Okay, hi, I finally have an update on the health situation!! Working towards an official diagnosis <3
We've figured out the general umbrella term for the things going on, and we're working on seeing which of the more specific diagnostic terms are going to fit me particularly.
I am... relieved at finally getting confirmation and answers as to what's going on, but I can't say I am not a bit scared as to what happens next.
My doctor is working on getting me officially tested for POTS, but I already fit under the general category of dysautonomia, aka my autonomic nervous system isn't doing it's job as well as I'd need it to.
I'm working with school staff and my health team to hopefully return to my studies before summer break, but I don't yet know if that's going to be possible. Still, already kind of excited about the possibility of maybe getting back.
Hope you've had a great day, I am very tired,
-R
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Gianni's Residence | Del Sol Valley, Simerica
Bria: Wow, a beautifully catered lunch by my son in my old home. Never thought I'd see this day.
Gianni: Thanks, Mom. I told the chefs to "prepare for royalty" so it better be good or someone's losing their job.
Bria: Oh, Gianni. You didn't have to go through any trouble for me.
Gianni: Of course, I would, Mom. I want you to know that... you know, I'm here for you.
Bria: Thank you, Gianni. That's very sweet.
Ella: D'aww! Who know Gianni had the capacity for sweet?
Bria laughs: Ella don't start picking on your brother.
Ella: I'm sorry! But, this is really nice, Gianni! Seriously.
Gianni: Gee, thanks Elle.
Bria: So, Gianni, how's work been going?
Gianni: It's alright. Kind of hectic right now. I'm constantly being pulled in a million different directions every day. But, overall, things are fine.
Bria: Have you been involved with your dad's case at all?
Gianni: Luckily, no. Now that the company is not responsible, our legal team is basically just proving the company's innocence. Dad is officially on his own. Even Ariana took my brothers and went back to Selva.
Bria: Good for her.
Ella: Dang, your dad's side is messy, G.
Gianni: You tellin' me.I'm just glad I'm past it all. Dad is definitely where he belongs.
Bria: I'm biased, but I completely agree.
Ella teasing: Any girls, Gianni??
Gianni: Can we have one moment where my love life isn't brought up?
Bria: Boo. Wrong answer.
Ella: Come on. There has to be at least one girl who will find you tolerable!
Gianni: Funny. When there is someone to talk about, I'll talk about them. I've said that a million times already.
Bria: Yes, you have. But, we're growing impatient. Me especially! This is a big house to live in all by yourself, Gianni.
Gianni: I'm not by myself.
Bria gets up: As cute as he is, Spike does not count!
Ella: Aw, he's so cute!!
Bria: I'm going to head to the restroom really quick.
Gianni: Alright, be honest, Elle. How is mom doing really?
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I doubt my lil ask with spark much muse bc I know how that goes as a writer, but!! Just wanted u to know that I am vv curious about bring me in from the pasture & where you take it. Good stuff right there!! 😌
OK see it's crazy because I have so much enthusiasm for this fic!! I had a wonderful brainstorming session with @kyberkenobi last month-ish and we came up with so many ideas! For some reason I'm just having a hard time actually motivating myself to write it
But you asked, so I sat down to bang this out last night!
[Obikin. Rated E. Hucow Obi-Wan.]
“Great!” Obi-Wan says brightly.
He heads towards the door, and Anakin steps in front of him in a panic. “Wait! Master, you can’t go out like this.”
Obi-Wan looks down at himself, clearly not understanding. But he’s still dressed in only a thin undertunic that hides absolutely nothing. Anakin can see his breasts bouncing when he walks, can see his stiffened nipples jutting out against the fabric.
For Force’s sake, he’s not even wearing pants.
“But the clothes you gave me….” Obi-Wan begins, shifting uncomfortably. “There are too many. And they’re too rough, Anakin, I don’t like it.”
“They’re not rough,” Anakin says, baffled. “They’re for protection, Master.”
“Oh.” His Master frowns.
And then, with a nervous glance to their door—
“Do I need protection here?”
“Well. No,” Anakin hesitates, then shakes his head roughly. “You can't negotiate your way out of this, Obi-Wan! You need to wear more clothes!”
The frown deepens to a scowl, but his Master turns around, trudging obediently to the bedroom.
He takes long enough that Anakin gets impatient, thumbing through messages on his comm and wondering if he needs to help Obi-Wan get dressed.
The thought of that— his hands on Obi-Wan’s skin, guiding his limbs carefully through his tunic, kneeling to help him with his leggings…
Well; maybe it’s better he doesn’t.
He wants his Master, and every time Obi-Wan touches him, every time Obi-Wan needs his help, every time Obi-Wan remembers something about Anakin and about their life before— it only feeds the greedy monster in Anakin’s chest.
He wants everything from Obi-Wan. And he knows that if he asked, his Master would give it. That Obi-Wan, trusting Anakin to know what’s best, would let him do whatever he liked.
But he can’t betray that trust.
So he waits by the door, fiddling aimlessly with his comm, until Obi-Wan emerges wearing pants and an outer tunic with a thicker weave. Anakin ignores the lack of tabards or robes, sliding his Master a pair of simple shoes.
“Good job,” he says. The praise is clumsy on his tongue, but it's worth it for the way that Obi-Wan brightens up at the words. “Ready for a walk?”
“Yes.” Obi-Wan’s Force signature unfurls, brushing against his for the first time since his return.
Anakin tries not to tear up, pressing against him in the Force warmly. He thought he’d never get to feel his Master like this again.
“Leash?” Obi-Wan asks abruptly.
“Huh?”
“For our walk,” he says. “Do you have a collar and leash? And I’d like to wear the collar inside too, if that’s okay—”
“No,” Anakin cries, voice pitching high and incredulous. “Obi-Wan, I’m not walking you around the Temple like a pet. Nobody’s expecting you to wear a collar, I promise.”
He expects Obi-Wan to be relieved, but the man frowns instead, eyes dipping down in what can only be shame.
Anakin sighs, scrubbing his face with one palm. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
But Obi-Wan only shakes his head, slipping on his shoes. “It’s okay,” he says quietly. “Let’s go.”
Guilt sits heavy in Anakin’s chest. His Master had been so excited by the prospect of a walk, and now—
He reaches out, pulling Obi-Wan into a hug. Touch, by far, has been the best way to get through to him.
“I’m sorry,” Anakin says. “Will you tell me why you want a collar so much?”
His Master’s fingers curl into the fabric of Anakin’s robes. “It makes me feel safe,” he whispers. “Everyone will know I’m your cow, so no one will bother me.”
Blood rushes south so fast that Anakin feels dizzy.
Everyone will know I’m your cow.
“You are mine,” he agrees, unthinking. “We’ll get you a collar, Obi-Wan. Don’t worry.”
Obi-Wan hums with pleasure, relaxing into his arms. “One with a bell?”
Oh.
Is it possible to die of arousal? What if he overheats and passes out?
The idea of Obi-Wan in a collar— in Anakin’s collar— taking a daily walk with him, bell jingling sweetly—
“Yeah,” he chokes out. “You can have a little bell and everything.”
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