what did i do to deserve an ibs flare-up at 11 pm.......

Can I request a chishiya fluff? can you do reader taking caring of sick chishiya? we see chishiya taking care of reader but never a reader taking care of chishiya so i wanted to see! Thank you if you do!!

Stubborn

Summary: Who knew the worst patient on earth would be a doctor? Alternatively, the one where Chishiya is being stubborn and whiny because he ALLEGEDLY never gets sick.

Genre: fluff, normal!au, slight ooc chishiya

Pairing: reader x chishiya

Words: 1k

“___… ___… where’s my briefcase?”

You could hear him groaning from your room, undoubtedly prying himself up on the dresser again in the attempt to prove that he is totally not sick. With a fond sigh, you set the hot soup down on the tray, which also had a cup of warm tea and migraine medication.

Maneuvering past your boyfriend’s hunched-over form, you set the tray down on the bedside table before walking over to him and lightly taking his hands into yours. His polo shirt was buttoned asymmetrically, his hair tangled and tied into a messy bun. His eyes were half-closed from the headache and he sniffled every few seconds, but he was trying his best to stand up straight and look normal. Before you could open your mouth, he cut you off.

“I’m not sick. I never get sick.” His voice came out small and groggy, like shrapnel shredded his throat.

“Yes honey, sure you don’t,” you gave him a patient smile. Begrudgingly, he followed you back to the bed, never once letting go of your hand. You tucked him back in, suppressing a chuckle upon seeing a permanent grimace on his face, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. “I need you to finish the soup so your stomach is full enough for the meds.”

“I know that. I’m a doctor, ___, for fuck’s sake. I’m not sick,” he rolled his eyes, turning his face away from the spoon you held up. Hesitantly, his eyes darted back to meet yours. Upon seeing the pout on your face, he let out a long sigh, followed by a painful groan. He held his head in his hands, leaning over before he fully fell back into the headboard. “You hid my briefcase, I know you did.”

“Chishiya, I didn’t do anything to your briefcase. Maybe it’s God’s way of telling you to rest and drink your medicine,” you punctured the sentence with a light jab of the spoon.

He huffed before finally accepting your offer. “There is no god.”

“But there is a flu and right now your head sounds like it’s about to pop off. Don’t get all philosophical with me, doctor. If you be any more difficult, I’ll have to strap you to this bed,” you teased half-heartedly.

In all honesty, you were worried. Chishiya was right in saying that he never gets sick—which is exactly why it’s such a big deal when he does. When his immune system finally crashes down because of all the late nights and missed meals, it fully implodes. You were well aware of his tendency to be cocky and stubborn—though never towards you—but being sick definitely amplifies it. Why else would he be in an unpressed polo shirt looking for a briefcase all the while his skull felt like it was getting jackhammered?

Halfway through the bowl, you set the spoon down and pressed the back of your hand on his forehead. You gently swiped at the beads of sweat, frowning at how hot his skin had become. He had his eyes fully shut, barely containing a whimper.

“___, I’m dying.”

A laugh escaped your lips before you knew it. He opened his eyes slightly only to squint at you. “You’re laughing. I feel like I’m dying and you’re laughing.”

“You are not dying. You’re in the care of Dr. ___!”

“Which is exactly why I’m dying.”

“Hey!” you squeezed his arm lightly. To your relief, he was well enough to let out a small laugh. After that, he thankfully allowed you to keep feeding him without much resistance. When he finished all the soup, you gave his cheek a small poke.

“You’re starting to become the patients you hate the most,” you teased.

“I was born into the world to annoy you, actually,” he grinned, peering up at you with his honeyed eyes.

“You’re thankful you have a smart mouth and a cute ass,” you stuck your tongue out at him. Picking up the meds, you showed him the label to get his confirmation—which he gave to you with a worldless nod, his lips turning into a smirk.

“You love my mouth.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively. Your own cheeks burned, bringing a hand up to smack his arm lightly. He groaned again, this time more exaggeratedly. “That’s medical malpractice!”

“I’ll cheer you up once I get the sponge bath running,” you purr into his ear. His eyes lit up despite the pain in his head.

“Will you actually—”

“No, you’re sick. I’ll give you a special treat once you get better and only if you’ll be a nice patient for me.” You pressed the pill into his lips, letting it slip inside his mouth gently. Taking the glass of water, you carefully tilted it towards him and waited for him to finish drinking.

“Yes ma’am,” he beamed. You mirrored his smile, pressing a hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat. He covered it with his own, fingers automatically weaving with yours. 

“Rest, okay? I mean it. Go take a nap and I’ll wake you up when the bath’s ready” You leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. Feigning innocence, he turned his cheek towards you as well. With a playful eye roll, you pressed a kiss against it as well.

He rolled over, burying his head in the pillows and duvet. “I love you,” he murmured into the sheets. You almost didn’t catch it on the way to the bathroom.

“I love you too,” you called out to him. You opened the cabinet under the sink first before taking out his suitcase. Snickering to yourself a little, you tucked it back in. Right now, your main focus was to get the water temperature right. Beyond the water running, you could hear Chishiya’s snoring muffled by the duvet. Who knew he could be so dramatic?

Neigbors and headaches

Pairing: Loki×Fem!Reader (other than some thirst, platonic)

Warnings: intense pain, some thirst, touch of angst and lots of fluff/comfort.

Word Count: ~1.700

Thank you @tessathechild for proof reading and helping me! 💙

What, Sel has actually managed to finish and post something once?! Its a good day!! Yes, this one story made it out of my 22!! drabbles and WIP's I've got.

Just a little thing I wrote, thinking of my migraines I sometines get. Saying that, I have written this based on my experiences with a few extras sprinkled in. So this is a cofort/hurt fic.

Loki has been your neigbor for over a year, but you never really spoke. The occasional 'hello' but that was it. Sure you know who he is, would be hard not to, considering he and his collegues are all over the news. Saying that, you are aware of his powers, his heritage and title, to you that just meant there was somebody in the building able to help in case of a robbery or shooting. Other than that, he was just another neighbour on your floor.

Which brings us to the problem. Youve got a migraine, the worst one youve ever had. Normally its located to one side, but this time its just your whole head, pain thundering against you skull. Three days it plagues you already, which is also the amount of time you barely slept. You got about four hours in total, every time you did fall asleep when the pain let off of you for a while, you got violently ripped from slumber again. It never went away for long. Which only made the sleep deprivation worse. Working in this state has been a challange, actually getting your work done impossible. To your horror, your boss noticed today, threatening to cut your payment short would you not 'change your work ethic'. As if you deliberetly got a migraine keeping you off sleep for days.

And you cant go to the doctor either since you got them on your toes already. The sheer amount of pain medications you get perscribed is, understandably, a red flag. The dosage and intensity of them, an even bigger red flag, but what are you surpossed to do?! They just dont work, none of them did.

Which leads us to you, currently knocking on Lokis, or how you adress him, Mr. Laufeyson, door. Its almost 10pm and the lack of sleep let all your pride melt away. You did not want to bother him, but you just cant bare it anymore. Your job is on the line for crying out loud! After a short time, the door opens; an annoyed Mr. Laufeyson peeking through the gap.

"Can I help you?", he beats you to it, irritation etched in his features.

"I'm sorry to bother you at this hour, but I have a strange request." Your heart is beating in your throat, maybe this wasnt a good idea after all, he does seem pretty annoyed.

"What is it?", he sighs, opening the door a little more.

He is wearing forest green pyjama bottoms and to your delight or horror, you arent quite sure yourself, no top. He looks like a marble statue you would see in renown museums and galleries. His chest is on eye level with you, makeing it difficult to not stare at his neatly trimmed black curls there. Your eyes wander to his perfect pecs, his well defined ribs leading down to his chiselled abdomen. That V-line made your breath catch in your throat for a moment, the small trail of hairs leading back down to that, sinfully, low hanging silk. Your eyes linger on the impressive bulge of your opposite for a second, a cleaning of his throat ringing in your tormented head, makeing you wince briefly. But also, you snapped your eyes up to his face again, your eyes blown wide in shock.

"Is it not a little rude to knock on my door at this hour, just to stare when I ask you a question?", his words seem displeases, but his lips are curled into a knowing smirk.

Now you clear your throat, a blush dusting your cheeks pink "What were you saying again?".

He gave a low chuckle, shakeing his head, "I was asking to what I owe your visit, Miss       L/n.".

"Oh, yes, sorry. I- Ive got a bad migraine and could not sleep for three days now. I was wondering-", you stutter but get stopped by him.

"I see. Migraines are quite the torment for midgardians I have heard.", he lays a pointer finger to the bow in his upper lip, thinking.

"Yes. Mine arent affected by pain medications either, I would not bother you if they were.", you tell him earnestly, your eyes dropping to the floor.

"It is rather fine, shall we get to your apartment so I can figure out a way to help you?", he asks with a soft smile that calms you down like a weighted blanket.

"Really? Yes, that would be so nice of you, thank you so much." You sway a little, pulling at your sleeve.

"Let me just get a shirt and some shoes and I will be right there.", he tells you, leaning the door closed.

A moment later he returns, now wearing a basic grey v-neck shirt and some brown slippers. "After you.", he gestures with his hand.

You nod enthusiastically, which you instantly regret, your pain reigniting like pouring gasoline to an open flame. You groan in pain, holding onto the nearest wall, your head feeling like it is sinking and rising repeatedly.

"Are you alright?", he grabs your upper arm, holding you stable.

You groan a "yes".

"I dont think you are, lets get you home, come on.", he hooks an arm around you waist, helping you over to your door.

You dig out your keys, trying to open the door, but your vision is playing tricks on you. He grabs them from your hands, "Allow me.". He quickly has the door open, nudging it open with his foot. Finally inside, with your shoes off and seated on your little two-seater sofa, you look at him. The pain eased off a little by now.

"Thank you, Mr. Laufeyson. I'm very sorry for the trouble.", you twiddle your thumbs.

"No trouble at all. Call me Loki please.", he sits down next to you, a friendly smile playing on his lips.

"Y/n.", you smile back at him. There is a comfortable silenence for a bit, until another groan of yours breaks it.

"Its worse again?", you hear his voice through cotton balls, thats what it sounds like at least.

"Yea.", you whimper, unable to explain it further. He waits until your eyes open again and you take a deep breath.

"So it comes and does in waves?"

"Its always there, but I can function with that pain. But then there are these sudden intense pains that just have me helpless.", you explain to him, noticing you are a bad host, "I'm sorry, would you like something to drink? Tea perhaps?".

He waves it off, "You were barely able to speak a momemt ago, let alone brew tea. I am just fine, thank you. And those pains, are they pulsating, throbbing, stabbing,..?".

You think about it, "The normal, bearable pain is pulsating, the sudden ones are throbbing, like a jackhammer.".

He humms his confirmation and thinks for a moment. "I think I have a spell that could help with that, though only temporaryly I'm afraid.", he looks at you a little sad.

"That sounds good, please just make it stop for now at least.", you beg him, the desperation clear in your voice.

He nods, "Make yourself comfortable.". You lean back into the cushions, to which he whispers, "Very well.".

He turns to face you better, giving you direct view of his jaw muscles. "You will feel a tingling first. After that you will alternately grow cold and very warm. Do not worry, that is totally normal.", he explains to you calmly.

"Understood."

He lays his hand on your head, palm flat against your forehead. You look at it expectedly. "Close your eyes?", he suggest, you follow, "Lovely. Now just stay calm and breathe for me.".

Just as he finishes what he says, you feel your skin tingle, growing warm after a brief moment. Very warm and then suddenly cold. Then warm again, but it stays at a soothing temprature, like a heating pad.

The pain subsides, almost like a wave washing it into nothingness. You smile and humm at the peaceful release from your torment. You havent even noticed in how much pain you were for the last thee days straight, until it was gone.

"Better?", he asks you.

You leave your eyes closed, savouring this moment of peace, you confirm his question with a 'mhhm'.

You hear his low timbre of voice tell you something, but you cant grasp his words. Your exhaustion kicked in right away, sleep taking you in a matter of seconds.

"Should it come up again and bother you or if you have any side effects, come to me at once.", Loki tells her but doesnt get an answer.

He feels her body growing limp. "Y/n?", he asks her in a whisper, only getting her even breath as confirmation.

She fell asleep. He smiles to himself, 'Poor thing is exhausted.'.

He gets up to leave, but as he's stood in front of her door, he glances over one last time. 'She would rather sleep in her bed, I guess.', he thinks as he sees her beginning to slump over to the side.

He walks over to her bed, drawing back the covers and then goes to collect her into his arms. Carefully as not to wake her, he walks over and sets her down. He makes sure her head lays comfortably and drapes her duvet over her.

He conjures a piece of paper and a pen, writing her a little message.

Dear Y/n,

you fell asleep, so I took the liberty of moving you to your bed, ensuring you sleep comfortable.

I did lock your door by magic, but you can unlock it as usual.

Just in case you ask yourself how that took place.

I hope you are well rested and pain free when you read these words.

Loki.

He places it on her nightstand and leaves her apartment, locking it as he told her in the letter. That night, he, too, had a peaceful sleep, feeling a sense of pride of being able to help this sweet neighbour of his.

When you woke up, you were confused at first, but quickly found the note Loki left you. You are so ashamed for falling asleep on him, not even thanking him for helping you. How embarrassing.

You defently owe him one.

hi kay!! i'll be getting to your request asap! in return, i have a request for you!

how does armin comfort his s/o who suffers from chronic headaches and/or migraines?

Hey Boo!!! I saw your post earlier. Hopefully these help give you a little bit of much needed comfort.

I’m sorry that it’s not really long. But I don’t want you to make your headache worse by reading a long ass fic. I’ll expand more when you’re feeling better boo!!

Doctor Arlert to the Rescue

Summary: When you wake up with a migraine, Armin does everything to take care of you.

TW: None just fluff unless you count mention of migraine

He knew before you even did. When you’d come to bed the night before, you’d been complaining of a slight headache. But when Armin was attempting to massage your neck in order to give you some comfort, he felt an extremely tight knot at the base of your skull. No matter how much he attempted to get the knot out, it was no use.

So when you woke up in the morning with a groan, Armin already had the bare essentials waiting on the bedside table.

In a little paper cup, you found some over the counter pain relievers, a bottle of water, and a handwritten note in his delicate handwriting.

‘I had a really strong feeling you’d wake up with a migraine this morning Angel. Bean is with Jean until your migraine goes away. If you’re reading this, I’ll be home soon. Just dropping off the princess and getting some stuff for you. I love you and I’ll be home soon,’

A soft smile played at your lips as you managed to read the words before taking the pills and putting your head back on the pillow.

“Angel?” Armin whispered as he sat next to your sleeping body, and placed a warm rice sock against the base of your neck.

“Once that was firmly in place, a sigh left your lips and you felt your husband’s deft hands gently rub circles into your back.

“Here,” he spoke gently, holding out a few saltine crackers out to you.

He needed to cross all of the possible culprits of your migraine off the list.

You slowly sat up, wincing a little as your head made you regret moving.

“Go as slow as you need Angel,” Armin urged.

“Have some water after,” Armin kept his words at a minimal volume and length- knowing sound was your worst enemy when you were like this.

Armin held up a package of your favorite tea blend that Levi made specifically for migraines. You held up a thumb. Armin grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, and pressed his lips against your knuckles. Gently, he handed the water bottle to you, before readjusting the rice sock to your forehead, the faint scent of lavender meeting your nose and calming you further.

A few minutes later, Armin came in with two mugs, both already with as much honey as you both like, to avoid the clanging of silverware against your mug.

“If you don’t finish it, I’ll transfer it to your thermos,” he pulled softly on your blackout curtains that you had for this specific occasion. To give a little bit of light, enough to safely move around, Armin flipped on the fairy lights strung along the crown molding.

His oceanic eyes met yours and gave a thumbs up and down motion, making sure the room wasn’t too bright. You gave a thumbs up and a slight smile tugged at your lips at the relief that the blackout curtains alone gave you.

“Do you want me to give you a massage after your tea?” Armin asked and you nodded.

And so that’s how you spent the rest of the day. Armin was his own boss so he was able to devote every minute to making sure that you were better. Sasha had sent along a video almost around dinner time of her holding your and Armin’s little Princess, as the toddler blew a kiss to the camera.

“Feel better mommy,”

And feel better you did. With Doctor Arlert taking care of you.

My friends really wanted me to upload this angsty voxman drabble so… here! It's 668 words, and the starting/ending is intentionally ambiguous. 👍

Disclaimer: This is VERY very VERY heavily based on a scene from this fanfic. I thought it was interesting, and wanted to expand upon it further, but not enough to make an entire oneshot.

Second Disclaimer: This deals with alcohol misuse, and two mentally ill people sucking butt at relationships. The situation IS toxic, but this isn't meant to be an end all be all thing, they love each other immensely I promise.

Drabble is under the cut :)

_________________________________________________

Venomous had already finished two glasses of wine… but he craved more than just that. He craved something of a different flavor profile, specifically and Boxman had such a thing, right in his grubby little talon.

"Are you going to finish that…?" Venomous loomed over the other, very obviously looking down at his half drank glass of brandy.

"You've already had enough," Boxman rolled his eyes.

He hates when he gets like this, and it's always because of stupid Billiam and his stupid parties…

"Aw come on Boxy… don't be that way. I'm as sober as a judge," Venomous winked at the other and made a little clicking noise.

This… behavior truly frustrated Boxman… but, he loves Professor Venomous, and that includes every side of him. Even if that meant he had to deal with his provocative side. In fact, maybe if he turned this into a game it could get him out of this alcohol crazed muck, at least for now.

"You know… your charm isn't as effective as you think, P.V…!" Boxman cackled evilly, before he downed the rest of the drink.

He then gave Venomous a smug grin, "Now you can't have it!"

Venomous grumbled, clearly aggravated. Seems the 'game' didn't work well on him.

Boxman sweat slightly but he could still save things! He just needed to take a different approach… one more methodical.

"Oh don't be like that Professor… I'm HELPING you, the more you drink, the more I'll have to deal with you in the morning," Boxman did his best to force a smile.

Perhaps it was the alcohol or the fact Boxman was preforming unmediated surgery on his ego, but that little comment really got to him,

"Oh, so I'm something you have to deal with now?" Venomous narrowed his eyes at Boxman, his voice however, remained relatively calm, considering the accusatory nature of his words.

The smiling façade quickly faded, and the nervousness of the situation intensified. "I- P.V that's not what I meant! Y-You just get very… fussy when you get migraines, b-but Lord Boxman is MORE than happy to take of you…!"

"So I am?!" Venomous hissed, "You think you can doll up your contempt for me I won't notice? Hm? Is that it?" This time, Venomous raised his voice, and people were now very obviously staring.

Boxman hated to admit it, but Venomous really scared him sometimes, not in the exhilarating way. But in the way that makes him terrified to exist in his presence, terrified that he'll breathe the wrong way, say the wrong things, give the wrong look. Though, to Boxman, the worst part of it all was knowing that these were the times Venomous hurt the most. He knows that he only lashes out because he's afraid; but that doesn't make Boxman any less fearful.

In spite of… everything, Boxman was willing to try and be a source of comfort. He didn't know what's wrong with P.V to get him in these states, but he wanted to be there for him to help push through things.

He placed his fleshy hand on Venomous’ arm, "P-Professor… I don't have contempt for you, I want you to stop drinking because I care about you…! Maybe I went about it the wrong way at first, b-but… I thought you would like it more if I acted joyful…"

Venomous flicked Boxman's hand off of him after he finished speaking, and just as angry before, he remarked.

"I'm sick of your bullshit, Boxman."

Swearing. Something which the two of them avoid… something which Venomous just did. Boxman has a very high tolerance for Professor Venomous’ behavior, but this is so… INEXCUSABLE! He's just TRYING to be mean.

"You… you…" He growls. "WE ARE NOT SPEAKING FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT!"

"Fine by me," Venomous sneers.

Both headed in the opposite direction of one other, both pretended not to care. But both felt emotionally distraught at the feeling of not having the approval of one another.

BAE if you wanna,, can you write like a lil slice of life, just being murderdock's housewife ya know, maybe cooking him dinner in a lil apron :)))) ily

mags, my love!! thank you sm for your request!! ily2 🥰 sorry i went a bit off the script but i still hope you love it!

-----

When you wake in bed after falling asleep on the armchair in the living room, you know your husband made it home safely last night. Sitting up in bed, you glance over at his empty side, but when you run your hand over it, it’s warm. You smile, grabbing his button up shirt off of the floor and throwing it on yourself.

You find him cooking breakfast. He’s got sweatpants and an apron on, forgoing a shirt in your favor. Once he senses you, a lopsided smile plasters itself on his face.

“Good morning.” He says, rounding the marble island to make his way to you.

“Mhm, good morning indeed.” You say before he presses his lips to yours. In a casual display of strength, he lifts you and sits you down on top of the island. Breaking apart for air, he drops his head on your shoulder as you run your fingers through his hair.

“How was work?” You ask.

“I want to quit, and I own the company.”

“Ah, but you’re still going to go today, aren’t you?”

“Yup. But it should be a crime to be away from you.”

“I’d gladly arrest you.” He laughs.

“Sure, so would hundreds of other cops and government officials, except the ones I’m paying off.” He grabs a piece of toast and breaks off a small bite to feed to you.

“Matt, why don’t you take a day with me? We can go to the coast, just you and me.”

“As wonderful as that sounds,” he kisses you, “I do have to run the business.”

“What if I came with you today?” He tuts.

“It’s always going to be too dangerous for you to visit me, I can’t guarantee your safety in that building the way I can here. Maybe if I’m held up- and the office is empty- you could come by with dinner tonight?” You sigh.

“Fine, but you have to promise that you’ll try everything to be home before dinner, okay?”

“I’ll try everything, I promise. Now c’mon, breakfast is ready and I made tea.” You shake your head before he kisses that stupid smile off of your face.

——-

It’s now three in the afternoon and you’re bored out of your mind. Matt’s been gone since nine, and when he called you during his lunch break, it sounded like it was going to be a long night. You couldn’t be mad, at the end of the day Matt gave you an out before the two of you got serious and you fell even harder. You knew what you signed up for the second the two of you made your first public outing together. This life, as luxurious and glamorous as it seemed, was not for the faint of heart. Every night you spent without Matt was taken up by worrying if he’d even make it home. He made so many enemies in this life and it scared you.

Before you could spiral even further, you texted Matt that you loved him and ask what he wanted for dinner, unsure if he would respond because of how busy he was, and then turned on some music and began to tidy up. Matt had a bad habit of buying anything you even glanced at, which resulted in the Goodwill down the street overflowing with designer clothes. After sorting through those for a little while and creating a donate pile, you then focused on cleaning the kitchen and living room. All of your cleaning products had to be all-natural, or they’d cause Matt the world’s worst migraine because of his sensitive nose.

Once you finished with the tasks to keep you distracted, you checked the clock to see that it was now six in the evening. Checking your phone to see if Matt had texted back, you found nothing. Deciding to just stay at home and not go to Matt’s office, you raided the kitchen for ingredients for your favorite comfort pasta recipe. Turning on some music so you feel less alone in Matt’s big penthouse, you begin to sway as you pull an apron on and begin to cook.

While you’re distracted, you don't hear the front door open to reveal a tired and frustrated Matt, who wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in your arms, and when he walks through the entryway and hears you in the kitchen, singing under your breath, he can already feel your skin under his fingertips as his legs take him straight to you.

“Matty! You scared me.” You jump, startled.

“I’m sorry, bug. What’s cooking?”

“Pasta, I made a little extra if you haven’t eaten anything yet.”

“I know something else I can eat.” You smack his shoulder.

“Matthew!” He wraps his arms around you from behind you and flutters light kisses all over your cheek as he chuckles.

“I’d love some pasta.”

—--

After eating, the two of you make your way to the couch, where Matt tries to grab some contracts and run his fingers over the braille.

“No. No work at home, you’re mine now.” You snatch the paper out of his hand and toss it onto the coffee table before making your way onto his lap. Grabbing a blanket, you toss it over the two of you before settling your head on his chest.

“Alright, boss. What do you want me to do instead?” He tilts his chin down and captures your lips in a sweet, short kiss.

“Continue with that, I’m sure we’ll find something to occupy our time with.”

Mom's Done

Just a little something I started but didn't finish. I liked how the beginning came out.

~~~

“Welcome to Hell.”

Tom Wachowski blinked. Of all the things his wife ever said to him when he returned home after work, this was a new one.

“Come again?” Other sounds registered to him then—loud crying, and an angry monologue in a deep voice. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, the usual,” Maddie said, leading him through the house into the kitchen. “Just another fine day in the Wachowski household.”

The noise was coming from the dining room, right next to the kitchen. A red echidna stood on the dining table, his muzzle pulled back in a fierce snarl.

“A warrior is honorable and true,” he growled, pointing a gloved hand at Maddie. “And you are neither!”

Seated at one of the chairs was a small yellow fox cub, currently crying as though his little heart had broken.

“Okay, I’ll ask again,” Tom said, shaking his head. “What’s going on?”

“Let’s rewind, shall we?” Maddie said, speaking loud enough to be heard over the ranting echidna and crying fox. “This morning, right after you left for work, these darling children of ours wasted no time acting up. Sonic immediately started poking at Knuckles, who, predictably, responded with violence. They broke the coffee table and another lamp in their ensuing fight. Then Tails decided to ‘examine’ my work laptop, and now it won’t boot up properly.”

“Yikes.”

“Oh, that’s not the best part. I told them they had one chance to knock it off and behave, or else I’m canceling movie night tonight and they’ll go to bed right after supper. They all promised to do better. Then lunchtime came. All three wanted different things, which I made because I’m trying to be a good mother.”

“I take it peace didn’t last.”

“Immediately after putting their plates down, Tails decided he wanted something else. Sonic and Knuckles were kicking each other under the table. Next thing I know, food’s flying and I have a pretty good idea who threw that first chicken nugget.”

Tom looked around the kitchen. Evidence of the food fight still stuck to the cabinets and floor.

“Then, after I had enough and told them movie night was off, this happened.” She gestured to the scene in the dining room. “Tails hasn’t stopped crying and Knuckles has been alternating between questioning my honor and loyalty to an honored tradition, and what I assume is cursing me in his native tongue.”

The red echidna seemed to demonstrate by switching to a different language and spitting out a string of angry sounding words.

Tom shook his head. “I hesitate to even ask, but where’s Sonic?”

“Oh he declared me ‘Worst Mom EVER!’, ranted about what a travesty this punishment was, screamed about hedgehog rights, and started looking a little too sparky for my liking. So I tranqed him.”

Tom’s eyes went wide. “You tranqed our son?”

“You did it first!”

“Yeah but he wasn’t our son at the time! And I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“Oh relax,” she said, waving a hand. “These are the specialized darts I made for him specifically, remember? They’re barely more than Xanax in a dart. He’ll wake up in about,” she checked her watch, “five minutes, give or take.”

“Woof. You’re holding up well, considering.”

“I have a thumping migraine, am exhausted, and am thisclose to calling the pound,” she said, holding a thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart. “These three don’t listen to me AT ALL and I feel pretty much done with things right now.”

“Guys, knock it off!” Tom shouted over the din. “Knuckles get off the table.”

The echidna gave him a little snarl but jumped down. Tails’ cries slowed to quiet sobs.

“You see?” Maddie said, gesturing to the dining room. “You they’ll listen to. Because you’re the ‘good cop’. I get to be ‘bad cop’ all the time. You give them Dad jokes and manly advice and fun stuff, while I remind them about homework and chores and cleaning their rooms. Dad talks and everyone listens. Mom talks and it’s ignored.”

“Oh come on, babe,” he said, curling an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “You know that’s not true. Your boys love you.”

“Yeah well, I’m not feeling it right now,” she said, sounding tired. “I try my best to give them all a good life, to hopefully make them feel loved and included, and I feel like all I do all day is try to keep a too-smart-for-his-own-good fox from dismantling everything we own, and referee fights between the spike twins.”

As if by cue, a groan rose up from the corner of the dining room. A gloved blue arm grabbed the corner of the dining table and Sonic pulled himself up.

“Uughh,” he moaned, holding his head with his free hand. “Wha happened?”

“She shot you,” Knuckles said with a smirk. “Because you have no control.”

Sonic looked up, confused. “Shot me?” he said, before looking down at himself. A small dart still poked into his left leg. He gasped, looking up at Maddie. “You shot me?!?”

“Tag,” she said, tapping her husband on the arm. “You’re it. I’m out. I’m getting a shower and maybe a nap.”

They all watched her head toward the stairs.

“Good luck with the Cryptid Crew!” she called as she climbed.

~~~~~

Like this? Check out my other snippets. Reblogs are appreciated!

Colby part 6.2

warning: hangover (vomiting and stuff) and i think that it

words (pt.2): 824

Once I started to run the warm water I waited with Colby until the bath was ready, I left the room and closed the door until Colby got undressed and entered his bath, he yelled at me, I entered so fast that I was scared that I broke the door. I asked him if everything was ok he said yes I was just wondering if I could have something to eat I sight in as my worst thought that could happen to Colby went away  I smiled and said of course as I was about to leave he whined I turned around and he was pouting for some reason I asked him what was wrong, he said that I was about to leave without kissing him, I shook my head what a baby I thought I approached him and kissed him. He asked me if I could wash his hair while giving me the puppy eye, I had no choice but to say yes as I was doing that, he told me that he had a migraine I gave him a soft smile and got out leaving him with the soap in his hair. I came back with Tylenol, and he gladly took them then I gave him a glass of water he took the medicine thank me and I continued washing his hair. When I was done, I kissed him on his lips and told him I’m going to make the food that he asked for earlier, I asked Colby what he wanted, and he told me he wanted grilled cheese. I went to the kitchen to make his grilled cheese while Colby was still in the bath. After I was done making his grilled cheese, I went knocking on the bathroom door he opened and I saw him in his cute pyjama, I told him his grilled cheese was on the table. We got there and he sat down I went and gave him a glass of milk with it he smiled at me still looking pale.  Pulled me to his lap, I giggled and began eating his food and drinking his glass of milk while I was resting my head back on his shoulder. Once he was finished, he kissed me on my forehead, that was his way to say thank you. Later in the day, I got a text from Sam, he was asking if Colby was ok and how he was feeling if I needed any help, I responded that Colby was vomiting this morning and he took a warm bath and now he was a lot better, but he had still had his migraine and I did not need of any help. He texted back saying ok at least he's better now and he was going to take a nap. It was now 9h30pm, and Colby had this idea to watch a horror movie together, I asked him which movie he wanted to watch, he wanted to watch the conjuring. I got the popcorn, snacks, and drink for us while Colby was preparing the movie. We got on the sofa, and we lay down. Today he wanted to be the small spoon I accepted because this only happens every time he has a hangover. I was so happy that he was the small spoon because he looked so adorable, especially with his cute pyjama, I picked for him.  We started to watch the movie, eating our snacks. We got to the middle of the movie that was the scary part comes on he got scared so he buried his face into my neck I kissed him on the top of his head. Later in the movie he was beginning to grow tired, and I noticed. I asked him if wanted to go to bed, and of course, he was denying the fact that he was tired. I told him we could stop the movie and watch it another day and I explained that he needed rest, after a couple of minutes of trying to convince him to go to bed, he agreed we got up and closed the tv and put away our snacks and we headed upstairs I got changed, I asked Colby if it was okay for me to take one of his pair of boxers, he smiled and said of course. I put on one of his hoodies and went into bed next to him. After a few moments, I felt Colby getting on top of me and resting his head on my chest I asked him what he was doing, and he told me that he wasn't comfortable next to me, I giggled at his response, I put my hand on his head playing with his hair until he fell asleep. After he was sleeping, I watched him not in a creepy way but in a sweet way thinking how lucky I have him. After a few minutes, I drift off to sleep.

Mystery of the Eagle

AO3 link here

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn (Please ask if you would like to be updated when I update or write new stories)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

------

Alan groaned as he came around, shapes and colours swirling into focus. His limbs were heavy, and he struggled to lift a hand to his head, rubbing his temple in a vain attempt to soothe the ache. He was bound to have a whopper of a concussion right now and a migraine later, but that was future Alan’s problem to worry about. Right now, current Alan’s issue was finding out what had hit him.

The blurs finally came into focus, and Alan breathed a sigh of relief when his surroundings revealed he was still next to Thunderbird One. Good. He started to rise to his feet, but gasped when he felt a heavy boot on his back, pushing him down again. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

Alan’s eyes widened. “Agent Omega…” He growled out. If the agent had taken anything or had pictures of Thunderbird One-

“Relax.” Omega huffed in that cold robotic voice of theirs. “My Master doesn’t currently want your secrets. I’m just here to give you a warning. You’ll be free to go once I’m finished here.”

Alan frowned. “What do you want, then? What warning?” He didn’t like this one bit.

“Why, to stay out of our way of course.” Omega’s smirk was audible. “As for what we want, we’re on a need-to-know basis, and you don’t need to know.”

“Then just tell me one thing…” Alan started as Omega lifted him up, tying his hands and legs together with a thick cord. “You were piloting the Eagle, weren’t you?” He grunted softly when the knots were tied a bit too tightly. Omega ignored his discomfort. “That’s why I didn’t find the crew. And that’s why there was no answer.” His eyes narrowed. “I still don’t get the crash, though.” 

“Very astute, Tracy.” The agent growled, finishing the final knot with a flourish, angry that Alan had figured it out so quickly. “As for the crash, I’ll admit that the controls of the Eagle are unfamiliar to me…”

“So, you got something wrong.” Alan smirked. The grin was promptly wiped from his face when Omega glared at him.  

The agent scoffed. “You’re in no position to act so smug, my friend.” They turned away, presumably to carry out their mission. “Just sit tight for now. By the time your pathetic family comes looking for you, I’ll be long gone with my prize. You can try and catch up all you want, but you’ll never beat me and my Master…” They finished ominously, retreating into the treeline.

Alan thanked his lucky stars that tying him up was the worst thing Omega had done to him. He knew the agent was capable of far worse. Now, all he could do was wait for rescue, mulling over what Omega had revealed to him. What could the Hood possibly want with the Eagle?

------

Virgil breathed a sigh of relief as the vast jungle of Borneo faded into sight, gripping his hands tightly on the wheel. He prayed to whatever god might be up there that his little brother was okay. He just had to be…

Triangulating the beacon of Thunderbird One was easy. Now he just had to get his brother out of whatever mess he’d managed to land himself in. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Alan’s prone form on the ground next to the rocket plane. Worry blossomed in his chest even more when he saw his brother tied up. That was quickly banished when Alan gave him an earful, however.

“You took your time.” The astronaut said sharply, although he was grinning when Virgil took out a knife from his sash and began sawing at the ropes.

Virgil harrumphed. “I know, I know…” The bindings around Alan’s wrists gave way. “Who did this to you?” His voice promised pain to whoever was responsible.

Alan huffed. “Relax, Virg.” His legs were freed, and Virgil helped him to his feet, stepping back as the younger brother stretched his cramped limbs. “Omega’s long gone by now…” 

“Omega?!” Virgil’s eyes widened. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“No. I’m okay.” Alan sighed. “They took the Eagle though. They’d been piloting when it crashed.” He relayed the information he’d found out just a couple of hours prior. “There was no crew to help because there was no crew in the first place…”

Virgil hummed, rubbing his chin in thought. “I’m starting to think me and Scott are right with our theory…” He muttered, prompting a look from his brother.

“What theory?” Alan questioned, intrigued.

The elder brother smirked. “You’ll find out soon enough. For now though, let’s get these ‘Birds home…”

------

“So, that’s about it.” Gordon finished his story as his family listened intently. “I was allowed home pretty soon after. Tara’s still over there to help with the search, but I doubt they’ll find it.”

Jeff hummed after a few moments. “A stolen supersonic craft, transport plane, and now submarine…” He glanced over at his eldest sons. “Guess you two were right on the money.”

“Virgil mentioned they had a theory, but I have to admit that I have no idea what it is…” Alan sighed. He’d been under Scott’s watchful eye from the moment Thunderbird One had touched down, and he honestly couldn’t blame him. He’d be worried to if it was the other round.

“Your brothers reckon the Hood’s assembling his own Thunderbird fleet.” Jeff explained. “I’m inclined to agree, after what was just taken from the USAF and WASP.”

“Th-that’s why they w-wanted the F-Falcon, Mr T-Tracy?” Brains asked.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “The Falcon?”

“The working name of the rocket plane Omega stole from the Stirling Convention Center last month.” John spoke up from his portrait, catching his family's attention. 

Gordon grumbled. “They’re even copying the bird theme…” The aquanaut sighed when he saw everyone’s inquisitive expressions. “The WASP scientists called the experimental sub the Kingfisher…” He explained.

“Oh, great.” Scott could’ve facepalmed. “Guess they’ll go for a spaceship or a satellite next…”

Alan frowned. “But where are they possibly gonna get that?”

“Guess we’ll find out sooner or later. For now though, you all better head to bed. It’s been a long day for all of us.” Jeff huffed out, leaning against his desk as his kids all nodded, and filed out the room. The live-feed of John faded, replaced by a still portrait, leaving the patriarch alone to muse to himself. “Next time, Hood, we’ll be ready for whatever you throw at us...”

No matter how long I ponder at the thought, I cannot settle on which part of him being gone hurts the most.

I can’t tell if it’s the simple fact that the love of my life fell out of love with me while I was most in love with him. You left me over text less than 12 hours after you were holding me in your arms telling me how much you loved me.

Or if it is the fact that in the end, even though he said he was leaving so he wouldn’t hurt me more, he blocked me on everything and didn’t even let the conversation be finished. He left me wondering why I wasn’t even worth a goodbye for the rest of my life.

I don’t know if it’s the fact that I trusted him enough to be so many of my firsts, yet it was all just another day to him. I shared with him parts of me that I’d never shared with any other soul and he wasn’t even willing to share what he did on his phone with me. I can never get those parts of me back.

I feel like I can’t ever live again. Every aspect of my life reminds me of him, because I was with him almost every second. I can’t watch tv because we watched so many shows together. I can’t wash my hair with the products I have because they remind me of showering with him. I can’t sleep in my bed because I slept with him in it. I’m completely stuck between never wanting to shower or wash my sheets again so that my skin will forever be skin that he touched, or scrubbing every inch of my skin raw so that I don’t have to live with the thought of him with another woman’s DNA on him being stuck to my body for eternity.

I can’t tell if it is the complete and utter betrayal of laying with me while lusting after another, or the constant lies as he looked straight into my eyes and told me I was the love of his life and that there would be no future of his without me in it.

He was the first person I got to ever introduce to my whole family. I had to go to my family dinner today and have my dad tell everyone that you weren’t coming anymore because you left me. I wouldn’t have been able to say it myself without breaking down.

I don’t know if it’s the fact that I would’ve given my life for him. And I know that even after everything he did to me, if he came back I would be there. I didn’t deserve it. I don’t deserve any of this. The amount of love I gave him is something that I doubt many people ever experience in their lifetimes. But I still love him, and i don’t know if I ever won’t. I don’t know if I would have ever been able to leave him, and that hurts.

What I think honestly hurts the most, is the actual pain. My heart hurts, physically. Ever since you sent that text, it feels like there are hands wrapped around it squeezing it as tightly as possible. It feels like there is a lump in the back of my throat that will never go away. I have had the worst migraine ever since you left. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been crying so much or because my brain is genuinely in so much pain. When I cry now, I can’t breathe. It feels like something is stealing my breath. And nothing can fix this pain, no amount of distractions, Tylenol, or sleep can fix this. It is always here. The second I fall asleep, and the second I wake up. All I want is for you to come back but you aren’t the person you said you were. Nothing will ever be the same.

Long covid has derailed my life. Make no mistake: It could yours, too.

By Madeline Miller • August 9, 2023

Madeline Miller, a novelist, is the author of “The Song of Achilles” and “Circe.”

In 2019, I was in high gear. I had two young children, a busy social life, a book tour and a novel in progress. I spent my days racing between airports, juggling to-do lists and child care. Yes, I felt tired, but I come from a family of high-energy women. I was proud to be keeping the sacred flame of Productivity burning.

Then I got covid.

I didn’t know it was covid at the time. This was early February 2020, before the government was acknowledging SARS-CoV-2’s spread in the United States.

In the weeks after infection, my body went haywire. My ears rang. My heart would start galloping at random times. I developed violent new food allergies overnight. When I walked upstairs, I gasped alarmingly.

I reached out to doctors. One told me I was “deconditioned” and needed to exercise more. But my usual jog left me doubled over, and when I tried to lift weights, I ended up in the ER with chest pains and tachycardia. My tests were normal, which alarmed me further. How could they be normal? Every morning, I woke breathless, leaden, utterly depleted.

Worst of all, I couldn’t concentrate enough to compose sentences. Writing had been my haven since I was 6. Now, it was my family’s livelihood. I kept looking through my pre-covid novel drafts, desperately trying to prod my sticky, limp brain forward. But I was too tired to answer email, let alone grapple with my book.

When people asked how I was, I gave an airy answer. Inside, I was in a cold sweat. My whole future was dropping away. Looking at old photos, I was overwhelmed with grief and bitterness. I didn’t recognize myself. On my best days, I was 30 percent of that person.

I turned to the internet and discovered others with similar experiences. In fact, my symptoms were textbook — a textbook being written in real time by “first wavers” like me, comparing notes and giving our condition a name: long covid.

In those communities, everyone had stories like mine: life-altering symptoms, demoralizing doctor visits, loss of jobs, loss of identity. The virus can produce a bewildering buffet of long-term conditions, including cognitive impairment and cardiac failure, tinnitus, loss of taste, immune dysfunction, migraines and stroke, any one of which could tank quality of life.

For me, one of the worst was post-exertional malaise (PEM), a Victorian-sounding name for a very real and debilitating condition in which exertion causes your body to crash. In my new post-covid life, exertion could include washing dishes, carrying my children, even just talking with too much animation. Whenever I exceeded my invisible allowance, I would pay for it with hours, or days, of migraines and misery.

There was no more worshiping productivity. I gave my best hours to my children, but it was crushing to realize just how few hours there were. Nothing was more painful than hearing my kids delightedly laughing and being too sick to join them.

Doctors looked at me askance. They offered me antidepressants and pointed anecdotes about their friends who’d just had covid and were running marathons again.

I didn’t say I’d love to be able to run. I didn’t say what really made me depressed was dragging myself to appointments to be patronized. I didn’t say that post-viral illness was nothing new, nor was PEM — which for decades had been documented by people with myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome — so if they didn’t know what I was talking about, they should stop sneering and get caught up. I was too sick for that, and too worried.

I began scouring medical journals the way I used to close-read ancient Greek poetry. I burned through horrifying amounts of money on vitamins and supplements. At night, my fears chased themselves. Would I ever get relief? Would I ever finish another book? Was long covid progressive?

It was a bad moment when I realized that any answer to that last question would come from my own body. I was in the first cohort of an unwilling experiment.

When vaccines rolled out, many people rushed back to “normal.” My world, already small, constricted further.

Friends who invited me out to eat were surprised when I declined. I couldn’t risk reinfection, I said, and suggested a masked, outdoor stroll. Sure, they said, we’ll be in touch. Zoom events dried up. Masks began disappearing. I tried to warn the people I loved. Covid is airborne. Keep wearing an N95. Vaccines protect you but don’t stop transmission.

Few wanted to listen. During the omicron wave, politicians tweeted about how quickly they’d recovered. I was glad for everyone who was fine, but a nasty implication hovered over those of us who weren’t: What’s your problem?

Friends who did struggle often seemed embarrassed by their symptoms. I’m just tired. My memory’s never been good. I gave them the resources I had, but there were few to give. There is no cure for long covid. Two of my friends went on to have strokes. A third developed diabetes, a fourth dementia. One died.

I’ve watched in horror as our public institutions have turned their back on containment. The virus is still very much with us, but the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has stopped reporting on cases. States have shut down testing. Corporations, rather than improving ventilation in their buildings, have pushed for shield laws indemnifying them against lawsuits.

Despite the crystal-clear science on the damage covid-19 does to our bodies, medical settings have dropped mask requirements, so patients now gamble their health to receive care. Those of us who are high-risk or immunocompromised, or who just don’t want to roll the dice on death and misery, have not only been left behind — we’re being actively mocked and pathologized.

I’ve personally been ridiculed, heckled and coughed on for wearing my N95. Acquaintances who were understanding in the beginning are now irritated, even offended. One demanded: How long are you going to do this? As if trying to avoid covid was an attack on her, rather than an attempt to keep myself from sliding further into an abyss that threatens to swallow my family.

The United States has always been a terrible place to be sick and disabled. Ableism is baked into our myths of bootstrapping and self-reliance, in which health is virtue and illness is degeneracy. It is long past time for a bedrock shift, for all of us.

We desperately need access to informed care, new treatments, fast-tracked research, safe spaces and disability protections. We also need a basic grasp of the facts of long covid. How it can follow anywhere from 10 to 30 percent of infections. How infections accumulate risk. How it’s not anxiety or depression, though its punishing nature can contribute to both those things. How children can get it; a recent review puts it at 12 to 16 percent of cases. How long-haulers who are reinfected usually get worse. How as many as 23 million Americans have post-covid symptoms, with that number increasing daily.

More than three years later, I still have long covid. I still give my best hours to my children, and I still wear my N95. Thanks to relentless experimentation with treatments, I can write again, but my fatigue is worse. I recognize how fortunate I am: to have a caring partner and community, health insurance, good doctors (at last), a job I can do from home, a supportive publishing team, and wonderful readers who recommend my books. I’m grateful to all those who have accepted the new me without making me beg.

Some days, long covid feels manageable. Others, it feels like a crushing mountain on my chest. I yearn for the casual spontaneity and scope of my old life. I miss the friends and family who have moved on. I grieve those lost forever.

So how long am I going to do this? Until indoor air is safe for all, until vaccines prevent transmission, until there’s a cure for long covid. Until I’m not risking my family’s future on a grocery run. Because the truth is that however immortal we feel, we are all just one infection away from a new life.

Journal Log #02

Closure (?, Yes Matt, goddamn)

Monday, January 1st 2024

Yello, old friend. This is the first entry of 2024, and it’s time to finally put an end to one of my biggest mental decline closure.

Sophie A.

It feels weird and different to write and to see the name at the same time. A mixture of hatred and love. We wrote so much in a love letter and yet we’ll never able to express that to her. Was it our fault that we weren’t consistently and fast enough? Was I too slow while it was hot and I just let it simmer too long?

I wonder if it was really all my own doing that was achieving nothing that made her think since I’m not so aggressive and too little too late, I might as well go ahead with somebody else? I don’t understand and yet here I am blaming myself for something I didn’t do anything about it, or do so little about it.

Looking at the past timeline, we were trying to find our own ways that we didn’t really put much thought and attention to it. I guess because I was going for the safer route by giving her space and time for her to do whatever things she wants to do. I hardly knew her schedule and even if I did, I didn’t put too much thought into it.

I waited too long and there was no follow up in-between of conversation during that period of time. I really had no conversation topic to talk to her or to ask her. I also simply was to scared to do so because I was too scared to commit. I was entirely shocked by her respond on being reciprocate with my feelings. I was too stunned for myself and wasn’t really sure how to go about it.

Looking back, I simply could not have made that far. I’m overthinking my previous ways of reaching towards her. I simply do not understand myself enough to be able to court her. I was too selfish on myself and pride on the things that I did but never a concern towards her or simply ask her days. I was too scared, and now I suffer the aftermath and revelation.

Am I sad? Terribly yes. I pride on communication to my team and such, and self-reminded myself on that and yet I didn’t do so with her. My mental was declining even more when she reveal it to me, shyly, and convinced me to commit a post for something she should have done it herself. It was punch after punch and I simply felt regretful.

My entire week has been declining ever since with migraines, forgetfulness and hives. Hives is the worst and I still don’t know the cause. I really don’t get it but at the same time I’m blaming myself for things that I didn’t do. And now, we’re just friends? Honestly, it was my mistake for saying such thing but it was too late to ingest such as I’ve already knew it too late.

I just felt cringe with the paper craft I’ve made for her. I feel extremely embarrassed and regret for making such craft. I simply just stupid.

Do I like her now after all the things that had happened, yes, I am still. But, it’s more of friendship love that I like about her. I don’t think I would ever walk past liking her more than a friend. I found closure at the very least and now I can take a step back and regain my own strength. My own personality. I’ve asked myself, if I could tell her one thing if she gave me a chance, this is what I would say:

I can’t simply say I love you more than a friend as I do not know you well. I wish that I had taken the extra mileage of asking you out but I was too scared to do so because I felt that taking you away from your schedule isn’t what you want, and yet that was simply my assumptions. I should have asked. I wish I had taken more photos with you because you’re beautifully cute and pretty. Your smile lit up the room, yet you have this hidden motive behind those strength shield you put up for yourself for others to see. It’s like, was the smile really true?

I just want to rage right now. My mind is everywhere. I just don’t feel like finishing this journal but I know I need to get a closure. This may take time and I may need to detach myself away from her if I possible could. It’s gonna be a hard long endure of longing for love. Am I not loveable?

I couldn’t even bring myself to cry for this mistake I’ve made. Was it ever a mistake? I don’t know. I hate this feeling of uncertainty and yet I know the result of such. I love her? I wanted to be her best friend but I never tried to be so.

Nonetheless, I’m always happy and proud of her achievements. I will never stop supporting her. She is my friend and I love my friends. I care for my friends very much. She lost some respect from me but I would be able to separate the work and the person itself.

I don’t know. I’m clueless as to what do I do now. My year has been clueless since the I quit my job. I’ve had enough with everything and everything just came at a halt. I don’t know what to do. How do you tell someone you like them so much and yet you didn’t do anything about it beforehand? Definitely my fault.

Moon, please tell me, how could you be so beautiful yet so painful for me to look at now. Everything seems so blur, am I stupid?

I guess the sunset is beautiful now, isn’t it?

I'll be damned if I do it, damned if I don't I'll be lost if I love him, lost if I won't

My human heart won't mend itself When my own two hands are ripping out the seams Oh, it seems I'm my own worst enemy Oh, I'm doing it to myself

Can't feel your heartbeat If I never get a chance to say I miss you If I never get a chance to say I still do

hi, i saw one of your posts in the csf leak tag, the one about having a really bad reaction to a test involving a lumbar puncture? would i be able to ask what your experience with it was, or DM you about it? I'm about to have a cisternogram for chronic csf leaks and would like to be aware if something like that can go wrong (if you'd rather not that's fine too thanks anyway!)

Hi, I specifically had a myelogram. It seems from some quick googling that a cisternogtam uses an MRI while the myelogram uses a CT scan. They both use lumbar punctures (but in reverse instead of taking liquid out they put liquid in) so the possible complications are the same in terms of that.

For me I didn't have immediate effects afterwards (well the massive migraine when they tipped me over but that's expected) other than feeling sick. About 18ish hours later I woke up with the worst lower back pain—frankly the worst pain—of my life. I nearly gave myself freezer burn with ice packs because it was the only thing even remotely helping. I was transported to the ER by ambulance and admitted. I was given IV morphine which barley touched it. And eventually oxycodone, a steroid, and a muscle relaxer like every 4-6 hours. I nearly lost my ability to walk and needed a walker + nurse to go to bathroom. Eventually I got back to using my cane for short distances after the effects in my legs wore off.

But to this day it hurts like a fucking bitch at times and can weaken my legs especially my right one. I have like 3 ocxy left (I never finish prescriptions because I hate narcotics they suck) that I keep with me in case. The theory was that some of the nerves and muscles around my spine were inflamed but I wasn't given an MRI because reasons I'm too tired to get into (if this happens to you demand an MRI). I have an appointment with PCP in October about it and will probably have a referral to a local Spine Center for multiple reasons, this one included.

I wish I could give more helpful answers but it happened in like May(?) maybe April, and I still have absolutely zero answers, other than the ER's guess. And a lot of specialist doctors I had pre-scheduled follow ups with (who can't address this) just kind of horrified at the story I told them.

I never ever ever want anyone touching my spinal cord medically ever again..... but it needed to happen. I apparently have bone spurs in my spine that were preventing a non-specific lumbar blood patch from working.

ELLOOOO im back with my finals project for this semester

sequel to my cypher workspace headcanon thingy from months back and now its colourised -- hope yall like it!! though i kinda messed up some chronological details

the prequel:

 https://mangdreams.tumblr.com/post/669644610319056897/continuation-to-that-workshop-fan-concept-i-did

Psychic Scream

@lil-writer-523​ I told you I’d tag you if I wrote this fic. Here it is. Let’s get this show on the road 1.5k words

—

“Excuse me,” I said politely, edging around the tall man in the grocery store aisle who was standing between me and my quarry—Geordi’s favorite kind of chips. He shuffled just barely out of my way. Not as polite as I would have been, but the store was weirdly crowded for a Tuesday evening.

I tripped on my own toe on the way back to my little cart, staring at the man.

Why did he look so familiar?

I stuck my magic in his head. He had no aura. No one else in this store nearby did.

—been a long day—too many damn people in here—staring, why?—

“Can I help you?” he asked sharply.

His physical voice combined with the voice of his thoughts made me realize why I knew him.

Ben. Geordi’s ex. I knew his face and voice from Geordi’s memories that I caught flashes of sometimes when Geordi’s insecurities spiked. This was the man that destroyed my sweet boy’s self-confidence.

Rage gushed into my blood like a broken fire hydrant. I opened the gate between his mind and mine and started something that was... emphatically discouraged by every professor I’d had at D.A.M.N.. A psychic scream. I started it soft, low. Ben wouldn’t even notice it at first.

I painted an obviously-fake smile on my face. “Sorry. You just look familiar. Have we met before?”

“Don’t think so,” he said. His words were clipped. Geordi, baby, how did you ever fall for this guy? Was he always like this? I thought. Geordi was still at work and far out of my telepathy range.

“Just one of those faces, maybe?” I suggested. The psychic scream started building a little more. Ben winced.

“Maybe,” he grunted.

“Maybe you’re one of my boyfriend’s old friends. Do you happen to know a Geordi?”

Ben froze. “Geordi? As in G-E-O-R-D-I?”

I nodded.

“Well... yes. I did.”

I snapped my fingers. “That must be it, then. I must have seen you in a group shot on his phone or his Facebook or something. That makes total sense.” The scream kept building. He didn’t actually hear my mind and magic screaming at him. But unempowered minds weren’t built to take in the telepathic magic I was flooding his with. “Sorry to bother you.”

I waved vaguely, like I was going to leave.

“Hang on a sec,” Ben said. I paused. “Did you say boyfriend?”

“Yup!” I replied cheerfully.

Ben scoffed. “Best of luck to you. Geordi and I used to be together,” he said. “He’s a sweet guy he’s just a little...” Too much? I finished for him internally, seething. “He was a handful.”

I smiled. “Good thing I have two hands, then,” I said, raising both of them, one of them still holding the bag of Geordi’s chips. Ben’s eyes flicked to it and then back to me. I gave him a smile—one that obviously held sarcasm and sneering—before marching back over to my cart and dropping the chip bag in it. 

The scream was hard to hold onto. I heard Ben grunting behind me. A quick peek over my shoulder revealed him holding his head in pain.

There would be no lasting damage. He’d have a migraine for several hours and then he’d be fine.

He deserved so much worse for shattering Geordi’s self-confidence like a cheap vase, but it was the worst I could do without a major breach of covert. So I maintained the scream, building it slowly.

“Have a good day,” I said, saccharinely sweet and plainly meant to reveal I didn’t mean the words whatsoever. I moved to march off to locate the next item on my list.

“Wait,” Ben said. I could hear the strain in his voice. I paused and turned to face him. He was lowering a hand from his head. “How... how is Geordi? Has he ever mentioned me? My name’s Ben.” His right lower eyelid twitched and I could see him struggling against the building headache.

“Geordi’s doing better now. No thanks to you,” I said, keeping my tone even despite how desperate I was to sound hostile. “He did mention you, as a matter of fact. And he didn’t have to say it outright for me to piece together that you’re the reason his self-confidence was absolutely shattered when I met him. Constantly worried about being ‘too much, too soon.’ Scared that I’m going to leave him the way you did because he’s a little awkward.” I snorted derisively. “I don’t know what he ever saw in you, but you never deserved him. I love him so damn much—all I want to do is make him happy. Because he makes me happy. He deserves that. He’s sweet and thoughtful and silly and God I wish he’d never met you sometimes.”

I let the psychic scream reach its last crescendo and then cut it off abruptly. My Threads trembled from the exertion as I stalked away, shoving the cart ahead of me. I heard Ben grunt in pain from behind me.

—the hell just happened?—God, why does my head kill so bad right now?— was the last snatch of his thoughts that I caught before I yanked the rest of my magic out of his head. He didn’t deserve one more second of time, attention, or energy.

—

I tried not to slam the door to the apartment after I brought in the last load of groceries, dropping the bag on the kitchen counter. I leaned against the tiny, kind of pointless island and rubbed my temples.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Geordi asked.

I jolted so bad I knocked one of the cereal boxes I’d just bought off the island behind me. It clattered to the floor. My magic was too spent from the scream to even consider using psychokinesis to catch it. Swearing, then sighing, I bent down and picked the box back up.

The hardest part about dating an unempowered human after growing up in a whole damn family of Telepaths was the fact that he had no aura for me to know when he was home or not.

“Nothing. My magic’s running a little low, that’s all,” I replied.

“What for? Were you reading every damn mind in the grocery store?” Geordi asked, looking concerned. “Do you need some Advil?”

I shook my head. “It’s not at the headache point yet.” I lowered my head. “Can’t say the same for Ben,” I muttered under my breath.

“Wait, what?”

“Nothing. Talking to myself.”

“No. You said Ben. As in my ex?”

I rubbed my eyes. “Yes. I ran into him at the store. In the potato chip aisle. And I gave him a migraine that will last... oh... the next four hours at least.”

“How did you do that?”

I sighed again. “It’s called a psychic scream. Only Telepath specialists, like me, can harness enough Telepathic magic to pull it off. Some powerful Freelancers might be able to try, but they wouldn’t be as successful.” I cleared my throat. “Essentially, I poured so much magic into his physical brain that his body didn’t know how to react and started to give him a migraine to let him know something was wrong. But, ultimately, there is no lasting damage and human doctors wouldn’t find anything wrong in his brain. An empowered Healer would sense the echoes of the magic but somehow I doubt Ben would be able to have a check-up with one of them.”

“Why?” Geordi asked. “Why would you do that to him?”

“He hurt you. I wanted to make sure he got a taste of his own medicine, brief though it will be.”

“Cutie—you shouldn’t have—you could get in so much trouble—the Department—”

“Will never find out,” I interrupted. “He’s unempowered. It’s not like he’s going to report me to the Enforcers. And the Department is certainly never going to find out from me.” I snorted.

“Baby...”

“Geordi, you’re worth it. I love you. I love you so much. I know it was a stupid thing to do but... I don’t know. I recognized his face from your memories and I just... I saw red.” I started unpacking the grocery bags. “I’m a Telepath. Not an Empath. I’m not good at Empathic magic, either. I can’t feel your emotions. But I can hear your thoughts when you remember the hurt he caused you. And I wanted him to feel some of that, on a different level.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m fine that you two broke up since it means I get to be with you. But no one hurts my Geordi and gets away with it.”

Geordi wrapped me up in a hug. “Just... don’t let it happen again. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I’ll do my best, baby. Promise.”

Colby part 6.1

warning: hangover (vomiting and stuff) and i think that it

words ( pt.1) : 456

the next day I woke up and Colby was not there I begin to panic because we were drinking last night and did not know how he was feeling today I looked everywhere in the house for him as I walked past where was Sam was sleeping I saw a not saying that he went home early cause he did not want to bother us during the day and that he knew that Colby was on a hangover. I finished reading the note I felt bad about Sam leaving this early, but I remembered that I have to Colby, after 5 minutes of running around the house looking for him. Once I got near the bathroom, I heard him throwing up I knock on the door and heard his sick voice as he was responding I asked if I could enter after a few seconds, and he said yes again. I entered inside and I saw Colby on the floor next to the toilet, I sat down next to him rubbed his back and kissed his head. After a few minutes of sitting with him in the bathroom, he stopped vomiting. I kissed him again on his head and we got up, I grabbed a wet cloth and cleaned his face. I asked him if he wanted to have a bath, and he looked at me a nodded I told him to stay there as I go get clean clothes and a towel for him. Once I started to run the warm water I waited with Colby until the bath was ready, I left the room and closed the door until Colby got undressed and entered his bath, he yelled at me, I entered so fast that I was scared that I broke the door. I asked him if everything was ok he said yes I was just wondering if I could have something to eat I sight in as my worst thought that could happen to Colby went away I smiled and said of course as I was about to leave he whined I turned around and he was pouting for some reason I asked him what was wrong, he said that I was about to leave without kissing him, I shook my head what a baby I thought I approached him and kissed him. He asked me if I could wash his hair while giving me the puppy eye, I had no choice but to say yes as I was doing that, he told me that he had a migraine I gave him a soft smile and got out leaving him with the soap in his hair. I came back with Tylenol, and he gladly took them then I gave him a glass of water he took the medicine thank me and I continued washing his hair. When I was done, I kissed him on his lips and told him I’m going to make the food that he asked for earlier, I asked Colby what he wanted, and he told me he wanted grilled cheese. I went to the kitchen to make his grilled cheese while Colby was still in the bath. After I was done making his grilled cheese. I went knocking on the bathroom door he opened and I saw him in his cute pyjama, I told him his grilled cheese was on the table. We got there and he sat down I went and gave him a glass of milk with it he smiled at me still looking pale. Pulled me to his lap, I giggled and began eating his food and drinking his glass of milk while I was resting my head back on his shoulder.