#who have to stay on medications that don't work or make them worse for months till their insurance lets them try a different medication

[mrdragonageherself]

I hope whoever snitched on my man Luigi stubs their toe every other day for the rest of their life and that they are always sick but never sick enough to be able to use their health insurance.

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 18- Master!Miguel x Maid!Reader

"Did you hear? Another maid got fired for trying to flirt with the master." One of the head maids whispered. Another sighed,

"That's five this month. When are these young girls going to learn?"

"What about (Y/n)? She's been here for a while, has she made any comments about our master?"

"Thank goodness no. She is so focused on work that the poor girl might never get a boyfriend!"

        You frowned as you listened to the head maids chatter. You moved away from the wall you were hiding behind. You had no choice but to focus on work because of your bills. It would be a lie if you said you were not interest in the master of his household. Your master, Miguel O'Hara, was a wealthy man who always disappeared for business work. No one questioned anything. You were all hired to keep his mansion clean and tidy.

        Your job was to clean the main dining room. Due to other young maids, no one but the head maids were allowed to clean the master's bedroom. It was too dangerous. It was obvious as to why. The master was tall, toned and handsome. The only time you truly got to see him was when he returned home. Everyone in the mansion greeted him. You always tried to glance at him any other time, but you were afraid of getting caught and fired.

        A soft sigh escaped your lips as you thought about what the head maids said. You wanted a boyfriend, but it felt impossible. Every time you went on a date, something would happen to the person you were seeing. You started to wonder if it was you. As you walked down the hall, you heard a low grunt. Confused, you followed the strange noise and stopped in front of your master's room. You were told to stay as far away from here.

"Um, M-Master, are you okay?" You hesitantly asked, more worried about getting fired.

        It went silent. Taking a step back, you looked around to make sure no one saw you. Perhaps now would be best to leave? Right as you were about to turn your heel, the door opened.

"(Y/n)?" Miguel groaned lowly, leaning against the doorframe. You gulped, staring at him since he looked like he was in pain,

"Are you okay, master?" You asked.

        God, he looked so sexy. His shirt was undone, exposing his toned chest. Miguel was panting for air and sweat was rolling down his forehead. Realizing that your master was in pain, you immediately panicked.

"Master, shall I fetch you some medication? You don't look well," 

"It's just a headache," Miguel told you before sighing, "How are you with head massages?"

"Excuse me?" You were caught off guard by the question. Miguel faced you,

"Medicine won't work, but I'll be better with a head massage."

"Oh, um, I can try. If not, I'm sure one of the head maids ca-"

"I'm asking you. Not them."

        You flinched towards his demand. Agreeing to his request, you followed your master into his bedroom. The one place that all those other maids had failed to enter. You hesitantly followed him, taking in every little detail. The room smelled so good. Hopefully, this won't get you fired. You watched as Miguel laid against the couch, patting the space above his head. 

        You were nervous. What if you did a horrible job? Sitting down, you scooted closer and gulped as your master placed his head on your lap. He was so close! You inhaled softly before starting to rub your fingers against his forehead. You're watched enough videos, so hopefully you could copy what you saw. Hearing his rumbling groan, you bit your lower lip. God, he was so hot.

         Miguel groaned lowly as he relaxed to your touch. His headaches have been getting worse with his workload lately. That and the fact that you kept trying to date men who weren't good enough for you. With all the drama with other maids trying ti flirt with him, Miguel never had a chance to talk to you. You, the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on. You, the determined worker. You, the woman he wanted. Miguel was thankful that you passed by his door. This was pleasant.

"Is this alright, master? Am I doing okay?" You asked.

Master.

        That word rolled so nicely off your lips. Miguel lowered his hand to hide his growing erection. Oh how he wanted to hear you cry for him. To drill you with his dick as you called him, master.

"Si. I'm feeling better already," He lowered his voice.

        Miguel was just happy to have his head on your lap. Like a soft cushion. He needed you to keep visiting him. He may be the master of this mansion, but he was still a man. Closing his eyes, Miguel relaxed under your touch. He was going to get used to this.

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

        You tried to hide your smile as you hurried to Miguel's room with his dinner. Ever since he had you massage his head, Miguel had requested you to do for stuff for him. It made your heart flutter that you were getting close to him. All of the head maids shook their heads towards ypu getting cozy with the master, but hell! He requested you!

"Master! I've brought your dinner!" You chirped, knocking befoer entering. Miguel was sitting on his couch,

"(Y/N), you look awfully cheerful today." He said, adoring your smile. You placed his meal in front of him, "Do tell," Miguel loved to hear you ramble about your day.

"Well, I finally paid off one of my bills!" You chirped before hesitating, "That and...my last date asked me for another date. I was kind of wor-"

"Que?" Miguel stopped you in your tracks, "He asked for a second date?"

You could hear Miguel's angry tone, "Um...Yes?" You flinched as Miguel stood and approached you.

"You're not going out with him," He said firmly and stroked your cheek, "You're too good for him."

        That and Miguel was mad that the fucker dared to contact you again after he paid him. Miguel made sure to keep you single so that he could have you to himself.

"M-Master?"

        You glanced up at Miguel, leaning your head into the palm of his hand. They were so big and warm. You could feel your heart race as Miguel moved his hand to your waist. You could feel the tension. Miguel pulled you towards his bed and sat down. His grip still tight against your waist, your uniform blocking his touch.

"(Y/N), tell me what I am to you." Miguel's tone was needy. It made you melt.

"My Master."

"Mhm, you do as I say, right?" He started to draw circles around your waist, "You're not going to date anyone because you're going to be mine. Understood?"

"Y-Yes, Master," You bit your lower lip as he lowered you to his lap.

"I want you to take care of, (Y/N)." Miguel whispered in your ear, "Let me hear your voice."

        You started to tremble as Miguel stroked the outline of your dress. He leaned forward to kiss your neck, removing your collar with his teeth. You let out a small whimper as Miguel sucked on your neck. Heat started to form between your legs as you felt his erection grind against your panties. Tingles shot up your spine as your head flung back from pleasure. Miguel hummed, enjoying your body riding against his hips. Your damp panties starting to stain his pants.

        It was still not enough. You moaned lowly as Miguel brought his hand to your cunt, moving your panties aside to rub your folds. You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as you began to ride his hand. His long fingers teasing your entrance, making you clench nothing but air. His hot breathe against your ear as you whimpered from his teasing.

"You have to ask for it." He said with a smirk.

"P-Please, Master."

"That's right, keep begging me." You moaned as Miguel entered two fingers into your pussy, pumping them against your tight gummy walls, "Look at you, about to cum on your master's hand."

"Master~" You tensed as his fingers curled against your pussy, causing you to orgasm, "Hah, Master!"

"Good girl, (Y/N). Always a hard worker," He praised, removing his hand to undo his pants, "Will you continue to work hard for me?"

"Yes, Master."

        You took a moment to catch your breathe as you positioned yourself above him. You moved his hand away from his cock, grabbing it instead. You were hesitant, but after seeing the lust in his eyes, you folded. Pumping his dick a few times, you cried out as he started to stretch your pussy. You were slow, but you kept going down on him, shaking from the intense feeling. Your hands rested against Miguel's chest, trying to finish putting his dick inside you.

        Miguel let out a grunt as he helped. He thrusted upward, causing you to cry loudly. His cock shoved so deep inside you that it made your vision blur for a second. He demanded that you move, to which to listened. Your cries became loud moans as you bounced on his dick. Your body leaned back as you rode him, pleasure overtaking you. Miguel held your waist, one of his thumbs rubbing your clit in the process. This made you cum again.

"Master!"

"Don't stop until your work is done," Miguel gave you an order.

        You whined, slowing down from your high. Miguel gripped your waist, rubbing your clit harder as he started to thrust. Your moans were music to his ears. No other man was going to have you. Not when you worked for him. Not when he was fucking your pussy this good. Changing positions, Miguel had your stomach against the bed, drilling you from behind. The strings of your maid uniform giving him even more of a high.

"Fuck, look at you taking your master's dick so well. Does it feel good? Being fucked by your master?"

"Yes, Master~! Please give me more, Master~!" You begged, gripping onto the bedsheets. Miguel pounded your pussy, making sure to fill you with his cum,

"You'll listen to your master's orders then, right? No dating anyone. This pussy is mine."

"Yes, Master!" You trembled as he kept slapping his dick into you.

"You're my personal maid. I'll take care of all your bills and you. You deserve everything, mi amor (my love)." He groaned, watching your pussy suck his dick more, "Fuck, you look so good with my dick in you. My perfect girl."

"Master!"

        Miguel had you working hard throughout the night. He made sure to take care of you and your issues. You were his personal maid, making sure to take care of all of his 'issues'. Eventually, you graduated from his maid to his wife. 

"C'mon, baby. Say it for me." Miguel groaned as he had you on your back, his dick pounding your pussy, "Just once more."

"Master~" You purred, arching your back as you orgasmed. Miguel moaned in response, giving you his fill,

"That's right, baby. I'm your Master."

[spicy-apple-pie]

HAAAAAPPY BIRTHDAYYYY 🥳🥳💖🥳🥳

also

HOLY VIKTOR SPICY, YOUR VISIONS ARE FIRE ASF

(Gimmeeeeee mooOOOReee)

well who am I to deny

I think you're referring to my post about Viktor and Jayce adopting Powder, so I'll share another vision bestowed upon me.

A couple of months after the three of them move into their shared apartment, Powder catches a cold.

It's not a bad cold, just aches and pains, sore throat, an icky cough, and a very mild fever. But the poor boys have no idea what to do and decide their best course of action is to take her to the emergency room. They don't even get triaged as the nurse kindly tells them to bring her home, give her lots of fluids and lots of rest. And if the fever gets worse, then to bring her in.

Jayce has to take care of Powder for the most part, as Viktor would rather not risk getting sick with his condition. Jayce is understanding and urges him to go into the lab to work while he stays home to care for Powder. Viktor agrees that would be best, but really he barely gets any work done. He stares off into space, worrying about Powder. In Zaun, such an illness can be deadly due to a lack of access to medical care. Especially for Viktor as a child. Logically, he understands that Powder a) doesn't have any underlying medical conditions and b) has better access to medicine, even if it's just over the counter cough syrup. But he still worries.

And Powder understands why Viktor is avoiding her. Jayce explained it fairly well. But up until this point, she's been pretty attached to Viktor. Jayce is... okay. He makes good food and carries her when her legs are tired. But Jayce doesn't really get it. Not like Viktor does. When Powder gets sad, she much rather Viktor's blunt honesty to Jayce's promises. Promises that she know are impossible to keep. But as she erupts into coughing fits that hurts her chest and brings tear to her eyes, Jayce rubs her back and tells her that coughing helps get all the mucus out. He makes her some soup, and she can tell how good it is, despite not being able to taste it. He presses a cool cloth to her forehead, and doesn't ask why that makes her cry so much. He hugs her tight as she cries out for Vi or Vander and doesn't ask who they are. He teaches her how to play poker and chess when she's bored. He helps her brainstorm new ideas for projects. And Powder thinks that maybe Jayce isn't such a pompous Pilty after all.

He still is, just not as much as she thought.

After Viktor deems her non contagious, they get take out and play poker together. Viktor wins most of the hands, Jayce scolds him for not letting Powder win a couple. Powder overhears and tells them not to let her win, she wants to win on her own. Viktor gives Jayce an "told you so" smirk and Jayce rolls his eyes.

[materia-girl88]

A Soldier's Treatment

18+, minors dni

Graphic smut, minor injury

You're Pepper Pott's little sister and you work for the medical team employed by the Avengers. Bucky, who you've had feelings for for a while, comes in with an injury. You make him feel better ;)

a/n: this is my first time posting one of my works, please be kind🥹

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You're shuffling around your office, putting away new supplies that had been delivered at the order and expense of Tony. Being one of the advanced trained nurses for the Avengers Medical Team, he was sure to always have your supplies well stocked. It probably also helped that you were his wife Pepper's little sister, meaning if he slacked off with getting supplies you needed, Pepper would be on his case.

As it was, you had finally finished putting away most of your supplies when there was a knock at your office door.

"Come in!" you called, turning to wash your hands, knowing whenever somebody knocked it was usually because they were in need of some type of examination.

And you were correct, as nobody other than Bucky Barnes himself came through the door, a slight grimace on his face as he held a towel to his forehead, the white fabric tinted with blood.

"Hey," he said, pausing in the doorway. "Just got back from a mission with Steve and Nat and I got a pretty good blow to the head. Care to check it?"

"No problem, just have a seat on the bed," you told him, nodding towards the medical cot as you began to glove up.

Bucky and Tony had finally come to an agreement that they needed to move on from their past. Tony understood that Bucky had been brainwashed, and Bucky apologized for him and Steve's actions, and from there Bucky was on his way to becoming an official Avenger.

He still felt the need to prove himself though, which ended up with him pushing himself too far on missions and returning battered a bit worse for wear.

It also didn't help that you had developed feelings for him during his time with the team, unable to stop yourself for caring for him as you watched him come out of his shell.

You gingerly pulled the towel from his forehead, apologizing softly as he hissed in pain.

"You need stitches, Buck" you told him, grabbing a suture kit and some gauze and antiseptic.

Thankfully he was tough, and soon the stitching was done.

"Just let me clean and bandage you and you'll be good to go," you smiled at him, wetting some gauze.

As you carefully cleaned the wound, you couldn't help but look at his face.

His eyes were lighter than they used to be, more alive. In the months that he's been with the group, not only has he overcome his brainwashing and is no longer triggered by the words that brought on the Winter Soldier, but he just seemed happier. Maybe it was his new lease on life, or having his best friend back. Whatever it was, you were glad to see it.

You didn't realize you were staring until he cleared his throat.

"Sorry!" you apologized, finishing cleaning the wound before placing a bandage over it.

A grin crossed his face, and you couldn't help the flush that spread on your cheeks.

"No need to apologize, doll" he said, eyes locked on yours, voice quiet and smooth as silk.

You moved to pull away and put your supplies away but were stopped at the feeling of hands on your waist, the cold metal of one of them being felt through the thin fabric of your black scrubs.

A small gasp left you and before you knew it, soft lips were being pressed to yours.

A quiet moan left you as your hands traveled up to tangle in his now short hair, careful of his stitches.

A moment later, you pulled away, eyes going back to lock on him.

"Bucky," you whimpered, hands sliding down around his neck.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that," he said, eyes exploring your face.

You couldn't help yourself as you pulled him back down into another kiss.

The two of you stayed locked in your embrace until Bucky couldn't take it any longer, standing before using the grip on your hips to turn and lift you onto the cot, his lips making their way to your neck.

A moan escaped you as you felt his stubble rubbing the sensitive skin there, knowing you'd be red and raw after. But you didn't care.

"Please Bucky, I wanted it too. Please fuck me," you whispered, head tilting to give him more access.

A growl escaped him and he pulled back before wrenching your scrub top off, taking your sports bra you were beneath it as well, tossing them to the side.

You raised a hand to your mouth, muffling your moan as he cupped your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples. The cold metal of his vibranium arm caused them to perk and he didn't hesitate in leaning down to take one between his lips, sucking until your body was tense as a bow.

You wrenched him back, bringing him back to your lips, kissing him while your hands went to his grey t-shirt, lifting it and tossing it with your clothes on the floor.

Your hands went to explore his chest, nails running over his pecs and through the light bit of hair on his chest, pink lines left in the wake of your scratching causing him to groan with a clenched jaw.

"I'm gonna ruin you, baby" he growled, pushing you to lay back on the cot as he grabbed your waistband, pulling your bottoms and underwear away in one move, not even giving you a chance to be shy as his hands went to your thighs and pushed them open, "I'm gonna eat this pussy til you can't take it anymore, and then I'm gonna fuck you til you scream."

Your head rolled back, a moan leaving you as you felt his lips begin as your sternum, trailing down, down over your bellybutton, stopping at your hip bone to leave a bite mark, and finally making his way to the wet slit waiting for him.

The first touch of his tongue was indescribable.

In truth, you'd only been with two other guys before him, and neither of them were anywhere near as exciting as Bucky.

His jaw, lips, tongue and teeth worked hard until you were shaking, thighs glistening with your arousal and red from his stubble.

"B-Bucky, please," you whined, your back arching as you struggled to keep your eyes open and on him, quivering as he stared back at you through his lashes as he worked.

Finally, just as you were on the brink of coming, he pulled away, causing you to whine and reach for him.

He grinned as he leaned over you, hands holding himself on the edge of the cot as he kissed you again, letting you taste yourself as your hand went to the buckle of his belt and jeans.

His cock was already rock hard, the tip red as you pushed his jeans and boxers down to his knees, and a grunt left him as you wrapped your hand around him, giving him a few strokes.

"I want this in me, Buck," you said softly, not breaking eye contact as you swiped your thumb over the head, collecting the bead of precum there. You swore you could hear his teeth creak with how hard he clenched his jaw.

"I'm going to ruin you for everyone else," he said darkly, coming to pull your hands away from him.

He gathered both wrists in his metal hand before holding them to the cot above your head, rendering you helpless as his free hand grabbed his dick, and he ran it over where you were wettest, using the arousal there as lubricant before he finally notched himself at your entrance.

Your breath mingled as you both let out soft groans at the feeling of him entering you.

He stilled for a moment, composing himself, before his hips began to move.

He didn't hold back, and before long the entire cot was creaking and shaking with the force of his thrusts inside you.

"Ah, ah, ah," you moaned, unable to help yourself, thankful Tony valued privacy enough to have soundproof walls placed in the medical bay.

While your arms were held prisoner, your legs were totally free and you wrapped them around Bucky's hips, holding him to you as he continued to send you into ecstacy.

He watched your body, eyes on yours at first until you couldn't take it any longer, head rolling back, and then he let them roam, watching where your breasts bounced with the forced of his thrusts and down to where the two of you were joined, your legs clinging to him as he disappeared in and out of you repeatedly.

"Fuck, doll, I wanna see you come," he groaned, and his hand that wasn't currently holding you down came between your legs where he was fucking into you, rubbing at your sensitive clit, causing your body to spasm. "I wanna feel this pussy tighten around me, squeeze my dick, and take my come"

That finished you off, a loud moan leaving you as you came, hips lifting from the cot as you spasmed.

The tightening of your walls around him sent him into his own orgasm, and you were thankful that you were on birth control as he spilled within you with a groan so sexy it threatened to get you going again.

He let out a breath once you both were finished, leaning down to rest his forehead against the sweat slick skin of your chest as he softened within you.

"Well, soldier" you said, coming up to run your fingers through his damp hair, a grin on your lips as you thought of what this may bring in the future, "I think you're gonna make a full recovery."

[the-fab-fox]

Just some stuff I'm dealing with that might put my aggressive-ish post about the hypocrisy/sexism (which I still maintain my stance, I just could have gone about it better maybe) into perspective.

Below the cut

My current living situation is hell. I moved in about a year ago this month (idr what day). Week 2 I called it. I was like I think both Clinton and Duffy (Michael) are transphobes. @sunshineandteddybears kept maintaining that I was perhaps making harsh claims. So I tried to give the benefit of the doubt.

Well in that time, there are points of contention followed by times of calm when another drama with escalate.

First three times was me and my trauma responses causing issues. I needed to work on myself and not put my past trauma on others.

Except then this last time. All Clinton (in truth it's Clinton every fucking time. Y'all don't even know. I can't put it into words due to my belief and the fact we reap 3 times what we put out so. All I'll say is if he died in any way shape or form starting now onward, I highly doubt the world would miss him. I sure as fuck wouldn't care. Good riddance.

Anywhen. So apparently he's got beef with me. But I don't know it. He never came to me to tell me this beef he's had for awhile. So when Duffy tells me I'm shocked. He also tells me that I need to be understanding because Clinton (a cis gay man just like Duffy and the other roomie Rich, who is the only good one here—note: in case I didn't make it clear I'm a trans man) has gone through trauma in regards to being gay and has dealt with people deciving him and his gay journey was so hard and so he sees me

A trans guy. And he is like that's a liar. That person is sneaky and sketch because they are transitioning to something else and not being who they were born and so that makes them unauthentic.

Hey trans people. Did you realize we're all apparently being unauthentic in our journey to authenticity. Now how the fuck does that one work.

So right. This point nailed the coffin shut on the transphobic question. Anyway. For more than 30 minutes (the shortest thus far) I had to sit there and take this transphobic rhetoric as well as stay complacent and calm as he shat on me and told me I was the problem and I needed to be a mind reader and all that. And give Clinton leeway and grace because of the trauma. EXCEPT wait

*scrolls up* okay good I remember correctly. When I had the trauma responses I was the problem and I needed to take ownership of my trauma and work through it and not put it on others. (Which is correct but I also wasn't really doing all that and he was purposely perpetuating the trauma while saying all this.

There was a night ( @sunshineandteddybears can attest) that Duffy had managed to almost convince me that I was the horrible person he painted me out to be. She had to talk me off the ledge figuratively.

And this last one was a doozy. And Imma share it with y'all.

So there it is. You can decide for yourself if I'm correct or not.

I'm my mind. All of this equates to mental/psychological and emotional abuse. (Many still don't see these as that bad but let me tell you. Sometimes this stuff is much worse than the physical. You get to a point where you second guess everything and everyone. It's hell.)

On top of that, dealing with no funds to pay for car note or rent. And fuck I hate to high heavens that I have to pay that fucking garbage rat another fucking cent.

Good news! (Trying not to worry about it not happening due to my past.) I'm gonna be moving with an actual person I know well. Just antsy because I need to get out of this environment.

I was on medical leave but only get 20 ish percent of my income. It ended on the 6th and suddenly my job after I sent my doc note in was like we need you to go this huge list of very long classes.

Had to do fingerprint and a renewed bg check. All these are things that take forever to get through. They could have fucking give it to me to do during my fucking leave. Though if I remember correctly they have to pay me for the stuff so I'm gonna press them on that if I don't see it on a paycheck.

So then I call and am like I have given all the stuff only to get vm from my old manager (I guess she stepped down) and she's like we need your doc note.

Yes readers. The very same doc note I sent before I got all the other requirements.

So I resent it and the flu doctor note I got since I got the flu right at the end of my leave Because ofc. (Thanks roomies. That was all you.)

Ugh okay so. One good thing and I'm super hopeful for so if y'all will pray or talk to your gods or the universe or whoever. Please put out a good word for me to them for this job and wish me luck?

The good thing since I forgot: there is an office administrator position I super want with an organization I love the sound of.

I'm sure there's more I'm forgetting but ye

AHA FORGOT THE OTHER BIGGEST ONE. I'M QUITTING VAPING. AND LAST TWO DAYS HAVE BEEN WITHOUT THE NICOTINE PATCH AT ALL!! (I'M VERY PROUD)

[spider-mancan]

peter and tony are broken up and everyone knows it. nick fury knew it when he made peter accept this mission, his teammates knew it when they piled into the jet, and tony knew it when he sat down as far from peter as possible

peter is awkward on a good day but he's not sure he can handle being side-eyed by the most powerful people in the world. black widow's round kick has nothing on her disapproving look, but peter does his best not to pay attention.

he wasn't even the one to break up with tony. it was mutual, after months of barely finding time for each other. peter had tried, but with college and...who is he kidding? if tony wanted to make it work, he would have.

with that in mind, peter tries not to stare at tony through the reflection in the glass and tony tries flirt with the flight attendant and only one of them is successful.

the mission goes fine. peter almost expected to be useless, but considering about 75% of the fight happening on scaffolding, he was much more active than expected.

peter doesn't think about getting thrown off by a ninja (which, like okay, that's pretty cool) and being caught by tony. he would have caught himself just fine, but he hadn't even hit free fall before his nearly brained himself on tony's chest plate. and then tony did the extremely predictable thing and told him to pay more attention and didn't flip his face plate up but peter knew it was a little derisive but he still really wanted to see tony's face, just a little.

he wasn't handling the break up well.

afterwards peter is sitting on the ambulance passing out shock blankets to hostages and tony shoots a syringe of pain medication into peter's forearm before peter realizes its happening

"you threw your shoulder out," tony says.

"you shouldn't be stabbing people when you're not a doctor," peter replies dully, even though he's pretty sure he tore his trap. tony opens his mouth and peters cuts him off because it's familiar. "not THAT kind of doctor."

tony wipes off the bead of blood on peter's arm from the needle. its a little useless, since the suit is torn and his skin is greasy with sweat and blood. "take better care of yourself, then."

peter scoffs, because tony is even worse than peter is. when he asks karen, friday snitches on the limp tony is hiding with the armor -- old knee injury. peter knew about it because there was a time when he knew everything about tony.

he could count the moles on tony's thigh and trace the shape of tony's scars and now its been four months since tony really looked him in the eye. its been longer than that since they talked about something that meant anything.

its another week before peter gathers the nerve to take the suit to tony for repairs.

he wonders if tony is still limping, or if someone held tony down and took him to medbay. tony had stayed in the area by himself after the mission to schmooze, and peter had flown back with a pleasantly numb arm and the avengers trying to figure out if peter did something wrong.

it doesn't matter when peter says nothing happened, or reminds them that the breakout was both mutual and none of their business. bruce is the only one mature enough to tell peter that tony is miserable, so clearly it wasn't really mutual at all.

well, it's great that he's miserable. they were miserable together too, because peter always thought tony missed the thread of women in and out his door and tony proved him right by putting out the queue line as soon as he was single

"don't trust all those articles," pepper told him, near the end.

peter thought it was mean, so he didn't say it out loud, but he wasn't sure he could trust tony either, since tony wouldn't talk to him.

it was childish. in the moment, peter and tony both knew peter was being childish. four months later, peter knows he was being childish -- it's also childish of him to hesitate outside the door of the lab, psyching himself up like he's about to go to war.

it's just tony. peter tells himself that for two days before he shows up at the tower, and he's telling himself that now, even though tony has never been Just Tony and peter is childish and he misses him and peter didn't want to break up but he's scared and he's lonely.

friday opens the door before peter knocks. tony looks up in alarm, double-take, and then cooly goes back to sewing up the kevlar on widow's uniform. "long time no see, kid."

its not warm, but it warms peter. he's awkward, quiet, and smooths the suit out flat on the worktable that was his until it wasn't. there's still web fluid stuck on the corner. tony left his photos up on the wall.

peter watches tony finish widow's suit, and the wordlessly passes the spider suit over and watches tony run his fingers over the torn fibers. "next time it will be better," tony tells them both. "next time it won't tear."

after two hours, peter brings tony a sandwich, pats dum-e on the head, and says, "i think i'm still in love with you," and it's quiet except for the sizzle of the solder gun.

and tony just puts his tools down and looks at peter and his eyes are a little wet and his jaw is clenched. "don't do this, pete." and a few years ago maybe peter wouldn't have but this is important enough that he doesn't care what tony has to say about it.

"i just...wanted you to tell me i was crazy," peter admits. "i thought...it wasn't about the--the girls. i know that...i know that you wouldn't. didn't." the clock ticks. tony doesn't say anything, and peter clears his throat. "i just...missed you. i was angry. i don't know."

"i'm an old man," tony tells him. "i'm not interested in playing around anymore. i'm not going to be alive long enough to play around--don't tell me i'm wrong." he's not even looking at peter, but they know each other backwards and forwards, and he knows peter will tell him off.

"i'd bring you back," peter says quietly. he's never thought about it until now, but he would. he knows that he would. "even if you hated me. if you never forgive more or...well. i would bring you back."

"i don't know if that's what i'd want." tony picks up the gun again and returns to working on the circuitry, lovingly crafted to protect the love of his life, even if the thought makes him choke. "i'm just saying, kid, that this is it for me."

"you have a funny way of showing it." peter won't pretend he's not bitter. tony ignored his calls and cancelled plans and then swept peter up in his arms and kissed him and then disappeared again, like a ghost. like a man on the run.

"you're it for me," tony says again, eyes on his work, "and that terrifies me."

peter is still sitting on his stool and his workbench, hands folded in his lap like he's getting scolded. but he can't stop himself from scowling. "why? we want the same things, so why is it...why are you terrified?"

"i can't be the guy on your posters, pete." the circuit sparks and tony tosses the soldering gun away with a huff. dum-e whirrs over to pick it up and tony runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "you're so young. i can't predict what you're going to want in ten, twenty years."

"i don't need you to." peter consciously relaxes his hands, smoothing them over the rough denim of his jeans. sweaty. nervous. pointed. "i just need you to be here."

tony curses, and then his stool is kicked over and he's rounding his workbench and he's pulling on peter's clothes and he's burying his face in peter's neck and breathing so deep, like he's been drowning and now he's on the shore.

peter is apologizing and tony is telling him not to, and tony might be crying or maybe the collar of peter's shirt is just mysteriously damp, but when peter pulls back and kisses tony's cheek and his nose and his forehead it's good. it's so good.

"it's been so horrible," tony groans, and then cups peter's face and kisses his mouth, sweet. it's just as good. "it's been the worst four months since i was dying that one time."

and peter punches tony lightly on the side and then sighs into the kiss like he's been longing to.

[briarpatch-kids]

hi! do you have any tips on talking to doctors/PTs about mobility aids?

I definitely got way better results talking about how I want to live my life and a mobility aid would help a lot. Have a goal like "I want to be able go around my house instead of moving from bed to couch and nothing else" or "I want to have an active life in school and a mobility aid would make that possible" because in a doctor's mind mobility aids are usually a last resort. (Even though they aren't) Your goals should be less, "I dont want to be in so much pain" and more "i want to live an active life or i want to go to college/start or stay working/engage in student life and I think a mobility aid will help that" because "less pain" is a vague goal that will make more ableist doctors worry that you're "giving up" or that you'll live a sedentary life and end up sicker than you would have if you didn't have the mobility aid. (Which is probably untrue. Very few people want to sit around and do nothing.)

If you're undiagnosed, pitch it as a "in the meantime" thing, meaning like, you want to figure out what's going on, but you also don't want to live in limbo just waiting to get better. I got my first wheelchair by telling the doctor that I'm tired of waiting for a diagnosis and wanted to stay in college while we tried to figure out what was going on. All of that is true, but by then I also knew that whatever was happening was degenerative, and I probably wasn't gonna ever be able to go back to "normal" like the doctor thought I would.

If they want you to do PT, do it. Give them the same goals you gave your doctor and try your hardest to work on them. A lot of times things like "I did the exercises you gave me but they made me worse" are actually important for the PT to know because it can help narrow down what WILL help and will help them come up with realistic goals for your therapy. Also, physical therapists are the ones who usually determine what kind of mobility aid you need and will send you to things like a wheelchair evaluation if you need custom mobility aids.

The custom mobility aid process in the US is usually doctor -> physical therapy -> wheelchair evaluation with PT and DME provider -> durable medical equipment company for specs -> insurance fuckery and approval -> ordering -> delivery or pickup and maybe a seating evaluation plus adjustments. It takes like 6 months plus, so try and get a rental standard version of what you need while you wait)

[mars00]

MY STORY.

HELP SUFFERING LGBTQ'S IN EAST AFRICA.

I'm Gilbert Rugumbura Ugandan by nationality, aged 28yrs and currently living in Gorom refugees camp located in south Sudan

I finished senior six which is advanced level in Uganda but did not get the chance to join university due to the challenges and misfortune that came in my life because of my gender and sexaul orientation.

After the president of Uganda passed a mass communication criticizing and cursing homosexuality in our country before signing the anti-gay bill act in 2023.

I came to live my home country due to narrowly escaping fear for my life to get in danger,denial from my family,face life imprisonment,shame and complete failure in my life, persecution, torture and death.

Something that forced me to leave,was,the strong suspicion that I'd got from my family members that I'm a homosexual when I was found with my partner having a good time together, close to each other, hugging and kissing by my cousin brother who watched us from a distance when we were at the golf course in the evening back then in Uganda.I feared to face my parents, brothers and sisters when my cousin reported that incidence to my elder brother who also informed my parents, brothers and sisters and my parents asked to meet me with all my brothers and sisters in a meeting in Kampala.Due to the fact that I had had the same case at school in senior five when they also called my father but we settled the issues, making matters worse, our parents had sat us down before as a family and strongly restricted us from such which my father termed as abnormal and scary practices and promised us as his children,not to favour or lightly handle any of us who is known for the act but rather take away there life so that they could not ashame the whole family,chase them from our clan and family linage or handle us to the security with his helping hand to imprison them for life, briefly he strongly condemned it and we very well knew how rude he is.

After all this happening, when my family asked to meet me, I escaped to Kenya and ended at the red cross in Kenya and after three days was taken to Kakuma refugees camp.

CHALLENGES.

When I entered the camp, I thought my life had been rescued to some extent, little knowing that I had just started facing the hardest part of my life.

While in the camp,the rest of the community in the camp, we as lgbtq's,face discrimination, segregation, torture,rampant attacks, trauma, disrespect,stay most of the times indoors, constant hunger, insecurity, lack of enough medical care,lack of participating and exercising our rights, denial of the right to work and face death.

The straight community in the camp say that we're agents of the devil and the spoilt western culture, we're not allowed to move freely but in groups and short distances and if not, we're attacked at any time, brutalized and get seriously injured but what hurts most is that the very same people who are supposed to be helping us, also torture and discriminate us say of the police when we go to report our cases,they chase them away and instead ask us to go back where we live before they arrest us,the medical doctors of the UNHCR clinics say they don't want to touch on us because we're a curse and a burden hence living us to go to private clinics while we can not afford medical bills ,the UNHCR local officials discriminate us by giving us very little food that can not sustain us for even half a month but counted to sustain us for a full month,the owners of shops refuse to sell us goods saying that our money will bring a curse to there businesses, we're not allowed to access jobs because the owners of the jobs say we're a curse.

GOALS:

Rescue the suffering lgbtqi people who have no voice from hunger and other basic needs.

Living a free and desirable life.

Exercising my rights as a human being like others.

Amplify the voice for the lgbtqi people.

Helping our fellow lgbtqi people live a desirable life.

Alerting the rest of the communities and genders that we're people like anyone else.

Creating room

(This is a campaign organized by me)

@rugumbura999 (his profile)

[rrivlet]

let me tell you where therapy and psychiatry has gotten me real quick, as a person with schizophrenia that includes delusions, psychosis, and an inability to cooperate sometimes:

AT LEAST 6 ward stays (2 in childhood) which separated me from my actual support network and put me on prescription drugs that I didn't really want, many of which made things actively worse.

MONTHS of residential treatment as a teenager against my will, where I suffered heavy abuse, bullying, gaslighting about what I was experiencing, and other assorted sorts of miseries.

ACTIVE HARM from many of my medications due to side effects, improper administration, bad instructions, pharmacy shortages leading to withdrawals, misdiagnosis, and stigma around said meds.

FEAR OF COMMUNICATION about serious mental issues, even with loved ones that I know will not harm me or send me to a ward to be abused and/or neglected again.

TRAUMA from everything mentioned above, and much, much more.

Listen, I know that psychiatry and therapy is necessary for some people, and it was for me too, at one point in time. I've had far too many bad experiences by now, and far too many frustrations with how I and others were/are treated.

If someone tells you they don't want to do therapy, drugs, or hospital visits about their problems, LISTEN TO THEM!!!!!!!!!

The brain damage and loss of cognitive function I experienced from this (and continue to experience while I try to get off these blasted medications) has made my life hell, and now I'm dependent on stimulants just to function. At all.

All of this because people are so scared of weird people who "act up" (read: experience an episode or crisis) in public. Treatments have been forced on me since I was 10 or so, and all of them turned me into a zombie that was barely capable of thinking, let alone living.

The meds help some people, yes, but they're often a bandaid fix to the issue that is exacerbating environmental factors. Therapy helps some people, yes, but for a lot of folks like me, it just leads to hospital stays that don't help, medication that doesn't help, and trauma that makes things worse.

The current current treatments of acute mental health issues are, buy and large, systemically oppressive to disabled people like me who don't have a hope for "independence."

Again, some treatments work for some people without causing them harm, but the point of me saying ANY of this is that if someone doesn't want to engage with the system, THERE'S PROBABLY A REALLY GOOD REASON FOR THAT!

[defilerwyrm]

May i ask how's the recovery process after gender affirming surgeries?

If you mean how's it going now: my last surgery was in 2022 so at this point I'm 100% healed up. I was SUPPOSED to get my implants in December 2023 but my insurance company has been fucking me over at every turn so that's still on hold.

If you mean how was it at the time:

Top surgery (2018) was pretty easy for me since I have a desk job. I stayed with family in town for the first 2 weeks, during which time I basically did nothing but sleep, wake up long enough to use the toilet, take a dry shower, eat something, take more pain meds, then go back to sleep. I had 4 weeks off work, so after that I was a little sore and still confined to button-down shirts because I couldn't raise my arms above shoulder level; then I went back to work and all was normal for the next month. But...

Because I am an unlucky son of a bitch, I had a rare complication: I developed a seroma that dehysced (i.e. a hole opened up along my suture line that leaked large amounts of greasy, bright orange fluid made up of lymph and blood), which was not painful at all but was absolutely disgusting and very alarming to experience—but not a medical emergency or anything, and was easily fixed with a revision surgery. I took another 2 (I think?) weeks off work and it's been fine ever since. The left side of my chest is a little funny but I don't really care, it was fully worth it. Please note that I did not have drains. If you have drains, you're even LESS likely to have this problem.

Hysterectomy (2019) was much the same: I slept through the first two weeks and spent the next 2 in a recliner with an ice pack on my lower belly, playing a lot of Stardew Valley and getting into Critical Role. I was lucky enough to live with a friend who loves cooking. I ate a lot of soup. The soreness wasn't that bad, but I have a policy of staying ahead of the pain by using timers for how often I should be taking them. The worst part of it was the pain meds, tbh, because I really don't like the way oxycodone makes me feel; at the same time, I'm grateful for that fact because it keeps me from forming a habit.

Phalloplasty etc (2021) was kinda rough to start. I had 3 months off work that time. Slept through the first 2 weeks as usual. But for the first 3 weeks total I had a suprapubic catheter in and man I fuckin' hate being cathed. I felt like I needed to pee at all times, even immediately after draining the cath bag. Awful. Learning to pee standing up was...let's just say I did a lot of laundry and cleaning, lol. This was made worse by the fact that I had two fistulae (holes that go through the urethra all the way to the outside)—like I said, I've got bad luck. One of them healed up all on its own, like most of them do. The other one required a revision 8 months later, which meant being cathed again for a while, SIGH. But back to post-op for phallo: I had physical therapy for my left arm to make sure I kept a good range of motion; I kept the graft bandaged with daily gentle cleanup, application of ointments, and rebandaging; and had to take dry showers for the first uhhhhh. 2 weeks at least, maybe 3 or 4? After I got the cath out, things were MUCH easier. I was just kinda vaguely tired and sore and spent most of my time lying down. My libido came back at the start of the 2nd month, which was frustrating af because it wasn't till the start of the 3rd month that I was healed up enough to do anything about it (but once I could, holy FUCK it was incredible).

[emojellyace08]

I had this very sad idea..can we have a reader who has like this terminal illness and they don't really have much time to live yk? Like maybe 6 or 5 months. So they try to hide it from their partner but fail to. How do u think lookism characters would react to this?

Lookism Cast x Gender Neutral Reader (Angst)

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐥) 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 (𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲) 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐨��𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬/𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞-𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞, 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 (𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞 :)

It might not be obvious that he's a sweetheart at times but he's the complete opposite of it. He's so loyal to you. When your symptoms started to show up, he's always there to take care of you. He even left his work behind to make sure you're eating and sleeping well.

But sadly life is no fairy tale as your sickness started to get worse. You decided to set up a schedule for your check-up alone as you don't want to bother him with his duties. You thought that it's just a severe headache or your body being simply tired and needed pills to ease the pain. But your world shattered into pieces when your doctor finally revealed the results that you have a terminal disease. Everyone in your position will panic as the promises, goals in life, and dreams that you made to yourself, to your family, to your friends, and most especially to him may come to an end. As panicked as you are, of course you didn't announced this big news to them as you don't want them to feel distressed at your situation.

Yet your loved ones and him noticed your sudden change of energy. The change of your face and body that was once energetic and productive seemed to have changed for the worse. Eyes hollow, your daily routine changed as you started to stay in your bed for longer hours, and you sometimes eating less. He's really worried at you but you just brushed it off saying that you're fine, lying to them as you want to keep the burden to yourself. There would be times that you would accidentally lash out your stress and anger about yourself to him, which makes him surprised and confused about why you are acting like this. "Y/N Can you just let me-" "WILL YOU LEAVE ME ALONE FOR A MOMENT?! YOU KEPT BOTHERING ME WITH SIMPLE THINGS THAT I CAN DO FOR MYSELF." you replied in a bold tone as you can almost see him tearing up at your sudden aggression. "What? Love, w-why are you acting like this?". he muttered, his face scrunched feeling like a hindrance yet you want him to feel the exact opposite, you trying to force yourself not to burst down crying with him right now. Well, what's the point of living when you only have years or probably just months left? Is the only answer you can think about yet you have lost courage to say it in front of him as you don't want him to become more puzzled as he is with your recent behavior.

But it didn't took long for him to finally know your secret. Since your place has turned into a mess like your life and health, he insisted to help you out in cleaning your apartment/bed room. Just as he's wiping off the dust in the shelf and drawers, he saw your medical tests some of the x-rays, medical bills, and receipts of the pills that you have to take to reduce the chance of your illness getting worse and lengthen your chance of surviving. His mind would pause to think for seconds as he finally realized what's happening and what's your situation. Is this why you're acting distant to him? To your family and to your friends? Is this why he's not seeing you happy and energetic like you supposed to be? What about your plans with him? Most especially, what about your health? Your physical and mental wellness?

He'll try to approach you softly since he doesn't want to overwhelm you despite him having a mental crisis and being emotional about why you didn't open up about it. "Babe, what's this?" he confronted you while showing the medical papers making you dropped the dishes on the sink that you are washing. "HEY-W-Where did you find that?" you stuttered, you rubbing your hands and arms on your apron and rushed to him while he examines your medical sheets. "Love, be honest with me. I-Is this why you're acting different?" he asked as you can see his mouth turn into a frown, his eyebrows scrunching in distress while his orbs turn red as tears fall down his cheeks. "Well.. I... I tried to speak up about it but... I'm scared that you'll worry too much and work harder just for the bills. I-I'm sorry I didn't mean to..." you sobbed as he drops the papers on the floor, him hugging and comforting you as he realized that you're scared to leave him and leave everyone who became dear to you.

After that confrontation, you'll start to open up to him about what you're going through. You explaining that you only had few years to live and you'll be considered lucky if you lasted longer. Hearing this from you shatters his heart like fragile glass. Listening to this is enough for him to spiral into a pit of depression when he realizes that he can only spend some remaining years with the love of his life. He wanted you to stay with him longer. He wants to see you reach your own dreams and he wants to have a family with you in the near future. But this obstacle is challenging your relationship right now, but that doesn't mean that he'll quickly give up. He'll make sure that you'll live and cherish your life longer.

He'll make sure that he'll attend with you with every check-ups that you're scheduled in. He'll even prepare you healthy snacks even when he's not so confident about his cooking skills, make sure that you're taking your medications in the right time, and he'll cuddle with you in bed. And there would be lots of times that you'll have soft talks with him about the things that you missed doing with him like going out on dates even when it's not your anniversary or even if there's no special occasion. But you remained to be thankful for being gifted that you have a partner like him who remained patient and understanding about your situation. You may not notice that he's trying to force back his tears again as he doesn't want to make you upset when you talk about your thoughts. Your pain is even killing him more, mentally and emotionally.

When you started staying in the hospital when you're condition is starting to get worse, he started to staying and spending more time with you. He even abandons his work/studies at times which makes you genuinely worried that he may get sued for leaving his responsibilities behind. But he doesn't care anymore if he needs to leave you alone in the hospital room. But he's also stressed about how he's going to pay the medical bills if he doesn't get up and work. Luckily, his family and his friends are considerate enough to help him out in taking good care of you. It takes a while for the both of you to adjust with your new lifestyle, but you're really glad to spend more time with them as they'll even surprise you in your birthdays!

And when he's starting to feel stressed out about your bills and your remaining time left, he'll unexpectedly burst into tears no matter what time or place he's in. As much as you don't want him to see him like this, his eyes would water down when he's beside you on the bed while kissing your hand a bunch of times. Him making eye-contact with your exhausted ones just triggers that familiar yet different kind of anxiety that he's feeling this past few days. His cries would be silent, but remember that the ones who tears up silently are the ones with the most worries, troubles, and burdens that's in their shoulders. "Don't leave me, you promised." he muttered while leaning on your lap while you pat and soothe his hair. "I won't. I promised to fight back right?" you whispered while he sobs even more, his tears staining the sheets yet you don't care about the mess as you try to comfort him even though you know that there's a possibility that the time may come for you no matter how hard you fought. "Love you... love you so and very much..." he would repeat to make you know that you're not alone in this battle. "I love you more darling." cooing him as you leaned closer to kiss his head to calm him down.

His friends and your family would notice his depressed state as he opens up about his fears of losing you, the person who made him love himself and to be open with new people. His friends would share a tear with him as they feel empathy, the feeling of loosing their special someone in the hands of a deadly disease. They would give him a few encouraging and soft pats on his back and shoulders to ease himself up. But no matter what methods of comfort they tried to lift up his spirits, his monsters would eat him wholly as the darkness would linger in his mind.

He's the type to cuddle with you on the hospital bed despite him being hesitant that you'll feel squished when he sleeps beside you. But if you insist to, his wish is to make you happy and content so he'll gently place himself beside you. And he'll sing you a lullaby or your favorite song if you asked to. He'll get nervous when you asked him to as he's afraid that him singing when you drift of to sleep maybe your final goodbye to him. "Silly, I'm not going away. I just wanna hear your voice, please?" you begged as he chuckles while kissing your head leisurely. "Okay. I'll sing for you."

⤷ 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤, 𝐉𝐚𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐞𝐞, 𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐨 (𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐄𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐞), 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤, 𝐄𝐥𝐢 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐠, 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐞, 𝐉𝐢𝐡𝐚𝐧 & 𝐉𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐨𝐦 𝐊𝐰𝐚𝐤, 𝐉𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐊𝐰𝐚𝐤, 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐦, 𝐉𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐊𝐰𝐨𝐧, 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐧, 𝐆𝐨𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐦, 𝐆𝐮𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 (𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲), 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐒𝐞𝐨 (𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞), 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐆𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐊𝐢𝐦, 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐧, 𝐘𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐤, 𝐁𝐚𝐞𝐤 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐥 (𝐍𝐨. 𝟏) 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐞 (𝐃𝐆), 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐋𝐞𝐞, 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐊𝐢𝐦 (𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦), 𝐃𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐏𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧, 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐚 𝐑𝐲𝐮𝐡𝐞𝐢, 𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐞, 𝐇𝐮𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐡𝐧, 𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐨 𝐌𝐚, 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐛 𝐉𝐢

A/N: I want it to make it short but powerful. (Literally sobbing rn while writing this I remember my grandma who passed away years ago and I didn't even gave her a proper goodbye). But ty for requesting.

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐚𝐜𝐞𝟎𝟖. 𝐑𝐞-𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐰��𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐓𝐲!

[sm64mario]

My name is Walter Hartwell White. I live at 308 Negra Arroyo Lane, Albuquerque, New Mexico, 87104. This is my confession. If you're watching this tape, I'm probably dead, murdered by my brother-in-law Hank Schrader. Hank has been building a meth empire for over a year now and using me as his chemist. Shortly after my 50th birthday, Hank came to me with a rather, shocking proposition. He asked that I use my chemistry knowledge to cook methamphetamine, which he would then sell using his connections in the drug world. Connections that he made through his career with the DEA. I was... astounded, I... I always thought that Hank was a very moral man and I was... thrown, confused, but I was also particularly vulnerable at the time, something he knew and took advantage of. I was reeling from a cancer diagnosis that was poised to bankrupt my family. Hank took me on a ride along, and showed me just how much money even a small meth operation could make. And I was weak. I didn't want my family to go into financial ruin so I agreed. Every day, I think back at that moment with regret. I quickly realized that I was in way over my head, and Hank had a partner, a man named Gustavo Fring, a businessman. Hank essentially sold me into servitude to this man, and when I tried to quit, Fring threatened my family. I didn't know where to turn. Eventually, Hank and Fring had a falling out. From what I can gather, Hank was always pushing for a greater share of the business, to which Fring flatly refused to give him, and things escalated. Fring was able to arrange, uh I guess I guess you call it a "hit" on my brother-in-law, and failed, but Hank was seriously injured, and I wound up paying his medical bills which amounted to a little over $177,000. Upon recovery, Hank was bent on revenge, working with a man named Hector Salamanca, he plotted to kill Fring, and did so. In fact, the bomb that he used was built by me, and he gave me no option in it. I have often contemplated suicide, but I'm a coward. I wanted to go to the police, but I was frightened. Hank had risen in the ranks to become the head of the Albuquerque DEA, and about that time, to keep me in line, he took my children from me. For 3 months he kept them. My wife, who up until that point, had no idea of my criminal activities, was horrified to learn what I had done, why Hank had taken our children. We were scared. I was in Hell, I hated myself for what I had brought upon my family. Recently, I tried once again to quit, to end this nightmare, and in response, he gave me this. I can't take this anymore. I live in fear every day that Hank will kill me, or worse, hurt my family. I... All I could think to do was to make this video in hope that the world will finally see this man, for what he really is.

Mamma mia! That'sa quite a story! I'm'a sorry you've had to go through all that, Walter.

But hey, cheer up! Life is'a like a game. Sometimes you get stuck on a really tough level, but you just gotta keep trying until you beat it! Don't let Bowser - I mean Hank - get you down. You're the hero of your own story!

Remember, no matter how bad things seem, there's always a way to overcome it if you stay determined and never give up. That's the Mario way!

[darkromance-princess]

Breakin Dishes and Your Heart

I HAVE ANOTHER ONE FOR YALL!!

best friends to future lovers with bakugou!

Warnings: mentions of cheating, ANGST, feels throwing things mention of a knife, MONOMA! he's a warning we hate hiM, extreme anger, bad depressive episode mentions taking medication and breaking things aka dishes underlying symptoms of bpd I'm not a medical expert I'm just going off my own feelings for BPD.

WORD COUNT: 1275

THE SONGS USED ARE BREAKIN' DISHES BY RIHANNA AND A FEW LYRICS FROM FIGURE YOU OUT BY VOILA ALL CREDITS TO THEM

IF ANY OF THIS WILL TRIGGER YOU THIS ONE IS NOT FOR YOU PLEASE SKIP I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION SO PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS BEFORE READING

GIF IS NOT MINE ALL CREDIT IS TO THE OWNER, PLEASE ENJOY, AND DO NOT POST NOT ANY OTHER SITE INCLUDING THIS ONE REBLOGS ARE WELCOME SO ARE LIKES AND COMMENTS

 Everyone knew not to fuck with you and that you had a temper worse than Katsuki's so it was no surprise when not only were you prescribed anti-psychotics to keep you regulated you were doing great no episodes of wanting to kill anyone and your quirk was reliant on your mood so when you get angry it could cause a catastrophe now what caused you to snap it was the fact that your boyfriend Monoma had been out since 3:30 in the morning all month and it wasn't for work or friends so you had a pretty good feeling that he was cheating on you. You were currently sitting in your shared living room in the dark texting your best friend  Katsuki.

“Hey, you awake?”  your shaky fingers type out waiting to see if he’ll respond a few minutes go passed and a chat bubble pops up “T’ch yeah what’s up fireball? Why you up rn anyway?”

   You smile at the nickname he gave you and type back “he’s been gone since 3:30 been comin' home lately at 3:30”  Kastuki already knows what you're talking about he sighs as he makes fast typing making sure your ok  “You alright?”  his message lights up your screen “ I'm super cool, I've been a fool now I aint trippin I aint twisted I aint demented, huh well just a lil bit ”  you type back your anger rising close to splitting your resolve  katsukis eyes go wide as he reads your message he knew your signs of you about to split he rushed and threw on his sweats and grabbed his car keys and texted you “ stay put I'm coming over and no arguing with me about it ” he presses send as he pulls out of his driveway you typed back “ better hurry before I start breakin’ dishes up in here and soaking his clothes in bleach and light that shit on fire I aint gonna stop till I see police lights!” 

 As katsuki reads your message he starts speeding as for you, you switch to go text Monoma “I don't know who you think I am I'm on flame don't come home I’m killin’ time you know bleachin’ your clothes I’m roastin’ marshmallows on the fire and what I’m burrin’ is your attire I'm gettin’ restless I'm gettin’ tested I’m looking 'round for somethin’ else to throw how about the dishes I aint gonna stop till I see police lights I don't know who you think I am but I really don't give a damn right now you cheating piece of shit ima fight a man tonight don't try me!” 

you press send walking over to your kitchen cabinet  grabbing anything and everything glass and start throwing  not caring what broke and if you got hurt doing it your anger was way out of control at this point if it wasn't for katsuki hearing you throwing stuff and angrily talking to yourself and laughing out of pure hatred he would have been hit in the face with a very heavy vase he saw glass all over and you weren't wearing any shoes he knows he should be worried about the destruction you're creating but he could care less he always hated your boyfriend katsuki knew he could treat you better he just wants you to be ok he knows after you punch Monoma in his stupid face you'll feel better

“ And I can't believe he's always out every night and never checks in, is he cheatin’? Man, I don't know I'm lookin’ ‘round for somethin’ else to throw!”  you scream as Katsuki goes to your shared bedroom with Monoma he finds all your clothes and a duffle bag you use for missions and starts to pack your stuff he hears the door close and goes to see if you left cus that would be really bad if you did but no it was Monoma and you had him pressed against the wall with your largest kitchen knife held against his throat while he was blabbering nonsense clearly scared katsuki almost laughed at the look on your boyfriends face.

 “ y/n l-lets talk about this you d-don't wanna do this!” Monoma said his tone a pitch higher than usual “What do you know about what I want you cheating asshole ” Monoma’s face pales you laugh “Yeah that's what I thought” Katsuki was slowly approaching you to try to take the kife out of your hand but you already knew what he was gonna do so you stabbed in in the wall right next to Monoma’s head he whimpered while closing his eyes only for you to punch him square in the gut and as he lowers himself to the floor you whisper in his ear

“you're lucky I don't chop your dick off because we both know id do it too if katsuki wasn't here, so today is your lucky day don't thank me” You push his head against the wall with a punch to his face leaving him there unconscious. You walk over to katsuki wiping your tears “Let's get the fuck outta here” You walk to your closet and grab all your clothes leaving them in a pile for katsuki to pack while you grabbed all your bathroom things and anything else important you walk over to katsuki your eyes no longer filled with anger and now filled with tears and sadness. 

 “Oh what am I gonna do Suki?” you say barely above a whisper katsuki cups your face and presses your foreheads together whispering back “You’ll come live with me fireball and we’ll figure everything out I promise you're finally safe with me” you weakly smile at the nickname he calls you falling beautifully off his lips and you wanna kiss him so badly but you don’t yet  “ill show you I’m the right guy to figure you out I could treat you so much better I've known you forever and I love you but right nows not the time I'm gonna help you heal yourself get you feeling like yourself again before anything else now where are your meds I know you haven't been taking them love” katsuki kisses your forehead and walks over to look under your bathroom sink finding all your meds and putting them in the bag you sat on the bed zoned out due to stress and processing what katsuki said.

katsuki finds your shoes and slips them on after making sure you don’t have any glass in your feet he slings the bag over his shoulder and lifts you princess-style so you don't trip on anything on the way out he carries you down the stairs of your home unlocks his car puts you in his passenger seat and buckles you throwing your bag of stuff in his back seat heading to his home once he gets you inside takes your shoes off.

Your depression after an episode can be pretty bad so he ran you a bath, helped you wash your hair, and helped you get dressed in some of his clothes for now, fed you to make sure you ate with your meds he let you curl up in his bed and pass out while you slept he put your clothes up so you didn't have to deal with it yourself these next few weeks were gonna be hard on the both of you but all he cared about was if you were safe and healing. He brushed your hair out of your face and kissed your forehead you shuffled and curled up into his chest he smiled down at you pulling you closer this is just the start of something wonderful.

[copperbadge]

Sam, how did you find your therapist and build such a good working relationship? Every attempt I’ve made at therapy seems to fizzle out after a few months… and no therapist has ever understood the RSD aspect of my ADHD, which makes it all feel a little worse every time I try.

I mean, I think really we're still building it -- I haven't had her more than a couple of months and functionally it's been an every-two-weeks situation most of the time because we keep having to move/cancel. I don't know that I can really speak intelligently to building a relationship with a therapist because this is the first time I've ever done it where I was an adult and in control. As for finding one...

Chicago has a group called Clarity Clinic, which is like a WeWork for mental health professionals -- they offer scheduling, billing, and IT/office space to local people who I think are mostly independent operators otherwise. They have a directory that is highly filterable, so I found my psychiatrist there by filtering to stuff like Adult ADHD and medication management. He's great, but he didn't want to be my therapist and I didn't want him to. When I decided on therapy, I asked him if he knew anyone he could recommend, since he knew what my deal was in terms of personality, behavior, etc.

So he gave me a couple of names of fellow Clarity Clinic folks and I had a look on the website and chose the one that sounded like she'd get on best with me. I think I struck it lucky to be honest -- she's young (compared to me) and has ADHD, and she's very familiar with disability discourse, spoon theory, etc, even fandom to an extent. If I were to go looking today I might look more at therapists who specialize in twice-exceptional individuals, but she's good enough with what I'm aiming at that I don't want to change.

So the best advice I have is if you're being treated for other stuff by someone you trust I'd ask them, but also look for someone experienced with adult ADHD, and I'd look for someone on the younger side who's more likely to be understanding of neurodivergent needs. (I also recommend filtering to queer-friendly therapists if you can; I didn't necessarily need that but it means they're likely to be generally accepting and probably have more liberal politics. With the caveat that in shady places like BetterHealth, "LGBTQIA" counselors are sometimes homophobic creeps with an axe to grind.)

Building the relationship has taken proactivity on my part -- ensuring that I always have an appointment on the books (we book out about six weeks in advance now, because we know one of us will likely need to cancel/rebook at times), making sure that I have either an aim for treatment or at least something to talk about, etc. I think in your case probably having a list of things you want to deal with, so that you can check some boxes up top, might help.

I would definitely open with "I have ADHD and I need help with [aspects of that]; I also have RSD and I need to work with someone who respects that diagnosis and understands how to help with it." I went into mine saying "I have ADHD and I'm also struggling with some really big emotion, so I'm looking for help with those, but also like...I'm not really sure what therapy can offer. I've had some bad experiences in the past but they were all when I was a child, so I'm trying to explore some options." Her reaction was a combination of sympathy and a discussion of the kinds of things we might work on, which helped a great deal.

But yeah, I think it starts with establishing right from the jump what you want and need, and then spending time making sure that you both stay on top of that until you find a rhythm. We're still finding our rhythm, but it's getting easier as I'm learning to be clearer about what I want and more comfortable with being a participant instead of someone therapy just happens to.

[starilicious]

mere haath mein (echo x gn!reader)

》 summary: reader and echo's love story from strangers to friends to lovers throughout the clone wars (a 4+1 type of story)

》 series masterlist: (please read the masterlist before continuing on!)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 4.5.1 | part 4.5.2 | part +1 📍 (you are here!)

click here to read on AO3

》 part +1 word count: ~2.2k

》 part +1 warnings: none

》 part +1 spoilers: none

》 a/n: this is it! thank you to everyone who read this story ^_^ this fic started out purely self-indulgent bc i am an echo girlie at heart, but i hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. this scene is what inspired me writing all the previous parts and is therefore the longest part (because i still cannot believe people write off the clones like objects instead of people with emotions and hopes and fears :( ) please do let me know your thoughts on this fic and if you could like to see any additional parts in this series! enjoy this last chapter :DD

+१ (+1)

At first, it’s the little things. How sometimes he can’t tear open a meal packet easily, or how he takes longer to put on his armor. How he adjusts his grip on his blaster, or he types up reports slower on his datapad.

Of course, Echo never complains. It’s not in his nature to, especially not while you’re at war, and there are arguably bigger and worse things to worry about.

But you notice anyway.

It takes a month or two for you to realize his struggles. Even though you officially transferred to Clone Force 99, you still mainly work with the 501st and other legions thanks to Tech’s precise expertise. His knowledge combined with his training as a soldier and experience in the field meant you rarely accompanied them on missions. So you put your skills to work elsewhere, not wanting to remain idle.

You would come back to the Kamino barracks you shared with the boys only a few days a week at most. Long trips just to get back to the squad wasn’t exactly a good use of the Republic’s dwindling resources, so you make do with the time you have.

It’s not until you request to have your office transferred to Kamino do you observe Echo’s constant conflict with being one-handed. The extra time on your hands allows you to be with Clone Force 99 more often, giving you time to get to know them and how they work together.

Echo is so incredibly subtle about his pain, his exhaustion, and the numerous issues with his scomp link that it’s really only because of your engineering training that you detect the problem. At this point, your mind unconsciously latches onto anything that you perceive as a potential source of trouble. You’ve practically hardwired your brain to find anything and everything that could be a complication, no matter how small.

And you would be damned if you couldn’t fix this one.

So you shove all your impending datapad reports aside and pull up your CAD software and, with a little hacking, Echo’s medical records on your monitors. (You doubt any of the higher-ups will care anyway). You crack open your old notes from university, poring over them and Echo’s reports, scrutinizing every detail and writing down notes in your precious engineering notebook.

Frankly, you are livid over the fact that the Kaminoans or the Republic didn't give Echo a prosthetic to make his life easier. He's an ARC trooper for Maker's sake, constantly going on missions deemed too dangerous for any regular clone. Doesn't that warrant at least a little respect?

You don't dignify that question with a response, already knowing the answer to it. It pisses you off how little they care, how clones are viewed as expendable, how they're nothing more than sentient droids. Even someone at as high of a rank as Echo is still written off even though he has sacrificed everything for the Republic.

For the next week or so, you work in earnest, staying up late nights and waking up at early hours to continue working as you regain the knowledge you temporarily lost while working as an astroengineer. As cool as starships are, nothing can compare to the satisfaction of completing a project that changes someone’s life–it’s why you wanted to be a biomedical engineer in the first place.

Not to mention your constant rage acting as fuel to keep going with the project and refuse to stop.

You build prototype after prototype, constantly adjusting and readjusting your designs, scrapping ideas and thinking of new ones. It’s an arduous process, especially for a challenge you have never faced before, but you put in everything you have to give because this is for Echo.

And Echo is worth it.

You meticulously note down every flaw and success, wanting to have something to look back on for future iterations--after all, there are always more ways to improve.

There are times where Echo is close to figuring out your surprise for him, often walking in while you're mentally elbow deep in your designs, the exploded-view of the parts up on your monitor as you solder together the 3D-printed parts. You luckily throw a cover over the prototype and switch to a different project right before he sees. He glances at you in surprise, but decides not to push, much to your relief.

The worst (and, arguably, best) part is when Echo worries about you, concerned about your lack of sleep and how you practically live in your office makerspace. You come into the barracks long after Echo is asleep and leave long before he's awake. And there are nights where you just don't come in at all, often having too much work to finish because of how much time and effort your job demands of you. Echo does what he can, dropping off meals whenever he's able and cushioning your head with a pillow whenever you fall asleep in your chair. He hates that it isn't enough.

Every time he asks, you deflect his questions and his concern, choosing to inquire about his most recent mission or how his kinship with the Bad Batch is coming along. He reluctantly answers you as he watches you multitask, eagerly listening to him while you repair another starship in the main garage.

But finally, Echo has had enough.

He barges into your office in the middle of the night as soon as he gets back to Kamino after a particularly long mission, heavy footsteps startling you as you scramble to cover the prosthetic.

Echo seethes out your full name, hand curled into a fist as he points at you with his scomp link, and you know you're in deep shit now.

"That's it. I’m going to bed right now and I am taking you with me,” he declares, anger and exhaustion dripping from every word.

“But–”

“No buts! For the past month, I’ve been patient. I do my best to support you and ask you what you need and you can barely even give me the time of day!” Echo exclaims, exasperated. You bite the inside of your cheek, the guilt beginning to weed into your heart as he continues.

“Every time I ask you what’s going on, what’s keeping you here, you just shrug me off and answer with a question of your own,” Echo scoffs, throwing his arms up. “And forget me, what about you? You don’t sleep, you barely eat–when was the last time you did your own damn laundry?”

Your body curls into itself, head hanging down. You can’t meet his eyes, ashamed of how you were so caught up in making his life better that you inadvertently made it worse.

The fight bleeds out of Echo as fast as it entered and he lets out a resigned sigh, posture slackening as he stands in front of you. He lifts your chin up to meet his gaze. The swirl of distress and disquiet is rampant, as clear as the dark shadows under his eyes.

“Just tell me what’s going on,” Echo pleads, the statement coming out as a whisper. You swallow the lump in your throat as you nod. You didn’t want to give it to him today, preferring to wrap it up and hand it to him after he’s well-rested, but at this point, you feel as if you have no choice.

You reach over the durasteel table and uncover the prosthetic hand in a flourish. Echo chokes on air in shock as he stares, frozen and rooted to the ground. You gently pick up your prototype and hold it out to him.

“This is what’s going on,” you reveal, the apology laced in between your words.

Echo is silent as he takes it from your hands, examining the prosthetic in awe before looking at you, tears in his eyes. You smile at him, your face mirroring his own as they begin to fall.

“I-I don’t even know what to say–”

“A thank you will be enough,” you tease lightheartedly, and he laughs in spite of himself, voice caught in his throat as he begins to cry.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug that you eagerly return. When he lets go, you begin explaining yourself and the prototype.

“I noticed you were having difficulty doing stuff now that you’re one-handed and I wanted to do something about it since clearly no one else cared,” you frown at the last part, your fury seeping through your words. “This is what I’ve been working on. It’s painful enough trying to have a body readjust to the regular world, but you have it worse because we’re in the midst of a galactic war. So I decided to do my best to make it a little easier for you.”

You sigh as you watch him admire the prosthetic, turning it over in his hand as he listens to you. Your fingers tap lightly against your work table. “When you put it on, it accommodates the scomp link and hides it within, making it look just like a regular hand.”

“I thought you were an astroengineer?” Echo cuts in, confusion written plainly on face as he glances at you.

You chuckle in response to his hidden question. “Technically, I’m not. I’m a biomedical engineer by training. I learned astroengineering on the fly for the GAR,” you smile fondly as Echo blinks in surprise before rolling his eyes at your awful pun. He smiles.

You continue then, demonstrating the hand for him, pulling the prototype out of his grip and gently latching it onto the mechanical part. “I put in a kind of cloaking technology too.”

You tap the interface on the inner wrist and the metal fades away to the exact color of his brown skin. Echo gasps in surprise as he flexes his muscles, the hand smoothly curling into a fist.

“This way, it literally looks and acts like a normal hand and you can go on more covert missions,” you say proudly as you watch him play with it. This feature was the hardest part of making the prosthetic. Converting neural impulses into something a machine could not only understand but actually translate into action that didn’t look clanky and awkward was probably the most frustrating challenge you have ever faced.

You tap the interface again and it fades back to metal. “Inside each finger is a tool you can use out in the field,” you continue, having each finger retract to show knives, cutters, and even a poison vial.

“And lastly…” you make the fingers reverse their action and then retract the entire hand, revealing the scomp. “If you want to use the scomp link, you can do so without having to take the entire hand off!”

Echo stares at the scomp link uncomprehendingly. He’s doing that a lot. Echo doesn’t say anything, hesitantly touching the prosthetic with his flesh hand.

“Right–uh, well, this is only the first prototype, so there are still a lot of problems with it. I have to run a debugger through the code again and make sure the cloaking tech holds up in the field since planet environments can really impact the way everything works. There are a bunch of tests I need to–”

“I love you.”

You stop abruptly, mind short-circuiting as you glance up at Echo in surprise, clearly not expecting such a phrase to cut off your anxious ramble.

“I–what?” you ask rather eloquently. You mentally facepalm. Nice going.

“I love you,” Echo whispers into the space between you, a shared breath holding the weight of the phrase in the charged air. You search his eyes in question–does he mean it? You find your answer amidst the sparkling galaxies and twinkling stars in his warm gaze and you breathe in his confession before exhaling your own.

“I love you too, Echo.”

The smile that breaks out on his face is unrivaled. He scoops you up in his arms, much to your surprise, and spins you around, a laugh bubbling out of you both when your foot hits your chair.

Echo sets you down ever so gently, mellow kindness permeating his every action as he leans in. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart melts at the patient question because of course he can. Echo is so careful about never pushing boundaries, constantly taking the time to make sure you’re comfortable. And so, you answer him with a nod and shift your face to meet his lips.

It’s chaste and slightly awkward–Echo doesn’t know where to put his hands, instead hovering over your waist, and your nose bumps into his when you move. You both let out a quiet laugh of peace as you rest your head over his heart, his arms engulfing you in a hug. The cool, white lights of your makerspace shine down on you both as you breathe in the light sandalwood incense you light when you work. Rain patters the window gently and you sigh, listening to Echo’s calming heartbeat.

“Let’s go to sleep, cyar'ika.”

---

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 4.5.1 | part 4.5.2 | part +1 📍 (you are here!)

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

[on-my-way-to-the-woods]

Anyway, uh, it's been busy so here is a brief (lies, it's not brief, but I promise I'm only giving the highlights) summary of the last month.

Break for very long post

The Last Month - Abridged

F & I are splitting up (sorta). The hardest one to write, but it's going up top 1. because it came first and 2. because if I don't start with it I simply won't write it out. It's been slowly moving towards this for awhile now, but it's real now. Mostly, it's a case of conflicting needs and conflicting disabilities, so it's been rough on both sides. We're still living together, and planning to continue that way (even if we weren't though, who could afford the rent?) so it's still family of a sort, but not like it was

I uncovered a major issue at work (~2 days after F had me start sleeping on the futon) and it was a mess but we got it resolved within two days

Less than an hour after finding the issue mentioned above, I got the call that the relative I was planning on visiting in a week died

I figured risking air travel was probably a bad idea. It'd probably end fine, but I've not yet been trapped somewhere with one of the worse perfumes and a metal box hundreds of feet in the air with no ability to leave for several hours seems like a poor place to risk seeing exactly how far these reactions can go. (I don't want a joint funeral, I'm not catholic). So I chose to drive through the night instead - which is also a bad idea, but what can you do? Packing with no idea about how things are going to go was it's own mess.

The drive went surprisingly well. I took as few stops as possible and I have a new odor reducing respirator that is helping a lot - so it was only a handful of reactions & I was ready to stomp them out each time (yay albuterol & xyzal). Pretty much drove straight through except for gas and a 30min catnap here and there (don't try this at home kids, I'm setting a bad example). My good friend driving-though-the-dark-alone-listening-to-a-horror-podcast kept me awake just fine (I love you Left Right Game) (but again, don't try this at home)

Did the funeral things, got super sick in the church but was alright at the other venues. I must have looked really bad in the church though because my family didn't make a single snide remark about me bringing my dog on the trip during the entire time I was there.

Helped out with moving things around the house and dispersing some possessions. I drove a bunch of clothes (fragrant 🤦 but I had them in trash bags so it was mostly okay) back with me to donate to the various queer orgs around here. They'll appreciate the old natural fiber clothes more than the goodwill where most of it was going.

Made a detour specifically to bring my dog to the Atlantic. She had a blast. Nova has now officially crossed the country (W->E and also S->N).

On the drive back I went hiking the farthest I've been from a city in a long time and I felt so fucking alive. On the one hand, stunning experience - did 7mi (11km) in snow no problem as a short hike (since I was trying to make it back to bring F to a medical appointment) and I would have stayed out all day if I could. On the other hand, it's a little concerning if the only place I feel like myself is that far away from people. I can't afford a house & land in the middle of nowhere…

Also stopped by a place we used to live and walked our old neighborhood route. Nova was excited, but confused.

Wound up in a different park after hours and it might have been haunted

Made it back the day before F's appointment. Slept. Discovered that the one provider I liked less than the others (despite them all being equally friendly) uses perfume so I've just been allergic to them instead of disliking them for no reason (I kinda suspected so, but it was proven this time)

Had a rheumatology appointment to see if they had ideas about what my issue might be. This is the first time I have seen a doctor realize what it means when I say I'm having these reactions to fragrances, you could see it play out on her face: oh shit, fragrances are everywhere. Several times throughout the appointment she'd pause as she had a thought and then ask questions that were clearly checking in on my life outside of just the symptoms (e.g. "how do you get groceries?") which is something I haven't seen since F's GP (whose interest was in public health) moved away. I think it went well. She's running the usual bloodwork, partly just to check and partly because she knows that having ruled out some things already will make it more likely for me to get care from an allergist.

Toured more houses for rent, it just made me incredibly sad. You can see traces of someone's beloved home in some of these old houses, but landlords own them now and they just don't bother. Rotting garages, fences in pieces, trash in the yard, holes in the walls, doors that can't open all the way anymore. 'Just let the tenant do the work and foot the bill, people are desperate, we can let the house rot around them while they pay for the privilege and just buy another when it pops up.' (I have feelings on the matter)

Finally got my covid & flu shots. I had timed it specifically for when our favorite pharmacist works, but I hadn't considered the holiday rush would mean they have two on duty. I instead got our least favorite pharmacist (she does not like F) and it was an impressively bad experience. Sure love it when you tell a provider something has given you side effects every time and they tell you it won't do it 🙄 /s

Rheumatology bloodwork is back, I love receiving results online. I'm very interested in what she'll say at the follow up this week. By my read (science nerd, but no relevant medical training), it's… odd. A little contradictory, but it's indicating some shit is up - however, none of the main contenders would explain my fragrance reactions.

Got to volunteer with a conservation group in a safe area for me.  Had a fantastic time, was able to be around people and move and do something productive and satisfying.  Went back again and will continue trying to do these as I can.

Went with F to her allergy appointment and, ironically, had reactions myself the entire time.  Not just in the waiting room, but everywhere in the building.  Maybe it was their disinfectant? Hoping it was just a fluke because I used to be able to go there, even while dealing with this.

My allergy appointment went poorly, there's another (long) post about it, but the gist is that I now have VCD in my chart (despite the fact he said he doesn't know what is wrong with me and said maybe I should go to Mayo Clinic) & tests he didn't mention

I am currently arguing with insurance over >$10k and I'm not having fun