#I've never been able to use it for laundry again since

[ineed-to-sleep]

She is simply the cutest creature in the whole entire universe. To me

[cherrychilli]

18+

Eddie Munson x AFAB reader, friends to lovers, mentions of nudity, brief mention of masturbation (m). Basically, Eddie finds you sleeping naked in his bed.

A/N: Idk I've had this idea in my head for too long now and I need to exorcise it out of me with this little drabble or I'll never be able to get on with my life.

Forest Hills trailer park wasn't your usual stop after clocking out of work but after the day you’ve had you don’t have it in you to wait for the next bus back to your apartment. Your place is 30 minutes away but the journey is sure to take even longer in the current downpour.

Staying over at the trailer wasn't anything new. A spare key was entrusted to you years ago and you made use of it on days like this to crash at Eddie’s for convenience sake. The key came with the promise that you were welcome to anything you needed even if both Eddie and Wayne were away – shower, food, an extra change of clothes, what have you, and you needed them all today.

With Wayne out of town for a few days and Eddie due back in two hours you sink into auto pilot, weary down to the bone from your shift. Maybe that’s why it doesn’t feel as weird as it probably should when you started to undress in their kitchenette, hanging your work clothes over the back of a nearby chair, rummaging through the fridge in your bra and panties for a quick bite to eat before heading for the shower.

There wasn’t much in it besides beer since Wayne hadn’t been around to stock it. Eddie always preferred ordering take out over getting groceries – something you were going to nag him for again when you had the strength to do so.

Cereal it would have to be.

You located a box inside one of the cupboards, tipping the wheaty, sugary contents straight into your mouth without bothering with a bowl and spoon. It’s not lost on you how similarly you’re acting to Eddie right down to the unruly state of half undress, wiping crumbs off your lips with the back of your hand. If you finished off with a belch it'd be like he never left the trailer this morning.

The messy mouthfuls of cereal prove enough to silence the toad’s croak of hunger that'd been gurgling noisily inside your belly, putting the box away.

Traipsing through, feet dragging, you threw your clothes into the washer next along with your underwear, completely nude now in the Munson trailer as you made your way to the shower – but not before reaching out for Eddie's Garfield mug that sat on a nearby shelf, turning it around so that the cartoon cat's lazy smirk no longer faced you. For your modesty.

You try to keep the shower brisk, not wanting to use up all the hot water but with the way it sprays down on your aching body, the steam and heat combo soothing your poor sore muscles, it’s so blissful that you have to keep yourself from nodding off right there.

You did make use of Eddie’s body wash, some spicy, woodsy smelling thing in a jet-black bottle but you didn't dare use the two in one shampoo that sat in their shower caddy. It might have worked fine for Eddie and his wild mane but you knew better than to apply the stuff to your own hair. Fortunately, experience had taught you to carry a travel sized bottle filled with your own shampoo whenever you stayed over, working over your locks in a lather scented with cranberries and vanilla.

Stamina depleting by the second, toweling off and brushing your teeth takes the last sliver of energy out of you. Eyelids slipping, movements sluggish, limbs feeling too heavy for your own body to hold up – you’re shutting down whether you like it or not.

Dropping the damp towel on his bedroom floor, you intended to change, you really did. You’d even picked out one of Eddie’s washed t-shirts and a pair of boxers out of the laundry and set them down at the foot of the bed to put on before you made yourself comfortable but that’s not what happened.

Still nude, you crawl into bed, seeking warmth and soft comfort, numbed down to a kind of tunnel vision with rest being your one and only goal.

It feels all the more natural because you’re used to sleeping naked in your own bed, much too tired to remember that you’re not in your bed, draping a blanket that doesn't belong to you over your spent body, surrendering to sleep seconds after your head hits the pillow.

It'd still been raining when Eddie returns later. Dragging himself through the trailer, nearly as worn down as you had been, shaking the excess water out of his hair like a dog trying to get dry.

The smell of your shampoo still lingering in the air tells him you're there, finding you curled up in his bed, all bundled up to your neck. The sight makes him smile.

It doesn't take too long for him to join you, following a similar routine – a quick bite with the addition of a beer and then a shower, only he doesn't skip out on clothing himself in his PJ's first.

If he’d shared the blanket with you he might have found out about your lack of dress sooner but as the gentleman that he can sometimes be, he pulls out a spare blanket from the closet so as to not wake you, prolonging the discovery. Being friends for so long meant that sharing a bed was never awkward even after you'd became adults.

That was until the next morning came.

It’s not the stream of morning light brightening from a cool blue to a warm amber peeking in between the curtains that wakes Eddie, or even the tinny smack of his neighbor’s broken screen door gusting open just a few feet away from his bedroom window. It’s the warmth of your ass pressed flush against his crotch and his nose nestled in your sweet-smelling hair that pulls him out of a dream he wont be able to recall later if he tried.

He shifts closer, eyes cracking open, remembering the tiny bottle of shampoo sitting on the bathroom counter. Remembering the new toothbrush placed in the cup next to his own. Remembering the powder blue towel that neither he nor Wayne ever used laying on his bedroom floor.

And then he remembers that he’s not alone.

Oh...

And then he wishes that he was.

Panic snaps up like a beartrap around Eddie when he realizes he's hard – his thick, throbbing erection pressed right up against your body.

Growing clammy, cold sweat beads on the back of his neck but he’s in luck because you haven’t noticed yet, still sound asleep.

This close together, he knows the slightest movement could rouse you. But what was the alternative? Wait it out? Hope to hell his boner goes away? Fat fucking chance. Not when the soft swell of your ass and your body heat alone had him questioning how he could ever go back to his calloused fist after this.

Carefully, desperately, he tries to inch back without waking you but just as he feared, you begin to stir. Your back arches instinctively, seeking out his warm, solid frame even in your sleep.

Shit shit shit.

The covers slip as you shift, your bare shoulders coming into view, eyes starting to flutter open. With no other option, Eddie swiftly rolls on to his back, his hard on no longer pressed up against you but the problem persists.

“Oh, morning”, you greet him through a yawn, pulling an arm out to rub at your eyes, blanket slipping lower but the frantic boy hasn’t noticed yet, too busy whipping his pillow out from under him to place over his lap.

“Uh-hey. Shower’s free if you wanna go first”, he offers quickly, smiling hard, hoping to subtly usher you out because he's too afraid to get up and risk you getting a load of the tent in his pants if he were to go ahead of you.

“Thanks”, you yawn again, still occupied with rubbing at your sleepy eyes to notice your best friend's pale face turning beet fucking red in an instant as you clamber out of bed, blankets no longer concealing you.

Eddie doesn’t know where to look first. His eyes dart everywhere, every bare inch of you on display. So much soft, naked skin it’s making him short circuit.

His gaze eagerly travels over the slope of your breasts as they jiggle gently with your movements, taking in your soft nipples, moving down over your belly and hips, noticing a few new freckles and beauty marks there along the way to the soft curls between your legs.

His erection digs into the pillow, brain dangerously close to fizzing because he’d been pressed up against you like that all night and not even known it.

A shiver works its way through you, making you question why it feels so drafty in his room all of a sudden. You turn back to ask Eddie if there’s anything wrong with the heating, catching the shocked expression on his face.

Looking down, you're met with the sight of your nude body, breasts bare, no underwear. It's a good thing the occupants of the trailer park liked to mind their own business, even if sometimes you thought they did so to a fault because in any other neighborhood your piercing screech would have had everyone within earshot dialing up the cops.

The scream ricochets off the walls at an ear ringing volume, causing Eddie to jolt and lose his balance, falling out of bed while you leapt back in. Grabbing his spare pillow, you press one half against your chest and squeeze the rest between your thighs to shield yourself.

Now he slaps his hands over his eyes.

---

More than anything, you try so hard to push it aside. To pretend that it hadn't happened but it looms over you like a cloud on the brink of bursting with rain.

After three whole days of walking around eggshells around each other it's Eddie who breaks first.

"I can't stand this I don't know what else to do, Can we just talk about it please?"

“Eddie…", you sigh, a gentle warning.

"So what if I saw you naked? you saw my boner!...sort of. I mean, I guess that doesn't exactly make us even but it has to count for something, right? you're not alone in this"

You immediately set your wide eyes on the only other patrons in the diner to see if they’d overheard – two older women swapping pictures of their grandchildren over coffee and cheesecake. When neither of them take a pause in the middle of cooing about little Tommy's third Birthday or little Emily's first day of Kindergarten you redirect your attention back to Eddie.

“Eddie! Keep your voice down!”, you whisper shout at him from across the booth. "There are literal grandmother's here!"

He rolls his eyes. Not mean spirited, just unconcerned by the ladies and what they may or may not have overheard.

And then, even though no one’s paying either of you any attention, you lean closer over your half-finished key lime pie, one hand shielding the side of your face like you’re trying to avoid getting recognized by an ex who’s just walked in.

"I'm so embarrassed...please can we just drop it?", you plead, voice hushed.

He gives you this look of mild incredulity. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Trust me", and the inflection in his tone almost gives him away, prompting him to double back immediately.

The last thing he wants is for you to feel more uncomfortable than you already do. So he doesn't need you to catch on that he's got every moment of your unintended strip tease memorized. Or that he likes to replay what he's since thought of as the best 10 seconds of his life over and over again when he's fucking his fist in the shower.

“I just mean that it's nothing to be embarrassed by. It could have happened to anyone. Who among us hasn’t napped in just their birthday suit before, am I right?” he finishes with a slight wince, knowing none of this is exactly helpful.

And you know he’s only trying to be nice in his own, sweet, bumbling way but you still feel terrible.

"I don't know if I can shake this feeling", you cast your eyes down, looking too close to despondent for his liking.

"Listen I- I don't know how to fix this but I want to. Please just tell me what I can do and I'll do it, okay?"

God, he's sweet and it makes you feel a little flustered being on the receiving end of that gentle stare, needing to shift the mood lest you drown in all that earnestness pooling in his eyes.

It's moments like this that call for a bad joke to cut the tension, right? some momentary and well meaning deflection before you're ready to address the matter at hand again.

Letting out a half hearted laugh, you make your best attempt to inject some humor into the situation.

"I don't know. Maybe it might help if you got naked too", you nervously scraped your fork against the buttery graham cracker crust of your pie, dislodging a few golden crumbs.

It was so very clearly a joke. At least you had thought so. Eddie? not so much.

His brown eyes go wide, looking scandalized, his voice coming out a little more quite than you're used to.

"What?"

"I mean, I showed you mine after all", you tried again in a cadence that was wholly unserious but once again, he fails to catch on.

"You want me to get naked for you?"

You should correct him and you mean to but before you're able to do just that, something about the way he's staring at you makes you want to match his seriousness. The fact that he didn't say no right away strikes you as weirdly intriguing.

"You don't have to", you clarify, adding, "It's just that – well, you asked and I think it could maybe help? to really get us on even ground?”

The words that come out don't feel like you own – foreign to your ears even though they're said in your voice, with your own lips forming them and your own tongue curling around every syllable.

What the hell am I doing?

Eddie pauses. Seconds drag on like nails on a chalkboard as he taps a ringed finger thoughtfully on the edge of his empty plate smudged with faint traces of cream cheese and lime zest.

"Fine. On one condition", he leans back, arms crossing over his chest, smiling wide and megawatt bright.

Oh my god is this really happening?

“...Yeah?”

"You're going to undress me"

---

Part two? who knows. Certainly not I.

[wastemanjohn]

TW misogyny emotional abuse sexual assault

i am not going to use the term 4b movement for this post because I have recently become aware it has problematic/transphobic associations. however the idea of decentering men - not dating men, not marrying men, not having sex with men, not having children with men - is gaining traction for a reason. it was gaining traction before the US election, and after yesterday - well. i don't need to explain do i?

it's terrifying. the hatred of women. the enjoyment of the hatred of women, the revelling in the hatred. the women who join in with the hatred, maybe thinking they're different. maybe thinking they'll be spared from it. that they can camouflage, hide somehow.

it won't work.

on a more individual level, so many of us have fucking had enough. we are tired. we are sick of the podcast bros demeaning us for our "body counts." we are done with the constant policing and control of what we do with our bodies, and in america's case the very real and terrifying threat to life and health that has arisen from that. we are done with the daily objectification, humiliation and harassment. we are done with weaponised incompetence, we are done with having our careers and areas of knowledge mansplained to us, we are done with being sluts and prudes and always being wrong no matter what.

can you blame us? can you really fucking blame us?

men are conditioned to hate us. some recognise that and work on it. unfortunately, many, many more do not.

the first time i heard labour by paris paloma i bawled my eyes out and couldn't entirely understand why.

the first time i read the husband stitch by carmen maria machado i bawled my eyes out and couldn't entirely understand why.

i understand now.

i think many of us have quietly stopped dating men before we even knew there was a movement around it. at least it seems that way to me. but just speaking on my own experience - i haven't really been dating men since early 2023. i briefly dated men again a few months back; i abruptly stopped because it sucked. because, hand on my heart, since i stopped dating men - i have never been happier, freer, and more secure in myself. i have never been more fucking content.

my life is beautiful now. i have my wonderful friendships. i have my loving bonkers family. i have my career, i have my aspirations, i have my wealth of interests and hobbies, i have my beautiful (four legged) sons. all of these things are so much sweeter when i can enjoy them in peace.

peace; when i'm not picking up after him because he can't be bothered to walk two feet to put his dirty underwear in the laundry basket. when i'm not heartbroken for months because i thought i was going to marry him but he had another long term girlfriend and a whole other life that he kept secret from me for so embarrassingly long. when i'm not doing mental gymnastics to excuse that time he made jokes about my sexual abuse, when he was the first person i really told, or the time he didn't comfort me and didn't understand why i was so upset when another ex of mine was in court for viewing CSAM. when i'm not spending another weekend alone due to him cancelling at the last minute yet again for his mates. when i'm not feeling vulnerable and confused because we've negotiated a scene and he purposely crosses my limits because it's hot to him (so many times). when i dont have to listen to everyone say what a nice guy he is but he's been pressuring me for nudes for the last two weeks.

when he can't handle my proportionate emotions and suggests i'm just being mentally ill when i'm trying to communicate that he's hurt me. when he tells me it's a good thing i've taken up dance because i'll get more toned and be able to open my legs wider. when he drives really fast and erratic because he's pissed off with me and wants to scare me. when he lies to me about having huntington's disease so i won't break up with him.

every one of these is a different guy BTW. and this is just off the top of my head.

how many stories do you have?

anyway 100/10 highly recommend being a spinster with cats. society hates strong, self assured women who can make it alone. i have never wanted to be that woman more.

and no - before anyone comes at me I am not saying all men are monsters or that only men are abusive. i do not hate men just for being men. i have some great men in my life as friends and family. i am merely making the right choice for me based on my experiences, based on how hostile the current climate is towards women, and i support the fuck out of anyone who is doing or wants to do the same. sorrows and fucking prayers to anyone who has a problem with that.

i don't see why i should keep my experiences to myself. why any of us should.

my DMs are open for anyone who needs someone to talk to about this stuff.

[littlest-bugz]

Relapsing is a part of healing

[one systems perspective on relapsing during Resolution/late stage DID recovery.]

This post has been cooking in my drafts for a while, but since I'm back in a headspace where I would consider myself back in Resolution, I'm comfortable talking about this. I'm airing out my dirty laundry quite a bit in this post, but the reason I'm making this post is because of the fact I don't see many late stage recovery systems talk about relapsing back into dissociation and other CDD symptoms. I'm here to say it's totally okay and a part of healing. I don't know who needs to hear that, but I definitely did. I didn't hear it until i was in therapy.

A couple of months ago [when I was initially writing this post], I went through a series of traumatic events, including little over 3 weeks of reoccurring flashbacks due to a re-traumatizing situation. I have lovingly dubbed it 'the three weeks of hell'. There was more than just that, including 2 explosive breakdowns, where I just couldn't handle all the input I was getting with what all was going on. I was a whole wreck for a moment there, that's for sure. THANKFULLY, we only split off a one new alter after everything, which is healing progress, but it meant an increase in blackout amnesia in our day to day life, let alone the dissociation it was causing the system as a whole, nearly putting us back at step one of recovery.

The moment I noticed the blackout amnesia and increase in DID symptoms, I started thinking I had ruined any progress I could've possibly made. It felt like I had taken ten steps forward and then tumbled down the stairs. I never got to process the trauma as it just began to pile on, and eventually I popped in probably the worst explosive breakdown I've EVER had- my fight or flight kicked in and for gods know what reason, my brain chose fight. But that breakdown had solidified that 'fuck, I'm getting worse again' mentality I had going on. Everyone I knew seemed to 'keep it together' during rough times, so why couldn't I?

So that brought me to this post.

I wondered why I don't see talk of relapse in Late Stage Recovery spaces, let alone general CDD spaces. I figure, in my mind, that it's because it just isn't talked about. At least, not frequently. In the space I have curated for myself, I see a lot of fellow late stage recovery systems and finally fused systems, but everyone seems to not have relapsed at any point. Granted, this is the internet, and people show what they want others to see, but I felt ashamed for a good while that I had relapsed back into the amnesiac aspects of my dissociation. I didn't feel like I could call the stage of healing I am in 'late stage recovery'. But that's just. not true. I still am. My healing is ongoing, and I was able to resolve it.

In recovery for many disorders, relapses are, inherently, a part of the process of healing. Symptoms resurfacing is, to some extent, part of healing. Everyone is bound to have slip ups and rough times, and if your go to coping mechanism is dissociation [in CDDs cases], it's possible that you might slip back into those maladaptive mechanisms due to the stress of life happenings, but that's okay. What is needed is to learn the proper coping skills to deal with that stress, but it can be extremely hard to unlearn maladaptive coping skills and make turning towards healthy ones a default. Relapsing gives you the time to reinforce and build up what skills you do have.

When the three weeks of hell was occurring, I didn't exactly have the coping skills necessary to keep on with life, and any I did have, they were not 'automatic' enough. On top of that, my therapist was conveniently out of office for those three weeks. It did give me the time to make my skills stronger. Of course, I felt terrible about it but Relapsing is okay. As long as you learn how to deal with the stress and trauma, that's what matters. I'm still learning how to properly cope with everything that happened during those weeks, to be blunt, but I have gained a grasp on Resolution pretty quickly afterwards. I don't think it would've been possible to recover so easily had I not been in late stage recovery, and like I said before, it helped reinforce my coping skill box, making them stronger and much easier to recall. I definitely would say that relapsing was a part of my healing. Didn't feel good, but it became a huge factor in how we cope day to day.

TLDR; Relapsing during Resolution [Functional Multiplicity/Final fusion] is a part of recovery itself.

[murdermepeacefully]

Brahms Heelshire Headcanons

Honestly I'm not sure why it took me so long to do Brahms, given I've been writing him since mid 2022. But I've been really vibing Slasher Headcanon posts lately, and today, it's his turn! [Updated: 12/2/24]

As always, these are of course my own personal opinion, but feel free to reblog, add onto them, ask questions about them, or add them to the ones you accept yourself! I absolutely love hearing from others on their thoughts.

.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.

Headcanons from the Movie:

The Greta doll [Or the Nanny doll, for fics or content where the nanny is an OC or the reader] was never intended as anything dark/kinky/etc. It was simply Brahms mirroring how he'd seen affection shown towards him. I went into this in more detail on this post, if you're interested.

While he doesn't have the ability/time to do things like take care of his hair or shave, he does shower when the nanny is outside doing the rat traps.

When he can risk it, he'll sneak his clothes in with the laundry, but that became more difficult once his parents left. He's sometimes able to manage it by putting a few things in with sheets/blankets, but more often than not he'll simply use the clothes his dad left behind when he needs something clean to wear.

Def a clingy boy. Likes being able to have some form of physical contact with his partner, or at least be able to see/hear them if he can't do that.

Sometimes doesn't understand things that one would expect an adult to know, simply because his parents didn't teach him. The best way to address moments like this is to correct any mistakes gently, and teach him what he needs to know. [This does not mean to treat him like a child, just be patient and don't use a judgmental tone.

Occasionally has trouble processing emotions, especially negative ones, due to his father having a 'men don't cry' mindset.

Headcanons from Fanfic or Fandom Interactions:

Once he's ready to do so, he's okay with being seen without his mask. Respecting the boundary of letting him decide when that happens is a great way to show you care/trust/love him.

Definitely nervous about leaving the property, but he can manage if he's not alone at first. Once he's been out with someone he trusts enough to adjust to things like the crowds, levels of noise, and the environments, he's ok with splitting up for short periods of time.

When he goes out, he wears a cloth mask to cover the lower half of his face, so that the scarring will draw less attention.

Random Headcanons:

He's 100% the big spoon, regardless of a partner's size. While he does enjoy being held, he prefers to do so when he's holding his partner at the same time.

Really loves having his hair played with, especially if combined with kisses or cuddles.

Dog person [Cats are too aloof, and he enjoys the energy dogs can have. They're also a good way to get him going outside in the fresh air again]

Likes to slow dance with partners at times, because it reminds him of sneaking down the stairs and seeing his parents slow dancing together.

18+ Headcanons🌶️🔞:

Spicy Headcanons:

This man does not know his own strength, so do not be surprised at all if you have bruises in the shape of his hands.

Definitely a switch, because he can enjoy both being the one in control and the one being controlled.

loves seeing his partner climax, but prefers it to be from him doing it than them doing so.

He likes to restrain with consent, because it means that there's no escape.

100% respects safe words however, and generally uses the traffic light system of red means stop, yellow means slow down/pause, and green means good to keep going.

A bit into somnophilia [sex with someone asleep]

Does not like NonCon RPs or scenarios, even in a consensual noncon scenario. He prefers his partner to be very clearly, enthusiastically, consenting.

Age Regression Headcanons: NOTE: I am not intending to say that age regression on it's own is spicy or kink. However, I feel it best to keep it under the 18+ cut to be safe.

One of his favorite modern children's shows is Bluey. This is partially due to the characters being dogs, partially because of the parenting dynamics shown, and partially because there are heavier/more adult topics addressed in a way that's easy to process/understand.

Sometimes will relate to characters deeply, and can use that to communicate a bit more easily. [A main example is Bingo in Dance Mode]

To add onto the above, if a nanny/partner sees him upset and prompts 'Checklist', he will recite off Chilli's checklist from the episode The Show, while allowing himself to do the items on it. It started as a way to help him address his emotions in a healthy way, but soon became something that helps both him and his nanny/partner, as he can do the same thing with them.

The checklist is as follows: ✓ Have a Cry ✓ Pick Myself Off ✓ Dust Myself Off ✓And keep going.

Likes doing coloring pages or other simple crafts, and will often proudly present his partner with the end result.

Loves it when they put it on the fridge where it can be on display.

Eventually turns his childhood room into a 'Littlespace' room for him to go to whenever he like. This means painting the walls a soft, comforting color, putting soft rugs on the floor, adding prism window clings to the window to cast rainbows all about the room, a permanent pillow fort, and a TV with a DVD player and VHS player on a wheeled table that can be moved anywhere in the room, with a bookshelf full of movies from their childhood, as well as more modern ones.

One of his favorites is Quest For Camelot.

[hearthhuntescasty]

Depression, new adult rant. Mentions of suicidal ideation are sprinkled throughout the paragraphs, paragraph of SH will have a warning before it and is completely skippable.

I've now been a proper adult for a few months now. An apartment with my partner and our puppy. An 8-3 job 5 days a week and paychecks. A functioning morning routine. Antidepressants. A health hazard kitchen, laundry everywhere, and I sleep on the couch because I'm always too exhausted to properly handle my room that the dog keeps diarrhea shitting in.

I have ADHD and depression (probably dysthymia?. No diagnoses here. Perhaps one day soon. But I had a therapist in college who specialized in nurodivergence and she was very sure I was ~something~).

Honestly, idk how people do it. I don't know how they can go to work, come home, deal with 109 things, go to bed and still want to wake up in the morning to do it all again. I'm not sure how in the hell they have energy to do all this shit. How do you feed yourself and others 3 times a day, clean up, do hygiene, go to work, and not become exhausted? I just upped my antidepressants, and I felt better for a while but I think my depression became worse. I don't get how so many people are content living their lives like this. Do they feel content? They ALL don't certainly want to kill themselves. Do they feel rewarded after a hard day's labor?

I have a very rewarding, people focused job. I help children. I watch them grow in ways they might've not have because many people would've given up or coddled them, at least historically. I love my job, or at least, I think I do. I'm too busy being exhausted, and feeling just about nothing and trying to meet my needs and do my job properly at work. I forget everything, and there's so much going on all the time, and so many judgement calls, and I don't want to get in trouble (corrected for mistakes). It's like I just don't get it sometimes. I need to be confident too, which I'm good at, if I don't feel like I'm about to get in trouble, which I'm always a little haunted by because I take my mistakes to heart more than I ought to, I can't stop thinking about my mistakes the day I make them.

I just, I feel nothing. And it seems like nothing fixes it. Will I ever feel better? It's unbearably miserable and empty. I love fall, I get beautiful views this time of year. I try to appreciate the leaves, it's like they never really reach me. I used to feel joy and appreciation, I used to feel like I was seeing this beautiful catching moment. Now I only feel the dullest amount of enjoyment from them, not enough to embrace joy. I try to think of the thoughts I used to have but, it's all faded mumblings that mean nothing to me. it's made me feel like the fall, the summer, the seasons just pass me by and I missed them. I've missed them for years. I black out most of my summers, even when they were likely kinda pleasant. I do remember this summer, but only cause so many Firsts happened.

The following paragraph goes into details about SH. Skip to the next paragraph if that's too much.

I got back into self harm, not that anyone other than the internet knows now. I don't want the attention. Sometimes a little just makes me feel like all that misery can just pour out of me at once and Its enough to be able to suck it up and go on with my day, there's no overwhelming of emotion there's no thought of it afterwards except checking the marks and feeling their burn a bit. Its practically nothing. I don't cut real hard, bleeding, maybe a raised red line. Not even enough to be noticable, nothing that can't be explained away.

Since I was a tween I just wanted to have a job that I enjoyed, and my own place and live a really simple, normal, but happy life. A modest one by most "when I grow up" desires. I was just so sure I would be happy. I tried so hard, I'm trying so hard. And I'm still not happy. I was so sure once I figured things out I'd be happy. My life should be pleasent, tolerable. If it was purely up to my optimistic cheery predisposition and hard work and the fortune I have, I should be content with my life at the minimum. I should be happy, I hope. But it's really not. It's just the chemicals in my brain. I'm so burnt out over the littlest things. Things that are little to neurotypicals, but I gotta build up for. I'm not sure I want to keep on living, I surely don't want to keep on living like this but what choice do I have? I always wanted to open my own tea house, and even if that say brought me the contentment with life I'm searching for, I have to hold out and then work triple time. And I probably will be burnout, or simply the repetitive nature of it will keep be stuck in the same limbo I am now. I just need to keep holding out. Maybe soon my depression will ease off and I'll feel more put together again soon. I will say, my depression/burnout isn't as bad as it has been historically before meds, I used to hurt miles more than I do rn in these moments. I used to feel like I was going insane and I just wanted to be insane to make it go away. I still feel a bit like that ngl but I don't feel insane. I feel rather sane and adult, things need to be and I'll push to get them there and then I will be fine. But God I can't see any point in living my life rn other than to support my partner.

There's really never not enough time. It just keeps rolling and I can't catch up on weekends rn.

Here's some songs that I just keep looping cause they hit.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Pieces of us

I'm still suffering over beefleaf if yall were curious.

Inspired by NF-Wait

"If you've come here to laugh at my misfortune, feel free to do so, I'll laugh with you!" Shi Qingxuan says cheerfully as he sinks a load of laundry into the cold water of a patchy wooden basin, the off-white robes looking nothing like the kind he used to wear not too long ago. They appear simple and modest, more likely hand-me-downs from the people living in those slums - had the Shi Qingxuan of the past been forced to wear them, he would have wept at the mere sight.

But it seems as though he's grown accustomed to his new lifestyle. He's sat atop the one step in front of his shoddy house, the basin between his legs as he works, and had He Xuan not known anything about him, he would have never guessed this to have been the former Wind Master.

But then again, had anybody looked at him as well, donning black robes and a blank expression, they probably would not have guessed him to be Black Water Sinking Ships either.

Appearances are deceiving.

"I have not come to laugh at you." He Xuan finds his voice at last, monotone and inexpressive. He does not elaborate on the reason that he has come, though, largely because he does not have one.

At least, not one he is able and willing to admit out loud.

"Then what brings the great Black Water Demon Xuan here?" Shi Qingxuan asks just as cheerfully, standing up to shake water off the robes he had been washing.

He Xuan does not respond. Shi Qingxuan does not seem to mind him standing by the little gate to his cottage, so he lets the silence stretch for longer.

When Shi Qingxuan limps to hang the robes on the clothesline, He Xuan looks away with something dangerously close to shame in his eyes.

"You've been...well?" He Xuan asks and berates himself mentally immediately after. What kind of question is that? A life on the dregs of society, disabled and void of spiritual energy could in no way be good, try as one might. He feels ridiculous for having asked, for even being here in the first place.

He wants to leave and yet his feet won't move.

"I've seen better days." Shi Qingxuan laughs, but in the crystalline sounds the hint of regret is damning, "But life goes on."

Does it? He Xuan wants to ask but he doesn't find it in himself to.

"I do miss being able to shift into a female form, though." Shi Qingxuan continues, "I'd always been more comfortable that way, but it's not like there's spiritual energy laying around to be used."

He Xuan looks away again, trying to find something to think about other than...what happened. But the more he stares at the impoverished landscape bordering the grandiose capital, the more he feels an almost-guilt, almost-regret.

And almost-yearning.

Shi Qingxuan limps to hang up a surprisingly pristine bedsheet in the sun to dry. He Xuan must admit that, despite the decrepitude of Shi Qingxuan's current abode, everything appears as orderly and clean as possibly can, giving the house an air of nobility even in such a desolate place.

"Either way," Shi Qingxuan says, "If you're here just for a visit, I'm sorry to say that this host is rather modest, I've only some cheap wine and stew leftovers to treat you with."

"No need. I will not stay for a meal."

A look of surprise (almost concern) passes Shi Qingxuan's features. "No? How come?"

"I am not...hungry."

"Since when are you not hungry?" Shi Qingxuan laughs, "Are you ill? You used to always be munching on something wherever we hung out! Looking back, I should've definitely seen the signs!"

The humorous tone of the other settles into He Xuan's heart like a thousand swords, so striking that he flinches imperceptibly as he hears them.

Spending time with Shi Qingxuan feels like a thing of a bygone past, a memory from lifetimes away - almost as if it had not been He Xuan there by the Wind Master's side, entirely dissassociated.

He will never be able to call any of those memories his own - they did not belong to him, He Xuan, but to Ming Yi, a mask, a fraud - but he does revisit them sometimes.

(Which is why he has locked up Shi Wudu's head in a small corner of his cellar instead of placing it in the main hall of his palace as he'd initially intended - the satisfaction of revenge always seemed to be overshadowed by Shi Qingxuan's screams ringing in his ears, haunting him like a wrathful ghost that could never be apprehended).

Shi Qingxuan drags his broken foot through the dirt, limp as the arm that hangs at his side, immobile. The small yard is surprisingly well-maintained, but the earth is nevertheless rocky, and Shi Qingxuan trips onto a small, sharp stone, a yelp leaving his lips.

He Xuan moves before he knows it and catches Shi Qingxuan right as he was about to hit the ground.

It feels both foreign and familiar to find himself holding the other in his arms, like revisiting your home town after a century only to realize everything has changed and not even the people you knew are there anymore.

He Xuan locks eyes with Shi Qingxuan, though, and he knows he's still there, the one that He Xuan knows, the one that He Xuan...

Shi Qingxuan rights himself and smiles sheepishly as he disentangles himself from He Xuan's embrace. "Sorry about that, it seems that god or mortal, I am inevitably clumsy. I really need to ask for help to get rid of all of these stones one of these days, I keep tripping-"

"Qingxuan."

He Xuan's voice is level and firm, almost like a warning but in reality, a plea.

Shi Qingxuan understands and shuts up, looking towards He Xuan with an unreadable expression, a mix of emotions in his eyes. He had been trying to act casual, but the slight tremble in his fingers had given him away easily. Whether the tremors were from fear or anger, it was hard to say.

"The past is the past." Shi Qingxuan begins, tone unusually level. "It cannot be changed or altered. One must accept the hand that has been dealt to them... sooner or later." He sighs, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "This is how it was always meant to be."

He Xuan looks at the former Wind Master, at the beauty and refinement of his features, at the broken limbs, at his modest livelihood, at the way that, despite it all, he persists.

The sky turns dark and droplets fall from the sky, slowly then all at once. Shi Qingxuan curses at the heavens as he struggles to save his freshly washed laundry.

A pair of deft hands and quick feet join him silently.

The pitter patter of the rain fills the silence as they take shelter in the small hut.

On a small table, the Windmaster fan rests like a centerpiece. Dust has gathered on the fine handle.

[zephfair]

Hello? Anyone still here?

Hey, who disappeared for months and has desperately missed all her little friends who live on this hell-site but has been too exhausted and overwhelmed to actually login ... and who lost track of where this sentence was going ... Yeah, this girl.🤗

But, wow, have I missed you all and all the beauty that is Tumblr, and I hope you'll forgive me for secreting myself away since--holy cow--January.

Quick life update behind the cut.

So, I knew going back to work full-time at my age after quite a long unintended break AND now having health disabilities, well, I knew it would be hard. I knew I would have to adjust my whole, entire life. I expected it to be incredibly difficult, and I fully planned to give myself some grace and time in having to change my every routine.

But somehow, I still underestimated it.

I am so thankful to have a job now, with a steady (if small) income and benefits that frankly make me want to weep with thanks. I mean, I don't have time to go to the doctor, but at least now I could afford to go, if I could get there.

But wow, work is tough. Not just the literal work but, as I said, changing my entire life around it. I'm not complaining, but I am doing my best to learn all new skills (job is not in my old field), relearn how to work and reschedule my own needs and just upend everything.

The absolute worst thing has been trying to take care of my aunt. I was to leave town on Jan. 7 to start my training on Jan. 8.

My 90-year-old aunt fell and broke her pelvis (and a finger and needed some stitches) Jan. 2. I spent every waking hour with her over the rest of that week. While I'd planned to spend that week cleaning my house, getting my business in order and just resting, I was freaking out and traveling through the snow and literally worried sick about her.

It was bad.

And I couldn't stay with her like I did when she broke her hip because I had to attend training full-time. At least they let us come home super-early from that first on-site week of training, but that led to a literal nightmare of a drive home one night through snow, ice, rain, flooding and fog that I'm not joking I've had nightmares about before and now since. Long story.

So, I spent January and February training and working 9 hours a day then spending all day Saturday at her place cleaning and doing laundry and making sure she had everything she needed for a week, and then I had Sunday to do my own laundry and clean the house and take care of my own things...which just keep getting pushed back because I'm too worn out.

Thank God, Aunt made a miraculous recovery and now is doing her own house and laundry etc. but I still go out one day a weekend and do anything else she needs and make sure she has all her groceries and supplies and stuff.

We're all each other has.

Needless to say, I haven't been taking care of myself. I don't sleep well anyway, but add the stress of the new job and my dear aunt and my own health issues, and I'm exhausted. Weary. Overwhelmed and just so very tired. My body is so heavy, I can barely move anymore. It's bad.

And when I finally got to my doctor two weeks ago for my long-delayed check-up, found out I was right about my blood pressure being sky-high again. It went high for the first time several years ago when my Mom was dying, but it eventually settled and was fine. But yeah, it's bad again now. No shock there. And all my lovely chronic health conditions have flared which was no surprise--again, I had braced myself to expect it and power through it, and that's what I'm doing. But it sucks. And it's hard. And there's so much pain.

I don't want to say much about my job, but the over-arching Praise the Lord wonderful thing about it is working from home. There have been so many days already that I never would've been able to get to an office to work, but I can push through it here because I don't have to use any spoons to get myself "ready" (sweatshirts and leggings, no personal grooming necessary, yay), and I don't have any anxiety about driving because zero commute. It has its challenges too because Teams is a weird office communication alternative to get used to, but on the good side, I don't have to deal with interpersonal drama from co-workers.

The work itself is challenging, but I have some days where I finally feel quietly competent and think, Oh, I can actually do this. And then there are some days that leave me in tears and praying for help because it's just too hard. But there's no way I'm quitting; they're going to have to fire me because did I mention the benefits are incredible? I mean, I live in the US and if you knew how much I had to pay last year for my own health insurance, and then the scope and biopsies and then the skin cancer and surgery and then the other skin pre-cancer biopsy and treatment. Yeah, I'm still in big debt from all of that.

So I keep praying that they keep me and that I'll do a good job. And my immediate supervisor has started piling extra work on me over the past 3 weeks so suddenly I'm doing my own stuff AND cleaning up the work from co-workers who aren't keeping up. And all of them have been working since October while just a handful of us began in January?

I have been complaining about this to my aunt, and I thought it meant that my supervisor thinks I'm incapable or is punishing me for trying to get through own my entire workload every single day. But she believes he's giving me all their shit work because I'll actually do it, and I admit, I have gotten some of it completed successfully after they'd given up on it. So, I don't know.

I know that I'm a perfectionist and I've always pushed myself as hard as possible to do my best at work (not at housework and other things in my life lols) but I really hope that it gets me a good reputation at this job and they keep me.

So yeah, that's what's going on here. I've completely abandoned the fandom things in life that I actually enjoy. I almost feel, like, guilty when I'd think about trying to make some time to browse Tumblr or wasting time on social media or even trying to write fic. I get done with work at 6:30 pm, and until I get something to eat and then clean up, it's 8 or 8:30. I have to spend about an hour on the phone with Aunt (and I call her every morning, break, and lunch time too). By then, I can barely walk or move so I just try to make it upstairs to bed. Even though I can't sleep, it just feels nice to lie down.

But I miss all of you. And I miss fandom fun. And I want to be around more because maybe it would recharge me rather than me feeling so freaking overwhelmed every minute of the day.

And I promise not to complain and bitch all the time, now that I've gotten it out of my system. But thanks for listening.

I do miss you, and I love you all.

PLEASE let me know if I've missed anything important in your lives and goings on here! I've got A LOT of catching up to do!

[pbandjesse]

Today is labor day! And it feels thematically appropriate to finally. Finally. Tell Tumblr the secret I have been holding from the Internet for a month. I am 11 weeks pregnant! And today we finally got to tell my family. So I can also finally tell all of you. It has been incredibly hard to write my posts since July 31st when I first found out. And there are other versions of my posts I had written. So I will have to go back and edit those back. It wasn't all of the days but there is a good handful from the beginning of August!! It has been so hard to not say anything! It's why I've been so sick!

I was so nervous to tell my parents. How would they react?? Would i get the emotional excitement I hoped for?? It's basically all I wanted to talk about yesterday. And thankfully when I got home last night I was able to shower and settle and I was able to sleep pretty well, despite the nerves.

I had brought two flower arrangements home from the wedding. One for me and one for my parents. I was smart and dumped the water from the vases but would fill them up for the overnight. And in the morning they still looked great.

I woke up at 8. With the plan for us to leave at 830. James was making crepes and they looked so cute in their Uganda soccer kit. And I really love my denim dress. I felt good. I was nervous but I didn't feel sick. And I really hoped I could keep that going. Ride that wave as long as I could.

Right before we left I noticed one of my frogs was dead. Covered in snails. And I was so sad. So I think I have no frogs anymore. And it just bums me out so bad. I am just going to have to completely start my tank over. I can't get the snails to stop. It's ruined my tanks environment and it just sucks so bad. James would handle getting my baby frog out and buried. I was just really sad. But I tried to not let it ruin my day. We had a big thing to do.

I went out to the car to move stuff around so there would be room for us to bring our laundry with us to my parents. And soon we were on the road.

I brought a pillow and that made me more comfortable. I never fell asleep but I enjoyed resting and we listened to a podcast and it was not a bad drive at all. We wouldn't have to deal with any traffic and we got to my parents at 1030.

We didn't discuss between, me and James, how we were going to tell them. We had packed a little gift bag, with the ultra sound from my last appointment (remember when I went to see that 'specialist'?) and James picked a fig from the tree to bring with us. I packed it like a gift. And when we got to the house we put the flowers and the gift bag in the kitchen table and just didn't mention it. I would have to decide on the right time.

The dogs didn't bark when we came in. It was like they were so excited they were basically honking??? Mom would come out and was very surprised. But I was so happy to see her.

Dad was still getting ready for the day. So I would have to wait.

We would chill in the living room. And talked about life and just catching up. It was hard to redirect the conversation when Mom would talk about me feeling sick, but also when she brought up our planned Scotland trip. The problem being my expected due date is two weeks before the trip. So I was pretty sure we were going to have to reschedule that. Which makes me a little sad but I knew she would understand.

I went to bother Dad and tell him to hurry up and join us. And soon he would. But I wouldn't tell them yet still.

Around 1130 mom asked if we wanted to order pizza. I had had my two crepes in the car but I absolutely wanted pizza now. I love the pizza place near them. So we would order pizza and James got a cheese steak and mom got a quesadilla.

While we waited for the food to be delivered, mom brought up Scotland again. And I decided it was the right time. I honestly wish I got it on video because she had such an amazing reaction. I told James to get the gift bag and mom was like. Why do I get a gift?? And I'm like well it's kind of a thing for both of you.

She brought out the framed ultrasound first. And she literally stopped mid sentence and goes. No??? You're fucking joking?? Jesse??!! You're joking?? And I go right into explaining, this is why I've been sick. And she ran over to me to give me a hug. And dad is like ??? What is happening, Sharon stop cursing!!! And mom hasn't shown him the frame yet and he wasn't getting it. But we finally hand it to him and he gets it and he go no!! Omg!! And they were both so excited. She claims she didn't cry but I saw the teary eyes. She was so excited. Dad was so excited.

Then I explained the fig. And dad goes. Wow. My grandchild, as he holds it up. And then I explain the whole story. When we were on the cruise I was nauseous. Jess's parents kept saying I was pregnant. I didn't want to take a test until August 1st, despite missing two persons. But when I got off the cruise and was still nauseous I spoke to the camp nurse and she convinced me to take a pregnancy test on July 31. And that evening I did and it was immediate. "PREGNANT". And then I told James. And we high fived. And then the next day we told Charlotte because she was leaving for Spain. On August 2nd I made an appointment for an obgyn but I let them know I had been sick but also I was spotting and they said I needed to go to the ER. So I had to tell Alexi and Heather and Elizabeth because I had to leave camp.

And when I got the the er I got fluids and they confirmed the pregnancy but I also got an ultrasound. Based on my last missed period they thought I might be 10 weeks but I was actually more like 6/7. And I got to see it early. It didn't look like much but I got to see it! And I drew a pictuee of it to show James later.

And then in the ten days between the ER and the OB-GYN appointment I lost 10lbs from being sick. And the midwife was so nice and James got to see them and they still didn't look like much but we got to see their heartbeat. And now I have my next appointment tomorrow. And I'm so nervous because anything and everything can go wrong. And I can't see them because my belly isn't see through so I just have to believe they are growing safely. And I really hope we get to see them tomorrow but I don't actually know if we will because I don't know how often you get ultrasounds. I want to see them every time though, only seems fair.

But they were just so excited. And when the door bell rang with our friends it took everything in mon not to just tell the pizza man that her daughter was pregnant. But it was the main point of conversation for the rest of the day.

Lunch was great. I actually ate 4 pieces of pizza! And I would actually feel pretty well through around 230. We would talk about the research and reading we have done to get ready. The book I'm reading. Things we have learned. Mom told us about her experiences and James finished the laundry between topics. It was just so nice. It was so nice to be able to talk about everything. About the scary things. About me accidently ripping my boobie skin off with kinesiology tape. About how I have had all my eggs since I was a baby inside of Mom. So this baby has always been with us, our whole lives. And it makes me just a little emotional to think about.

And like I am still scared. It could not be growing. It could not be growing correctly

It could be missing organs, or a skull. It could be perfect and then die at the end. Or it can be totally fine and I can come home with a new little person. That looks like me and James. The person I love so much.

And I just have to believe that no matter what happens I will be okay, and it will all work out how it's supposed to. Just how I have always believed.

And James got to talk about their excitement too. They are a little more focused on my health. They are just so worried about me being so sick. But they are also such an amazing support. And I love them so much.

I started feeling not amazing. And we had one more stop at Xavier and Kaitlyn's house. So at 3 we would give hugs all around. Mom and me had gone down to the basement and she gave me a nice new basket and a bunch of pencils for camp. And we got all of that in the car. And said goodbye. It was exciting that we got to give them something to be excited about. I love them so very much.

We left there and headed to our friends. They are about 40 minutes from my parents. And it was really nice to see them. They are expecting as well, and she's only a few weeks behind me! How crazy!! We talked about our different experiences. She said her mom was barely sick and that's been her experience so far, while my mom was sick the whole time and that's my experience too. Rough. But I enjoyed hanging out. They brought us a few little Pokemon things from Japan. And we just talked and caught up and spent an hour and a half there. It was fun.

But I was losing steam. So it was time to go. We said goodbye and headed not. See them soon!!

We would stop at Wawa on the way home. We got drinks and snacks. I got a small hoagie. And it did help me feel a little better. But the drive home would be a bit tough on us

Not much traffic, but our cord wasn't charging right. My phone would get down to 2%. And people were driving terrible. James couldn't stop sneezing. And the sun was so strong and directly in our faces. We couldn't block it no matter what we tried. So it was not a super fun trip back. But we were fine. And we would finally get home at 7.

We got everything inside. And I was just like. I gotta go lay down. James would put our clothes away. And we would just enjoy hanging out and doing our own thing in our bedroom. James worked on writing. I watched videos and scrolled. It was calm.

Eventually I took a bath. I have so many blasters on my feet from last night so the I put in the water hurt but I am sure it helped. And now we are in bed. And I am so ready to sleep. There was so much emotionally charged moments today. Like in the best way but man. I am exhausted.

And tomorrow we get to go to the OB-GYN again. This time we get to meet Dr Hoffman. Of Hoffman and associates! Which is the name of the practice. I get to have appointments with all the drs and midwives so we get to know everyone. I think it's smart. But also a little nerve wracking. You never in now what they are going to tell you. I just hope it's all good news you know?

But now it's time to sleep. I hope you all sleep great. I love you all so much. I will start editing the redacted posts and when I finish that (probably Thursday) I will make a post with the dates of the changes posts! If you want to go back and read them.

Goodnight everyone. Have fun tomorrow!!

[randomperson99sworld]

Ruffled Feathers 🪶

~ Part 53 ~

Summary: Julia Morgan, Bobby's niece, has always been a royal thorn in Dean Winchesters ass since the day they met 1 year ago at Bobby's memorial. She wants to be a hunter, he thinks she's a dumb kid playing dress up. Will she always be seen as an unwanted load in Dean's eyes or will he see something more?

Warnings: Age gap, language, sexual themes (used lightly), physical abuse (Not by Dean).

Word Count: 1,010

A/N: This story is almost over! One more chapter left before the bonus chapters! :) stated as always, this story is cross posted on Wattpad. Happy reading! ♥️

The next few days were much of the same—quiet moments filled with unspoken emotions. Dean kept himself busy doing odd jobs around the house, cooking meals, fixing things that didn't really need fixing. Anything to distract himself from the helplessness he felt watching Julia drift through the days like a ghost.

She was trying, he could tell. She'd make small efforts here and there—like joining him for breakfast or helping him fold laundry. But there was a weight to everything she did, like she was moving through quicksand. The spark that used to define her was gone, and Dean couldn't shake the feeling that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pull her out of this dark place.

One afternoon, a week and a half after she came back, Dean sat at the kitchen table, drinking his coffee and reading through a book of lore. He hadn't been able to focus on hunting lately. The visions of Julia's death haunted him, making him hyper-aware of every second that passed. What if it happened again? What if next time, he couldn't stop it?

He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Julia walk into the kitchen until she spoke.

"Dean?" Her voice was soft, uncertain, like she wasn't sure if she should even be speaking.

Dean snapped his head up, surprised to see her standing there. She was still in her pajamas, her hair a mess, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something more than the blank stare she'd had for days.

"Hey," he said, trying to keep his voice light. "What's up?"

Julia hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "I... I think I need to get out of here."

Dean blinked, unsure of what she meant. "Out of here, like... the house?"

She nodded, glancing out the window. "I've been cooped up too long. I need air, space. Maybe a drive."

Dean set his coffee cup down, watching her carefully. "You sure? I don't want you pushing yourself if you're not ready."

"I know," she replied, her voice wavering slightly. "But I need to try. I can't keep... I can't keep sitting here, feeling like this."

Dean studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. We'll go for a drive."

They didn't say much as they got into the car. Dean started the engine, the familiar rumble of the Impala filling the silence between them. Julia stared out the window, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the dashboard. Dean couldn't help but steal glances at her, worried but hopeful that this was a step forward.

He wasn't sure where they were going, just drove aimlessly through the winding roads outside of town, letting the open sky and the hum of the engine fill the quiet. They passed fields and forests, the world slipping by in a blur of green and gold. It felt peaceful, almost normal, like things could be okay again.

After a while, Julia finally spoke.

"You ever think about... just stopping?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above the sound of the engine.

Dean frowned, glancing over at her. "Stopping what?"

"Hunting. All of it. Just... leaving it behind."

Dean's grip tightened on the steering wheel. He'd thought about it before—more times than he could count—but the idea never stuck. "Yeah, I've thought about it. But the thing is... it doesn't let go of you. Even if you walk away, the monsters are still out there. And if we're not hunting them... who is?"

Julia nodded slowly, her eyes still on the horizon. "I don't know if I can keep doing it."

Dean's heart sank. He knew this had been coming, that after everything she'd been through, she might not want to go back to the life. He couldn't blame her—hell, he wasn't even sure how he'd held on for so long. But hearing her say it out loud made it real.

"You don't have to," he said, his voice low but steady. "You've been through enough, Julia. No one's asking you to keep doing this if you don't want to."

She was quiet for a long time, the tension between them thick, before she finally spoke again. "But what if I walk away, and something happens to you?"

Dean's heart clenched. He'd never realized just how much that thought had been weighing on her. "I'll be fine," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "You don't have to worry about me."

But Julia shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "I do worry. I can't just sit by and let you go out there and risk your life while I'm... safe. I can't do it, Dean."

Dean pulled the car to the side of the road, putting it in park as he turned to face her. "Julia..."

"I've already lost you once," she whispered, her voice breaking. "And now... now that I'm back, I can't lose you again. But I don't know how to keep going. I don't know how to keep doing this."

Dean reached out, taking her hand in his, squeezing it gently. "We'll figure it out. Together. You don't have to make any decisions right now. We'll take it one day at a time, okay?"

Julia nodded, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. "I just... I don't know how to keep going."

Dean sighed, pulling her into his arms, holding her close. "You're not alone in this. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

She buried her face in his shoulder, her body trembling as she let out a quiet sob. Dean held her tighter, wishing he could take her pain away, wishing he could fix everything. But all he could do was be there, and he wasn't going to let go.

They stayed like that for a while, parked on the side of a quiet road, holding each other in the fading light of the afternoon, both of them trying to figure out how to keep going in a world that felt so broken.

[urrone]

wip amnesty - jordan eberle/taylor hall

Full disclosure, I think I've posted this before, but I'm officially posting it again just to get it off my chest and out of my active fics folder. It's never getting finished. At the end I will include my notes for how I would have ended it if I had the willpower to do so. I created this document in the year of our eldritch horror TWO THOUSAND THIRTEEN so that's how long it's been muddling through existence.

--

the new normal

It’s not that Taylor hasn’t heard of Oklahoma before, of course he has, though he doubts he could have ever picked it out on a map of the US. He’s just never, like, had to physically acknowledge its existence with his own presence, and it’s weird. 

“Is it as flat as you thought?” Jeff, the intern the team sent to pick him up at the airport, carefully keeps his hands at 10 and 2 on the wheel. Bringing his truck down from home hadn’t made sense given he’s sure he won’t be here long, but Taylor misses driving already. 

“I didn’t really think about it,” he says, and that’s definitely true. Foreign places always resemble a slightly different Canada in his mind until he sees them. And it’s not like anywhere in the US is really that different, not like going overseas. 

And honestly, it does kind of remind him of Edmonton, only with fewer trees. 

Jeff laughs when he says it out loud, and starts pointing out landmarks on the way to the apartment Taylor will share with Jordan. He’s never lost this much playing time before, and he isn’t sure if it’s that or seeing Jordan for the first time since April that has him wiping sweat off his palms every five minutes. 

Taylor lets Jeff’s inane chatter ease him all the way to his new front door, on the second floor of a low rise apartment building that Jeff assures him is only a five-to-ten-minute bike ride from the arena. “It doesn’t look like a lot, but there’s some good stuff in Midtown,” Jeff says, gesturing vaguely to the road behind them. 

Taylor doesn’t know how to respond to this but it doesn’t really matter because Jeff’s already gone.

--

“Are you telling me you actually brought your dirty laundry from Canada to wash down here?” Jordan says, looking at the pile of clothes in front of the washer. “You moved down here just so I'd do your laundry again, didn't you?”

Taylor laughs and chucks the socks he'd been wearing on top of the pile. It’s almost a relief to just fall back into chirping each other like they always used to. It helps him talk through the fluttery bits in his stomach. “Yep, it had absolutely nothing to do with finally being able to play again. I got tired of washing my own socks.”

Jordan picks one of the socks up and flicks it back at Taylor's face. “It doesn’t look like you’ve washed a sock since last season.” 

Taylor bats it away, laughing around the new tight feeling that’s taken up residence in his chest. He'd really missed just being in the same room with Jordan, sitting on their mutually owned couch playing xbox, buying groceries they’d forget to eat, watching Jordan sort their dirty laundry.

“Why aren't you holding up your end then?” Jordan asks. He's given up bitching and started dumping the pile of clothes into the washer. “When's the last time you went grocery shopping?”

“Chill out, I just got here.”

“We can't eat at Earl's every day, dude.”

It's weird that he can eat at a place called Earl's in two different countries. Did they run out of restaurant names? The one down here doesn't have the variety of Edmonton’s, but their brisket is delicious, and Taylor doesn't see why they can't eat it every day if they want to. He says as much.

“The nutritionist might object.”

Fair point to Jordan. “Do you think Tubes would let me borrow his car?”

Jordan snorts. “No.”

Taylor flops down on the couch. “Well do you think he'd give me a ride to the grocery store?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether or not he's already going to the store.” Jordan flops down next to him, and it's not their awesome giant wrap around couch that Jordan’s mom bought them when they moved in, so next to him is kind of on top of him given the way that Taylor's sprawled, but Taylor doesn't mind. He likes Jordan's warm weight against him, even though it's kind of hot in their apartment, despite the air conditioning. It's weird that it's 30C in late October anywhere in the world.

“If we had Vespas we could go to the store.”

“How is grocery shopping with a Vespa different than grocery shopping with your bike?”

Taylor tries to shrug but his shoulders are stuck to the leather. “I'd get there faster?”

“Do you even know what a Vespa is?” Jordan nudges Taylor with his foot. “You still wouldn't have anywhere to put the groceries.”

Taylor doesn’t want to admit that no, he still doesn’t know. “I wouldn't get much. It's not like you're going to cook it.”

“Can't fit a lot of coconut water on a Vespa.”

“I could fit enough.” He nudges Jordan back with his knee, since his feet are currently trapped under Jordan's calves.

“Hey, Cheds.” Sometimes Taylor regrets ever telling Jordan about that nickname, but sometimes he likes that Jordan is the only one to use it anymore.

“What?”

Jordan won't make eye contact with him for a minute, which is weird because it's Jordan and Jordan has never been uncomfortable around Taylor, not even when they first met. “I just. I really missed you.”

It's weird to say his heart flips in his chest, because hearts don't actually do that, really, but Taylor might finally know what people mean when they say that, like this sick warm weird feeling right there behind his sternum. It's awesome and terrifying and he doesn’t know what to do with it. 

He waits until it passes and pats Jordan's shoulder, because Jordan's still looking weird. Which, granted, they hardly ever talk about their feelings for things other than food or hockey, but still. “I missed you too, you non.”

Jordan doesn't even smile at that, and Taylor suddenly feels like they're having two different conversations. “No,” Jordan says. “I mean. I missed. Jesus, Taylor, it was like <i>six months</i>.”

“No it wasn't, I was back in Edmonton that whole time. I mean, except for the surgery.”

“Not on the ice.”

“Well no, but—”

“Not over the summer.”

“We never spend the summer together.”

Jordan's looking at him now, but it's with the distinct impression that says Taylor's missing something big, and fuck if Taylor knows what it is. He kind of does though, because even when he'd been out with his ankle his rookie year, they'd still been around, and it hadn't been some planned thing like his shoulder where they knew it'd go through next season. 

The shoulder thing had kind of scared him, and he guesses it must have scared Jordan a bit too. He puts his hand on Jordan's shoulder again, but leaves it there and holds on. “I get it,” he says, even though Jordan's still looking at him like he really doesn't. “I really did miss you too. And playing with you. And winning with you.”

Jordan looks kind of okay with that, and he reaches up to pat Taylor's hand.

“You want to hug it out?” Taylor asks.

Jordan laughs at that and smacks his hand away and things feel normal again, but a different kind of normal. “Fuck you, turn on the TV.”

If this is going to be their new normal, Taylor could be okay with that. 

–

Practice is weird and it isn’t just because he hasn’t actually had a team practice since last season.  Jordan and Ryan have been down for a month already, since before the home opener, and Taylor hates feeling a step behind. He knows some of the guys from training camp last year, but Schultz is new and Ryan follows him around like a duckling. 

He’s also missed out on several months worth of inside jokes, which he hates almost more than feeling winded after sprints. During practice Justin hip checks Jordan and they both say “sauce” and crack up laughing. Taylor doesn’t feel bad at all when they both land on their asses and get yelled at. 

Tubes laughs at Taylor when he mentions the grocery store, but Hamilton takes pity on him. (Taylor hadn't really planned this well and asked in the locker room. If anyone chirps him about it, he's totally throwing Jordan under the bus about the laundry. Cereal is way better than socks.)

“We can go after practice,” Hammy says. “I've gotta go anyway.”

They end up driving way further north than Taylor's been before, he hasn't really made it past 23rd St on his bike, and stopped there because there wasn’t a bike lane. He figures if it isn't in the confines of downtown, he doesn't really need it.

“But you do,” Hammy says. “Because they don't have a Whole Foods down there.” He then spends about fifteen minutes bitching about the grocery store situation in Oklahoma, because apparently the liquor laws in the States are different than Canada, and for some reason that means no good grocery stores exist in this state. “It's a big fucking mess,” Hammy finishes, just as he parks. He catches Taylor giving him whatever look must have been on his face, because really, <i>grocery stores</i>. “What?” Hammy asks.

“I had no idea someone could have so many feelings about grocery stores.”

Hammy just pushes him into a parked car, and they both run when the alarm starts blaring.

–

“Did you know it's not even called KD down here?” Taylor asks, neatly arranging the offensively labeled blue boxes in the cupboard.

“I did, actually,” Jordan says, not even looking up from the TV.

“You could have warned me.”

“I'm sorry, was it a shock to your delicate nature?”

Taylor lobs one of the wet sponges on the sink at Jordan's head, and fuck yeah he's got excellent hand-eye coordination, it hits Jordan right in the ear. Jordan yelps and comes at him, and Taylor barely gets out “I'm sorry, was it a shock to your delicate ear?” before Jordan has him pinned on the kitchen floor, laughing into the tile. 

Taylor gets his hands under him and shoves up. He's got height and weight on Jordan, which has always made wrestling pathetically unmatched, especially when Jordan forgets to do shit like pin his hands. He gets Jordan wedged into the corner between the cabinets and the floor, and even with Jordan squirming and kicking his truly massive thighs around, he can't dislodge Taylor. Taylor is the fucking master of pinning people.

“Say it,” he says. It's unfortunately a little muffled because he's got Jordan's shoulder pinned with his head, and his mouth is full of Jordan' shirt. Still, it's a familiar enough routine by now, and Jordan's face is free and clear.

“No.”

Taylor presses down harder, his feet hooked over Jordan's legs and their arms tangled. It'd be horrible form if either of them had ever actually officially wrestled in any kind of formal manner, but there aren't any rules here. They're touching knee to head and it’s apparently part of the new normal that Taylor notices this time. Notices exactly how they line up, how Jordan's thigh flexes between his, how Jordan's breath pants across Taylor's forehead as he struggles. He doesn't know why he's never thought about this before, how good everything feels. He's missed it. They've had to be too careful about Taylor's shoulder for so long.

“Say it,” he says again, and hopes his voice doesn't sound as wrecked as he feels.

“You're better than me!”

“At what.”

Jordan sags against the floor and Taylor finds himself resisting absolutely nothing, and then they're just two guys, cuddling on the kitchen floor. “At literally everything,” Jordan says.

Taylor lifts his head. “That escalated quickly.”

“Fuck you, don't quote <i>Anchorman</i> at me.”

“Don't say ridiculous shit.”

Jordan shrugs and Taylor feels it with his whole torso and remembers that, oh yeah, he's still basically laying on top of Jordan, and it isn't for wrestling reasons anymore. He gets up and offers a hand to Jordan. “NHL 13?”

He laughs when Jordan slaps his hand away. “I'm gonna kick your ass,” Jordan says, levering himself up against the cabinets.

“Yeah, we'll see.”

–

Taylor's first week playing with the team for real and not just practicing involves a road trip down to Texas. On a bus. Taylor remembers taking buses to games, it honestly hasn't been that long, but the drive from OKC down to Houston is going to be like eight hours. And because he’s who he is he decides to complain about it out loud in the middle of Earl’s. “Welcome to the AHL,” he mutters.

“It's not that bad,” Jordan says.

“You're like a foot shorter than me, of course you don't think it's that bad.”

Jordan flicks a fry at him. Taylor tries unsuccessfully to catch it in his mouth. “I'm like inches shorter than you,” Jordan says. “Very few inches.”

“At least two,” Ryan says helpfully.

Justin nods. “But not more than six.”

“Fuck you both, it's not six inches.”

Taylor flicks a pickle at Jordan. Fries are too precious to waste, and he's really not a fan of pickles. “I can see over your head without even trying. It's enough.”

“You cannot.”

“I can.”

“Prove it.”

“Right now?”

Jordan gets up from their booth and stands next to it, hands on his hips. “Yes, right now.”

“You look stupid.” Taylor looks at Ryan and Justin, but they're both concentrating really hard on eating right now and are exactly no help. “Seriously?”

Justin looks up from his barbecue. “It makes Nugget really uncomfortable when his parents yell at each other,” he says, with a truly impressive deadpan expression. Taylor is forced to begrudgingly admit, only to himself, that Justin could teach lessons.

Taylor sighs heavily and ridiculously and throws his napkin down. “Fine.” He knows he's exaggerated his and Jordan’s height differences. Jordan knows he's exaggerated their height differences. Literally everyone knows he's exaggerated their height differences, and he stands up and his eyes are right on Jordan's forehead and of course he can't see shit over his head and he hates that he had to stand up and leave his barbecue behind. “Whatever, you non. Fine.” He sits back down again. “Two inches. Why were we talking about this again?”

Jordan is insufferably triumphant with his shit-eating grin. “The bus,” Jordan reminds him. “It's not that bad, so quit your fucking whining.”

“Language, Ebby,” Taylor says. “This is a family establishment.”

Jordan kicks him under the table, and it's really fucking hard actually, but then he leaves his leg pressed up against Taylor's until they leave.

–

Taylor shifts around for the millionth time in as many minutes. The bus is too hot and too cold and too cramped and too . . . everything. He's got his iPad out and has Dexter queued up but can't find a good position for the iPad and his legs and his shoulders. Jordan shotgunned the window seat on the way to the bus and at first Taylor thought that the aisle would be awesome, more room for his legs, but then Arco spread out a blanket, grabbed his pillow, and camped out in the aisle. It's a mad genius idea and Taylor wishes he'd thought of it first, but now he's got nowhere for his legs except under the seat in front of him.

“Stop squirming,” Jordan says, shoving at his shoulder. “I can't sleep when you squirm.”

“I can't get comfortable,” Taylor says, shoving back. “This is the worst.”

House kicks his seat. “Tell us again how wonderful the Oilers plane is, seriously.”

Taylor hunches down in his seat. This is the worst, the absolute worst, but he might be down here for the whole season, given the way the negotiations are going, and he doesn't really want to be <i>that guy</i>.

“Here, just.” Jordan starts manhandling him a bit. “Sit up a minute, will you?” Taylor does and Jordan pulls his leg up behind Taylor and Taylor does not at all see how this is going to be comfortable? But then Jordan grabs his shoulders and turns Taylor away from him and pulls his back into Jordan's chest, so Taylor is basically reclining in a Jordan chair. Taylor tries really hard and really unsuccessfully to not think about every point of contact between them. 

He swings his legs up onto the armrest across the aisle, basically right over Arco's head, but he's asleep and Danis is all alone across the aisle and sleeping with his face mashed against the window and obviously not using the arm rest right now.

“Better?” Jordan whispers, and it's right in his ear and that's definitely what makes the goosebumps spread across the back of his neck. He wonders what Jordan will attribute his full body shudder to, but Jordan doesn't actually ask. Also is it better? No. And yes. 

“Yeah,” he says, just as quiet. It really has no business being comfortable, because they're still two tall, muscular dudes shoved into a seat made for people roughly half their size, but somehow it is, and it’s weird that it is. 

Jordan slings his arm over Taylor's shoulder, because it's that or leave it mashed between Taylor and the seat. He can feel when Jordan falls asleep again, because his breath gets deep and even against Taylor's shoulder.

Taylor puts his earbuds in, props the iPad against his knees, and hits play. He’ll deal with how good all of this feels later.

–

It’s Justin’s idea to go see Cloud Atlas. Taylor doesn’t really like going to movie theaters, he gets bored just sitting there trying to follow along with a plot he doesn’t really care about. He relents when Jordan tells him to stop being a non and promises to buy him a popcorn and lemonade, so he gets on his bike and follows them all down the street to the theater. 

Somehow, when they all go to sit down, Taylor ends up on the end of the row next to Justin, and Jordan’s on the other end next to Ryan, and all Taylor has is his watery lemonade. Ryan and Justin do this thing during the previews where they do a thumbs up or down on whether or not they’ll go see the movie. Jordan starts giving his opinion after he sees Ryan and Justin doing it. 

Taylor keeps his thumb down the whole time and eventually Justin stops turning to ask. 

He only makes it thirty-seven minutes into the movie. By the sixth time a new storyline is introduced and he’s leaned over again to Justin to ask if that’s still Tom Hanks under all the makeup and Justin has shushed him yet again, he just gets up and leaves. He waits in the lobby to see if anyone follows him but eventually Taylor has to concede that they might not have even noticed he’d left. Or maybe they just thought he was taking an extended bathroom break.

The lobby of the movie theater is boring and doesn’t have any couches and he’s actually pretty close to home because everything is pretty close to their apartment, so he just leaves.

He bikes around downtown. There’s a little canal area near the theater and a big statue of a covered wagon. He likes the canal. It’s absolutely nothing like the river in Edmonton but whatever, it’s trying. He stops outside Toby Keith’s restaurant to tweet about the movie and laughs at Whits’ response. 

Most of the time he’s not sure if it’s Oklahoma City that he likes or his anonymity. No one recognizes him here. No one stops him on the sidewalk to ask about their Cup chances. No one laments to him about their godawful power play, or how long it’s been since their last playoff run. No one gives him their insider tips or advice on going top shelf or five hole. He hasn’t been this anonymous in a really long time. 

If he’d stopped to think about it, and he never had, obviously, he’d have assumed he’d find it lonely, isolating. The first time he’d left the country, to go someplace that wasn’t the United States, he’d gone all the way to Russia for hockey. They had people to help them around, translators assigned to help them order dinner and find their way to the bathrooms. And, other than thinking they were obnoxious tourists, the Russians hadn’t really cared much about who he was. He keeps thinking about that time, about being in the middle of a crowd of people and completely unable to communicate with any of them unless they spoke English. 

They speak English in Oklahoma but it’s the same feeling, like there’s something lost in translation between him and the people strolling along the canal. 

He’d never been alone in Russia though, Jordan had been with him. He wonders why he feels more alone now, and he kind of hates it. 

As he’s contemplating that feeling, he realizes he’s hit the highway. And because he’s hit the highway, he doesn’t actually know where he is. It should be easy just turn around and go back the way he came, plus all the streets in Oklahoma City are numbered, but he can’t figure it out. He lets Siri direct him back to the apartment.

-

That's where it ends, these are the notes:

Lockout ends and they go back and Taylor is still pissy and doesn’t know why

Jordan confronts him about it

Taylor finally says that OKC was balls but he missed feeling like they were about to start something, like they were removed from their normal lives in a place where anything could happen

Jordan calls him an idiot and kisses him

“It was like. Anything could happen there. We could have just been two normal guys. And it made me think, if we were just two normal guys, what would I do.” 

“But you didn’t do anything.” 

Taylor shrugs. “We still weren’t normal guys, even though it felt like it.” 

“What’s normal? Nothing’s normal. There’s no such thing as normal.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“So we make a new normal,” Jordan says, and kisses him. 

Okay but now that I’ve been reminded of it I need to add something in there about bonking their heads together as they kiss. 

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #54

Journal Entry #53 // STORY INDEX

Victor

Hey, everyone.

I wanted to record something tonight to tell you that Yuri and I are okay. My last entry was kind of raw, and both of us were struggling really bad, so I figured it was only right to let you know that we came out the other side of that situation. Yuri fared worse than I did, but he's still here and that is what's important.

I'm gonna be honest, it's been a tough few days. Yuri stopped eating again, and I'm really worried he's going to end up back in the hospital if he doesn't get something more than water and soy milk into him soon. It's been doubly stressful because Fox somehow got the idea that it was his fault, and I've had to deal with that too.

The small bit of good news was that Fox understood when I explained to him that Yuri refusing to eat isn't a new thing, and it had nothing to do with him. He seemed reluctant to come back after that, though, and although I tried to encourage him to stick with us a bit longer, ultimately I told him it was fine if he didn't want to.

With one hand free, I'm able to cook, feed myself and do the majority of my own personal care, so I'm not dependent on someone else now. Yuri can at least get out of bed and take himself to the bathroom, so that's no longer an issue either. Some of the housecleaning is still a bit much for me to manage on my own, but I reasoned that the world wouldn't end if the laundry didn't get folded or the kitchen floor didn't get swept every day.

After talking it over, Fox agreed that he'd still come by every couple of days to help me do household chores, but he said he didn't want to look after Yuri any more. I wasn't happy about it, since I think Yuri still needs help maintaining his full personal care routine, but what could I do? I had to acknowledge what Fox wanted.

That might've been the end of the matter for me if Yuri hadn't acted so obviously relieved when he found out Fox wasn't going to be taking care of him any more. If I hadn’t known better, I might’ve thought something bad happened between them, but I knew Fox had been extremely careful. He never touched Yuri in any way without asking first, and he handled him like glass when he did. Sure, they’d had their disputes over food and eating, but Yuri is just as difficult at mealtimes with me and with his parents, so I didn’t see how that'd be any worse with Fox.

From what I observed, Fox had been giving maximum effort, and Yuri hadn't been making it easy for him. And yeah, I get that Yuri's in physical pain and that he's going through a lot psychologically, and I know that makes him frustrated and irritable, but I didn't think it was okay for him to take it out on Fox. I especially didn't think it was okay for him to play on Fox's insecurities. I mean, that poor guy hasn't had an easy life himself. He deserves to be built up instead of being torn down for a change.

Seriously, you guys have no idea how much I wanted to call Yuri out on that, right then and there. I'll concede that I let him get away with a lot, but I love him, and I've learned that love is just as much about helping your loved one learn and grow as it is about all the warm, fuzzy stuff. Sometimes growth is hard, and it might not feel like progress at all when you're going through it, but the end result is usually worth it.

My Grandpa Michael says love is like growing roses. You might not want to cut them back, but pruning them actually helps them get stronger. He says you've got to be careful, 'cause you also have to know when to prune them and how much to cut. And I mean, Grandpa Michael should know. He was married to my grandmother for over forty years, until she passed away, and you don't get that far without understanding what love is. Also, they grew the most gorgeous roses in Brindleton Bay together, and Grandpa Michael still tends them and refers to them as "Lydia's roses".

I haven't seen my grandfather or any of my relatives in Brindleton Bay for over two years, but I know I'll at least see Grandpa at Mom and Julian's wedding. I think he loves my mom as if she's his own daughter, and he stayed close with her and me after my dad and sister passed. At this point, none of us could imagine him not being a part of our lives and being there for all our major life events.

After the wedding, I might go back to the Bay with him for a visit. It'd be nice to spend some one-on-one time with him. We could geek out about sports, do all kinds of fancy cooking, and probably spend hours at the local fitness center. I'm sure there's a lot of maintenance work I could help him do around his place as well. Really, I just want to hang out with somebody who gets me on a fundamental level, and to take a break from all my regular responsibilities.

Oh, and maybe this is kinda off-topic, but in case you're curious, Grandpa Michael isn't my only surviving grandparent. My other set of grandparents, Isabella and Giancarlo DeLuca, are both alive and doing well. They moved back to Tartosa the summer Leo and I graduated from college, so about four years ago now. According to Nonna Isabella, they wanted to spend their golden years in the place where their lives began, which made a lot of sense to me. They immigrated a long time ago, and all their kids — my mom, Uncle Stephen and Uncle JP — were born in Canada, but although they built a life in Willow Creek and are naturalized Canadians now, I'm sure their hearts will always be Italian.

Ugh...yeah. Sorry for getting off-track there. I'm really tired, and I guess you guys have figured out by now that it's harder for me to concentrate and stay focused when I'm like this.

Anyway, back to what I was originally trying to tell you. You might be impressed to hear that I managed to hold back from lecturing Yuri about how he'd been treating Fox. If I'd confronted him about it right away, we would've ended up in an argument. I didn't think he could spare the energy to fight with me, and I can tell you that I certainly didn't have the wherewithal to argue with him. Since discretion is the better part of valour, as they say, I opted to wait for a more appropriate moment.

As it happened, however, my appropriate moment never came because his mother got to him before I did.

Mrs. Okamoto dropped in unexpectedly yesterday afternoon with some sort of soup she'd made for us, and the first thing she said after greeting me was, "Where's your friend? Is he upstairs with Yuri?"

"Um... no," I said, hesitant to tell her too much, but also not wanting to keep the truth from her. "Fox isn't here. He, um... the arrangement wasn't working out for him."

I should've known better than to hope my mother-in-law would let it go at that. "What do you mean, the arrangement wasn't working out? And didn't any of you think it would have been a good idea to tell me or Kenji that the situation had changed? It's not as if one of us hasn't been here with you every night."

"I thought Yuri was going to tell you," I said.

"Why would you think he'd take responsibility for telling us?"

"Uh... because... Like, I don't think Fox was comfortable, and Yuri wasn't very, um... diplomatic? He was sort of feeling like... uncharitable? But, I mean, if I realized he wasn't going to tell you, I would have. It was just—"

She must've noticed that I was getting flustered, because her demeanour softened a little. "No, it's all right," she said. "You're very responsible, and I know you would've told us if you didn't think we already knew."

"Sorry," I said. "I guess I should've told you anyway."

"Perhaps, but it doesn't matter now. At the moment, I'm less interested in who told me about it than I am in why it happened in the first place. Was there a problem?"

"Not from where I was standing," I said. "Fox was doing amazing, as far as I could see."

"Hmm..." was her response. "Well then, I suppose I'll have to ask Yuri about it, won't I?"

I can't say I was overjoyed when I imagined how that would go, and I questioned whether or not Yuri would even tell her the truth. I had a bad feeling he'd try to blame it on Fox when it was unequivocally not Fox's fault, and let me tell you, I definitely wouldn't have been pleased if he had done.

On the pretext of listening to an audiobook in my room, I followed my mother-in-law upstairs when she went up to talk to Yuri. I put my earbuds in, got my phone out of my pocket and laid down on my bed, but I'm sure you've probably already guessed that I didn't actually open up my audiobook app to play anything. As rude as it is to eavesdrop, I'm not even going to pretend I wasn't intending to do it. I totally was, because I wanted to see if Yuri would admit to his mother why he didn't want Fox here any more.

I eased one earbud out of my ear far enough so that it wasn't blocking sound but so it still looked like I was using it. Sneaky? Yes, but it was effective. I discovered that if I lay with my head facing the open door and didn't move around too much, I could hear most of what Yuri and his mother were saying.

They started with small talk, and I wondered if maybe she wasn't going to bring up the subject after all. But then she must've seen her opportunity when he asked her if she was planning to stay with us for the rest of the day and overnight.

I should explain, she and Mr. Okamoto have been taking turns spending the night with us since Mom and Julian and Uncle Kaz left, and they don't usually come until seven or eight in the evening. Fox would usually leave around five o'clock so he'd have time to help make dinner at home, which meant he rarely crossed paths with Yuri's parents.

"No," Mrs. Okamoto said, in response to Yuri's question. "I need to collect Yuki from school and drop her off at your grandmother's house, and then I've got to go back to the school for a parent-teacher conference. Your father's in Kyoto with Hana for a medical appointment today, but he'll be coming to stay with you when he gets back."

That was news. I didn't realize Hana was on speaking terms with her father, much less that she'd want him to accompany her to a doctor's appointment. Then again, Hana's getting really close to her due date, and maybe he insisted on going with her because he didn't want her driving. Whatever it was, I filed that bit of information away in my brain on the chance that it became relevant later.

"Oh. I was hoping it'd be you," Yuri was saying. "I wanted you to help me wash my hair. Papa always makes such a mess. He's not very good at cleaning up, and I don't want Victor to have to mop the floor. That's still too hard for him."

"I would've thought washing your hair was something your friend Fox could help you with," Mrs. Okamoto said, and the words rolled off her tongue as innocently as if she knew nothing whatsoever about Fox's sudden departure. "I'm surprised he's not here today."

"He's not coming back," Yuri said. "And he's not my friend."

"Oh?" Mrs. Okamoto contrived to sound suitably curious. "Why isn't he coming back?"

"Because Victor told him I didn't want him to."

That was a twist I hadn't seen coming. It was Fox's decision not to come back, and although It was fairly clear Yuri hadn't wanted him here and was glad to be rid of him, I hadn't expected him to tell his mother I’d said or done anything to facilitate it. He sounded so proud of it too, like he was boasting about how I'd saved him from some horrible fate. Not that I wouldn't have protected him if there really had been any risk, but that's not how it happened at all.

The way Yuri was recounting it to his mother was such a gross misrepresentation of the situation that it was all I could do to make myself stay in place and not run across the hall to interrupt. But then I remembered I'd already mentioned to Mrs. Okamoto that Fox hadn't been comfortable staying. She's a smart lady, and I admonished myself that I should trust her. She'd draw the correct inferences.

She didn't disappoint me. “Yuri, are you certain it was Victor who told him?”

“I wasn’t there when they talked," Yuri replied.

"So, you don't know that Victor asked him to leave."

"Yes I do, because Victor always makes sure I'm safe."

"I see," Mrs. Okamoto said. "So, am I to assume you were unsafe with that young man here?"

"Yes," he said.

"Did he physically hurt you, or touch you inappropriately?" she asked. "Was he unkind to you?"

There was a long silence, and it was killing me that I couldn’t see what was going on over there. Unless there was something Yuri hadn't revealed to me, the answer I was expecting to hear was 'no'.

After a minute, I caught a weak and tearful-sounding, "No, but..."

"But what?" Mrs. Okamoto prompted.

"He made me feel so awful," Yuri said. He sniffled loudly enough for me to hear it from my room, and I imagined him scrubbing tears away from his eyes with the heels of his palms, just like a toddler would do. Sometimes I find it cute when he does that, but in these circumstances? Not cute at all. "He said I need to try harder, and he wouldn't listen to me when I said I couldn't do things, and... and he was treating me like a child."

"Were you behaving like a child?"

"I don't do that."

"No stubbornness, then? No pouting or temper outbursts?"

"I don't—"

Mrs. Okamoto's next words weren't spoken in a mean way, but there was also no mistaking that she wasn't impressed with her son's attitude. "A little self-awareness wouldn't go amiss here, I think."

"Excuse me? Are you... are you implying I'm immature?" I could already hear the outrage starting to build in Yuri's voice, even though his tears. "You don't even—"

"Yuri," his mother cut him off. In the two simple syllables of his name, her tone conveyed everything; she wanted the truth and she was not having any of his nonsense today. I could easily picture her wielding that same authority in a business meeting when somebody was about to go off on a baseless rant about something. "Mature people don't throw tantrums or manipulate others as a means to an end. They communicate their needs and concerns clearly and honestly. Do you think you can do that?"

"So, you're going to treat me like a child too?"

"If you insist on behaving in that manner, yes," she said mildly. "You know what Papa says. People tend to address others according to the level of maturity they display."

Yuri made a sound of frustration. "If you aren't going to at least try to have some empathy, can you please leave? I don't need any more stress. Is that clear and honest enough?"

There was another pause, and then Mrs. Okamoto said, "I love you. From the moment I found out I was having you, I loved you more than I've ever loved anyone or anything else, and every time I think about you hurting in any way, it hurts me as well. But, I'm your mother. My purpose isn't only to love you. It's also to teach you."

"Teach me what? That I'm dishonest and immature and not self-aware enough?" "

"Yuri—"

"You might as well just say it. Is you goal to teach me I'm a terrible son and a useless failure as an adult? Then congratulations, I suppose, because you've absolutely done that."

"Okamoto Yuri, I did not come here to be disrespected by you," Mrs. Okamoto said, and no joke, I felt a little scared despite the fact that she wasn't talking to me and that I couldn't even see her.

Like, you know you've crossed a line when your mom starts using your whole name. Usually, my mom would be screaming it, often loud enough to be heard at Leo's house, four doors down the street from ours. Victor Thomas Edward Nelson, if you don't get your butt back here in five minutes, you're in big trouble!

It was the same with Aunt Millie. Leo said he knew he was gonna be toast when his mom started busting out "Leonardo Stephen DeLuca!" with enough volume to be heard from my backyard. We used to tell Ellie she didn't know how good she had it. None of us has ever heard Julian raise his voice for anything, let alone to shout Ellie's full name over half of Willow Creek.

But as much as I dislike it when my mom yells, I think if I had to pick, I'd rather have the yelling than the calm, firm voice Mrs. Okamoto was using on Yuri. It was like steel wrapped in velvet, and I'm pretty sure me and Leo would've been terrified if Mom or Aunt Millie had spoken to us like that when we were in trouble.

I half expected Yuri to apologize immediately. It's what I would've done. I probably would've been on the floor, bowing to her and addressing her as Okamoto-sama, and begging her to forgive me. We've been getting to know each other lately, and I feel like we’ve been warming to each other a lot, but that doesn't mean I'm not still afraid of her.

Yuri, apparently, did not share my sentiment.

I could tell he was still crying, but that didn't stop him from sounding as if he believed he had the stronger position. "Interesting, because I wouldn't have thought you'd come here to disrespect me in my own house."

I physically cringed at that, not just because Mrs. Okamoto's reaction was likely to be unpleasant, but also because I had no problem imagining a response with the exact same delivery coming out of Mr. Okamoto's mouth. For all Yuri's insistence that he's nothing like his dad, he kinda is, which maybe proves the theory of nature over nurture.

Part of me wanted to stop listening at that point, and I almost turned on my audiobook for real, but another part of me was drawn to the drama across the hallway.

"If you think honesty is disrespect," Mrs. Okamoto said, "then I'm afraid you've still got some things to learn."

"There's a difference between being honest and being hurtful."

"Yes, there is," she agreed. "The difference is in how you react. If someone else's honesty hurts you, then you ought to ask yourself why that is. If the truth hurts, it's usually because we don't want to admit something about ourselves."

"I don't want to have this conversation," Yuri said.

"Well, I certainly can't force you to," said his mother. "But, if you don't want to talk to me, perhaps you can discuss it with your father instead. He had to learn that lesson too, and it took nearly losing the people he loves most before he accepted it. Maybe his perspective would be more convincing."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that I might've stayed in America with your uncle if it hadn't been for Victor's accident."

He sounded incredulous. "You came back for Victor?"

"I came back for you," she said. "Because I thought you might need me. But, what I'm saying is that when I left last autumn, I had absolutely no intention of returning. Or at least not until your father came to his senses."

"Came to his senses about what, exactly?"

"Came to his senses and realized that he was harming himself and everyone around him," she said. "He was trying to build a wall around himself because he seemed to think it was a way of protecting everyone, but he was still getting hurt and all he really accomplished was to push everyone else away."

"What's that got to do with me?" Yuri said.

"It has everything to do with you."

"How?" Yuri asked.

"Papa was scared and angry and frustrated about things in his life, but instead of talking about it, he was behaving like a child and taking it out on the people he should've trusted to help him get through it," she answered. "He was upset because he felt isolated, as if no one cared about him, but the way he was dealing with it was isolating him even more." Her voice was quieter as she added, "Does that sound familiar?"

There was an even longer silence than the previous ones, and then I thought I heard Yuri say, "I'm sorry."

The next thing I knew, he was pouring out the whole thing to his mother, telling her stuff that he’d never said anything to me about. Although I probably could've inferred some of it, other parts of it were a revelation, and not necessarily in a good way.

He told her how he hadn't really wanted Fox to come here, but he agreed to it for my sake because he knew I was worried about not being able to take care of him myself and because I thought it was an acceptable alternative to the home healthcare program. He endured it as long as he could, he said, and he'd tried not to complain too much because he didn't want to seem ungrateful. But he'd been struggling because Fox was encouraging him to do more and more things for himself and didn't seem to understand when he explained why he couldn't do them.

"I cried every day," he said pitifully. "I didn't want Victor to know, because he doesn't like to see me crying and I didn't want to upset him.”

"You didn’t think he’d want to know you were unhappy?” Mrs. Okamoto asked.

“It wasn’t just being unhappy,” Yuri said. “It’s a lot more than that. It’s… everything. My whole existence. It’s just… all pain, all the time, and sometimes adding one more thing is too much. But, how was I supposed to tell Victor that?”

“You’ve told me,” she said.

“You don’t look at me the way Victor does.” The words came out low and strained, as if he was trying to suppress a sob. “He… he wants to fix it, but he can’t, and he gets this helpless look. It breaks my heart, Mama. I hate being responsible for that.”

“You aren’t responsible for Victor’s feelings,” Mrs. Okamoto said. “It may seem that way, but he’s the only one in control of how he responds. Perhaps I don’t look at you the way he does because I’ve learned to accept your illness and everything that comes along with it."

"Victor knows all about it too."

"Knowing and accepting are different," she said.

I had to think about that for a minute. Did she have a point? Do I really not accept Yuri's illness?

Yes, I do know practically every unpleasant detail of it, and I know how to take care of him. I recognize that he'll always be chronically ill, and that there'll be times when he's well and times when he's really sick. But, is that really acceptance?

Maybe it isn't.

Knowing all the facts is one thing, but being okay with them is another, and I can't say I'm not resentful and angry about Yuri being ill. You have to understand, though, I'm not directing any of that toward Yuri. He can't help being the way he is. It's more like I'm resentful toward the powers of fate or whatever for causing him to suffer this much, and I'm angry because I can't do anything to change it. It's not fair, and it hurts so damn much that I can't even find words to describe how agonizing it is. Just as Yuri said, I want to fix it, but I can't, and that makes me feel defeated, powerless and so overwhelmingly sad that it's as if my heart is being crushed.

I guess it's kinda like what I went through after losing my dad and sister. I experienced all the emotions; denial, sadness, rage, guilt. I did everything I could to find a place in my mind for my grief, to make sense of something utterly senseless.

With Dad and Caroline, I was stuck on sadness for the longest time. Years, in fact, and it's only been since this past summer that I've finally come to terms with it, learning that I can coexist with it without it taking control over the trajectory of my life. It's okay to still feel lost or sad or angry sometimes, but I also understand that wishing for the events of the past to be different is futile and only causes me more pain in the end.

I'm not there yet when it comes to Yuri's illness, and I'm not sure what to do to get there. All I know is, I want to be part of the solution, not part of the problem, but I definitely can't do it on my own. So, I guess the best course of action would be to talk to my therapist about it, right? We've already discussed my challenges as a caregiver, so this likely won't be unexpected for him, and maybe he'll have some good insights to help me move forward.

It's weird, me wanting to involve my therapist. It's super weird to me that I even have a therapist, 'cause that would've been so far off my proverbial radar in the past, I probably would've laughed at anyone who suggested it. But now, I like to call it the silver lining that came out of my accident. If it hadn't been for that, I still wouldn't be seeing him, and maybe I wouldn't be making as much progress on self-improvement.

I realized I'd missed part of the conversation between Yuri and his mom when the sound of him sobbing pulled me out of my musings and back to reality. Evidently, Yuri was determined to say whatever was on his mind regardless of his emotional state, because he was getting choppy bits of sentences out between gasps for breath.

He was crying so hard that I could barely make out what he was saying, and the first thing I was able to catch was, "I hate eating. You know I hate it!"

"You need to eat, Yuri," his mother said gently.

"I know, but I don't want to."

"Why don't you want to?"

"Because it's too difficult," he said. "Fox kept making me do it by myself, but it made me feel worse, and he talked down to me as if I were a little child and I was acting out and being difficult on purpose. But... I really can't do it. I tried so hard to endure it, but I couldn't any more, and I just... I want... I want it to be... be over."

His words got almost completely lost in tears after that, but I thought I heard something about wanting to sleep forever, and about respecting his wishes, and about his whole life feeling out of control.

His mother let him cry for a bit, and then she said, "Did you tell any of this to Victor?"

"N-not really."

"Then, how did you expect him to help you or to respect your wishes?" she asked. "He loves you unconditionally and he's a wonderful caregiver, but he can't read your mind. Neither can I, nor your father, nor anyone else."

"I... I know. But..."

"You need to let us know how you feel and what you need."

"I'm tired of being weak," he said. "I'm tired of being a failure and a disappointment and... and a burden to everyone. Maybe it'd be better if I wasn't even here, because then I wouldn't be hurting everyone I love."

"Darling, look at me," Mrs. Okamoto said, and I envisioned her sitting down on the bed and cradling the side of his face in her hand. "No one would be better of without you. We love you, and we want you to be here. Do you understand?"

"You don't understand. I... I'd be better off," he said. "Mama, please... I've suffered long enough, and it's not fair that everyone else has to suffer because of me."

"We can get help for you,"she said.

"I don't want any more help. I'm trying to tell you, that's the problem. Everyone always has to do everything for me, and I don't want that. I'd rather live an independent life, or... not at all."

"Being ill and needing help are things that are entirely beyond your control," she told him. "You're not disappointing anyone, and you aren't burdening us by asking for help. What hurts us is watching you pretend things aren't as bad as they are and seeing you try to fight all alone, and finally reaching a breaking point like this."

"But, don't you want me to be independent?"

"I think you misunderstand what independence is," she said. "It has very little to do with how much you rely on others and everything to do with how you handle your responsibilities. If you can't do something on your own, the responsible thing to do is to ask someone to help you. Your independence is in your ability to make your own choices and to do what you need to do to reach your goals."

"I don't have any goals," he said. "They seem kind of pointless."

"Do they?"

"They do when I know I'll never achieve them anyway."

"What do you think you can't achieve?"

"What can I achieve when I'm like this?" he countered.

"Tell me something," Mrs. Okamoto said. "If you could make one wish come true right now, what would it be? Anything at all."

I was surprised at his answer. "Papa asked me that too. I told him I'd like to go to Sulani with Victor."

Mrs. Okamoto didn't seem surprised at all. "Could that be a goal?"

"No," Yuri said. "We're never going to be able to do it."

"Why not?" Mrs. Okamoto asked."

"Because we spent all our money on the down payment for Victor's haunted house, and once we get there, we'll be spending more money on furniture and a car and his university tuition and who knows what else."

"What if money were no object?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I know you told Papa you wanted to go to Sulani," she said.

"He told you that?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "We discussed it, and we also talked about it with your grandparents. You didn't have a honeymoon, and none of us gave you a wedding gift, so we decided that we'd like to pay for your trip, if you really want to go."

"What?" Yuri blurted.

That was more or less my reaction, too. I literally had to put my hand over my mouth to prevent myself from making any noise. I was shocked by the proposition. I'd like nothing more than to go back to Sulani and to take Yuri with me, but like him, I was resigned to the idea that it'd be a very long time before we'd get the chance, due not just to our finances but to his health and everything else going on in our lives.

"We were going to wait until you were feeling better, and Papa and I were planning to tell you and Victor together," Mrs. Okamoto said. "But I think this is the right time."

"Why do you think this is the right time? How is it right?" he demanded and, far from sounding pleased, he still seemed angry. "I can barely leave my bed, never mind leaving the country. I don't know if I'll even be well enough for our move. How can I think about going on a vacation?"

"I don't mean now is the right time to go," she clarified. "I mean, this is the right time to tell you. Clearly, you aren't ready yet, but perhaps you'll find some motivation to set some goals if you have something to look forward to."

"Such as?"

"You tell me," she said. "If you can't think about going on a vacation, then think about your move. What would you need to do to be ready for that?"

"Besides packing, and starting my immigration paperwork, and spending even more money on our flight?" he said. "Get better."

"And what would that look like?"

"You expect me to say eating on my own, don't you?"

"No," she said. "I don't. I expect you to tell me what your definition of getting better is."

"Being able to get up and do things for myself," he said. "Not being a drain on everyone around me and not putting all the responsibility for everything on Victor's shoulders. Not being constantly tired and stressed, and I don't know... Actually feeling there's some reason to be alive."

"What's causing you the most stress?"

"Eating," he replied, likely to the astonishment of no one.

"Is there anything that would make it less stressful?" she asked, and then added, "Something other than someone feeding you."

"Dr. Kasongo suggested tube feeding," he said. "Victor thinks I don't know he was talking to her about it. I think they were trying to keep it from me until the doctor felt like it was absolutely necessary, because they were worried I'd be upset. But, I... I might actually want that. Do you... do you think it's awful for me to want it?"

"If you'd like my personal opinion," she said, "I think that's a bit extreme. There may be something less drastic you can do before resorting to that. if you want to know whether or not it would be a good solution for you, though, I think you should speak to your doctor about it yourself."

"I don't know if I can," Yuri said.

"Of course you can," she said. "I'll come with you, if you like."

"Really? What about Victor?"

"If you'd rather have him with you, then certainly, he should come."

"No. I want you to come," Yuri said. "But—"

"You have to tall him," Mrs. Okamoto said firmly. "No more keeping things from him, all right? I think you know, marriages can't survive too many secrets, even if you believe you're keeping them for the right reasons."

"Even if I want to protect him?"

"Remember what I told you," she said. "You're not protecting him by hiding things from him. I'll come with you to talk to the doctor, but I need you to promise not to keep anything from Victor from now on. Not about this or about anything else that's upsetting you."

"Okay," he said meekly.

"And if you're worried about him keeping things from you, I'll be addressing that with him as well."

That was the moment when I stopped listening. My mind was already spinning from everything I'd overheard, both positive and negative. The prospect of getting lectured by my mother-in-law was one thing too many for my brain to process. I finally opened my audiobook and started listening just to distract myself from panicking.

Up to then, I thought Yuri and I were doing okay with our communication. Yeah, we have our problems, but I believed we were pretty much open with each other. It was jarring to view it from somebody else's perspective and to see we may have been hiding a lot more than either of us realized.

Something else to work on, I thought.

It's okay, though. We're all works in progress, so there'll always be something to do, and I'd rather know what I need to fix and do my best to make changes than to just blithely go about my business and never understand that I could be hurting someone. Like, ignorance may be bliss for the ignorant person, but not for the people around him.

Change is hard, but I think that thing about pruning the roses applies to ourselves as well as our loved ones. If I want to bloom, I may have to cut back a few of my own branches too.

[housewifebuck]

Do you have any tips about welcoming a new cat when you already have one ?

I've lived a long time with three cats. Now two are unfortunately gone (at age 16 and 15 <3). The one I still have with me is 13 now, and while she used to live with other cats, she has never 'welcomed' any new cat since I already had the other two when I adopted her when she was a kitten.

She's a little fearful so as much as I miss having more than one cat, I'm kind of scared that she would not take well suddenly having a new cat (she's been alone with me for a year and a half now), and I don't want her to start having medical issues because of it since she's completely healthy rn (and in the same way I don't want to adopt a cat and then have to send it back to the refuge because my cat can't accept it...).

Sorry for the long ask, I'm just really undecided about this (but let's be real for now I'm going with the no new cat option because my cat's well being is more important than anything I could want).

hiii!!! again this is gonna be a little long probably so ill put it under the cut heheh

I totally understand your hesitation even with a cat that has been around other cats before. adults, especially seniors, don't always take to new blood in the household. that said! I have had a lot of adopters with older cats successfully integrate new cats/kittens into their homes. here are some of my top tips for doing it successfully:

adult cats tend to tolerate kittens under 6 months the best. they are less of a "threat" and adults will typically be less territorial towards them. That said, if you have a senior cat who is not super active, a single kitten may not be a good match because their energy levels will not match. Cats are pack animals, which means most of them do instinctively want companionship, but only if their personalities work together. For this reason, among many others, I always recommend adopting kittens in pairs. this way they can entertain each other while still providing company for the older cat.

a slow introduction is the most important thing any time you are bringing in a new cat. keep the new cat or kitten in a separate room like a bathroom for at least a week. let them smell each other under the door. have their first face to face meeting be through a baby gate or something similar so on the off chance one of them reacts violently, they will not be able to get to each other before you can intervene. generally, if a cat is going to react aggressively to the point of attacking it will happen during the first or second meeting. they won't seem to be okay and then suddenly start fighting later. feed them near each other a few times and closely supervise their first few weeks of interaction.

hissing, growling, fleeing, and even mild swatting when they get too close to each other is all normal behavior when introducing a new cat. very rarely will a cat take to a new animal in their environment without some combination of these behaviors. they are not cause for immediate concern. these are "warning" behaviors that just mean one cat is telling the other to get the fuck up out of their face basically. calmly separate them and try again later. it's super unlikely especially with a borderline geriatric cat that she will react so negatively that you'd need the following information, but just in case....

actual red flags that mean you need to intervene immediately (my favorite method to intervene in a cat fight, as stupid as it sounds, is keep an upside down trash can or laundry basket nearby to put over top of the aggressor):

"mooing" (you will know this sound when you hear it. it's pretty self explanatory.) or yowling. 99% of the time these sounds means a fight is about to break out.

offensive/defensive posturing. examples: standing with their chin tilted down and ears flat, hackles raised, poofy tail. or crouching or lowering their front half to the ground, hissing, backing away. these stances are accompanied and sometimes preceded by a "pinched" facial expression and dilated pupils.

MOST IMPORTANTLY:

the best thing I can possibly recommend to you, and literally anyone reading this, is to look into fostering. not only are all rescues everywhere absolutely desperate for foster homes (we can only rescue as many cats as we have foster placement for), but it's also an excellent way to test the waters when you are thinking of adding a new cat to your home. in the event that your cat says Absolutely Not to adopting another cat, fostering is often a good alternative. your foster cats would need to be kept in a separate room (could literally be a bathroom or walk in closet) away from your resident cat anyway, so it is usually way less stressful for residents. not to mention it is so so rewarding emotionally and you get to play with kittens all the time literally for free and with none of the responsibility that comes with adopting. all you need to do is provide them with a warm loving place to hang out until they find their forever home:)

[goldheartedsky]

Idk if you're still doing the kiss prompt fills but Andy/Booker for 50?

50) ...out of love

"I'm sorry the house is a fucking mess," Booker mumbles, embarrassment flooding up his throat as Andy steps through the door. "I've been trying to get everything cleaned up, but, y'know..."

A grin tugs at her lips before she leans in and kisses him on the cheek, Booker all but melting under her touch. "You've got three kids under 5, Book. I'm not expecting your house to look like a museum," she says, punching his shoulder gently. "I'm just glad you finally stopped acting like a hermit."

"Yeah, I just—" He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck and swallows thickly. "It's just been a lot to deal with, Heloise being gone and all."

It's been a year since she walked out on him—on them all, really—and, while the initial blow of his wife's infidelity had cut him so deep that it's a miracle he's even in one piece, Booker is still reeling from the fact that Heloise could just walk away from the boys without looking back once. So, yeah, he's pulled away, drank too much, focused on the boys instead of his friends or even himself.

Who wouldn't?

But Andy seems to sense the shame creeping back into his body and chases it away in an instant, slinging her arm over his shoulder and tugging him toward the couch. "Come on, we've got a lot to catch up on."

They put some dumb old sitcom on the TV and chip away at the past six months of missed moments together, Booker laughing for the first time in way too long. It was like missing a limb, like living underwater for months on end, and Booker is finally able to breathe again.

At least, until Jean-Pierre wakes up—the baby monitor blaring red as the toddler starts crying.

"Fuck," Booker grumbles, looking at Andy apologetically. "It'll just be a minute. He probably dropped his—"

Andy rolls her eyes and shoves him up off the couch. "Book, it's fine, go take care of JP. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

He freezes, words cutting straight into the tenderest parts of his heart, and wonders if Andy really knows what she said. She's here. She's not leaving him.

It takes a little bit to settle Jean-Pierre and, even though Andy had promised she'd be there when he got back, a little rush of surprise still runs through Booker when he sees her still on the couch when he comes back downstairs. But that surprise is immediately replaced by aching infatuation when he sees what she's doing on the couch.

Booker's legs feel numb as he makes his way down the last couple steps, watching Andy fold another one of Henri's little shirts. The basket of clean laundry he had abandoned a few days ago is at her feet and a pile of folded clothes sits beside her like it's the most normal thing in the world.

"What—What are you doing?" Booker croaks, throat suddenly so dry he's not sure how the words come out.

Andy's brow furrows as she looks up at him, a pair of JP's pajamas in hand. "Folding the boys' laundry?" she says, like he's stupid and, honestly, maybe Booker is. "I figured you could use the help and I'm here." The room spins and a soft smile tugs on Andy's lips as her head tilts. "What?"

He's not sure what happens but something comes over him. His mind shuts down and his heart takes over his body as he stumbles over to Andy, grabbing the pair of pajamas from her hands and tossing them to the side. She doesn't even have a chance to say a single word as Booker wraps one hand around the back of her neck and drags Andy into a devoted kiss. He kisses until they both run out of breath, until his head is spinning, until Andy kisses him back with just as much tenderness.

"What was that for?" she whispers, finally breaking the kiss to catch her breath. Andy's aquamarine eyes are wide and bright and Booker never wants to let her go. "It's just laundry..."

Booker shakes his head and pulls her into another kiss before murmuring, "It's so much more than that."

[athunderstryke]

my grandparents have recently both passed away and my dad is currently remodeling their house with the intention of selling it. they lived countries and continents away so I didn't get around to visiting them all that often but from the times that I did, I remember that house and I remember that they lived there. I asked my brother, who is much older than me and spent a lot more time growing up in the house, if he is sad that the house is being changed and we may never go in it again. He hasn't been able to visit at all in the past years even though he constantly wishes he could so I thought he would be sad. But it surprised me when he said that he doesn't mind about the house, he plans to visit the graves. I realized that I did not think that way. Because to me, their memory, their soul, isn't with a rock I've never seen before. It's in my memories, in the house. It's when my grandma helped me wash and hang my laundry to dry from the apartment window, its where my grandpa would joke around and tell me he can summon rain by singing when we were walking through the hallway. Revisiting these memories, seeing the worn out wood floors, the sun bleached rugs, the china collections, and the old old tv, that would be more impactful for me in remembering them.

But all of this is different for my dad. To him, he's getting peace and closure with clearing out the house. He didn't have the best relationships with his parents, so changing the house and getting rid of it is his way of lifting the past traumas off his shoulders. In a way it was exactly the same for me here. Since my dad has been gone for years to take care of my grandparents and now fix the house, us here, my siblings and I, have been remodeling my dad's house with the intention of renting it while he's gone. This house was where I grew up. Played with my toys running all around, stuck glow in the dark stars and paper moons on my walls, etched my height into the door frame. But also, this is the house where I'd drop everything I was doing and freeze to try to hear why my parents were yelling. This was the house where the dinners would be tense. This is the house where I was lectured that I shouldn't listen to pop music. This is the house where I began to be obsessively germaphobic, because that's what my dad was. But also, this is the house I lived in when I had the most friends, the entire street were mostly kids my age and we would all play, go to the park and play lava tag, play in the mountain wilds, turn our front yards into potion shops and super hero hangouts. This was the house I bravely learned to lose my baby teeth. The house where my mom would teach me to cook and sew. But also, this was the house where my dad was always by his computer, typing away at his book or arguing with someone online about politics. The house I was homeschooled in cause real school didn't work for me. My mom tried her best but I was difficult and I would cry and yell because I just couldn't understand math. This was the house I loved and hated and would never want to live in again. So of course I wanted it remodeled, I wanted that white-ish yellow walls my dad painted when we first moved in to be gone. The beige matted carpets that never got vacuumed after me and my mom moved out completely ripped out. The lights changed, the countertops, the banisters, the front door. Change everything, replace Theseus's ship one plank at a time. We threw out old things and shoved all my dad's stuff in a storage unit. Now there are new people living there. But with so much stuff changed, I realized the memories still remained. The house looks different on the inside but the layout is still the same, the kitchen where my dad jokingly said he'd kill me if I was gay is still there, the bedroom I cried in and couldn't sleep cause I anxious about something or another. The outside is the exact same. The backyard where my dad planted trees we took care of cause he'd leave. My friends houses are still there even though every single one of them has moved away. You can change the ship's planks all you want, making it technically a different ship, but in Theseus's mind, it will always be the same ship.

Not sure what the intention of this post was. Supposed I wanted to draw parallels and underline history repeating itself in my family. Maybe for the first time in many years I am starting to understand my dad and not really hate him in my angsty teenage way. Everyone has their unique upbringing causing a butterfly affect for the rest of their lives and affecting their children. he was raised in the soviet union, his country experienced famines, money in banks was lost, he did everything he could to get his family out of there, they moved around until getting a scholarship into an American college and being able to comfortably move his family to the US and then I was born. I understand the stress he lived through, I understand that there are some things I don't understand. I understand that I won't ever forgive him for some of the things I grew up with. But I also understand that he loves me, he doesn't know how to love me, cause his love can be stressful and suffocating sometimes, but he loves me. And I am making my peace with that, I am moving on. Because even if you don't agree with someone, they have a negative effect on your mental health, and you wished they raised you better, they still deserve to be understood.

my life and circumstances may be different than yours, but I still wish my thoughts here helped you be able to make peace with your own life.

[tacetnix]

The New Year (OOC)

>// What was 2023? In retrospect, in hindsight, it's a year of frustrations. It's a year of being kicked to the curb and being hung out to dry, and at the same time it's a year that's been... reconfirming?

I started the year learning that my IT team was being deleted. That we had two weeks before we were going to be moving to the BioMed project. Up until May, I was doing thankless, menial work scraping medical-grade stickers with a razor, and applying new, shittier labels instead. They wanted us to do more and more, and somehow nothing we did was good enough.

Come my birthday, we were put on extended leave, given one or two days' worth of work with weeks of nothing in-between... and come the end of May, we're told that we were retroactively let go.

I can't express how much I have to thank the friends who helped me get through those few months of rough waters as I tried to scramble and find something new for work.

It just sucks that the only job that took me was working at an industrial paint facility, right next to unrepentant felons who got fired left, right and center for HR violations, sex-on-the-job, and threatened violence against their coworkers. Working in 100°F (~37.78°C) internal temperatures next to a 400°F furnace? Not great. Their attendance policy was draconian, and if I missed four days (even with doctor's notes), I'd be terminated on the spot. I was there for over a month, and thankfully I managed to get some interview for other IT work in the meantime. I was able to leave on good terms with the company, and started work again in another hospital.

Which has been a delight (to be back in the field) with its stresses (being verbally abused by a boss and pushed by higher ups to achieve impossible metrics). Overall, super happy to be back!! It's not perfect, but it's helped me realize I do actually want to stay in this field.

Sometime along the year though, I fell out of love with the main hyperfixation I'd been carrying since 2019: Lancer RPG. I came to realize that the community, the developers, the people they trust to champion it... will never live up to the promises that the game set out for. That at its core, it's a fundamentally flawed game that no amount of hacking or patching will fix. And for a huge amount of the year... that left me in a rut.

And that.. brings me to now.

This is a massive laundry list of shit that's gone wrong this year. But I'm happy. My wife is doing better than she ever has, I was prescribed adderall and it's helped me get things done reliably. It's the first year that I've spent since college that visiting my parents went well, and no (real) fights or personal slights happened... and we actually spent Christmas with them for the first time since... 2018, I think?

I'm devving my own game now, I've learned a ton more programming, and I'm self-teaching myself some app development! All the while I've been hungrily consuming new interests, and feel pretty positive about how everything can go from here!

The pros... don't outweigh the cons, but I'm choosing to look for the future with a smile on my face. I have my ideas of where I'd like to be, and for anything awry with my work... my work-life balance is better than it was when I drove a school bus.

I'm hoping that I'll be able to write more with you all in the coming months... and I also hope that come March, I'll still have a job that I'm working, so I'm not going nuts with stress again!

Sorry to just splurge all over the dash; if you've read this far, I hope you're doing well! Let me know what piece of wisdom you picked up in 2023! Mine is: "Be adamant that you aren't going to do overtime. Never give them an inch, because they'll drag you for a mile."