#taking the appointment would probably would have been better in the long term

[kubo-kubo]

rant incoming

[kremlin]

"This event ends the moment you write us a check, and it better not bounce, or you're a dead motherfucker" -- Big Bill Hell

There was a time when you'd see little old ladies paying for the groceries with a hand-written personal check, holding up the line, causing an immediately-forgiven slight sense of annoyance with those behind her. Buddy. Those days are over. They've been over. What, did you think you were going to just pop a couple extra zeroes on the end of your paycheck there? Maybe scan your paycheck, open it in photoshop, make a template, print em out all nice? You think you're the first to think of that, dipshit?

It takes the law a long time to catch up with the state of the art. You're reading this on the internet, which means you never use checks. The law has caught up. Your ass will be going to prison immediately and you will see zero return.

You can't even kite checks anymore, and hell, nobody under 40 will even know what that means, due to the blazing fast, two day settlement on all ACH transactions. Let me paint you a picture.

You get paid on Friday, but it is Monday, and bills are due on Tuesday. And you're broke: $0 in the bank. Goose egg. Pop open your checkbook, go to a store, "buy" some things, write a check for the amount. The cashier takes it!

Now take those things you "bought", across town, to another store location, and return them for cold hard cash. Sweet. Bills paid. Friday rolls around, and you just make it to the bank to deposit your paycheck before it closes. After the weekend, the checks you wrote finally post, and they don't bounce! You've kited a check. You've surreptitiously taken a zero-interest loan. And we know your broke ass. The interest rate on that short-term payday loan should have been straight up usurious. We're talking 29%. That makes predatory fuckers like us horny for sex. We're so mad. Now you are going to Federal Prison. For a good minute. Fuckface.

COST: $0.10 (With banks offering free checking accounts + Bic pen)

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor sleet, if you fuck with the mail, we'll rip your nuts off" -- Ronald Mail (Inventor of Mail)

Many people have this misnomer that the most powerful people in politics are democratically elected. The president, of the United States, of America, is a stupid cartoon hotdog. All of them, I don't care. Way less clout than you'd think. Brilliantly, it is the people that the hotdog president appoints who are actually doing anything significant. The director of the CIA. The fucking chairman of the Federal Reserve. Probably the, like, most senior, uh, general of the military, and shit too. I don't know, we don't "do" army here at Bloomberg. You probably don't even know their names! I don't! These are the ones you should be seeing in your sleep.

There's another position like that. Appointed directly by the hotdog. The Postmaster General. That's a real title. He's the CEO of the mail, and buddy, what he may lack in political power relative to the director of the CEO, he makes up in raw sexual energy. Total Tom Selleck energy. Like an airline pilot. We're talking Donald Sutherland in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I'm tentpoling in my black business slacks just writing this, and all my Bloomberg newsroom bros are peering over my shoulder and also tent-poling. We're not gay though, and especially me, I'm probably the least gay, but sometimes I just lay awake for hours at night what that mustache would feel like pressed against my lips, the unbelievable and utter, total sense of security I'd feel burying my head into his hard chest.

You get it. He's your dad. And if you fuck with the mail, you've fucked with the tools in your dad's garage. And dad's been drinking. You're in for it, bucko, you are in trouble. Do you think the United States Postal Service actually makes any money? Hell no. It costs like five bucks to mail a box basically anywhere I can think of and they give you the boxes for free. You can just walk in the post office and take them. I do that, and then just throw them away, I don't know why, some kind of compulsion. Being able to move shit around like this, quickly, cheaply -- Jesus H, I've got a huge amount of money in my bank account, probably tens of trillions of dollars (due to financial knowledge gained from reading Bloomberg articles) and I could probably mail every single person ever something and still come out in the black.

No way pal. They've thought of that already. The Postmaster General is going to know every time, and he's going to grab you by the shirt collar, wearing his cool as fuck hat, and you're going to get your pants pulled down, and your bare ass spanke...I need to go use the restroom real quick.

We rely on the mail system to get important shit done. It's not something to be taken lightly, and it isn't. Trust me. This is why, like almost every other person who receives mail in this year 2023, I just fucking put a wastebasket under my mail slot. I don't even shred that shit anymore. I just burn it. Takes less time.

COST: $0.63 (Postal stamp)

"Can call all you want, but there's no one home // And you're not gonna reach my telephone // Out in the club, and I'm sipping that bubb // And you're not gonna reach my telephone" -- Lady Gaga

I read something wild that the children of today do not know what a dial tone is, because of how fucked up and stupid they are. Isn't that super fucked up?

While it's not really our style, allow me to fill you in on some ancient, arcane knowledge about the telephone. You can turn it on, and then you can punch in numbers. Any numbers. Random ones, or maybe not random ones. If the ten numbers you punch in are the same as the numbers in someone else's telephone number, their phone will ring, and then you are talking to them. This is called "Phreaking".

Here's the kicker: You can tell that jackass anything you want. "Oh, Hi, Yes, I am Reginald Sumpter calling from Avalon Consulting LLC, we are just following up on the invoice we sent you. Please remit to ###### routing ###### account."

BOOM! Your name isn't Reginald whatever and that company doesn't exist, but you just received a deposit. It's fucking beautiful. What have you done wrong? It isn't your responsibility to handle who your business' clients/etc are, it's their's. If they want to just pay you money for no real reason, well, that's kind of on them, isn't it? I haven't stuck a pistol in your face and demanded everything in the register.

Well, it's too clever. It's too slick. This is the United States of America. It's one thing to commit a felony like armed robbery, it's another thing to piss off someone in charge of the accounting division who uses a special bathroom you need a key to get into.

You can do it on the computer too, I use a PC Computer at work and send email, so you can see how it'd work there. You can make a document that is indifferentiable from a real invoice and, straight up, 1/3 of the time they will pay that shit. Lmfao.

It's called wire fraud because, uhh, duhhhh, there's wires. What do you think that thing is strung between the telephone receiver and the dialer? And computers? Give me a break. There's so many wires with those.

COST: $0.25 (Coin for payphone)

"People calculate too much and think too little." -- Charlie Munger

It is insane how dumb the common man can be when it comes to our world of expertise. I hear this same sentiment, like, ALL THE TIME:

"Durr hurr I will buy an insurance policy for my car or house or whatever so that in case something happens to it I will get money". And then that same person proceeds to drive safely or not burn their house down. Dumbest crap imaginable.

Let me break it down for you. Insurance is a two player competitive game. There is a winner and there is a loser. Go take out an expensive insurance policy on your American sports car. Buy a neck brace, a football helmet, and pack that bitch with throw pillows. Then get in the left lane of a major highway at like noonish, let it rip and then SLAM on your brakes. Hit from behind! Your fault! Congratulations. You have won insurance. How this gets past people is beyond me.

You can only do this once or twice before the insurance companies catch on. Then they don't want to fuck with you. It is also..I don't know man...something feels off about taking a car or a house, which like, some guy had to build and just destroying it, but that is only a weird emotional thing, since you're making money, more than whatever the destroyed thing is worth, so in reality you've built that house plus some extra. You've contributed.

COST: $106.00 (Average monthly car insurance payment)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

SUBSCRIBE TO MY WHATEVER FOR PART TWO, COMING SOON. i'll post it later today probably. whatever time frame will juice the numbers. have a sneaky peaky

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[vampyrixdarling]

hello! I love your fics they are amazingggggg, anyways I was hoping it would be okay if we got some headcannons of shadow with a s/o that has ptsd. It would mean a lot to me personally, and i honestly am scared to ask, but if your not comfortable writing it than that's okay, you can replace it with headcannons for a sick reader or just ignore this request. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this! I hope you have an amazing day full of good and sweet times!

— 「𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐒/𝐎 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐏𝐓𝐒𝐃」

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ MASTERLIST

╰┈➤ Shadow the Hedgehog x reader

: ̗̀➛ synopsis; How your boyfriend Shadow would react to his partner (you) suffering from PTSD.

: ̗̀➛ Type; romantic headcanons

: ̗̀➛ warning(s); PTSD (probably inaccurate, although I have done a little research), mentions of panic attacks and nightmares.

Likes/Reblogs are always appreciated!! <3

Hi!! Thanks for requesting this, it means a lot that you’d want me to write something this personal for you. I do have to warn you though, I’ve never experienced or written PTSD before, so it might be horribly inaccurate, so I apologize in advance. I hope you still like it regardless, and I hope you have an amazing day!

→ Shadow completely understands what it’s like. He had to watch his sister get shot to death in front of him, so he sympathizes with you a lot, and is there for you whenever you need him.

→ Once you felt comfortable enough to tell him, he wouldn’t ask you what it was from, since he knows it’s a very sensitive topic and he doesn’t want to bring back any unwanted memories or emotions. Instead, he’d let you tell him about it when you were ready, and on your own terms. If you decided not to talk about it, he wouldn’t ask about it, and continue supporting you however he can.

→ In the case that you do decide to talk about what happened, he’d hold your hand and listen. When you were done talking about it, he’d tell you he was sorry that you went through that, and he’s grateful that you trust him enough to open up and be vulnerable with him. He’d offer to tell you stories about his time on the ARK, about his sister, or even more.. sensitive topics relating to him and his past. Anything to make you feel better, and it’s done.

→ If you ever wake up from a nightmare or a panic attack, he wouldn’t wait a second before rushing to check if you were okay, and help you slow your breathing, focus, and calm down. Once you were okay, he’d gently hold your hand and whisper words of comfort to you, even softly kissing your hand while helping you breathe. If you wanted space, he’d be very hesitant, but eventually agree. He’d check in on you occasionally, asking if there’s anything you need like food or water, nodding when you give him your response. You’ll talk to him when you’re ready, you just need space, and he understands that.

→ He’s learned how to cope with what had happened to him, and he’s been able to limit the amount of times he’s been reminded of Maria, so he offers to help you as well. He’d offer to try new hobbies with you, even some he’s unfamiliar with. He doesn’t care if he enjoys it or not, because as long as you’re with him and enjoying the activity, he is too.

→ His more common ways of distracting you is making you hot chocolate with whipped cream, sprinkles, and marshmallows, and bring it to you in your bed. This is usually followed by him putting on a movie or TV show of your choice and cuddling you under your blankets. Every few minutes he’d crack a smirk, planting soft kisses on your face, blushing as you giggled. He’d also cook your favorite meals, too. Anything for you. He’d even let you help if you wanted.

→ He’d definitely take you to your therapy appointments, giving you the gifts he bought you when he picks you up. He has the whole day planned for you guys. Fancy restaurant as a date (or if you don’t like that, a nice relaxing picnic in a beautiful field he found), going on nature walks with you, and holding you close outside at night, laying on the grass as he admires the stars with you. It’s something he used to do with Maria, and doing it with you felt just as special. He isn’t that into pointing out constellations, but if it helped you feel better, he would. If you liked hearing him talk, he’d talk endlessly— until his throat was hoarse if you wanted him to. Because you’re his partner, and he loves you unconditionally.

→ Overall, I think he’d be very compassionate and understanding. 10/10 boyfriend when it comes to dealing with this.

[roxineedstosleep]

Also what does the Superfam/superman do for doctor/dentist appointments? Does the Superfam constantly x ray you to check for issues?

What would they do if you have a toothache? Or would they notice before you?

(Sorry if this is a lot. I’m currently stuck in bed for a few days.)

Also could I get added to your taglist on everything?

They would definitely know if you've been brushing your teeth properly and could try to do something about taking you to the dentist when they notice that your wisdom teeth are becoming more of a nuisance than they should be.

If Clark hadn't been a reporter, a job as a dentist would have fallen almost perfectly into his lap.

If it is a Yandere affair?

The Kents would definitely (especially the Kryptonians in the family) be checking your vitals from time to time.

X-rays, super hearing, definitely the latter.

They would know what's going on with you at any given moment, especially if they notice that something is not within what they consider your ‘normal range’. Of course, Kon and Jon would be quicker to notice how weird it is, considering they do have human DNA in their bodies and can better parameterize some things. Clark, ironically, knows by theory what's right and wrong with your human body, but by the very fact that he has no real idea - he kind of knows what it's like to have a fever and what it should feel like and he knows what it looks like, but he's never really experienced it himself - so he's a little dependent on what the kids and Lois can tell him.

To be honest, I think they might determine more short-term things than long-term things.

Example: a fever, allergies, vomiting, stomach upset. If it has an external factor as a cause, they might know how to handle it.

But more long-term illnesses, I don't think so.

Like, if the reader, for some reason, was developing cancer, I don't think they would notice it until the early stages.

I mean, Clark knows a lot about human anatomy because he's interested, and I'm sure his kids know something out of necessity. But, there are parts of the body that are always mutating.

The cells of the body are always developing for something or renewing themselves. If it's an aggressive one they can probably detect some anomaly, but if it's one that takes a while to show signs… they may even be a little late in noticing exactly what's going on. That is, they'll notice something is going on and they know it's not normal within your established health parameters, but they won't know for sure until they can tell what it is.

Of course, compared to a regular medical diagnosis, they may even detect it at an extremely early stage, which helps in your recovery.

And, as far as mental illnesses or psychiatric conditions are concerned, I think they will be completely lost there.

A brain tumour or a concussion of the skull is easy to treat, but a panic attack or something more complex to analyse as one of these conditions might be… they definitely don't know what to do.

For them, to give an example, it would be something like this: They see something happening in there, they know what part of the brain is affected and how that affects the rest of the body. But they don't know what the exact cause is and how they could - effectively - cope and do a proper treatment that would allow their loved one to have a good quality of life.

These are vague ideas.

I'm definitely lacking more precision, but I feel it would look like this if we were talking about the Superfamily monitoring everything that is related to your health.

[formosusiniquis]

have your cake

So way back in August 2023 the steddiemicrofic challenge was Cake and 311 words, my head empty brain came up with one thought and it was Steve Munson having a bakery called Mun's Buns and so many months later I finally got around to finishing my vision

Ships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Tommy Hagan/Carol Perkins; implied/past Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington/Carol Perkins WC: 6408 | T | tags: Future Fic, the lightest of post homoerotic friendship breakup angst, fluff, Tommy POV AO3

The bakery has a stupid name, is the first thing Tommy thinks when Carol tells him where he's supposed to meet her on his lunch break. He’s still thinking that, when he sees the place for the first time through his rain speckled windshield. It's a modest storefront, small for what Carol says is a booming business, tucked in next to a used bookstore and a music shop. There's a baby yellow awning hanging from the front just underneath a sign lettered in soft blue that reads Mun's Buns.

He's late, is the second thing he thinks after pulling up. Caught up in some stupid bullshit for his dad he hadn't managed to slip away until 12:30. Even then it had only been because Tommy had told him he was going to be late for their cake tasting. He'd rolled his eyes when his father and Greg, a guy that Tommy only considers a co-worker in the sense that they are technically on the same payroll since Greg in every other aspect is incompetent and an idiot, had winced. Shooing him away like a kid who'd just admitted that he's already twenty minutes past curfew. But catching sight of the way Carol has her arms crossed, tapping her foot fast enough to kickstart a motor, while her hair hangs limp in a way that it hadn’t this morning a third thought crosses his mind: maybe he should have been a little more worried.

Waiting isn’t going to make things any better. So he steps out of the car, let’s the misty damp cling to him in a way that makes his dress pants and button down feel like a poorly tailored second skin, and takes his licks like a man. "Late, thirty minutes late. Christ, it's the only thing I've asked from you Tommy." Her right hook stings just as badly as it did sophomore year when she punched him for asking out Erin Murphy instead of her.

Shit like that is probably why no one expected them to make it this long or this far.

When they went away to college; different schools, hours apart. His parents had been gleeful as they'd warned him that high school relationships didn't always last. That he should keep his options open, he didn't want to miss out on the love of his life just because of comfort. He didn't get offered the family ring when he decided to propose right after graduation. Carol has always been particular. Wanted the house to come back to before the wedding could happen, wanted a long honeymoon. That meant saving, a lot of it. Tommy knew and Carol did too, they'd overheard his mother and aunt gossiping in too loud voices after too much wine that they hoped the long engagement meant they were both trying to figure out a good way to break it off with one another. 

Still, over the course of their now five year engagement no one's asked once if they wanted to trade for it.

Carol thought it was horrendous anyway. She’d had her ring picked out since ‘85, styled her class ring so it would look like the oval cut diamond she wanted. Had him slide it on her finger the second it came in.

Cause in the politest of terms, Carol could be a raging bitch. She was Tommy's favorite person in the entire world.

There’s going to be a bruise on his shoulder tomorrow, even if she’s guiltily smoothing a hand down his arm now. Thrust toward the door first in offering, Carol is sorry she hit him but she’s not apologetic. “I’m serious, Tom, if we lose this appointment and have to go with Sweet Treats for our cake I'll- I'll-"

Whatever threat she was preparing is drowned out and then cut off by the echoing TONG of the door chime. A light in the back shifts color for a second, out of place enough that he wonders if he even really saw it. Head tilting toward Carol, his question catches in his throat when he notices her pinched off appraising. Better not to add to the ammunition she might already be building.

And if Carol is looking he better do it too. She'll want to debrief when they're having dinner tonight, just like they did with the florist, the caterer, the three wedding planners they'd met with, and each of the venues that they'd visited. And it wasnt because she was demanding, fuck you Greg. It wasn't because she was being nitpick-y, alright it was a little bit because she was but he liked being particular with her. He liked being involved in his wedding.

So he looked around.

The way they utilized their space -- a building that big and there's barely enough room to stand, we want someone who knows how to work with limited space for the venues we're looking at -- was the reason their first wedding planner hadn't gotten hired. Small, but not cramped. There are a handful of tables scattered in the open space in front of the counter. It’s the kind of small town cozy that Hawkins had tried for and he doesn’t see very often anymore now that they’ve moved out to Indianapolis.

It’s lunchtime, still too early for people to be seeking out the rows of deserts in their neat glass counter and too late for the breakfast crowd. But one of the tables is occupied by a teenager with long, black braids scribbling in a notebook while a slice of ice cream cake melts on a plate by her elbow. 

Everything was neat, organized, and compliant with health code regulations -- they hadn’t even made it in the door of the first caterer’s when she noticed a trail of ants and roaches marching into the open kitchen door.

Carol had always been quick when she was making up her mind about something. Like those Sherlock Holmes stories they’d had to read in school, in a couple of seconds she could spot everything she needed to make a decision. After a decade Tommy still couldn’t keep up; but he was always best at following someone else’s lead.

The smile she’s got frosted across her face is as sugary and fake as the roses on the cupcakes he can see behind the low topped counters as she approaches the only visible staff member. A girl, young in the way that nebulous way anyone younger than him was now, with thick squared glasses that magnified two distressingly blue eyes. The counters looked like they were designed to sit low enough that she could easily see over the top while in her wheelchair.

“Welcome to,” her customer service tone borders on bored. Two words into a clear script and she sighs, as if saying the name physically pains her, “Mun’s Buns. We’ve got a special series of summer flavors: Strawberry Lemonade, Lavender Mint, Chocolate Fudgsicle, and,” she sighs again, “for the grownups a boozy Blue Moon with orange zest.”

“How about a wedding cake.” He’s impressed. Carol made it through the speech without interrupting.

“Do you have an appointment?” the girl raises her voice, enough to make them both flinch back. Customer service isn’t a requirement for this part of the job necessarily, but Carol had bailed on two venues because the staff hadn’t been polite enough.

Her smile doesn’t crack though, “Yes.”

Even though he’s pretty sure this girl has to be basically blind with the inch thick frames, she levels Carol with a lethal stare. “Not you.”

From the open entryway behind her Tommy had been able to make out what sounded like the highlights of yesterday’s game. He assumed that space had to be the kitchen where these rows of deserts were made. He’s still surprised when a guy’s voice is shouting back, “I don't know, Max, do I? Why don't you check?”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Max shouts back, glowering at then in stand in for her mystery boss.

“With your finger, asshole. It's in braille. When I gave you this job you said you were actually gonna work.”

“Douchebag." Her eyes never leave them, while her hands rummage around in a space beneath the counter where the cash register sits. Max offers no explanation or apology for her shouting or for her boss. A large red appointment book gets slammed down on the nearest counter, making Carol jump but the neat two by twos of chocolate frosted cupcakes don't budge. He watches, a little fascinated by the way her finger scans the page before slowing. "Did you write this or did Dustin?"

Carol has always valued gossip over professionalism, he thinks that’s why she’s done so well as a hairdresser even though she was always awful at chemistry. It���s also why he’s held off from pointing out that they could solve this a lot faster if this guy would come out from the back. "Why?" 

“Cause one of you can't spell and one of you is trying to invent braille shorthand. So I'm not really sure what to do with TomGan Wed.”

“It might be Thomas and Wedding.” Carol leans over the appointment book as she says it, using a tone of voice he has never once heard her use in the entire time he’s known her. He thinks it’s supposed to be helpful.

“Wedding sampler.” The girl calls toward the back, “It's getting late.”

“I’ve got it,” the voice from the back shouts back.There’s an effortless assurance Tommy can hear from where he’s standing. It hits him with a wave of nostalgia so strong he grabs Carol’s arm on instinct.

“Really,” she says, cutting her gaze over to him. He’s not sure what she sees. “If we could hurry this along, it's just we've only got an hour.”

“You're late.” The glare she gets shuts Carol down faster than he’s ever seen.

“Right.”

“Okay I've got it.” The voice from the back is now the voice in the doorway. Hidden for a second by a serving tray loaded with samples of rich looking cake, it’s the first time since arriving that Tommy has actually wanted to be here. Not just because he can make out strong shoulders and a body of a man that’s still very fit but clearly enjoys his work too; the hint of love handles above strong thighs. Only then that tray dips, and for the first time since 1985 Tommy finds himself looking at the shocked hazel eyes of Steve Harrington. “Oh.”

Carol reacts for him, taking in a breath sharp enough she might puncture a lung. They’ll both wind up suffocated on the floor of this stupid bakery with an awful name, because Tommy can’t manage to breathe at all looking at Steve. Still unfairly handsome, faintly pink at the shock of seeing them too he imagined.

His hair is long, is the first real thought his half fried brain manages to put together. Soft looking even where it’s damp at the temples where sweat has pooled. He has it pulled back with a couple of the same butterfly clips that Carol likes to use.

His second, somehow more hysterical thought: this wasn’t how Steve Harrington was supposed to be included in his wedding.

Tommy was six years old and knew he wanted to marry Steve. When he’d told his mom -- to ask for her ring, Steve thought it was romantic like princes and princesses that they had a special ring that they got married with -- she’d grabbed by his arm so hard it’d left finger shaped bruises. So he’d held that certainty quiet in his heart until he was ten, and suddenly it was okay to want to play with girls on the playground -- he thinks it’s because Steve got tired of there never being an even number when they tried to play kickball, he had a way of making everyone want to do the thing he was. Carol wasn’t afraid to tell Tommy C. that he was dumb or to tell Mark L. that he hadn’t actually made it to the base, Steve liked her fast. Too fast, and Tommy had to tell her that one day he was going to be able to keep Steve all to himself. But he knew that it wasn’t right to say that now, even if he wasn’t all the way sure why it wasn’t. He was ten, but he would be eleven soon, and he took this part of him that he’d kept secret for so long and he whispered it to Carol under the slide while Steve tried to convince Brad P. that he could too pick two people for his kickball team first.

He was ten and Carol said they could share. Boys can’t marry boys, but girls can. So they could both marry her and live together forever.

It became a joke when they finally shared it with Steve, thirteen and boys going out with girls wasn’t funny the way it used to be. Sarah Jane asked Carol if she had a chance at going steady with Steve. She told Tommy about it later and they both told Steve that he was too good to date any of the girls in their grade. “Well I’ve got you guys,” his voice cracked when he said it, throwing an arm around both of them. Carol didn’t care as much, but even she’d noticed the way Steve was changing from boyish to handsome.

They were sixteen and disaster was just around the corner, not that he knew that. Steve dated around but he always came back to them. The head, the heart, the body. They don’t feel complete without each other -- at least Tommy doesn’t. Mr. Kripke, who was hungover more often than he wasn't, passed out ten minutes into study hall. Carol didn’t even wait to see if he’d wake back up before she left her assigned table for theirs. She smoothed out a lined piece of notebook paper for them, and Tommy scoffed like he was supposed to. “Aren’t we a little old to be playing MASH?”

“It’s dirty MASH, and I thought you’d think it was funny.”

“I think it’s funny,” Steve had said, “that you’re getting eiffel towered on your wedding night. Who else is joining in, Carrie?”

“We couldn’t agree on who got you for their side of the aisle. So we’re taking you to bed instead.”

He was sixteen and the way that the two of them looked when they shared a joke was the hottest thing in the world. The way their smiles mirror when they turned to him, sharp and ready to flay open the softest parts of him.

Tommy’s two days older when Steve lets him kiss the taste of Carol out of his mouth.

It was three days after he turned seventeen and he had to pretend he didn't want to die when he saw how Steve looked at Nancy Wheeler. Like he didn’t want to rip his hair out because Steve was fucking infatuated with this mousy little teacher’s pet and wouldn’t even look at him anymore.

He still doesn’t like to think about the breakup. He pokes it like a fresh bruise. Less often now, but when he does he digs his fingers in. Baits Carol into fights he doesn’t mean just so he can pretend like he hasn’t lost something that hurts like a limb.

Steve Harrington turns twenty-eight next week, and he’s standing in front of them both holding pieces of what might turn into their wedding cake.

“Wow I can’t believe you’re in Indy!” False excitement grates, but at least Carol has gotten herself together enough to speak. He thought he’d have at least another few months to prepare for the thought of seeing Steve, by their ten year reunion he was going to be married and happy and over it.

“Yeah, this is- Married, wow! I kinda can’t believe you haven’t already.” He says it to Carol, his platitudes had always been for Carol, but his eyes find Tommy. 

While Carol chatters at them and for them both, nervous, he knows she’s nervous. The situation is sudden and strange and fraught. But Tommy just looks at Steve, who looks at him. He’s getting married in three months, one week, and two days from now and for the first time in eleven years Steve is looking at him.

"Takes a while to save up for when you want the best of everything. Dad's still the skinflint he always was, I think he'd pay me less than minimum wage if he could get away with it."

And those soft brown eyes look so sad, looking at him. Sometimes he thinks no one will ever understand him the way that Steve did.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting the best, or having a long engagement." Carol defends. It's the same line she's been giving everyone. Defensive of him and herself and the choices they've been making. He can't believe Steve is someone she thinks they have to defend against.

“I really hope you're happy, man," he says, and the sincerity is a balm on the sting of this conversation. He pushes his hair back from his face, the way he always has when he's uncomfortable and trying not to make it obvious. And there's a fresh new hurt when Tommy catches sight of a plain gold band on Steve's finger, shining bright between the golden highlights of his hair.

“I’m happy about this,” he can say honestly. Carol is one of the only things he’s ever been sure about. She held him steady as she could when his other sure thing left him with a cracked foundation in a convenience store parking lot. “What about you? How long after meeting the future Mrs. Harrington did you wait to put a ring on her finger?”

“Tommy,” Carol chides as the teen in the corner snorts. To anyone else it would sound like a reprimand for being nosy, he, and he suspects Steve, knows she’s telling him to stop worrying a scab that has no hope of healing right.

Married and they didn’t know. Wouldn’t have found out until the reunion. It’s not like he expected an invitation, maybe an engagement announcement sent to their parents’ houses. They’d sent one to Loch Nora when the real ring had finally made it to Carrie’s finger. It was equal parts olive branch and offering. They’d gotten it back return to sender with no forwarding address.

The bell above the door tongs again, loud enough to make Carol jump. The platter of cakes doesn't shift at all in Steve’s hand. His arm shows no sign of fatigue. It’s almost distracting enough that he misses the obvious. The bell signals someone is coming into the store.

“Sorry, Sweetheart. I know I said I wasn't gonna be late but Mike…” There just inside the door is the Freak. Undeniable even with his head down as he digs through his shoulder bag. From the riot of poorly maintained tangles that still hang around his shoulders to the expanded mess of tacky ink on his arms. The only thing that’s changed is the age in his face and the band on his shirt.

“Munson?” Carol has the reflexes and the personal grace to address him first. Shock more than the disgust it might have been when they were still kids.

Tommy feels like a kid still. Looks to Steve in an instinct he’d thought he’d stamped out years ago, only to be met with wide eyes and teeth grit tight enough to draw out the square line of his jaw.

“Christ, I still get nightmares that start like this.” Munson says, eye darting between the three of them. “Max, am I naked?”

“Don't know, don't wanna know.”

“I thought you'd be able to tell by the energy in the room.” He wiggles his fingers, still bedecked in silver, like they can divine the vibrations or some witchy shit.

That’s enough to make Steve break just a little. A soft, exhaling scoff before he finally starts to move out from the counter. Tommy catches, and he doubts Carol misses it either, how Steve passes the closer tables to set his tray down between them and Munson.

“I can tell I don't want to be here for this.” Their redheaded audience member says, “I'm taking my 15.”

“Don't go harass Mike, he's finally working,” Munson says.

“Will and El are on shift on the other side,” Steve calls out, not looking at any of them as he moves cakes from his tray to the table. A deliberate selection he seems to be making.

“Whatever, I’m gonna call Lucas and break up with him so he can play better or whatever.”

“Don’t be too harsh,” Munson calls out, “I’ve only got him on a five point spread.”

If Carol’s nails break from how hard they’re digging into his arm, somehow it’ll be Tommy’s fault. Not the fact that they’ve advanced the worst part of their ten year reunion by months, and also Munson is here and knows shit about basketball.

“Sorry, think my hearing’s going, sounded like you said you want him to lose and he’s getting kicked from the next one shot. I’ll let him know.”

“She gets that from you,” Steve and Munson say in sync. Glaring playfully at one another the way Steve used to with Carol.

“I’ll tell Robin you were-”

“Do not sick Buckley on me, Max made the deaf joke not me.”

“Weird, that’s not what I heard.” Steve has always claimed his hair as his best feature. It isn’t -- Carrie liked his eyes, Tommy his hands -- but it’s hard to deny that it doesn’t look good, flipping over his shoulder. His smile is private, just for Munson, soft the way he got whenever he picked up a new girl. Carrie taps the back of his hand, two sharp smacks, their signal for years that he needed to pay attention and notice something she had. Wide, nervous eyes dart to Steve -- like he hadn’t already been looking at Steve -- so he does his best to assess the way Carol would.

Jealous, viciously, Steve had been theirs in every way that mattered since they were ten years old and Carol had never liked sharing her toys with anyone but them. She watched his face for any sign of unhappiness anytime a new girlfriend came along, and when she found one she passed it along to him. So he could pick and joke until Steve was all theirs again.

So he checked the face. Tried to ignore the way Steve was lit up from the inside out with a joy he could barely remember, and then he saw the hearing aid.

He tapped back, three times. O.M.G.

“The 1985 Homecoming court here to reveal that this has all been a long con, Stevie?”

“Yeah I faked the name change paperwork and picked up a fake ID, sorry I took my business somewhere else.” Steve says it with the sincerity he’s always made those kind of jokes with, his strange sense of humor never coming across when he always sounded so serious. 

Munson gets it though, snorts loud and ugly, before a smile pulls wide across half his face the otherside taught with a gnarly scar. “Now I know why my fake ID business went belly up when we got to the city, not like I only sold three in high school.”  He gestures to the three of them in a wide arc.

Sophomores, they had decided it was time to throw their first real party now that Steve’s parents had moved out of Hawkins in all but name. Steve was a latchkey kid of new proportions and took to self sufficiency in a way that had seemed adult to him then; and in hindsight looked more like a child fighting for his life. Steve bragged how he’d been saving up the weekly checks they’d sent to ‘sustain him’ while they worked in the city during the week. His contribution to Tommy and Carol’s vague plan to throw a kegger by the pool. When they’d floundered, immediately, with the hows, Steve had been the one to suggest going to Munson.

“Love this preview of the reunion,” Carol cuts in, there’s no bite but Munson bristles anyway like she’s being rude for reminding them that there are customers present. “Steve?”

It’s funny, Tommy thinks, the way Steve still straightens his back at Carol’s tone. All this time and he can’t fight the old ingrained instincts either.

“Dustin made the appointment,” Steve apologizes, even as he’s posture perfect and preparing his pastries. The unsaid, ‘I definitely wouldn’t have’ doesn’t go unheard and it doesn’t sting any less even this far from their last interaction.

“Munson could join us,” Tommy offers, a new olive branch since their last one was never seen. Even if it does raise three sets of brows and makes Carrie’s nervous smile tighten even more in the corner of her mouth.

“Well at least one of us has to,” Munson, Eddie, says. Just says, tone like it was meant to be something said under his breath.

He's grown up a lot since high school, they both have. Still, he's only got twenty minutes left on his lunch break and it's been a long day. "God, is that why it's called that?" Growth, he doesn't say that Steve Munson sounds a lot dumber than Steve Harrington.

"It's charming," Carol and Steve both say. Though Carrie is definitely lying and Steve barely gets it out from between his gritted teeth, a sore spot. He's always been good at finding Steve's bruises.

"It's charming," Tommy agrees, like he always did when he was out voted.

Eddie has a smirk spread across his face and a ‘too proud of himself’ look in his eyes. Mouth open to make some quip that Tommy is going to pretend is funny, for Steve’s sake. Now that they’re here, he’s going to do something to show that they could talk to one another again. Steve clicks his tongue, taps his index and middle finger down to his thumb two quick times before he can.

He turns to the girl in the corner, "Erica, scram, go help Robin and the kids with the new donation that just came in."

The teen continues to scribble in the notebook in front of her, bulky headphones over her ears, she makes no sign that Tommy can see that she's heard Steve speak. "Erica, go, or I'll tell your mother you moved out of the dorms. You're 20, it's not child labor, and you've got a timecard."

She sighs and wordlessly packs up her things, she gives Steve a scathing look that takes Tommy back to high school. The withering eyebrow and rolled eyes would have been just at home on Steve’s own face in 1985, but she marches behind the counter, the sound of her dish rattling in the sink before she disappears out the same door that the redhead had gone out.

Now that the room has been cleared, an awkward silence has found the space to squeeze in. Munson, the original, still standing in the doorway and Steve standing between his unlawfully wedded husband and the two people who had lost their chance at him years ago.

The wedding and the reunion both on the horizon had dredged up a nostalgia that Tommy and Carol had been dealing with in their own ways. Dredging up old yearbooks, Carol had found a shoebox of old notes that she’d kept. Conversations written in three different inks by three different hands, nonsensical after all this time. Tommy woke up from dreams that he hadn’t had in years. Always of Steve and Carol, a study in opposites, but similar where it mattered.

“Well,” Steve says, taking charge of the situation like he always would when the other two faltered, “you’re here for a reason. We might as well get started on it.”

Steve’s fingerprints are still on them, just like he’d noticed theirs on him, molded as they were together. They’ve always bowed to his expectations, and his whims. When he ushers them to the table with a spread hand, Tommy and Carol go where they’re beckoned.

And so does Munson.

They keep an empty chair between them, an artificial divide for Tommy’s sanity, but with the sprawl of Munson’s legs their knees still occasionally brush together. Carol had taken the spot closest to Steve, who has stayed standing. He is their gracious host, marking the head of the round table.

“I pulled out the full sampler before I realized it was you,” Steve says. Even with as off balance as the interaction has felt, Tommy doesn’t feel his hackles raising. While it’s possible he’s gotten more subtle with his digs, Steve’s vicious tongue was usually unmistakable. “I can tell you about as many of them as you want though if you want to pretend like we don’t already know what I’ll be making you. I’m sure neither of you have eaten lunch yet.”

“You are going to take us on?” Carol asks. Shock always gives her tone an extra edge, defensive and catty, even if she’s really just waiting to see if another shoe will drop.

“Obviously,” Steve says, placing a faintly orange square of cake in front of her. He slaps Eddie’s hand away from another piece without looking away from either of them. “That’s as far as I’ll be going in participation though.”

He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s mouth twitches up with the joke, a filthy smirk that leaves Tommy flushing hot. Too warm to not be a bright and obvious red at the acknowledgment of that old private in-joke.

It doesn’t get better when Carol moans, “Oh my god, Steve!” Even if it is about the cake.

He laughs, and Tommy suspects the two are actually trying to kill him. He chances a glance over at Munson who looks like he doesn’t care at all that his husband has made Tommy’s fiance moan. He is watching Tommy though, an inquisitive look like the one Carol gets when she happens to catch a nature documentary.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with Carol, “I’ll do something small with that citrus cake for you and Tom so you’ve got something you’ll actually eat on your wedding, maybe a pineapple buttercream on top like that nasty Juicy Fruit gum you like so much.”

“I mean it’s really crazy how you’re so good at this when you’ve never had any taste,” Carol compliments, she never did learn how to be nice.

He could probably count Steve’s teeth in the answering smile. Tommy can feel it like an ache in his chest how much he missed this. He snatches another cube of cake off the tray just so has something else to focus on.

“That’s the fancy one for the people who hate their guests,” Munson says as the cake has settled on the flat of Tommy’s tongue.

“It’s lavender,” Steve corrects, and the floral flavor is lodged in the back of his throat at least gives him a reason now to feel so choked up. “And it is for a particular sort of bride.”

“Are you saying I’m not fancy and particular, Munson?” Carol asks. 

She’s obviously talking to Eddie Munson, who lifts his hands up in answer. But it’s Steve who says, “If you tried to feed that to Gail she would leave the reception bitching the whole time.”

“Well go on,” Tommy finds himself goading now that he’s swallowed, “finish calling your shot, Stevie. You said you knew what we were walking out of here with.”

Carol reaches across the table, locking eyes with Eddie as she snags the piece closest to him. The one his fingers had been inching toward like he thought Steve wouldn’t notice him trying to take it.

“I’ll make a small citrus cake for you, Carrie, we’ll hide it in the back of the larger cake so you can get the pictures of you cutting it and smashing into each other's faces-”

“We will not be doing that,” she interrupts, the warning for him and also unnecessary. He already knows how she feels about being embarrassed in public.

“Then the big cake for your guests will be a chocolate cake, I can cover it in a buttercream or a fondant icing also chocolate, because it’s the only kind of cake the Hagan family will eat. Even though I’m sure John hasn’t given you a dime for the wedding, he’ll complain until Hannah gets married if he doesn’t like the cake.”

“Really,” Steve continues, “the only thing up in the air is how many people you were able to get away with not inviting, Care.”

The two of them start talking actual wedding logistics, and as Tommy grabs another bite of cake -- this one looks like it might be a normal flavor -- he figures the real show of good faith would be talking to the only other person at the table while he eats what Steve correctly dubbed his lunch.

“Y’know he never actually answered me,” he says in an undertone.

Munson seems surprised at being spoken to, only widens his eyes in response to Tommy’s unasked question.

“I asked Steve how soon after the first date he proposed, he never actually answered.”

Eddie softens at the edges before he can even say anything. Steve had a way of doing that, bringing out the romantic in a person. He loved with a passion that demanded it be matched. “Technically I proposed to him, but he says it doesn’t count because we weren’t together and I was high on morphine after a major surgery and thought he was Apollo, come to whisk me away.” The smile on Munson’s face looks dopey and drugged up now, like the very memory of whatever hospital stay is so ingrained in his mind he can feel the high now.

“But,” he goes on, “he told me we were getting married whether it was legal or not about three months after he got legally married to another woman.”

“Stop,” Steve has always been able to sense when he’s about to be the butt of the joke. He has a finger pointed at Eddie like a teacher delivering a lecture. “You can’t tell people that. It was for tax reasons, I’m not cheating on my wife.”

“You say tomato, I say whichever one of us is your least favorite has to be the extramarital affair.”

“I say, you’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.” Tommy can hear the warm affection behind the insult, the way their picking is a safer way to express their passion for one another.

He thought he would be jealous of whoever finally managed to reel in Steve Harrington for good, and he is. The emotion is there, present in the snarling tangle of emotions that this encounter has left in him. One that he and Carol will have to slowly tease and pick out tonight when they’re home in bed. Trying to make sense of what each thread is and what it means for them. But the one bright pulsing thread he can make sense of is happiness. He’s happy for Steve, happy that he gets to see an old friend so at ease and obviously cared for.

And he’s sad that his time is up, his lunch hour so close to an end he’ll be late getting back to the office. Something he can already hear his Dad and fucking Greg giving him shit for. Which means they have to end their time here.

Steve walks them to the door, flips the sign to mark them closed for lunch.

“Congratulations again, you two,” he says, “I really am happy I can get to be a part of this with you all. Even if it’s a little different than we used to imagine.”

Carol reaches out for the both of them, puts her hand on his arm. Tommy finds that he’s the one who actually says, “We’re glad you found someone who makes you this happy, dude. You deserve it.”

“Yeah, he’s alright most of the time.” It's said with such fondness it becomes a declaration. It’s hard to imagine how they thought they could ever be the something that could make Steve this happy. But maybe in a different life, under different circumstances it could have been.

There’s a minute where they all stand in the doorway. He wonders if they’re all afraid that this might be the last time they see each other, speak to one another, until Steve is delivering the cake on the day of the wedding. Maybe it’s just him, he was the one who pushed back the hardest after things ended.

Someone finally gives in and pushes the door open. It’s TONG a death toll for their current conversation. But it also sends a jolt through Steve, he straightens to his full height like a shock has gone through him. “Here,” he says, “here, um.” He digs around in his apron until he finds a pen and a receipt pad. Jots down something before tearing it off and putting it in Tommy’s hands, “It's our home number, in case you have any cake emergencies or something.”

They really can’t stay any longer.

Carol takes the note, better at keeping track of these things than Tommy is. It’s hard to know if they’ll actually use it, maybe after they talk about it, but if they do she’ll be the one to do it. She’s always been braver than him.

There’s no way of guaranteeing anything but the fact that they’ll have a cake on the table on their wedding day. But he hopes that Steve might stay for the ceremony once he brings it, he can even bring Eddie if that’s what gets him there. 

Alone in his car, Tommy lets himself take a minute to think about Steve Harrington one last time. He isn’t going to get what he wanted as a kid. Doubts that he’ll ever be as close to Steve as he’d been in childhood, too much time has passed and too much has changed.

But there’s an opportunity to get to know Steve Munson, and he isn't going to pass it up. Even if he doesn’t know how to name a bakery.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Ironies of Life (Part 4) - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster/ Fem!OC (Naomi)

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: (Unplanned) Pregnancy; Exes to Partners; Emotional Angst; Pregnancy Complications; Hospitals; Referenced Labor and Delivery; Carole and Goose are Mentioned; Named Female OC (Naomi), but No Physical Descriptions

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: Naomi and Rooster welcome their child to the world.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Master List

Rooster spent the rest of the weekend up with Naomi’s family setting up the nursery and just generally preparing for the baby’s arrival. Naomi thanked him for making sure that she got into bed safely after she fell asleep in the nursery after her baby shower and Rooster told her not to worry about it. And that was all that came of that.

After the baby shower weekend, Rooster and Naomi left on better terms. And with the baby’s due date coming up, Rooster was very thankful for that. They had been texting back and forth pretty much every day. Naomi kept him up to date on her latest pregnancy milestones and appointments. Rooster found himself staring at the updated ultrasound photo before he went to bed every night and every morning when he woke up.

But then that little voice in that back of his head would scold him for getting attached and he would stow it away again, only to repeat the cycle the next day.

He didn’t want to claim that he was a thousand percent ready to be a dad, to be a co-parent with his ex, who lived hours away from him. But it was getting easier to picture. It was getting easier to slip into that fantasy. Even when that voice in the back of his head told him that he was crazy for thinking that it was attainable and maintainable, it was getting harder to fight the urge to picture that picket fence kind of life.

“I was talking with Cyclone today,” Hangman stated, causing everyone to turn to him. They were all sitting out back of the Hard Deck, soaking up the sun after a long day. “He seems to think that we'll be called up soon. Within three months is what he told me.”

“That sounds about right,” Phoenix agreed, tapping her fingers on the table. “Frankly, I was expecting us to be deployed sooner.”

That had Rooster whipping his head around.

Naomi’s due date was two weeks away. A date that was now burned into Rooster’s brain. Any date that got thrown around him, Rooster always measured it against Naomi’s due date. He already informed Cyclone about Naomi's due date and Cyclone told him that he couldn’t guarantee anything, but he would try his best to make sure that Rooster was there.

But there was nothing that Cyclone would be able to do when it came to a deployment. If they got called up, they got called up, and it would have been like Rooster never even tried to reenter Naomi’s life or be there for the baby in the first place.

“Really?” Rooster asked Phoenix quietly, who quickly noted his concerned expression.

“Relax. It probably won’t be for some time,” she replied, sensing his nerves. “You’ll make it.”

Rooster nodded, blinking a bit rapidly, before he took a couple sips of his beer and calmed down. Falling into a casual conversation with Bob and Fanboy, Rooster didn’t notice his phone vibrating on the table. If it wasn’t for Phoenix nudging him in the side, he would have completely missed the call.

Taking his phone from Phoenix’s outstretched hand, Rooster flipped it over to see that Sydney was calling him. Raising an eyebrow, Rooster answered the phone call as he stepped away from the table. The conversation died down a bit as the rest of the Daggers glanced over at him curiously.

“What’s that about?” Bob asked Phoenix, who shrugged in response.

“Hello?” Rooster answered, confused.

“You need to get here. Now,” Sydney stated, not beating around the bush at all.

“What? Is Naomi in labor?” Rooster questioned, raising his voice a bit in surprise.

“No. Not yet. She passed out. Collapsed. At work,” Sydney replied, causing Rooster’s blood to instantly run cold.

“What?” he breathed out. “Is she okay? Is the baby okay?”

“She’s at the hospital. I’m driving there now and I haven’t talked to her or the doctors yet. I’ll keep you updated, but if you can get up here, get here. Now.”  

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Rooster promised before hanging up the phone.

The other Daggers seemed to hear the panic in his voice because when he turned around to grab his keys, the other Daggers were already standing up, ready for action.

“What do you need?” Phoenix asked bluntly, reading the panic all over Rooster’s face.

~~~~~

Naomi sighed, rubbing her bump slowly as the doctors and nurses moved around her. Her mom and her sister Sydney were sitting on either side of her as the doctors continued to study the monitors. Naomi was clearly exhausted and very much embarrassed, but she thought that she was just a little dehydrated and sleep deprived. Nothing more.

“Can I go home yet?” Naomi asked softly, earning a sharp look from her sister.

“You just passed out and you’re over eight months pregnant. Don’t be stupid.”

“Sydney, your sister is aggravated enough,” their mother called from the other side of the room. Turning to one of the nurses, Naomi’s mom smiled kindly. “Do you have any kind of update that you could share with us? Anything at all?”

“We’re waiting on an obstetrician,” the nurse stated, typing something into Naomi’s chart. “In the meantime, you should focus on getting your blood sugar up.”

Naomi sighed, leaning back, and holding her hands to her face. It was already embarrassing enough that she passed out at work, on one of her last days before she took her maternity leave, but now it looked like she would be spending an extended period of time in the hospital when all she wanted to do was curl up in her own bed and shut out the world.

“I just want to go home,” Naomi sighed, exhausted and emotionally drained.

“Honey, it’s probably best if you just hang out here for some time. Just until we’re sure that you and the baby are all set,” Naomi’s mom stated, patting her daughter’s shoulder. “Why don’t you just take a breath, okay? Everything’s going to be fine.”

Naomi nodded, focusing on her breathing for a few moments, until the sound of rapid footsteps down the hall caused her to open her eyes again. She turned her head just in time for the curtain blocking off her emergency room section to burst open, revealing an absolutely frazzled and stressed-out-of-his-mind Rooster.

“Rooster?” Naomi gasped, sitting up in her bed.

“Are you okay?” Rooster asked, rushing around to her bedside. Sydney shifted out of the way, making space for Rooster. “Are you and the baby alright?”

“Yes, we’re fine,” Naomi assured him quietly, blinking rapidly. “How did you even know that I was here?”

“Your sister called me,” Rooster stated softly.

Naomi to shot a glare in Sydney’s direction only to find that Sydney excused herself from the whole room. Growling out in frustration, Naomi leaned back against her bed as her mom got up, glancing between Naomi and Rooster.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” she spoke with a knowing look.

Rooster waited until Naomi’s mom stepped out of the room and drew the large privacy curtain again before turning back to Naomi. His ex-girlfriend seemed annoyed by his presence and he was beginning to wonder if he crossed some unwritten boundary by coming up here to check up on her.

“Did you want me to go too?” he asked, causing Naomi to immediate whip around.

“No, no,” she quickly replied, grabbing his hand, as if she was worried that he would slip away in a second if she didn't. “No, I, I want you here. I just, I thought that you had work and everything else and I was just dehydrated and I didn’t see the big fuss in it to call you and freak you out and everything.”

“Naomi, I don’t give a shit about what else I have going on,” Rooster responded firmly, causing Naomi to pause. “You’re in the hospital. That’s my first priority. Always.”

“Did you get emergency leave?”

“Yeah, I called Cyclone and he granted it,” Rooster replied softly, nodding along. “He said that if you went into labor, he would just send me on paternity leave.”

“Well, I don’t think that she’s coming any time soon,” Naomi mumbled, rubbing her bump.

Of course, her little slip up went unnoticed by herself. But Rooster noticed it. His eyes widened a fraction and he stood there in shock for a few moments. Naomi turned back to him, a bit confused at his sudden silence.

“What?”

“We’re having a girl?” Rooster asked, causing Naomi to start to panic.

“Shit, I—I’m so sorry!” she apologized, holding her hands over her mouth as tears came to her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Bradley! I knew that you wanted to wait and I just forgot because I’m just stupidly tired and I’m so sorry, Bradley!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rooster replied, grabbing Naomi’s hands away from her mouth and getting her to look at him. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. You wanted to wait and I ruined it,” Naomi started to cry, simply overwhelmed with her day.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Rooster assured her, squeezing her hands. Tears came to his own eyes as he stared down at her large bump for a moment before turning back to Naomi with a watery smile. “We’re having a girl. A little girl.”

“Yes, we are,” Naomi agreed, tears still streaming down her face.

Rooster gently pulled Naomi into a hug, emotionally overwhelmed on his own. Rubbing her bump as Naomi buried her face into his neck, Rooster finally let himself accept the fact that he was going to become a dad. He had been frightened, terrified, absolutely out of his mind with stress after Sydney called him. And during the short flight and trip here, the same thoughts kept flying through his mind.

He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t lose Naomi. He couldn’t lose the baby. He couldn’t lose his daughter.

And that emotional distance that he forced himself to maintain from the idea of having kids, which was more of the result of his childhood trauma than his own personal desires, chipped away all the more. He held Naomi close and didn’t dare let her go. Not when he was so close to losing her and the baby. Even if it was just a scare, he wasn’t going to take them for granted ever again.

“May I come in?” a voice called from outside the drawn curtain, causing Naomi and Rooster to release each other.

“Please,” Naomi replied, sniffling and wiping away her tears.

“My name is Dr. Nazario. I’m an obstetrician in the maternity ward here at the hospital,” the obstetrician explained softly, standing on the other side of Naomi’s bed. “We’re going to briefly transfer you to the other side of the hospital to check you and your baby over.”

“And then I’ll be released?” Naomi asked, causing the obstetrician to pause and glance up at Rooster.

“Let’s just see how the two of you are doing first before we make any decisions about that.”

A nurse arrived to unhook Naomi from the monitors. Rooster texted Naomi’s mom and her sister to tell them what was going on before gathering all of Naomi’s things and pushing Naomi in a wheelchair down the hall. Naomi was quickly hooked up to several different machines and Dr. Nazario conducted an exam and an ultrasound to see if their baby girl was healthy and happy.

The obstetrician was calm and methodical and didn’t give anything away as she did her checks. Rooster stood on the balls of his feet, ready for action, and offered Naomi a hand, which she quickly took to holding and fiddling with to try and keep her own sanity.

“Alright,” Dr. Nazario stated, turning back to Naomi and Rooster, “it seems that you’ll be here with us for a little while longer.”

“I’m sorry?” Naomi asked, sitting up more.

“What’s wrong?” Rooster questioned, squeezing Naomi’s hand reassuringly.

“Nothing extreme,” Dr. Nazario assured both parents, her face calm and neutral. “But your baby’s blood pressure is lower than it should be and seems to be getting lower.”

“What?” Naomi gasped, protectively wrapping an arm around her bump. Rooster’s expression steeled but internally he was panicking. Absolutely panicking. But he couldn’t let it show. Not when he could feel Naomi’s anxiety radiating off of her. “But she was fine at my last check up! They said that—”

“—She’s fine now,” Dr. Nazario interjected, trying to keep Naomi calm. “She just needs to come sooner rather than later.”

“Like a C section?” Naomi asked, causing Dr. Nazario to shake her head.

“No, no, you can give birth naturally. But we’ll have to induce you,” Dr. Nazario explained, causing Naomi to freeze. “You still have plenty of time and you should get your rest now. But in a couple of hours, we’ll need to induce you so that it doesn’t get any worse.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Naomi sobbed out, causing Rooster to immediately drop to her side and pull her in for a hug.

“No, not at all,” Dr. Nazario replied calmly, resting a hand on Naomi’s shoulder. “Sometimes, it just happens this way. It’s nothing to be scared about and there’s certainly nothing to blame yourself over. We’ll take good care of you here, alright?”

“Thank you,” Rooster stated for Naomi, holding her close.

“Try and get some sleep,” Dr. Nazario suggested, causing Rooster to nod on behalf of Naomi.

Once Dr. Nazario was out of the room, Naomi immediately burst out into tears, burying her face into Rooster’s chest. He held her as close as he could, rubbing her back and her bump as he tried to remain calm himself. Naomi was the one going through it right now and he needed to support her. She needed him, their daughter needed him, and he wouldn’t let them down.

“What are we going to do?” Naomi whimpered out, snapping Rooster back to the present.

“I’m going to text your mom and your sister and tell them to come down here. One of them will go and grab your stuff from the house and bring it back here. And we can email your boss to tell them that you’re taking your leave early. And then you should sleep, if you can,” Rooster listed off, maintaining his composure. “And then they’ll induce you and our daughter will be here and it’ll all be fine.”

“Please don’t leave me,” Naomi begged him, causing Rooster’s heart to shatter in his chest.

“I won’t,” he vowed, pressing a kiss to her head. “Not again.”

~~~~~

Naomi eventually settled to sleep, exhausted from her day. They already talked to her boss about her maternity leave and Sydney dropped off the hospital bag and the car with the baby seat before heading home herself. Naomi’s mom promised to be back in the morning and Rooster stayed by Naomi’s side the whole time.

When he was certain that she was asleep, Rooster stood up from his seat and walked out of the room. Shutting the door behind him quietly, Rooster headed down the hall so that he wouldn’t disturb Naomi or anyone else. Stepping outside the ward for a brief moment, Rooster pulled out his phone and made a call.

Maverick picked up before the first ring even finished.

“Bradley? What’s wrong? Is Naomi alright? And the baby? What’s going on?” Maverick asked, rapid fire.

“They’re okay,” Rooster stated shakily, glancing back at the ward. “But, uh, they’re going to induce her.”

“Induce her?”

“Yeah, the baby’s blood pressure is low and they’re worried that it’ll keep dropping. They’re going to induce her in the morning,” Rooster explained, tears stinging his eyes. Sitting on the bench, Rooster held his head in his hand. “Mav, I’m so scared.”

“Bradley, they’re going to be fine. There’s a whole team of doctors there to help.”

“There was a whole team of doctors for Mom, Mav, and they didn’t do shit,” Rooster sobbed out, letting his emotions from the day out all at once. “I can’t lose them, Mav. I can’t. I fucked up too much with them and I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to them.”

“I know, Bradley,” Maverick reassured him, remaining calm on the other end of the line. “But this isn’t like that, okay? Those doctors birth a hundred babies a week. And, hey, they didn’t rush her to surgery or anything like that. They probably see a whole bunch of cases just like Naomi all the time. It’s going to be fine, Bradley. They’re going to be fine.”

“Can you come up here?” Rooster asked, pathetically, like a child. “Please, Mav.”

“I’ll be there, Bradley,” Maverick promised his godson. “I’ll be there tomorrow morning. Can you sit tight until then?”

“Yeah, I can,” Bradley stated, wiping his tears away. “Thanks, Mav.”

“It’s what your parents would have done,” Maverick told Rooster, who let out a shaky breath, dropping his head again.

“Yeah, it is,” Rooster agreed quietly, wiping the rest of his tears away.

~~~~~

Naomi was induced early the next morning and gave birth to a healthy little baby girl fourteen hours later.

Sobbing with just pure joy, Naomi cuddled her newborn daughter, who was screaming and crying and shaking her fists. Rooster, keeping a steady hand on Naomi’s left leg, leaned down to inspect his daughter, crying right there along with Naomi and their baby. Naomi looked up at Bradley with a watery smile and he pressed a loving kiss against her head in response.

“You did it,” he praised her, rubbing his thumb on her thigh and pressing another kiss to her shoulder. “She’s here. And she’s so beautiful.”

The nurses briefly took their baby away to look her over and make sure that she was healthy. Rooster did his best to soothe Naomi, who was on the edge of her bed and physically leaning towards her baby. And when the nurses returned, Naomi quickly took her daughter back into her arms.

“She’s so tiny,” Naomi whispered out, tracing their daughter’s face with her finger.

“What do you want to name her?” Rooster asked, barely breathing as he stared down at their daughter.

“What about Carole? Or Caroline?” Naomi offered softly, causing Rooster to turn to her with wide eyes. “After your mom.”

Rooster gulped and looked down at his daughter for a moment, running a finger slowly through her soft hair. Naomi stared up at him, waiting for him to react. She knew how much Rooster’s mom meant to him. He was a mama’s boy in his heart and he had to bury his mom while he still needed her. And Naomi wanted her daughter to still feel close to her paternal grandparents.

“Maybe her middle name?” Rooster suggested after a long pause, tears still in his eyes. “She should have her own name.” Trailing a finger along the crown of his daughter’s head, Rooster turned back to Naomi. “What did you want to name her?”

“I really liked Mila,” Naomi replied, staring down at her daughter with a soft smile.

“She looks like a Mila to me,” Rooster agreed, resting his head against Naomi’s. “Mila Carole.”

“Welcome to the world, Mila,” Naomi mused before turning to Rooster. Noting how Rooster seemed to barely be breathing, his brown eyes studying every millimeter of their daughter’s face, Naomi smiled encouragingly at Rooster. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Can I?” Rooster asked, noticeably perking up.

“Hold your daughter,” Naomi insisted, causing Rooster to stand up straighter.

He carefully leaned over and took his daughter into his arms for the first time. Naomi kept a supportive hand on Mila’s head until Rooster straightened up, holding Mila on his own. Naomi smiled widely as she watched Rooster’s face break out into an expression of complete awe and devotion. Mila was small, not even a full six pounds, and looked even smaller in Rooster’s thick arms.

“Hi, Princess,” Rooster choked out, trailing his finger over her little clenched hand. "I can't believe that you're here." Choking back some intense emotions, Rooster pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You're so beautiful, sweetheart. So beautiful."

Mila grabbed her dad’s finger gently, her puckered lips parting a bit as she let out a noise. Rooster leaned down and pressed another kiss to the top of Mila’s head, trying to not let his tears drip onto her delicate little face.

"I love you, sweetheart," Rooster told his daughter as he held her just a little bit closer. "I didn't tell you when you were in your mommy's belly because I was an idiot back then, but I want you to know that I love you. I love you so much, Mila. And nothing is ever going to change that. Ever. I'm never leaving you again, Mila."

Pressing a kiss to Mila's nose and causing her to scrunch up her face and stick out her tongue a bit, Rooster chuckled to himself, rubbing her face gently with his finger. He turned to back to Naomi and was surprised to see her looking like she was on the edge of tears. Quickly stepping over to Naomi's bedside and bending down a bit so that he was closer to her, Rooster shot her a concerned look.

"What's wrong? Did you want me to call the nurse?"

Sniffling, Naomi leaned forward and pressed an emotional kiss to Rooster's lips. He froze for a moment, shocked that Naomi, after all that he put her through, would initiate a kiss with him. But just before he was about to return the kiss, Naomi pulled away, shocked at her own actions.

"I'm so sorry. I . . . I just . . ."

"You don't have to explain it," Rooster spoke quickly, before Naomi could say that she regretted the kiss. Adjusting his hold on Mila, he turned back to Naomi. "We'll talk about it. When you're rested and healed up."

"Thanks," Naomi sniffled, smiling softly.

"I should be the one thanking you," Rooster replied, turning back to stare down at Mila.

~~~~~

Rooster walked into the waiting area, still wearing a stupid, absolutely lovesick smile to grab Naomi’s mom, sister, and Mav. Sydney was the first to spot him and quickly got to her feet, followed closely by her mom. Maverick stood up slowly, smiling to himself at Rooster’s expression.

“She’s here,” Rooster stated, stopping in front of the three of them. “She’s five pounds, twelve ounces. Perfectly healthy and beautiful. And we named her Mila Carole.”

“And Naomi?” Sydney asked, still concerned.

“She’s doing fine. Tired and sore, but she’s doing well. She said to come back and meet Mila,” Rooster encouraged, gesturing down the hallway.

Naomi’s mom and Sydney hurried down the hall, eager to check up on Naomi and the new baby, leaving Rooster and Maverick in the waiting room. Turning to Bradley, Maverick couldn’t help the tears forming in his eyes as he smiled proudly up at his godson.

“Congratulations, Bradley.”

“Thanks for coming, Mav.”

The two men shared a tight, meaningful hug, both letting the happy tears slip out briefly. Maverick gave Rooster a squeeze before leaning over to pick up the small gift bag that he brought along. Rooster took the gift bag from Maverick’s hand but stared at him questioningly for a moment.

“Just something that I brought along for the baby. For Mila.”

Rooster nodded and opened the gift bag. Reaching inside, Rooster slowly pulled out a white goose stuffed animal. Letting out a light chuckle, Rooster ran his thumb over the stuffed animal before pulling Maverick into another hug.

“Thanks, Mav.”

“You don’t thank family,” Maverick replied, giving Rooster another supportive squeeze.

Pulling away slowly, Rooster grabbed Maverick by the shoulder and gestured down the hallway.

“Come meet her,” Rooster insisted, pulling Maverick with him.

A.N. And that's the end of 'The Ironies of Life'! I might write an epilogue, but I'm still waiting on inspiration for that. Thank you to everyone who read, reblogged, and commented on any of the parts of this series along the way!

Tag List:

@gxlden-honey @caidi-paris @xoxabs88xox @badasspizzalover @rosiahills22 @midnightmagpiemama @indigomaegrimm @pinkpantheris @itsmytimetoodream @appledressing @senjoritanana @averagereader35 @abaker74 @avengersfan25

[ladylooch]

Best Thing I’ll Ever Do - Lio x Savannah (Part 2)

A/N: Since you all asked soooo nicely! Here is the next part of Lio and Sav. I hope you all are having wonderful Sundays. I love you... remember that when you read this next part.... 💀

Word Count: 4k

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

January

Since that day in Southern California a year ago, a lot has happened for Savannah and Lio.

First and most exciting, a large 5 carat diamond weighs her left hand down. She still feels like she needs to pinch herself to make sure it isn’t a dream. Savannah Miller is going to marry Lio Meier next Summer. 

Second, she is no longer with the Devils. After the previous season ended, she evaluated her goals and felt like she wanted to do something different than what she had been doing. She wanted to be her own boss and see where her content career could take her rather than being constrained by a team and a league that wanted things done a certain way.

Third, and probably most important of all, she’s been to more doctors visits in the last year than she can count on any of her appendages.

Lio kept his vow to her to utilize the Devils resources to locate an endometriosis specialist who would give Savannah answers and a better direction for her wellbeing.

Dr. Barnes was the first one they met with and Savannah instantly knew things were going to be different this time around. Dr. Barnes had a kind, empathetic, and solutions driven focus that made Savannah feel at ease immediately. She listened to Savannah’s entire story, took down diligent notes, asked follow up questions.  Within the same appointment, Dr. Barnes created a multilayered, holistic care plan, taking into consideration that Savannah did not want to go right to surgery.

The first thing they decided on was to take out Savannah’s IUD and switch her to birth control pills. There was concern the IUD was rubbing against portions of endometriosis which was exacerbating her symptoms. Savannah did feel better for a few months, but by month three, she was back to clutching her abdomen in the fetal position for days. They pivoted the treatment plan to a different kind of pill that other patients had success with, but when Savannah ended up in the ER again early in the summer, throwing up and passing out from the pain, it became clear that surgery was going to be the only option Savannah had for long-term relief. 

The day of her surgery, Lio kissed her in reassurance, then waved goodbye to her as she was wheeled out of pre-op and down the hall.

“I’ll be right here with you when you’re done, baby.” He had called to her before the doors separated them. Savannah nodded, trying to be brave for herself and Lio. Last time, she had to do this virtually alone. Her boyfriend at the time had shown up after she went in for surgery and then dropped her off at home before heading out with his friends for another round of golf. Her recovery was completely isolating except for a neighbor who checked in on Savannah once a day at Savannah’s request.

Lio Meier would never. 

Instead, he had a recovery suite set up in their bedroom for her. A quiet oasis where Savannah could relax and heal in her time. He has been there every step of the way, even at the moments when Savannah has pushed him away. She may be used to dealing with this alone, but Lio won’t let her go through this that way anymore.

Two weeks after her surgery, her and Lio went back to Dr. Barnes to get the findings of the surgery and tissue analysis. The news were mixed results. The good news was the spots they removed were consistent with Savannah’s previous surgery, meaning there was no new or extended growth in her endometriosis. The bad news was this confirmed that surgery is only successful for a limited amount of time, meaning Savannah will likely need several more surgeries down the line if this path continues for her. Dr. Barnes has encouraged Savannah to sit with this news and consider further permanent solutions such as a hysterectomy.

“What are my other options? I’m not ready for that.” She had asked with Lio’s hand tucked tightly against hers. His thumb stroked over the tendons on the top of her hand with assurance. He was here; they would get through this together.

The other recommendation was to go back to birth control, but a Progesterone only option. Dr. Barnes was shocked when Savannah said this was never given to her, even as a first line of treatment. It’s been four months now and Savannah has been feeling better than she could have imagined with her endometriosis. However, a severe drawback is that her pain has moved from her uterus and formulated in her head as three day long migraines when she is at the end of her cycle.

Everything costs something. That’s been the biggest lesson Savannah has learned through this journey.

But this weekend, none of that matters. Because Lio has a whole trip planned to celebrate his beautiful, strong fiancé, finally having answers and support that she deserved all along. He has been wanting to do this for months, but Savannah didn’t want to leave home until she had a clear understanding of how managed her endo was after surgery. The last thing she wanted was him to put together a perfect trip that ended with her in the ER from debilitating pain again.

Savannah is confident that won’t be happening this trip. She grins, feeling grateful for the peace of mind she has going into this fun weekend.

Lio’s Porsche points towards the southern tip of New Jersey. They are 2 hours into their 2.5 hour trip down to Cape May. The vastness of the ocean hints to their left off the Garden State Parkway the closer they get to town. Lio drives, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel to the beat of the pop song coming through Savannah’s Spotify. His other hand is on her thigh where she traces his fingers and the veins of his forearm.

“I wonder how busy it will be.”

“Probably not bad. School is back in session after winter break.” Lio reminds her.

“I’ve never been here in the winter months.”

“My mom took us down here a few times. It was mostly before the twins though.”

“How do you even remember that?” Savannah asks, looking over at him. He shrugs.

“I remember a lot of what we did with my mom. She was great at making it feel like we could still have fun even with how often my dad was gone.” Lio starts to chuckle. “Also I definitely pushed Livy in the ocean and got yelled at by my dad on FaceTime, so it was memorable.”

“Lee!” She chuckles. “You were terrible to her.”

“I know.” Lio cringes. “I’m trying to make up for it, okay?” He says as he takes the exit to head more east into town. 

They pull up to their airbnb, which is modern, but still a cozy cottage right on the ocean. They unpack their things, then walk into town to grab lunch at an all day breakfast diner. Lio needs a heavy, protein packed lunch with how hard he has been grinding this season.

“Did you come here as a kid too?” Savannah asks Lio as he looks over the menu in the blue booth.

“Yeah, but usually when we were with the Hischier’s. Mama and auntie had a hard time getting us all to behave when we were together, so we didn’t go to many upscale places.” 

“So basically you and Lucie would act out.” Savannah fills in the gap.

“Mack would too. She was wild as a kid. It wasn’t just us.”

“But mostly.” Savannah gives him a look like ‘don’t even pretend’. 

“Yeah, it was mostly us.” Lio laughs, then thanks the waitress for both of their coffees.

Lio nudges the bowl of cold cream packets towards Savannah. He likes this shitty, slightly burnt diner coffee black. A smirk stays on his lips as he reminisces on his childhood. He knows he is lucky to have grown up the way he did with such a strong family influence surrounding him. He opens his fingers up towards Savannah, taking her left hand in his. He strokes along her massive engagement ring, satisfied with where their life is going. 

“I’m really happy, babe.” He murmurs to her, then drags his gaze up her body to her stunning blue eyes that still make his heart skip a beat when they’re looking at him. 

“Me too.”

“I can’t wait to marry you.” He smirks.

“Make an honest woman out of me?”

“I think by marrying you, I’m doing the opposite.”

“You’ve cleaned yourself up quite nice, Mr. Meier. I’m proud to be your wife.”

“Only cause I had a good girl on my side.” He strokes his fingers up her forearm, watching the goosebumps that form along her skin at his gentle touch.

“Maybe I’ll be your good girl tonight too.”

“Better be. Didn’t bring you all the way down here to not get lucky.” 

“You’ll be very lucky by the end of this weekend.” She assures him. She grabs his fingers, bringing his wrist up to her mouth. She kisses his pulse, then moves to the side so she can suck some of the meat on his arm into her mouth. 

“You don’t need to eat, right?” He asks her, eyes smoldering across the table like he wants to toss her over his shoulder and walk back. She chuckles.

“I assure you I am hungry.” Lio groans, but so does his stomach, reminding him of the fuel he needs to take care of her the way he wants.

With that in mind, they both order. Savannah gets a classic breakfast- eggs, bacon and a pancake- while Lio gets steak and eggs with a side of hash browns. As she eats her first few bites, Savannah’s mind wanders back to Lio as a child, running through this restaurant with his siblings and cousins, probably driving their mamas crazy. Savannah thinks about how wiggly and impatient Stella Wood has been since she met her. She laughs outwardly.

“What?” Lio asks around a bite.

“Just thinking about how crazy it would be if Stella and our kid was tearing up this place like y’all used to.” Lio pauses mid-chew, looking over his fiancé to check in on how he should react. “I’m okay that we aren’t going to have that.” She says to him truthfully. “I like quiet breakfast with you- here or in bed. And getting to take naps in the afternoons whenever we want to and changing plans last minute to fly somewhere for a two day getaway.” She takes another bite, then continues after she swallows. “This journey has been so hard, Lio. Really hard and a lot of it really is stemming from how bad the physical pain has been. It’s made the emotional pain that much worse.” He nods in understanding.

“It’s exhausting to be in that much pain, babe. Especially with how little the world understands about how debilitating internal conditions can be.” Lio certainly understands that after his past concussion issues.

“Yeah. I feel so at peace right now. I want to live in the joyful moments that we are having without the anger and frustration of the things we are never going to have. Living there means I won’t ever live comfortably in the present. I don’t want to miss a moment of our life because of things I can’t change.” Lio drops his fork, grabbing her hand again and giving it a squeeze.

“I love you, babe. I’m so inspired by you. The way you have been handling all this is admirable. I wanna be as resilient and reflective and accepting as you.” Lio murmurs, then kisses her hand. 

“I was none of these things before you.” Savannah tells him honestly. “You’ve changed me too, Lee.” He smiles, a slight tilt up to the right corner of his mouth. “I believed I was broken and weak. Through the last year, you’ve shown me how strong and whole I am by loving me in every moment, even when I didn’t want to love me. You didn’t advocate to those specialists because you wanted to fix me. All you wanted was to give me back the life Endo had been taking from me.” 

“You’re perfect, baby.” He reminds her as he always does. “All I care about is going through life with you by my side. Everything else is just noise.” 

Savannah grins, then releases his hand so they can both go back to eating.

“Good. Now hurry up and eat. I wanna be your dessert.” 

- - -

March 

“Brrr!” Savannah exclaims as her and Lio shimmy into the lobby of Lucie and Connor’s high-rise condo building in Greenwich Village. “It’s supposed to be spring.” She grumbles as Lio leads them to the bank of elevators. 

“Yeah, what the hell is that?” He mumbles, a shiver rolling his shoulders up tight towards his ears for a moment.

“We should go back to Florida. Sweating my ass off at Disney was better than this.” She mentions, referring to their Allstar vacation from last month with the Woods.

“Your hair was so cute down there. You should do it curly like that more.” He chuckles, throwing an arm around her waist to pull her in for a smooch. “Smelled like coconut every day too. Reminds me of the Bahamas.” Savannah moans in appreciation as Lio sucks a slice of her neck into his mouth.

“Now that was a good trip.”

“Kid free too.” He chuckles against her wet skin.

They love their niece, but having their vacation determined by her schedule is not Lio’s favorite way to unwind in the middle of the season. Savannah and Lio already decided they were going to do their own thing for next Allstar break, granted that Lio isn’t actually at the Allstar game next year. This year the festivities were in Florida, which allowed them for a few extra days in Orlando with the Wood’s. Next year is in Seattle. Not quite the same experience.

“The way Stella kept getting you to do the tea cups with her though. That was so cute, babe.”

“I still feel like I’m spinning from that. I don’t know how she was so normal about it.”

“Stella is always twirling around in her own little world. Of course she was fine!” 

The elevator opens on the floor of the Wood’s condo, so Lio and Savannah step out.

“Are Mack and David coming today?”

“No.”

“They hate us?”

“I don’t know. They’ve been shut-ins since Mack returned from Turcs.” Lio gives Savannah a look. 

“I want their life.”

“No you don’t.” Lio laughs. “They’re crazy.” 

They get to the familiar steel door. Lio knocks briefly before grabbing the handle, opening it and walking into the apartment.

“Uncle Lee Lee!” Stella screams as she launches herself head first into his legs. Lio braces himself, putting a hand where it is needed most to avoid the direct head butt to his jewels. 

“Stelly!” He shouts back, swooping her up once it is safe to do so. “How is my favorite Wood?”

“Annnnnnd no steak for Uncle Lee.” Connor jokingly notes at the door where he is wearing his heavy duty, canvas cooking apron. He adjusts the leather neck strap as the couple walks in.

“Steak, eh?”

“Big ol’ Porterhouses for us.” 

“Nice.” Lio grins, bumping knucks with him as he walks into the apartment with Stella. Savannah has already floated in, bringing the two bottles of wine in for her and Lucie to get started on. 

“Good! I brought red wine!” Savannah announces. 

“Can I have some?” Stella asks, never wanting to be excluded ever, even from adult things. Stella and Lio come to rest next to Savannah with Lio leaning a hip into the counter beside her.

“No, silly.” Savannah chuckles, swiping her index finger down the little girl’s nose. “But I did bring you a special drink too.” Savannah pulls out the pink lemonade from Trader Joe’s that Stella loves along with a glittery pink tumbler she had to grab for her from Target’s $5 section.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Can I have some right now?! Mommy please!” Lucie looks over her shoulder from where she is putting together the salad. 

“Sure, baby.” She agrees. 

“Luc, you are working so hard. You absolutely need wine right now.” Savannah exclaims.

“I’m sticking with water tonight.” Lucie chuckles. “But feel free to have a little extra in commiseration with all this hard work I’m doing over here.”

“Yeah, working real hard over here now.” Connor teases as he struts into the kitchen. He pats Lucie’s butt, then kisses her cheek until she turns to kiss his lips. They linger there together, smiling into their kiss like they’re the only ones here. “She forgot to mention the nap she was taking before you two said you were on your way.”

“I am doing important work, Cap.” Lucie swats at his hip as he walks away.

“Yeah, you were the one keeping Stella in line earlier, with drool dripping off your face.”

“Look, she mostly takes after you, so you should have to deal with her.” Lucie grabs the bowl, walking it over to the table. 

“Yeah, sure that rebel phase you had doesn’t show up in our daughter at all. Speaking of taking after me, we better get you into something more comfortable to eat. Otherwise we’re gonna spill all over this pretty dress, huh?” Connor says to Stella, picking her up. 

“No, I’ll be good!”

“You know the rules, baby.” Connor nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck, making Stella squeal at the facial hair tickling her soft skin. They disappear down the hall, Stella’s giggles following the entire way.

“So how are you guys?” Lucie asks as she washes her hands in the island sink. 

“Good! We’ve been busy.”

“I know! I can’t believe we haven’t seen you since Florida.”

“It has been crazy. I have had so many brand meetings and content to film. Plus, Lio was on the road for almost two weeks.”

“Do you miss it?” Lucie asks, walking to where the wine glasses rest in the bar by the dining room table. She comes back with a glass for Savannah

“No way. I like sleeping in my own bed way too much.” Savannah says after pouring herself a bit of wine. “Do you want some?” She asks her husband already knowing his answer.

“No.”

“Lee, do you even drink anymore?” Lucie asks genuinely.

“Not really.” Lio shrugs.

“He will have whiskey when we are out to a fancy dinner, but otherwise, no. I don’t even see you drink beer with your dad anymore.” Savannah says, rubbing at Lio’s back as she talks. He puts a hand on the back of her chair, enclosing her into his body, right where he likes her.

Out of her room, Stella comes running down the hallway to the three adults. Her dad trails behind casually with his hands in his pockets. 

“Look at me! Look at me! I have something to tell you!” Stella yells at her aunt and uncle. 

“Oh, well okay then.” Savannah laughs, turning her legs towards Lio to see her. Lio turns towards the little girl too, taking in her new outfit. She has on jeans, bright purple socks and a pink t-shirt with glittery, bold letters that spell out her new title: Big Sister.

Savannah freezes. Lio fingers drift from the back of the chair to squeeze her left shoulder, even as he grins down at their niece. A silent announcement that he is here for her in this moment.

“What does your shirt say!?” He exclaims. Stella screeches excitedly, then bounces up and down.

“BIG!!!!! SISTER!!!!!!” 

“And that’s you!?” He pokes her belly, making her collapse forward, hands on her belly button as she laughs so hard she can barely breathe.

“YEAH! Mommy is having a baby!”

Unexpected buzzing rings through Savannah’s ears as she attempts to stay grounded in the moment. Her hand falls from around Lio’s waist as he swoops Stella up onto his hip again, giving her a big hug. Savannah’s eyes trail away from Stella to Connor who is sharing an adoring look with his wife. Savannah turns to look at Lucie, the mom to be again, who is holding out an ultrasound picture to place in Lio’s extended hand.

And it hits Savannah all over again, as overwhelming as the first time she felt this.

Her and Lio will never get to have this moment in the other direction.

They will never get to hold up an ultrasound picture with their baby growing in Savannah’s body. 

They will never get to cheer and hug and cry excitedly with them about their baby. It will always be someone else’s. 

Never. Hers. 

A tidal wave of grief Savannah hasn’t experienced in a long time rushes at her. A sob gets caught in her throat. Stella looks over Lio’s shoulder at her, confused.

“Auntie! Did you see!?” Instinctually, Savannah nods, licking her lips. Her eyes drift to Lio and there it is: the pity. And the worry. And the ‘are you okay?’ In his eyes that makes her want to throw up. She looks away quickly. 

“I’m…” Lucie starts then fades off, looking at Lio with concern. “I’m sorry, I know this is probably hard to hear for you. We wanted to tell you privately in consideration…”

“No! What? No, absolutely not! Please don’t apologize. I am so happy for you! We are so happy for you! That’s all I feel right now. So happy.” She finishes with a whisper, rounding the counter to give Lucie a hug. The two women collapse together. Lucie hugs Savannah hard, making it increasingly difficult for Savannah to keep all of her feelings locked away in her chest.

“You’re okay?” Lucie asks quieter, just between the two of them.

“Stop worrying about me. Congratulations! When are you due?” 

“September 3rd.”

“Long, hot summer mama.” Savannah smiles like she can relate somehow. But she can’t and won’t.

“Yeah. I didn’t learn from last time.” 

“How are you feeling?”

“I was so sick until about a week ago. Still tired though. And then as you saw, I have the best support system in my husband, so loving and wonderful, as he makes fun of me for it!” Connor laughs.

“You know I’m teasing you, baby.” 

“I grow his child; he gives me crap for sleeping…” Lucie smirks, watching as Connor narrows his eyes at her.

“You know I take care of you.” He says, pressing his palms flat on the stone of their kitchen island. He sets his gaze on her, challenging his wife to say otherwise in front of company. 

“Yes, you do. Couldn’t do this without you.” She murmurs truthfully. 

“I should have brought champagne.” Savannah says, then looks down at her glass of red wine to continue collecting herself. 

“How about when she is born you bring me some in the hospital? Sneak it in for me.” Lucie smiles assuringly at her. 

“Another girl?” Lio gapes at Connor. “You are so fuc- well you know what.” Lio corrects himself to avoid having to pay up to Stella’s Swear Jar. Connor widens his eyes and nods. He holds up two fingers then circles towards Lucie. Yeah two Lucie’s will be an exciting life for the Wood’s.

The group moves forward, discussing the various topics that come up when you find out a new baby is joining the pack. Mack, David, and Sophie don’t know yet, so Lio and Savannah agree to keep it quiet until told otherwise. Savannah tries to participate in the daydreaming about what is to come for their little family, but her heart isn’t in it.

It’s on the floor, shattered like glass, ready for another round of glue and duct tape whenever she can gather the courage to put herself back together again.

[changingplumbob]

Foster Household: Chapter 8, Part 6

Carson continues his appointment after which he and Kayleigh meet up with friends for dinner.

Low level content warning: discussions of anxiety disorder

Carson: I guess... the asthma has been harder than I thought

Dr H: How so

Carson: Well it seemed to just come out of nowhere. I’ve got this inhaler for asthma attacks but I don’t think I’ve had one yet. I still keep it on me, just in case. I get worried about what could set it off

Dr H: And how do you cope with that worry

Carson: Not well I guess. But I can look after myself. I have a whole cleaning routine for my room to keep it dust free

Dr H: Tell me about that

Carson begins to explain the process he does to clean his room, when he wakes up and after dinner, just to be safe.

Dr H: Can I ask, what would happen if you didn’t do this

Carson: Well there’d be dust and it would make me have an asthma attack which would probably hurt a lot if it didn’t kill me

Dr H: Okay. Now when you’re outside of your room, how do you feel about the asthma triggers then

Carson: Home isn’t too bad, mum makes sure it’s vacuumed for me. And most of the places at school are okay, at least first thing. Mrs Tinker, my teacher, told me that cleaners come every night at 6. They wipe everything down and vacuum. But by the end of the school day I get worried about the dead skin in the air though. Like how much will actually end up in my lungs

The conversation continues with Dr Hanks asking more about Carson’s routines and his worries. Kayleigh sits through as best she can, trying only to say things when she’s asked, or if Carson looks to her for support. She’s a bit shocked to learn how much he actually does to try avoid asthma attacks, not all of them logical choices. All her kids have tended to be academically gifted so when she hears Carson is doing things that would have no actual impact on an asthma attack she does wonder where the behaviour has come from.

Dr H: Thanks for sharing all of that Carson. I know it’s not easy to talk to a stranger about inner thoughts

Carson: It’s tough. I just… I guess I don’t want to be worried about asthma attacks all the time

Dr H: Based on today it does appear that you have developed an anxiety disorder. In particular I believe you may have OCD. Do you know what that is?

Carson: It’s like when you need everything to be neat?

Dr H: For some. Those with OCD, obsessive compulsive disorder, often find themselves developing obsessions or compulsions which they use to manage their anxiety. While it may work in the short term, it’s not healthy in the long term

Carson: So I’m broken

Kayleigh: He didn’t say that honey

Dr H: I don’t think you’re broken. I think you just need some extra help, we all need extra help from time to time

Carson: Can you get rid of it

Dr H: Psychological conditions are complex. They’re not like a tumour which can be cut out. What we need to do instead is work on strategies which will help you cope with the anxiety in a safer way that does not interfere with your life as much, so that you can enjoy life. We have a few options to help. One, which I would highly recommend, is going to therapy

Dr H: Talking through the anxieties can often help minimise the danger they present, and lesson the compulsions. However if your mood is already off balance I would suggest also starting on some medication to get you in a better headspace before starting therapy. How does that sound

Carson: Yeah, I mean… if it’ll help

Dr H: Now these medications can have side effects, and will take time to build up. Your medical insurance should help with the cost of them though

Kayleigh: Cost doesn’t matter, whatever he needs

Dr H: *smiles* I shall refer you to a therapist then, and send a script to the pharmacy for you to collect. We should meet up again after you’ve done that for a while to see how it’s affecting you. Does that sound okay Carson?

Carson: Do I… do I need to tell people

Dr H: Entirely up to you, perhaps it’s one of the first things you could discuss with the therapist. Do you have any other questions for me

Carson: Mum?

Kayleigh: How long until he can see a therapist

Dr H: It will take some time to match Carson with someone who specialises in OCD, more and more sims are needing our services lately, but you should hear from someone with an appointment in the next few months

Carson: Why do I feel like I need a nap

Kayleigh: You’ve had a big day, exams and then Dr Hanks. Are you sure you still want to do dinner

Carson: Yeah but… I probably wont tell them much until I’ve seen the therapist

Kayleigh: We will need to tell your dad, but apart from him it’s your health. You choose who you do or don’t want to know

Carson: So Charlie and Keira and…. Reece don’t have to know

Kayleigh: Not if you don’t want them to honey

Carson: Thanks mum, seriously

For dinner Carson and Kayleigh head to the Sulani Restaurant built by EA ID: VeronicaDumm. Onyx is here with their mum Eliza, Bob has opted to stay home and watch Fergus since Harvey won’t be there. Darwin and William are also invited to celebrate surviving the exams.

Kayleigh: Can we have a table for six please

Server: Mrs Foster? Of course! If you follow me we have a lovely table up here with the best view of the ocean… and the kitchen

Darwin: So bro how’d it go

Carson: Well they concluded I’m alive

Onyx: always nice to know

Carson: The dude we saw was pretty nice

Kayleigh: He was. Very good listener

Eliza: That’s good, our kids deserve proper care

Darwin: Did he like totally shrink your head

Carson: Does my head look smaller than normal

Darwin: It’s not a great light

Carson: *laughs* It was actually not stereotypical

Jimin: What can I get you to eat

Kayleigh: Oh I would love some Kalua pork, is that on the menu?

Jimin: It certainly is Mrs Foster

Eliza: I know we’re in Sulani but I don’t know about pork

Jimin: The chef does a fantastic Island Vegetable Feast if that would be more to your taste

Eliza: Yes thank you

Carson: And we’ll all have nectar

Kayleigh: We will not. Eliza and I can drink but the rest of you 14 year olds get rootbeer floats

There’s general grumbling from the kids but can’t be bending nectar rules when at the table nearby is top prosecutor Aaron dining with cop Amabel. They’re just tying up the case against Liam, Aaron would not be stepping out on his wife I promise.

Darwin: Go back to what you were saying Carson

Carson: Oh yeah so I was totally expecting some long as couch and an old white man telling me to close my eyes and imagine my childhood

Kayleigh: *laughs* luckily we didn’t get that

Eliza: No couch or no old white guy

Carson: Both. He was maybe 30’s and black. He did have three couches, but they were all short, I wouldn’t be able to stretch out on one

Onyx: But what if you really needed a nap

William: Nap before you go Onyx

Onyx: Don’t confuse me with your logic

William: Did it help

Carson: Yes, it did. He thinks it would be good to go see a therapist for a bit

Darwin: Makes sense. Oh yes! Food! Finally!

The various drinks and dishes arrive and everyone seated has a moment as they get excited about the food.

Eliza: Maybe I shouldn’t eat it all. I’m sure Bob would like to taste some

William: Thanks for getting us all dinner Mrs Foster

Kayleigh: You’re very welcome William

Eliza: Have you heard how your exams went yet

Carson: I did well

Darwin: Me too which is weird because I didn’t study

William: No, you just copied everyone else’s work

Darwin: Po-tay-toe po-tah-toe

Onyx: I did good mother so a horse-

Eliza: Yes but Onyx you did just get detention

Darwin: Don’t blame them Mrs Pancakes, Mr A was being Mr Arse that day

Carson: He gave me detention to

Onyx: See mother I told you

Eliza: *sighs*

Darwin: I better get home or my mums will wonder if I got killed

Everyone thanks Kayleigh and begins to head home.

William: I told you you’d be fine in the appointment

Carson: Yeah, it definitely helped. And who knows, therapy could be good

William: Well if you can’t talk to them you can always talk to me

Carson: Thanks Will. Hey is this an okay light for a selfie

William: You look great

Carson: Knew it

Kayleigh: Harv, we’re home! Are you-

Harvey: I’m here, I’m here

Kayleigh: Oh you do not look good. Did you rest properly today

Harvey: Of course I did. But then my muscles got stiff so I thought I should have a swim

Kayleigh: *sighs* That’s not going to get you better

Harvey: No but you’re going to get me better *kisses cheek*

Kayleigh: Did you get my text? I didn’t want to call in case you were napping

Harvey: I did, OCD huh

Kayleigh: Yep. But he doesn’t want to tell anyone about it just now so no blabbing

Harvey: I won’t, I won’t. Thanks for taking him,  wish I could of but-

Kayleigh: But you’re sick and need to rest

Harvey: Yeah. I think I’m getting better though, it’s just rough

Kayleigh: I know we can hardly call 11 an early night but let’s go sleep huh

Harvey: Yeah sleep sounds great sugar

This concludes the Foster chapter. Keira and Marta are here for now but next rotation will have their own home. Harvey and Kayleigh sleep and dream of retirement while Carson dreams of a clean room.

Previous ... Next (Nishidake)

[heavyhitterheaux]

Jack x First Lady : Final doctors appointment with the babies 🥺

warnings: mention of a miscarriage

Jack was holding your hand and you squeezed it a little tighter once you saw the babies pop up on the screen as your OB/GYN was doing your last ultrasound before the two of you would meet them.

“And there they are!”

“Does everything look okay?” You quietly asked hoping for a good answer.

Throughout this entire pregnancy, the word miscarriage had been steadily in the back of your mind no matter how much you tried to block it out. You never brought this up to Jack because you knew it was probably in the back of his mind too.

Going from losing one to now having three was definitely a surprise. 

“So for baby B, he’s a little smaller than expected. But we already discussed since they’re being born seven weeks early, they have to be monitored a bit closer after your c section to make sure everything is okay with them. But the last thing that I want you to do is worry. You two have done enough of that for now and you’ll be able to do that for the rest of their lives. Come tomorrow you’re going to be parents of triplets and the real fun begins.”

You were quiet on the ride home and when Jack stopped at a red light, he turned to see that you were looking straight on and silently crying.

“Baby? What’s wrong?! Why are you crying?!”

“I… I’m not sad. These are happy tears. I did it. I fucking did it.”

“Did what?”

“Carried three babies at one time to term, well to term as they're going to get, but… I… when I found out there were three of them…”

“I know, that was your first thought. A miscarriage happening again.”

“I knew my heart wouldn’t be able to take that and I knew that yours wouldn’t be able to either. I’m just really happy. They’re almost here. I’m a little scared for Axel, but I know who his dad is and the last thing that he’s going to do is give up.”

“Babe… they aren’t even here yet and you got me crying already.” Jack said as he quickly wiped his eyes so that they wouldn’t cloud his vision.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I don’t mean to! But Jackman… we’re about to be somebody's parents. For the rest of our lives. And I am TERRIFIED.”

“I think that’s how all parents feel, but we know that they’re going to be surrounded by love and we’re going to mess up. That’s a given, but as long as we learn from it and do better, we’re going to kill this parenting thing.”

“As long as I’ve got you by my side, I know that there’s nothing we can’t do together.”

“You’ve been my entire world since I was 14 and now it’s about to get a little bigger and I can’t wait.” Jack said while leaning over to kiss your forehead.

[runawaymun]

if nobody's been here yet I'm gonna be very cringe and on brand and ask about the Partake Prequel

also Rivendell's Tiny Tearaway sounds DELIGHTFUL

Ahhhh thank you!

Ask me about my not-yet-written-fics from this list

The Partake Prequel

(also if you wanted to know more about Rivendell's tiny tearaway just lmk I can make another post for that haha. But I am glad it sounds good!!!)

(cw: discussions of pretty abusive dynamics and questionable consent, also discussion of sex)

so this only exists in my head because a) I'm morbidly curious and have a fascination with the psychology of messed up relationships and b) I am a masochist.

I am just constantly thinking about how the fuck We Got Here when it comes to To Partake. Like how do things get to a point where it's this fucked up and messy and tangly and Bad?

and of course there are bits and snatches that are mixed in to Partake -- like little glimpses into the backstory of Elrond and Gil's situationship, but I want to know more specifically how we got to where we are now.

We know that Elrond started pining after Gil sometime in the late first age when he was roughly in between the age of fifty and seventy. Which...for a Peredhel is a perfectly acceptable age to be sexual (Elwing and Dior had kids and were married by 30). But from an Elvish perspective (i,e. Gil's) that's a baby.

Literally he does not think about anyone else. This is a somewhat unhealthy obsession already. There's a fealty-kink wrapped up in here somehow that's all messily combined with the fact that Gil is currently the only adult who is really present in Elrond's life (if we're going with ROP's timeline Galadriel seems to fuck off to hunt Sauron shortly after Morgoth's imprisonment in the void, and you know...Earendil is busy Earendiling)

So to start I don't think Gil even really saw anything with Elrond as being on the table until sometime in the very early second age, after he appoints Elrond as herald. It's unclear when this happened -- I couldn't find a date for it. But I presume it to be sometime after Lindon is founded and Mithlond constructed and certainly after Elros sailed for Numenor (Elrond would have been emotionally vulnerable and attached to Gil-Galad even more -- and in my head Elros would not have approved of anything going on between Elrond and Gil-Galad so that's very off limits until he's gone)

But--- with Elros gone indefinitely, yeah Elrond gets more attached to Gil.

They're still not sexual yet though.

Elrond is taking regular trips to Numenor etc.

So I generally imagine that things really Began between the two of them sometime shortly after SA 432, when Elrond is around 500 years old. He's "mature" at this point in Elvish terms, and Elros has just died -- so, unhinged and probably at one of his lowest points.

SEX CW: I have a VERY firm idea in my head which I was planning to make a oneshot of. But Elrond at this point does get Very Horny about Gil and starts masturbating about it sometime around here. Gil catches him and that's how....uhhhh things start.

Because OBVIOUSLY (Gil brain here) he is into Gil and THEREFORE this is a PERFECTLY NORMAL and FINE thing to do!

Plus he is OF. AGE.

Nevermind the fact that Elrond is incredibly unstable and vulnerable and depressed & still extremely young, completely inexperienced, and there's some really fucky power dynamics -- all of which affect his ability to consent properly to ANYTHING.

So that's how it starts. They just start having sex. I think nobody really knows about it at this point.

(we start with mostly just Gil on the receiving end of some oral sex that Elrond is getting rapidly better at)

Gil's the one to broach anything more than that and Elrond is down for anything as long as Gil is happy.

rumors do start circulating at this point but absolutely nobody is keen to confront them about it.

I feel like there's potential here for Galadriel to catch wind of things, directly ask, and for Elrond to deny absolutely everything.

If she asked Gil there's no way that he'd admit that anything is going on either because she makes him fear for his life haha.

Elrond has been actively suppressing links to Melian at this point because it freaks out most Elves -- and because Gil doesn't like it.

At some point Gil broaches-- and by broaches what I really mean here is tries (he doesn't ASK!!) an osanwe link. Likely either during or just after sex.

Elrond does not know any better and his brain is full of dopamine and he thinks this is AWESOME. The king wants to be EVEN MORE INTIMATE

boom osanwe link. Far more of an osanwe link than they ever should have had.

boom immediate dissonance which is painful for Gil and so he assumes it is painful for Elrond

Elrond has not had enough osanwe experience to know this is pretty insular to the specific way his and Gil's Themes don't mesh.

"Let me fix it ok?" "Oh god please fix it"

Also there's the undertone here of Gil doesn't like it and Elrond feeling the need to manage his emotions and divest himself of anything displeasing even if that's his fucking Theme.

Hence the theme fuckery begins.

And things really really really start to devolve with their relationship.

Like I imagine in the beginning Gil was pretty cautious and careful -- not in a lovey dovey way but he's not wholly inconsiderate and it's within his Partake characterization that he doesn't like to hurt his partner unless it's in a fun kinky way. He also does not get off on someone being scared. That's an ick for him. So initially he would be careful.

But Elrond starts getting really good at masking things and figuring out that Gil likes to be rough.

And of course, anything for Gil.

Do you see where we're going.

Well and it's compounded by the fact that Elrond does actually like it, too. It just scares him. So he as a lot of really confusing feelings going on that he doesn't know how to handle and there's also a lot of shame wrapped up in it too

And obviously Gil is not um. Guiding him through this in the way that a more experienced partner who is sometimes building scenes and domming should.

And again -- there's that messy thing of "I need to please you in absolutely every way possible and also clearly my differences are Bad, and therefore I must mask all of them as best I can and keep up with my work demands because being useful is better than being loved."

(Which is a lesson he learned from literally everyone, even Elros in the end. It is not a lesson that Elros meant to teach him. But Elros loved him. And then he left.)

Anyway that's as far as I've gotten. The beginning is much more specific and it gets more nebulous as we get closer to the Partake timeline, but it's very easy for me to see the trajectory of their relationship, and that's really what I want to explore.

OHHHH also the undertone of codependency because Elrond and Gil are both fundamentally isolated and find solace in each other. And Gil isolates Elrond further to ensure that He Will Not Be Left. Because Gil is afraid of being inadequate and has literally no one else except like, Cirdan, who cares for him so deeply. (I mean, he would. If he wasn't an asshole. But you get where I am going with this.)

Yeah. Sorry.

There is no happy ending to this fic it is just a dissection of how we get from point A to point B. The happy ending would be Partake alkdhg.

[lassieposting]

Fletcher for therapy please

Oh Fletcher would do great in therapy. Like, 10/10 client good job

It'd take him several years - and probably some prompting from Ghastly, whose opinion he respects - to get him to realise he should really go, largely because he's surrounded by a social circle that isn't very open to the concept.

When we meet Fletcher, he's a hurting teenage boy who badly wants approval from a role model. And while he does eventually get some good solid advice (as well as time and empathy) from Ghastly, that's only after he splits up with Val and feels like he has nowhere else to turn. Prior to this, he actually spends several years fruitlessly trying to win that approval from Skug. Which is a problem, because Skug isn't in the market for a surrogate son. He sees Fletcher primarily as a rival for Val's attention and secondarily as a nuisance, which leads to a situation where Fletcher is consistently trying to impress him and getting knocked back. And we see that Fletch remains selfconscious about Skug's opinion of him for years after he gives up trying to bond - he makes two really obvious attempts to reestablish their relationship on an even footing and remove himself from that subordinate clinger-on role (i.e. shaking hands as adults); he clearly expresses that he's not thought of or treated as part of the team; he knows he's Mickey to Skug's Doctor and Val's Rose. He's the tin dog.

And that's the thing: from what we see of Fletcher, he's actually very introspective. When he speaks to Ghastly, he's clearly done a lot of thinking about why and how his life has ended up the way it has. And he's done that all on his own, because who's going to listen to him?

So like. He's not going to ask Skug and Val to recommend a therapist. He knows exactly how they'd react. Skug is an incredibly macho manly man - Special Forces, law enforcement, and from a time before anyone knew or acknowledged that mental health was a thing - so he's fiercely adamant that he, traumatized as he is, doesn't need therapy (ha) and he's openly dismissive of the concept to Val. He'd laugh, or take the piss, or make a shitty little comment, and Val would laugh along with him because that's what they do.

But approval from Ghastly - who's equally macho, equally manly, but far more well adjusted - gives him the confidence to start thinking about it. And then after Moira tries to kill him, he actually makes an appointment.

A lot of Fletcher's issues come down to trust and abandonment. He has no dad. His mom died on him. He's been used and undervalued by Val and Skug and the rest of the gang for years. Val cheated on him. Reflectionie died on him as well. This is a boy for whom nobody has ever stuck around long term. A boy nobody has ever prioritised. And he has to learn to work through the negative impact that has on self-worth and self-esteem, and learn to stop Yes Man-ing Valkyrie and her friends and prioritise himself. And he wants a more normal life - Lardo makes him teach for some reason, I keep him with the Monster Hunters. So that means distancing himself from his ex and the people in her circle, even though he feels like they're all he has. He knows he'll never get to have that more normal life while he's hanging out with people who seem to attract trouble in various eldritch and evil forms. He has to learn boundaries - how to make and defend them. He has to learn to stop being drawn to girls he wants to save, and start looking for partners who are as mature and invested as he is. He has to completely relearn how to relate to others.

And like. He knows he needs these skills. He wants things to get better. So he goes to his sessions, he does his homework. He comes in with theories and suggestions and ideas.

His therapist loves him. Good job, Fletcher.

[crippleprophet]

hi i was wondering if you or any of your followers had tips for dealing with chronic muscle pain (specifically hip and knee).

nothing i’ve tried has seemed to help (pt, otc pain meds, ice, heat, rest, acupuncture, cbd lotion, epson salt baths, stretching). and i’ve peen told that the only pain meds that would help would be narcotics (which i can’t take due to family).

also everybody has seemed to circle back to “it’s because of your mental health that everything is shit”. and doctors refuse to do any tests past moving my legs around and poking at them.

so i will try almost anything. thank you

i’m so sorry you’re dealing with this, i have chronic muscle pain & i know it can easily be so debilitating. regardless of whether there’s a relationship with stress or whatever, your physical symptoms should still be fucking treated! the abject cruelty of not managing your pain aside, it’s almost like it’s harder to handle mental experiences when you’re in pain all the time… you don’t deserve this bullshit & i’m really sorry 🖤

i am suspicious of your being told that only narcotics would help tbh — i don’t doubt that many folks need narcotics to effectively treat their pain, & opioids have definitely been the most effective treatment for me when i have access to them (although more for nerve stuff than muscle) but there are definitely medications you haven’t been offered yet that might be helpful.

idk if you suspect that your muscle pain may be related to chronic illness but my muscle pain (including what was dismissed as untreatable fibromyalgia symptoms) improved dramatically when i got on an immunosuppressant (hydroxychloroquine in my case). if you haven’t gotten a basic rheumatology blood panel done by your GP it could be worth a shot as my elevated inflammatory markers led to that prescription even though i’m definitely underdiagnosed.

i’m also like, really pissed nobody’s given you a muscle relaxer jesus christ. i’m on 4mg tizanidine from my PCP & it’s been immensely helpful for my muscle pain, i choose to take it probably once a week because it’s more effective at knocking me out all night that way lol but i also use it as a rescue medication when i’m having severe cramps. really helpful to just get a fucking break & some decent sleep every so often. in that thread i’m planning to ask about starting prazosin at my next appointment, it’s prescribed for nightmares (which i def have lol) but can prompt a certain level of muscle relaxation which is part of how it helps with sleep

idk if this is an option for you due to family etc but delta8 (weed equivalent that’s technically legal in the US) has been vital for managing my own pain. expensive as shit but so it goes.

idk if you already use a mobility aid or if that’s an option for you but it could be worth looking into! redirecting some of the force applied to your muscles might make things like walking easier or could help with balance if you experience sudden weakness / cramps.

super depends on your situation but it could be worth paying attention to your feet as well, getting plantar fasciitis house shoes vastly improved my knee-hip-back pain, knees in particular. mine was more joint related than muscular but from studying biomechanics it’s all interrelated & from my perspective anything that helps may make it a bit easier to keep going until you find a better long-term solution. so even if it doesn’t seem related to your pain if there’s anything that might make your life easier right now i encourage you to consider it!

other folks feel free to respond with things that have been effective for you! i really hope you find some solutions that make things more bearable for you 💓💓

[snail-studios]

OK I'm gonna send several asks about Orca OC because I've been thinking about several different ideas and I wanna separate them.

First, just some ideas to bounce names off you and see if you like any of then. Zora names are usually two syllables (sometimes three), and carry something of a heavier vowel focus. Here are a few of the ideas that I think sort of capture a "Zora" vibe and I hoped maybe one of them would get you going in the direction you want for the character.

Fura-- sounds like fury, just thought it was neat

Larunda-- straight up stole this name from a water nymph but it sounds extremely Zora-like. You could also go with its variant "Laru". Does come with the risk of sounding too much like the already existent "Laruta" though.

Sera/Sela-- tweaked version of French word for "salt" because she's from the sea

Saumi/u/a-- brackish

Nevi-- tweaked version of Italian word for "snow"

Padot-- just threw together a bunch of Zora names for this one.

Hope these help to some extent.

ahh these are great! (I'm just going to put all of your asks in one post so not to spam anyone)

long answers below ⤵

Would she mop the floor with Link in a spear on spear sparring match?

It really depends. I would say she would beat him out of brute strength but Link can parry lynels, so he’s definitely monstrously strong. But she’s been training with the spear her whole life and can probably outwit him by making him angry, as long as she doesn’t lose her temper herself. I think in a no holds-barred fight she could kill him though, and post-Calamity Link when he’s just woken up wouldn’t stand a chance even if all the odds are with him.

Do you reckon she's on par with Mipha and the other Champions in terms of martial skill, or perhaps just exemplary among the Zora (but not close to a Champion), or was her appointment more of a formality like Urbosa's guards would have been?

Give her another century or 50 years of training and she absolutely would be, but pre-Calamity she’s more of a formal knight there for when Mipha’s unarmed or in a vulnerable position (resting, in unfamiliar environments, stuff like that.) I don’t think she’s like Link with Zelda and trailing her 99% of the time because that’s not even necessary for a warrior as skilled as Mipha. (Mipha’s probably an even better fighter than her knight but it’s always good to have extra support)

What are her chances against a Lynel?

She could kill it! She’s pretty big and strong so she has a higher chance of living than Mipha and Link fighting one together.

A Guardian Scout?

She’s mortal, so a beam could probably take her out, but if she got it onto the ground she could probably dismantle it fairly efficiently.

How many Moblins could she take on at once?

Realistically, probably three or four, given she’s a big target and fairly slow compared to Mipha, who I can imagine being able to take on around five or six. Together they could probably kill at least 15 tho. Teamwork makes the dream work! <3

You've already given a snapshot of what her relationship with Dorephan, Link, Mipha, and Muzu would look like, but what about her reputation/relationship with Zora's Domain as a whole? We know Link finds her intimidating, and strangers likely do too, but would the citizens of Zora's Domain feel that same intimidation or something else? 

I think it depends on the Zora! The little kids would love her, since she’s friendly to them, but one of Mipha’s suitors? Or just a scab in general (or a rude tourist)? Yeah they would be terrified. She’s not someone to be immediately unfriendly but she doesn’t like rude people.

Do they perhaps look up to her, or think she's some really cool lone wolf type?

Some people would absolutely think of her as a lone wolf, but the people who actually know and spend time with her just think she’s a nice and respectful person. Little Zora and other knights look up to her. The little Zora think she’s cool, the other knights hope they can rise to a rank like hers one day.

 Do they gossip about her and Mipha? 

Oh absolutely xD Being a public figure like that, there’s no way they’re not getting gossiped about.

Does she have a Sidon style fan club? 

I WANT HER TO OMG

Is this emotional toughness a Link-specific problem due to jealousy? 

Yeah, I think so. She also worries that people don’t believe she’s fit for the job, so acts exceptionally tough and professional around people she’s insecure around.

I get that she has something of an aura of scariness, but I guess I'm curious about the particulars. Is she scary because she's the quiet, reserved, unreadable watchdog kind of person? 

She’s very much like a watchdog at times and can be quite unreadable, but most people fear her because of her stature and battle prowess. 

Is she easily nettled and perhaps overly forceful and aggressive like Buliara is?

No, not at all. She used to be when she was younger, but learnt that’s not helpful to anyone and just makes her charges uncomfortable.

 Is she one of those people you can clearly see planning how she would dismantle you on your very first meeting? 

If you’re a threat, yes. If you’re just a mildly annoying person or are acting normal and like you have no tricks up your sleeve, probably not.

She'd probably bite her tongue .3.

[writing-whump]

There is no hurry

Anneliese helping Julian part 2

Anneliese brings Julian to her apartment, worried about him. Continuation of this part. Warning for vomiting. 

----------

Julian didn’t seem to notice they weren’t going to his dorm room until the car stopped.

He blinked sleepily at Anneliese. “Where…?”

She bit her lip. After half an hour of debating in her head, she decided to take Julian to her apartment. As a university assistant, she had a pay and as an Erasmus student she had the right for the limited apartments at the university campus. Which meant she had a real student apartment for herself and her roommate, with two separate rooms, their own kitchen and - the most relevant in this case - their own bathroom.

Anneliese could not, by good consciousness, let Julian go back to the dorms, suffer that crappy small bathroom and be alone. Not in this state, not since he appointed her to be in charge.

Aside from the whole confusion Julian not wanting to see Ryan - how was that even supposed to work, when they were roommates? - it seemed unlikely he was home. Otherwise he would already notice Julian was missing and would be hunting him down.

So Anneliese put her long wavy hair up in a bun, circled the car and made a decision. Penn was visiting her family during the weekends anyway and if she got back, as much as Anneliese probably shouldn’t be inviting sick guests, no one could deny Anneliese her room.

She opened the door on Julian’s side, offering her hand. “Come on.”

Julian was still blinking uneasily, but didn’t protest, taking her hand. Wrapping her arm around his waist, they stumbled out of the car and towards the elevators that Anneliese really came to appreciate at that moment.

Locking the door open with Julian swaying beside her turned out to be a bit of a challenge that made her perfect her skill in one hand key turns. Julian all but crashed into the couch near the door, relieved to finally be able to lie down on his back.

“You could have just taken me home,” he protested half-heartedly, shrugging off his jeans jacket.

“You could just say thanks,” she answered, dropping her handbag and rushing to change clothes. Her suit jacket wasn’t exactly a good match for this situation.

She returned to Julian in record time, bringing a thermometer, wash basin, wet towel, herbal drops,...

“You are stocked like a doctor,” Julian said, raising an eyebrow.

“My biggest fear about this whole exchange programme and visiting another country away from your whole support network was getting sick,” she admitted as she collected all the things on the small living room table. “Get this under your arm. It’s old-fashioned, but I don’t trust the digital playthings they sell as 'exact' one bit.”

Julian smiled at that and obeyed. “You must be the only person I know who prefers analogue over digital.”

“Pff. The term analogue was made after the term digital. As a way to distinguish new technological devices. I will let you know, CDs were considered digital just a few decades ago.” She put the wet hand towel to his cheek, wiping the sweat and dried drool away.

Juls furrowed his eyebrows at that, then sighted and leaned back into the couch, giving up on understanding it. “One of these days, you gotta explain to me again what exactly you are studying.”

“I will, once your fever goes down,” she said, appreciating the effort. Most people didn’t understand what cultural studies were after hearing the word. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better. Been worse.”

“Not very helpful. Try to be more specific,” she chided, sliding the towel down his neck and taking the thermometer out. He seemed so hot to the touch, but his fever wasn’t high. Just slightly raised.

“Stomach hurts. Head hurts. Life hurts. What else is new.” He kept his eyes closed as he spoke, one hand sliding to his stomach. It was pretty quiet in contrast to the previous churning. She had high hopes for it.

“You think you could keep some of this water down? Electrolytes against dehydration,” she offered him the glass. Julian didn’t move to rise from his lying position, his face scrunching up.

“Ugh. Don’t think so.”

“I get it. But just a few sips would really help you.”

He wrinkled his nose, but obeyed. Gingerly, he took the glass and took a couple of very small, slow sips. “That’s gotta be enough. I don’t want to give my stomach more ammunition.”

She shook her head, but accepted the glass back. “Fine. Try to get some rest then. I will wake you up in a few, to make you drink it more.”

A corner of his mouth pulled up. “I’m counting on it.”

Anneliese chuckled at that. At least he trusted her with taking that responsibility on herself. Kind of cute.

Fetching her ereader, she settled for the armchair in the opposite corner to keep watch. If Julian drank the water and didn’t throw up until the evening, maybe she could send him home…or maybe better in the morning?

–

There wasn’t any warning.

One minute she was completely taken in by a new study she found, highlighting a good quote, and the next there was a high pitched retch piercing her thoughts.

No groaning, no churning, nothing. Julian was soundly asleep and then he was vomiting bile, violently.

Anneliese jumped from the armchair to his side. He was blinking rapidly, face scrunched up. His body spasmed again and his whole back moved as he heaved over the edge of the sofa. There was whitish watery bile on his hands and pooling down on the floor under him, but his body was still jerking.

She didn’t know where to put her hands, what crisis to address first. He was still heaving, like something took over his body and wrung him from the inside. Moving without his own volition.

“Okay. Okay. Breathe, Juls. Just breathe.” What else could she say?

He finally stopped, mouth hanging open, taking deep ragged laboured breaths. His eyes raised to hers in horror.

“Anneliese, I’m so sorry. I don-n’t- don’t know what happened, I-I-suddenly-” he coughed and gagged, balling his hands into fists, but nothing came up.

“Pssshh. It’s okay. You are okay.”

“-s not okay.” He was on the verge of tears.

Anneliese grabbed the hand towel, almost dried by this point and quickly wiped his hands and chin clean. There was a small pool of vomit on the edge, dripping onto the mess on the floor. His shirt would need changing too.

“This is nothing, Juls. You are going to be okay.”

Was he though? She was counting on his nausea receding after sleep, that she could finally get more water in him. What was his body even rejecting? He woke up so violently too, out of nowhere.

“I’m so sorry,” he whined. His breathing wasn’t slowing.

“Hey.” She took his face into her hands then, gently but firmly pushing both palms against his cheeks. “You are okay. You are sick, but you are okay. We can do this. Don’t stress about it.” Anneliese hoped it sounded as convincing to him as it did to her.

Julian’s hazy eyes focused on her and he gulped. She never watched his eyes from this close up. They weren’t just green, they had a deep sea hue to them. She stroked his cheek with her thumb. “Psshh.”

Julian shook his head, but his breathing slowed a little. He breathed in through his mouth and out his nose. Deliberate. Slow. Practiced.

“I’m not sick, Ann. I’m sorry.”

Anneliese blinked at him in confusion, but kept her hold on him. “Don’t be sorry. Just tell me what to do.” She didn’t really get it yet, but he seemed to know.

He leaned his head back and she let go immediately. Still not looking at her, he pointed at the towel discarded on the floor. “Please.”

She nodded and stood up, feeling better with something to do. When she brought a fresh hand towel soaked back, he gratefully took it, lying down again, spreading it over his forehead.

He curled up on his side, cradling his stomach. Confusion kept her rooted in place, before she jumped into action again, fetching paper towels to clean the floor with and then positioned the basin at the place. Maybe it could catch more if it was right under him.

She sat down beside Julian, patting the back of his leg gently. “Hi. Talk to me.”

“...Stomach still cramping hard.”

“The nausea still there?”

“A little.”

“How long since this started?”

Julian squeezed his eyes shut. “Didn’t eat breakfast. Threw up on the way to grab some lunch.”

“You felt bad in the morning already?”

“Just queasy. Happens after nightmares.”

Okay. She wasn’t sure what to do with this new information. Was he having bad dreams because of a bug starting or did he get sick because of the nightmares?

“Did you dream about something now?” Anneliese kept her voice hushed.

Something like a whine cough in his throat and he turned his face against the sofa completely. As if he wanted to dive into it and disappear.

“Juls.” She didn’t know what to say. What if this was more of a psychological problem? Hardly enough information for this, but it reminded her of the stress migraines and heartburn her mom had.

A groan escaped his lips and he curled up even more into himself. “Au.” He opened his eyes slowly, green blue glittering with rain. “I’m so sorry. It’s so lame to get this from over-stressing. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this.” He sounded angry at himself. By now he was just a shaking miserable ball on her couch, all long limbs and lean muscles jumbled together.

She wasn’t sure what she was allowed to ask. So many questions, but non felt not inquisitive. Where’s the line with knowing someone for a few weeks, inviting him home for an emergency and finding out he is stress puking? “How... often does it happen?”

“Not that often anymore. I thought maybe it wouldn’t…”

“Still nothing to apologise for, Juls. I’m glad you aren’t sick at least.”

He scoffed, pulling his arm over his forehead. “At least that would have been outside of my control. But this? This is just stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to be stressed out and I don’t think it’s in your control either. Our bodies are strongly connected to our emotions. It catches up to everyone, one way or another.” She resumed patting his leg gently. “Anything else I can do? Hot water bottles are real good for cramps if you want some…”

Anneliese wished she could offer something more. She knew her mother’s life from the inside out. She knew exactly what emotion, what event, what crisis could trigger a headache, what would make her upset. Many times she talked her out of some. Many times she guided her through them. She felt like she could help more, if she just knew more.

He shook his head. “I should go home.”

“You can stay here as long as you like.”

“Well. It’s not like I can spare you the nasty sights anymore.”

His jacket vibrated then. She looked up to the chair at the table she threw it over. Someone was calling him.

“No. Don’t,” he said, as she started to get up to bring it over. “I know who’s calling.”

Ryan?

“You should let him know where you are. He could be worried,” she offered, keeping her voice soft and careful.

Julian shook his head again. “He will just want to come pick me up. Make a big deal out of it.” He curled even more into himself.

And that’s bad, how? She wanted to ask so badly, but didn’t feel like it was her place.

As pitiful as Julian looked, all shivering and curled up on her couch, his sea blue eyes watched her with surprising intensity.

“Alright.” She raised her hands in surrender. He relaxed visibly at that, unwrapping himself. One hand travelled to pillow his head and one to loosely lie on his stomach.

“Thank you. Can you just…stay here until I fall asleep? I swear I will sleep this off and leave you alone in an hour or so.”

She sighted and sat down on the floor, leaning her back against the couch. “Of course. There is no hurry.” Why did she feel so protective of him, when he looked like that? All soft and vulnerable and confusing, but with puppy eyes blinking sleepily at her.

He felt so close and so distant at the same time. One day I’m going to figure you guys out, I swear. 

[gillianthecat]

I had the vet put down my older cat today, the one I call Big Fat Tuxedo cat on here, though he had gotten very skinny. He was 18. I got to hold him as he passed.

A month or so ago he had blood tests that indicated heart problems and hyperthyroidism. And then he and Gillian the Actual Cat picked up a cold, probably from the boarding place, and while Gillian is fine, just sneezing a lot, I guess Big Fat Tuxedo cat's inmune system couldn't cope. He stopped eating and drinking, got very lethargic and started hiding himself away, including not coming home for 36 hours. He was scheduled to have an x-ray for his heart today anyways, but when I took him in the vet said he had developed pneumonia and was very concerned. She said I could put him on IV and antibiotics, but he was unlikely to get better in the long term, and she recommended putting him down.

It was a hard decision. I don't like having the power to decide life and death. And there were so many what-ifs running through my head: what if I had cleaned my place enough that I could have the cat sitter come instead of taking them to boarding. What if I'd taken him to the vet right away when I started getting sick last week, or at least on Saturday. What if the treatment would have worked, and he would have had a reasonably healthy 5+ years left in him?

I may have made a different decision if he'd gotten sick in three weeks, once my semester was over. Does that mean I just let him go for my convenience? Because I didn't know how I would manage taking care of him and taking him to the vet while finishing up classes and exams? I do feel some guilt over that choice. And guilt over the relief of not having to fit in his already scheduled vet appointments into all the studying I needed to do.

But perhaps the vet was right, and any treatment would just have prolonged his suffering. Eighteen years is a good long run for a cat, even if he could have lived longer.

They let me spend time with him in the exam room, and I held him for a little bit, then he wanted to go back in his carrier and lay there. He was clearly so weak and unhappy. They put in an IV port, then let me hold him in my arms as they gave him the sedative and the euthanasia drug. It was very fast acting, died almost immediately. They let me stay with his body for a while before they took him away to be cremated. I elected to have him as part of the communal cremation, rather than I private one where I could get his ashes. He'll be comingled with other pets I'm sure he would have hated in life, but maybe he'll make friends after death.

I'm back home and Gillian the Actual Cat has been cuddling on my lap.

Here's the Big Fat Tuxedo cat as a young lad of 15:

And here is my green-eyed boy at 13. I don't have that many pictures him; I tend to take very few pictures in general. He's much cuter in real life.

[queenofzan]

had a wild experience with my doctor visit yesterday

So my GP is a man I actually followed from the last clinic he was at, where I had been getting care for like. Nine years. I still go there for like, gynecology, because there is a nurse/midwife there whom I would die for, but I only have to see her like every five years or whatever. I had in fact only seen Dr. Brown twice before I followed him to the other clinic lmao, but both of those experiences were like. Honestly excellent. I think he was the first doctor I ever saw who spontaneously asked for my pronouns before I was out or started T, like. This was part of his introduction to a new patient was giving his name and pronouns and then asking mine, bc the paperwork didn't. Wild shit.

He was also the doctor I saw when it had been five weeks and I still had COVID symptoms, and he was very nice and wrote a letter that I should not have needed for my shitty ableist program.

Like, I've seen several other doctors at that clinic, but never really liked any of them that much? I didn't really click with Mom's doctor, and I was not about to start seeing the doctor who doesn't listen to her unless I'm in the room, even if she does seem to like me.

Anyway, like, this is a doctor I really like, for many reasons. The only reason I initially didn't see him again after the first time was because I was like, a male doctor? Who sees men on purpose? But like. Gaining more weight and getting more visibly trans it's like. Yes I would actually like the large man who did not bring up my weight or make weird remarks about my gender, and somehow immediately diagnosed my migraines as allergies and was correct, thank you.

But this visit on Thursday, there was a student doctor with him, and she was the one to do the first part of my visit, and like. Jesus H Christ it's night and day with these people. She didn't ask very many questions OR listen to my whole explanation, regurgitated textbook information that I KNOW was textbook information because I did research on my symptoms and the treatments for it before I even made the appointment, and was just like. Recommending lifestyle interventions like eating around acidic foods. Which I've been doing...for ten years....Not helpful. But she was still going to give me the meds I figured I needed, so like, I was going to just zone out and deal with it.

At the end Dr. Brown stepped in again and was like, hey here's some information (confirming my suspicions) that was, IMO, clearly drawn from actually listening to me, and also, here's a fun fact about testosterone and the medication we're giving you, the t has a protective effect against the negative side effects! So hopefully you will have an even better outcome than most people.

And like I said, I've seen him like. Three times. Only once did we go over my family history, and I don't think Mom's probable GERD was included then. But I said I'd been dealing with heartburn for a while, and Dr. Brown was like, "How long did you say you'd been dealing with this?" (I didn't say specifically; she didn't ask) and then was like, yeah, you're probably going to end up on this medication long-term, just shoot me a message via mychart and we can schedule an endoscopy so we can keep an eye on any potential side effects moving forward, no need to come back in, just keep taking them.

This was like the five minutes at the end of the visit! And it demonstrated so much better listening and understanding of his patient!

Anyway. Nothing like having a "typical" medical experience to make you appreciate how good your doctor that you specifically followed to a new practice is.