they don't care about anything, that they don't see a future for themselves, those are signs of depressive symptoms. If they say that tests make them feel sick, that they can't do anything because they're scared, that they can't breathe and freeze up, those are signs of anxious symptoms. Many children talk about imaginary things, and that's just fine, but slip in a question or two about them to make sure that the kid is just playing, and not experiencing psychosis.

Children are new to the world and vulnerable, and they don't know what's normal and what isn't. They need people who are more experienced watching out for problems they might be having, and listening when they talk about having problems. If you can, try to be the person who perceives them, and tells them that things can be better.

[retroaria]

hey! I'm not really into nsfw stuff- sooo would you like to do something soft with reo? 😭 like, idk, him as a husband or father so with a family? THANK YOU SO MUCH 💗💗

✮⋆˙ domestic reo headcanons ✮⋆˙

a/n: this is so brain rotted i can’t even lie i think reo is just so easy to romanticize. pure fluff.

• | BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy !! - aria 💜 | •

✮ I actually love this because i headcanon that reo would be a great dad :D at the very least he’d be extremely supportive of whatever his children wanted to do in their lives. He wouldn’t force them to follow in his footsteps like his father and he’d use whatever devices he could to ensure they can comfortably follow the path they choose.

✮ Would post about all his children’s accomplishments, or if you guys didn’t feel comfortable posting the kids he’d still take any chance to tell everyone about it - even his teammates who literally don’t care that his son got the highest score on the spelling test (they’re happy for him though). He secretly enjoys scrapbooking for his kids but they’re “your books” and he “just helps you with it sometimes”. (he’s the one who took almost all the pictures and saved every piece of paper his kid has ever drawn on)

✮ Reo is a charming husband, so charming and sweet it’s hard to be mad at him. He’s a bit lacking in cleaning/caretaking capabilities when it comes to the home but he puts in the effort??? He tries his best and if he does a bad job he always makes it up to you one way or another. In all honesty, he’s probably already hired people to do that (forgot this man is inheriting a multi millionaire dollar corporation).

✮ Reo is however very good at taking care of children. Once he has a clear grasp of their needs, he finds it to be really enjoyable and fulfilling. He takes a lot of pride in whatever happiness and comfort he can bring to his kids. He hates the sound of his babies crying, not because it’s annoying (though he complains about that too) but because it genuinely hurts his soul. He can be a bit too worrisome about it sometimes - he’s totally the type of person to look up his child’s symptoms and freak out over seeing all the worst case scenarios.

✮ The one thing that reo particularly excels at is taking care of you when you’re sick. He can always tell when you’re not feeling your best and he immediately harps on you. He doesn’t know how to cook very well but he knows how to make a few different kinds of warm foods to fill your stomach and give you a little energy. He’d absolutely refuse to stay away from you (unless it was a seriously contagious illness or if you guys had a baby that could’ve gotten sick). Doesn’t care if you’re sneezing and coughing and wheezing, he wants to feed you and hold you and kiss your hot head until it cools down and everything is better again. His goal is always to make sure you get better as soon as possible and won’t let you do anything but rest and relax until then.

✮ Reo is an incredible gift giver! I’ve certainly mentioned this in another hc post, but he is always out and about buying you little things that remind him of you. If you guys have a kid that’s just more gifts he’ll have to get and the thought of that honestly excites him.

✮ Anything can happen but…reo with a daughter…guys….

✮ he would be the sweetest girl dad! would do everything in his power to make her believe she’s an actual princess and he’s just one of her loyal servants. Spoils her rotten and doesn’t feel bad about it.

✮ You’d have to explain to him how this could negatively affect your daughter and it would break his heart. He’d go into theatrics trying to refute it because “What do you mean I can’t let her have everything she wants?” and “What if she cries? You want me to make my daughter cry?” he gets it eventually, but remains reluctant lol.

✮ He’d love playing sports with his kids. Would try to get them into soccer but if they end up liking another sport he’s still just as hype. Isn’t initially familiar with the concept of letting the kids win but soon realized he has to level with the speed of their little legs.

✮ I don’t have any specific hc’s for him as a boy dad but he’d be just as great of course - he’d make sure his son sees how women should be treated based on how he treats you!

✮ If he could find a way to make you the total world ruler he would because he truly believes you’re the most capable person. He’s the kind of husband who lets you run things for the most part but is always there to step in when you need a break or if you just want him by your side. Would call for an emergency flight back home from whatever country he’s training in just because you said you didn’t wanna go to parent teacher night alone.

✮ He loves doing mundane tasks with you, but always tries to “make it a bit more fun” as he says - which basically means he puts away the clothes you fold while you listen to him crack really bad jokes at you, gossip about his teammates, or try to sing and serenade you with his MANY playlists he’s made dedicated to you. On days you both have nothing going on he follows you around the house like a lost puppy, which is slightly annoying but it also means you have four hands to do stuff because he’s a participator above all else.

✮ Reo always makes sure to show his appreciation for how hard you work whether it’s at your job, taking care of the kids/house, or both. He takes time alone with you very seriously, even as your lives get busier and your family grows he always makes sure there’s time for the two of you to just be together and be in love. Always jokes about how you guys need to keep the romance going. He has small romantic gestures that he indulges you in throughout the day: kissing you on the cheek, brushing your hair out of your face/tying it back for you if you if you need (taking his hair tie out for you to use), hugging you a little tighter just before you get up, running a bath for the both of you, massaging your shoulders while you talk.

to be fully honest with you guys, i have never in my life wanted to have kids so it was a bit hard for me to imagine what being happy with children would be like LMAO but alas i did my best. stay safe and stay cool. - aria :3

[bucksangel]

Okay but imagine bunny has just been feeling so ill :((( and she’s so so sorry Bucky has to take care of her like this :( but she still tries to make him meals and keep up with her chores and be good for him :( even though he’s adamant that she not lift a finger until she’s better

Maybe he comes home one day and she’s crying and she’s apologizing because she knows he’s so stressed already with work and she’s just so so sorry for adding to that :(

And he’s just like “what are you talking about? why are you sorry”

And then she just hands him a positive pregnancy test and keeps apologizing for giving him one more thing to worry about

But he’s just immediately thrilled and is already thinking about how to decorate the nursery and he can’t wait to fuck the tears away while calling her his little mama

Anyway… I’ll see myself out… splendid writing as always my dear!!! <3

I’m literally laying on my stomach with my legs in the air and i’m kicking them and giggling, you’re so kind. And i looooove this idea so here’s a lil drabble :) (also you are always welcome to come back😭😭)

Title: An Odd Flu

pairing: sofdark!ceo!bucky x naive!assistant!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: 18+ so minors dni, mentions of vomiting and being sick, so much fluff, minor angst, hints of abortion though it’s not said outright (only 2-3 sentences), soft love-making, sir kink, petnames (bunny, mama (but not in a mommy kink way)), fingering, dom!bucky, sub!reader, aftercare

main masterlist | run little bunny masterlist

-

Originally, you thought it was an odd case of the flu. You weren’t running a fever and you weren’t feeling overheated or freezing cold, but you were so tired all the time that you’d have to take a midday nap in order to stay awake long enough to have dinner with James. Then it was the vomiting, you’d wake up around seven in the morning and rush to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach.

What made things better was that James had been there for you, waiting on you hand and foot whenever he was home. He’d draw you baths and massage your back to relieve your sore muscles. He’d make you soup and tea, going so far as to feed you by hand. He would even cancel meetings if you were feeling especially awful.

But that’s where the problem lies. Leading up to your flu James had been stressed. There was meeting after meeting, paperwork the height of the Empire State Building, and calls coming in after the previous one ended. You already felt physically bad, but the fact that he’s become stretched even thinner has you feeling bad emotionally.

This morning in particular has been the worst of the last three weeks. You gagged when you went downstairs and smelt the eggs James was cooking and had to rush to the bathroom. Your headache felt more like a migraine and all you really want to do is curl up next to James in bed and have him rub your back.

But that’s not possible today. James had a meeting that he had been trying to organize for the past month and it was with people outside of the U.S., so there was no way he could miss it. He still offered to stay home anyway and let his right-hand man, Steve, take over, but you nearly cried when he suggested it. You didn’t want to mess anything up just because you were sick. So, at your insistence, he left with a kiss on your forehead and made you promise to call him if anything got worse.

The only stipulation was that you had to see a doctor while he was gone. His personal doctor, because of course he’s rich enough to have a personal doctor, agreed to come over and check you out.

It was when she got there that things started to feel… off. She noted your symptoms with a glint in her eye that told you she immediately knew what was going on. When she put away her tools, she reached into a different pocket in her bag, giving it to you with a small, knowing smile.

It was a pregnancy test. And suddenly you’re questioning everything. The morning sickness, the aversion to foods you once craved, the crying spells.

Then, you remember your period was supposed to start two days ago. When it didn’t come you just assumed it was because you were ill. Now, though, things are making sense.

That doesn’t stop the insecurities from creeping in. James has been so busy with work lately and this is just one more stressor to add to that. And on top of that, you haven’t been able to do as much cleaning or cooking as you normally do, as much as you want to do. James has been insistent that you not overexert yourself by doing your daily tasks, but you feel so bad that he has to come home from a long day of work to the house being a mess.

When you go to the bathroom, your hands are shaking as you hold the test in the proper position. You’ve always wanted kids, and you can’t imagine having babies with anyone else except James. He always takes care of you, is always lovely and patient even when he’s exhausted and snapping at everyone else, he’s the perfect man and would make a perfect father.

Your hands continue to shake as you wash them, and your whole body vibrates with nerves as you walk back out into the living room to see Doctor Romanoff packing the rest of her things. Her eyes are sympathetic when she senses your anxiety, and she carefully takes the test from you.

The five-minute wait is agonizing, you’re unable to sit still so you’ve been pacing back and forth around the living room awaiting the results. And when the timer goes off, your whole body goes rigid. Your back is to Doctor Romanoff when you hear her hum thoughtfully.

You know what that sound means.

It takes all your effort to turn around, but when you do you find her arm outstretched, offering you the test.

“I’m not sure if it’s the answer you want, but I’m here for whatever you need.”

Hesitantly, you reach out to take the test from her. And, with a big breath, you look down to see the little pink plus sign staring back at you, and tears immediately fill your eyes. You know that James wants kids, he’s very bad at dropping hints when you go to the store and pass by the baby aisle. But, he’s overworked right now, constantly answering calls and responding to emails, and you’re doubting if now is the right time to have a baby.

“Um, th-thank you,” You say weakly, looking up at her with a wavering smile. She nods, and you lead her to the front door and wave her goodbye.

The tears start falling when the door closes behind her, and you quickly rush to your room. You’re staring at the test through your clouded vision, worrying yourself over how to tell him. You know you need to, you want to. So, once you’ve calmed down you pull out your laptop and search for different ideas.

“Bunny, I’m home!” James sounds tired, exhausted really, though you hope the smell of chicken and vegetables will help him wake up a little.

“I’m in the kitchen!” Your hands are shaking so badly when you take the pan out of the oven, and you have to hurry to place it on the counter before you drop it. Suddenly, James’ arms wrap around your waist, pressing his chest to your back and tucking his face into your neck to breathe in your perfume.

“What did I say about overexerting yourself?” His voice is soft, even though he’s clearly tired you know he’s about to march you upstairs and tuck you into bed. “You need your rest.”

“Well, I feel bad for not cleaning as much as I used to, and you’ve been so tired lately.” You pause, taking a large breath and turning in his arms so you can loop your arms around his neck. Your eyes start to water when you see his eyebrows furrow with concern. “Besides, it’s not going to go away any time soon. Google says that morning sickness can last up to 20 weeks and your doctor says I’m only five weeks along.”

James opens his mouth to say something, then promptly closes it when he registers your words. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his hold on you slightly loosening as he flounders for a minute. You can see in his eyes that he’s trying to piece together all of your symptoms from the last few weeks, and he’s a smart man, so it’s not a surprise that he figures it out pretty quickly.

“Are… Are you…?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Time seems to stand still, James seems to have frozen in place trying to sink in your words. And the longer the silence goes on the more worried you become, and a few tears slide down your cheeks.

“I-I know this isn’t the ideal time, and you’re extremely busy with work, but it just happened. I’m so sorry, I know this is just going to make you even more stressed, and I-I don’t know what you want to do, but –” You’re cut off by James pressing his lips to yours, his arms tightening around your body and pulling you into his chest.

The kiss is frantic, desperate, excited. And when James pulls back you can’t help but follow his lips with yours, trying to keep the kiss going. But James doesn’t give in, instead, he leans back enough to be able to look into your eyes. And his are glassy, filled with unshed tears as he brings up one hand to brush away yours with his thumb.

“Fuck, bunny. Don’t be sorry, never be sorry for this. Bunny, you’re – you’re giving me everything I’ve wanted since I first saw you.”

Loosening his arms around your waist, he drops to his knees, placing one hand on your hip and covering your stomach with the other. He stares at your belly with amazement, then pushes up your shirt so he can kiss your belly. Your hands immediately find their way into his hair, rubbing his scalp and running your fingers through it. After a couple of minutes, he finally moves back to look up at you.

“You’re really pregnant?” He smiles wide when you nod, more tears involuntarily sliding down your cheeks.

“I’m really pregnant.” Your voice wavers, but you’re finally at ease, no longer worried about how James would react.

“Fuck, bunny,” He whispers, slowly rising to his feet and grabbing your hips. He leans down, brushing his lips over yours and smiling a little when you whine. “You’re going to be such a pretty mama.”

James is unable to stop himself from lifting you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. You bury your face in his neck, kissing and nibbling on his skin until he gets to your room and lays you gently on the bed.

He doesn’t immediately climb onto the bed, he just stands at the end of the bed and stares at you with a mixture of love and lust. A few moments of silence goes by before you finally whine, wiggling your hips to hopefully entice him.

It works. James shrugs off his jacket and unbuttons his shirt, smirking at you the whole time because your eyes are roaming over his bare chest, and you’re practically drooling when he gets to his pants.

“See something you like?” He chuckles when you glare at him.

“You know I do, so please hurry up. I want you inside me.” While you were teasing, you know you’ve made a mistake when his smile drops and one of his eyebrows raises.

“Where are those manners, bunny? Just because I knocked you up doesn’t mean I’m not still your Sir.”

“I’m sorry, sir! I-I didn’t mean to - I just -“ You stumble over your words, not worried about him punishing you physically, but you know he’s not above edging you for hours on end, and you’re sure you’ll actually cry if that happens.

“I know, bunny,” James coos, finally stepping out of his pants and boxers and kicking them to the side. Before you can say anything he grabs you by your ankles, then tugs you down the bed until your legs are dangling off the edge. “It’s okay, you’re still my good little bunny.”

You moan at his words, a pleasant fuzziness clouding your head. And then James helps you sit up a little so he can unzip your dress — his favorite floral one — and slide the straps down your arms. When he lays you back down he pulls the dress down and off your body, groaning when he sees your bare body, just as he likes it. One of his rules about living with him is that you’re not to wear panties or a bra, you have to always be ready for him.

You and James have never been more grateful for it.

“Fuck, bunny,” James groans and takes hold of his achingly hard cock, squeezing the base. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Going to make such a beautiful mama.”

“Sir, please.” Your eyes water, this time from frustration. You need him inside you immediately.

“Okay, bunny, okay, don’t worry your pretty little head.” James climbs onto the bed and arranges your bodies so he’s sitting against the headboard and you’re sitting on his lap, your back to his chest and your pussy resting over his throbbing dick.

It takes everything in you not to roll your hips against his, the only reason you don’t is because you want to be good for him. He seems to recognize this and lovingly kisses your cheek, humming softly.

“My good girl, my perfect girl,” James mumbles into your ear, placing his hands on the inside of your thighs and spreading them wide open, hooking your ankles around his calves. He drags one hand up to rest lightly on your stomach, his other stroking your thigh, climbing higher and higher until you’re practically vibrating with need.

“Sir.” You’re already sounding pathetic, but, to be fair, James has that effect on you. With only a few touches he can render you dumb, but you love it.

“What do you need, bunny?” James asks as though he doesn’t already know what you need. What you crave.

“You, sir. Always you.” Tears spring to your eyes, damn your hormones.

James sighs behind you, trailing his lips to your cheek, down to your jaw, and then your neck.

“You have me, pretty mama. You always have me. I’m yours as much as you are mine.” His words make you sniffle, a few tears sliding down your cheeks.

You’re so lucky.

“Come here, bunny.” James urges you off his lap, maneuvering your bodies so you’re laying down and he’s hovering over you. He leans on one elbow and reaches up with his other hand to wipe away a few tears, smiling softly when you nuzzle his palm.

“Are you going to let me love on you, pretty mama?”

“Y-Yes, please. Please!” You’re slipping even further into that soft space where nothing else matters except for James, except for Sir.

James leans down, brushing his lips against yours and chuckling when you whine. The moment he finally kisses you he slides his hand down your neck to your breasts, lighting tugging at one of your nipples before sliding down further until he can spread your legs. He only pulls back when his hand makes it to the inside of one of your thighs, cooing when you whimper.

“It’s okay, bunny. I’m going to give you everything you need.” He’s slow and careful when he inches closer to your soaking pussy, running his thumb along your lips and dipping in to gently rub your clit.

He teases you for a long while, staring into your eyes when he dips two fingers in your hole easily due to how wet you are. He’s slow and methodical as he slips in another finger, kissing your cheeks every so often to catch stray tears. When he finally decides you’ve had enough teasing he starts thrusting his fingers faster, crooking them upwards to hit your special spot.

It doesn’t take long at all for you to cum, both because of James’ expert fingering and because of his husky voice whispering praises in your ear. And it’s an intense orgasm, your body going so far as to squirt liquid all over his hand.

It does take a bit for you to come down from your high, your mind is too clouded and fuzzy from pleasure. But when you do come to your senses you’re in the bathtub, your back to his chest as you soak in the warm water. James’ hands are on your stomach, rubbing over it as though it holds a priceless gem.

And, to be fair, there is. The little baby growing inside you is going to be the most loved child in the world.

“James?” Your voice is soft, not wanting to disturb the peace.

“Yes, bunny?” He kisses your neck, and you lean against him further.

“What, um—“ You wiggle a little, feeling his now only semi-hard cock against your lower back. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” James hums, suckling at your skin. “Tonight is about you, pretty mama.”

You’ll never understand how it’s possible to love someone as much as you love James, let alone be loved by such a perfect man, but you won’t question it.

tagging: @hisredheadedgoddess28

[iwritefandomimagines]

I COULD KISS YOU — GREG HOUSE

masterlist

pairing: greg house x reader

description: when an offhand comment to praise house for helping you diagnose a patient leads to the silent treatment, you’re both forced to confront the feelings that had been lingering unspoken for too long.

warnings: swearing, angst to a teeny bit of fluff, may be a lil ooc as i’m still iffy on fleshing out how i write the house characters but i’m trying <3

author’s note: had this idea and got excited so bashed it out quite quickly while i was motivated af — hopefully you enjoy !!! let me know what you think

“Gregory House, you bloody genius,” you exclaimed, clenching your fists in excitement, unable to stop the words that came flying out next, “I could kiss you!”

You’d been trying to diagnose your patient for nigh on a week now, and with the young boy’s symptoms rapidly progressing and his condition rapidly worsening, House’s diagnostic expertise provided exactly the breakthrough you needed.

You were ecstatic — mentally piecing together just how he had to be correct — and so without another word you practically skipped out of his office to run some tests and reach the certainty needed to treat the boy as soon as possible.

What House had suggested made perfect sense, accounting for every symptom and every adverse reaction to the treatments you had tried so far, and though you usually mocked his tendency to always smugly assume he was right, at present you were immeasurably grateful for his input.

You were disappointed, then, when you rushed to tell him that the young boy was responding incredibly well to the treatment he suggested and he simply gave you his smug “I-told-you-so” smile and rushed away from you.

He didn’t speak to you again for the rest of the day, choosing instead to actually take time to visit his patients rather than deal with encountering you again.

“What did I do to piss House off?” you asked Cameron, Foreman and Chase shyly as you stood near the nurse’s station with them.

They all just eyed you like the answer was obvious, but Chase shrugged, “When has anyone ever needed to actually do something to piss him off?”

“No, he won’t even talk to me right now,” you frowned, brows furrowed, “It’s weird. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong since this morning.”

The group all looked between eachother, as though deciding who would be the one to have to tell you the honest truth.

“Probably something to do with your little ‘I could kiss you’,” Chase replied, doing a terrible impersonation of you and batting his eyelids flirtatiously as he quoted you, “He didn’t seem to like that very much.”

Your mouth was parted in confusion, “Firstly, I do not sound like that. But secondly, why would he give me the silent treatment for that? Is the idea of kissing me that repulsive?”

Cameron scoffed, rolling her eyes, “You’re both as oblivious as each other, Y/N… He’s ignoring you for literally the opposite reason.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

Was she seriously trying to tell you that House was ignoring you because he didn’t like you joking about kissing him?

“Don’t be ridiculous!��

“It’s literally painfully obvious, Y/N,” Foreman groaned, “You’ve had this weird sexual tension going on forever and given that he’s usually bad at giving a damn about people, he gets weird about you. And he obviously has feelings for you, so it rubbed him up the wrong way.”

Chase chuckled, “They’re right. He’s only mad at you because you’re the only person he’s never mad at but you hurt the feelings he apparently has.”

You pondered what he was saying for a moment, trying to piece together whether there was any semblance of truth behind their explanation for House’s weird behaviour.

Truth be told, it was the exact kind of petty and ill-fitting behaviour you’d expect from House.

For such a brilliant man, he could be utterly childish at times, especially if he wasn’t getting his way.

Your relationship had always teetered on the edge of professionalism — he was always making flirtatious comments, he always took your suggestions on board more than the others, always sung your praises to your peers and superiors.

Whilst everyone else was certain it was proof of his feelings for you, you had just thought he appreciated that you never pried into his life unless he offered to divulge information himself, and you were excellent at your job.

Of course, you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed your ambiguous relationship, given the crush you had harboured since very early on in your acquaintance. That’s why you always flirted back, always made sure your input was carefully though out, and why you were always singing his praises too.

But it was Greg House — a man who so famously behaved as though he didn’t care about anyone. So of course you didn’t think that things would ever progress past your unprofessional professional relationship.

“Where is he?”

“In his office,” Cameron smiled, “He told me to make sure nobody bothered him, and I think he meant you because he’s still throwing his toys out of the pram.”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, “God, he’s ridiculous. I’m going to go and talk to him. Or try, anyway. Wish me luck.”

“Is this House we’re talking about?” Dr. James Wilson made an appearance at your side now, his brow quirked in curiosity as he butted into the conversation.

You nodded, “He’s being a baby instead of actually talking to me about why he’s mad.”

You hoped he’d have some kind of more concrete explanation, given that he was the only person House was even remotely honest around.

“He’s hardly an expert at talking about his feelings, is he? Or having them, actually,” Wilson chuckled, “But he’s been grumbling all day. Please do go and speak to him. For my sanity’s sake, if not your relationship’s.”

“Slow down, Wilson,” you scoffed, but though you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself, you couldn’t deny the fluttering in your stomach at any sort of reference to you and House’s potential relationship, “I’m going!”

You entered the room without even knocking, folding your arms over your chest with a stern expression on your features as you strode towards his desk and stood firmly in front of him.

“I’m busy.”

“Busy being petty and ignoring me?”

He looked up now, narrowing his eyes as he realised you were not going to meekly scuttle away like you had done every other time he’d dismissed you today.

“What makes you think that?” sarcasm dripped from his words, “I just so enjoy spending time getting to know my patients and doing paperwork!”

You huffed out a sigh, frustrated by him already trying to dodge the subject, “Greg.”

“Y/N.”

“Greg!”

“Y/N!” he matched your tone just to challenge you, and you scoffed, “Are you really going to be like this?”

“Like what?”

“So deliberately evasive?”

His lips drew together in a thin line as he eyed you carefully, “How’s your little boy from this morning?”

“You are so fucking frustrating, Greg,” you scowled, “Can we have an adult conversation here?”

He appeared to ponder over another joke to make, but apparently for the first time in his life thought better, as he remained silent and waited for you to continue.

“I’ve been so stressed out about that kid, and you helped me to help him massively — he’s likely to be discharged by tomorrow. I was so happy, so relieved, and I said I could kiss you,” you began, avoiding his gaze at first until your final sentence, “And it was a silly offhanded comment about how grateful I was, but at the same time I honestly could’ve kissed you because I quite honestly want to a lot of the time.”

Oh my God — you’d stunned the Greg House into silence?

Your breathing was jagged, “I don’t know if you’re just being an ass because you don’t like being on the other end of jokes, or if the team actually aren’t just blind hopeless romantics and you actually care about me. But I just wish you’d talk to me instead of doing all this and making me feel like you don’t care at all.”

He pulled himself up onto his feet, grabbing his cane to lean on as he inched closer to you.

“It’s a bit of both,” his voice was low, and you were sure that if you didn’t know him better you might believe him to be shy about telling you the truth, “I’m not good at caring, and I don’t usually like caring, but I guess I do. Sue me!”

You took another step forward, so that you were so close you were breathing right in each other’s faces.

You were trying to be brave and command the conversation, but your stomach was doing backflips as it dawned on you that what he meant was that he really did feel the same about you.

“Why would you go silent on me then instead of talking to me about it?” you bit your lip as you spoke, and caught notice of how his eyes trailed to your lips as you did so.

He swallowed thickly, “Didn’t feel right to. Hardly professional, is it?”

“Oh, because you’re the picture of professionalism usually aren’t you?” you laughed dryly.

“Point taken,” he shrugged, “Maybe I was little scared. And we’ve got a good thing going, it’s a risk pushing things any further.”

You weren’t happy with that, not when this was Greg House — king of taking risks and breaking rules — and you were certain that it was a risk worth taking anyway.

“When has risk ever stopped you?” you asked, whispering now as your eyes darted between his and his lips whilst he mirrored your behaviour.

“Point also taken,” he mumbled, before finally taking the plunge and bringing his lips to yours in a heated kiss that you leaned into immediately.

He quickly leaned back to sit on the edge of his desk, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you to stand between his parted legs.

You pulled back, suddenly aware that anyone could come in at this moment and see you — and whilst the biggest risk here really was endless teasing from the team or a scolding from Cuddy, you did still have some things to discuss too.

You didn’t want to ruin the moment, overcome with giddiness at what had just happened, but you wanted to make your feelings clear; Even if it was to a man who would probably make a jokey remark and underplay his own feelings.

“I don’t know your relationship history, and I don’t care to,” you shrugged, moving your hands to your hips but hardly moving away from him, “Well, I’m not rushing to. I can assume it’s not great, but I just want to take every day as it comes and see where things go because mine isn’t great either. I’m not gonna hurt you, Greg.”

The sincerity in his eyes as he gazed up at you made your heart melt, and you could tell that somehow, some way, you had gotten through to him.

“Don’t make promises you can’t be certain that you’ll keep, Y/N,” he mumbled, before shaking off his own words and standing back up to stare into your eyes intently, “But fine. Because it’s you, I’m willing to try. Provided there’s more of this,” he kissed you again before continuing, “And less of them ogling and concocting their little romantic stories about the lovely doctor Y/N and her damaged old fool.”

You turned around to see the entire team peering through the window, all smiles and whispered chatter at the sight before them.

You raised your middle finger to them, turning back to look at House and stepping back a little from him.

“Unfortunately, those nosey fuckers are not going anywhere,” you rolled your eyes, “If you’re willing to try then we’re going for dinner. Tonight. And we’re going to have a good time, and not talk about this place or about anything you don’t want to.”

He nodded, “I’ll pretend I’m not furious you’ve robbed me of making the grand romantic gesture of being the one to ask,” he cocked his head as he joked, truthfully very much pleased you were the one to ask and confirm that your interest in him was genuine, “But sounds good to me. I’ll wear my nicest tux, eh.”

“Yeah, yeah, ha ha,” you hummed, “Now I’ve got a living patient to go and visit thanks to you. Enjoy your afternoon with that lot,” you gestured to your friends, who were all still stood there watching you, “Good luck. Oh, and pick somewhere to book for us to eat. That can be your grand romantic gesture, hm.”

“Gee, thanks,” he laughed, shaking his head, “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” you grinned, swanning out of his office with the biggest smile possible painting your features.

You nudged past your friends as they watched you walk down the corridor, happier than they had probably ever seen you in the time that you’d known them.

They immediately filed into House’s office when you were out of sight, and his head fell back in irritation for a moment despite the smile still gracing his lips.

“Things went well, then?”

“Go away,” he replied, “I’m in a good mood for once, and you idiots aren’t going to ruin that, alright?”

“Woah, okay,” Foreman laughed, “Who are you and what has Y/N done with Greg House?”

———

thanks for reading !!! i hope enjoyed and this wasn’t too ooc lol. let me know what you though pleaaase & if you’d like — feel free to request!

in the meantime, here is my masterlist!

[thewritingofspencerrose]

mclaren masterlist : masterlist

New Addition

Lando Norris x OC Inspired by Mclaren surprising Lando with the puppies! I've had this in the drafts for a while, but was lacking a lot of writing drive lately, so we'll see if this gets me back into the groove!

The week began as they always do when we're just beginning the summer break.

Lan and I, lazying about the condo in the morning, simply enjoying each others company, before he is called off to MTC and I hop online for my asynchronis classwork.

It's our routine that I love so much, no matter how chaotic, before we take off on whatever adventures he has planned for us for the next few weeks.

Today was different though.

I spent the morning sick as a sailor, Lan holding my hair back and wiping my forehead with a damp towel. That is, until he had to go in to the MTC for a filming session, one he had convinced the uppers to allow Max to film for a Quadrant day in the life. His hesitance was written all over his face, but with a bit of convincing and the promise that I would invite a friend over, I was able to coax him out the door.

"It sounds like you've had a long morning," Kelly sighs with a frown, sitting across from me. When I had called her up, she and P were more than happy to come keep me company. There may be nearly twelve years between us, but from the moment Max and Lando introduced the two of us, it was easy to bring Kelly into my life as the elder sister I so dearly wished for as a child. And now she's here, her daughter's head fast asleep on my lap as I card my fingers through her hair.

"It's just that I am so rarely sick that to be this sick is more annoying than anything," I try to explain, "We're supposed to leave to travel with Martin in a week and I just can't keep being ill, my least favorite thing in life is feeling like I'm not up to my usual speed."

Kelly's eyes light up a bit, glazing over in a look of recognition. "Have you had any other weird symptoms lately? Anything you should keep in mind if you call the doctor?"

"Just some extra tenderness and I've been exhausted, but it's been a long few weeks with the double header and triple header nearly back to back," Its an explanation, one all of the girlfriends have discussed while sipping drinks over the weekends away.

The older of the two can't help but smile, "Dahlia, how about we run to the corner store and see about a test or two?"

A test? A test!

Oh my God.

"Baby? It's me!" Lan's smooth voice follows click of the door. He's always so loud while out and about, but home, with me, he's so soft.

It's why he's so good with kids at the track.

With Leo and Roscoe and Simba.

With me.

"In the kitchen, love!" In the kitchen with a bag that will change everything.

And there's a yip. A tiny little bark that has my brows furrowing and thoughts leaving my head.

"Lan? What was that noise?" Feet tapping against the ground, I can hear his approach as I step away from the cutting board, the yipping sound continuing. "Okay Lan honestly, what is that-"

It's his rounding the corner that cuts off the all the thoughts that have been spiraling through my head since Kelly, P and I took our little adventure.

He has a dog. In his arms. A little one that is squirming every which way, a collar the color of his race suit around its neck.

Lan has a hesitant smile, the same one he had when he asked me out way back when, and the same one I wasn't expecting to see today. "Surprise?"

My hands find him hips with little thought, staring him down. "Lando Norris, why do you have a dog?"

"I was hoping she could be the newest member of our family?" Oh he's in for something else in a minute or two.

She's is adorable, all happy and squirmy as she rests in whats basically the size of Lan's palm. It's why I move towards him, taking the little thing into my arms and letting her lap at me. "Where did you even find her?"

"Mclaren promo video for a shelter, I spent the morning with dogs and she just really seemed to like me! Stayed in my lap the whole time! So I couldn't just let her be taken back when I knew we could offer her a home!" He's stepping closer, breathe gently fanning over my head as he scratches the pups, his eyes meeting my own with a softness I wasn't expecting. "I know I can't commit to a real kid for a few years, but I was thinking that she could take that place in the mean time."

"About that-" I begin, knowing now is the only right time to mention it. "You know how I was throwing up all morning? And for the last few weeks?"

Theres a spark, the light recognition of an idea in his head, but all he does is nod.

"Well, I had Kelly and P over today while you were out, and we got talking as we do, and she suggested that I take a test."

"A test?" He's piecing this all together.

"A pregnancy test."

"And?" Tears are pooling in his eyes, and while we've discussed kids, we've never discussed the possibility of kids this early, while he's at the peak of his career. "You can't just leave me on a cliff hanger like that, Babe."

"What do you want the answer to be?"

"Babe," This may be the one time in Lando's life that he's stern out of bed.

"It was positive."

There's a pause, the longest of my life, if it wasn't for the fact it was only mere seconds before his arms are wrapped around me, nearly crushing the puppy between us who's only thought is to continue yipping happily. "Lan, baby, I'm going to need something verbal here."

His eyes are meeting mine again, tears trailing down his cheeks as his million dollar smile shines. His hands are still planted on my hips, keeping us close. "You could not have said anything to make me happier than I am right now," and there's so much emotion behind each and every word that I can't help but begin to cry as well. "We're having a baby!"

I can't help but giggle at his joy, "We are! And we have a puppy!"

His lips meet mine, before coming down and meeting the dogs head, nearly bouncing out of his skin. "This is perfect babe, we'll be able to train her and by the time baby Norris is born she'll be ready to be her best friend!"

"Her?"

"I'm calling it now," He states as if it's a matter of fact, curls bopping on his head as he moves. Our lips meet once more, smiles making it awkward like our teenage years, but with so much joy it feels infectious. "Oh my God I need to call Carlos!"

"You what?" There is no way Carlos is the one on his mind right now.

"I have to tell him that Pinon has a new friend! And I'm going to be a dad! He can stop making jokes about me being a child!" He may just be more enthusiastic about this than the baby or the dog. But he's Lando, and I'll give him a time for it later, because seeing him this enthusiastic is a sight too good to miss.

[tiredfox64]

Part three of Go for the Kill? But its based ok the ending where reason is with all three of the brothers? She soon gets knocked up and the threee fight over whose it is? >:3

The Soil was Tilled Enough

Prior notes: I knew somebody would ask for this. Had a That’s so Raven moment when I was writing that last part.

Pairings: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: You’re gonna have a stroke with my reasoning.

You are faced with a light pink stick in your hands. You were growing tired and sick just days before which worried the brothers a lot. The last thing they want is for their vicious woman to grow horribly ill. Oh but this is no illness. This is the miracle of life.

Yeah this is a strange situation. Truly a spectacle that has some people, or more like someone, disappointed. Liu Kang ain’t too happy that his paid assassin would be out of commission for at least a year. What he also doesn’t like is hearing that the brothers are fighting over who is the father. The yelling is really getting annoying.

“It can’t possibly be your child! I slept with her first!” Bi-Han yelled directly in Tomas’ face.

“We all slept with her first! You are just jealous that the baby is possibly mine!” Tomas yelled right back.

The only one staying calm was Kuai Liang. He stayed right next to you, rubbing your belly as you contemplated the same thing. Who is the father?

Alright, so you put too much faith into Plan B. Guess it wasn’t made to handle loads upon loads of baby-making liquid from men who probably never allowed themselves to feel relief in quite a while. Plus the fact that they love you a lot made the chances of you getting pregnant much higher. I think they were aiming for that goal but I’m not a mind reader.

“What are we gonna do? Are we ready enough to handle having a baby and raising it?” You questioned, concerned about way too many things.

“Of course can handle it. The baby will be in safe hands. Even if the baby is not mine I promise to take care of them as if they were my own.” Kuai Liang made that promise to you.

Kuai Liang really loves you and just wants the best for you. He doesn’t want you to worry too much especially now that’s you are pregnant. His commitment to you made you feel a little better, knowing he won’t be mad about whose baby it is. The other two…yeah that’s gonna take some time.

At this point Bi-Han had Tomas in a headlock which made Tomas start punching Bi-Han’s arms in defense. Kuai Liang ran in to split the two apart.

“Enough of this! This fighting won’t solve anything.” He yelled at them both.

“I do not understand why you are not threatened by the fact that Tomas might have impregnated her. What good will that baby do coming from a man like him?” Bi-Han was being harsh again which made Tomas punch him.

“It does not matter. She is pregnant and she wants to keep it. We must support her no matter what.”

Kuai Liang was right and all the brothers had to agree with his statement. Though Bi-Han was still being as stubborn as ever. If he just keeps the mindset that it’s his baby in there he will be fine.

“Well, do you know how far along you are?” Tomas asked.

“Considering the last time we did it was a couple of weeks ago and I’m getting sick, it might be four to six weeks.”

Oof, if it’s six it can only get worse when it comes to the symptoms. Get ready to start taking bathroom breaks and getting sick from smells.

“It will still be a few weeks before we can get a paternity test done.” You added on.

“We should do that. Settle this debate early on whose child this is.” Bi-Han was on board with doing a paternity test even though he didn’t know you can test that while still pregnant. It’s that old mindset don’t worry.

“I want to the know the gender first. I wanna see if we are having a baby boy or a baby girl.” Tomas gushed at the idea.

“No you don’t, Tomas! We will not wait to find out the gender first.”

“Yes we will, brother. It will teach you to have some patience. It will also test if you still love her enough to take care of her while she is going through this.”

Kuai Liang was shutting Bi-Han down at every opportunity. How dare his little brother accuse him of not loving you. Fine, he’ll wait. They’ll all wait. And as that goes on they will start preparing things for you like a nursery. They gonna spoil the hell out of you.

A woman who is pregnant is a strong woman indeed. They will make sure to take good care of you. They will do their parts as the possible fathers.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Finally! Week thirteen! You can expect your results to be one hundred percent accurate when it comes to the gender. Now here’s the interesting part—

“WHAT!” You, Tomas, Bi-Han, and Kuai Liang all yelled at the doctor in shock.

…I didn’t get to finish. Let me speak up. Damn…

As I was saying the interesting part was that as time went on you noticed your belly was getting quite big. It was a little too early but you didn’t think it was anything much. This was your first time being pregnant so you thought it was normal.

Not necessarily.

“T-twins? We are having twins? And they are all ours?” Tomas was questioning the doctor on how accurate it was.

The ultrasounds did show two little babies. Two little nuggets growing inside you. And they are both boys, congratudolences!

“It’s called Heteropaternal superfecundation. It’s incredibly rare but it can happen. Especially to someone with three partners.” That doctor was throwing shade at you. She was just jealous.

“So one of those boys is definitely mine,” Tomas was all smiles, “But what about the other one?”

Yeah, what about the other one? Still got the other two. They are blood related so this might be harder.

If it’s Kuai Liang’s this might not end well for him since Bi-Han was staring him down with a death glare. Luckily the doctor had something to say about that.

“That’s the thing, we can’t tell. Because they are related there is some difficulties. So as far as any of you know, they are both the father of that other little boy.”

Kuai Liang is content with that. He is just happy to start a family and have a child with you. Bi-Han…ah he gives up. There is no point in being upset about this. There is nothing anyone can do. He’ll be happy to have a son of his own that he can train and possibly be the next grandmaster to the Lin Kuei.

All the brothers are happy to be fathers to a wonderful set of twins, dizygotic twins to be exact. Tomas is already imagining having the twins play together and teaching them to take care of one another. Kuai Liang is imagining caring for them both and teaching them to be good brother. Bi-Han already preparing in his mind a plan to train his son. That’s his responsibility.

The tension between the brothers dissipated. There was no reason to fight and stress you out even more. Looks like they better get more things ready for the babies. The nursery has to be big enough to accommodate two of them.

You have a good support system going on here. I hope you are happy with your multiple lovers and your set of twins.

…

Oh don’t tell me, you want to know who the father actually is. Alright so the clinic didn’t actually have the advanced technology to figure out who the father was when it came to Kuai Liang and Bi-Han. They were only certain on Tomas.

The true father is…I don’t know. What? Did you think I knew all? No! Even I don’t know. And do you even wanna know? Just let be happy that they are happy. Now get some rest, mama. You have a long journey ahead of you and it’s called motherhood.

After notes: Why do I keep doing twins? I’m scaring myself. Here’s a fact about me I have a high chance of having twins if I were to get pregnant. Yeah, I know, crazy. Please tell me I haven’t manifested this for myself my period still hasn’t come oh gosh 😭. I would have done triplets for this fic but nature doesn’t work like that. Well since I’m done I get to eat. Adiós! (Pls make my period show up y’all)

[angelwheat]

Support w/ pregnant SO...

Support Class ; Pregnant S/O

author's note: this was such a sweet prompt omg

warnings: none | pronouns: she/her

Medic

Medic would have his suspicions that his S/O would be pregnant at a very early stage. Being a doctor, he can very clearly see the early signs. Morning sickness, fatigue, and anything his S/O could deem as just general illness, he'd softly encourage them to take a test. And if it comes back positive, he's over the moon.

For the next 9 months, Medic makes his S/O his one and only priority. He provides them with the proper care, medicine, and anything they need to help them along the way. He'll even put aside work to tend to them, especially in the final weeks. He knows he'll need to be around.

Medic won't generally express this so blatantly, but he has his fears about being a father. He stresses more than he lets on and has had his fair share of sleepless nights, worrying if he'll be a good influence on his child. He keeps it to himself as he doesn't want to worry his S/O, but it slips out on a night he's feeling emotional and vulnerable.

Medic will be so enthusiastic about making preparations for their newborn. He spends so much time and puts in so much thought into making their home and their babies' room absolutely perfect. 9 months can't go any quicker. He's just so eager to meet his son or daughter, and can't wait to spoil them.

Sniper

Unless Sniper and his S/O were trying for a baby, he probably wouldn't suspect anything with regards to early symptoms. Even if it were just mere irritability, or them being overly emotional. He'll of course show his concern, but if his S/O announces that they're pregnant, he might just cry.

He's always dreamed of having a family of his own, but never thought he'd see the day due to his own self doubt. But he pushes all that aside as he only thinks about his S/O for the next 9 months. Work becomes an afterthought as he dotes on his partner, and only them.

He's the most caring at attentive man ever as 9 months go by. He's by your side, comforting you, cradling you, helping you with strenuous tasks. It doesn't bother him in the slightest, in fact, it makes time go by if he keeps busy.

He's a different man during this time. Doting, affectionate, emotional, vulnerable even. Especially at times when he's expressed just how stressed he is about being a father. He's worried he'll get things wrong, but during the 9 months his S/O is pregnant, he's done everything right. Truly, Sniper is eager to meet his newborn child, and absolutely love them to bits.

Spy

Unless it was planned, Spy doesn't know how to react upon hearing the news. He's already got a son. All grown up now, mind you. But he already feels that he failed that chance he had at raising a child. Why would it be different this time around? He smiles and hugs his S/O warmly, but really, he's panicked.

He needs time to himself. Spy knows he seems cold by secluding himself and feels guilty, but he's got many thoughts in his head, and his S/O could probably guess just what's bothering him. Surely enough though, with enough talking it through, Spy is over the moon and makes a promise to be there for his partner and their child.

Spy makes sure his S/O gets the best treatment while she's carrying his child. He almost seems like he's making up for what he missed the first time around. Pampering her and providing her with luxuries, all the while taking over the strenuous tasks.

Spy almost seems like a new man. He's not so cold-hearted, a tad but more emotional, but remains professional for his job. He makes many promises about being there for his S/O and their child. He wants to be a good father, and he'll curse himself if he misses this new opportunity. He makes his family a priority as he gets older, and my god will he spoil his child.

[muiitoloko]

Hello❤️ could you please write some Harry Hart x reader where reader has a deadly illness or something like that and doesn't know how to tell him please❤️

You don't have to though! Don't feel pressured❤️

Title: "Fight for me"

Summary: You fight for him.

Pairing: Harry Hart × Reader

Warnings: Angst, mention of death.

Author's Notes: Thank you kindly for nudging me back into Harry Hart's world! Gotta admit, I've been feeling a bit nostalgic about our old pal Harry. Those first fanfics with him? Whew, they were like the training wheels for my writing journey! But hey, even though I've come a long way, there's always room for improvement, am I right? 📝🚀

As the days passed, you found yourself grappling with the weight of the secret you carried, the knowledge of your impending demise lurking in the shadows of your mind. Deep down, you knew you had to tell Harry eventually. He was your friend, your confidant, someone you trusted with your life. But the fear of how he would react, of the pain it would cause him, held you back.

You and Harry had been through so much together, bonded by the trials and tribulations of life as Kingsman agents. You had faced danger head-on, stared death in the face more times than you could count, but this was different. This was a battle you couldn't fight with fists or gadgets. This was a battle against time, against an enemy you couldn't see or touch.

It had all started on a mission, just like any other. Some evil idiot with grandiose plans of spreading a new type of deadly virus in New York through the water supply. You and Harry were sent in to eliminate the threat, to neutralize the danger before it could spread. And you had succeeded, taking down the man responsible for the virus with precision and skill.

But what you hadn't anticipated was the insidious nature of the virus itself, its ability to infect even the most cautious of agents. Hours after the mission had ended, after the adrenaline had faded and the dust had settled, you received the devastating news. You had contracted the virus, a death sentence lurking in your bloodstream, waiting to claim you.

In the weeks that followed, you tried to carry on as if nothing had changed, as if the specter of death looming over you was nothing more than a distant shadow. You continued to report for duty, to fulfill your obligations as a Kingsman agent, all the while hiding the truth from those closest to you.

Only a select few knew of your condition, the Kingsman doctors who had been tirelessly working to find a cure, along with Arthur and Merlin, your closest allies within the organization. They had sworn to secrecy, to keep your condition hidden from the rest of the world, to spare you the scrutiny and pity that would surely follow if the truth were to come to light.

But despite their best efforts, you couldn't shake the feeling of isolation that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, the fear of facing your fate alone. And so, you continued to push yourself, to throw yourself into your work with a fervor born out of desperation.

Each day brought new challenges, new obstacles to overcome, but you refused to let it break you. You were a Kingsman, damn it, and you would face death with the same courage and determination that had defined you as an agent.

As the days turned into weeks, the black lines on your body began to appear, starting on your stomach and seeming to grow more pronounced with each passing day. Concerned, you made your way to the medical area of Kingsman to find out about it, showing the lines on your belly to Doctor Sarah, one of the organization's trusted physicians.

Dr. Sarah wasted no time assessing the situation, immediately ordering blood tests to better analyze the mysterious phenomenon. As she prepared to draw blood for the tests, she asked if you were experiencing any symptoms. With a sigh, you nodded, feeling a heaviness settle in your chest as you began to roll up the sleeve of your Kingsman suit, revealing your forearm.

"I've been feeling more tired than usual," you admitted, wincing slightly as Doctor Sarah tied a band around your arm to prepare for the needle. "And it seems like everything I put in my stomach is being repelled. I can hardly eat, and even walking has become painful."

Before Doctor Sarah could respond, there was a knock on the door, and Harry entered the room, concern etched on his features. Doctor Sarah scolded him gently for not waiting for someone, but allowed him to come in before she resumed her task of drawing blood.

"Kay, what are you doing here again?" Harry questioned, his voice filled with genuine concern as he focused his attention on you. "This is the third time this week you've been to the medical area."

You ignored his inquiry, your gaze fixed on Doctor Sarah as she finished taking your blood. With a smile, you thanked her and straightened your shirt, grabbing your suit jacket from one of the nearby chairs.

Turning to face Harry, you feigned ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about," you replied, your tone carefully neutral as you made your way towards the door.

But Harry wasn't fooled, his brow furrowing in frustration as he followed closely behind you. "Kay, don't do this," he pleaded, his voice soft but firm. "You're avoiding me, and I don't know why. Please, talk to me."

Feeling Harry's presence at your side, you hesitated for just a moment, the weight of your secret bearing down on you like a leaden cloak. But with a deep breath, you continued on your way, your steps quickening as you made your escape from the medical area.

"I'm not avoiding you, Galahad," you replied, your voice strained with the effort of maintaining your composure. "I've just been... busy the last few days."

But Harry wasn't about to let you off the hook that easily, his determination evident in the way he matched your pace, his eyes boring into yours with unwavering intensity.

"Kay, I know you're hiding something from me," he insisted, his voice soft but firm. "And I'm not going to let it go until you tell me what's going on."

You stopped in your tracks, the weight of Harry's words hitting you like a ton of bricks. With a heavy sigh, you turned to face him, steeling yourself for the confession you were about to make.

"You're right, Harry," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you met his gaze. "I've been hiding something from you for a while now, and... it's time to tell you."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were about to reveal. But he certainly didn't expect what came next.

"I like you, Harry," you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. "I'm... in love with you."

The confession hung heavy in the air between you, the weight of it pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. It wasn't a complete lie - you had harbored feelings for Harry for some time now, feelings you had kept buried deep within your heart for fear of rejection.

But now, faced with the prospect of your own mortality, you couldn't bear to keep the truth hidden any longer. And so, you had made a deliberate choice to reveal your feelings to Harry, knowing that it would provide a plausible explanation for your recent behavior and, more importantly, that it would drive him away.

Harry's eyes widened in shock at your confession, his features frozen in disbelief as he processed your words. For a moment, the silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken emotions and unvoiced fears.

But then, with a sigh, Harry reached out and took your hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Kay," he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of sadness and regret, "I had no idea... I'm sorry."

You shook your head, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Don't be," you replied, your voice tinged with resignation. "I knew you would never feel the same way, Harry. You're a Kingsman through and through, and I... I'm just a friend."

With those words, you pulled away from Harry's touch, your heart heavy with the weight of unrequited love. Turning on your heel, you walked away, leaving Harry standing alone in the hallway, his gaze following your retreating figure with a mixture of regret and longing.

But deep down, you knew it was for the best. You couldn't bear to burden Harry with the knowledge of your impending demise, couldn't bear to watch him suffer as you wasted away before his eyes. And so, you had made a deliberate choice to push him away, to spare him the pain of losing someone he cared about.

As you disappeared around the corner, tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You were a Kingsman, damn it, and you would face your fate with the same courage and determination that had defined you as an agent.

As the weeks passed and your condition worsened, you found yourself confined to your bed at home, the pain in your stomach becoming unbearable. You lay there, feeling weak and helpless, unable to get up or eat anything of substance. The black lines that had started on your stomach now snaked their way up toward your neck, a grim reminder of the disease ravaging your body.

You had been in bed for two weeks now, having left the Kingsman hospital wing after receiving the devastating news that there may not be a cure for you. Unable to bear the pitying looks from those around you, you had made the difficult decision to come home, to spend your final days in the comfort of your own bed.

Merlin called you practically every day, his concern palpable even through the phone. But you couldn't bring yourself to answer, having told him that you would only reach out when you felt that your time was near, so he could take care of your final arrangements.

Alone and in pain, you lay in bed, the weight of your impending death pressing down on you like a leaden cloak. The days stretched on, blending into one another as you drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain in your stomach a constant reminder of your mortality.

But amidst the pain and despair, there were moments of fleeting clarity, moments when you allowed yourself to reflect on the life you had lived. Memories of missions and adventures with Harry and Merlin filled your mind, bringing a bittersweet smile to your lips as you reminisced about the good times you had shared.

But as the days wore on and your strength waned, those moments became few and far between, replaced by a sense of resignation and acceptance. You knew that your time was running out, that soon you would be nothing more than a memory, a footnote in the history of Kingsman.

And so, you lay there, isolated and alone, the black lines creeping ever closer to your neck as you waited for the inevitable end. But even in your darkest moments, you refused to give up hope, clinging to the belief that somehow, someway, you would find peace in the end.

Today was another day like the others. You curled up in bed, the pain in your stomach a constant companion as you ignored the persistent ringing of the doorbell at your house. Whoever it was could leave; you just wanted to be left alone to wallow in your misery.

As the doorbell finally stopped ringing, you let out a sigh of relief, grateful for the temporary reprieve. But just as you began to drift back into the numbing embrace of sleep, there was a knock on your balcony door, startling you out of your reverie.

You sat up, a mixture of irritation and confusion clouding your thoughts as you made your way to the balcony. What the hell was Harry doing there? You opened the door, the cool breeze of the evening washing over you as you faced him, a frown marring your features.

"What are you doing here, Galahad?" you questioned, your voice tinged with annoyance as you met his gaze.

Harry waved a paper in front of your face, his expression a mixture of sadness and anger as he demanded to know why you kept it from him. Confused, you glanced down at the paper, your heart sinking as you realized what it was.

It was an exam paper, a paper from one of your recent medical exams, detailing your morbid condition in stark black and white. You felt a lump form in your throat as you tried to find the words to explain yourself, to make Harry understand why you had kept it from him for so long.

But before you could speak, Harry's voice cut through the silence like a knife, his words laced with pain and betrayal. "Kay, why didn't you tell me?" he demanded, his brown eyes searching yours for any sign of an answer.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat, choked off by the weight of your guilt and shame. You had never seen Harry look so sad, so angry, and it tore at your heartstrings to know that you were the cause of his pain.

"I... I didn't want to burden you, Harry," you finally managed to choke out, your voice thick with anguish as you met his gaze. "I thought it would be easier if you didn't know, if I just... faded away quietly."

But Harry wasn't having any of it, his frustration evident in the way he shook his head, his eyes blazing with emotion. "You idiot," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out and pulled you into a tight embrace. "Do you really think I would have let you face this alone? That I wouldn't have been there for you every step of the way?"

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you buried your face in Harry's chest, his words washing over you like a balm to your wounded soul. In that moment, you realized just how much you had underestimated his love and devotion, how much you had underestimated the strength of your bond as friends and comrades.

"I'm sorry, Harry," you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest as you clung to him like a lifeline. "I'm so sorry for keeping this from you, for shutting you out when I needed you the most."

Harry ignores your excuses and pulls away to look at you, his determination evident in the firm set of his jaw and the steely resolve in his eyes. He promises you that he will find a cure, that he will search the whole world if he has to, to ensure your well-being. But you shake your head, your gaze filled with resignation as you admit the harsh truth.

"There is no cure, Harry," you whisper, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper as you meet his gaze. "The only person who could even produce a cure is the creator of the virus himself. And... I killed him."

Harry's expression softens with understanding, his brow furrowing in concern as he processes your words. For a moment, he is at a loss for words, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air between you.

But before he can respond, you feel a sharp pain rip through your abdomen, doubling you over in agony. Harry's eyes widen in alarm as he rushes to your side, his hands gentle as he helps you to lie down on the bed.

You try to protest, to reassure him that you'll be fine on your own, but Harry scolds you, his voice filled with frustration and concern. "Stop pushing me away, Kay," he insists, his eyes blazing with emotion as he meets your gaze. "Just stop. You don't have to go through this alone."

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak as you meet Harry's gaze. "I'm sorry, Harry," you whisper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "I didn't want to burden you with this. I thought... it would be easier if you didn't know."

But Harry shakes his head, his expression softening as he reaches out to brush a stray tear from your cheek. "How dare you even lie to me like that?" he murmurs, his voice laced with pain and betrayal. "Is that why you said you were in love with me? To keep me away?"

You don't have the strength to protest, to explain yourself, so you let him believe that his confession was nothing more than a lie. Harry continues, his voice filled with regret as he admits his own shortcomings.

"I don't want to lose you, Kay," Harry murmurs, his voice filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. "It hurt when you walked away from me, avoided me for so long. And when you lied and said you loved me... a part of me liked it, knowing this. I don't understand why, Kay. I've never known how to deal with feelings, and so I moved even further away from you, allowed it, thinking you would overcome your feelings for me."

You meet Harry's gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggle to find the right words to respond. "Harry, I..." you begin, but before you can finish, he cuts you off with a gentle touch, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender caress.

"Don't," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "Don't say anything, Kay. Just let me be here for you, please."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you nod, unable to find the strength to argue with him. In that moment, all you can do is surrender to the overwhelming tide of emotions that threatens to consume you, to let Harry's presence wash over you like a soothing balm.

And then, without warning, Harry's lips find yours in a soft, tentative kiss, sending shockwaves of electricity coursing through your veins. It's not the first time you've kissed him - on missions, it's common to pretend to be a couple to maintain cover - but this kiss feels different, somehow. It's filled with a depth of feeling that you've never experienced before, a silent declaration of Harry's love and devotion that transcends words.

For a moment, you're lost in the sweetness of the kiss, the warmth of Harry's embrace enveloping you like a protective cocoon. But as the kiss deepens, passion igniting between you with an intensity that takes your breath away, you can't help but feel a pang of guilt gnawing at the edges of your consciousness.

Harry loves you, he's confessed as much, but you can't bring yourself to believe it. It's just pity talking, you tell yourself, his concern for you clouding his judgment. But as Harry pulls away, his eyes blazing with an emotion that leaves you breathless, you can't deny the truth any longer.

"Kay," he whispers, his voice hoarse with emotion as he cups your face in his hands, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. "I love you, more than anything in this world. Please, let me be here for you. Let me show you how much you mean to me."

You shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks as you try to push him away. "No, Harry," you choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. "You don't love me. It's just pity, I know it is. You're just feeling sorry for me."

But Harry's expression softens, his eyes filling with a tenderness that steals your breath away. "Kay, look at me," he murmurs, his voice gentle but firm. "I love you, with every fiber of my being. And I will do whatever it takes to prove it to you, to show you that you are not alone."

As he protests, his voice filled with desperation and determination, you feel a surge of conflicting emotions washing over you like a tidal wave. On one hand, you want to believe him, to trust in his unwavering resolve to find a cure and save you from the clutches of death. But on the other hand, you can't shake the overwhelming sense of despair that threatens to consume you, the knowledge of your impending demise looming over you like a dark cloud.

But Harry refuses to let you wallow in self-pity, his hands gentle but firm as he holds your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Kay, look at me," he insists, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You can't give up, not now. I refuse to let you surrender to this disease without a fight."

You try to turn away, to avoid his penetrating gaze, but Harry's grip on your face tightens, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that leaves you breathless. "Even if it's too late," you protest, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to find the words to explain yourself. "Even if there's no hope left... I can't keep fighting, Harry. I'm tired, so tired."

But Harry shakes his head, his expression filled with a steely resolve that takes your breath away. "Then let me fight for you," he murmurs, his voice filled with determination. "I swear, Kay, I will find a cure, no matter what it takes. Even if I have to go to hell itself and resurrect that bastard who created this virus, I will not rest until you are safe."

You want to believe him, to trust in his promise to save you from the jaws of death. But deep down, you know that the odds are stacked against you, that the virus coursing through your veins is a formidable enemy that cannot be defeated with mere words and promises.

And yet, as you meet Harry's gaze, the flicker of hope in his eyes reignites something deep within you, a spark of defiance that refuses to be extinguished. "Please, Kay," he pleads, his voice soft but urgent. "Fight, if not for yourself, then for me. Resist, for me. I can't bear to lose you, not like this."

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to find the strength to carry on, to fight against the relentless tide of despair that threatens to drag you under. But as you look into Harry's eyes, filled with a love and devotion that transcends words, you realize that you can't give up, not now, not ever.

With a deep breath, you nod, a silent vow passing between you and Harry in that fleeting moment. "I'll fight," you whisper, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper as you meet his gaze. "For you, Harry. I'll fight until my last breath, if that's what it takes."

And as Harry pulls you into his arms, his embrace a lifeline in the storm of uncertainty that surrounds you, you cling to him like a drowning man clutching at a life raft. In that moment, you know that no matter what the future may hold, as long as you have Harry by your side, you can face anything, even death itself.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Prettier When You're Mine

Dark!Andy Barber x Reader

Author’s Note: Two more chapters on this one

Summary: One year into working with a young, bright and beautiful junior prosecutor, Y/n, who bears an almost uncanny resemblance to Andy’s late wife, Laurie, he finds himself developing feelings for her. Though, when she brushes off his advances, Andy proves that he’ll do whatever it takes to recreate his family.

Disclaimer: 18+ This work contains dark themes, including stalking, dub-con, infidelity and manipulation. Read at your own discretion.

Masterlist Playlist Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Weeks after her visit to Andy's house, Y/n makes an unsettling discovery and Andy reveals an even more sinister truth Warning: mentions of forced sex, mentions of stalking, possessiveness, mentions of pregnancy

Twelve weeks Later

Food poisoning. Stress. A newly developed food intolerance. Some sort of undiagnosed illness. 

Off all the things that could have caused the wave of symptoms she’d been experiencing, two faint, pink lines on a little plastic stick was the last place Y/n figured she’d find her reasoning. Holding the edge of the bathroom counter in a white knuckled grip, she shut her eyes and bent her head. Sniffling softly, she felt a slow, warm trickle down her cheeks and it was a task in itself to quiet her sobs.  

It wasn’t possible- it wasn't supposed to be possible. 

Unless-

“Babe?” A knock on the locked bathroom door made Y/n jump, and hastily wiping at her eyes, she checked her reflection over while emitting a sound of encouragement. “I’m almost ready to leave-”

“Already?” After capping the test and shoving it into the waistband of the back of her pants, she pulled the door open abruptly, causing James- who had been leaning on it- to stumble forward a little. “I didn’t realize it was seven already.”

He glanced at his watch and flashed her a look of concern, “Its actually seven thirty,” reaching out, he cupped the side of her face and she tried to smile, hoping that the sting in her eyes would wait till he’d left. “You’re still sick?” He frowned deeply and then chuckled halfheartedly as he teased, “I thought you were better, you had half a pizza last night.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/n smiled faintly and laid her hand on his forearm, “I’m fine,” she lied. It was hard to keep it together, but the last thing Y/n wanted was to have to explain everything to James when she could hardly make sense of it all herself. “Its just um…my hair is being uncooperative.”

He didn’t look like he believed her, but played along anyway, “Looks great to me,” he bent his head a little too swipe a kiss off her lips. When he pulled away, James searched her eyes and furrowed his brows, “You’re sure that you’re okay?” He moved his hand to slip two fingers under her chin, “Because if you want to stay home, I’ll stay with you or-”

“I’m fine,” Y/n forced herself to smile, “Go to work,” she tiptoed and kissed him again. 

He sighed, “Alright. Alright. And you’re sure you don’t want a ride?” Y/n shook her head in refusal, already deciding that she had other plans and wanting to get out of her current situation as soon as possible. “Okay,” his smile faltered, “Well I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” Y/n blinked quickly, barely holding it together, it was getting harder to lie to him by the second, and all she wanted was a few minutes to break down in peace, “Later.” 

“Love you,” James said softly before kissing her one last time, and with a subtle, unnoticed break in her voice, Y/n returned; 

“Love you too.”

Later that day

Letting out a long, slow breath, Y/n wrung her hands together. She was shaking in her shoes and barely holding it together; it felt like her whole life was falling apart while she’d been reduced to nothing more than a powerless spectator.

She was late to work that morning, having impulsively decided to detour to a local women’s clinic. A free one that time so she wouldn’t have to use insurance or her banking information- the last thing she needed was James finding out about it from anyone but her. It, up to the minute she’d seen the little grainy image on the blueish screen, Y/n had taken to calling the baby in her belly ‘it’. Because it wasn’t possible; it wasn’t supposed to be there. It was going to ruin everything. 

But then she’d seen it and within a second, everything had changed. She fell in love. 

And she was so scared of that love. 

The nurse at the clinic had been alarmed by her very expressive outburst; loud wailing and messy tears. She’d asked if something had happened to put her in that situation, if she needed to see a social worker or wanted a pamphlet on termination. Y/n had refused both. 

“Okay,” Y/n exhaled heavily, touching her lower stomach, “Let’s do this.” 

Another breath. 

Clenching her fist so tight she could feel her nails leaving crescent shaped bruises on her palms, Y/n knocked on the door. She would have just gone in, she wanted to, but Y/n also wanted to prolong her final moments spent in denial. 

“Come in.”

Another breath. A bigger one. 

Turning the knob, Y/n crept inside and shut the door behind herself. Her throat suddenly felt dry and when he looked up from his work, and when he flashed her an unsuspecting, innocent gaze she felt rage boil in her center. They hadn’t talked about what had happened at his house, Andy for one had seemed to have forgotten, making Y/n wonder if he’d been that drunk. 

She’d even started wondering if it had all been a dream because how could he forget when she thought about it everyday? 

“Y/n,” he folded his arms, “You’re-”

Late. For a lot of things. 

“I know,” she cut him off hastily, “We need to talk.”

It might have been her tone, or just the weight of her words, but Andy sat up straighter, relaxing into the back of his chair and knitted his brows. Frowning, he asked, “What is it?” Y/n hesitated, and he though he encouraged her to sit, she remained standing, “Sweetheart if you don’t-”

“Please don’t call me that,” she cut him off hastily, shaking her head, “You have no idea-” Her voice broke with emotion and she sniffled loudly.

"Hey," Andy crooned, standing and crossing the floor to come near her. Though, when he reached to touch her face, Y/n filched, and his jaw tightened in response. With a scoff, he raised his hands in mock surrender and stepped away to lean on the edge of a bureau against the wall while she lingered near the chairs at his desk

Peeved by his reaction but still crippled with anxiety, Y/n whispered, “This is really important.”

“I wouldn’t know, you haven’t told me yet,” he shrugged and she wasn't sure if his disregard was coming from his annoyance with her or just the fact that he seemed to enjoy seeing her vulnerable. When she still didn’t speak, Andy started again, “I want to help you, but-”

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out, refusing to look at him. 

Andy huffed, straightening his back as his grip on the edge of cupboard loosened, “Congratulations.”

Lifting her head, her jaw dropped when she realized his apparent amusement, “No, you don’t understand,” Y/n explained in a panic, “I’m twelve weeks pregnant and....." For a moment, she considered telling him about James' infertility, but Y/n didn't think she wanted him to know that much about her personal life. "It doesn't matter," she shook her head, "You're probably the father." Most likely.

Andy scoffed a chuckle, “I know. How's that for your ten percent?” 

Her lips quivered and Y/n felt like the room was spinning. As heavy breaths threatened to turn into a full on panic attack, she reached for the back of the closest chair for support. “What?”

“I know,” Andy repeated, licking his lips before he stood, slipping his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, “I know...everything. About James; the accident and his……little problem.”

Slapping her hand to her mouth, Y/n emitted a choked sob. “Oh my god,” her words were muffled into her palm, “You knew.” Andy came to stand behind her, laying one hand on her shoulder while the other snaked around to flatten on her stomach. There wasn’t a visible bump there yet, but there was a distinct firmness that she’d only started noticing earlier the last week.

“Don’t touch me,” as a whirlpool of emotions engulfed her, Y/n shoved him off, “How did you know?” 

A car wreck when he was sixteen temporarily left James paralyzed from the waist down and had permanently left him unable to have children. He’d been up front about the whole thing when they’d first started getting serious, and they’d even had a battery of tests run after they’d moved in together, just to be sure. For years, Y/n had promised, him and herself, that she didn’t care that they would never have biological children, and for years, it was true. She was okay with it being just the two of them for the rest of their lives, she was okay with adoption if they ever decided to have children.

But then she’d seen that couple at the doctor’s office and the most intense mixture of jealousy and heartbreak had overwhelmed her to the point of wondering if she actually was okay with never being able to get pregnant, or if she was just going along with it because she loved him. 

“Give a dirty cop three thousand dollars and he’ll show you the world,” Andy taunted, reaching out to touch her face and clicking his tongue when she slapped his hand away, “You don’t have to be upset, I'm giving you what you want.” 

“I didn’t want it like this!” She laid a hand over her stomach protectively, “You can’t do this to me, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Andy stepped forward to box her in, “Have a abortion? I know you don’t want that, else you wouldn’t be here right now. And don't you think for a second that you’re gonna pass my baby off as his.”

“Who’s to say you can stop me from doing either?”

The thought had crossed her mind when she determined that Andy was her baby’s father; she could lie to James and let him think they’d run into a miracle, or she could have an abortion at the women’s clinic and move on with her life. But Andy was right, she wanted that baby and lying to James for the rest of their lives wasn’t something she could bring herself to do. Their relationship had been built on trust and honesty, if they raised that child together and he somehow found out that it wasn’t his, he’d be devastated and everything they had would be ruined. 

And Andy deserved to know that he had a baby out there, at least, that was the fact that Y/n had convinced herself of on the cab ride over to the office. 

In an instant, Andy had her by the neck, holding her against the door. His grip wasn't tight enough to completely cut off her air, but it was firm and hurt. “You won’t,” Andy snarled, letting her throat go in favor of grabbing the the neckline of her blouse and pulling her up to his face, “You get rid of this baby and I will fucking kill you,” he shoved her against the door again, eliciting a frightened gasp, “And you tell him that its his, or try to run away or do whatever that brilliant little mind of yours can come up with and I will hunt you down and kill him with my bare hands. And you will never see this child again.”

“Why are you doing this?” She shuddered, voice quiet and scared. 

He was proving to truly be a monster. To be all the things she’d heard about him; the kind of man that could raise a murderer- because he was capable of being one himself. 

When he let her blouse go, his demeanor shifted completely. With newfound gentleness, Andy's eyes softened and he smoothed his hand over the wrinkles on her blouse. Trailing his fingers down her body he stopped to cradle the front of her hips, thumbs rubbing slow circles in the area a couple inches below her navel. “How can you ask me that?” He frowned, “I’m doing this for you- for our family. I just want our family back.”

A hitched noise contained in her throat followed the return of a thought she’d had back at his house; it was never about her. “I’m not her, I’m not Laurie.”

Andy’s long lashes fluttered as his gaze flitted to meet hers, “You’re not,” he agreed, touching her face gently, “You’re so much better. She was weak and stupid. She killed my baby boy,” he leaned his forehead against hers and while she was scared to the point of her blood running like ice water, Y/n didn't dare move away, “But you’ll protect our baby, I know it. You'll be such a good wife and an even better mother, I knew it from the moment we met.”

“I love my fiancee,” she whimpered. 

“No,” his mood shifted suddenly and Andy grabbed her by the shoulders, holding Y/n to the door, though not violently. “I see the way you look at me. You feel the same way I do,” he pressed urgently, “This is the way its supposed to be.”

“This the way you made it,” Y/n counted fearfully. 

He scoffed, bemused again, “Call it divine intervention.” Though his grip on her shoulders was bruising, Andy used his thumb to trace affectionate circles into the fabric of her coat, "Now,” his tone dropped again, “I’ve told you what happens if you make the wrong decisions. So you’re going to do as I say, and we’re going to fix this, together.”

[scretladyspider]

please don’t scroll; I really need your help to reach my gofundme goal of $3500 and not become homeless.

Im Elle, a queer, ace, disabled person with ADHD, depression, and two cats. In November, I lost my job without warning. I have no savings as the job already had me living to the last dollar of every paycheck. I was denied unemployment and food stamps. I cannot work away from home, a physical job, or something with strict hours due to some yet-to-be-diagnosed illness.

this is my story — what’s going on & how I got here. (Smaller text used because it’s a lot of information/a long post.)

In early 2018, I was doing regular walk/runs. In 2019, I stopped being able to run, so I went on walks. Running took hours, then days, to recover from. My body couldn’t produce energy to do it consistently, so, walks. In 2020, I kept going on walks and tried to do aerobics. I was not able to keep doing aerobics. My body took hours upon hours to recover, where before it hadn’t, I was alone for almost all of 2020, and never developed COVID symptoms; it was what happened with running all over again. In 2021, it started to take more time to recover from walks. Then I started to need to take a nap immediately after I clocked out from work— and it was a work from home job. In 2022, I began to go from my sitting desk job straight to my bed most days, laying down exhausted right after work, even sleeping through lunch to get some rest.

On New Year's Eve 2023, I spent 30 minutes cleaning, including vacuuming my living room. I had to rest the rest of the day.

In the last five years, I've gone from running to being exhausted for hours by taking my garbage to the curb.

Imagine you were someone who enjoyed recreational exercise. Now imagine doing 1/100th of that and feeling sick for days. Thats me.

There are other symptoms also. More vulnerability to infection and more trouble fighting infection. Shooting, sharp muscle pains in large muscles such as the thigh or forearm, like a pinched nerve, that come and go at random. Pulse rate that skyrockets upon standing, to go back to normal soon after. Stomach inflammation. Inflammation without major swelling. Headaches. Complete inability to tolerate heat, leading to excruciating migraines that only go away with things like cold showers, electrolytes, and hours of rest in the dark with ice. Muscles that literally don't feel like they're getting oxygen. Random rashes. Face flushing. Being much more easily out of breath, yawning over and over, like I can't get air correctly. Weight gain, no matter what I eat or don't eat.

And just being so, so tired.

In summer of 2018, something… stopped working in my body. I felt sick all the time. I had a low, unexplainable fever nearly every day. Shooting nerve pain would wake me up at night. The doctor said I had a cold. But months went by and I didn’t get better. When my blood work and thyroid hormone level was normal, I was referred to a rheumatologist.

I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia after he made me wait 45 minutes, came in and asked “are you tired?", poked me hard, said I was tender, and left without running tests. This sort of “uhm the standard blood work came back normal, have you tried exercising more? I know you’re here because your body can’t recover from it but have you tried more of that? Also going to sleep at night?” has been the response over and over and over for five years. It got to the point where I even started to wonder if I was somehow making it up. I see a psych nurse. She thinks there's more than just depression, ADHD, and other things - though we both agree that managing those is vital too. She used to be a cardiologist, so this is reassuring. But when I have tried to see other doctors, it goes differently. Most of the time they see I have ADHD, a long history of depression, and hypermobile joints, and say that explains everything. I can't count how many times I've been told "well, you have depression” when the labs, if they even agreed to run them, came back normal. My standard blood work sometimes comes back with anemia, but I take an iron supplement. No improvement had come of it. I’ve had my thyroid hormone levels tested over and over, but never the antibodies. No imaging or referrals have happened, outside of one to a second rheumatologist. He ran no tests either; he just saw my joints are hypermobile and I was “sure taking a lot of mental health medications” (two at the time), and… that was that.

I had given up on actually even getting help until my SIL recommended a doctor she knew. For the first time in five years, when the standard blood work and TSH tests were normal, she told me we would keep looking. I actually cried with relief at that. It’s amazing to be believed after all this time.

Because of …. All of this, I'm trying to figure out how to either work for myself or find a work from home job that has flexible hours I can choose. I literally wouldn't be able to work a retail gig where I have to stand for eight hours, or even a 9-5 where I have to be there for those exact hours, because my body cannot do that right now. I want to get better but it's a long way off. First I need to know what's even wrong. I'm praying for a diagnosis soon. And treatment. At the least, management.

I have heard of EDS and I have been evaluated. I apparently don’t meet enough criteria, hence the diagnosis of JHS instead. It’s in the same family. I have also heard of POTS. I am pursuing testing. Same with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, MCAS, fibromyalgia… yeah. The thing is nothing outside of the standard blood count and thyroid hormone level test, no other lab tests have been done. There are so many things this could be that have never been checked. Lyme disease, for example, is extremely common where I live (it’s actually just extremely common worldwide) and matches much of my experience, but 1) in the USA the initial Lyme test relies on a strain of bacteria cultured in the 80s 2) there are over 100 strains of Lyme disease in the USA 3) in spite of decades of research there are doctors who don’t believe chronic Lyme exists 4) no doctor has ever checked and I only recently learned anything about it so I never asked. But… there are a lot of things to check that I’ve never had checked is my point. Fingers crossed someone can help me get there.

I do not have a partner who can try to support me through this, and my family already supports me however they can. My severance (which was low as I found out I was being paid much less than the rest of the team later) paid only my January rent.

Since my ability to work is severely limited right now, and I've been denied unemployment and food stamps, and I would need a diagnosis and to be awarded disability benefits in court (which can take YEARS that I don’t have), I have nothing in savings because of years of underpaying jobs the cost of living and being disabled and going through prior periods of unemployment due to this and other factors, I am left in a tough spot without help. Without this help, this gofundme... I have nothing.

So... here I am. A queer nonbinary disabled neurodivergent writer, trying my best, living with some undiagnosed illness that's severely impacted my ability to function, who got fired without real reasons (in America they can just do that to you without even telling you why), asking for your help to pay my February rent and January bills so I don’t repeat the trauma of being homeless. Or for you to reblog this.

Thank you for reading all of this.

It’s been on my chest for a long time. Even if it wasn’t for the gofundme, it feels good to talk about and be honest about my health. It reminds me you’re not supposed to feel like this all the time when I tell other people and they tell me I should get help and deserve answers. It’s reassuring to see competent doctors who finally believe me. I hope we figure it out.

no donation is too small— they add up. If just 100 people gave $35, the goal would be met. Sharing is also giving— it means someone who can help is more likely to see it.

You can also help via my venmo — secretladyspider

CashApp — secretladyspider

or find PayPal in my tip jar in my linktree

Goal is $3500 or over. Funds needed ASAP. If it goes over, that’ll help with February.

Thank you for anything and everything.

[erimeows]

Burnt Out

Working at Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital is brutal, to say the least. As the head of the cardiology department and a member of Gregory House’s diagnostic team, your job is not only hectic but also underappreciated. You spend most of your days cycling between helping your patients, helping your coworker’s patients, pouring over paperwork, being scolded by Cuddy, and being shat on by House, who insists that you stay on his team while constantly dismissing your ideas and implying that you’re an idiot like he does with damn-near everyone else he works with.

So, yeah. Life is great.

Currently, you’re sitting in the diagnostics conference room at the corner of the table. Chase, Cameron, Foreman, and Wilson are also sitting with you. Meanwhile, House is standing at the whiteboard, bouncing his tennis ball with one hand and using the other to write down your most recent patient’s symptoms.

“Eleven year old caucasian female, admitted two days ago after falling unconscious during her first ever track meet. Her family’s medical history is totally clean from what we can tell and she’s had no problems prior to this, though they seem to be way behind on taking her and themselves to the doctor for regular visits. However, since being admitted, she’s only displayed more symptoms and seems to be getting worse,” House explains, seemingly unenthused. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already figured it out. He likes to do that- to pretend that he has no idea what the patient’s affliction is and then rag on everyone else for not being able to figure it out. “So far, we’re dealing with high blood pressure, a one hundred one degree fever that refuses to break, hives, bloodshot eyes, and swelling across her entire body.”

“Rheumatoid arthritis?” Cameron suggests, eager to be the first one to get at the new case. “I know she’s young, but she could’ve developed it early and had it go undiagnosed.”

“Before we start discussing the possibility of chronic diseases, shouldn’t we test for strep and scarlet fever?” Chase questions. “If her parents are so bad about getting her medical care, it could have just been a minor illness that’s developed into this.”

“What about you two? (y/n), Foreman?” House pipes up, calling the two of you out since you’ve been totally silent since he started. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t do the same to Wilson, who hasn’t said anything either. “Nothing to say?”

Foreman shrugs.

“This isn’t my ballpark. I’ll let you figure it out, House. I’m sure you’re just playing with us anyway. Compared to the last few cases, this seems like child’s play.”

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, House turns to you.

“And you?”

“Kawasaki disease? She has some of the symptoms,” You half-heartedly answer.

“Just because you’re a cardiologist doesn’t mean that every patient that comes through these doors has a heart disease, you know,” House scoffs with a roll of his icy blue eyes. “And she only has some of the symptoms for that. She doesn’t fit into the main demographic for it either. That’s the worst answer I’ve gotten out of you for a case all month. Are you even trying anymore?”

When House first hired you, you were excited- always trying your best and working after your already long hours to solve cases. As the years have gone by, though, you’ve lost your enthusiasm and frequently find yourself dreading the mornings where you and House’s paths have to collide. You know he’s only so cruel because he has problems of his own and because he has a motive (just like he has a motive for every other crazy thing he likes to do), but the fact that he picks on you so often when all you’re doing is trying your best gets under your skin.

A couple years ago, you might’ve tried to argue back with him. Now, all you can do is avert your eyes and stare at the table as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. You’re praying for a hole to just appear underneath you and suck you into the vacuum of space- or at least for everyone to continue chatting until the embarrassing situation is long forgotten- but instead, Cameron pipes up to defend you. 

“Dr. House, was that really unnecessary? They’re trying their best and you’re being needlessly cruel.”

“What, are you jealous that I’m paying more attention to them than I am to you?” House snarks back at her. You hold your head in your hands and sigh. “Because next time, I can include you, too. Now do any of you have any better ideas than the crap you’ve just given me or am I going to be handling this case by myself?”

With that, the meeting continues. House ends up deciding that he’s going to order labs to see if the patient has strep or scarlet fever before doing anything else, leaving you to finish out your work day. 

You rush out of the office the moment he dismisses you all. Cameron tries to catch up to you to ask if you’re okay, but much to your relief, Chase stops her and tells her that you probably just need your space. You rush to your office, shut the door, sit down in your chair, and- for the first time in a long time- bawl your eyes out. 

House being a dick to you is typical, but on top of everything else that you have to deal with at your job, it pushes you over the edge. With the ungrateful patients, admin, and coworkers, the long hours, the physically and mentally draining work, and all of the drama that happens in the hospital, it’s almost impossible to keep going. The only thing- or, person- that makes it somewhat worth the turmoil is your partner, James Wilson, who you’ve been dating for some months now.

He’s a great comfort to you, and he’s always kind, unlike a lot of the people you find yourself surrounded by at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Your relationship is surprisingly healthy despite the amount of problems between the two of you. You don’t want to miss out on more time with him than you already do, though, so you find it hard to quit or even ask to be moved off of the diagnostics team. 

Conflicted and tired, you bury your head in your arms and cry even harder, glad that the walls are soundproof until you hear the sound of your doorknob turning.

And that’s when you realize that you forgot to lock the door.

You pop your head up, tears still covering your cheeks and welling up in your eyes. You probably look like shit and your partner has just walked in to see said display.

There, right in front of you, in the entryway of your office, stands James Wilson, looking at you like a deer caught in the headlights. The worst part is that you’re sure you’re looking at him the same way. The happy expression he walked in with has fallen completely.

“Did I come at a bad time?” He tentatively asks.

“No, sorry,” You answer and rush to wipe your tears away. You try to make yourself look presentable, probably to no avail considering the look of disbelief that James shoots your way. “What do you need?”

“Are you sure? I can leave if you want-” James starts and steps back towards the door.

“Don’t,” You interject, shaking your head. “Please. I know we’re at work right now, but…”

James sighs, then shuts and locks the door behind you. He quickly approaches your desk and sits on the edge of it, facing you.

“House really got to you today, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, I guess he did,” You shrug. “I don’t even know what to do about it anymore, James… I’m considering just quitting and going somewhere else. I feel so burnt out. It’s not even just House, it’s everything else, too. He’s the least of it.”

James nods.

“...I understand.”

“Do you really?”

“Well, maybe not in the exact same way. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice that House is a little less harsh on me than he is on the rest of you, but him and I have been friends for a long time. He knows what I’m capable of. The only reason he pushes your buttons so much is because he’s testing to see what your limits are. In a weird sort of way, he’s trying to get to know you,” James explains, though both of you know that isn’t much of a comfort to you. “I’m sure things have been difficult for you lately. You do a lot, and it goes unappreciated, but I promise you that you’re doing a good job and that there are people who appreciate what you do.”

At that, you smile. You don’t feel completely better, but the weight on your shoulders does feel a little lighter.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“I love you,” James says.

“I love you too.”

Hours pass. You work on paperwork while James responds to patient emails for you. The two of you knock out most of what’s been piling up on your end, much to your relief. You try not to think about the fact that James has probably neglected a lot of his day’s duties to help you out with this. 

“Should we head out?” You ask, looking at the clock.

“Probably… It is getting pretty late.”

Just then, the doorknob turns, only to go back since James had locked it just moments before. A second later, you hear obnoxiously loud knocking. Wilson goes to open it. Standing there is House, who’s holding a stack of papers.

“All the other tests came back negative. You were right,” House admits, looking straight at you. “It’s Kawasaki disease. Good job.”

Then, as fast as he came by your office, House leaves, just as elusive as ever- and all you and James can do is laugh.

[talkethtothehandeth]

“Doctor shopping.” Let’s talk about her.

If you’re disabled you’ve probably heard of this before— if you haven’t, or you’re just unfamiliar in general, or an ableist who says this shit, let’s talk about it <3 because the definition has been overtaken and pissed on by more ableist bitches than the ones who demonized addiction within the medical field and caused this term to exist.

So, “doctor shopping” is actually originated from the people who oversee healthcare, which includes any non medical professionals who are involved in the process as well, like big pharma. It’s been defined (in medical related research journals, not just on social media/ the internet), as “a patient consultation with multiple physicians in a short time frame with the explicit intent to deceive them in order to obtain controlled substances.”

However, you hear in the community, from ableist ableds or even ableist disabled people who are like fucking rabid and frothing at the mouth, gnashing their teeth while flipping over the tiniest of pebbles to find “fakers”, (which is usually an AFAB person with multiple conditions that are followed by a slew of symptoms ranging in prevalence and severity, or someone that doesn’t “seem disabled” who becomes a target). So they call it “doctor shopping” when they see chronically ill or disabled people continue to advocate for themselves by going to countless appointments to try to find out what is causing their health to decline. They (ableists) think that by changing providers or continuing to pursue a diagnosis between multiple providers constitutes doctor shopping. It isn’t our desire, and it’s absolutely exhausting and painful when you’re left with no answers.

If I had not gone to the ER multiple times within two months, I would have died. The fluids kept me alive, and the medicine helped. My mom was preparing my dad for my death, and my fiancée was petrified of losing me because my condition continued to declined. But the entire time I was there, I was terrified of asking for medicine because I didn’t want to be labeled a drug seeker, especially because I’ve been open (for my safety) about using marijuana products. I was crying from how bad it was, my blood pressure was in stage two hypertension from the stress on my body.

They said it was, “nothing to worry about” when I saw my nutrition levels were low. My doctor wants a comprehensive metabolic panel because it is something to worry about because my symptoms were severe. And I had to see another doctor, but that facility ignored me for two months while my pcp and I tried working it out with them. They fucked around with my health for two fucking months. So I had to find a different person, and when I went to her she ordered a procedure, which meant a different facility, which means, yet again a different provider. I even had to go to a different hospital at one point for more tests.

Believe me, we don’t want to go to all of these appointments or see all of these doctors because, half of the time, even though there is something wrong with us, they don’t listen. We don’t want to go back and forth and get more medical trauma just for fun or for a silly little made up diagnosis competition bullshit.

People don’t change their doctors because they want to collect diagnoses like Pokémon, people do it because they want to live comfortably, or at the very least suffer less by finding some sort of direction to move towards to better their own health. I was literally preparing to die from medical neglect, because I did my absolute best and still, to this day, don’t have answers. If I hadn’t sought out more providers, I probably wouldn’t have been able to write this post. I’d be dead already.

This desperate desire to cherry pick what someone shares on the internet about their health and literally fucking stalk people on their social media accounts while looking for any sign that someone could potentially be faking their symptoms is, unfortunately, accepted due to disabled people hating themselves, and ableds hating disabled people. It’s that simple, in my mind.

Other peoples’ bodies, disabilities or symptoms are none of your fucking business, and, yes, this includes the things we decide to share. Disabled people share what we want to, and we live in our bodies 24/7. And some of you really need to sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up about how disabled people manage their health care.

I’m not saying there aren’t people who fake conditions, but I am saying that it’s far less than what you choose to believe. You say you want to protect “actually” disabled people by weeding out fakers, when all you’re doing is harming actually disabled people by playing Sick Olympics™️ and accusing them of faking when they’re just trying to seek out life saving treatment— which includes seeing multiple providers to dig deeper for a diagnosis, no matter how rare or outlandish you think it is. You don’t get a medal for harassing disabled people, you’re just a piece of shit.

[houseofbrat]

Well, isn't that convenient?

[archive link]

Princess Kate is eyeing up her next public appearance, as she’s keen to head to Paris to watch some of the 2024 Olympic Games. The Princess of Wales has made two major appearances since her shock cancer diagnosis at the start of the year, stepping out at Trooping the Colour in June and the Men’s Singles Final at Wimbledon a month later. Kensington Palace has not set a date for her to return to royal duties, as Kate revealed in June that while she continues to undergo chemotherapy she has “good days and bad days”. But she wants to make the most of feeling well and endeavours to attend events over the coming months if she feels able to. One such event is attending the Paris 2024 Olympic Games, as a source close to the princess reveals she is keen to travel across the Channel to watch some of the action. “The Princess would love to go to the Olympics," they said. "She has such fond memories of London 2012 and is keen to go to another Games while it's so close to home.” The newly-wed couple were regular faces at the home Games, as they were jubilant when Chris Hoy secured his sixth Olympic gold at the velodrome and also enjoyed watching the tennis, hockey, swimming, athletics, gymnastics and football. But the insider was keen to stress that no decision has yet been made as Kate’s attendance is conditional on her health and whether her doctors give her the go-ahead. This mirrors the approach taken when the Princess attended the Wimbledon men’s final last month, as aides only confirmed her appearance the day before. Prince William is expected to travel to France to watch some of the Games next week, and as his children are currently enjoying their summer holidays its likely that their two eldest, Prince George, 11, and Princess Charlotte, nine, will join him.

Yes, it's not confirmed at this point (02 August 2024) that Kate will attend the Olympics, and, yes, this is published by a UK tabloid. However, the effects are just the same.

It doesn't matter if it doesn't pan out, and she doesn't attend. The perception of her right now is that she would do something like this, even though she is allegedly being treated for cancer.

Did you know that there is a subreddit called "KateMiddletonMissing"? It has 7,400 members currently, which is undoubtedly a larger number than the surviving Wales "fandom" on tumblr. Numbers that will likely increase over the coming weeks and months while Kate hides from the public. There is a thread discussing this rumor of Kate attending the Paris Olympics, and people aren't buying what Kensington Palace and Kate are selling, even if she has no actual plans to attend.

And what is the top comment in this thread?

"I don’t believe she ever had cancer"

That's the top comment. That's the perception of Kate among people who follow British royals enough to join a subreddit but are not blind followers of the drivel coming out of the Kensington Palace comms team.

And take photos of all the family frolicking on the beach jumping 8 foot over spiky plants. But too ill to partake in any cancer charity work. Hmm 🤔

I'm kind of hoping the French play Gojira's song about Marie Antoinette on the big screen while Kate and/or William is at the Olympics. They're really shameless to claim abdominal surgery in January to skip work until Easter, but then changed it to cancer when things got heated. Now they're playing the cancer card, cherry-picking glamour events, and putting it down as 'work'. Instead of helping cancer patients and creating awareness about testing and getting symptoms checked, Kate has only showed up at the Trooping, the Wimbledon men's final, and now possibly another men's tennis match featuring Andy Murray. These are not decent people.

She's crap like the rest of them. You'll never convince me she ever had cancer.

This is absolutely bonkers. No one cares about the optics of this, which is wild to me. Is the, "They're Diana's boys, such a tragedy," well of sympathy and sycophants ever going to run dry??? Kate being adjacent to this and a direct recipient of it.

Watching tennis on the royal box, sunbathing in mustique and not giving a ficking damn about not working for anything is a well known treatment for cancer.

My opinion only. Kate is totally complicit in all of this. I don't see how she's under duress or in any way being forced to tell the world she has/had cancer. She shows up at two major events looking fully healthy and smiling. Quite a contrast from the "bench video" where she looked pale and spoke in a somber tone. I believe that was also the one and only time that she has said anything about others having cancer. It just doesn't look good at all and seems disrespectful to those struggling with cancer.

Even in the much larger RoyalsGossip subreddit, which forbids any speculation on Kate's "health condition," has comments in disbelief about Kate's "cancer diagnosis."

Impressive that her medical team is okay with her attending crowded sporting events during treatment but recording a short Zoom video for a patronage is too much to handle

And especially now that there’s a spike in Covid cases. I know sick people who are not allowed to go to crowded places.

Interesting that's she is well enough to travel to Paris but not to do zoom calls eith her patronages? Or support her charitable endeavors? What about the First Five Years?

They don't call her "Duchess Do Little" for nothing

So she still can’t do any real work but can attend men’s sporting events. We see you Kate

It's really only the Wales fandom who buys the "health condition" excuse about Kate coming out of Kensington Palace.

Oh, yes Charles and Camilla "are wearing down the monarchy." LOL!

Charles and Camilla are doing their actual jobs while William is on vacation all the time.

Just more proof that the Wales fandom lives in their own Disney-esque Puritan bubble where Charles & Camilla are terrible because their first marriages didn't work out. Except even Camilla has done more work than William ever has as a working royal.

Except actual Brits (instead of fawning twenty-somethings in Latin America) believe William is the one "wearing down the monarchy."

Because more and more people are not buying the story Will & Kate have been telling people about themselves.

Most people with functioning brains outside the Wales fandom can see through Will & Kate's problematic behavior.

Looks like the shit is going to hit the fan regarding Will & Kate's reputations later this month.

Can't wait.

[tavyliasin]

Disability Pride Essays - Karlach and Terminal Illness

So to start the Disability Pride Month essays, I’m going to open with one of the heaviest topics of all - terminal illness. So, please be warned this discussion will include topics around euthanasia and will to live, such as they are reflected in Karlach’s story. I will also be mentioning a few terminal illnesses and their treatments by name. There is additionally some NSFW content in the discussion of how Karlach’s early game romance can relate to sex and intimacy for those with chronic conditions. So with this in mind, if you’re not in the right place to read this right now, please do feel free to skip it entirely. These topics are heavy and may be a lot to read for someone who has a connection to them. It is also not suitable for those under 18.

What Is Karlach’s Disability?

Karlach is one of the clearest examples of a disability parallel to me, and also one of the most complex. Of course there are choices in her story that affect the outcome, but those are strikingly similar to the choices people often make with real chronic, degenerative, and terminal illness. On the surface level, Karlach has a heart problem. Although it might not prevent her from performing a lot of day to day tasks (she can walk, run, and even fight just fine for the most part) the condition can still flare up causing her short periods of intense physical and psychological distress. We can also interpret some of this as being similar to mental health symptoms in which emotions are felt to a greater intensity and most people might experience them.

The other issue Karlach has in day-to-day life is around intimacy. Of course there aren’t really people who catch fire just for being close to someone they like, or who are literally too hot to touch, but there are those who find touch too painful. Those who, much as they might like to, can’t enjoy an intimate physical relationship due to pain. 

How Do We See The Disability In The Game?

We see a longer progression with Karlach, and this reflects a lot of what we have in the real world with these situations. First she experiences the symptoms, then learns about them from Dammon who offers a temporary treatment to relieve some of it. Which is similar to a medical treatment, one that helps some of the symptoms but isn’t a cure. It buys time, but we know that her heart isn’t fully fixed, that she still can’t do everything she wants to. There are moments we see her emotions take over, or the physical aspects of the condition “flare up” as she struggles with it. Moving in to Act 2, we see another treatment, another sliver of hope, but it’s one that comes at a cost. We know that it will help her for now, the short term hope and joy that Karlach can actually enjoy intimacy and touch, but…it arrives with the knowledge that long term, there is no guaranteed cure. By Act 3, she is learning to live with it, finding more control over some of the outbursts (for example, she will hold off from attacking Gortash at the first meeting even though she’s clearly feeling a lot of intense emotions in that moment, compared to not holding back in the fight with the false paladins in Act 1.

How Does This Reflect Real Life

Really what we are seeing here is similar to a terminal illness like cancer, and other degenerative conditions that have a variable outcome. Treatments like chemotherapy or radiotherapy for some can offer hope at first, a test to see if it can treat the illness, often even with some initial positive results. At the very least, these can slow down the progression and buy time - much like the initial heart upgrades buy more time for Karlach. 

Karlach, Sex, and Intimacy

We can take a closer look just at the intimacy side for a moment too, and how it’s handled within the game. Karlach’s early romance scene, it’s not safe for her to be intimate with a partner, much as she might want to, it would hurt them. One more direct real world parallel for this could be a condition called vaginismus, which can make vaginal penetration too painful for a sufferer to endure, and mean they are unable to enjoy a lot of sex acts. Similar to Karlach’s scene, some might look to different forms of intimacy with a partner like talking about fantasies, or other lighter and different types of partnered sexual pleasure. There are treatments for it, but they take time and patience, and might not be suitable for everyone. There are also, of course, conditions that can make sex acts painful or impossible for those with penises too - so again looking at these other forms of intimacy like sharing fantasies in conversation can be validating to see for people who aren’t able to (or even who simply don’t wish to) engage in a physical sexual relationship with a partner (or partners). There are plenty of disabilities that change how we approach sex and sexual intimacy, which in my opinion can make these scenes more impactful to those who might relate or may not have thought about this as an option in the past.

The Hardest Choices

The ending of Karlach’s storyline really is the most heartbreaking turning point. It’s a crossroads that many reach - a difficult decision between keeping on fighting a much harder battle like Karlach does if she goes to Avernus, not knowing if she will win, or choosing to stop fighting on their own terms. Karlach’s speech on the docks, and even several times she talks before that, really echoes some of the intense feelings and experiences of terminal illness. It’s a constant fight, and choosing to keep going - to keep hoping for a cure that might never come, to buy time - is to lose a lot of quality of life too. Because you can’t just take a day off from intensive treatments (or in her case, from fighting for her life in the hells), and although there are good things worth fighting for, and still some positives within it like the friends or partner who might travel with her to Avernus, sometimes…sometimes for people they don’t feel it’s worth it. They would rather choose a peaceful end, to lay down their sword and stop fighting, instead of continuing to struggle against the tide. Just like for the other characters - and for us as the players - this can be really hard for loved ones to accept. But at the end of the day it is the choice of the sufferer as to what they’re willing to endure. We can’t - and shouldn’t - force anyone to go through more than they genuinely want to. Of course they often want to live, and it is never an easy choice for a patient or for their family to know their time is coming to an end sooner than we would like, but the best we can do is to be there for them. To accept that living isn't quite so easy, that there is a balance to be struck and a toll to be paid. To listen, to make sure they aren’t there alone “on the docks” even if it’s hard. 

What We Can Learn From Karlach’s Story

The main takeaway here is that terminal illness is going to affect people in all kinds of ways that might be unpredictable. They might act in ways that seem irrational to us, they might fall to despair or they might continue to hope and be an upbeat influence trying to support their loved ones. Often, it’s a mix of things. Our role as people who love them is to give them the space to talk, to be heard, and to respect their decisions even if it’s hard on us.

There will often be a choice to be made between quality of life and quantity of life, and much as everyone’s usual instinct is to live as long and as much as they can, it isn’t fair to expect someone to endure an endless battle that might have nothing at the end other than an even less kind passing. We can also be more aware of different kinds of intimacy with partners who have difficulty with physical sex acts, and find the things that might be enjoyable instead. So perhaps next time you’re playing through the game, take a moment to listen closer to the lines between the lines, hear the echoes of real world voices from the heartfelt and impassioned speeches we hear from this complex and beloved character.

With Thanks

I’m going to round this one off with my deepest gratitude to Larian Studios for the wonderful writing and production in the game, and to Sam too for their absolutely unforgettable performance as Karlach. I have seen several people in my life go through stages of terminal illnesses, as well as others fighting their "battles through Avernus" with hope in their hearts. Whether it was intentional or not, I feel like Karlach’s story is a truly beautiful and heartfelt mirror to these experiences, as we see her struggle with everything it means and all the decisions to be made along the way.

My love, as always, goes out to all of you who have been affected by chronic and terminal illness, whether in yourselves or in those around you.