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fakecrfan · 3 years

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POV: You wake up in the TMA universe at the start of season 1.

You find yourself on the streets of London, cold and confused.

You try to figure out what happened and get home. You discover the place you lived no longer exists. The place you worked no longer exists.

You try to call the numbers of family, friends, anyone you knew. Baffled voices that you don’t recognize answer you, and then hang up.

As you're wandering around the streets getting increasingly terrified, you pass by the Magnus Institute. Then, everything makes sense.

You hurry in and blurt out: "I would like to make a statement"

Rosie smiles politely.

“Alright, let’s get you the proper forms then.”

She tells you that the Archivist, Jonathan Sims, will see you in a moment. As you are waiting for him, you recall what happens to people who give statements to Jonathan Sims. Unceasing bad dreams. Unrelenting panic attacks. Enough that Jess Tyrell stopped being able to go out in public.

"Ah," you think. "I will not do that then."

You leave in a hurry. Outside, you realize:

oh, I'm the only one who can stop the apocalypse now, aren't i

You shiver. That thought can wait, you think. For now you need to find... somewhere to stay. You are effectively homeless. No, not effectively. You are straight up homeless.

You pull out your wallet to pay for food. Your card is declined. You try to use cash, only to be told it’s counterfeit. Everything is just a little too much to the left of your reality for you to navigate.

Finally you find social services of some kind. They ask for your information, including your NIN. you aren't surprised when they say the info they have on file for that number is.... not you. You are disappointed though.

They help you to a homeless shelter. You sit on your cot and cry self-pityingly for a bit, and then that pressure comes back to your mind:

The world is going to end. You know the world is going to end. You're the only one who can do anything about it.

You turn over and decide that's something you can deal with in the morning.

----

The next day, you think about it again.

"That's something I can deal with when I have an apartment," is what you think then.

So that becomes your next project. Finding your footing as a displaced person. Social services helps but it's... sporadic. It takes months for you to get more stable housing.

When you lie down on the couch of the new, well, new associate you've made, you once again remember that the world is going to end. That you are the only one who can do anything about it.

"I'll think about that when I get a job"

-----

Time continues to pass. As you are trying to get on your feet, you make feeble attempts to... start something.

You go to the Magnus Institute a few times. But it's hard. You've always had terrible social anxiety,. And everyone there seems so cold. You can feel eyes on your back: staring, watching your every move. Normally that alone is enough to make you quit for the day.

A lot of times, the main cast you remember is out doing research. When they are there, you are about to walk up and speak to them when the anxiety hits you again.

What if Elias sees you talking to them? What if he kills you?

You decide to retreat for a little while, then. Just to think of a better plan.

You spend the next month getting your first job in this new world. You start a timeline of when you think the apocalypse is going to happen, but remembering the canon dates is hard. It's not a very helpful timeline, and so you give it up.

Eventually you think the best thing to do is to wait until Elias has been arrested and then talk to the others. When Elias is in prison, he can't murder you for revealing your plans.

This means Sasha and Tim will die. But--they might have died anyway, even with your intervention. Who’s to say? Anyway, you’re not the one who will kill them. It’s not your fault.

You scan the news every day for things about the Magnus Institute, particularly the head of it getting arrested.

During this time, you do a little better. You have a nice apartment now, you think. Nice by your own standards, at least. You decorate the place a little. Get some video games that you like--or well, they aren't the same ones as in your world, but close enough you think?

Months pass.

One day it hits you that maybe the papers would never actually report on Elias being arrested.

Oh shit, you think.

You go back to the Magnus Institute then. By this point, Rosie recognizes you. She grants you the same expression one grants a wayward alley cat. You ask who the current head is. You are told "Peter Lukas."

Shit.

"Can I make a statement?"

Rosie looks nervous. "Um, the Archivist is on medical leave."

"Okay can I talk to one of his assistants?"

Rosie gets this very tired look in her eyes.

"I'll... ask."

Rosie phones the archives extension

it rings

"They've all really been through it recently," Rosie tells you. "They don't--like to talk to anyone else, now."

"I have to talk to them," you say. "Um, can you--can you tell Martin Blackwood specifically that I need to talk to him? That it's about Jon?"

Martin is--you like Martin. Martin will be nice and safe. He'll be easier to talk to than Melanie at this point, or Basira. Still, Rosie looks tired again.

"I'll have a chat with him," Rosie says. "How about you go home for now, and I'll call you when I've talked to him."

"But--"

You're bad at this. You were always bad at this. You can barely sign up for anything on your own. Your mother has done so many calls and filled out so many forms for you.

You never cultivated the skill of standing in a lobby and insisting to talk to someone. Maybe you'll just irritate Rosie and she'll blacklist you if you dig in your heels now. Anyway, you're already so tired from this. You think about going home, and playing some Medal of Honour IV.

"Fine," you say.

You go home. You play the game. You sleep.

You're not giving up, you say to yourself. You're just--biding your time.

Rosie does not call you.

It pains you, but you realize you have to go back in and ask to speak to someone again. You'll go today after work, you decide.

No, wait, you're too tired from work today. You'll go tomorrow.

Maybe on the weekend.

----

You finally go back

Rosie tells you she just--hasn't been able to get a hold of Martin.

"Fine," you say. "Any of the other assistants."

Rosie actually looks a bit worried for you. "Um, they're not--they don't take well to unexpected visitors. Let me wait and chat them up about it."

You do not listen this time.

You march down into the basement level where the archives are. The door is--well. Shit. It's barricaded? You knock. You keep knocking.

"Melanie! Basira!" you say. "I have to talk!"

The door opens too quickly. You barely get a glimpse of Melanie's snarl before she strikes and your vision goes white.

She hits you a few times. No knives, just fists. You hear Basira in the backround, barking for Melanie to stand down. Once there is an opening and you can blearily see again, you run away in terror.

It's not--you didn't intend to run. You were just afraid.

----

You go home, and realize that Melanie didn't even really hit you in a super serious way. Nothing that would warrant a hospital trip, at least. Nothing that has left you with a lot of pain, outside of the immediate terror of physical violence.

You probably could have stuck it out there. You should have.

You think about all the months--no, years now--that have passed without you making any progress.

"But that’s not my fault,” you say.

"I was having a really hard time. I was homeless. I've been struggling with my mental health. I still have to keep the rent paid and feed myself."

"It's not my fault. It's not."

"I will do something. Just--I need some more time."

You sleep.

You decide to wait a bit for your bruises to heal up before going back.

When you do drag yourself back to the Institute, now there is a PTSD reaction to going into the Institute on top of the social anxiety.

You leave quickly. Rosie looks so sad for you.

You do try to go back. You do try to get back in contact with the Archives, or go back when Jon is back up. But there's always something. Not something directly stopping you. Just--

Tiredness. Work. Illness. Doctor's appointments. Panic attacks. The Archives staff being unreachable.

The world is going to end. You're the only one who can stop it.

"That's not true though," you think. "I mean, technically anyone could. I just have a little more information that could help."

"It's never one person's fault," you tell yourself as you crawl into bed after another flight of anxiety struck you as you were about to cross the street to the Institute. "It's everything. It's--a whole system. It's Jonah's fault really. If I don't--I'm not to blame."

“I’m not to blame.”

----

You are playing Medal of Honour V when your phone lights up with a notification that there was an outburst of violence at a place known as the Magnus Institute, and billionaire Peter Lukas has disappeared in the confusion.

You should get up. It’s going to happen, and happen soon. You hand twitches on the controller.

You remember a quote you saw before you ended up here, on Facebook of all things.

"Don't wonder what you'd be doing in Nazi Germany. Whatever you're doing now, is what you would have been doing then."

Because bad things were happening in the world all the time, your preachy Facebook aunt said. There is always genocide, and famine, and war. It’s not some movie fantasy from the past.

You think about that. About the horrors in your world. Those movements that you retweeted support for and occasionally donated $5 to. The protests you awkwardly passed by on your way to work.

You quietly realize what kind of person you are. What you would have been doing in Nazi Germany, or the civil rights era in the U.S., or during the catastrophes in your own world, or right now.

It's what you were always going to do.

And so you get back to Medal of Honour V.

----

You're still dreading the apocalypse of course. It won’t be easy. It will be around six months to a year of full on torture, specifically designed to be the worst you have ever felt. Something about that soothes you. Something about knowing you are a victim too, or maybe knowing that you’ll be punished.

But--it will end, and then you'll be alright. Everything will return to normal, and you can go back to your apartment and your job and your games. It’s not all that bad.

You feel a twinge of guilt for Martin and Jon, who you could ave intervened for. You feel more than a twinge for the worlds the Entities will infect after. But--maybe it will all work out okay. Maybe the universe is a kind place. Maybe other worlds will be able to handle the fears better.

Who knows! There is always hope!

----

[When the sky turns red and the great Eye opens, when you start to hear the howls of your apartment neighbors through the wall--

Nothing happens to you. You are fine. It does not touch you.

Oh.]

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fic #self insert #reader insert #my writing

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juicebox-sys · 2 years

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hey um we're a system with unknown origins and we're finding it hard to navigate the interwebs with all of the gatekeeping and fakeclaiming and anti-endo stuff so 2 things 1) are u a sysmed or something and 2) how in the heck do we navigate any of this without getting stressed over f*keclaiming for not knowing if we're traumagenic/what that trauma is

First off, if you ever use the term "sysmed" at me again, anon privileges are getting revoked. That term was appropriated from trans culture and y'all have absolutely no right to use it the way you are. It comes from the word "transmed," short for "transmedicalist" which means a person who thinks that if, for any reason at all you cannot or will not fully medically transition, you are not trans. They treat transness as a disease or disorder, which it is not, and it has caused real world harm. People were harassed, doxxed, sent death threats, and some have even committed suicide.

"Sysmed" means someone who thinks systems form from trauma, and I have looked and found absolutely no sources credible that say systems can form without trauma.

With our current understanding of how systems form, you cannot be a system without trauma. Maybe one day that will change, there still isn't a lot of research on systems. Maybe one day there will be multiple credible sources out there that say this can happen, but as of right now there aren't and I am inclined to believe the science.

On the day when multiple research studies have been done and peer reviewed and published officially and all of that good shit, then I will believe that systems without trauma can exist.

Until then, I really don't give too much of a fuck about people calling themselves endogenic or mixed origin or whatever. It's not my life, I've got my own shit to deal with, so I mind my own business. Let them handle their shit, I really could not care less. If you call yourself endogenic or whatever and follow me, I'm not gonna get pissy, just don't drag fucking syscourse into my inbox.

Speaking of syscourse, in regards to your second question; stop engaging with syscourse. I promise your life will get so much easier.

Here's a dose of reality. Regardless of who you're talking to, singlet or system, traumagenic or endogenic, black or white, gay or straight - we're all just trying to live our lives and find a way for the world to make sense.

Syscourse is fucking stupid. Someone says they're endogenic? Okay, whatever, that doesn't affect me. Someone says persecutors are evil? Damn, they're a shitty person, I hope I never meet or talk to them. Someone says introjects aren't real? They're very uneducated, but it's not my job to educate them, and I'm hungry so I'm gonna grab something from McDonald's down the road.

I have never had any of these problems in the real world, and I know like 3 different systems IRL. That's a lot when you live in the ass crack of nowhere. They only exist online because people love to argue and fight and blow shit out of proportion, and that can make those problems seem way worse than they actually are.

I also recommend taking a step back from the Internet. That doesn't mean leave it completely, or forever, but just step back for a bit and think about you, your system, what being a system means to you, etc.

If you have decent communication within your system, have this conversation with them, too. You're part of a team now, a team whose goal is to keep everyone in your body safe, happy, and healthy. You may have different ideas on how to do that, and that's okay, but you need to talk that out between yourselves at some point, if and when you can.

It will be far easier to focus on yourself and your life if you stop giving a shit about things that don't matter in real life. There are far more pressing issues for systems in the real world then whether or not that alter is a protector or a caretaker. Have you ever tried looking up "DID in the workplace"? It's tips for therapists on how to deal with systems, not tips for systems on how to find and maintain a steady job.

There aren't many resources out there for systems right now. We don't have much, so we make do with what we have. The last thing we fucking need is to be arguing over shit that, again, does not fucking matter in the real world.

Any further syscourse shit in our inbox is getting deleted. I don't want to give it any more of my time than I already have.

#tw suicide mention #eli speaks #syscourse #did system #ugh fuck tags im gonna go make food

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darkobssessions · 3 years

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Coping Tips for Autistic Women

I am compiling a list of resources for aspie women along with tips to manage symptoms and navigate the world. Regretably, most of my personal experience comes from living undiagnosed and unaware about this for the last 27 years. There was a giant elephant in the room with everything, and I have only recently worked it out. This means that most of my habits prior to this point were ones attempting to cope with a giant unknown, the limits of which were unclear. But they more or less worked, because, as I am realising, there’s always been something they are attempting to address.

With other diagnoses and ways I attempted to explain and understand my difficulties, there were finite causes and treatments. I should have been improving if I tried x, y, or z. And I did improve my symptoms in many ways, but there was something missing from the picture. That is that autism is my personality, my state of being, how I process and view the world. And no tool, medication, process or treatment was ever going to change who I really was. Being misdiagnosed (or being missed and failing to receive the autism diagnosis) means that I have been trying to correct something that you cant ‘correct’, and shaming myself for something fundamentally me.

Some of the tips I learned over time, from how I am as a person, without the framework of reference of neurodivergence or autism:

Sensory:

My sensitivity has always been a big waving flag. I felt and saw things others didn’t. I felt more deeply. I sensed the microeffects and changes in everything. I responded harder and faster to any chemical, environmental shift, any positive or negative event, As we all do on the spectrum, we attempt to navigate our sensory environment. And we come up with coping mechanisms, good or bad, before or after we realise we are on the spectrum. For me this was a strong aversion to the things that upset me, that disturbed my senses. It was an orienting of myself in a way to avoid the disturbances, going inwards, withdrawing and even shutting down. I learned that I could not and did not want to handle crowds, loud places, supermarkets. I lived in a giant simulation attempting to minimise and avoid as much as possible the things that hurt. I learned that I was extremely sensitive, no one else seemed to be, and I just had to manage it. Since discovering autism in the last weeks, I am able to embrace the fact that sensory overload is a thing, and I really do feel pain in my body when things are too much and too loud, and just wearing earplugs has mitigated so much of this. I was gas lighting myself before about feeling a certain way because there was no explanation, that I was aware of anyway.

Physical:

I have had so many problems over the years, since I was a young girl. I used to get food poisoning symptoms really easily. I had hidden allergies. I remember a lot of my childhood spent doubled up with stomach pains, or having a fever. My family didn’t know any better and fed me and treated me as they did every other member. I was not the same, I did not feel the same, but I took it all in. By the time I was in my early teen years, I had cemented my aversion to certain foods, taken the only control I had at the time against an encroaching and controlling mother and turned it into anorexia. I avoided things I didn’t like, again, and set up a system of control that made more sense than the gaping wounds and confusion within me. Starvation triggered bulimia. And a viscous cycle of malnourishment and dysregulation unfolded. I didn’t learn until many, many years later that my system was so sensitive and damaged that if I tried to go back to how I used to eat as a child, I would get terrible symptoms. So my coping tips as I have healed from the eating disorders and become more aware is to figure out what the triggers are, what hurts, and to avoid it. This along with adding in nutrient dense foods and working on the deficiencies has done wonders for me. I’ve done tremendous work on my autoimmune conditions, gut problems, sensitivities and inflammation levels and the difference is like night and day. That I can induce psychotic symptoms by deviating or introducing foods I am intolerant to is no joke. The tip I can share is elimination diets truly do work, the keto diet is recommended, and eating the carnivorous way saved my life. My eating disorders for almost 15 years INCLUDING the 7.5 years I was a vegan, mostly high raw and fruitarian depleted my nutrients so badly that every symptom was enhanced 100% and I was eating pretty much ONLY food I was actually intolerant to. Ahem, plants, I’m talking to you. The peace I feel, the nourishment and rest on a nervous system level having eliminated them is unreal.

Social:

I have always known I was different, in a deep, visceral way. How the adults in my life answered questions was inadequate. I saw through people and things. I was far too intense and serious. I learned to watch and observe humans and pick up cues so as to attempt to fit in. I spent the majority of my life masking, something I am only now finding out about and unraveling. I kept notes on the human experience, and saved colours, sounds, feelings, because I felt like I couldn’t communicate the truth of myself otherwise. Over the course of my life there have been inexplicable (until now) events. Lost friendships and relationships, strings of broken promises, people not acting on what they say, confusions and miscommunications, and many dangerous situations and predatory bonds. I made what sense I could of it from whatever lens I could find. It was the trauma, it was my soul contract, it was what I deserved, it was being targeted- all close, but not quite within the realm of being so naive, open and fundamentally different as you are on the spectrum. I just always assumed everybody was like me. I had to learn the very extremely hard way that not everyone felt and thought in the same way, nor had good intentions. I still struggle with the fact that humans don’t tell the truth. It is of no relevance whether they secretly know it. Most people are more comfortable with illusions. I always knew this, but the diagnosis gives me a lot more peace around it. It’s allowing me to accept the fact that if I look around the majority of the people I see are not walking around processing and over-analysing everything, feeling sounds, decoding patterns and obsessed with hacking the code of reality. Less pressure that way, and more in the way of what can be viewed as natural interaction on my part. I will solve the mystery of the universe out loud otherwise, and get the blank looks and the discomfort. I have found my people, a tribe of likeminded individuals, I have gathered friends over the years that didn’t run from my weirdness. But I am mostly content to be on my own, knowing that I can only use what is around me to try to convey how I feel and who I really am. And that will probably be a book, a movie or a work of art, much better than a 2pm rendezvous when I can’t stop talking about the hidden signs.

Emotional:

With the intensity of my emotions I have developed borderline personality disorder as a means to cope with being autistic and not knowing. I have been diagnosed with both that and bipolar because I have intense stints of emotions. They come and go in waves, lasting hours, lasting days and weeks. I consider it to be an energy management system to cope with the demands and stressors of modern day living. Creatives always withdraw and hibernate, and come out with new insights and art to share. The way that I feel and view the world is special. It’s at the basis of my writing, what I choose to engage with and how. My emotions make me who I am. I feel intensely, I share passionately about how I feel. I snap, I break, I shutdown, I come out again and I am a bright, shooting star. There is an excited little animal that lives within me and it is the strongest most passionate thing known to man. I thought that my negative experiences or trauma killed it, but this is before I knew it IS me and cannot die. So I have stopped trying to cram these emotions in or explain them. Stopped trying to attribute them to whatever script people were following when they dealt with me. Throwing me into the depressive, anxious, panic stricken, eating disordered basket case category. The missing piece now makes so much sense. The ways I responded to being autistic were coping mechanisms, such as developing a personality disorder, to deal with the pressure. My psyche splintered under the weight. My tip here is in embracing your inner life and world, embracing that you are different, so that all of the mental and emotional acrobatics needed to attempt to explain the issues or fit in can be put to rest.

Spiritual:

Being different and feeling differently means I naturally saw and expressed things in quite a strange way. I was convinced of a secret world to reality, behind reality, living on behind a paper shell, so to speak, that would rip if only I could reach out and tear it aside. That conviction was rewarded as year after year my awareness grew, my gifts multiplied, and the experiences I had revealed to me the hidden hand of god. There was very much design to the universe, a pattern, weaving through all things. And i was a part of it, not some discarded afterthought or simple byproduct that had no place. In the early years, I kept my convictions to myself, nursed them with experience. I died a thousand deaths in dark nights of the soul, crashing against the turf of my ignorance. I broke open, and everything I had been so sure of as a child was revealed to me again and again. I was convinced I had a purpose, I could feel the deep tides of human emotion and motion, could feel into the genetic sequence that had birthed me. I felt like an alien, but that slowly over time the map of my operation was being revealed to me. This is what it feels like so many years later to stand here and find out about being autistic and realise that how I felt in my soul all these years was real, and that I can begin to truly fulfill this mission now, to share my experience in words I know others will understand because they feel the same way too. It was the challenges that I never understood, while the gifts were the reason to stay alive. My message to myself and others now is that there is a point, a reason to persevere and understand yourself more. The suffering reveals so much of the true state of things, so that we can protect our tender hearts and build new things that honour who we really are, our souls.

Resources, movies, literature to follow. I just wanted to share something of a summary now of my realisations since coming home to myself.

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

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Callisto (Fallout - Bit 3)

Prologue Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3

Here we have the last bit of Part One. After this, things start to get moving. Things certainly weren’t planned to take this long, but apparently Jeff threw a spanner in the works with demanding to go along for the ride and the boys were not impressed. I’m currently approaching 10,000 words in this fic and enjoying it immensely. Thank you for your patience.

Many, many continuing thanks to @tsarinatorment @scribbles97 and @janetm74 for the buckets of support they have been providing me with. This definitely wouldn’t be what it is without these guys. They’re working hard :D

Many thanks to all of you who are cheering me on. You are amazing ::hugs you all::

I hope you enjoy this bit.

-o-o-o-

“Is there any way we can exclude him from this mission?”

“Gords, you’re asking me to find a way to stop Dad? Why?” Alan eyed Brains sitting beside him. The engineer was absorbed in his tablet, but Alan suspected he was listening anyway.

He ran through pre-flight in prep for disengagement. Three was docked and integrated into the Excel. Separating from the great ship was considerably different from an all out launch from Three’s silo on the Island. It took a little extra finesse.

Gordon’s uniformed hologram hung above the main console, agitation in every movement. “Because he shouldn’t be doing this. Virgil is worried sick about his health. This could set him back – a lot.”

“If it is that bad, get Virgil to lay down the law.” Pre-flight complete, Alan brought up Three’s engines, eyes tracking as each came up green on his board. A nudge to the forward thrusters and she began drifting backwards and out of her docking bay.

“You saw him, he tried that. It didn’t work.”

“Get him to try again.”

“You didn’t see what he was like after. What he did to Scott. Dad was cold, Allie. Damned cold and didn’t care.”

“You’re kidding.” Three slipped free and he manoeuvred her away from the Excel before turning her towards a re-entry trajectory.

“No, I’m not. Dad is going and nothing is going to stop him.”

Brains looked up at that, but didn’t say anything. Gordon was obviously unaware that Brains was even there. The aquanaut had to know Alan was returning him to the Island before their departure. It was a sign of how agitated his brother actually was. What the hell had happened after John signed off?

“Why are you asking me?” He double checked the computer’s calculations and gave the trajectory go ahead.

“You’re an astronaut. You can talk the talk.”

“That’s bullshit, Gords, and you know it. You know the deal as much as I do.” Though admittedly, space was Gordon’s least favourite medium. Virgil tolerated it, but Gordon was definitely not a fan despite the similarities between deep space and deep ocean.

Or perhaps the lack of similarity.

Deep ocean wasn’t Alan’s favourite medium either. It flipped the equation – in space everything wanted to get out, in water everything wanted to get in.

Maybe Gordon had a point.

“Talk to Grandma.” The bow of Three lit up red as she breached the edge of the atmosphere and started carving her way down.

Gordon didn’t immediately comment on that and Alan understood why. Going around Dad was…difficult and had repercussions.

Virgil managed it with health issues, but it was a sticking point. One or both parents could roast any younger Tracy alive.

There had been arguments.

Alan loved his father, but the new family dynamics were sometimes tricky to navigate.

“I might have to.” Gordon’s voice was sad. “He won’t listen to any of us.” A grunt. “Except John.”

Alan swallowed as the fire at the bow of his ‘bird began to calm, the blue of ocean in the distance taking over. Always a relief post re-entry, it was also very beautiful from this high angle so far above the clouds.

“John has a point.”

“What?! You agree with John?!” The immediate anger in Gordon’s voice actually hurt.

“I didn’t say that. I just think we need to look at this from both points of view.”

“Who’s point of view, Alan? This is Dad’s health at stake, there is no other point of view.”

Alan sighed, the Pacific ever so blue beneath him, the puffs of white clouds looming ever closer as he approached.

“What about Uncle Lee? What does he say about this? He’s Dad’s age and is still operating in space.” Actually, come to think of it. Uncle Lee was currently on Earth. Something about sourcing extra funding. Alan had fetched him about a month ago.

“Uncle Lee didn’t spend eight years stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

“Ask him anyway. He knows the deal. And Dad listens to him, doesn’t he?” An old astronauts’ club of two happened whenever the two of them managed to make time to get together. Alan had been taxi driver for the older man on more than one occasion recently.

Aotearoa loomed to his left as Australia set below the clouds, Three following to finally dip between the white of cirrus and alto-cumulus. He skipped along the Kermadec Ridge over the top of Raoul, and Tracy Island finally appeared below.

The Island’s security system gave him a green light and, killing almost all his speed, Alan manoeuvred his ‘bird into vertical flight on approach to docking.

A pause midair, and he let her drop ever so smoothly down through the roundhouse and into her gantry.

Exhaust puffed up in clouds around her cockpit as he disengaged her engines and let her settle with the creak of well worked machinery.

Brains packed away his tablet ready to disembark, but Alan lay back in his pilot’s seat and let out a breath. “Gords?”

But the signal was gone and his brother didn’t answer.

-o-o-o-

“Mom?”

The sound of her son’s voice on comms made her jump just a little. It was in sharp contrast to the quiet of the sterile waiting room.

It wasn’t that she was unfamiliar with using comms, it was just unusual off the Island and likely it meant something not good.

She touched her collar as she stood up, eyeing the receptionist and making her way outside the building for privacy. “Jeff?”

“We have a situation.”

That was nothing unusual. “Do you need me?”

“No. no.”

There was something in his voice that had her immediately suspicious. “Jefferson, out with it.”

“There is an emergency on Callisto. Berry and Ju have gone missing.”

She had a moment to blink, connect the dots and do the calculations before he said exactly what she feared he would.

“I’m going.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Mom-“

“You know your medical condition. That distance is too far and too dangerous.”

“We’re taking the Excel. The length of time will be minimal. I need to be there. These are my people.”

“Still far too much of a risk.”

“Mom, I have to do this.” She heard him swallow. “I-I have to get out there again.”

She held her breath, reminded of the nightmares, the sight of her ill son as he struggled to regain pretty much everything. She was so proud of him.

“What does Scott have to say about it?”

“He has made his opinion clear. As have Virgil and Gordon.”

Hell. She left home for a day. A single day, and the family imploded.

But then her grandsons had their own nightmares.

“Mom, I have to do this.” The repetition, the resolution in his voice was so familiar…

She blinked. “I know.” It was out before thought and it hurt.

“We’re dropping communication buoys on the way out so we can keep in touch real time.” He paused. “How are you doing?”

How was she doing? A little worse than a moment ago. “I’m fine, Jefferson. Don’t you worry.”

“Mom…keep me updated.”

She swallowed. “It’s going to be alright, honey. You look after yourself and our boys.” Her throat clogged up.

“I love you, Mom.”

She forced the clog down. “I love you, too, honey.” Another hard swallow. “Fly safe.” She had to blink to clear her vision.

“Tracy Island out.”

And he was gone.

The clog in her throat returned as a sudden sob and she clamped her hand over her mouth to keep it in. The world blurred around her and wouldn’t clear.

A warm northerly wind tangled in her hair.

God, please be safe.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #Jeff Tracy #Grandma Tracy #Sally Tracy #callisto

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dyketubbo · 2 years

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i genuinely don’t mean to be rude with this, and im a system asking this, but how can endogenic systems form without trauma? it just kind of seems to invalidate the whole of traumagenic systems and the purpose of OSDD/DID? sorry if this seems rude that’s not the intent!! just honestly curious

one thing: viewing other peoples experiences through whether they validate another experience will inherently be a harmful way of looking at things. endogenic systems do not invalidate traumagenic systems by existing, just as it is for many other communities with intersectionality issues

to get onto the actual answer: multiple ways! some see it as a spiritual thing, some believe it has to do with neurological differences (personally, we see it as the latter but find comfort in the former). dissociative disorders are.. well. medical professionals have biases, and theres actually not even a solid consensus amongst them (hence why many sources mention fighting for changes to the dsm-5 and psychologys approach to plurality as a whole)

endogenic systems do not inherently invalidate traumagenic systems because the experiences are different. not completely, because ultimately plurality will still be the umbrella theyre under, but they are different. most endogenic systems do not claim to fit, or want to fit under the labels of did or osdd. most do not want to invade traumagenic-only spaces, only to be allowed in the overall community that they were always apart of.

and finally, the idea that endogenic systems dont serve the same purpose can sometimes stem from the idea that endogenic systems simply dont have trauma, or generally have easy lives, when thats not true. while they may not see it as their origin, generally most endogenic systems still have trauma. and their system members often help with that. outside of helping process trauma, sometimes systems just sort of exist to help each other go through any sort of life. quite a few of the sources go into this with better detail than i can! and of course, theres also the fact that society is just.. inherently traumatizing and hard to navigate, especially if youre neurodivergent, or physically disabled, or a victim of war, or of religious persecution, or a poc, or queer, or any mix of these. being a system helps with processing these experiences, even if the effects dont hit or apply to you while youre under the age cap. generally though, i suggest looking through the sources or finding endogenic people to talk to that are able to have a discussion like this, as it isnt exactly my place to speak for them anymore, even if we spent a lot of our time knowing about plurality believing we were endogenic

#even now we technically are of *mixed* origins #rather than strictly traumagenic #but trauma is our main origin and the one we identify with the most for now #angel answers #system stuff #syscourse #pro endo #plurality #multiplicity

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letsdiscoverkitty · 3 years

Text

Home/Family Update - May 2021

I will take this right back to when I was discharged from the Priory in December. From there I moved back home with my parents; it was a bit of a difficult transition as I didn't have any home leave in the lead up to being discharged due to COVID and my consultant wanting me to make the most of my time on the ward. Add to that my EDP going completely awol, meaning that our whole 4 week pre-discharge meetings and relapse prevention plan went out the window. So yes it was a bit of a rocky start, and that is without you factoring in COVID lockdown/Christmas.

Being discharged from an IP setting is never easy no matter who you are; changes in environment and routine can throw you off track without you even realising it and I did find myself struggling with this. I also had the difficult navigation of adapting to coming home in terms of my dad and his recovery. For those who might not know, last March my dad fell down the stairs in the middle of the night the day that my parents arrived home after a month in NZ. He suffered 3 brain bleeds (a subdural, an extradural and a subarachnoid), multiple facial fractures and a break in his spine. That night was one of, if not THE, worst of my life. We were told that it was very likely that he would not survive and that if he did he would be in a vegetated state or not able to take care of himself...we were told to prepare for the worst. By some MIRACLE he defied all the odds and at the age of 74 after spending 11 or so days on the ICU, a further 2 weeks on a trauma ward and then another 3 months in a neuro rehab, he was discharged home and is now, a year on from the accident, completely independent, no sign of further brain bleeds and is actually much fitter than he has been for, well, 50 years! Honestly, we never expected anything like this sort of recovery and from an outside perspective he is doing perfectly. However, there are things that will never be the same again and I don't think it is until you are with someone 24/7 that you are able to tell. He has changed quite a bit as a person; in some ways this is a good thing but in other ways it is not so. He cannot deal with changes in environment or routine; even things like having the bread on the side instead of in the bread bin completely throws him off and he doesn't even register that the bread is there. He gets very easily agitated, can be extremely rude and a little aggressive. Now some of this was already there (a lot of it was) but it has become more acutely obvious since the head injury. I have SO much respect and love for my mum - I really dont know how she has held herself up over the past 2 years, as well as helping dad when he was initially transitioning home (I was still in hospital but it sounded like he needed a lot of help for the first few months - which I only saw an inch of when they were able to visit me in hospital (he used to wander off and didn't know where he was etc. which is thankfully no longer and issue!)).

This is hard for me to say but I will admit that I have struggled more than I thought I would with being around him; in short I pretty much went through the whole mourning process whilst I was in hospital as the last time i saw him on the trauma ward before they stopped all visits and before I was admitted, he didn't know who I was...He thought he lived in another country and was telling me all sorts of stories that were fabricated, before telling me that he needed to go and pick up the mercedes and drive to sainsburys to get the Gin and petrol (we don't have a mercedes and he doesn't even like gin!) Anyway, I digress. So yes, I basically mourned for someone who was still alive physically but mentally had changed as at the time I didn't know whether he would be in a vegetated state or make a good recovery. Thankfully we are on the good side and he is doing so incredibly well but the bottom line is that he is different and living with him, at the age of 26, is HARD. We have good days and bad days (as any young adult who lives with their parents does) and there are many many days that I wish I wasn't living at home but I do my best to hold myself together during those times, especially for my mum because she, I tell you, is absolutely incredible. How she has put up with him for so long I honestly do not know!

Talking of mum, I would say that since the whole accident with dad, we have become a LOT closer. We really had to lean on each other over that month; we were driving down to Brighton every single day to see dad on the ICU and on the Trauma ward until we were stopped from visiting - it was mentally and physically exhausting for the both of us, especially as we were still barely processing the trauma and struggling with flashbacks in the night. We were the first ones on the scene of the accident (if it weren't for mum's medical training, dad would not be alive today). Of course we still have our moments but I feel like our relationship almost "levelled up and matured over the past year. We have bonded over being in nature and walking (because what else can you do when the country is in lockdown!?! but also because we have always been an "outdoors" family (well my mum, Andi and me have))- we also talk about dad and the accident quite a bit too, which has helped me beyond belief (and her too). We give each other space, and yes there are days when we dont get on but who doesn't have days when they dont?

On balance I would say that home is "okay". It is manageable. No the environment is not perfect and I do find it affects my mental health quite a bit and holds me back in some ways (I cannot wait to be able to move out one day) but I am incredibly grateful to have parents that are willing to and can afford to take me under their roof and help me out during this time.

Gosh, this has already ended up so much longer than I thought it would, I am sorry! In short: home life is okay. We are here and that is the most important thing. We saw Andi a two-ish weeks ago as we were in Cornwall for our usual time-share (we were so lucky that Boris allowed self catering two weeks before our usual time share week) - I think it was good for them to get out of their flat as I don't think they had left the small area where they live since last September when we went down to Cornwall (I was given leave for a week as it was sold to my consultant to help my dad's recovery, which is definitely did but yes we did pull the right strings to get that one!)

Anyway, I shall leave this update here and start the mammoth task of the next one. I am sorry that this is taking me so long, it's quite hard to write and think back and reflect (although actually quite helpful for me to do) so I do find that I have to come back to it a few times. Please stick with me x

-----

I forgot to add that dad had an assessment before we went away to Cornwall to see whether he can have his driving license back and (as mum and I predicted) he failed. To say that he did not take it well would be putting it lightly!!! I am actually ashamed of the way that he behaved and the things that he said/the reasons he fabricated as to why he had failed (let's just say he got sexist and rude - which I have ZERO time for and was appalled by him - I am so glad I was not with him/mum after the assessment as I would have blown my fuse at hime). He could not even entertain the idea that he had failed. He blamed everything/anything else that he could - even saying that it was the system and one of the first things he said to me was "I understand now, I've worked it out, it's the system, they aren't allowed to pass many people first time so that's it", which I just *speechless*. Mum and I have talked about it a lot and we don't think that he has ever "failed" at anything in his life. He also believes that he is 10000%. fixed and has no issues or problems and doesn't need any support or guidance. He refuses to listen to mum and I when we try to tell him about how unwell he was, he refuses to believe it and won't take it. One thing that mum and I are very glad of is that all of this driving stuff is OUTSIDE of the family. He can't put it on us. It is coming from an external place and we can support him if he lets us but that is his decision as to whether he lets us or not. He has never been a good patient; and he also won't take any advice (in anything) from mum or let her be right about something either, which is just sad, really sad. This is not a new thing, it has always been this way. And the more I reflect on our family/have reflected over the past year with dad in hospital, the more I see that I don't like. The way dad has behaved and treated mum, how he was always missing in my childhood, how alcohol always came above family, how old fashioned and unwilling to learn he is, how distant and uninterested he was, how he never says please or thank you, never asks how anyone is and refuses to talk about mental health (yep, despite so much going on in our family with mental illnesses, he refuses to talk about it and won't even ask "how are you?" or offer support etc)...I don't mean to be so negative about him, I really don't. I love him, he is my dad, but there is a lot of healing that needs to be done, and it is going to take time.

#personal #update

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phoenixyfriend · 4 years

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What can I do to limit Amazon’s* negative impacts without harming vulnerable communities who rely on their services?

* or any similar company that people are forced to use to survive if they are poor, disabled, elderly, rurally isolated, or any combination of the above

My post on Amazon has been circulating pretty far these past few weeks, and a lot of people keep trying to argue about what can be done right now.

1. Contact your representatives

If you live in the US, there are several sites you can use to figure out your senators (you have two) and your representative (you have one). Call them if there’s a phone number. Email them if there isn’t. They’re obligated to have SOME form of contact. If your rep is already on your side, they can use your email as evidence for how citizens feel about the issue when Congress is in session to argue. If your rep is NOT on your side, they will see the email as evidence that a portion of their constituency is NOT willing to reelect them if they don’t play nice, and that scares them a lot. Either way, make yourself heard. Harass them if you have to.

(For more local issues, especially things like minimum wage and labor laws, you can find your representatives for your state or city government, like your mayor or governor or county rep, and contact them as well. Make yourself heard.)

Write emails in your own words about one of the following subjects:

Supporting the USPS. It’s the backbone of the US shipping industry, and major shipping companies like UPS, FedEx, and Amazon use it for overflow.

Monopolies and antitrust acts. Reference past antitrust acts leveled against oil, railroad, and telecom monopolies.

Raising the minimum wage. Reference inflation.

Enacting a marginal tax rate on high earners (re: the 1%, but phrased in a way that they’ll take seriously). Reference the marginal tax rates of the fifties.

Increasing disability benefits. Try to work something in about how stringent the requirements to qualify are, and how benefits don’t cover enough for medical care, transportation, assistive technology, and so on.

Increasing social security benefits for retirees. People pay into this fund all their lives as part of their income tax; it’s supposed to benefit them right back! (You can circle back to marginal tax rates and how the rich usually have savings and don’t need social security, but the poor often don’t have savings and rely on it.)

Enforcing corporate taxation. Find some statistics on who paid corporate taxes in the past few years and who didn’t. Make sure to find a few big names and what their tax rate SHOULD have been. Emphasize how much extra money the government would be making.

Nationalizing the health care industry. Reference how well it works for countries like Canada, Korea, or Sweden, and how often hard-working Americans are bankrupted by unexpected medical emergencies.

Enacting or enforcing higher standards of employee rights. Did you know that minimum wage employees in Indiana don’t have the right to a lunch break unless they’ve been working at least twelve hours?

Legal repercussions for predatory pricing practices. Walmart is the best-known for this, but Amazon does it too, and they’re a fair bit sneakier about it.

Capping rent prices. Housing costs are among the highest financial pressures Americans face right now, and the fact that housing costs have risen SO much faster than the minimum wage is why it’s impossible to rent a one-bedroom apartment on a minimum wage anywhere in the US right now.

Capping upper management incomes. A CEO should not be earning several thousand, or several million, times as much money as their employees. It’s a long stretch (so argue the more achievable things first), but imagine if we could convince the government to say “actually, you can only make up to twenty times as much per hour as your lowest-paid employee.”

Banning police as threats against unions. UNIONS ARE GOOD THINGS. SUPPORT THEM.

Anything else that comes to mind! There are lots of subjects. This list is not an exhaustive one.

2. Vote

Pretty self-explanatory, I think. Vote in every election. Sometimes you won’t be able to vote for your top choice, and that sucks, but remember that our system is fucked and you have to go for the lesser evil that’s still capable of winning. So vote Blue (because ambivalence to our desires is better than glee at our suffering), and then send as many emails and make as many calls as you can to force them to recognize that, since you helped them get into office, they have to honor the deal to actually represent you now.

3. Support small businesses

Okay, so supporting local businesses probably isn’t too easy in a pandemic. You can’t just walk to your nearest mom and pop store to see if there’s an affordable option. That said, if you can afford to do so, try to see if there are small businesses in your area that are doing delivery or curbside-pickup.

If you live in a more rural area, see about ordering from small online businesses for non-essentials. If you’re thinking “hey, I’d like a new scarf” or something, check Instagram or Etsy first. All faults aside, Etsy is only a marketplace, not a seller themselves, so they rely on the vendors using their site to remain in business. (Whereas Amazon tries to drive their vendors out of business to take over their market share.) You can also use Google Shopping, eBay, or Craigslist.

4. Don’t Use Amazon (or similar), but don’t shame people for using it either

Some people rely on loss leaders to survive. That’s a fault of the American economy being a horrifying mess, and I listed a whole litany of the causes above. Money talks, so avoid using Amazon unless there is NO other way to get your product, but if someone you know uses Amazon, and you know they’re struggling, keep your mouth shut. If they’re not struggling, mention your distaste for Amazon but don’t push the issue; they’re more likely to come around if they feel like you’re not passing a moral judgement on them for it.

5. Recognize that many fairly-priced products are more expensive than you’re used to

The example I usually use is fashion. We’re used to a shirt costing ten or twenty dollars, even at places other than Walmart or Target. This price is what we’re led to believe is reasonable, but it’s really a factor of incredibly underpaid workers, usually overseas. If you can’t afford it, feel free to blame the low minimum wage (I certainly do), but remember to take a step back and remind yourself that it’s not that the piece is expensive, it’s that you are underpaid, and the current system is trying to teach you to expect cheaper items as the norm so they can get away with paying even more people less than they deserve.

6. DONATE

Yeah! There are a whole lot of nonprofit agencies that focus on issues that relate to this topic. I prefer to donate to organizations that focus on enacting systemic change through legal or institutional channels, like the ACLU and AAPD, but there are a lot of options, some of which focus on more direct help, or on specific parts of the country. Figure out one that speaks to you, check it against a trusted charity rating system like Charity Navigator, and set up a monthly donation if you can afford to. Constant support can cause compassion fatigue, but consistent support is how you Get Shit Done.

7. March

Join an activist group and march. Sometimes there are other major events going on (hijacking one of the current marches against racism and police brutality in favor of one about monopolies would be in bad taste AT BEST), but there will come an opportunity to make your voice heard by showing up on the street and just yelling with a sign.

Now go forth and unleash hell.

#amazon #capitalism #current events #employee abuse #walmart #long post

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deadlymodern · 3 years

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Hullo! Hope you don't mind me asking, how did you first know you have ADHD? And how did you get into therapy? If you're feeling uncomfortable to answer, feel free to ignore this. Just wanna know when or whether someone should seek help especially when things get confusing, somewhat outta control ashdhdjkajshskalgghg. Thanks and have a nice weekend c:

Hi there! Hope you’re doing well! I’m already going to apologize because this got really long. I’m super passionate about mental health jdlfgjld.

So, about therapy. I think one of the biggest misconceptions about therapy is that it’s only necessary for people who are in the middle of a crisis or are suffering from extreme mental anguish. However, therapy is a way to take care of yourself and to understand yourself in levels you never knew you actually could! Of course, if someone is struggling, it’s super important to seek help! But it’s also nice - and I dare say, preferable - to seek psychological help before you reach that point.

Think of it like going fishing in open sea. You set sail and you know what you need: you need to find an area to anchor your boat. But if a great storm hits and the waves start throwing your boat left to right, you’re not going to be able to focus on anchoring, right? You’re going to focus on getting through the storm. Going to therapy while you’re in a crisis is like having an extremely experienced sailor help you navigate the storm until you both reach a safe area for anchoring. But going to therapy while you’re stable would be like having the same experienced sailor but having good weather and a nice little spot to fish.

This is not me saying that therapy is a walk in the park. Having to look at yourself and your past can be painful and difficult. But once you pass the “surface” level in the sessions - be it the crisis or even just shyness and difficulty of opening up - you are able to dive into the origins of your problems and triggers, face obscure parts of your past (with emotional support) and understand how and why you do things the way you do. Does that make sense or have I just gone nuts? JIGJIOD.

I had my first therapy session when I was around 16 years old. I didn’t enjoy it much. I felt like the lady was low key judgmental and that made me feel ashamed and insecure about opening up - which made me drop therapy completely for a few years. But, then, I met my ex gf and she gave me a lot of support to try it again. I attempted two other therapists before I found the one I just instantly clicked with. And now, I’ve been consistently in therapy with her for almost four years.

Finding a therapist you are comfortable with sometimes takes a while. It’s a similar process to finding a good family doctor or even that perfect hairstylist that just gets you. It takes some trial and error, but there are many wonderful professionals out there. So if you are able to, go to therapy!

I don’t know where you are from, but in Brazil you are able to get free therapy from SUS (the public health system) and even from university students - who are in training, but are being supervised by professionals who will help them with your case. So, do a little research in your country to see if you can do something like this, if you have no means to afford it any other way. Do a few sessions with them, see how you feel - you can always stop it if you are uncomfortable and try again when you’re ready c:

***

Now, about ADHD.

ADHD can be really difficult to be diagnosed. Even the name doesn’t make any sense because ADHD is far from just being Can’t Sit Still And Forgets Shit™ disorder, you know? I have the inattentive type, which means I was not the hyper, disruptive child in class. Most girls with ADHD have the inattentive type and are only diagnosed later in life because it is extremely overlooked by parents, professors and the medical community. (ADHD in general is overlooked, but the inattentive type is “less of an inconvenience to the neurotypical”, therefore, it’s not really noticed).

Do you really want to know how I found out? I found out through fucking Tumblr HUISDHFIUD. I’m not even joking. A mutual of mine here on simblr reblogged something about ADHD and I chuckled and went like “that’s funny, I do that”.

But then I started reading the symptoms and watching videos of people with ADHD talking about it... And I was shocked to see that many of the things I thought were just average traits were actually symptoms. Then the penny dropped real hard and I told both my therapist and my psychiatrist that I thought I could have ADHD. We went through the testing shenanigans and, surprise surprise, I’m neurodivergent 😅

I’m still trying to get used to it. I mean, I’ve received the official diagnosis only a couple of weeks ago! But it’s shocking how misunderstood it is. Never, in a billion years, I would have thought I had ADHD. NEVER.

So, raising awareness and talking about mental health is really really important. Knowing yourself is really important. Having professionals that you trust is really important. And being validated is important.

My biggest advice would be to trust your body. You know your limits and you know yourself better than anyone else. If you believe you could have a mental illness or a neurodivergency, surround yourself with people who are supportive and try getting your diagnosis ❤️

I’m so sorry this is long af. But I hope this is helpful and answers your questions! Take it easy 🌼

#long post tw #thaistalks #nonsims #mental health #adhd #therapy

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thepoliticalpatient · 3 years

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How to get your Humira level tested thru Prometheus

I started taking Humira for my Crohn's in July of last year. Getting onto this medication was a gigantic pain in my ass, but I actually think the part that ended up being the hardest was dealing with getting my levels tested, so I wanted to write a post detailing that process. There is lots of info here that I wish I had known at the start. I actually have been wanting to write this post since last September, which was when I actually had the test done, but the whole situation didn't get fully wrapped up until today, 6 months later, and I didn't want to write it until I had complete information.

I will try very hard to make this an informative post and not just a rant but I'm not sure I have the self-restraint tbh.

OK, to start: what even is this test? With biologics, you need to maintain a high enough concentration of the drug in your system, to prevent your body from producing antibodies against the medication, and for it to be effective. My (now former - more on that soon lol) gastroenterologist is pretty passionate about making sure his patients keep a good level and will have them go on a weekly dose instead of the normal every-other-week dose if their levels aren't to his liking.

Importantly, the timing of this test is vital. You can't get it measured in the days immediately after you inject or your levels will be super high. The goal is to find out what the level is when it's at its lowest, i.e. in the day or two before your injection. My (former) gastroenterologist wanted me to get this test done between my second and third doses. That didn't end up happening because of how much of a clusterfuck this whole thing was.

So this test is only done by one company in the United States, Prometheus Biosciences. The name of the test is Anser ADA. They also have similar tests for measuring the levels of other biologics, like Anser IFX which measures Remicade levels (ADA = adalimumab, which is the generic name for Humira; IFX = infliximab, or Remicade). They have tests for Stelara and Entyvio too. If I had to guess, I'd say that the info in this post is probably pertinent to those tests as well, but I cannot guarantee it. I only know for sure about my own experience with Anser ADA.

Because this test can only be performed by Prometheus, it is likely that you cannot just go to your hospital's lab and have them draw your blood. It's possible they will do this draw for you and mail the blood to Prometheus, but you'll want to be certain to clarify this with your doctor.

My doctor's office gave me a lot of extremely wrong information, so I had no idea about this. I actually showed up at my hospital's phlebotomy lab on the morning before my third Humira dose, handed them a form that my doctor's staff had given me that contained the order for the bloodwork, and they took my blood and I thought I was done with it. Then WEEKS later at my next appointment with my doctor, he was like "did you ever get that Prometheus test done?" and I was like "wait do you not have the results back from the blood I gave weeks ago?" and he was like "you absolute imbecile, we can't do that lab for you, you need to schedule that with Prometheus's phlebotomists" (I'm paraphrasing a little bit here). To this day I have no idea what happened to the blood I gave at the lab! I assume they were like "wait what do we do with this lol" and then threw it in the garbage and didn't bother to inform me????

This was just one of many bad experiences I’ve had with this doctor/hospital, but this was the one that finally pushed me over the edge. I have since changed to a new GI at a different hospital (which was its own fucking saga, omg, it should not be so hard to get your medical records transferred from one hospital to another).

ANYWAY, my point is, be very certain to talk with your doctor about whether your hospital can draw this blood for you. If they can't, you have to call Prometheus to set up a draw with them.

Prometheus is located in California but contracts with a network of phlebotomists throughout the country. You can set up an appointment for a phlebotomist to come to your home to draw your blood.

For some goddamn reason, instead of equipping their phlebotomists with the supplies they'll need, Prometheus will mail you a package ahead of your appointment that contains some supplies.

Here's my next pro-tip: Prometheus will use some very scary language to make it sound like you need to be waiting right at the door when this package arrives and to immediately put some of the contents of the package into the freezer or else something terrible will happen. This is not true. What's actually happening here is that the package will contain some shipping supplies, including an insulated container and an ice pack, which the phlebotomist will need in order to store your blood safely. They want you to pre-freeze that ice pack before the phlebotomist arrives so that it will be ready to go as soon as your blood is drawn. That's it. So there's nothing in the package that's gonna, like, go bad or something if you don't get it into the freezer right away.

The whole thing was kind of stressful because I didn't have any tracking info on the package or anything, but it did arrive ahead of my appointment.

Okay so the next big topic here is PAYMENT. This is a $2,500 test, and most insurance doesn't cover it.

Around the same time I scheduled the draw with Prometheus, I sent a message to my insurance carrier to ask whether they would cover the test. The rep who replied to my message needed to know the CPT code for the test and the NPI for Prometheus, which I found on Prometheus's prior authorization form here. The insurance rep then said that this test would require my doctor to complete a prior authorization. If I got the prior auth, then insurance would cover the test at the out-of-network rate, which would require me to pay 35% of the cost. Without the prior authorization, they would deny the claim entirely.

I sent a message to my doctor's office asking them to complete the prior authorization stat, as I had already scheduled the draw with Prometheus and there wasn't much time. I was hesitant to cancel my draw, because that would require me to wait at least another 2 weeks (since you have to time the draw with your Humira doses), and I was already months later on this test than my doctor had originally wanted because of the whole snafu with thinking I could get it drawn at my hospital. My doctor's assistant replied and said she didn't think they'd have time to complete the prior auth, but not to cancel my appointment. She assured me that Prometheus would not charge me more than $75 if my insurance denied the claim.

I was extremely nervous about this. I was mainly concerned because I had found this info about Prometheus's payment assist program, which says that they'll reduce the charge to $75 if your income is below a certain threshold, and mine is not. Based on the info on that page, it looked like I didn’t qualify for any cost reduction, so I was pretty convinced they were gonna charge me the full $2,500.

Looking at the claims on my insurer's website, I see that Prometheus indeed tried to charge my insurance $2,500 for the test, and my insurance denied it. There is an additional $50 claim to my insurance, which insurance did pay, which I think was for the cost of having the phlebotomist visit my home.

Prometheus sent me several mailers about their payment assist program, which I just ignored because my income is too high. And for the next 6 months I sat anxiously waiting to receive a bill in the mail for several thousand dollars.

Well I'm happy to report that today, I finally received the bill from Prometheus, and it is for $75. I don't know why exactly they reduced it to that amount, but I am certainly not going to complain.

Now, I'm not certain of this, but my GUESS would be that the $75 rate is only for people who are doing self-pay. So, hilariously, if I had gotten the prior authorization done on time, my out of network coinsurance would have required me to pay 35% of the total claim, which would be $875. So, I mean....I can't guarantee that your experience will be the same as mine, but it seems to me like it is to your advantage to not go through your insurance for this test.

Oh, and Prometheus will NOT hold your test results hostage while they try to get paid. They sent the results to my doctor soon after the draw. And my levels were good!

ANYWAY, this was long, but I wanted to share everything I wish I had known before going through this. I hope it will help someone else who is trying to navigate this process!!!

#humira #prometheus #biologics #remicade #stelara #entyvio #healthcare #health insurance #essay post #medication #labs #phlebotomy #bloodwork

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babiekeiji · 4 years

Text

only you

pairing: kageyama tobio/f!reader word count: 4678 warnings: nsfw! includes mafia themes, detailed sex, some blood, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, some sorta unrequited love (yes you already know i’m the biggest whore for this shit), some making out

synopsis: kageyama tobio is part of a mafia and he can’t bear the thought of losing the ones he loved - and you don’t even know if you’re on the list.

a/n: HELLOOOO this is my first ever work here on tumblr i hope you guys like this one (even though it’s basically just . porn w a lil plot) yes leave me comments about how you guys liked this one!! hehe happy reading (◍•ᴗ•◍)

The night is quiet.

The only sound you hear is the soft buzzing of the air conditioning system and the clink of the ice in your drink, starting to form little tears outside your glass. You place your head in your hands and turn to Yachi, another medic of the mafia you belong to.

Yachi drums her fingers against the metal table she is sitting next to, anxious. “When are they coming back? It’s been nearly six hours.”

“I wouldn’t expect this one to be so easy,” Sugawara says, putting the last batch of gauzes and bandage rolls on the same table where Yachi stays adjacent. He puts his hands on his hips, “I wouldn’t expect any of their missions to be easy.”

Yachi begins to bite her nails in anticipation, her eyes pinned to the front doors of the manor. “Daichi would call, right? If he needed us?”

“If he needed us that bad,” you respond, taking your drink, “He would. Otherwise, he’d let us wait here.”

“I get worried for them every night they’re away,” Yachi muses, “We’re practically living in the middle of nowhere; it’s so hard to navigate at night.”

Sugawara sits down beside you on the couch, reaching for your drink. “They’ll be fine,” he sips, “They’re good at what they do—the most they’ve ever come back with was Hinata with a broken wrist.”

The silence ensues as the night grows. Sugawara falls asleep next to you on the couch, and Yachi gets up to make herself a cup of coffee.

How are you? You text Kageyama, to which he responds after a few minutes.

Almost done, he texts, I don’t know if anyone’s hurt. I’ll text you later on the way home.

Okay, you reply. Take care.

Keep safe.

“What’d he say?” Yachi comes in and sits on the couch across from you, a steaming cup of joe now in her hands. “I was hoping he texted you.”

“Kageyama doesn’t know the number of casualties,” you shake your head. “I don’t think we can call Kiyoko, either. They’re not exactly supposed to be on their phones in the gala.”

“How’d they get into this super-secret, all-rich-people gala again?” She asks, “I’m almost never told how their missions usually work.”

“Kiyoko hacks to get them in, I think.” You say, “Though this should be an easy mission for them. I hope there aren’t a lot of them injured.”

“We’ll have to ask Daichi permission to leave soon,” Sugawara stirs, “We’re running out of medical supplies.”

“Oh, shit, we are,” you glance towards the few remaining materials on the wheeled table. “I can go out tomorrow. I’ve got a practical exam for anatomy at 2 PM.”

“I’ll try to pick you up after school,” Sugawara answers. “But for now let’s try to get some rest.”

Sugawara lets you study his body while he sleeps, all while Yachi herself starts to drift off while she holds the now lukewarm cup of coffee in her hands. Sugawara starts to correct you on your mistakes halfway; at least the best he can in his groggy state. “You’re going to fail that exam,” he blinks slowly, yawning. “Did you even bother studying?”

“Yes, I did study!”

“Then why do you think the needle goes through here—”

The ground rumbles, signaling the nearing of a vehicle. Sugawara’s eyes light up and Yachi is suddenly wide awake. He motions for everyone to keep quiet, waiting for a sign that the car outside is them.

The familiar sound of Daichi’s car’s horn echoes in the night, and Sugawara is quick to run to the front door to let everyone in.

Tsukishima enters first, supporting an unconscious Yamaguchi with his hand wrapped around his waist, Yamaguchi’s arm slung across his shoulders. “He was drugged,” He says, approaching Yachi. “Someone was onto us.”

“Huh?” Yachi squeaks, quick to rearrange the couch’s pillows for Yamaguchi to lie on. “Settle him here, please.”

“Hey!” Tanaka enters, a cut on his cheekbone, Nishinoya limping after him. “We did great!”

“No, we didn’t,” Tsukishima rolls his eyes, sitting on the floor. “We would have been if Kageyama’s ass didn’t have to knock over the champagne tower.”

“Did he actually?” Sugawara asks, nudging Tanaka and Nishinoya to sit down on your couch. “Y/N. Get off. It’s time to work.”

“Daichi and Kageyama aren’t here yet,” you muse, eyes not leaving the opened front door. “Why?”

“Ah,” Tanaka waves his hand in excuse. “He’s getting an earful from our big daddy about how he almost compromised our mission and shit.”

Hinata runs through the doors, telling you to get up hastily so he can sit on your spot. “I’ve got a scratch on my knee,” he points to the part of his leg pant that ripped, showing a long, thin line of a wound, “It doesn’t hurt so much, though, so you can treat me later.”

You grab a rubber ribbon, a bottle of antiseptic and a few pieces of gauze. “Jesus, what did you land and trip on?” You ask as you begin to tie the ribbon above Hinata’s wound, trying to control the bleeding. Hinata leans back on the couch and closes his eyes.

Nishinoya snorts, “That’s a story.”

Sugawara puts a small bandaid on Tanaka’s cheek and ushers him off the couch so he can treat Nishinoya next.

As you finish cleaning Hinata’s wound, you see Kageyama and Daichi walk through the door, the first looking dejected with his head looking down to his shoes as he walks. Though your heart flutters at the sight of your pseudo-boyfriend, you can’t help but wonder why exactly he’s so despondent. He’s usually up and at it with Hinata after missions, arguing about who exactly did better between the two of them until Daichi or Sugawara tells them to cut it out. Today, Kageyama didn’t even bother looking at you before he left the living room.

Daichi settles in between Nishinoya and Hinata with a long sigh while Kageyama proceeds up the stairs of the manor, most likely heading to his room.

“Jeez,” Suga says, feeling up Nishinoya’s leg. “You did a number on him this time.”

“Ow!” Nishinoya says as Sugawara stretches his leg towards himself. “Ow, shit, stop!”

“He can’t stop, idiot,” you chuckle, starting to tape the gauze to Hinata’s leg. “He needs to treat your leg so you won’t cramp later on.”

“My leg just cramped, do you want me to cramp again?”

Sugawara stands up to get a hot pack for Nishinoya’s leg. Yachi is finished patching up Tsukishima and Yamaguchi and walks over to help Daichi.

“I’m not hurt,” he stops her with a raise of his hand. “I just have an excruciating headache.”

“Let me check your blood pressure at least,” Yachi says, going to grab her kit. “You might need more than a painkiller.”

“Where is Kiyoko?” Sugawara asks, entering the living room with a hot pack and a cold pack, giving it to Nishinoya. “Here. Alternate these on your leg every fifteen minutes until the ache is gone. Shoo!”

Nishinoya mumbles a quick thank you, Suga and leaves to his room upstairs. Daichi sighs for the nth time that night. “Kiyoko’s still out buying some supplies. She might not be back until dawn.”

“Poor Kiyoko,” Yachi says as she finishes taking Daichi’s blood pressure. “You’re all good, Daichi. I’ll go fetch you a painkiller for your headache and you can go on and rest.”

“Thanks, Yachi. You’re the best.”

Hinata seems to have fallen asleep on the couch because you start hearing small noises of snoring coming from him while you roll his pant leg back down. Standing up, you move his face side to side slowly, checking for any more injuries before you leave. “Hinata’s all set,” you say, smiling. “And super asleep too.”

“That boy almost died,” Daichi shakes his head. “He tripped and got left behind.”

“How did you guys almost get caught…?” You ask, grabbing the blankets under the table for Hinata, Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi, who are all sound asleep.

“Kageyama knocked over a champagne tower on accident,” Daichi replies. Yachi approaches him and asks him to hold his palm out so she can give him his painkiller. Daichi takes the pill and the glass of water and swallows it before saying, “And behind the champagne tower was the man we were trying to avoid. He recognized Kageyama right away and called his goons on us.”

“Poor thing,” you say, glancing up to his room.

“You should go to visit him, Y/N.” Sugawara smiles, sitting down beside Daichi. He yawns. “Better check up on your little boyfriend before he locks his door.”

“Shut up, Sugawara,” you say as you collect some stuff to bring up to Kageyama. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“He isn’t huh?” Daichi chuckles. “Do you wanna explain why I’ve been seeing you go out of his room at 2 am lately?”

“Shut up! Goodbye. I am going now!”

“Hey!” Sugawara calls while you climb the staircase. “Not too loud tonight, okay? I have condoms in my room.”

“Sugawara!”

“They’re chocolate-flavored!”

—

Kageyama is silent.

You don’t know how to react because he lies on his bed, back facing you, with almost all his mission clothes strewn on the floor—the expensive tie you picked out for him lies beneath his work table, his Gucci belt hung on his chair, his socks on his nightstand, his vest, dress shirt, and blazer was all thrown across the expanse of his room. He is left bare, with only his dress pants to cover him up. The small lamp that sits on his desk illuminates the room, albeit hardly enough for you to make out the shadows of his toned back.

“Kageyama?” You whisper. “It’s me. I’ve got to clean you up.”

He’s not the type to be so despondent after a mission. You don’t hear him cry, though—you wish you did because when you sit on the edge of his bed and look over to study his face, he’s staring straight ahead like he’s looking five hundred one meters away. You set down the pile of instruments and materials on the space of his bed and pat his leg softly, trying to comfort him at least.

With the faint light of the room, you can see multiple cuts on his forearms and a bruise starting to blossom on his shoulder. His side is filled with scars and faded yellows of bruises from missions in the past. Kageyama’s hands seem okay—his knuckles are bloody and bruised, but it doesn’t look like the blood came from him.

You scootch over to run your fingers through his hair. “Kags,” you say softly. “I’m here for you.”

Kageyama closes his eyes and starts to shift so he’s lying on his back. He opens his eyes to look at you. “My best friend almost died today, Y/N.”

With the faint glow of his small lamp, you make out the tears that slip from his eyes. Kageyama’s eyes are glossy, and so full of love and emotion for his best friend as he starts sobbing, his hands instantaneously reaching up to wipe the tears off his face. You gently take his wrists away from his face and start swiping away each tear that comes out of his eyes.

“Because of me,” he says in between sobs. “Because of me, Y/N. He almost died because of me.”

He’s so beautiful when he’s overcome with emotion.

But you don’t know what to say to him that will make him feel better. You don’t think saying that will make him feel better, so you sit in silence, wiping away his tears.

He pushes your hands away to start angrily wiping his tears.

He doesn’t stop crying as you prepare antiseptic-soaked cotton for his cuts. You gently take one of his arms and swipe the cotton slowly, slowly over his wounds, blowing over them right after to ease the burn. His crying is reduced to sniffles, and soon enough, he stops crying altogether.

“You’re beautiful when you’re open to me like that,” you say, placing cute teddy bear band-aids on his smaller cuts. You take one of his hands and kiss all of his fingers. “I love knowing you trust me enough to cry to me.”

He uses the same hand you kissed to cup your face. He looks at you with a blank look on his face, running his thumb over the expanse of your cheek. “I still have to patch you up,” you whisper. “Give me a few minutes, okay?”

He nods and lets you handle him.

When you touch Kageyama you feel like you’re holding something so fragile; you’re afraid that one single move you make on him will break him and make him hate you forever, but Kageyama’s always so gentle with you. He’s not going to flinch or groan in pain when you deal with him, because he knows you’re scared. He always tells you good job after you fix him up because he’s just that thoughtful. He stares at you with stars in his eyes while you wipe an alcohol round on his knuckles to get rid of the blood.

“Where else are you hurt?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

Kageyama pulls you to him and wraps his arms around you. “I was so scared, Y/N,” he whispers. “I didn’t want to lose Hinata.”

You run your nails over the dip of his back where his spine is supposed to be, “You didn’t, Kageyama. You know to be careful the next time around.”

He holds you even tighter if that were possible. “I don’t know, it’s just—what if I actually lost him this time? And if I did, it was because I was so dumb?”

“Kageyama—”

“I almost got him killed, Y/N.” He pulls away and looks you dead in the eyes. “I almost killed my best friend.”

You’ve had enough.

You grab his face with both your hands and bring him to you to kiss him square on the lips. “You’re fine, Kageyama,” you say, before kissing him back even more. “You two will be alright.”

Though you say such comforting words, your heart aches because you say them with every bit of love you have for him inside of you—but you know he won’t love you the same way you do.

You know he won’t love you because he’s scared of losing you the most.

Take the risk, you want to tell him, while you kiss him even more. I’m worth the stakes. Hug me. Kiss me. Fill me up. Love me, in all the ways you can. Love me in all the ways you want.

Take the risk, you think, as you hold his face in your hands, your breaths mixing together as you look into his eyes, so intense, and so full of love, Love me.

You shift to straddle his waist. Your mouth pecks the corner of his mouth and trails down to his jaw. “You’re okay, Kageyama.” You remind him again, as you bring your face back to him. You kiss him again, prodding your tongue to his mouth, which he gladly opens for you. Your tongue explores every flavor of him Kageyama has to offer, while Kageyama lets his guard down enough to start sucking on your tongue. You pull away to place your mouth on his neck, no spot left unkissed.

Soon you begin sucking, licking, biting everywhere around his neck. He moans, “Fuck.” Kageyama places his hands on your hips, and you know exactly how to move them to get him riled up.

As you continue to mark his neck, you grind on him faster, moaning in time with him. “Fuck, baby—” he breathes. “You’re so good.”

You stop your assault on his neck to suck on his bottom lip, then his tongue. “Mmf,” he whines, hearing the lewd sounds of your mouth wrapped around his tongue. He pulls away to whisper, “Baby, stop.”

You stop, doing your best to grind on him slower than before. “What’s wrong, Tobio?”

He places a firm grip on your hips and squeezes his eyes shut, and it’s only now you notice that his breathing has gotten erratic. The warm glow of his lamp provides you the small shapes of the blossoming love bites on his neck and collarbones. “I.,” he whispers, shaking his head.

“What do you want, Tobio?” You say, halting the roll of your hips on his clothed cock. You take one of his hands and lick up his thumb before putting it in your mouth. You moan, making the lewdest face you can. You can feel his cock twitch in between your thighs, which only drives you to continue your grinding, his thumb still in your mouth. You let go of his hand and place it back on your hips. “What do you want?”

Kageyama’s eyes are closed in pleasure as you continue to grind on him. “Fuck,” he says. “You’re so hot.”

You chuckle and lean down to kiss him square on the lips.

Kageyama gets tired of your grinding and switches your places so he’s on top, humping his clothed, fully-hard cock uselessly against your pussy. He settles his forearms to the sides of your head and leans in enough just so your mouth is next to his ear, and you whisper, “My body is yours, Kageyama.”

He moans quite loudly at that.

“Don’t say things like that, Y/N.” He says, hastily taking off your shirt and your sweatpants.

“Why not?” You bite your nails, watching Kageyama get riled up. You arch your back as he reaches for your bra clasp, undoing it with ease and tossing it to the side, leaving you practically bare naked in front of him, save the panties you have on.

He leaves a kiss on your lips first before going to lick the length of your throat. “You don’t know what you do to me, baby.” He sucks on the spot he knows you’re weakest and he has you moaning.

Kageyama’s hips continue to grind against yours, his cock getting harder and harder by the second. The trails his own kisses down to the valley between your breasts and kisses both your under breasts before taking one nipple in his mouth and the other between his forefinger and thumb.

“A-ah, Tobio,” you say, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure nearly overwhelms you. “Your tongue feels so..so good.”

He releases the nipple in his mouth with a lewd pop, “Yeah? You like it when I have your tits in my mouth, baby?”

“Mmm,” you nod as he takes the other one into his mouth and starts sucking harshly on it, this time biting it too. “Oh Tobio, fuck!”

As he continues his assault on your breasts, he stops grinding to play with the hem of your panties. “Can I?” He asks, tugging. You nod hastily and he wraps his mouth around your nipple again, sucking even harsher this time. Tobio takes off your panties and drags a finger up and down your folds.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Kageyama smiles. “This wet for me?”

“Only for you, Kageyama,” you wrap your arms around his neck as he settles his face in between the crook of yours. “Only for you.”

Every single touch Kageyama delivers feels like a lick of fire straight from the hearth of the gods; your skin hot to the touch. Kageyama’s fingers, palms, skin roaming everywhere on your body only leaves you wanting more and more of him to warm you up even further.

His calloused thumb starts to rub gentle circles on your clit, causing you to moan. He drags another finger up and down your slit before easing it into you. “I love that you’re so wet for me, sweetheart,” he whispers, finally starting to piston his one finger in and out of you. “It’s so fucking hot.”

He adds another finger and makes his pace inside of you even faster, and soon enough, you’re writing underneath him, tears in your eyes, the knot in your stomach starting to become irritating as Kageyama seems to be nowhere near letting you cum. Soon enough, he adds a third finger, which just has you crying in pleasure as his pace slows. “Kageyama,” you whine. “Kageyama, Kageya—”

He uses his other hand to cover your mouth. “Do you want the others to hear who’s fucking you good, Y/N? Is that what you want?”

You moan as his words drip in filth. He curls his fingers inside of you, finally reaching your sweetest spot. You moan and whine and writhe under him as he continues to pump his curled fingers inside of you. “You’re so loud, Y/N,” he chuckles. “I love that I make you like that.”

“Only you, Kageyama,” you whisper, “Only you.”

He pulls his three fingers out of you so suddenly you whine from the emptiness.

“Kageyama,” you moan. “I want you in me, Tobio.”

Kageyama swears at your filthy words. He’s quick to stick two of his cum-coated fingers into your mouth for you to suck on, the other hand going to unbutton his pants. He pulls away for a second to take off both his dress pants and his underwear to finally reveal his cock—standing proudly, not quite lifted due to how heavy and girthy he is. His cock is already leaking precum as he strokes it in front of your wet pussy. “Like what you see?” He teases, prying your legs wide open.

“I’d like it better if it was in my mouth,” you mumble, rubbing tight circles on your clit as he gets himself slick between your folds. “Or if it was actually—ah—in me.”

He positions the head of his dick to your entrance, smiling at the heat that meets him. “Where’d you learn to talk like that, baby? That’s dirty.”

You bite your nail and shrug, spreading your legs even wider for him. “I try to figure out what things you like to do while we fuck.”

Kageyama pushes himself into you little by little, the stretch and the fill of his cock inside you burning but at the same time feeling like the best thing in the world. “Kageyama,” you moan as he leans down to place his head between the crook of your neck. You turn your head to the side so you can whisper into his ear, “You fill me up so good.”

Kageyama almost growls at your words, inside of you balls deep now. His breathing grows more and more erratic with every centimeter of him inside of you. “Move, Kageyama,” you plea, raking your nails down his toned back. “Please, move.”

“N-No, baby, I—” he shudders. “I can’t, I—fuck—you feel so good. I might cum with two thrusts.”

Kageyama does his best to keep still, tense as he can be, while you wrap your hips around his waist and start moving on your own.

“Stop.” Kageyama hisses.

He then proceeds to fill you up to the brink again, balls deep, and pound into you at a monstrous pace. Kageyama’s not too big and not too long; he’s just enough that whenever he thrusts inside of you, you feel like heaven. His grip on your hips is sure to leave marks for days, but in the end, you know you love looking at them in the mirror, along with the love bites he loves to trail down your body—to you, it’s a sign of how much Kageyama loves you.

At least, how you hope he does.

Kageyama moans shamelessly into your ear, whispering I love the way you feel and You’re so tight. His filthy words only add to the knotting in your stomach, just as your fingers begin to rub tight circles on your clit. You moan as Kageyama finally gets to the spot only he knows how to reach, and from that point on, you’re nothing but a writhing mess underneath him.

“Love it when you moan like that for me,” he says, kissing your cheek while also slapping your ass, the smack resounding throughout the room. “You make the most beautiful faces.”

“Fuck, Tobio,” you whine as you throw your head side to side. You grab one of his hands and put it to your breast, to which he understands what to do right away. Kageyama begins toying with your nipple, and soon enough, is bringing one of them into his mouth once again, all while his thrusts never cease to hit your sweet spot. “Oh god, just like that..”

He stops all his ministrations on your body, sitting up and spreading your legs even wider before he thrusts in and out of you again, watching you take him so effortlessly. “You’re so wet, Y/N…” he says, and the tone of his voice confuses you. “I..I love that you’re so wet…”

Your libido suddenly disappears, and you reach up to cup his face. “Tobio—”

He jerks his face away from your touch and wipes across his cheeks—why was he crying? In the middle of sex too?

Nonetheless, he places your leg onto his shoulder and pounds into you again, this time, crying above you as well—and really, you don’t know how to feel because Tobio’s cock is hitting places your fingers can’t reach but at the same time his tears roll down the valley of your breasts and now you can’t help but cry too because everything just feels so good and wow Kageyama’s thumb is on your clit—

And you’re coming, his name on your lips like a mantra, again and again—Tobio, Tobio, oh god, yes!

He stops thrusting and cums inside of you, his sobbing still continuing, groaning while he rides out his high inside you. “I—ah—I’m sorry,” he cries. “You felt so good around me and today was just so stressful—”

You smile cup his cheek with your hand, wiping away one of his stray tears with your thumb. “It’s okay, Tobio. You’re safe with me.”

At that, Tobio bursts.

No, he literally bursts—his face bunches up a little bit before he closes his eyes and starts crying so much. He collapses on top of you and just wraps his arms around your waist, crying and crying and crying and crying, snot starting to collect on your skin and tears rolling down the sides of your body. But you don’t mind.

You really don’t mind, because these are the few moments you know are special between only you and Tobio; nothing else in the world can compare to you feel when you’re with Tobio, whether in sex or just in general—so all while Tobio shakes and stutters and cries and moans on top of you, you hold him tight, even tighter than you have before because you know you may never get to experience a love like this ever again.

Even if you know he can’t love you back.

Kageyama pulls out of you only then, going to lay beside you instead. “I’m sorry I cried while we had sex,” he sniffles. “I’m just—I’m so stressed.”

“It’s alright,” you remind him, and you think you won’t ever stop reminding him that it’s okay to feel. Moving closer to him, you wrap your arms around him and bring his head to your neck. “At least I know you’re comfortable around me.”

“I’m most comfortable around you, Y/N.”

You inhale sharply, trying your best not to even think of saying it—

“I love you, Tobio.”

You’re so stupid. You already know what he’ll say next. I love you too, he’ll start. But you know I can’t.

He sighs and clings on to you just as tight.

“I love you even more...”

And you’re left waiting. Waiting for the moment your back hits the ground after falling from the highest altitude in space. Waiting for the moment your heart breaks into fractions and pieces so you can piece them together right away, once again.

But the fall never comes, and the night stays the same.

The night is quiet, and so is he.

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