#That doc appointment has left me so much more fucking anxious than before

[oh-home-sweet-home]

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[debbiechanclub]

Know You Better Now (*new* BTOOT sequel), Part 1

The title is the same, but I assure you the content is all shiny and new! The revamped BTOOT sequel is here!

Thank you to everyone for your patience on this. I just lost interest/direction for the original sequel after Ethan all but disappeared off Dynamite, but I'm honestly kind of glad I did because I like this new version so. Much. More. And we have Kenny's facial hair to thank for it.

So enough talking - enjoy! And please let me know what you think!

Know You Better Now

Synopsis: Nearly nine months have passed since Alex's freak shoulder injury, and she's still not cleared for action. But while Kenny has been a source of strength for her throughout her recovery, all her other relationships are in shambles - and she's finding it harder and harder to reconcile the Kenny she knows behind closed doors with his persona as the "Belt Collector."

Part: 1/?

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x TBD 👀

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Language, ANGST

Find more of my fics here.

Tag squad: @galacticstat @hotyeehawman @hdbngsprnva @heelchampbucks @kingswitchblade @bec0m @betsy-bradock @linziland13 @librathepheonix13 @gabbynorth98 @exe-babymox-exe @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @brokenglassslippers @rocca09 @meteora-fc @kawaiikels @adriii-omega @thatgirlforever5 @sugar-melts-mo-fo

May 30, 2021 AEW Double or Nothing

Surgery with six to twelve months’ recovery time. That was the prognosis Alex had received when she’d dislocated her shoulder in September. Now, nearly nine months later, everything had changed.

“Well, there’s good news and there’s not-as-good news,” Doc Sampson started. He’d just completed yet another check-up exam on her shoulder, and Alex could tell he was trying to keep up morale. But she already knew what he was going say. “The good news is you’ve gotten the full range of mobility back. The bad news is the strength isn’t quite there yet.”

She scoffed lightly to herself. It was exactly as she suspected. “So it’s no news, in other words,” she quipped.

“At least it’s not bad news?” Kenny hopefully offered.

Doc smiled sympathetically. “Just keep at it. Resistance bands, weights; you know the drill.”

Alex’s eyebrows arched. “Yeah, I do,” she returned. It seemed like weight training and physical therapy was all she did anymore.

“Just a few more weeks,” Doc said; but in medical-speak, time was relative. Alex knew all too well that weeks could easily mean months. “Good luck tonight, Kenny,” he added, and he went out the door.

Alex’s head fell back and she groaned in frustration. Kenny wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. “It won’t be much longer,” he assured with a kiss on the side of her head.

“It’s been almost nine months,” she muttered.

“I know. But you don’t want to rush your recovery, especially for something like a shoulder injury.”

She frowned. “At this rate Anna will be back from her shoulder injury before I am.”

“What?” Kenny laughed and hugged her tighter. “No, she won’t. I give it maybe another month and you’ll be back better than you were before. Which reminds me, you should probably have some new gear made. I bet your old stuff is too big on you now.”

The sound of her laugh was muffled by his shoulder. “Because you’ve been kicking my ass every week for the last six months,” she said. If there was a silver lining to her injury, it was that she’d gotten into the best shape of her life what with all the training she’d been doing—and it was all thanks to Kenny. Truth be told, Alex didn’t know what she would have done without him over the last nine months. He’d moved her into his house so she wouldn’t have to struggle through the weeks after surgery alone; he’d set her up with his doctors; he’d driven her to physical therapy appointments and trained with her every single week. He’d been there for her in ways she couldn’t even express, and she’d fallen even more in love with him for it.

It made it that much more difficult for her to admit that the Kenny she knew in private was a far cry from the one who called himself the “Belt Collector.”

“I wouldn’t push you if I didn’t think you could handle it,” he returned with a peck on her lips. “I don’t think anyone’s gonna recognize you out there tonight.”

Alex momentarily tensed in his arms, but she didn’t relax quick enough. Kenny felt it—and he knew exactly what it was about.

“You’re not having second thoughts about it, are you?”

She looked up at him. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t,” she admitted.

Kenny’s face fell. “Alex… we’ve talked about this.”

“I know,” she breathed. She stepped back from him, suddenly anxious. They had talked about it, at length. It was a big statement for her to accompany him for his match tonight, because she hadn’t been seen since her injury. In fact, she’d all but gone off-grid. She hadn’t been on television; she’d barely posted on social media; she hadn’t responded to any questions for comment about her recovery or her thoughts on Kenny’s pursuits. She’d just wanted to fly under the radar until she was back in that ring for good.

But then, two-and-a-half weeks ago, the match between PAC and Orange Cassidy for a shot at Kenny’s AEW World Championship had gone to a no contest. As a result, it was decided that Kenny would defend the title in a triple threat match against them both at Double or Nothing—tonight. And as soon as the match was booked, Alex knew—she knew—that Kenny would find a way to pull her into it.

But she didn’t know if she could—or should—go out there with him. Not with the way things currently were between her and the people she’d thought were her best friends.

Kenny reached out and took her hands in his, and she looked back up at him from the floor. His blue eyes were concerned. But she could tell he was frustrated.

“I want you out there with me, baby. And yeah… I’d be lying if I said Orange wasn’t part of the reason why.”

She frowned. “Kenny—”

“Just hear me out,” he gently cut her off, and she pursed her lips. But she let him continue. “Best Friends are actually supposed to be your best friends, right? But when was the last time any of them checked in on you? I know Chuck did for a while, but Trent? He’s been a complete asshole to you.”

Alex fidgeted, her chest tightening. His words were like salt in a wound—but he wasn’t wrong. At first, Chuck had checked in on her fairly regularly… but his texts and FaceTime calls had tapered off after the first couple months. At the time, she’d just chalked it up to circumstance. She was out of sight and out of mind, and he and Orange had been put through more than their fair share of bullshit by Miro, Kip, and Penelope after Trent had torn his pec muscle in December. She couldn’t really blame him for going quiet.

But then, two months ago, Trent had returned with Kris in tow—and Alex hadn’t been able to chalk it up to circumstance any longer. And when Kris seemingly became an official member of Best Friends, she couldn’t ignore the twinge of jealousy in her gut, either. She felt forgotten. Replaced in person just as much as she had been on the Best Friends t-shirt. And the thing of it was, none of them seemed to even miss her.

Least of all Trent.

Kenny squeezed her hands, redrawing her attention. “Look… I’m not trying to turn you against them. But I can see how hurt you are by how they’ve acted over the last couple months, and it kills me. And yeah, it pisses me off, too. So… why not come out there with me tonight, looking absolutely fucking fantastic, and show Best Friends just how good you’re doing without them?”

Alex’s brow furrowed. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, there was a petty part of her that wanted to do exactly that. But the softer side of her just wanted her friends back.

“I get what you’re saying, I just... I feel like I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.”

“I know you do,” he sympathetically returned. “But I’m not asking you to go out there and try to keep Orange from winning. I just want you in my corner. And maybe I want to show you off a little bit, too.”

He grinned and pulled her closer, and Alex couldn’t help the coy smile that pulled at her lips. Through all their ups and downs, Kenny had never failed to make her feel special; wanted. She didn’t take that for granted—especially not now.

“I did bring a really cute outfit to wear,” she said, sliding her hands up his arms. “It would be a shame if it went to waste.”

His smile widened. “Well then you gotta wear it.”

Alex bit her lip in thought. But she didn’t think for long. She put her hands on either side of his face and gave him a tender kiss. “You know I love you, right?”

Kenny gripped her waist. “Of course, I do. I love you, too,” he returned, and he kissed her again. “Come on, you should go get ready,” he said with a pat on her backside. And as they left the exam room, Alex knew that accompanying Kenny for his match was the right decision.

It was the potential consequences that worried her.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Holy shit, I almost didn’t recognize you!”

That was what Stella had proclaimed when Alex walked into hair and makeup. It was followed by a chorus of more of the same, a parade of hugs from everyone in the room—and dozens of questions.

“How are you? You look incredible!”

“Is your shoulder cleared?”

“So, are you officially living with Kenny now?”

“I’ve been dying to know how you feel about everything going on with him.”

And Alex had done her best to field each one of them.

“I’m doing pretty well, and thanks. It seems like I’ve been filling all my free time with working out.”

“No… not yet. But hopefully in the next few weeks.”

“I mean, not officially. I still have my house in Virginia—my cousin’s been renting it out. But I don’t know. It feels like I’ve officially moved in.”

“It is what it is. He’s just being Kenny Omega.”

Thankfully, no one pressed her on that last one.

Instead, Stella was all too happy to dish on all the latest and juiciest backstage news and gossip. Anna Jay and Jungle Boy were an item. Cody had estranged himself from nearly everyone. Callie had left AEW and pro wrestling altogether—and moved in with Cash. Alex had already known about that one, but it was still strange to hear. Looking back, it was hard to believe her friendship with Callie and relationship with Cash had ever even happened at all. It felt like another life; another time.

“You’re all done, my dear,” Stella said. She handed her a mirror—and Alex was taken aback by her own reflection. Long, sleek dark brown hair; glowing fair skin; pouty nude lips; a sexy reverse cat eye that made her hazel eyes pop. She sat up a little straighter. For perhaps the first time in months, she felt herself again.

She thanked Stella and hopped out of the chair, a pep in her step as she went out the door—

“Alex?!”

She halted in her tracks. Even though she hadn’t heard it in forever, she’d recognize that voice anywhere—Kris. She held her breath and turned around; but relaxed in relief. It was just her and Orange. At least she wouldn’t have to face them all at once.

“Holy shit!” She hurried over and wrapped her in a tight hug before she could even blink. Alex was stiff and awkward as she returned it. She hadn’t expected that reaction.

“Why didn’t you tell us you’d be here tonight?” Kris asked as she stepped back from her. Alex hesitated to answer.

“Um, I thought about it. But given why I’m here…”

She trailed off and looked awkwardly at Jim. He shrugged. “It’s business,” he returned. “So I guess this means you’ll be in Kenny’s corner tonight?”

Alex crossed an arm over herself and nervously fidgeted with the skin on her elbow. She nodded. Jim’s expression remained as indecipherable as ever.

“And you look hot as fuck,” Kris perceptively interjected. “Seriously, I think I might be questioning my sexuality.”

Alex breathed a laugh—

“You should come say hi to Chuck and Trent! Trent’s gonna shit himself.”

Just like that, her smile vanished. Her lips parted in silent question, uncertain if Kris was being serious. But she looked too genuinely excited not to be.

“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Alex said. “I mean, considering the last time I talked to Trent…”

She trailed off and looked down at her shoes. There had been things said by both her and Trent in the heat of the moment that had made an already uncomfortable situation worse. They hadn’t spoken in more than five months, since right before he’d gotten injured. She didn’t think now was the time to start.

“Trent has his head up his ass,” Jim said, and Alex flicked her eyes back up at him, surprised. “You know how he is with this stuff. You’ll probably have to be the bigger person.”

Alex sighed. He was probably right. But again—tonight wasn’t the night. “Now’s just not the time,” she remorsefully returned. “But I’ll see you out there. Good luck—really.”

And before either of them could say anything else, she turned and continued down the hall, digging her nails into the palms of her hands.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Maybe you shouldn’t come out there… you’re gonna distract me walking around like this.”

Alex looked at Kenny through the mirror as he sidled up behind her. He reached up and brushed her hair back from her neck, and she tilted her head so he could press his lips against her skin.

“It's too late,” she returned. “I’ve already gone through all the trouble of getting ready.”

Kenny hummed. “Well, I can take it all off for you, if you want.”

He nipped her neck, and she smirked and squirmed. Her mood had completely turned around from earlier in the night; it was amazing what a little hair and makeup and the right outfit could do. The white bustier-style crop top she wore wasn’t her usual style, but it showed off the hard work she’d put in at the gym—and it didn’t hurt that it made her boobs look amazing. And even though she’d made the outfit more “her” with a pair of distressed boyfriend jeans and her white low-top Chucks, Kenny was right—they probably wouldn’t recognize her out there.

But truth be told, she’d never felt more confident.

“You can later,” she smirked, and she felt a low growl rumble in his bare chest.

“Get a room!”

Alex rolled her eyes. Matt’s voice was an unwelcome interruption from across the locker room. She’d almost forgotten that he and Nick were there.

Kenny shot a glare over his shoulder. “Why are you looking?”

Matt opened his mouth, but two quick knocks on the door cut him off before he could make a smart-ass retort, and then Don Callis walked in.

“We’re up, Ken.”

Kenny smirked at Alex. “Let’s go give the people what they really want.”

He picked up his AEW World Championship, and she helped him secure it around his waist, followed by the Impact World Championship, which he strapped across his chest. Then, he picked up the AAA Mega Championship and old TNA World Heavyweight Championship and held them in each of his hands. And Alex had to admit—it was an impressive sight, Kenny draped in championship gold. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t turn her on.

“How do I look?” he asked her.

She bit her lip. “Good. Really good.”

He grinned, cocky.

They started for the door; but before Alex could follow Don and Kenny out, Matt stopped her. “Alex.” He pushed himself up from his chair and cast Nick a glance. He stood too. She rolled her eyes. They weren’t subtle at all.

Matt gave her a discerning look. “You are one-hundred percent in Kenny’s corner… right?”

Her brow lowered dangerously. Was he really questioning her loyalty now? “Are you serious?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Well… I know Orange is one of your best friends—”

“Or he was,” Nick interjected.

“—and I just want to make sure that there aren’t any conflicts of interest.”

He smirked, obnoxiously smacking his gum between his teeth. Alex bit down on her jaw. She’d thought that maybe—maybe—Callie’s departure and her relationship with Kenny would have led her and Matt to at least be friendly with each other. But she’d thought wrong.

She gave him a tight smile. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Matt. The only conflict going on here is the one between what you think that outfit looks like and what it actually looks like.”

He abruptly stopped chewing his gum. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But Alex was already out the door. She caught up with Kenny and fell in step beside him. “Forget something?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Just got held up.”

They arrived at Gorilla, and Don went on and on talking Kenny up, boosting his confidence, assuring that neither Orange nor PAC stood a chance; but Alex tuned him out, nervously looking around. Waiting. And then she saw them: Orange, Chuck, Kris, and Trent.

Her heart jumped into her throat when her eyes met Chuck’s. He flashed her a smile; but it wasn’t as wide or as bright as she was used to.

“Hey. It’s good to see you,” he said, and he gave her arm a squeeze as he passed. She said nothing in response—just a tight grin of acknowledgement. Entirely impersonal compared to how they used to greet each other.

It’s the circumstances, she tried to tell herself.

Orange and Kris greeted her in much the same way, with awkward half-smiles as they walked by; Kris seemed apologetic, for some reason. And then, Trent reached her. His expression was cold, his eyes hard, and then he muttered underneath his breath, just loud enough for her to hear, “Thanks for telling us you’d be here.”

He kept walking, not waiting for her to even process what he’d said, and Alex’s heart sunk petrified into the pit of her stomach.

This was how things were now. She felt stupid for hoping for different.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex had known it would be difficult to be ringside for this match. But, sixteen minutes into it, she hadn’t realized it would be this difficult.

PAC laid on his back, staring up at the lights courtesy of a bridging deadlift suplex into a pin attempt from Kenny. So, with him taken care of for the moment, Kenny turned his attention to Orange. He pulled his right kneepad down, and Alex had to stop herself from watching through her fingers as he kneed Orange hard in the face, once, and then again. She could feel the eyes of the fans at ringside watching her with keen interest, trying to gauge her reactions. They’d been shocked to see her come out with Kenny, and now her presence provided them with an extra layer of entertainment. At least Chuck, Trent, and Kris weren’t at ringside, too; they’d walked Orange out and promptly disappeared backstage. Alex didn’t know what she would have done if they’d stayed.

Kenny backed toward the ropes, aiming to deliver a third and final V-Trigger. But before he could, Orange held up his hands as if to tell him “stop.” And then he plunged them into his pant pockets and fell facedown onto the mat.

Kenny laughed, but he couldn’t care less. He walked over and started to pick Orange up; but then a revived PAC grabbed him and hit him with a hard forearm. They traded blows and kicks in the middle of the ring until Orange suddenly intervened and hit Kenny with a Michinoku Driver. However, Kenny rolled away and PAC hit Orange with a brainbuster. He covered him, but Orange thankfully kicked out at two.

Alex put her hand on Kenny’s shoulder as he laid underneath the ropes, halfway out of the ring. “Are you alright?”

But he didn’t answer her question. Instead, he said, “Go get one of my belts.”

She looked back at him in confusion. “What?”

“Go get one of my belts in case.”

Alex blinked and shook her head. She could not believe what he was asking her to do. “What? No, Kenny, I’m not doing that. You don’t need—”

But he rolled away, back underneath the ropes into the ring. PAC and Orange were in a precarious position on the top turnbuckle closest to them. It looked like PAC was trying to execute a superplex—but Kenny jumped up and shoved PAC off-balance, causing Orange to tumble from his grip and bounce off the ring apron to the floor. Alex started to check on him—but then she remembered she wasn’t out there for him and stopped short. She ran her hands over her hair, helpless. Inwardly hoping that he was alright.

Meanwhile, PAC had reversed Kenny’s attempt at a One-Winged Angel from the top turnbuckle and sent him sailing across the ring via a sunset flip powerbomb. They stood atop the opposite turnbuckle now, and Alex’s eyes widened in horror when PAC delivered an avalanche Falcon Arrow. But then, Orange suddenly scrambled back into the ring, tossed PAC out, and hooked Kenny’s leg. Every single person packed into Daily’s Place jumped from their seats as Bryce Remsburg slid to the mat and started to count. Kenny barely kicked out before three. Alex leaned her elbows on the ring apron, her head in her hands. That had been way too close.

All around her the fans started chanting, “That was three!” booming in her ears, and she bit down on her jaw. Kenny rolled out of the ring and stumbled over to her. For some reason, she already knew what for.

“Alex, go get one of my belts,” he said again. It was an order, not a question. But she stood her ground.

“No! I’m not helping you win like that!”

He let out a frustrated huff. “Baby, now’s not the time to argue about this. Just go get—”

She cut him off with a gasp as PAC came flying over the top rope headed straight for them. Kenny shoved her out of the way at the last second, taking all the impact himself and getting knocked to the floor. PAC, meanwhile, sprung back up and to the top turnbuckle. He slowly stood—and when Alex saw him jump into the air and perform the Black Arrow, she knew she had just seconds to act. She jumped over Kenny and rounded the turnbuckle as PAC hooked Orange’s leg. And just before Bryce could count three, she grabbed Orange’s boot and put it on the bottom rope.

Bryce stopped the count and pointed at Orange’s foot, none the wiser to what had happened. The fans, on the other hand, showered Alex with thunderous boos. Realizing what she’d done, PAC turned and shot her a glower that seemed almost inhuman. But she just pursed her lips and raised her chin in defiance.

Kenny pulled himself up by the ropes and ducked back into the ring, grinning like the cat that caught the canary, and the match went on, back and forth between him and PAC—until Orange scored another near-fall after he hit Kenny with a frantic Beach Break. PAC then tried for a Liger Bomb on Orange, but he fought out of it and landed a hard Orange Punch across his jaw, dropping him to the mat. Then he gave one to Kenny, and the crowd came unglued.

Orange fed off their energy, pumping himself up as PAC staggered to his feet. He hit another Orange Punch and went for the pin. Time seemed to stop as Alex watched, her heart in her throat and her hands on her head. She didn’t want Kenny to lose at all, let alone like this. But just as Bryce started the count, Don appeared out of nowhere and pulled him from the ring by his ankles.

Alex stood frozen to her spot as Bryce and Don yelled at each other, and she fully expected the former to expel the latter from ringside—but he didn’t. He simply got back in the ring, and the match continued. Don walked toward Alex, straightening his suit jacket. “Good work putting Orange’s foot on the ropes,” he said to her.

She didn’t say anything in return. She didn’t want a compliment from the likes of him.

Back in the ring, Kenny had been knocked to the floor once again—and PAC had the Brutalizer locked on Orange. When Kenny finally made it back through the ropes, he kicked PAC in the face once, twice. But he didn’t let go of his hold on Orange. So instead, Kenny made the desperate decision to hit Bryce with a hard double axe handle to the back.

The crowd booed, and Alex hid her face in her hands. “Come on, Ken…” she breathed. Not like this.

Meanwhile, Don took the initiative to do what Kenny had been asking Alex to do all along. He grabbed the Impact Championship from the timekeeper’s area and tossed it to Kenny in the ring. Kenny caught it, and then he turned and clocked PAC over the head. He dropped like dead weight to the mat, and Kenny tossed the belt aside, the fans still booing all the while.

But apparently, one belt wasn’t enough.

Don tossed in the Triple A Mega Championship next, and as PAC staggered to his feet, Kenny hit him again. Then he threw in the TNA World Heavyweight Championship. Alex had to bite her lip to keep from shouting at Kenny to stop. She looked away just before he hit PAC a third time.

Finally, Don handed Kenny the AEW World Championship. He took it and held it high above his head, gloating, reveling in the crowd’s hatred. Somehow, PAC was still moving, trying to stay in the match. But just as he climbed to his feet for a third time, Kenny hit him again and knocked him down for good.

Kenny held the championship up again, parading around the ring. He didn’t notice Orange darting toward him until it was too late. He laid him out with another Orange Punch across the jaw.

Orange crawled toward Kenny, obviously going for the pin; but Bryce was still down from Kenny’s earlier attack. However, it didn’t matter. As soon as he draped himself across Kenny’s chest, Aubrey ran down to the ring. Alex grabbed her own throat as she counted.

One.

Two—

But unexpectedly, Kenny reversed the pin and rolled Orange’s shoulders to the mat in a crucifix. Aubrey counted again.

One.

Two.

Three.

That was it. The bell rung, and Kenny’s music started. Alex let out a breath. He’d won by the skin of his fucking teeth.

She and Don both rushed to Kenny’s side as Justin Roberts officially announced him the winner. He clutched his jaw, and somehow his left hand had been sliced open. “What happened?” she asked, looking over the blood on his fingers with concern. But he wasn’t able to answer her before they were suddenly swarmed by both the Young Bucks and the Good Brothers. Matt and Nick practically pushed her aside as they congratulated Kenny, and Nick and Karl Anderson put an arm each over their shoulders and helped him up the steps to the entrance ramp. And as they all celebrated, reveling in Kenny’s stolen victory, Alex felt a sourness curdle at the back of her throat.

She was in love with Kenny. He’d come to mean the world to her over the last nine months. But she hadn’t signed up for this world.

[samwrights]

Two Little Lines

Let’s just keep playing around with the pregnancy/baby theme, shall we? 😂😈 it’s going to be on the fluffier side, however, we are gonna sprinkle in some very mild NSFW. And we got real angsty with Kenma and we’re just gonna make em all real long. Sorry this took me a few days to do!

Kenma;

Let’s be honest, Kenma would be the cautious one that would more so plan for pregnancy.

Life’s going great for Kenma—great job, cushy life, hot wife??? How did he get so lucky?

Cause he’s cute af that’s how

He was finally ready to add another player to the party.

However, life can’t always be perfect and apparently neither can the two of you trying for a baby.

For the last year and a half now, Friday nights were your thing. No streaming, no work, no phone calls. You and Kenma—that’s it. And while he definitely had become very explorative in that time, every negative pregnancy test was wearing his drive down.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that Kenma isn’t a fan of going to the doctor, even to check on how his little swimmers are doing. “If it’s not meant to be, we’ll find another way.” But you could tell it was breaking his heart a little bit.

Frisky Friday’s became fragile Friday’s, in which the two of you really just cuddled in bed together, fireplace lit, and talked about hopeful dreams of finally having a child together, until one of you hopefully got in the mood.

Shit, this whole ordeal was even making your marriage rough. Kenma had been so hard on himself lately that he could barely look at you, which caused you to start to feel insecure, causing the both of you to fight.

It’s Friday night. No streaming, no work, and no phone calls. That was how it was supposed to be. But instead, Kenma is naked in bed atop the comforter, playing with his switch.

It’s pissing you off.

“I don’t know what you wanna do anymore, Kenma. Do you even want a family? Do you even want to be with me anymore?”

“Why would you even say that?” It’s Friday night. The two of you are supposed to be hanging out in bed, naked and just being together, not picking fights with each other. But since that seems to be the case, you see Kenma flush with anger.

“Maybe because you’re playing Animal Crossing instead of looking at me??” Your husband sighs before putting his switch on the night stand before taking down the loose knot that his hair typically resides in. He’s anxious. “You’re acting like I’m not upset about this too.”

As you’re talking to him, you cautiously clamber over him, your face filled with raw emotion. And, after being married for the better half of a decade, you can see what he’s feeling. Failure, distress, and pain were only the start of it. “Please, Kenma. One more time, and we’ll start looking at other options.”

Apparently one more time was all it took, according to the three pregnancy tests you’d taken a month later. Seeing those two little lines on one of the tests that your husband had bought in bulk sent your heart into palpitations. You were going to be a mom.

Kenma comes home from work that Friday—you decided to surprise him. “What do you want to do tonight Kenma?”

??? “Honey, it’s Friday. Don’t we usually...” he stops. Either you were giving up on trying, which you two would have discussed, or... “wait, you don’t mean...”

Holding up the positive pregnancy test, you begin to cry. Kenma does too.

“Baby Kozume has joined the party.”

Kuroo;

Only the two of you would get pregnant while having an IUD implant. Literally, that was just your luck. But it was still possible.

Which you had yet to tell Kuroo—at the moment you were thankful the two of you weren’t cohabitating yet because you were able to hide your unbearable morning sickness.

You were at least waiting to see your doctor to have your IUD removed before telling him, mostly out of fear but also because, if he did notice your morning sickness, you could pawn it off as symptoms of the removal.

You hoped that this wouldn’t take too long or as be as painful as it was going in, but then again you were going to be pushing a human out in nearly 8 months.

It’s a Wednesday afternoon; Kuroo has already finished classes for the day while you’re still out at your appointment. He did have a key to your appointment, but it was strange that you weren’t home considering you didn’t have classes.

He wasn’t gonna call you out on it though—Kuroo trusted you. Instead, he opted to just rummaging around your apartment, cleaning up dishes that were left standing in the sink and making lunch for the two of you.

The minute you walked through your door, the smell of his cooking wafted through the air and absolutely did not agree with you or the baby’s sense of smell. “Fuck,” you grit out before bolting to the bathroom to hurl.

??? = Kuroo.

“Babe? You okay?” Your response was more vomiting, which was apparent both by sound and by visual—you hadn’t even closed the door to the bathroom and Kuroo got to witness the scene clear as day.

In comfort, Kuroo rubs your lower back in an attempt to coax the remaining bile from your body. Disturbing, was the only way Kuroo could describe it, considering you rarely ever puked. In the last six years of dating, he’s only seen it once while you drunk.

When the nausea finally passed, Kuroo cleaned your face up with a warm rag before sitting you on his knee while he sat at the edge of the tub. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“That, actually.”

“What?” Kuroo’s a smart guy, however it took him a few minutes to decipher your two word puzzle. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, I was gonna tell you today, actually. I just had to go get my IUD removed.” For a moment he’s stunned—the IUD was supposed to be nearly foolproof. But nearly is the key word.

“Babe, you’re pregnant! Holy shit, I gotta call Kenma and Bo and tell them they’re gonna be uncles!” 💀💀💀

“Sooo, you’re okay with it...?” After all, there was a reason you had chosen to go with an IUD after your guys’ last pregnancy scare two years ago.

After all, being a freshman in college wasn’t necessarily an ideal time to start a family.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He balks.

“Because we’re college students that still have another year to graduate?” You deadpan as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“And? Now we’re gonna be married college graduates with little baby Kuroo.” M a r r i e d?

“I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself, Tetsu.”

“What, you don’t wanna marry me?” For a minute, his face contorts with...confusion? Sadness? Anger? A myriad of all the above? “I’ve wanted to marry you since high school.”

“Is this a proposal?”

“The rings been in my gym bag since senior year.”

Akaashi;

Akaashi Keiji, contrary to popular opinion, was a real romantic.

Even as college students, while your focus should be on your studies, Akaashi never slacked on making you feel special and loved. He knew it, you knew it, and your poor neighbors that shared the wall between your bedrooms knew it.

Kinda made it awkward when the two of you would leave for class and you’d meet your neighbors’ eyes in the apartment hallway. But ya know, it is what it is.

Honestly, it’s too challenging not to go at it every day when your boyfriend is the sweetest, most endearing human to walk the planet.

But enough gushing about Akaashi. Four years into your relationship, you had never felt so off in your life. The last three weeks, all you wanted to do was sleep and eat, you couldn’t focus on anything at all. You couldn’t even have sex with Akaashi.

You know, your wonderful partner that you literally boned everyday? Yeah.

It felt like a permanent, three week PMS for a period that never came. Not that that was entirely abnormal for you—intense amounts of stress can throw off your menstrual cycle and stress was certainly no stranger to you.

But no. You knew your body and you knew it well. Something was wrong.

Just in case things went awry, you scheduled a doctor’s appointment with Keiji’s knowledge. After all, it could very well be nothing and there was no point in causing your man to worry.

“Miss, were you aware that you’re nearly six weeks pregnant?” 💀💀💀 obviously not, doc.

Not entirely convinced, whether because you’re a tad dense or because you really just don’t want to believe the doctor, you swing by a local drug store to grab a test. Just in case, like somehow the doctor would be wrong.

Thankfully, you get home before Akaashi is back from work for the evening, giving you the privacy of seeing your results with your own eyes. Even though you literally could go look at the results and notes from your doctors visit, but ya know.

You don’t even know how long you sat on the floor of your shared bathroom, just staring at the two little lines. You didn’t even realize Akaashi came home.

He calls your name, at first not necessarily concerned that the only light in the apartment was peeking from under the bathroom door. But with no answer, he calls out your name again. No answer. “Honey, is it okay if I come in?”

“Y-yeah?” You aren’t really sure how to answer. How the hell was Akaashi going to react? You guys didn’t have time for a kid?? You’re completely zoned out, staring blankly at the bathtub in front of you. Lowkey, you’re freaking out Akaashi.

Even more so when he sees your hand loosely cradling the pregnancy test—judging by your reaction, he knows what the result is. But he can’t think of anything to say, what is there even to say?

He’s not upset, no. Shocked? Obviously. Mad, not at all considering he’s just as much responsible. The “R” word is what triggers him.

Responsible, in the sense that in less than a year, the two of you were going to be parents. It swelled joy within him. While the two of still had yet to speak, Akaashi comes to your side, sliding down the wall to sit beside you before wrapping his arms around you.

“So, are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”

[supernatural-freek]

Heartbeat Highway

Dean x Sister!Reader, Sam x Sister!Reader

Synopsis: I have a little sister reader request. Could you do one where the reader has a heart condition and has to go to the cardiologist for her yearly check up? And the reader hates going because she feels like she’s not normal because of it. And the brothers comfort her through the entire appointment/tests. I personally have Pulmonary Atresia so if that could be the condition the reader has that’ll be great.

NOTE: If anything about this is wrong, I apologise. I did some research, but I don’t have the medical condition, so I may have gotten some things wrong.

REQUESTED

MASTERLIST

.

You’ve never been more terrified to go to a clinic.

Well, okay, maybe terrified isn’t the word for it. Because you aren’t scared. You’re actually stuffed full of loathing, and loathing doesn’t equal fear. Loathing is much more fun. Loathing is what makes you dig your heels in before your older brothers could usher you inside.

Dean sighs. “Y/N, come on. You were doing so well.”

“I’m not going in,” you say stubbornly, wrapping your arms around your torso and scowling. “C’mon, let’s just turn around and go back to the Bunker-”

Sam’s hand claps down onto your shoulder, pushing you forward another step. “You’ve gotta go in, bub.”

“I don’t want to.”

“We know.” Dean’s voice is gentler this time. “But you can’t skip this check up. Your condition isn’t something we can treat lightly, okay?”

Your frown deepens, but you’re no match for your brothers. Sam herds you forward a few more steps while Dean ducks inside to get you checked in. Once you’ve checked in, you know there’s no escape. “Why couldn’t Cas just heal me?” You grumble.

Sam’s sigh is sadder than Dean’s, stretched thin by years of clinics and doctors and that one memorable time you had to go to hospital in the back of an ambulance. “You know he’s tried,” Sam says. “You know he can’t fix something that was wrong when you were born.”

“He can fix Dean.”

“We both know that’s not the same.”

No it isn’t. And it’s not fair of you to put the blame on Cas. You know your condition isn’t something that can be treated with a flick of his fingers. You just wish it didn’t mean you had to be poked and prodded at every check up, wish you didn’t have to be careful about your blood pressure or monitor your breathing, or be careful not to sleep too much.

You let Sam lead you inside, finding Dean in the waiting room. It’s dangerous, having your brothers both here given that most of your family members are considered murderers and criminals, but it’s like Sam and Dean said.

You can’t just not go to the check up, and the only way to have the check up is to be yourselves.

Legally.

“See?” Dean says when you sit down next to him. “Nothing scary here.”

“I’m not scared of the clinic,” you shoot back under your breath. eyes flicking over the other couple of people in the waiting room. “I just hate being here.”

Sam sits next to you, his overly large frame swallowing up the tiny seat. It’s almost funny. “Why? You never used to mind when we were younger. Is it because Dad isn’t here any more?”

Ah, John. To his credit, the man had been dutiful with your medicine and monitoring your physical well being. He hadn’t let you hunt for years. He’d taken you to every check up. He’d cared. 

But once that demon had come back, and he’d taken off and left you with Dean, the invisible injury didn’t exist.

“This isn’t about John,” you say lowly. “And I would appreciate it if you kept your assumptions to yourself until you know what you’re talking about.”

Sam’s knee knocks against your in a wordless apology.

You legs twitches and jumps while you wait, belying your nerves. Dean and Sam are both content to just sit, but you can’t stop fidgeting. It’s not like you have to be here. You had the operation as a baby. You should be fine. You haven’t had any incidents.

You’re fine.

“Y/N Winchester?”

You jerk at the sound of your name, startling both of your brothers in the process. "Christ Y/N,” Dean hisses. “Tryna give me a damn heart attack?”

Sam reaches over and whacks him in the back of the head before you can respond.

The cardiologist runs a critical eye over the three of you before nodding and leading you down the hallway. You follow silently, pressing your hands to your stomach and pushing back into Dean’s space. His hands settle on you shoulders gently, steering you into the room and then lowering you into the seat.

The cardiologist clears his throat and smiles. “Hello Y/N.”

You manage a small, “Hi.”

“You’ve come in for your yearly check up?” The cardiologist, whose name tag reads Jameson, clicks rapidly on his mouse, eyes darting across the computer screen. “Yes, it says here you were born with Pulmonary Artesia, is that correct?”

“Yes sir.”

Jameson hums, clicking some more. Dean’s fingers settle on top of your head and you lean into his side where he stands. “Now, your file says you had a surgical correction procedure done, but you were in hospital for laboured breathing, dizziness and sleepiness a few months ago.”

Sam inhales slowly. “The hospital cleared her though, said she was alright.”

Jameson nods. “Yes, her records say that she shouldn’t be in any particular danger. You were both present during her time in care, yes?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “And we were right there when she went through all the tests.”

“They said it was because her heart was beating too quickly,” Sam adds, glancing down at you. “Her body couldn’t keep up with the adrenaline and blood flow.”

“I see,” says Jameson and then he starts desperately clicking again.

You lean harder into Dean, biting your lip to stop it wobbling. You don’t like Jameson, don’t like how disinterested he is, how dismissive. He seems like the kind of doctor who’ll put you through more tests just because that’s something he can do, and then he’ll send you on your way.

Dean gently runs his hand down your hair. The tension in your shoulders eases only slightly.

“Doc, not for nothing, but my sister really hates these check ups. Do we have to be here long?” 

Sam shoots his brother an irritated look, but Dean simply looks down at you in answer. Sam’s face tightens in understanding.

Jameson stops clicking and stands, a bland smile on his face. You shrink back into Dean. “Her records say she doesn’t need any tests, so I’ll just take her blood pressure and check her heart beat, and she should be good to go.”

Thank fucking god.

You sit still and silent as Jameson does his thing, trying desperately to keep your eyes on the poster of a cartoon woman and her sick baby. You hate this, you hate this, you hate this. It’s one of the easiest check ups, but you hate it.

You shouldn’t have to go to check ups. You shouldn’t have to be so careful with your life. You shouldn’t have to pull your brothers into this too. This isn’t their problem. They don’t need this extra weight on their shoulders.

“One more thing,” Jameson says once he’s entered his results into the computer. “Y/N, you aren’t doing anything in your day-to-day activities that may cause you to feel overly stressed or anxious?”

Dean and Sam very suddenly seem to find the posters on the walls rather interesting.

You manage a tight smile. “No, doctor.”

Jameson returns the look. “Okay then. Have a great afternoon.”

.

The Impala rumbles to a halt on the side of some nowhere, backwater road where the trees are taller than most mountains. You’re in the front, like you usually are after appointments, and Dean is driving. Sam is in the back, headphones in and eyes closed.

“Spit it out,” Dean says once the Impala is turned off. 

You frown at the dash. “What?”

“Each year, you get more and more upset about your appointments.” Dean squints at you. “Tell me why.”

“You’re seriously quoting Back Street Boys at me right now?”

“Y/N.”

You sigh, looking down at your hands and you twists your fingers around each other. You’d hoped you could avoid this talk, like you do usually, but Dean seems strangely insistent on talking about it. God this family sucks sometimes.

Sam stirs in the backseat before you answer, taking his headphones out and blinking at the both of you. “What’s up?” He says blurrily, yawning hard enough to crack his jaw.

Dean never takes his eyes off of you. “Sis is about to tell us why she hates her appointments so much.”

“I don’t hate the appointments.”

“That’s not what it looked like from where I was sitting.”

“Dean...”

“I just want a simple answer.”

You lick your lips, a nervous tick you developed when you were three that never went away. It’s a fair question, and they deserve the answer, but it’s hard, okay? It’s hard to admit that there’s something wrong with you as a person, that there’s something fundamentally flawed.

Sam leans forward. “Y/N,” he says gently. “There’s nothing wrong with you, you know that right?”

Dean blows out a breath. “Is that what this is?” You flinch, but he doesn’t sound mad. He just sounds so very sad. “Baby girl, your condition isn’t a flaw or a problem. It’s just a part of who you are.”

“Then I’m broken,” you say miserably, splaying your hands slightly. “Okay? I’m not normal.”

“Normal is overrated,” Dean says fiercely. You scoff and start to turn away, but he leans over and pushes on you cheek insistently until you’re looking at him again. “No, Y/N, you listen to me. This doesn’t make you broken, or bad, or unnatural. This doesn’t make you a bad thing. You’ve seen bad things. You’ve seen monsters. You’re not one of them.”

“But I’m not a hunter.”

“You’re our sister,” Sam says softly. “That’s good enough for me.”

[theravenclawmonster]

I thought getting diagnosed would be able to get me help...(post 1 of dunno how many)

Trigger warning: This post (and the later continuation posts after it titled the same) may contain mentions of abuse, mental illness, suicidal thoughts and many more things which i will try to edit in it after writing the post(s) (hopefully i’ll remember to)

Disclaimer: this is just a written account of events that happened in my life in the past few weeks and my emotional/ physical response to those events. I am writing this here so that it stays here as help for people to read and maybe see what certain things feel like, and as proof or diary for when i forget what really happened and start to believe her words. Also, this is going to be a long post... a very long post.

So, i thought getting diagnosed would maybe help me... A couple of weeks ago, i realized that my heart has been beating a bit faster than what i remembered it used to and my blood pressure would get low. Of course like every other pain or issue ever, i tried to first ignore it and act it out (trying to look fine) but you see, with low BP i really couldn’t act okay. My brain would go numb, i would feel like my brain was pushing me (the consciousness or me in my brain) towards the top of my forehead forcing me into my skull from inside; everything else felt numb. I couldn’t really speak or even think, all words were slurred if i tried my hardest. My body moved very slowly, i couldn’t even raise a finger in the normal speed (even in front of my parents, in front of who i never ever show if i am in pain or ill. but until then i had hid it pretty well by going to my room or just not letting them see me that much). By this time i didn’t know what was happening and episodes like this continued for 3 or 4 days, until one day i remembered that i should check my blood pressure as my heart feels like drowning (it was around 90 and 65 and pulse more than 110). Now, as someone whose blood pressure has always been around 110/70, i got a bit scared; i didn’t know if it was okay to have it this low or not and i wasn’t feeling okay at all. Anyway, it dropped a bit more and my mother noticed me (until then i was completely wiped out, had no strength to even be present in my body let alone act okay. i continuously felt like if i closed my eyes i’d slip away and never come back.

My mother told me to get up and have some ORS (some sort of salts and electrolytes thingy used in dehydration etc) and eat bananas. after some time my heart felt a bit fine and my BP rose up to 105 and something. But i felt exhausted, as if i had fought a war with my bare hands. I couldn’t even ask them to take me to a doctor and after this episode was over she suggested it very ummm... very angrily... so i stayed quiet. Later my sister (married) texted me and said that Mom will get an appointment for her general physician tomorrow for you. She obviously had talked to my mother on the phone and knew all about it (or at least as much as my mother decided to tell her). The next day she took the appointment which was for almost 2 weeks later (only time available). throughout the days leading up to that she told me that i’d feel fine and we’d not even need to go to the doc.

finally, the day arrived. My mother had been telling me to write things to show the doc, my symptoms and stuff, but i couldn’t write anything. I wrote this on a paper 9in a slow child-like handwriting:

1. Pain everywhere

    Tired

    Breathe (referring to difficulty in breathing but i couldn’t write the whole sentence)

the day i went to the doctor i added “ fog/ Quick sand” to the list wanting to say that i feel like i am in a fog/ quick sand as everything including my body and my brain function becomes very slow and delayed.

I didn’t take that paper to the doctor (well, that exquisitely written note wasn’t very helpful). I had decided beforehand that i’d somehow send my mother out and talk to the doctor in private as my emotionally abusive and controlling mother makes me unable to function like a normal human being. It took me days to prepare myself to say that. I also took all my history with me from the beginning of the year. Below is the brief history:

[ I had a very bad chest infection right after chicken pox (at the start of this year, yes great start to a great year 2020), I had to get a chest x-ray in which Scoliosis (bending of spine) showed up. According to the doctors and my family, as it was an incidental finding, it was asymptomatic and therefore needed no treatment or even a brace. No one cared to pay attention to what i said or how i felt as the fucking patient who actually dealt with a lot of back and shoulder and literally almost every kind of bone pain, and for whom the discovery of scoliosis was an answer to a lot.] Anyway, back to the regular rant.

so we went to the doctor. As i sat outside waiting for my turn, i practised again and again about how to ask to be diagnosed in private and not making my mother mad. first, my mother’s turn arrived and she told me to go in with her and remember what doctor tells her for her diabetes and acidity issues. After she was done... (i am getting a bit hazy here) i think the doctor brought up my scoliosis (i went to him in the beginning of the year and he referred me to an osteopath or someone) he talked about how he discussed my case with his colleague and he advised me to go to another hospital in another city for they have a specific department for things like scoliosis. After he said it all and looked at me expectantly to start telling him why i was there, i told my, mother if she can leave, she laughed embarrassed and acted like ha ha sweety i won’t disturb you go on ahead. but i repeated it a couple more times ( i think my tone was pretty dry, but i am not sure as i couldn’t really regulate anything at that time).

She left. then the doctor asked me about my health and i started to explain, except i couldn’t find the right words and forgot everything and just burst into tears. he patiently offered me tissues and waited for my answer. I explained somewhat. i don’t really remember the symptoms i explained, just that i felt fake and weird as if it all wasn’t really happening or i was faking everything and don’t know why the hell i kept bawling my eyes out, i was fine!! stop crying and making a scene. I was also inwardly thankful that my mother wasn’t in the room as i have had a similar experience of crying in front of a doctor and she taunted me about it for months calling me fake and attention seeking and a liar. Anyway, here is a list of what i told the doctor (from what i can remember):

- i feel like i am always holding myself up tightly, if i let go i’d fall. My muscles all feel seized up

-I have difficulty in breathing, i can’t breathe deeply for years. and before it was connected to emotional issues but now its almost all day everyday.

-As because of scoliosis my ribcage is a bit twisted so if i bent over my left ribs dig into my stomach area and it is quite painful if my stomach is full, if i have gained weight or if i have gas.

-my ankles feel swollen on the inside and walking is painful, my heels hurt and the top of my foot and the pain goes all the way up to my pelvic bone and back. My back hurts all the fucking time.

-My knees hurt so much that i have not been able to put my weight on my left knee for more than a week now (it has been hurting in the past as well) and now my body had developed a weird habit of walking up the stairs without putting pressure on left knee at all, which has in turn made my right knee tired and painful.

- I can’t really feel hungry. like if i don’t eat for a long time i’d feel that painful hunger in my stomach but i have no desire to eat and i keep forgetting about it. even when i try to eat i look at food and recoil in a little, i can’t eat it usually or at least like i use to ( I loved food more than almost anything ever, with only some foods that i couldn’t eat). and even after i eat (usually only when i eat something with wheat in it) my stomach swells up a round and painful (which is even more painful when the ribs dig into it.

-My jaw feels stiff and my teeth and gums hurt as if i have been clenching my jaw (which i do catch myself doing quite often)

-oh! i actually started out with saying that i can’t really hold up my neck some of the time (like a baby), and it keep falling around if i relax, it was happening right then too. then i cried. i also mentioned something about my bones painfully feeling like they’ll fuse into each other (if i lie on my side sometimes i feel like both sides of my ribcage will collapse into each other

This was all i could remember then and i think there might be more that i told him but i don’t remember it rn

The doctor asked me things in return. he asked me about my sleep which i told him i can’t sleep. I have been a person who’d sleep 7- 8 hours a night and then also take a nap in the day. I love to sleep, i could always sleep, no matter what happened. If i had cramps, migraine, back pain, emotional abuse, my favorite character died, tired, bored anything; I’d sleep it off. But now, no matter when o lie down, firstly, i am in too much pain to be comfortable in any position, it takes hours to fall asleep and no more fun daydreaming before sleep too. and then i wake up even more exhausted somehow.

He checked my BP and breathing ( i couldn’t breathe properly maybe because of crying) and stomach softness. My BP was 135/95 which i contributed to the car ride (i have car anxiety... dunno what it is but i get super anxious and panicky in a car especially with my family) but he said it could be because you just cried so much.

so, then he said that you are too stressed and your neurons are constantly firing cuz pain both emotional and physical. (he was talking for quite some time but i don’t remember what he said) he said most of it seems to be mental but upon my request he did give a few tests (one in particular expensive one for some muscle disease or something) then he referred me to a psychiatrist. he also asked me to write down my symptoms as the more i tell the doctor the better they can diagnose. then i got out and told my mother the diagnosis and referral. she went in to the office herself and talked to him for some time.

So, we had the tests done (with my father making it a point to say loudly how expensive was one of them in particular) and got an appointment for the psychiatrist. Also said that i have some stomach acidity and gave medicine for that

this seems like a huge post so i am thinking about making another one for that session and the later drama, hopefully before i forget

part two can be found here

[yaboymercury]

Ripping 9 to 5 - Doctor

(Re upload since the original was flagged for the pic)

Joe liked his usual doctor he was low energy, understanding and old which meant he was never usually stressed about going for appointment’s. But according to receptionist he’d retired and now he had no choice but ‘Dr Wright’ who had only just finished Med school and this was his first proper job.

It was only one of the last physio sessions for Joe’s recovery from his now-healed broken ankle but it was a pain it was with a new doctor.

His slightly anxious train of thought was interrupted by the receptionist saying that Dr Wright was ready for him.

Joe stood in front of the doctor’s door wondering if he should open it and if he did what he would say and generally overthinking the entire situation. But right as his hand grasped the door knob it was pulled forwards from the other side and with his still faulty angle he collapsed forwards through the entryway.

Fortunately for Joe he fell on something warm and quite quickly to momentarily break his fall. Unfortunately for both of them they both fell backwards onto the floor of the office on top of eachother.

“Shit, as if my first my first day couldn’t get any worse” Joe heard the stern voice mumbling as he blinked opening his eyes. Looking down the other man he couldn’t help but be stunned by him, his golden hair messed up by the fall still looked amazing, and his lips parted groaning in the pain from the fall seemed almost inviting.

But Joe had to get a grip. He was on top of the man who was supposed to be helping him. And with a jolt of pain from his ankle his moaned which unintentionally reminded the doctor of his presence.

“Oh crap sorry this is very unprofessional of me…” The doctor got out from under Joe and stood up brushing himself off and fixing his hair with one hand and offering the other to Joe on the floor “Let me help you up, especially since I probably just worsened your condition” He asked while bending down and giving Joe and apologetic smile.

How managed to get off the floor with the help of the man who introduced himself as Doctor Wright who when standing next to him he realised had an imposing physique standing a bit taller than him but his shoulders jutted out wider and his arms were massive.

Before they could get back into business a blast of freezing air came in through the wide open window making Joe shiver. It was the middle of winter and it was a cold day making Joe question the doctors sanity. His puzzled look at the window was noticed by the Doctor who again apologized explaining:

“Yeah it was getting quite stuffy in here and my last patient had some complaints so I had to open it, that didn’t stop him from leaving though”

“Why did he leave?” Joe asked a bit worried at the legitimacy of the doctor.

“Oh no nothing really that bad I think he just needed fresh air” He said with an embaressed smile scratching the back of his head. The doctor was so damn charming that it erased any doubt in Joe’s mind and just left him blushing.

After closing the windows Wright offered Joe a seat opposite him “Again sorry about all the informalities, let’s just help I can help your ankle”

“Don’t worry I’m sure you can do anything to help..” Joe trailed away not sure what he was saying and worried he was coming on too strong luckily the doctor ignored this.

He continued explaining all they had to do were a few stretches to help train the muscles. The bad news was that the stretches would be guided by the doctor, meaning a lot of physical contact, which Joe wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle.

“Okay so the first one is easy” He was standing in front of Joe but facing away, this was his first time noticing the doctor’s ass which was seemingly barely being held back by his work trousers which only helped emphasise the shape of his ass. One of his legs was now on the bed surface and he was stretching to his side, but all Joe could look at was how it contorted his ass and how amazing it looked when it moved.

“So do you get it?” Joe’s fantasy was interrupted and the doctor turned around to face the spaced out man. Joe had completely forgotten the stretch but instead of reprimanding him the Doctor only smiled and said “Okay that’s fine let me guide you through it”

Before Joe could even splutter out a response the doctor was behind him holding his waist in one hand and his inner thigh in the other. It was so intimate, Joe was practically being grinded on by how closer the doctor’s bulge was to his ass.

“Hah sorry about how close this is guess I should tell you I’m James by the way, always polite to at least tell them your name first” Oh god he was making sex jokes at a time like this, Joe was beginning to sweat as all he could do was force out a chuckle at the doctor who was practically groping him.

“Okay now I’m just going to raise your left leg onto the bed slowly and stabilise you with my other hand securely on your waist” Joe’s leg began to rise easily but as he did he realised a familiar feeling in his ass it was full of gas , shit shit shit, he couldn’t let it out now, not like this. His panic increased as his leg got onto the bed.

“Doc are you sure you need to show me all this I think my ankle is feeling fine actually?” Joe asked quickly.

“Hah yeah you’re funny, I like funny guys, but no I saw your x-rays your going to need all the stretches you can get” What the hell does he mean by he likes funny guys, is he gay as well? Joe knew he could worry about that now the James was pushing his waist so his upper body stretched towards his leg only straining Joe’s asshole more to try and hold it in.

But it couldn’t.

Prrrrrrrrrrrrt

It was an obvious clear sound followed quickly by the stink of the beans on toast Joe had eaten for breakfast. Joe actually enjoyed the smell of his own brew but he doubted the doctor felt the same was, especially when it’s right on his crotch.

He tried to find words to express apology, to make an excuse, to lighten the situation. But all he could do was splutter. Joe even tried to scuff his foot on the floor to make a similar sound but the carpet was incapable of this and the smell was undeniable.

Facing the consequences he turned his head a little to meet the face of the doctor who still held his waist.

“Wheeew guess that comes with the territory pretty stinking though I’d give it a strong 6 put of 10” he said grinning at Joe.

Joe was shocked. Why wasn’t this man disgusted surely this situation would be embaressing for both of them. So why was the only thing Joe could think to say…

“Only a six?” he got out as he turned around to face the other man who seemingly refused to take his hands of his waist, feeling the warmth radiating from him made Joe blush a little more.

“Not to brag..” James said shaking his ass with one of his hands behind his back which Joe wished he got a better view of “..but I’m pretty much a gas machine, back in my dorm at uni they used to call me 'Dr Stink’ and I kinda lived up to that name”

Momentarily regretting all he had said the Doctor’s voice became a little more coy finishing his explanation “So again not to brag but that burst of yours pales in comparison…”

Both of them were left in silence with Joe being stunned by the apparently stinky Doctor’s reveal.

Still surrounded in the smell of Joe’s emission James decided to break the tension with an awkward smile saying “So let’s continue with the stretches!”

Again standing facing away from Joe with his entrancing ass on show he made a wide stance with his feet apart and looked back at him.

“So this one’s a little easier just a basic forwards stretch, now copy my stance and we’ll do it together”

Joe stood the only place he could fit in the modest office, right behind him. James began to bend down until he reached the ground as he did so his ass began to almost break the seems of his trousers trying to escape with part of his crack showing at the top. Joe had to try not to stare but it was the only thing in his line of sight.

“Like what you see?” James was looking back at Joe from in between his legs, he caught him staring. He asked the question light-heartedly but Joe knew his answer would have been yes. “Well anyway you need to copy the stretch so come on”

Joe had nothing else to do except follow not wanting to be more awkward. It wasn’t until he began to bend forward that he realised how close his face was getting to the Doctor’s amazing ass. When his face got as close to the butt as it could from bending he couldn’t help but look up at it, he couldn’t resist.

The moment he looked up.

BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPT

The air around his face shook, the force of the blast blew his hair since it was so close and he could feel the heat of it. Then the stink followed swiftly invading Joe’s senses with its rotten eggy stench.

“Ah I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist so I prepared a little punishment, oh and I also wanted to make sure you know that I live up to my title of 'Dr Stink’ after all.”

In his weak stance and so overpowered Joe’s legs gave out and he collapsed on the floor of the office coughing in the gas cloud which surrounded him.

Once again the doctor helped him off the ground and once again the doctor held his patient by the waist. James looked a little embaressed but mainly triumphant.

“I probably should have held back a bit more but at least you know what I can do” the doctor said winking at the patient in his hands.

Between coughs Joe managed to say “Yeah and it fucking reeks aren’t doctors supposed to make you healthier??” Joe managed to get out a smile with the last claim finding the humour in the situation.

Instead of laughing at the claim however he just smirked wrapping his hands around Joe’s wrists. “Well this doctor has noticed you staring at his ass and his ass had something to say about it” Smirking as he said the sentence he guided Joe’s hands to his ass so he could get a good feel.

Joe knew he should be more embaressed but all he could bring himself to do was grab at James’s ass. All room for rational thought had gone.

“I think by this point Joe we’ve moved past any pretence” in the middle of the sentence James let out a short fart on Joe’s hands which soon added to the stench surrounding the two. He pulled himself out of Joe’s arms and walked to the door locking it and then walked over to the window to shut the blinds. As he began to unbutton his shirt revealing his toned chest, he looked back to Joe and continued “You’ve been quite an unprofessional patient so I’m afraid this appointment will have to use some more extreme treatment”

Approaching closer to Joe who was getting more intimidated and aroused by the second he turned around in front of him and unzipped his trousers “It’s a treatment which I specifically specialise in and only I can cure your condition with”

He pulled his trousers slowly down letting his bare uncovered ass spill out in all it’s plentiful glory “That condition being the one barely held back by your underwear specifically”

Joe hadn’t even fully noticed the fact that his penis was completely stiff and easily visible in his jeans. He was lost for words and confused at what specifically about the situation was turning him on but before he could try and reason with him.

“So if we are going to continue with the procedure I’m going to need you to lie down on the bed so we can begin” Joe gulped at this knowing that whatever smelly treatment James gave him he wouldn’t be able to cope with it. He had a very sensitive nose and just one fart from the doctor nearly made him pass out. But he lost all rational thought when the barely clothed James grabbed his waist and began kissing his neck making his way up to his face and eventually on his mouth. It wasn’t the most romantic situation but the sensuality and intimacy overcame Joe as he gave in completely.

As they were kissing Joe managed to pull off his shirt and wriggle out of his trousers. Once he was only in his boxers James managed to lead him to the bed so he could fall back on it.

James bent over the bed so he could look down at the sprawled out man underneath him. Smiling down at Joe he teased him rubbing his bulge underneath the thin layer of fabric.

“I didn’t think I’d find a suitable sniffer on my first day so I’m shocked that a cute man like you would just stumble into my door and just let me start gassing him up.” In a quick flip of his leg James was straddling Joe with his ass over his chest and his erect dick pointing towards Joe’s underwear.

Backing his ass up closer to Joe’s face, Joe was getting more and more nauseated at the pure stench of his ass. The smell of stale farts drifted up his nostrils. Giving one last look back at him James winked “Hope you enjoy your prescription”

Then it smothered him James’s bare sweaty taint was on Joe’s face with his hole perfectly aligned with his nose.

FRRRRRRRRRRRRP

PPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRARP

BRAAAAAAAAAAAAP

The barrage seemed endless and the gas began intoxicating Joe’s brain clouding any sense he had leading him to mindlessly moan simultaneously for freedom but also for more.

Then Joe felt James start sucking on his dick getting him closer to the release he needed and also the stimulation of their bodies increased as James began writhing on top of him rubbing his cock on Joe’s chest for further stimulation for himself.

FRRRRRT

PRRRRRRRRT

BRRAAAAAAAPT

The farts became less long but more frequent and had more power behind them helped by the fact that with James’s thrusting his ass was now beating against Joe’s face.

PRAAAAAAAP

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPT

PHHHHHHHRT

The stink was becoming so overwhelming but the pleasure was as well. Joe’s thoughts were becoming clouded by the rotten stench of James’s gas.

PRRRRRRRRAPT

That last blast was enough to push him over the edge with its extra hot burst of sour smelling stench. He came in James’s mouth and moaned into his ass. Seconds after he felt warmth on his stomach and a muffled moan and triumphant laugh from above signalling that James had release as well.

He could barely hear it from under his ass but he could make out: “Just one more��.”

Fsssssssssssssssssssssssh

It was worse than anything else Joe had experienced and it all went straight up his nose singing his nose hair and the toxic stink pushed him over the edge. Passing out he all he experienced was the powerful stink, the heat on his face and the muffled sound of proud laughter.

Joe came to on the same bed but under a blanket and suitably cleaned up. The sun was setting reminding Joe of how much of the day he had lost. The room still had the faint stale stink of James’s gas proving it wasn’t all some crazy fever dream.

On the table next to him was a business card with a phone number next to 'Dr. James Wright’ on one side and some writing on the other.

'Patient seemed to react well to treatment but is under threat of facing repeat symptoms. Must report back at least weekly for repeat treatment and specific therapy’

It seemed to Joe that he was going to have to get used to his new prescription.

[what-happened-to-agent-georgia]

Home

Happy. Motherhecking. Angst War ( @rvbficwars). @riathedreamer I screamed when I got your prompt, and it consumed my entire week. So thank you. Her prompt:

“Grif and Simmons find out transplanted organs don’t last forever.”

Pairings: Grif/Simmons, background Kimbalina

Characters: Grif, Simmons, Grey, Kaikaina Grif, Sarge

Warnings: Major Character Death, hospital/medical stuff, angst (so much angst), canon-typical language (pleasssse let me know if you need me to put more warnings, I can do that no problem). 

Summary: Well... I mean. Grif and Simmons find out that transplanted organs don’t last forever. Also on Ao3.

##

Grif stares at Grey, and Grey stares back.

She’s waiting for him to say something, to react, but he’s still having trouble wrapping his brain around why he’s not surprised. But after a few moments, his lack of surprise makes more sense. It’s just the same shit, different day—bad luck follows him wherever he goes, how is today any different?

Drawn for the one-man draft, sole survivor of the massacre on his first outpost, landed with a shotgun-wielding maniac, caught up in a fake war—then caught up in a real one. The latest and greatest involved more Blue Team Drama™, but then, that seems to be the root of most of Grif’s problems these days.

So, when Grey tells him that his transplanted organs have started shutting down, Grif isn’t surprised so much as he feels this is just the rotten cherry on top of the fucked-up cake.

“That explains the recurring food poisoning,” Grif says. “Well, guess it wasn’t food poisoning.”

“Have you been sleeping more?” Grey asks. “Agitated? Anxious?”

“All the time,” Grif snorts. “Uh, but I have noticed I actually sleep more now.”

Grif likes to pretend he spends most of his time sleeping, but the truth of the matter is sleep means nightmares, and nightmares fucking suck, so he gets four hours a night if he’s lucky. Or, he did, until earlier this week, when he slept for twelve hours. And it wasn’t a tired feeling, but more of a heavy feeling.

The thing that brought him to Dr. Grey in the first place, though, was that he woke up this morning and forgot where he was for a good five minutes, forgot who the person lying next to him was.

“I see,” Grey says. “And how long have you been having episodes such as the one you had this morning?”

“Today was the first,” Grif says.

Grey taps something out on her data pad.

“So, what now?” Grif asks, wringing his hands.

Grey sets her data pad on her lap and purses her lips. Her cheery demeanor vanished long ago, replaced by a furrowed brow serious eyes. Grey is amazing at hiding her emotions, having been a doctor for so long, but Grif is no idiot. He grits his teeth and waits for her answer.

“You have time,” she begins, “I’d estimate two to three weeks.”

“Wait—can’t we just, like pull another mad doctor and make me part-cyborg? Like Simmons?” Grif asks.

“I’m afraid not,” Grey replies. She reaches up and takes her glasses off to massage her eyes and the bridge of her nose. “It’s a miracle you both survived the first procedure. Your body won’t be able to withstand another surgery of that caliber.”

“Well we can give it a fucking try, can’t we?” Grif snaps, rising to his feet. He sways a little, light-headed, but goes on, “What’ve I got to lose?”

“Time,” Grey says, voice level. She places her glasses back on her face and crosses her arms. “I don’t want to be unsympathetic, but I also need to be realistic, Captain Grif.

“And the reality is,” she continues, rising to her feet as well, “You will not survive surgery. Wouldn’t you rather spend the rest of the time you have with loved ones?”

Grif opens his mouth to say something then snaps it shut. Swallowing, he flops back down into his chair.

She’s right. He knows she’s right.

Grey lowers herself into her chair once more, starts talking about ways to make him more comfortable—antibiotics, supporting oxygenation, fluid resuscitation, lowering blood sugar—but the list is too long and Grif is much too tired. Why prolong the inevitable?

Before he’s even finished thinking the thought he knows why.

Simmons.

Fuck, Simmons is going to lose his shit.

“Is there a way to do all this stuff without anyone finding out?” Grif asks, interrupting Grey, who gives him a dirty look. It quickly shifts to confusion when she registers what he’s just said.

“I don’t mean to pry, but why don’t you want to tell anyone?” Grey asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t need everyone freaking out, okay?” Grif huffs. He crosses his arms. “It’ll make everything different, why tell anyone?”

Grey doesn’t say anything, and at first Grif thinks she’s going to lecture him. But she just lets out a long sigh.

“If that is your preference, I’ll see what I can do,” she says. “I’ll send you a message soon to set up an appointment.”

“Thanks.” Grif rises to his feet, more slowly this time, but he still feels a little off. He turns to leave the hospital room, eyes aching from the fluorescent lights reflecting off the white walls.

“Grif?” Grey calls as he reaches the door. Grif stops, waiting.

“There will come a point where it will be impossible to hide this,” she says.

Grif just nods and, shoving the door open, walks out to where Simmons is waiting for him.

“How’d it go?” he asks.

“Fine,” Grif dismisses, waving his hand. “Like I thought—food poisoning.”

 2

Grif spends the first day of the last week of his life with Kai. He’s afraid she’ll ask questions at first, but honestly, after being apart for so long, the only thing she wants to know is if Grif still likes cookies and cream ice cream.

The answer, of course, is “duh”.

“I like it here,” she says, shoving a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “It’sh happenin’.”

“It’s what?” Grif raises and eyebrow. He’s already finished with his ice cream and is contemplating seconds.

“Happening,” Kai repeats, swallowing. “I could totally open a club here, no problem.”

Grif is amazed at his little sister, how far she’s come, how much she’s accomplished. How Kai’s managed to stay this optimistic through everything she’s been through—even before Grif was shipped off to war—he’ll never know. Fuck, if she can have a successful business in the middle of a war, she can do anything.

He feels a surge of pride for Kai. He tries not to think about how he won’t ever see her Chorusian Night Club Empire.

“Just one?” he asks. “You could open at least fifty-seven.”

“Well, duh.” Kai rolls her eyes. “But not all at once, that’s shitty strategy. You can’t use a sex swing without a firm bar to hang it from.”

“Yeah,” Grif agrees. “Wait, what?”

After ice cream Grif trails along after Kai as she flutters from shop to shop, most of them barren in the aftermath of Chorus’s civil war, but he can practically see the gears turning in her head. Chorus is lucky to have Kai, she’ll make this a hotspot in no time.

When they’re finished in the shopping district, Kai is toting three bags—one with clothing, one with makeup, and one with boxing gloves.

“Lina said she’d teach me,” Kai says. “In exchange, I’m going to teach her yoga. That girl is tense, I’m so glad she’s got Nessa now.”

“’Nessa’?” Grif asks.

“Kimball,” Kai clarifies. “Oh, yeah, Lina, Nessa, and I are totally on a first name basis after last night.”

Grif doesn’t ask, Kai doesn’t elaborate.

#

They spend the rest of the day lounging around the apartments Kimball provided for them. It’s like they’re kids again—cartoons blaring, Kai’s painting Grif’s toes, junk food everywhere. Grif almost forgets it won’t be like this forever.

“Hey, Kai?” Grif grabs the remote and mutes the show. Kai, half done with Grif’s left foot, glances up before promptly going back to work.

“What’s up?” she asks.

“I’ve got some shitty news,” he says, and when he says it he’s hit with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu, and it’s like he’s been drafted all over again. This time, however, there’s a zero percent chance of him coming back.

“That’s what you said the first time you left,” she says softly.

“Yeah.” Grif looks away out the window. The sun is setting, and an airship zips past their apartment. “Kai, you remember how Simmons gave me half his organs and became a cyborg that one time?”

“Yeah, that sounds like it was so badass,” Kai says. She laughs, but it’s shaky, too-high pitched.

“It totally was,” Grif agrees. “But, uh, I went to see Grey yesterday, you know, when I thought I had food poisoning?”

Kai nods, still not looking up.

“Kai, I’m dying,” Grif says. “Uh, the transplanted organs are failing.”

Kai nods again, and Grif notices the last two nails on his left foot are messy, and there’s nail polish all over her fingers.

“I’m really sorry—” Grif starts, but Kai leaps to her feet.

“It’s not fucking fair!” she yells. Her face darkens, and she kicks the end table next to Grif’s couch, and suddenly he has this image of eight-year-old Kai when he told her she couldn’t have chocolate for dinner. “I just got you back!”

“Kai—”

Kai lets out a frustrated growl and, rather than kick the table again, grabs it and flips it, sending bottles of nail polish flying. One of them shatters, and thick blue liquid seeps out onto the floor. She grabs a pillow and hurls it at the TV, which shakes and almost tips backward. It manages to stay upright, but Kai, unsatisfied, rushes forward and shoves it. It crashes into the floor, and as the life sputters out of it, Kai deflates as well, sinking to the floor.

Taking care not to step on the glass from the nail polish, Grif moves over to Kai’s side. It’s been a long day, and even this almost has him out of breath. He’s pretty sure the polish on his toes is being ground into the carpet, but he doesn’t give a shit. Kimball can replace it if she feels like it.

Grif puts his arm around Kai’s shoulder, and she leans into him, sobbing.

“This is so fucking unfair,” she whispers.

“Life’s a bitch, and then you die,” Grif says. Kai laughs shortly, smacks him on the shoulder, and hugs him back.

They’re still there two hours later, when Simmons, Sarge, Donut, and Doc traipse back into the apartment.

“What the fuck?” Simmons yelps, reaching up and grabbing at his hair.

“Grif! Is that blue nail polish!? Unbelievable! Unforgivable!”

“Wow, this looks just like my place after our first date!” Donut chimes in, looking over at Doc with a toothy grin. Doc’s face goes red and he excuses himself to the kitchen to put away groceries.

“Dex,” Simmons says, voice hoarse. “What. The hell?”

“Uh, there was totally a big rat, and I freaked out okay, and I tried to kill it, but it was super freaking fast, holy shit it was fast!” Kai babbles. “Then I was so mad my nail polish broke I started crying!”

Grif nods.

“That is one hundred percent what happened,” he says.

Simmons looks like he’s ready to faint, while Sarge has started vigorously cleaning the spilled nail polish, muttering to himself.

Grif meets Kai’s eyes and nods. The corners of her mouth twitch, and she nods back.

Turning his gaze back to Simmons, he lets out a sigh. As he watches Simmons rush over to Sarge (“Sarge, no, you—you’re just rubbing it into the—just let me—”), he wonders why he told Kai and why he can’t bring himself to tell Simmons.

He’ll have to sooner or later.

Kind of hard to hide death.

 3

Grif spends the rest of the week divvying up his time.

He lets Sarge chase him around, waving his shotgun as he shouts expletives cursing blue nail polish. It takes a while for Grif to catch his breath once he ducks inside a fuel station, where Lopez stares at him in a way only Lopez can stare.

“Idiota, solo empeoráras tu condición,” he drones.

“Cállate,” Grif wheezes.

If Lopez could roll his eyes, he would.

Grif lets Doc and Donut have him over for dinner, stomachs more innuendos he thought possible. He’s oddly relieved something other than his dying insides is making him nauseous. What Grif can’t stomach is the food, but he does his best to push it around the plate. Besides, Grey would kill him if she knew he was eating so much sugar.

He visits Grey twice a day, always when Simmons is off doing something else. Simmons and Donut are in charge of organizing the menu and decorations for Kimball and Carolina’s wedding, though Grif can’t imagine working with Donut on a coloring book, let alone an entire fucking wedding. But behind Simmons’s half-hearted complaining, Grif can see he’s enjoying putting his energies towards something other than not getting shot.

“You really should try to get more rest,” Grey tells him for the millionth time.

“Have you met me?” Grif snorts. “I’m always resting.”

Grey rolls her eyes and lets him go.

Caboose invites the Reds to movie night, and despite Sarge’s grunting and grumbling, they spend hours with the Blues, watching shitty action movies, playing cards, and shoving their faces with popcorn. Grif enjoys the company, but he keeps getting frustrated with the movie—the movement makes him nauseous, and even though it’s one he’s seen a thousand times, he’s having trouble following the plot. He loses most of the card games too, but he just shrugs and insinuates foul play from the Blues. Sarge agrees.

Carolina keeps giving him weird looks, like she knows something. But she doesn’t say anything, like she understands his secrecy. Grif wonders at first if Kai told her but dismisses the idea. Kai wouldn’t do that without telling him.

Grif spends the fifth day after his diagnosis with Simmons.

They’ve been spending time together all week, of course, hell, they share a bed. But Grif wants to give the entire day to Simmons.

In the morning they drink coffee while Simmons tells him about his new Dungeons and Dragons campaign. Grif watches Simmons’s eyes light up, hands flailing. The nerd becomes so animated he almost spills his coffee.

“You want to drink the coffee, Rich, not oil your arm with it,” Grif teases.

“Hey—I take offense to that!” Simmons snaps. “Just because—fuck!”

Simmons hisses and jumps up from his chair as coffee sloshes out of his mug and onto his hand. Grif, keeled over with laughter, feels the telltale sting on his own jittering hand as he spills his own coffee.

“God dammit!” Grif shouts, dropping the mug. It shatters as it hits the cement, and more hot coffee splashes up and onto Grif and Simmons’s bare feet. “AH!”

“Dammit, Grif!” Simmons scrambles backwards, tripping over his chair as he moves. Grif, wheezing with laughter, reaches out and barely misses the scruff of Simmons’s shirt as he falls on his ass.

Sinking to his knees, Grif struggles for composure as he inches towards Simmons.

“Are—ha—are you okay, Rich?” he asks.

“Fuck off, Dex,” Simmons says, but a huge grin splits his face and suddenly the both of them are losing their shit.

They sit there for at least five minutes, quieting for a few seconds only to start up again. It would have been shorter, Grif thinks, but when Simmons tries to sit up he puts his arm through the glass of the patio door, and once clear of the shards, they dissolve into laughter once more.

Tiptoeing over the glass as they go back inside the apartment, Grif hopes Kimball doesn’t find this until after they’ve gone back to the Moon.

After Simmons has gone back to the Moon.

“Dex, are you crying?” Simmons frowns and leans in to inspect Grif’s face.

“Yeah, from laughing so fucking hard,” Grif says. “That was the weirdest shit of all time.”

“Hey, you started it,” Simmons says, rolling his eyes.

“Shut up, nerd,” Grif retorts.

“Dumbass.”

“Kiss-ass.”

#

“Hey.”

“Yeah?” Simmons turns to face Grif. The two of them are on the rooftop of the apartment, huddled on the couch they dragged up there a few days ago.

“You remember when you were fighting Gene, and I asked you if you ever wondered why we’re here?” Grif asks.

“Of course,” Simmons answers, cheeks going red.

The sun has started to set, making Simmons’s hair look like it’s on fire, and Grif resists the urge to reach over and touch it.

“Dex?” Simmons waves a hand in front of Grif’s face, yanking him away from his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, I guess I was wondering if, you know.” Grif shrugs. “Wondering if you have an actual answer?”

“Like, have I ever wondered that or do I, like know why I’m here?” Simmons asks, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow.

“The second one,” Grif says.

Simmons looks away from Grif and out at the sun as it disappears behind the towering black buildings of New Armonia. Grif wishes he was on Simmons other side, the one without the mechanical eye; he loves it when Simmons gets lost in thought, loves how his eye goes far away and darts back and forth, like he’s studying something. He watches as the corners of Simmons’s mouth twitch down into a pensive frown, wonders what the guy is thinking about. Wonders if Simmons will actually answer the question. Simmons always hates it when Grif bothers him with these questions—which is why Grif does it.

“I think I’m just here,” Simmons says at last.

“What do you mean?” Grif asks.

“Well, um, does there need to be a reason we exist?” Simmons turns towards Grif once more. “I mean, obviously there are reasons why I’m here, specifically, in New Armonia, with you. But as far as me, existing here, in this universe for however long I’m here, I don’t think there is a reason.”

“Well, shit,” Grif says. “I’m usually the one who stumps you.”

“The pupil surpasses the teacher,” Simmons sings.

“Nerd.” Grif shakes his head. Not the answer he was expecting, not from Simmons. Simmons is usually the more optimistic one.

“Do you have an answer?” Simmons asks.

Did he? Grif thinks about growing up, practically an adult at eight years old, getting drafted, meeting Simmons, almost dying a billion freaking times. The sequence of events that brought him here had to have some meaning—right? Or maybe it’s all random, like Simmons said.

“I think fate is a cruel asshole,” Grif says.

“That’s it?” Simmons snorts. “Fate’s dumb, that’s why we’re here?”

“Isn’t that exactly what you just said?”

“Well—I mean—no, I was talking about, you know, getting here was based on the choices and actions of others, but existing in general is random, and—”

“This is making my head hurt, Rich,” Grif interrupts. He’s lying, of course. His head’s been hurting for days now.

Simmons sputters but snaps his mouth shut, swiveling his head to look back at the setting sun with a huff.

“You know I’m here because of you, right?” Grif says.

Simmons sidles over, nestles into Grif’s side and reaches for Grif’s blanket. Grif sighs and hands it over, shivering despite the sweat forming at his hairline and lip.

“Duh,” Simmons says. “I’m here for you too.”

Grif leans down and to kiss Simmons, who returns it, gently but eagerly. When they break apart, Grif wraps his arm around Simmons and they finish watching the sun go down.

“I love you, Rich.”

“Love you too, Dex.”

SIMMONS

4

They’re still on Chorus, spending time on the planet for Carolina and Kimball’s wedding. The ceremony was yesterday—beautiful, sappy, all the things Simmons loves and Grif rolls his eyes over. Then Carolina fucking carried Kimball outside, where they both hopped in a Warthog and took off for a few days. Grif, Simmons, and the others plan on leaving once they return so they can say a proper farewell.

Simmons would normally enjoy a mini vacation, seeing Jensen and the others, not being roommates with Sarge nor neighbors with the Blues for a few days.

But ever since the visit to Grey’s office, Grif has been acting weird.

Simmons figured that having food poisoning would look a lot different. Like, he thought Grif would be a lot grumpier, complain all the time, and, well, sick.

Sure, he’s had the symptoms—chills, nausea, and all that unpleasant shit, but through it all, Grif has been his normal self. Meaning, he still complains all the time, but not about himself, and he’s asked Simmons to watch Battle Star Galactica every night this week and pretended to be interested in the Dungeons and Dragons campaign Simmons is working on. There are bags under his eyes, but his speech is rapid fire, and he’s awake almost all night, watching videos on his data pad and pestering Simmons with the usual existential questions.

Also.

Does food poisoning usually last a week?

“Is everything okay?” Simmons asks one morning.

“Yah, why?” Grif says through a mouthful of cereal.

“I don’t know,” Simmons says. His face goes hot. Shouldn’t have brought it up, dammit! “You just seem different.”

“No idea what you’re talking about, Simmons,” Grif snorts. Using the back of his hand, he wipes a bit of milk from his chin and continues eating.

Simmons frowns. Grif hasn’t called him by his last name in months, not since the whole Temple fiasco.

“No, seriously,” Simmons says, “You’re being way too nice.”

“Giving you a break after years of torture.” Grif grins.

Simmons rolls his eyes. “Can you cut the shit?”

Grif doesn’t say anything, just stares blankly at Simmons.

“Jesus, fine!” Simmons shoves away from the table and storms out of the room.

Why did Grif have to be so freaking stubborn? Simmons thought they were past that beating around the bush crap, yet here they are, dancing around yet another issue. Of course, knowing what the issue is would make things a little easier.

Simmons is pacing back and forth in their bedroom when he hears the crash.

Any other day, he’d chalk it up to Grif being clumsy—they’re both guilty of upending a few chairs and dropping some plates. Any other time, he’d sigh and drag himself back to the kitchen to see if Grif needed help.

Today is different. Simmons feels fear, cold as ice, slice through him as everything off about Grif this past week flashes through his head. And there’s something about the finality in the sound that came from the kitchen that causes Simmons to sprint back.

The first thing he notices is milk everywhere, which is bizarre all on its own because Simmons has never known Grif to leave the sugary, cereal-flavored milk in the bowl.

Simmons takes in the upturned chair, eyes drifting down to Grif, flat on his back and passed out on the linoleum. His breathing is labored, and just as Simmons is about to call for help, Grif groans and pries one eye open.

“Oops,” he wheezes.

“What happened, are you all right?” Simmons swoops down on Grif, who’s trying—and failing—to push himself into a seated position.

“Uh, tripped,” Grif says. His breathing is levelling out a little, but his eyes are closed again.

“We should call Grey,” Simmons says. He’s not going to call bullshit on Grif’s excuse just yet, because the last thing they need right now is a squabble.

“Nah, no,” Grif protests, opening his eyes. He looks up at Simmons but can’t seem to focus, lock onto Simmons’s face. “’S all good, prom’ss.”

“Uh, yeah no, I’m calling Grey,” Simmons argues. He can actually hear his poor cyborg heart humming at what feels like the speed of light.

“Simm—Rich, I’m good, look—” Using his left arm, Grif pushes himself up a few inches. Simmons watches as Grif’s elbow shakes, struggling to support himself, and bites his lip when Grif sighs and sinks back to the floor.

“Dex?” Simmons hates this, hates seeing Grif like this, hates how small his voice sounds right now.

“Maybe…” Grif sighs. “Call Grey.”

 5

Grey has to repeat herself five times before what she’s saying registers in Simmons’s brain.

“What?” His mechanical heart whirs, complaining as he attempts to control his breathing. “What?”

They’re standing in the middle of the waiting room, waiting for the others to arrive.

“I’m so sorry, Simmons,” Grey says, placing a hand on his arm. Simmons rips away.

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Simmons demands. Anger, red and hot and roiling, surges through his blood, into his hands, down to the pit of his stomach.

Why didn’t Grif tell him?

“He wanted everything to stay normal for as long as possible, and I wanted to honor his wishes,” Grey explains. “I’ve done everything I can to address the symptoms, but eventually, his organs will completely shut down.”

“Normal?” Simmons scoffs. “Normal? This is anything but fucking normal, you should have told me! He should have told me, fuck normal!”

Grey opens her mouth to respond, but

Simmons feels his face go hot, and suddenly he’s seeing red. Anger courses through his body, screams into his ears, squeezes his lungs. He can’t see straight, form a coherent thought—he’s not sure how long he’s lost but when his vision clears he’s screaming, and he has one hand clutched around the collar of Sarge’s shirt, the other pulled back into a fist.

“This is your fucking fault!” Simmons is shouting. “Your fault!”

Sarge just stands there, stone-faced, doesn’t even flinch when Simmons sends his fist into the wall next to his head.

“FUCK!” Simmons shoves Sarge backwards into the wall, turns away from him and runs a shaking hand through his hair.

It’s not fair, he knows, he knows it’s not fair. Sarge saved Grif’s life years ago, he’s lucky to have survived this long without the organs rejecting his body. But there’s nothing to be angry at, nothing tangible anyway, so he latched onto the first person he saw. Shit, he may have even freaked out at Caboose if he’d been the one to waltz in.

Maybe he should be angry at the UNSC, for dropping them on Blood Gulch in the first place, where they almost died on countless occasions, where Simmons became part cyborg and Grif became part Simmons.

Simmons lets out a breathy laugh. Part Simmons.

Grif would think that’s super cheesy.

Maybe he should be angry at himself, for wasting so much time. Years, so many years wasted denying what he felt—what they both felt—and now that they’re finally happy, finally free, it’s all been fucking ripped away. Simmons can feel every second hammering at the back of his skull,

There’s a pressure on his shoulder and Simmons freezes, ready to pounce, but then realizes it’s Sarge’s hand. Simmons glances at him over his shoulder, expecting anger, finding understanding.

“S’all right, son,” Sarge says.

“I—I need to go.” Simmons shrugs Sarge’s hand away.

He beelines for the door to Grif’s room, hand freezing over the latch.

“I’m sorry,” he says, not looking at Sarge. Sarge doesn’t say anything, and Simmons enters Grif’s room.

#

Grif is half asleep when Simmons enters his room. Simmons tries not to flinch when he sees the tubes and wires tethering Grif to life, tries to block out the beeping and hissing of machinery as he shuffles towards the bed.

“’Sup, nerd?” Grif mumbles as Simmons sits down next to him.

“Oh. You know,” Simmons says, giving Grif a shaky smile.

“Yelling,” Grif says.

“Huh?”

“Heard yelling,” Grif elaborates.

“Oh, that.” Simmons sighs. “Uh, kinda yelled at Sarge. But, uh, don’t worry about it!”

“Rebel,” Grif laughs. Then he frowns. “Wait why… were you yelling?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s stupid,” Simmons insists. Next thing he needs is Grif giving him shit.

“Not his fault,” Grif mutters.

“What?”

“Not his fault,” Grif repeats. “Not his fault, not your fault. Just bad fucking luck.”

Simmons lets out something between a laugh and a growl. Bad luck, fate, bullshit—whatever it is, they’ve been plagued by it for basically their entire lives.

“Like you said,” Grif says. “No reason.”

“Fuck what I said,” Simmons says. “I change my mind, I exist, and you exist, and we exist, so we can be together.”

“Simmons.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Dex?” He called him Simmons again. “We could’ve done something, or, or Sarge could’ve given you cyborg parts or—”

“Rich,” Grif says, raising his voice above the hoarse whisper he’s been using. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Okay?” Simmons laughs. “Nothing is okay, Dex. You’re dying.”

“You’ll be okay,” Grif insists. “You have to.”

“Do I?” Simmons snaps.

“Yeah, idiot, you do,” Grif says. “You better not fucking leave Sarge to his own devices.”

“Sarge will be fine,” Simmons says through gritted teeth.

“Can you make sure Kai gets to visit home?” Grif asks.

“Home?”

“Hawai’i. Honolulu.”

A pain like a knife slices through Simmons, and the realization hits that he won’t get to see Hawai’i with Grif, will have to see it without Grif, will have to see everything without Grif.

“Yeah, I can—” Simmons’s voice cracks. “I can do that.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Whatever it takes.”

Grif chuckles.

“Kiss-ass,” he mutters.

“Dumbass,” Simmons says. He takes Grif’s hand in his and watches as Grif falls asleep, the ghost of a smile on his face.

#

Four days pass.

#

Grif doesn’t wake up.

#

Simmons stays by Grif’s side until he’s led away—Donut? He thinks it is, can’t be sure, all he can discern is the tone. Can’t pick out the words. Can’t turn to check. It isn’t until they stand up to greet the other people entering the room and Simmons sees the shock of straw-colored hair that he knows it’s Donut for sure.

A few people come up to him, mouths moving, and he can hear a dull hum of noises he can’t quite string into words. Everything is covered in a dense fog, and Simmons can’t tell if he’s hot or cold. Eventually, people stop bothering him and whisper among themselves.

Time passes, he isn’t sure how long, and suddenly there’s a new face in front of him.

They’re warm and bright and dressed in yellow.

“Kai.”

Kai nods, leans forward, and throws her arms around Simmons, and every feeling suspended up in the dense cloud around his head comes crashing down. Grief, black and suffocating, settles in his chest. Anger, at the world at Grif at himself at everything and everyone. Relief, that Grif is finally free.

“He’s gone,” he croaks. He feels Kai nod into his shoulder, and he can feel the warmth of her tears as they soak through his shirt.

And they sit there, sharing their grief, clinging to each other as if, without something to tether them there, they’ll drift away.

As the room clears, as Simmons and Kai wait for the worst of the storm to pass, Simmons pulls away.

“Kai?”

“Yeah?” she says, letting out a shaky sigh.

“We’re going to be okay.”

 6

Hawai’i is vibrant.

It’s cerulean and emerald and orange and violet. The buildings of Honolulu creep right up to the edge of the ocean, defiant. At night the city gives off a warm glow, reflecting on the water, clear and never quiet. Mountains surround the city on three sides, covered in vegetation and even some houses, and at the edge of the city Lē’ahi—the Diamond Head volcano—lies dormant.

Kai points out clubs and local shops, talkative as always, and after a while Simmons tunes her out. Instead, he looks up and down the streets, inside storefronts, restaurants. He imagines Grif waiting in line at the video game store, leaning back in the one of the café’s patio chairs, enjoying copious amounts of ice cream, napping on the beach.

Everything about Honolulu, about Hawaii, screams Dexter Grif.

Whenever Grif talked about his home, his face would light up and his speech would quicken. His eyes would go far away, and after a few minutes, his face would darken, and he’d mumble something about needing to go to the bathroom. Simmons didn’t understand—not at first. Leaving home was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Then Kai crash landed on Blood Gulch, and Simmons realized that Grif, unlike him, left something he cared about behind. A family, this beautiful fucking island. After Chorus, Grif would bring up visiting home some time, and when they had to travel to Earth to save it from Temple, Grif complained about not taking a vacation.

Simmons looks down at the box tucked under his left arm.

Well. Grif is finally home.

#

“Oh, man, we would come here all the time,” Kai sighs. “Dex napped mostly but sometimes we surfed together. Oh, and this is a perfect spot to bring a date. Man, the sand gets in all the cracks though.”

“Yeah,” Simmons says, squinting into the sunset. It’s turned the water a bright orange, and— “Wait, what?”

“C’mon, his favorite spot’s over here!” Kai calls, already bounding across the sand.

Simmons is considerably less graceful as he tries to run after her. How does she stay so balanced? He wonders if it would be easier if he was barefoot, but then remembers he’s just as clumsy on solid ground.

When he finally catches up to Kai she’s doing cartwheels in the sand. Occasionally, her hand slips in the loose sand, but for the most part she stays upright. Simmons stands and watches for a minute or two, waiting for her to notice he’s there.

“Oh!” Kai claps her hands together to get the sand off. “Finally!”

Simmons rolls his eyes.

“How are you so… happy?” he asks. Now more than ever he feels the weight of the box under his arm as he watches Kai’s face fall. He shouldn’t have opened his stupid mouth, he should’ve—

“I’m happy ’cause I’m home, I’m happy ’cause Dex is finally home, and he’s not suffering anymore,” she says, looking away from Simmons. “But I’m sad too, you know. I miss him. I wish he could’ve come for real, and not in a fricking box.”

Simmons realizes that Kai, having spent years alone after her brother was drafted, must have been afraid of exactly this. Grif coming home in a casket—or box.

“I’m sorry, I was just a huge ass hole,” Simmons sighs. “I wish he could be here for real too.”

“I mean, he is here for real,” Kai counters, gesturing at the box Simmons is holding.

“Ah.” Simmons shifts on his feet, looking off over the water. “Right.”

For a moment the two of them stand there, watching the sun sink lower beneath the horizon. Then Kai plops down and pats the sand on her left. Simmons recalls what Kai said about sand getting in all the cracks, but his legs are so sore from traversing through Honolulu all day he decides he’ll deal with it.

Setting the box gingerly on in the sand, Simmons sits down next to Kai.

About an hour passes in silence as they admire the waves swooshing up and down the beach, the lazy way the sky turns from orange to grey to navy blue. A few clouds roll in, covering up the moon, but they have plenty of light from the city. Simmons gazes at Honolulu’s reflection in the water and thinks it almost looks like there’s a second city in the ocean.

Kai leans over and rests her head on Simmons’s shoulder, lets out a sigh, and pushes herself to her knees.

“I guess now’s as good a time as any, huh?”

Simmons’s toes twitch but he realizes the last thing he wants to do is stand up. Walk to the water. Do what they came here to do. He knows he’s being stupid and selfish, but he can’t bring himself to move.

Kai’s eyes meet his and she lowers herself back down to the sand. This time, when she leans her head on his shoulder, she leaves it there.

“We can totally wait,” she says. “Nighttime is really pretty so, like, no rush here.”

Simmons just nods and stares out over the water. Normally he’d cringe at such close contact from anyone—well, most anyone—but Kai’s keeping him grounded. Another wave of anger and guilt washes over him—he should be the one keeping Kai grounded. Dex was her brother, after all.

Kai sniffles. Simmons’s eyes widen, and he looks down to find Kai crying.

“Shit, I’m sorry—I’m dragging this out, we can—we can do it now, okay?” Simmons scrambles to find the right thing to say; he’s never been one for comforting people. He pats her on the shoulder once, twice, and is about to give up when Kai throws her arms around him.

“Oof!” Simmons freezes, breath knocked out of him, arms outstretched. He’s not sure what the fuck to do with his arms at first.

Slowly, gently, he returns Kai’s embrace.

Simmons is about to complain that he’s got something in his eyes, sand maybe, but he just cries instead.

“God, Grif would give us so much shit right now,” Simmons laughs.

Kai giggles and pulls away, wiping her arm across her eyes. “Yeah, but you know he’d secretly be all over this sappy shit.”

Simmons grins. He stands then, brushing the sand off his pants and offers a hand to Kai, who raises her eyebrow and rises to her feet on her own. Simmons shrugs and scoops up the box, and together they make their way to the edge of the water.

The steady rumble and crash of the waves fills Simmons’s ears. The smell of salt and sand permeates the air, but it isn’t unpleasant—better than the dust-filled air on Blood Gulch. Fresh. Simmons can taste salt as well, but that’s probably from all the crying.

Once they reach the ocean, Simmons holds the box out to Kai. Kai takes the lid off and drops it on the ground next to her, just out of reach of the water washing over their feet. They both look down at the ashes, then back at each other.

“Uh, should we—” Simmons jerks his head towards the water.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Kai says with a grin.

Together, hands gripping the box, they sprinkle the ashes in the water. They swirl with the waves, some of them getting pulled back into the ocean, some drifting along the shore. Simmons imagines Grif here, swimming—or napping—and for the first time in weeks, he feels happy.

He’s happy because Grif is finally home.

Grif is finally home and, as Simmons looks out at the ocean one last time, breathing in the salty air, feels like this is where he belongs too.

Kai elbows him in the ribs.

“C’mon, let’s go home,” she says.

Simmons nods.

Home.

[sammlethal]

Anyone ever tell you that they do not love you? At that point when you have stars in your eyes and that person fills your heart to bursting? Have you ever given someone every single emotion there is to give? From rage to tears of joy? Emotions from both your personal stock and theirs?

Its like we live in a time period where actual love is dead. Everything is selfish. Everyone. Me included.

My father quit on me. Packed all mine and my siblings belongings into small plastic shopping bags and dropped us off 6 hours away in my mothers neighborhood, not sure which house was hers. I had to hold my brother and sister's hands while knocking door to door, looking for my mom. I was 12.

That was a couple years after the era of beatings, after the era of divorce. After that Friday afternoon day at school; my mother was the school bus driver before the divorce. Everyday we rode home with her. Until my father picked us all up. It was fun for us kids. We NEVER got picked up, and by our father! What a thing! He drove us to our pastors house. We did not see our mother again for almost 5 years. In the State of Virgina, in the late 90s, it wasnt considered kidnapping for a biological parent to take off with the kids if they stay within state lines. And my mother must have given up after that. I imagine the evil that was my real father, and how crushed and scared she must have been. Only now do I know what it is she felt.

That was after the molestation of me and my sister by our God father/Sunday school teacher/the churches singing coach.

Then there was my first love. I was 17. She was 16. By 19 we had a daughter, her name is Serenity. My ex was a freak. My demanded things from me that I could not give her, not physically. So in order to keep her and my kid, I let her have her satisfaction and pleasure.

I guess someone screwed her over because she fabricated these fake police reports about a guy who kept coming after her and she said she called the cops over and over and he wouldnt leave her alone (she was 6 months preggo when this happened) and she didnt feel safe and I beat him up. I beat him up bad. Almost killed him. Turns out she lied and he had been paying her for preggo nude flicks and videos amd she felt he still owed her money. So she used my insecurities and my nature and set me on a course that led me to 5 years in prison. Then she left me. Yeah I know. I'm a fucking idiot. My only defense was that i was young and dumb and in love. Or so I thought. No really...i thought it was the right thing. That I was protecting my small, new family. And damnit man, family means the world to me. Probably because mine has been so fucked up lol.

Anyways I get out in 2015 and I meet a girl. She rocks my world in all new was and we CLICK. Like...humor and taste and the world issues we care about and nerdy things and the SEX IS ON FIRE. And I fucked up. I fucked up bad. I broke her heart. I got drunk. I started the road to becoming my biological father.

Then she left me. Which was biggest, greatest thing she could have ever done for me. I went spiraling out of control and ended up living in the woods.

Until she calls me one day. I had a new girlfriend. We did not CLICK lol...and as soon as me and her spoke I turned to that girl and told her we were not gonna work out.

You see. Me and my lady had a son together. A beautiful, handsome as hell and adorable baby boy. And he really became my world. I walked 7 miles to meet him. My feet had popped blisters by the time I got downtown and saw them. The whole time I'm walking I'm hopping she didnt leave. That she would wait. And she did.

Then I messed up again. I scared her. That time between when we broke up and when she came back...i did not do good. I found cocaine and alcohol and it led to a very big fight between the two of us. That night we fought I have never been more like my father than right then and there. And I payed for it. The next morning I was arrested. No one thought of rehab. No one had the sight to see the root of the issues. Or no one cared. It was back to prison for me. A parole violation.

I got out. We tried again. I failed again. Only this time nothing horribly bad had happened. She just wanted an escape. I know this because she has since told me so. That she wasn't IN LOVE with me and needed an escape. We had been split up almost a week. I will never forget. It started on a Wednesday night, I left and went to my mothers. That following Sunday the police beat down the door and arrested me AGAIN. Only this time nothing bad had happened. Not really. She just didnt want to be with me. And so she sent me away. For two more years. 2!

I get out. I find peace finally. I start taking care of mental health.

She comes back! Again! And once again I leave my girlfriend at the time, who by the way, had a heart of gold and did not deserve to get caught up in mine and my lovers drama. I will forever feel guilty about that and I hope she forgives me over time. But at the end...no one can replace my son's Mother. She is my other half. My best friend.

We've been going since April? May? It had been a few years and I had just gotten out a few months before and the Covid just hit so I was trying to get the family court papers started. I got in touch with a private detective to find her so I could have her served. The the last thing I expected was to get a call from her.

And here we are. I am struggling to learn all the important, fundamental life lessons that my parents failed to teach me. I am struggling to learn those crucial relationship lessons we learn when in our twenties...that era of my life that was spent locked away.

All i want is my family. Is to be loved. And to ve able to return that love. My life could have went a few different ways. But here I am, doing the right things as much as I see them. I beat myself up when I fail. I work hard doing general construction. I'm good at it too. I start school in the spring. Nothing fancy just community college. I am an awesome dad. An awesome lover. And I have a huge heart.

ALMOST every single day I am with my little family. My son's Mother and my son. She doesnt want me to move in...which I understand. She claims to be an introvert. Which I also understand. (Along with beating, my childhood was also spent locked in my room, grounded, for days on days on days).

And dont get it wrong. Me and her have some issues. Mine (I think?) are just basic life things I'm trying to wrap my head around, like I said, the things my parents failed me on. But at least I know that. I admit it. And I'm trying. Because I'm a good man who has been through hell and because of that hell, I love with a feirceness, I don't give up. I am patient. And I generally have a positive outlook on life. I would I am doing good, all things considered. Her issues? Jesus fucking Christ. You would swear the world is ending right now.

She is constantly breaking up with me. For example, this weekend I gave it to her in a way neither of us have had...im talking sex here...we both have this...fetish, both of us (how rare?) And we both click when we do these things. Anyways I left her empty of all juices. Then I massaged her a little that night, telling her how good and amazing she is. Then another nice massage a day or so later. She thanked me after the last one (massage I mean)...saying how her back didnt hurt in the morning and how she got her yoga done.

And now we are broken up. Right now. Again. It was last week when it happened. She calls me on Wednesday or Thursday and says that I got in her head. Then this awesome weekend happens. Then an awesome start to the week. Then tuesday, doing construction, I think i pulled something in my leg or gave myself a small hernia, because after work I was in pain and sore. I asked told her I wanted to stay home. Rest up. That the next day we were supposed to start this big window replacement job. 20 something windows. But no. We argued over it. I dont know why. I think she just really missed me. Or so I thought. And said she needed help with our son. She always says that, then when i get there and dinner is over, the rest of her night is spent on her phone (which she is sneaky with), on the TV, or MAYBE catching up on homework. Says she is tired after a long day of working from home, on the phone and computer. Doing IT. But I do physical labor. And if I complain that I am sore or tired she just thinks i want to sit at home on my PlayStation or watching netflix, instead of taking the responsibility to be there for our son. Which remember, I am ALWAYS THERE. Unless she has decided that I am horrible, in which case she breaks up with me, and I spend the next couple of days hurt and crying and missing my family. I can not move in with her and my son. She does not want her family to know. (My mother told me she would disown me if me and her got back together. But it did not stop me. Because i am a man, and she is my woman. He is my son. And this is my life)....and is so stressed and anxious that will find me over there. I have actually, more than once, had to run and hide because her family popped up.

So yeah, I walk over there. This was Tuesday. The day when I think I pulled a muscle. I walked. She says that the only reason I walked was because she had to yell at me. But man...see these text. You would swear I am the world's largest dick head. In reality she said all these things in front of my son. That night I touched her. Massaged her just a little...soft touches. We made love. I woke up throughout the night with leg cramps. Woke up the next morning so tired from lack of sleep and hurting leg muscles. Called the doctor. Had to miss work. Turns out that yep, I gave myself a small hernia. Then WALKED on it lol.

So when we talked yesterday. I told her that the doc is pretty sure I have a hernia...my appointment was today and yes...yes I do have a little hernia. Doc wants me to rest but I'm pretty sure I have to work. Anyways so yesterday, before she picks our boy up from daycare (by the way, kuddos to you moms who work from home AND have kids to deal with at the same time. You girls are superheros!)...which I agree with daycare. He is an only child and he needs interaction with other kids. It's important for his development. Anywho, she ask me before picking him up if I want to come over. I tell her no, tell her what the doc said. By this point I have been there everyday since Friday. While on parole and breaking cerfew and worried about that. (Which I got questioned on. If I didnt worry about parole before, why now? And I dunno. Thats way of anxiety? But good thing I did because he came by this morning and I was here. Had I been there with her, I would have been here and would be on my way to a big ole parole violation. But no. In her eyes I dont do enough. I have to be there every day, no matter if I'm sick or sore or in pain. That is what she said. That a real parent never quits.

I'm just so confused. I didnt quit. He can come over here to my place whenever he wants. Ive told her this. I have told him that. Of all nights for the two of us to stay at our respective homes, last night was it. I AM IN SO MUCH PAIN AND CAN BARELY MOVE.

But she broke up with me again last night. Or better yet, said that we have been broken up. She said she doenst love me anymore.

How? Literally all we do is laugh. Have amazing sex. We are awesome parents. I literally dote on her. Massage her. Touch her softly. Like for real, I EMPTIED her of all juices, have seen her cry...actually cry, from pleasure. She makes 50x more money than I do, but I still give her money because I don't want to feel like a burden.

I dont get it. I really don't. I give the shirt off my back. Gave myself a hernia. All I want is belong to a family that doesn't quit when the anxiety comes. Who doesnt take a lifetime of anxiety and stress and then blame it on someone else simply because they are what is in front of you at the moment.

How can someone be so smart and not see that? Or not want to?

Its 2020. We live in a world that encourages us to lie to ourselves. To lie to ourselves about our nature. We all believe we are good. Harmless people. Who would never hurt anyone or cause ill will. What we fail to see is that yes, we do cause all of these things, and then some. We are not perfect. We are human. We will hurt other people. We will lie. The great tragedy of the world isnt this in and of itself...these different hurts and heart aches are as old as humanity is....war, peace. Love and hate. The great tragedy is that we have been led to believe that we are beyond that, that we good, perfect people. And so when we do hurt others, its not our faults but theirs because how can I, this wonderful human being in the modern age, ever hurt someone? I have a car, a job, I'm a good parent. I'm a good boss. Whatever it is. We justify who we are by our level of success. And this is wrong.

And when she ask me why I love her after everything. Those moments when we both see the truth and see who we are, those are the moments when she ask me how I'm the world I can actually love her knowing all this. Dealing with all this. How? And I dont have the answer. I just know that my heart beats for the two of them (her and my boy) and it always will and I really hope one day she comes around. I'm waiting for that.

Some men find that one lady, that one lover, and there is nothing else after her that we want. She has it all. And that is me. That is her.

I love you

[defunctblogtobedeleted]

8/9/19 12:34 AM the super update. aka get your shit together Endgame post 1/?

Well. Here I am. It’s hard to even approach this post, to be honest. I’ve been procrastinating for so long. So long that it’s actually the last real thing I have left on my to do list.

Check this out.

I’ve been working hard at doing things lately. And catching up with you is basically the last thing left to do.

I finally spring cleaned all of my clothes and got rid of a ton of stuff that didn’t fit one way or another. 

I started playing guitar again.

I got my shit together with my job, got a bunch of online credits that I’d been procrastinating on. Started doing all the possible work I could every night to make my boss happy and it’s been making me a fuckton more money tbh. 

I’ve bought a bunch of cool shit, and been treating myself right with my food. I gained a bunch of weight back during the past year during my relationship with Andi. It’s not a terrible thing, I was treating myself. She convinced me that I deserved to treat myself and enjoy myself and that’s not a bad thing. But now I’m doing what I call Keto+, which is Keto+Beer lmfao.

I’m still going out drinking whenever I want, but for my meals I’ve stopped eating breads and rice and pasta, mostly just eating chipotle (just graduated to doing salads instead of bowls with light rice, though I wasn’t eating the rice just a bite here and there), sashimi from Hmart, lately once in a while a five guys lettuce wrap burger, back to doing salami and mozzarella at home. 

I’ve taken to fasting once a week on my thursday night shift (tonight), to try to accelerate the weight loss, but it’s not like my pov diets before because I’m still eating nuts.

It’s been a progression of increasing the amount I’ve been running (from one day to two days, to usually two maybe three days a week now, and the distance is a lot longer now), and cutting off more and more little cheats. E.g. the biggest was finally embracing sparkling waters instead of gatorade. I finally got to try Spindrift off a recommendation from a magic the gathering podcast, and it’s incredible. Only like 3 calories a can and it actually tastes good from the real juice and not bitter in the aftertaste. 

But anyway, I’ve got plenty of money now. My debts are paid, I’m ahead on bills, I’ve got all the sweet clothes I wanted, so I finally made the call last week.

It’s time to fix my car’s bumper. I’ll try to remember to get one last picture of lexi before I fix her broken front tooth.

Do you know what that means?

It’s the Endgame.

The Get Your Shit Together List I put together years ago... well let’s take a look at what’s left of it. The sad thing about digital to do lists is you don’t see the progression though. Wish I knew what was on there. I think a lot of it was losing weight, but I skipped the whole being healthy part before.

God damn, man.

Doc last edited Oct 2, 2018. I guess I started writing this plan out Jan 2017. I think my biggest priorities then were to cut down spending and pay off my debts. 

I never started exfoliating lol. I wonder if I should do that for my nose.

I didn’t give ashleigh her plane credit part because fuckit. I did end up using mine though, to take that trip to Hawaii to visit John. Pretty fucking baller. I guess that was another big step towards getting my shit together, too.

Quit melee, but now I’ve been playing again playing jigglypuff just to hang out with my roommates. It’s really neat not grinding falco, even though I lose a lot the game’s a lot more fun again.

OH MY GOD THOSE BLUE STORAGE CUBES. When I fucking talked about spring cleaning clothes? THATS what I meant. I’ve literally had this shit on my to do list for two YEARS hahahahah. About goddamn time. Holy fuck.

Got my deviated septum fixed, didn’t cost nearly that much thank the lawd.

Just went to the dentist, my teeth are doing great. Ironically they mentioned that I need to consider replacing one of the fillings that I mention getting here eventually. 

I did finally get a new laptop and backup the old one, uploaded that info to throw it out about two weeks ago. 

Actually got sweet ass new shoes booya checkem

I’m not vaping anymore, the whole juul pod fad never hit me. I’m doing cigarettes still, for better or for worse. Lol. I’ll take the cancer I know over the one I don’t.

But it’s better than I was when I was writing this list, I used to have to smoke one every single day after work. Maybe that was because I was hungry, but it was always this poignant craving on the back porch that I remember. Now I just like smoking when I drink mostly, but have the occasional one to chat with people or whatever.

Playing guitar again, not frequently, might start at work more since I’m playing the electric since I don’t have an acoustic available. Maybe I’ll even learn these songs. Playing guitar is great though, I kinda wanna be in a band sometime. That’d be fucking neat. Someone invited me to sing for his drunkenly at karaoke lol I should hit him up it’s been a minute. 

Got my nintendo switch, which I think was so far out of consideration that I deleted it from the fun stuff section. 

Who’d have thought I’d ACTUALLY start running and drinking water more. I guess I’m the greatest lmao.

Yeah man, like 15 pounds over the past 2 months. I think a lot of it was easy food weight, but it’s felt really rewarding all the same. Gotta keep it up, this 175 hurdle has been a tough nut to crack, but I’m gonna be really proud of myself once I get into the 160s territory again. I’m doing pullups slightly more, maybe I need to do the whole situps-pushups-pullups regimen right before/after running to really push it. Idk, i’m just glad i’m being good about it.

I’m even flossing once a week now.

Things are really shaping up. 

But with money in my bank account there are three options that I have.

1. Save it by buying stocks

2. Blow it by buying a bunch of dumb shit

3. Finish off the to do list and actually get my bumper fixed.

I wanted to ignore 3 because it feels like a dumb expense for a minor aesthetic, but I guess in view of all these things I’ve accomplished it really does mean quite a bit more than that. So I made a claim on a ding on the side of my car and I’m gonna see if I can get it all fixed up. I’ve actually taken on a few extra days of work lately and made even MORE extra money, so I don’t think it should knock me back financially at all. Which means that it’s time. 

I’m finally doing it.

It feels really cool. I’m a little bit anxious about it in the sense that it’s gonna be annoying if they deny me getting the bumper fixed because of the collision damage that I never reported. But whatever we’ll cross that bridge in a few weeks when I get the damage inspected and see what happens.

This has been my brag post. Hope you were able to tolerate it all. But that’s only the first phase of catching up. It’s only been a half hour of writing! I’ve got a lot of time left at work tonight and I might even spend a lot of this weekend at Darlin’s catching up if I have to. Catching up with this blog is as big a part of getting my shit together as scheduling my appointment with the car insurance was.

So what I mean to say is we’re gonna catch all the way through my greensboro days up to now. I have some saucy tales and some not-so-saucy ones. I’ve got a full relationship to blab about, and honestly one thing that I had promised her and was on a bunch of my old to do lists was to do like a whole pro-con listing about her persona, which felt weird and I kept procrastinating on but god dammit I’m gonna get everything off my to do lists. 

So I looked back a little and it looks like the last posts I made were about sally, Becky,  whatever the hell my dealings with Taylor were, and the beginnings of Mary. Which means that we’re gonna flesh out Mary, and then you’ve got Sophie, Rachel, Olivia, Andi, Jennifer, Heather, and Jill to look forward to.  Whew baby.

[makingbabyk]

November 26 2019

Today has been a day. The way it was scheduled was supposed to be thus: Work until 1pm, get to the clinic by 1:30pm in order to sign in for my tube test, then my counselling session was scheduled for 4:30pm, which was supposed to be that late since I was told I might not get out of the tube test until 3:30 or 4pm.

The tube test’s start at 2pm and are first come, first served. When I got there I was number 3 on the list, so I settled in and prepared to wait an hour. I was surprised to be called back just 20 minutes later, where I learned the Doc doing the test that day had had a cancellation and was going to start early, plus the two people ahead of me on the list weren’t in the clinic for some reason, so I got to go first.

The test was AWFUL. They put a catheter up to my cervix, inject a dye and insert a trans-vaginal ultrasound and take a look to see if the fallopian tubes are blocked or not. Pressure against the cervix hurts like a mofo, so the catheter was awful, and they had to inject dye a few different times which I could feel every time. They could see my left tube fine, it was completely clear. But the right tube they couldn’t really see, apparently it was hiding behind some part of my large intestine or something. Though they did say I had a really nice follicle maturing on the right side. 

After the test I got dressed and went to reception to find out where I had to go for my counselling session, and since it wasn’t even 2:30 at that point, I asked if they could check and see if the counsellor could get me in earlier. Thankfully Jan, the counsellor, was free right then so I only had to go down a floor and wait a few minutes before getting in to see her.

I was very nervous about that session, but she was lovely. I told her why I was going through this process, and we talked about my support network, what’s been going on in my life the last few years, the donor selection process. Everything. She seemed really happy with my answers and said she felt I was very well prepared for this process. She also encouraged me to attend a support group she runs for single folks having kids on their own. It meets the 4th Thursday of each month, so I’m going to try and go this week. It’ll be a good networking opportunity, and, according to Jan, it’s a great resource of like minded people. Apparently, they're a pretty close group and they even have a holiday social in January and a big party in August. I’m looking forward to checking it out. 

So now I’ve just got to wait until my follow up on December 4, where Dr Dv and I will go over the next steps and decide when to start. 

More to come….

December 5, 2019

So I went to the support group last week and it was wonderful. Everyone had something to say and a story to share. Lots of questions were asked and we were all able to give our perspectives, it was really great.

I have my follow up with Dr Dv yesterday and it went great. I got there about 10 minutes early and ended up waiting a bit for her, but just before she came and got me the counsellor, Jan, was walking through the clinic and stopped to chat with me. 

Then Dr. Dv came and we went back to her office to go over everything.

All of my results came back good. My AMH, which measures ovarian reserve, came back about mid range, which is good because being too high can mean you have PCOS (poly-cycstic Ovarian syndrome). My CBC was a bit wonky, which she thought might mean I didn’t drink enough water so we redid that test. And everything else was normal or at least expected based on my past physicals.

Then we went over my options and decided on a game plan. Basically we’re going with a medicated IUI. I’ll be taking Letrozole for 5 days during my cycle to encourage two follicles to mature, instead of the usual one. That will double my chances of one fertilizing. It also increases your chances of multiples, but, as she said, that change goes up to 7-15%, however in her time she hasn’t seen it in 5% of cases, so she’s not overly concerned. The goal is to for me to get pregnant within 3 cycles.

The other options were no drugs with IUI, which would mean less chance of pregnancy each cycle, and we’d probably try 6 cycles before re-evaluating. Or we could go straight to IVF, which she thought was extreme given my age. If I was closer to or over 40 she might recommend it, but she didn’t think it would be necessary.

The plan is to skip my next cycle, since that would probably put insemination right over Christmas, and start in January. Based on my calculations, but January cycle with start January 3 or 4 and then the schedule will be:

Day 2 or 3: go in for cycle monitoring. This will be bloodwork and ultrasound. Dr Dv will review the results that day and call me to tell me when I have to come in next and when to start taking Letrozole. 

Days 5-10: I need to go in to get the tube test done again. She wants to be able to see the tube they couldn’t see last time (my left one I think), she can’t do the insemination if the tube is blocked and that’s the side the egg will be released from that month. During this time I’ll probably have to go in every few days for cycle monitoring to see how things are progressing.

Day11+: Insemination sometime after day 10. I’ll continue to go in for cycle monitoring and when Dr Dv see the eggs are getting ready to release in the next day or two, she’ll call me and tell me when to come in for insemination.

After insemination there’s the dreaded two week wait before pregnancy testing (I believe that’s blood and another ultrasound) and I get to see if it worked. If it didn’t then we start all over again the next cycle.

It’s kinda crazy that this is going to happen so soon, yet January also feels so far away lol. I definitely don’t want to get started any sooner, but I’m glad it’s happening at the beginning of the month.

More to come…. 

December 7, 2019

I’ve been trying to put into words how I’m feeling, but the words aren’t coming. So to put it plainly…

I’m feeling anxious and maudlin, maybe because I’m sleep deprived

A lot of my high school friends who have kids that are already in school are posting about christmas and it’s making me ache for a baby

I’m terrified that I’m making a mistake doing this alone

I’m worried because it feels like this is happening to easily for me, and I honestly think it should be harder. But I also don’t want to borrow trouble so I’m trying to ignore that feeling, but it wasn’t helping. 

I’m debating going back to Jan, the counsellor, for another session. But I can’t seem to articulate my thoughts to myself, so I’m not confident in my ability to make sense to her.

On top of this I’m moving February 1 and the movers are going to run me about $600+, which is about 50% more than I paid last time. So that’s going to cut into my cash flow for cycles, but I guess that’s what credit cards and overtime is for. I’m going to work as much overtime the next two weeks as I can get away with, so I can bank as much cash as possible. It’s a bit of a mess, but I’m done my christmas shopping, so I should be able to control my expenses over the next couple of months much better. I mean, how much do I really need to eat? I’m joking, well I’m serious in that if I cut out junk food (aka take out) I’ll save myself a boatload of money. I’ve also got a freezer full of stuff I should eat before moving, and it’s much healthier than what I usually eat for lunch.

I’m rambling, so I’m gonna log out now.

More to come….

January 7, 2020

Christmas and New Years have come and gone. It was a busy holiday season on top of a busy period at work. But I was able to crank out some decent overtime, which will pay for my movers at the end of the month, and also pay off some credit card bills to make some room for the fertility bills

My period is due to start today, which means day 2 or 3 is coming soon, and with that comes my first cycle monitoring appointment. I’m excited and terrified still, but it honestly doesn’t seem real some days. 

My move is happening at the end of this month, and my promotion, which I’ve been waiting for since October, should come through this month as well. But I’m not really holding my breath on that one. It’ll happen when it happens. 

I’m trying to be a realist and remember that the likelihood of insemination working on the first try is slim to non existent, but I’m hopeful it’ll work within three. 

Not much else to report I guess

More to come… 

January 8, 2020

My period finally started today. It was due yesterday, but it’s been at least a day or two early the last three months, so I was expecting it earlier. But of course that means it would come late. 

Regardless, it’s here now and that means cycle monitoring starts. First visit is Friday. 

More to come…

January 9, 2020

I go for my first cycle monitoring appointment tomorrow. I’m fucking terrified. 

What if I got the days wrong?

What if the cycle doesn’t start until my period is done?

What if I forget to sign up on one of the clip-boards?

What if they see something weird on the ultrasound and refuse to inseminate me?

What if. 

What if..

What if... 

I’m a fucking mess. 

More to come… 

January 10, 2020 (7:05 am)

Cycle monitoring today. Got here at 6:30am and the door was locked. Another woman showed up and we waited outside for a few minutes for one of the techs who was able to let us in. Then it was a wait until 7am when the office doors were opened. 

Had to sign up on ultrasound, Dr Dv and blood work clipboards (I didn’t screw it up!) and then take a seat. I was first in line so I’m number one for ultrasound, two for the Dr Dv (she’s going to call me anyway) and three for bloodwork. 

Now to wait. 

(7:45am)

I was done inside 30 minutes. Told work I was going to be an hour later. Instead I’m 15 minutes early. Needless to say I’m giggling at my desk over the absurdity of it all. 

Dr Dv will give me a call later this morning to let me know when to come in next and if I should start my meds yet.

I also booked my 2nd tube test for January 14, which will be a bucket of fun I’m sure.

I did meet a couple of nice ladies in the line outside the office, one was a first timer like me, and the other is on her 2nd cycle. It felt good to recognize a couple of faces as I moved through the office.

(9:10am)

Oh, and I turned my ankle on a pothole in the middle of an intersection on my way to the clinic this morning, so my right ankle is screaming, my left wrist (from catching myself as I went down) aches and my left knee was scraped. And the system at work is down. Hopefully It’ll come back before the end of the day, we’re supposed to do OT tomorrow (Saturday).

It’s been a day folks. 

(10:20am)

Of course the doc called while I was in my daily meeting. 

Blood work was good. I’m going to start the meds today, I need to take them for 5 days. And I go back for the next cycle monitoring on Day 11, which is Saturday Jan 18. I’ll see Dr Dv that day and IUI should be within a few days of that. Got to try and remember to ask if I can pay admin fees early and what the process looks like on the IUI day. 

(4:05pm)

They system never came back up and OT for tomorrow is cancelled. Monday is gonna be an adventure for sure.

More to come…

January 11, 2020

So I haven't really updated about the rest of my life here. 

I move at the end of the month, currently the movers are booked for January 31, but I’m hoping to get that changed to January 29, the mover cost will go down by $30 an hour if I can get it 2 days earlier. I’m going to the co-op this coming wednesday so I can take some measurements for windows, I also want to take some pictures and get an idea on where the best place to park the moving truck is. I’m hoping the building has a service elevator and I won’t just have to use the main elevators. But I’m not counting on it. 

I’ve also been working on getting a promotion at work. It was supposed to come through in October but it didn’t. My manager just told me he was working on it. 

Well on New Years Eve I had a short conversation with him about leaving early, everyone else on the team had been bugging him about leaving 30 minutes early, at 4pm, but since 4pm is my regular end time i didn’t say anything. Until we got to 3:45pm and all my work was done, plus there was only a few end of day transactions left, so I asked if I could leave then and he told me I should stay and help my teammates finish their work. Needless to say I felt like he was saying I wasn’t a team player, and that really angered me. I ended up leaving at exactly 4pm without saying anything to anyone and it took a few days for me to calm down and not be so upset by it. After spending a couple of days thinking about it, I realized most of my anger was about my frustration over this promotion. So I went in and talked to him about it. I made sure to be clear that I was upset by the conversation we’d had, and he was very understanding. He appreciated me coming to him and apologized for what was mainly him not being clear and not really thinking about what I was asking for as a person, he was mostly focussed on the team as a whole. 

Then I explained my frustration over the promotion, and how it was mostly rooted in the fact that I didn’t know WHY it wasn’t happening. He explained that it was his and our directors fault, they were not being as quick as they should be in getting the new job description for my role completed. It’s annoying and very frustrating, but at least I know why, and it should be completely this month. Who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll backdate it, though I’m not holding my breath. 

Over all it’s been an interesting start to the year and the rest of 2020 is probably going to be just as fun. 

More to come….

January 13, 2020

So this entry might not stay in, but I feel the need to get some stuff off my chest.

Let me start by saying that I understand that I made the decision to take this journey on my own. I am fully aware that I don’t have anyone else going to appointments with me, or anyone holding my hand when I have procedures done. 

But nonetheless I’m disappointed. When I’ve spoken about this taking this journey with other people, I’ve gotten a lot of excited and happy responses. Everyone has been thrilled for me, and seemed really impressed that I’m going for this on my own. But once the journey actually started… things changed.

Either the people who said they wanted to be there aren’t, or they don’t seem at all interested in the process. I feel like I’m doing a lot of talking, providing a lot of information, that no one is asking for. I’ve made no secret of when my doctors appointments are, but I never get “hey, how’d it go?” from the people who, previously, were the most excited about it. 

So I’ve made the choice to stop talking about it, unless you ask. I’m starting to feel selfish and like I’m giving you too much information that you don’t want, and that’s not fair to you, or a good feeling for me. 

Instead I’ll focus on chronicling my journey here, and sharing with my support group. And if people want to know, or come to me with “why haven’t I gotten an update?” I’ll tell them. 

But I can’t be the one who starts every conversation. I can’t be the one always doing the reaching out. 

I’m going to start being selfish in a different way, I’m going to start taking care of myself. If you want to know, ask. And if you don’t, well, don’t worry, I won’t bother you with my issues from now on.

More to come… 

January 14, 2020

Today was my second tube test. To say I wasn’t looking forward to it is an understatement but I needed to get it done since one tube was blocked from view last time. The Dr Dv won’t do IUI if she sees the egg is about to release on the side that they couldn’t get a view of. And they won’t know which side it is until IUI day so I’d end up wasting over $1000 if they couldn’t get a clear view. 

So I got off work at 1pm and headed to the clinic. I was signed in (number 1 on the list) at 1:20pm and settled in for what I’d hoped would only be a 40 minute wait. 

Needless to say, when it hit 2:40 and I was still waiting, I was less than impressed. 

The nurse called me around 2:50 and told me I needed to pee in a cup so they could confirm I wasn’t pregnant. Then she took me to the room where I got undressed. And then proceeded to wait another 30 minutes. Twice someone came in and told me the Dr was delayed, the second time I was less than polite in my reply. 

Dr L came in about 3:20. He was nice enough, for someone who didn’t feel the need to even introduce himself. But he told me everything he was doing before he did it, told I was doing really well, and was done in under 5 minutes. So I’ve forgiven him for making me wait so fucking long. 

Anyway, both tubes are clear! 

On Saturday I’ll go in for another cycle monitoring appointment and see Dr Dv that day. She’ll have a better idea of when IUI day will be at that point. 

Holy crap I could be getting inseminated this time next week. That’s crazy. 

Now it’s home to do a bit of packing and go to bed early. 

More to come….

January 18, 2020 (7:50am)

Cycle monitoring again today. Getting up at 6am on a Saturday to get blood drawn and an ultrasound up my vagina is not a fun way to start the weekend. 

Doesn’t help that my stomach is unimpressed with me. Not sure if that’s nerves or what. I’m feeling a bit bloated and cramps, which is weird for this point in my cycle. It could be I’m hyper aware of my body because of this process, or maybe it’s the drugs. Or maybe it all in my head. Who knows. 

(10:45am)

Just got home from the appointment. Dr Dv says I have two nice looking follicles. One at 17mm one at 19mm. She wants to give the 17mm one another day to grow so I have to go back tomorrow. 

So it’s another trip downtown tomorrow to check on that, and if I haven’t surged they’re going to give me a trigger shot to ensure I ovulate in the following 36 hours. Then Monday I’ll go in for another ultrasound and bloodwork followed by the IUI. 

I’m fucking terrified. 

(10:20pm)

I’m getting ready for bed and all the sudden I’m feeling very melancholy. I assume it’s the medication making me emotional, but honestly…. I’m having some doubt. I’m all alone. And even though I know I have people I could call if I need help, I’m unreasonably upset that I need to ask for it. 

I fully admit that this is my problem, and not anyone else’s. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing someone would call and ask how things are going. Offer to help. Or even just want to hang out.  

I guess I’ve always been a loner, and if there isn’t an event of some kind, I’m not really the person people call just to chill. I don't really know why. And maybe I’m too old to change. 

Going to head to bed and hope tomorrow morning has me feeling better about everything. 

Another 6am day for cycle monitoring. 

More to come…

January 19, 2020 (7:38am)

Another day. Another cycle monitoring. 

Not feeling much better this morning. But all I can do is power through. I know I’m making the right choices for me, so a little doubt isn’t going to stop the journey now. 

January 20, 2020 (7:25am)

I wasn’t really in the mood to update yesterday. It took most of the day for me to shake the funk I’d gotten into. 

My bloodwork and ultrasound were good. Then I waited for quite awhile to see a Dr. Dr Dv wasn’t in yesterday so I ended up seeing Dr B. He was very nice and took the time to explain what would happen next, which I appreciated considering how insane the clinic was yesterday morning. 

He confirmed IUI for today, and said I needed the trigger shot. 

So after talking to him I went and waited for a few more minutes for the nurse who took me back for the shot and then explained the IUI-day process even more. 

She then took me to reception to pay for the trigger shot ($108) and the IUI admin fee ($495) before I was free to go. 

I decided to take today as a personal day since I’m not sure what the day is going to be like and I’m not feeling 100%, mentally, still. 

I got here at 6:30 this morning and waited, as always, for the clinic to open. At 7am I signed in for ultrasound, blood and to see Dr Dv. Since I was so high on the lists I decided to wait until after they were done to head to andrology to sign and have my donor sperm thawed and prepped. 

Blood and ultrasound went fine and the signing was quick. So now I’m waiting for the Dr to call me back. I’m not sure if I’m meeting her before I go back to be inseminated or not. 

But I do know I’ve got an hour before anything happens. Thankfully they’ve got wifi and I brought a book. 

(8:38am)

It’s been just over an hour and now I’m getting nervous again. 

I really don’t want to do this alone. But I’ll power through. 

(9:49am)

I’m lying here for the ten minute wait. The insemination went well and after this I just have to get my suppositories from the nurse and go home. 

Facebook just told me it’s apparently blue Monday, the most depressing day of the year. Not gonna lie, I kinda like that this was my insemination date. 

(11:45am)

It honestly doesn’t feel real. I’ll be using progesterone suppositories until February 2, when I go in for a pregnancy test. 

The dreaded two week wait. 

Thankfully I’ll be busy with packing, moving and unpacking which should hopefully keep me distracted enough to not obsess over it all. 

We’ll see. 

More to come….

January 21, 2020

So the last couple of days have been a bit of a train wreck for me, emotionally. I’ve just been feeling very down, and having some doubts about pretty much everything. I also didn’t get nearly as much packing done as I wanted to this weekend. 

But yesterday a friend reached out and asked me how the day went. It helped me remember that there are some people who care about what I’m going through right now.

Okay, that’s not fair. I know all of my friends and family care, but I can tell they don’t know how to handle this process, so they’ve pretty much decided to stay hands off. Which is their choice. It’s just a bit isolating.

Anyway, I texted with K for a bit and went to bed feeling less alone that I had during the day. 

Got up this morning and it’s back into the work routine. Unfortunately I wasn’t the only person who took an unexpected day yesterday, so the workload is a bit of a mess. And I had to make it clear to the team that I wouldn’t be working any overtime until after my January 29 move day, because I have too much to do.

Now to power through the rest of the day and get some packing done when I get home.

The next 12 days are going to be interesting, that’s for sure.

More to come…

[steviehaich]

I have returned. With news.

“What are you doing here?” my imaginary blogging community ask. Well, with cap in hand and tail between my legs I’d like to post a blog, for I have some news. BIG NEWS.

This is an ultrasound image of something Shelley and I have made. She will be incubating it within herself for approximately seven and a half more months as it’s seven weeks old. And It really is an ‘It’ because at its current size of 9.7mm the genitalia is far too microscopic to indicate It’s sex (Cue”just like it’s Dad” joke). Either that or the sex organs simply haven’t formed yet and I understand that the latter is a more accurate hypothesis.

We’ve been trying officially since the honeymoon in November (more on that later) so after eight months was beginning to worry that perhaps I didn’t have the weetabix to conceive – I’d even gone to the docs who made me a hospital appointment for jizz examination. While the appeal of a knocking one out into a tub in an unfamiliar setting was growing on me I was glad to have avoided the result-anxiety by receiving the good news the old fashioned way.

Shell had performed her precautionary monthly pregnancy test on the morning of Monday 19th June. Now, I didn’t know she took these precautionary tests, but I did know she used what we call ‘piss sticks’ (classy) to determine whether or not she was ovulating – this led to some confusion. In the haste of the morning rush Shell had left the test on the side of the bath and got dressed for work. Needless to say she forgot it was there and rushed out the door to catch her lift to work. I was off work due to the loss of my Uncle Ken on the weekend and got up a little later. I used the loo and spotted the plastic conception contraption loitering on the side, but being bleary eyed I dismissed any hygiene concerns and simply ignored it. Later that night I lay in bed reading while Shell brushed her teeth, then I hear,

“Steve, have you seen this?” “What?” I enquired. “The pregnancy test on the bath?” “Oh yeah, I saw it this morning actually.”

Shell enters the bedroom holding it by its slender neck. “Did you not think to look at it?” “No, I thought it was a just piss stick”

She then held the urine tainted stick up to my eyes, “Look.” There was a feint dark line running horizontally across the the small grey window.

“What does this mean?’ I asked, although I had an idea. “Well this is saying I’m pregnant.” “Wow…woah, no. Surely not. Has that been there all day?” “That’s what it says. It’s been there all day though so maybe the heat (we were in the middle of a heat wave) could have effected it? It is feint.” I agreed. The line was barely visible and we’d been trying for so long that I’d pretty much accepted my impotence. We shook it off and settled into bed vocally dismissing the result. Although I definitely went to sleep thinking, this could be it.

The next day Shell acquired another pregnancy test (from a handy stash I was unaware of) and I stood with her while she did the business, just to make sure there was no jiggery-pokery going on. We both stood looking at it holding it to the light. A minute passed – nothing.

“Nope, see.” Shell shrugged, handed me the stick and turned to wash her hands. “Ah man.” I sighed and held it closer to my face. “There is a little something there, I think.” Shell turned to look at it again. “It’s just the way you’re holding it to the light.” “No way, that’s getting darker.” The pregnancy indicator line I mean. “hmmmmm?” “Shell, that IS a line.” Shell took a step back. “I’m pregnant.” “You’re fucking pregnant!” We looked at each other, eyes stained with excitement and fear. Then my heart took over – I took Shells face in my hands, planted a smackeroo on her lips and began dancing. I hopped down the stairs and jigged up and down the front room singing “We’re pregnant, we’re pregnant!”. With a huge daunted grin on her face Shell told me not to get too excited, it was stupidly early day and anything could happen. My brother and sister-in-law were in the last stages of their pregnancy and had had an extremely rough ride, it had taken them three times to get this far so I was more than aware of how fragile that teeny little life was. But I thought ‘Sod it! This means we CAN have babies. My winky works! For now it’s just a matter of time.’

This is the second pregnancy test placed beautifully on top of one of our favourite wedding photos.

So, we paid to have an early scan. For £60 it seemed ridiculous not put our minds to rest – we just needed evidence that there was actually something in there. So on Saturday morning we headed to the imaging centre, a name which paints the picture of a plush photo studio not a room full of computer screens and leg stirrups (to be honest it was a nice little place, very private and it was just a bed – no stirrups). We had no reason to think there was anything wrong so right up until the moment we went in for the scan I was excited. But then I began shitting myself. I realised I’d be heartbroken if it wasn’t to be. Shell laid down and I pulled up a seat next to her. I took her hand and squeezed it so tightly she screamed. I was told to calm down before the process began.

We watched the screen in front and my heart sank. ‘There’s nothing there,’ I thought.

‘Yup, all looks fine,’ says the nurse with such flippancy I laughed. ‘Really? How?’

Nothing on that screen resembled anything like any other baby scan I’d ever seen, which is quite a few as of late. Then the nurse pointed to a little black orb and closed in on it’s teeny tiny heartbeat. I was made up. Then she played the audio of its heartbeat and it completely blew my mind. My legs went to jelly. It’s real. YES! IT’S FUCKING REAL! Shelley watched the screen like a do-eyed Cheshire cat as I asked question after question, mainly, ‘What’s that then?’ Followed by, ‘So what’s that then?’.

The bubba was just 9.7mm long and is due between 1st-3rd March 2018. Holy smokes. The second we left the building we looked at the pictures and jumped for joy. Granted, not much to see but that was ours, it IS ours – part of me and part of my wife in one heartbeat. We dutifully called our parents with the smashing news and treated ourselves to lunch in West Malling.

Ooh and here’s a fun fact about West Malling, turns out that in 1967 The Beatles began filming their movie Magical Mystery Tour in what is now a vacated kebab shop. It was was the icing on the cake.

I just want to clarify that I realise it’s still very early days (we’ve not even had the 12 week scan yet for Gods sake!) and obviously I’m nervous but I in all honesty just want to enjoy this moment. If this is the one, then I want It’s life from the very first moment. Positivity is key I tells ya!

Finally, and I don’t know how Shell will feel about me putting this out in to a public forum (although currently nobody reads this) but, we have worked out the conception date. Great huh? Now I know there’s no such thing as too much information so I’ll let you in the details. It’s highly likely to have occurred during and unusual and somewhat risky outdoor soirée that took place in the Kentish countryside – like a soldier on leave in the summer of 42′ having a fumble with a dishy Doris amongst the hay bales then sharing a post-cohetal cigarette. Be it with added anxiety, sweltering heat and nettles! It must of been that clean country that gave my little wrigglers a spring in their step. That egg was getting fertilised whether it liked it or not!

Time for a quick catch up

Right then, now let me quickly fill you in on what’s been going on this last year. Ok so, this time last year I was 10 days away from marrying my gorgeous wife Shelley. I had survived an awesome stag do arranged by my best man and brother Micky (we have the tattoos to prove it) and would be finalising plans for the big day – from table plans and table decor to speeches and payments.

The wedding day was monumental, the best day of my life and it went off without a hitch – with the exception of the ice cream man not turning up! We didn’t care though, the weather was perfect, Shell looked stunning (us boys looked pretty good too) the service was gorgeous and the barn looked better than anyone could have imagined. The food, the speeches, the band, the entertainment, the guests, the cars, everyone who helped…it was all just PERFECT. It was a celebration to end all celebrations, and we felt it in the morning. Clearing up was not a fun task and if I’m honest I was pretty useless. Thank God we had a mini moon to Menorca booked for the next day. That week abroad couldn’t have been more needed. Exploring a new area of Menorca as husband and wife felt great and we discovered some great places for next time – we drank, ate, chilled and spent frivolously. Coming back to reality hit me pretty hard. Harder than I ever actually imagined. I got depressed and anxious.

So, then we booked the REAL honeymoon – 3 weeks travelling across South Africa in November. We done it in style too. Cape Town, Robben Island, plush vineyards, whale spotting (humpbacks don’t ya know!) shark diving (yes, we got face to face with numerous great whites!), garden route, cave diving, Safari (what didn’t we see!), hospital in Durban thanks to food poisoning (although the food everywhere was awesome) and finishing with leatherback turtle spotting in the most luxurious resort I’ve ever seen let alone stay at. It was a trip of a lifetime and we can’t put into words how amazing it was. We felt free, it was so vast and ever changing and we had not a care in the world. We obviously plan to go back because there’s so much to see and do but I suppose, in reality it might never happen. Like I mentioned earlier, it was in South Africa that we officially began trying for a baby, although back then we cared less about ovulation times and stuff – if we got lucky, we got lucky.

I worried (makes a change) that returning from SA would hit me even harder than after the wedding but to be honest I was fine, it was just weeks until Christmas, work was going well and I just felt stupidly grateful for everything. And I still bloody do.

While all this was going on it was revealed that my bro and my sis-in-law were expecting. We, the whole family were obviously ecstatic but didn’t want to get too carried away as they’d gone through the torment of losing two previously in the early stages. We were all sickeningly upset but they’d been left completely heartbroken. Lauren was even pregnant at our wedding, they had an early scan which looked really positive but lost it just a week later while we were on our mini moon. It’s such a wake up call to how fragile life is at those early stages and how much love you can throw at it. Anyhow, that’s in the past and this pregnancy has run it’s course, oh and guess what? IT’S TWINS although it’s hasn’t been plain sailing for them. The two boys have caused their mum and dad (and all of us obviously) no end of worry – first, the bigger one was was taking all the nutrients resulting with Lauren needing a quite dangerous corrective procedure. Then, just weeks later all hell broke loose with the smaller having a bleed on the brain and Lauren needing another corrective procedure and blood transfusion which this time was very risky. For weeks it was touch and go and we all prepared ourselves for the worst. I was scared to answer my phone for such a long time. If my mum called me my heart sank and I’d try gauge by her tone what was coming. But thank god, the weeks past and the boys got stronger and stronger. Their due date was pushed back further and further, to 37 weeks! A miracle.

So on Thursday 29th June 2017 I became an Uncle. I’M A BLEEDING UNCLE!!! An uncle to two gorgeous little boys, Harry and George Holbrook. It was all a bit unexpected. After a procedural scan they kept Lauren over night and said it was on! We all went mad with excitement and about 24 hours later they were born. It’s genuinely mental, seeing the love those little boys have created but they aren’t out of the woods yet. They were born at 32 weeks And put straight into incubators, there’s been good days and bad days but they’re getting stronger by the day. Only mum and dad have had the honour of touching them and giving them a cuddle but they should be home before the end of the month – that’s when fun uncle Steve kicks into action. My bro and Lauren have been like rocks throughout, Lozza just incredible and, as his brother I’m so insanely proud of how Mick has dealt with it all. He’s an inspiration to me as a new dad and a husband – I just hope I’d be as strong he’s been. But please God let us have a smoother ride than they’ve had. The fun begins now for them, they’ll soon have two little rotters ruling the roost.

The magic moment

Harry

George

Lastly, some fucking shit news. My Uncle Ken died of lung cancer on Sat 17th June. He was something of a hero to me and it was all pretty sudden. We had a family get together on 30th March and he was fine and dandy, was a great day. Fast forward to Sat April 29th; We went round their house for brunch to say farewell to my cousin and her fella Jak as they were leaving for a long awaited trip away, travelling the world for 4 months. Ken was sick as a dog, thin and breathless. He’d been diagnosed with lung disease COPD and pneumonia, was on antibiotics and sure that he would get better. COPD is obviously a serious disease but not the death sentence that cancer can be..and was. Jo and Jak left on the Monday. My aunt took them to the airport and on her return found Ken blue and gasping for breath. He was rushed to hospital and it went downhill from there. After about a week it became clear just how serious it was, he needed a very risky op to put stents into his lungs. Up until then no one had told Jo and Jak , Kens choice as he didn’t want to ruin their trip for something he could beat but now they had to know. They flew back from Tokyo fearing Ken might be dead when they arrive. Luckily the op was a success and he improved greatly over the next few weeks. He also became strong enough for the docs to properly establish the extent of his condition, he hadn’t even been diagnosed as having cancer at this point – although it was apparently obvious. He was finally diagnosed with Jo and my aunts Sue finding out through a disgusting admin error. With his condition changing daily he spent the rest of his life in Barts hospital looked after by a superb team. After a short period of radiation treatment it became clear there was nothing that could be done. He was put into palliative care on the Tuesday and died on the Saturday evening. I was going to visit on the Sat morning but he’s lost consciousness in the early hours. I visited his a couple of times in hospital and he was full of spirit both times, cracking jokes and telling stories although weak and struggling for breath. I’ve never seen anything like it. I have so much to thank my uncle for and he left the world with dignity. My aunt, cousin and her now fiancée Jak (he proposed while Ken was in hospital, he’s a great bloke and bought some joy during a mental time) are doing as well as can be expected and I’ll do my best to be there if ever they need me. I gave a reading at the funeral and they send off was fantastically personal and messy – a celebration Ken would be proud of. Click the link at the bottom to read my reading.

So yes, the last few months have been a roller coaster and a half. Sadness and joy doing combat, but I’m assured that joy will always prevail. Hey, we found out Shell was pregnant just 2 days after Ken died, did he give us a helping hand? I’ll always wonder. I’ll do my best to make him/her an Arsenal fan in his honour, just wonder what my West Brom wife will have to say about it.

I’m an Uncle and as things stand going to be a Dad. Fuck, I’m turning into an adult.

For Ken

I have returned. With news. "What are you doing here?" my imaginary blogging community ask. Well, with cap in hand and tail between my legs I'd like to post a blog, for I have some news.