#and ive got an important appointment this week

[ofthehands]

TCM Ship Week @maskemasker

Day 1: Clothes Swap

Ship: Lefton

Word Count: 2,500

Warnings: Thoughts of violence, canon typical attitudes, lighthearted attempted murder, and general Sawyerisms

It was hard to say how exactly it had come to all this. How his parents’ attempt at socializing Drayton a little so he wasn’t a complete freak and could keep up appearances when cops came sniffing around, had led to his… problem with the neighbor boy. But somehow, that single silly misstep had led to a whole world of trouble. 

It wasn’t that big of a problem when they were teens at least. Then it had been nothing but a dangerous game of chicken- getting closer- brushing against one another- seeing who would pull away first. The issue came when while they were drunk on his old man’s stolen liquor, Enright had moved to press their lips together, and Drayton hadn’t thought to pull away at all. Drunk he didn’t think too much about it, but try as they might, they couldn’t stay drunk forever. 

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. 

But it did. And they couldn’t exactly pretend it was a game anymore. 

So from that point on, they both treated it a little more seriously. Both in earnesty and fear. They both knew damn well that this thing between them would have to be kept hidden. Close to their chests. But Drayton was good at keeping secrets anyways. 

It didn’t have to be significant. Eventually, certainly, Enright would move on- find a girl to be with and forget all of whatever the hell this was. Or at least that’s how it should’ve gone. Would’ve gone too, if Drayton weren’t the unluckiest bastard to ever walk the Earth. 

As it did happen, Enright got… fixated. In some strange way. Determined it was more than some fucked up childish thing they were doing. Convinced it was something sinful, and horrible, but in some way real. Drayton was alright with that- maybe he could convince Enright to see his way- convince him that the Sawyer family way was right- since he was interested in the unnatural and sinful. But suddenly, without so much as a goodbye, he up and disappeared for a few months. Drayton figured he finally found something better- something real- and decided to stop fooling around like they had been. Until one day Enright had the nerve to show back up, meeting him at the gas station, proudly wearing a uniform that marked him as something much more horrible than a bit queer. Drayton felt like he might faint right then and there. He knew then they had no future together, no life where happiness could be theirs. 

In the time he was away, Lefty had become a cop. 

“Sawyer! How’ve you been?” he asked, friendly as ever. 

“Good Lord- Lefty- w- what the hell are you wearin’?” He looked down at that dorky little uniform, his big blue eyes wide with confusion. 

“Well, I uh- I just finished up academy training and now I’m a-”

“A cop,” Drayton finished for him. 

“I mean, yeah, I’m an officer of Muerto County and-”

“What would you wanna go off and turn into a cop for?” Drayton asked, a little more anger in his voice than he probably should’ve let slip. 

“Well I just- I mean- I wanna help people. Protect ‘em. And here in Muerto County we have one of the highest rates of disappearances in the state! Goin’ back to the 1890’s- it’s an epidemic!” Lefty paused for just a moment, giving Drayton time to spiral as he thought about what would happen to him if Lefty kept digging into those disappearances. “That… That ain’t gonna be a problem, is it?” he asked. Drayton tensed up a little, involuntarily. “That I’m a cop?” He knew what he had to do next. 

“What? Oh, nah,” he said, trying to smile, trying to look relaxed. “Just surprised is all. Always thought you’d work with cattle, like your daddy or… or be a preacher or somethin’.” Lefty smiled, a bit more relaxed, and Drayton couldn’t look him in the eye. They talked some more, about something Drayton couldn’t really remember. He just kept thinking about what he had to do next. 

Which was how they ended up where they were. Lefty sound asleep in the Sawyer home’s guest bedroom. Drayton standing over the bed with an axe. Getting ready to do what had to be done. To stop him from becoming a problem. 

He just wished it was easier. Wished he could just do it- like a man- like Grandpa would’ve. Wished Lefty would wake up suddenly and fight him- give him a reason to do it. Wished he wouldn’t smile softly in his sleep. But wishing wasn’t liable to get him anywhere. Drayton had no choice. He had to act. He raised the axe above his head. Lefty moved then- suddenly, and Drayton tensed, got ready to swing- but he didn’t wake up. He wriggled a bit, pushing the blanket down, worming his way up. Too hot. A treacherous fondness settled in Drayton’s chest at that. Lefty found some comfortable spot, still sound asleep, blissfully unaware. He looked small in the simple cotton shirt Drayton had loaned him. Lefty was broad-chested, but short. And that shirt was a bit too big on Drayton. Drayton wondered briefly if he’d ever be able to wear that shirt again. Considering the state it would be in shortly. Then he swung the axe. 

“Psst!!” The sudden noise made him jump out of his skin as quietly as he could, and his axe swing missed, planting the head firmly in the bed frame- only inches from Lefty’s skull. 

“I’ll be up in just a minute,” Lefty muttered, somehow still mostly asleep. Drayton turned, pissed off, glaring at the door. The twins were looking at him there with big eyes, more quiet than they usually were. 

“What the hell do you little rats want?” Drayton whispered, trying his damndest not to yell, despite how much he wanted to. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“The cars with the lights is b-back,” Bobby whispered in turn. Drayton tensed. The cars with the lights. 

“The one that took Daddy-” Nubbins tried. 

“I know,” Drayton snapped, a little louder than he should’ve. “At the house?”

“They’re by the- the cattle guard.” 

“Oh hell. Oh for fuck’s sake-” The house was clean, on the first floor. Drayton had to clean it up to get Lefty in- to lure the other over for dinner and then into bed to kill him. But there were too many bones on the Sawyer property to ever clean up, and if they got into the basement there was too much blood there to ever clean out. Drayton needed to keep them away- to keep them from getting too close. But they had no reason to listen to him and every reason to distrust him. He turned, between the boys and Lefty, trying to figure out his next step. Then he saw Lefty’s little cop uniform. He’d worn it over to show the boys, proud of what he’d gone and done, not realizing they wouldn’t think highly of it. It was silly- at best- a size too big on his vertically challenged frame. But it gave Drayton an idea. He pulled the axe from the bed frame as quietly as he could and passed it to the boys. “Alright, take this downstairs, and I’ll meet you there. There’s somethin’ I gotta do real quick.” 

Drayton felt utterly stupid jingle jangling his way down the stairs in that uniform. He scratched the back of his neck and considered his hair for a moment. They’d made Lefty cut his hair. Would his overgrown hair give him away? The way he spoke? The way he stood? What happened if they realized he wasn’t really Officer Enright? He didn’t know. But he had to do something. So he went out and got in the truck. 

He stopped at the end of the driveway, where the cops were waiting, just lurking in the early light of dawn. He stepped out of the truck and pulled his- well, Lefty’s- belt up, the way cops did. There were two of them, just standing around, looking at something in the brush. Scanning. Looking for something. Drayton swallowed heavily. 

“Howdy fellas,” he said. “What uh- seems to be the problem?” 

“Well, Mr. uh-”

“Enright,” Drayton said. He had to lie- the damn uniform said Enright. He hoped they wouldn’t catch him there- hoped they didn’t know Lefty, hoped he hadn’t said it with too little confidence. 

“Well, Mr. Enright,” the taller of the two said, “We come over here from Hale County on account of somethin’ about a missin’ girl.” Oh hell. 

“Well uh…” If Drayton lied - told them he’d heard nothing about any missing girl- he figured they might get suspicious. “I.. I hate to say it but, we’ve had a lot of disappearances out here… I’m… I’m kind of new on the force, I don’t think I’d be able to help you much with that, but if you head on to Childress-” 

“Oh yeah, we were ‘bout to head on that a way,” said the shorter cop- the one with a cigarette between his stained teeth.  He blew a little smoke at Drayton as he spoke. Drayton had smoked plenty himself as a teen, but that pissed him off anyways. 

“Well,” Then get the hell out of my county- “What’s got you stoppin’ here?” He tried to seem amiable, tried to stifle his nervous laugh, bouncing on his heels a little. He wasn’t sure how well he succeeded. 

“She stopped at a gas station just down the way. Nobody’s seen her up in Childress, from what information the folks at the station gave us- but that was just from callin’ in. We stopped ‘cause this is the first house we seen out here for miles. Seems like somewhere that if somethin’ happened to her car she might’ve gone.” Drayton swallowed. 

“Well, this is my family’s home. Lived here for generations. There ain’t really anybody out here but us. And if a lady’d come by, well I…I’m pretty good with cars, I prob’ly could’ve fixed it up. And if not, I could’ve given her a ride to the station.” The taller one nodded.

“Yeah… We didn’t really know who was livin’ out here, but… knowin’ it’s y’all does make me feel a little better,” the taller one said. 

“You sure there ain’t nobody else around here?” asked the smoker. 

“Positive,” Drayton said. He chuckled a little, “You think I don’t know my own backyard?” The two exchanged a look and Drayton considered for a brief moment trying to grab one’s gun and shooting the other with it, before the taller one spoke up again. 

“Well, I think we’d ought to get out to Childress now. Thanks for talkin’ with us, Enright. And uh, by the way, get a haircut, alright? And maybe some boots that match your uniform.” Drayton hadn’t thought about the shoes- hell. 

“Oh uh- yessir- sorry sir-” Drayton felt embarrassed and he wasn’t even quite sure why. But that seemed to shine through in his face, and they accepted it and moved on. As they drove away Drayton let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, and got back into his truck. 

When he got home the boys hadn’t cut each others’ hands off with the axe and Lefty still seemed to be sound asleep. He snatched the axe from his brothers, putting it too high for the grubby bastards to reach before they got any ideas, and headed up the stairs, trying to quietly return the borrowed clothes. 

He opened the door more delicately than he had ever done before. Lefty was still there. His breathing wasn’t as deep, so Drayton figured he was at least half awake. Drayton slipped in the room, closing the door behind him. He looked around the room, filling with soft morning light. It was peaceful in a way the Sawyer house never really was. It felt like a dream. Like something unreal. He turned, for a moment, and looked at the broken, dusty full length mirror that sat on the floor. His reflection was distorted, by the angle and the dust and the spiderweb cracks across the glass. But he could still see it. It was strange, to see himself in a uniform- especially that uniform. Maybe he could’ve done something like that. Signed up with the cops or the military. Found some way out of this place. But that wasn’t where he belonged, or what he got to have. He was a Sawyer. He would live and die on that farm, with his family. He had no choice to go anywhere else. That was his lot in life. 

Drayton almost jumped out of his skin when Lefty put his arms around him from behind. 

“D’ah- Shit! What in the hell-” He jerked back a little but stopped himself from elbowing his… friend in the jaw. 

“Oh, sorry- didn’t mean to scare you-” Lefty muttered, face pressed to his back, arms wrapped gently behind his waist. Drayton settled a little, despite himself. He moves quiet when he wants to. Good to keep that in mind. “What’re you up to?” Lefty asked. 

“Well uh- I was just- uh…” It was easier to lie to him like this- when he didn’t have to look him in the eyes.  Drayton could just barely see him in the mirror behind him, a bit of Lefty’s mousey hair visible over his shoulder. But Drayton was struggling to think of something to say regardless. Lefty peeked up, looking over Drayton’s shoulder at the mirror. 

“It looks good on you,” Lefty said. “You’d make a fine lookin’ officer.” Drayton outright laughed at that. 

“Yeah, sure, you damn fool.” He turned around, away from that dusty reflection and back to reality. There were things Drayton would’ve liked to have been if he wasn’t a Sawyer. A damn cop wasn’t one of ‘em. He looked down at Lefty, still wearing his too big cotton shirt and ratty old sleepin’ pants. He thought about how close he had come to putting an axe through his skull. Then he kissed him, a quick, gentle peck on the lips. “Alright, that’s enough messin’ around. Let’s get all this switched back.” They exchanged clothes as quickly and modestly as they could, till everything was back to mostly normal. Drayton could still smell Lefty a bit, on that shirt. Feel his warmth. He wondered, with the state it was in, if he’d ever be able to take it off. Then he looked back at Lefty. 

He knew he should probably kill him. Find some way to do it quick, since he had the space and the time and the advantage. That boy was going to cause him a world of trouble one day. He could feel it all the way to his bones. But he could take care of that another day. For the time being, he decided to just enjoy the early morning sun.

[zeawesomebirdie]

I don't think I'll ever complain about having nothing to do again

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (9/?)

Part Summary: You get more than you bargained for on Halloween

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader, temporary Leigh x Danny | Word count for this part: 7.300+ | Warnings: Light angst, R and Leigh being obtuse | Author's Note: Longest chapter so far (and about 90% of it is just Leigh and R)! I have officially written another novel length fic with this update. From a two-shot to this? Wouldn't be possible without everyone's support. Thank you, everyone. I have a little treat for you at the end.

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

-

Despite Leigh's promise to bring Logan in for his vaccinations, she missed the appointment again for the second time. Understanding that life gets hectic, you decide that rather than seeing Logan miss another round of critical vaccinations, you'll take matters into your own hands and arrange a home visit at the Shaw’s.

On the day of the visit, you discover that Logan has gained 2.5 pounds in just two weeks. The drastic weight gain might indicate that he’s not a purebred Shih Tzu as you originally thought when you got him, or Leigh has been feeding him more than the recommended serving size. You can feel Logan’s solid back as you hold him in place while you administer the vaccine on his scruff. Leigh appears nervous, and if you weren’t determined to scold her after completing Logan’s immunizations, you might have found it adorable.

“Just a quick pinch, buddy,” you murmur soothingly to the anxious pup. Logan yelps as the needle pierces his skin, but within two seconds, it’s over. You rub his neck to distract him from the sting of the medicine, then return to your insulated bag to dispose of the syringe. Leigh watches closely as you finish with Logan, a slight frown creasing her forehead. You notice she's dressed in what you figure is her nightwear—a thin olive camisole and matching capri pants. It seems too dressed down for receiving a guest.

“Why are these vaccines so important, anyway?” she asks lightly, but you don’t miss her apprehension behind it. “I mean, he'll mostly be indoors…”

The frustration from her missing two appointments sneaks into your voice as you say, “Vaccines can mean the difference between life and death for puppies. Take the parvovirus—it's lethal and spreads quickly.”

Leigh nods, taking in the weight of your words. You notice her swallow, perhaps realizing the graveness of her oversight. “I didn't realize it was that serious,” she murmurs.

You catch yourself, realizing you might be coming across as harsher than necessary. “It's alright, Leigh. That's exactly why I came here,” you say mildly. You've dealt with many uneducated dog owners before, and Leigh is no different. You know you need to be patient with her, just as you have been with others, and you remind yourself not to let your personal feelings interfere with your professional opinions.

Logan wiggles happily at your feet, seemingly forgiving you for the shot already. “And another thing,” you add, glancing down at Logan’s round belly, “he’s put on quite a bit of weight. We need to watch his diet. Too much food isn’t good for him either.”

Leigh looks slightly embarrassed. “I guess I've been spoiling him with extra treats,” she admits. “I'll be more careful with that.”

“It’s okay. I know how hard it is to say ‘no’ to that face,” you say, smiling at Logan while you rub his chin. “Just keep to the recommended portions, and he’ll be in good shape.”

As you gather your things to leave, you remember Logan's vaccine card. After filling out the final details, you head towards the kitchen where Leigh has silently drifted off. She's busying herself with breakfast on the stove when you approach.

“Here's Logan's vaccine card,” you say, handing it to her. “He needs another dose in two weeks, so don't forget to schedule that in.”

“Thank you,” Leigh says, accepting the card with a nod. “I won't forget this time.”

The aroma of coffee wafts through the room, tickling your nose.

“I've just made some coffee. Would you like to stay for breakfast?” Leigh asks.

You hesitate, considering the offer, but you’re inclined to refuse, still irked by her missing the previous appointments. “I’m good, thanks,” you say, a bit too briskly. Leigh's face falls slightly, a look of disappointment flashing across her eyes before she gives you a small, resigned smile and turns back to the stove.

You start to leave but something stops you—the frustration from Leigh’s no-shows running over. 

“Leigh, can I ask why you didn’t make it to the clinic? And not even a text,” you find yourself saying as you spin on your heels to face her. “It’s not just unprofessional—it hurts more coming from a friend.”

“If you have a problem with me, it’s perfectly okay to transfer Logan to another clinic as long as you’ll follow through with his appointments,” you suggest, noting her standing there, mouth agape, her vivid green eyes sharply focused. Getting that off your chest didn't bring the relief you expected. Instead, you're left with a sinking feeling of regret. Looking back on your words, you realize how petty they must have sounded.

Leigh on the other hand, is momentarily stunned by your outburst, her eyes wide as she absorbs your words. Then, something shifts in her expression, a flicker of intrigue crossing her features before she clears her throat and apologizes.

“I'm really sorry,” she says sincerely, turning off the stove and setting down her spatula. “I didn't handle things well, and you were right to call me out on it.” Leigh takes a careful step closer, causing you to instinctively step back until your lower back meets the edge of the dining table. You weren't expecting Leigh to be so understanding, leaving you unsure of how to react. Should you apologize for getting upset?

Fortunately, Leigh doesn't leave you to dwell on your thoughts for long. She continues, “Why don't you stay for breakfast? I can whip up something nice, and we can catch up like we used to. Please, let me make it up to you.”

Feeling like an absolute fool and still grappling with the aftertaste of your flare-up, you find yourself in a quandary. Rejecting her offer would just drag out this uncomfortable moment even longer, which is the last thing you want. Besides, your stomach is growling—you haven’t eaten anything since you got here, and the smell of brewing coffee is too good to ignore.

“Alright,” you relent, glancing down at your feet. “That sounds good.”

Leigh looks relieved. “Perfect, just give me a minute,” she says, clapping her hands together as she turns back to her cooking.

You linger awkwardly, still standing. “Need a hand with anything?” you ask.

“Just sit there, be all pretty, and relax.”

That little compliment makes your cheeks burn even hotter. If you weren’t so distracted by your hunger and embarrassment, you'd swear it’s almost as if she’s flirting with you.

Wait.

Is she?

Then, as if the universe can hear you thinking, Leigh’s phone buzzes loudly on the kitchen counter. She snatches it up, and even though you can’t see her face, you can tell she’s happy he called as she chirps, “Hey, Danny.”

Right. Danny Greer. That name shatters your brief daydream. Suzie was right—you're too close, and it's clouding your judgment. Leigh laughs into the phone, and you look away just in time for her to turn slightly and steal a glance at you.

Alright, you think, that's it. After this breakfast, it's time to really put some space between you and Leigh. You need to clear your head and let her have her space too. It's the best move, for the sake of your friendship and your sanity.

As Leigh busies herself in the kitchen, you find yourself aimlessly scrolling through your phone, not really focusing on anything. The sound of her laughter while she talks to Danny floats over to you, making you regret agreeing to stay for breakfast and blame your inability to say no to her.

She ends the call with a lingering smile and soon approaches with two plates in hand. Each has a stack of pancakes and two sunny-side-up eggs with the edges just crisped up how you like them. The fact that Leigh remembered leaves you speechless. It’s a small detail, but it makes you guilty for brooding and feeling all jealous. 

“I hope you still like your eggs this way,” Leigh says as she sets the table.

“Thank you,” you say warmly as Leigh pours coffee for both of you. Recalling her preference, you offer to add two sugars to her cup, and she rewards you with a small, appreciative smile. She then grabs the syrup from the fridge, along with two sets of utensils, and places them on the table.

You take a bite of the fluffy pancakes, perfectly cooked and deliciously light. “These are amazing, Leigh,” you say enthusiastically.

Leigh beams, standing a bit taller with pride instead of dismissing the praise. “I'm glad you think so! I've been working on perfecting the recipe.”

“Seriously, Leigh, you could sell these.”

She laughs. “Keep the compliments coming and I might just make you breakfast more often.”

You almost choke at her words. You really should take a little break from Leigh until you can get this crush under control. Even simple remarks are starting to feel like a tightrope walk.

Leigh tilts her head slightly, a coy look crossing her face. “So…” she drawls, leaving the word hanging as she waits for you to look up from your plate.

You stop chewing once you sense her heavy gaze on you. “Hmm?”

Leaning in slightly, she lowers her voice as though about to share a secret. “This Sara... is she a friend of yours? Someone new around here?”

The piece of pancake suddenly feels like a mouthful of sawdust as you process her question. You grab your coffee and take a quick gulp to help wash it down. “I, uh, met her on a dating app, actually,” you say.

Leigh's eyebrow arches. “Oh?” 

There’s a short, tense period where you repeatedly stab your pancake and tap your foot rapidly against the leg of the stool you’re sitting on, while Leigh twirls her hair around her finger, lost in thought.

“She’s gorgeous,” Leigh finally says. “I didn’t know you were into women.” That is, unless you and the person from her advice column are one and the same. She's chosen to approach what she's dubbed the “EspressoEyes conundrum” as a Schrödinger’s cat scenario, where you simultaneously do and do not have feelings for Leigh.

You fiddle with your coffee mug. “Yeah, I think I've mentioned that before,” you say, though your memory suddenly feels unreliable.

Leigh shakes her head, certain. “No, you definitely haven't told me that.”

“Well, yes, I'm into women, but obviously I like men too,” you say, deciding it's perhaps better to just be clear. 

“We're the same then,” she says casually, as if discussing something as mundane as their taste in movies.

“Really?” You’re hoping Leigh is buying the faux surprise on your face, even though Jules had let slip about Leigh's college days.

“Yeah,” Leigh nods. “I had a serious relationship with a woman back in college. It's not something I talk about much, but it's part of who I am.”

“I see.”

Leigh takes a slow sip of her coffee, eyeing you over the rim of her mug with a slight tilt of her head. 

“So, do you like her? Sara, I mean,” she asks.

“Yeah, she’s great. We get along really well.”

Leigh sets her coffee cup down with a small clink, not missing a beat. “Have you guys...you know, slept together?” she asks, more bluntly than before.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, feeling a bit like you’re under interrogation. “Um…no, we haven’t.” 

A quick glint flashes in her eyes before it vanishes. Her shoulders relax as she leans back in her chair. “Sorry, that was out of line,” she mumbles with a curt, dismissive laugh. “I guess I'm just being nosy.”

The way she said it doesn't truly suggest she's sorry for crossing some lines, but you’re not focusing on that. Rather, you feel like you’ve earned the right to ask Leigh some questions about her own personal affairs.

“And you?” you start, trying to sound flippant. “How are things with you and Danny?”

Leigh matches your nonchalance as she stands up to gather the empty plates from the table. There's a smooth, practiced ease in the way she begins cleaning up, letting you know she's not about to let your questions corner her.

“Things are... going,” she replies, keeping it vague. “Danny's great. We're figuring things out as we go.”

“Where'd you meet him?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“He's Matt's brother,” Leigh says flatly, without flinching. You have to give it to her for being so straightforward about it. Not that you’re judging Leigh or anything—it’s just that moving from in-laws to lovers is quite an unconventional transition.

It’s also possible that you’re just bitter.

“Did you always find him attractive?” you ask, almost spitefully, curiosity getting the better of you. Leigh freezes, her back going rigid at your callous words. There's a moment of visible tension, but then she lets out a slow breath and lets it slide. She had been quite direct in probing about your dating life, so perhaps this levels the playing field.

“No, it wasn’t like that,” Leigh says slowly. “I—”

“Oh hey, Y/N, it's been a while!”

Neither of you heard the front door open. Jules bursts in, holding Logan who's wagging his tail wildly at the sight of familiar faces, both oblivious to the cutting atmosphere they've just entered.

“Oh hey, Y/N, it's been a while!” Jules exclaims. She looks between you and Leigh. “Am I interrupting something?” she asks, noticing the residual stiffness in the air. 

“Y/N was just leaving,” Leigh says. 

You don’t need to be told twice. “Hey, Jules,” you say with a short wave. “I just came to give Logan his shots.” 

Jules frowns slightly as you start to leave so soon after her arrival. You reach over to give Logan a quick pat on the head. Turning to Leigh, you manage a tight smile and say, “Thanks for the breakfast.”

As soon as you're out the door, Jules turns to Leigh with a worried look. “What was all that about?” she asks softly.

Leigh shrugs, her expression inscrutable. “I don’t know what you mean,” she replies evenly, turning away to busy herself with the dishes.

-

You get into your car but instead of starting it, you just sit there motionless. Your hands rest aimlessly on the wheel as you lose yourself in thought.

Here’s the truth about Sara:

She's exactly your type on paper—blonde, blue-eyed, stunning. But despite all that, she hadn't managed to hold your attention. Her beauty just couldn't pull your mind away from Leigh, from her vivid green eyes that always seemed to see right through you.

The silence in the car allows you to realize what an odd question you had thrown at Leigh about Danny. You realize just how inappropriate it might have seemed, how it must have sounded coming from a place of jealousy rather than concern.

Why did you even ask that? The answer is uncomfortably clear: you can't be just friends with Leigh. Not anymore. You’ve been lying to yourself, hoping things would just sort themselves out. But they won’t. Not like this. You can’t keep doing this to yourself—or to her. 

Because right now, this friendship, if you can even call it that, is doing more harm than good.

-

“It’s not working.”

Suzie looks up from her clipboard, startled. Her red locks tumble across her face as she tilts her head, brushing them back with a quick flick of her hand.

“Seeing other people, you mean?” she asks, already guessing the root of your distress.

You run a hand through your hair, messing up your low ponytail. Frustrated, you decide to let your hair loose from the tie altogether. 

“I thought if I met someone like Sara—someone who’s practically a checklist of everything I find attractive—it would make things easier. But it’s just... not.” You massage your temples, as if trying to rub away the spell Leigh seems to have cast on you. “She's perfect, but she's not Leigh. And no matter how hard I try, I can't stop thinking about Leigh.”

“You're right about one thing though,” Suzie says, getting back to her task.

“Which is…?” 

“That Sara’s perfect,” she chuckles, and you can't help but roll your eyes. “Look, you can’t force these feelings. If your heart’s not in it, it’s not in it.”

“So…Should I keep seeing her? Maybe she’ll grow on me or something.”

Suzie stops and gives you a serious look. “Maybe. But love shouldn't feel like an obligation, you know? It’s not fair to either of you if you’re just waiting to see if you’ll catch feelings.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” you acknowledge with a sigh. “She’s everything I thought I wanted. And I think she likes me.”

“Sometimes what we think we want isn’t what we really need,” Suzie answers. “Why not take a break? Give yourself some space to think. It might help you figure out what really works—whether it’s Sara, someone else, or just time to yourself.”

“You think so?”

Suzie gives a small shrug. “Look, I don’t have all the answers.”

Hearing that makes you feel a tad embarrassed. You’ve been leaning on her for advice a lot lately, and it’s probably awkward for her, especially since you're her boss. Maybe she’s just being nice because she has to be.

“Thanks, Sue,” you say, standing up from your chair to head back to your office. “I appreciate you listening to all this.”

She smiles back, and you can tell she’s relieved to move on from the subject. Suzie might not have all the answers, but maybe there’s another place you can find them.

-

That night, in your bedroom, you settle in front of your laptop, the cursor blinking expectantly on the blank submission form of the advice column. You type in your handle—EspressoEyes—a moniker you’d used before, thinking it would increase your chances of being noticed again. Quickly, you type out your query and hit send, watching as it disappears into the digital ether. No sooner have you shut your laptop than your phone rings. It’s your mom.

“Hey, Mom,” you answer, shifting to sit against your headboard.

“Hi, sweetheart! Are you coming home for Thanksgiving? We’re starting to plan the menu and would love to have you,” she says. Your chest tightens. Just hearing her voice makes you feel like you’re already home. You pretend to think for a second, considering your rather empty social calendar.

“Yeah, I’ll come home,” you decide, realizing it might be nice to get away for a bit.

“Oh good! It’s been too long. We’ll make sure to have all your favorites,” she chatters on, already listing the dishes that would normally make you salivate. But these days, you just don’t have the appetite for food.

“Sounds great, Mom. Really looking forward to it.” 

You hang up with a promise to send your flight details soon. Setting your phone down, you feel a slight relief at the thought of escaping to a place where no one knows about the mess you’re in.

-

Leigh can’t sleep. She lies wide awake, staring at the ceiling while Danny's snores fill the room. The weight of his arm draped over her stomach feels stifling, trapping her in place. She can’t breathe. Carefully, so as not to wake him, she slips out from under his arm and tiptoes out of the bedroom. In the hallway, she grabs one of his shirts hanging over a chair and slips it on. It smells like sandalwood and something uniquely him—comforting yet somehow off-putting at the same time.

She pads into the kitchen to boil some water, the soft click of the stove burner igniting a comforting sound in the otherwise quiet apartment. With the kettle on, she wanders into the living room, pulling Danny's shirt closer around her. Even with the windows closed, the crisp chill of autumn seeps in.

Sitting on the couch, Leigh pulls her knees to her chest. The post-sex cocktail of oxytocin and vasopressin usually knocks her out, but tonight they fail her. Instead, her mind is filled with doubts and the urge to flee from any kind of closeness.

She remembers the last conversation with you, the disapproval on your face when you finally mentioned her relationship with Danny. It troubles her more than she expected. Were you right? Is she just scrambling to fit someone, anyone, into her life, even if it means ignoring the screams inside her head telling her to run?

The kettle whistles, snapping her out of her thoughts. She makes her tea and settles back into the couch, stirring slowly as she thinks about what it might mean to step back from everything—Danny, you, all of it.

With nothing but time until sleep takes her or the sun rises—whichever comes first—Leigh picks up her phone to distract herself. She scrolls through social media, news articles, anything to keep her mind off the spinning thoughts. Eventually, she wanders to the advice column inbox to check on the latest submissions.

Her breath catches in her throat when she sees another entry from EspressoEyes, a handle she recognizes—possibly yours. It reads:

“Is it wise to pursue other relationships if you have strong feelings for someone else? That someone is a friend, and staying just friends is becoming increasingly difficult. My feelings seem to be putting a strain on our relationship. Should I give myself some space?”

Leigh reads the message two more times. She sets her phone down, her thumb instinctively finding its way to her mouth where she nibbles at the nail, a nervous habit when she’s thinking long and hard. And the more she thinks about it, the more obvious it becomes. Of course, she's the friend you're talking about. This is you, openly struggling with your feelings for her. She had hoped things might change, might become less complicated when Sara came into the picture, but she was mistaken. 

When she asked about Sara, Leigh was trying to gauge your feelings for her, wondering if Sara's presence meant she didn't need to worry about whether you were EspressoEyes or not. In her mind, if you were involved with Sara, it would imply you weren't interested in Leigh. But she surprised even herself by asking if you had slept with Sara, unsure why she needed to know that detail. Deep down, she couldn’t openly admit just how relieved she felt when you told her you hadn’t.

Leigh picks up her phone again and starts typing out a reply to the submission. When she’s done she tosses her phone somewhere on the couch and goes back to her tea. Sitting there, she watches as the sky outside shifts from dark to a wash of pastels. 

-

A week later, Leigh’s phone vibrates incessantly on the table, the screen lighting up with Danny's name again. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she turns it off and sets it aside. They've been cycling through breakups and makeups so often it's exhausting—a twisted routine, one that's leaving her more drained each time. 

It's Halloween, and since she and Danny are off again, Leigh decides to take the night for herself. She picks Matt's favorite restaurant, which is fully decked out for the holiday, with jack-o'-lanterns lining the walls and eerie candles flickering on each table. She orders a pumpkin-spiced latte and a small plate of appetizers, settling in to enjoy her evening solo. Later, she’ll have that tiramisu that her late husband so adored.

Matt always loved this holiday because it was the one time of year Leigh would indulge him by dressing up as whatever comic book character he was into at the moment. They'd start the evening here for pre-dinner celebrations before meeting up with friends and family later on. But tonight, there are no costumes for Leigh; she's dressed simply in jeans and a cardigan, her face free of makeup, her hair tucked behind her ears to keep it out of the way while she eats. 

As she waits, she watches families and couples in costumes come and go, a bittersweet creeping up at her.

Then, you walk in. You’re dressed sharply, scanning the room like you're meeting someone—on a date. Leigh catches her breath. Were you aware that this was Matt’s favorite restaurant? Moreover, it’s been almost two weeks since that awkward morning when you left in a haste. You haven’t noticed her yet. Leigh watches you for a moment, debating what to do. She’s torn between going over or staying put. The last she contributed to the advice column, she’d left a message she hoped you'd find useful if you were indeed the person she’s been advising to. From the look of things, maybe you were taking that advice after all.

Taking a deep breath, Leigh stands and walks over. As you turn and notice her, a small, tentative smile appears on her lips when your eyes meet.

“Hey.”

You return the smile, though it's imbued with a bit of wariness. She appreciates it nonetheless.

“Hey,” you say. 

Leigh doesn't beat around the bush; she gets straight to the point of why she came over. “Look, I'm sorry,” she says, the words coming out almost demandingly. “About last time. I crossed a line asking about Sara.” 

There's an unmistakable assertiveness to her apology, carrying the same confidence and directness with which she usually addresses any issue. She doesn’t bow her head or wring her hands; instead, she holds your gaze steadily, expecting her apology to be taken as seriously as she means it. 

“It’s okay. I wasn’t exactly in line myself when I brought up Danny,” you say, looking up at her. Then, searching for something else to say, you ask, “So, are you here to meet Danny?”

Leigh seems unfazed by the mention of Danny, yet again. You feel a bit silly soon after, realizing that after just acknowledging the awkwardness of digging into each other’s romantic lives, here you are, doing it again. You just can’t help yourself, can you?

“No. I’m on my own tonight,” she replies. Then she mirrors your earlier question, a slight tilt to her head. “And you? Here with Sara?”

“No, things didn’t push through with Sara. I’m meeting someone new,” you say, the words feeling strange as they come out. It was a simple yes or no question, and you're not quite sure what compelled you to open up about the specifics of your dating life.

Leigh just nods, her face neutral, not giving away anything in reaction to your news. “I should let you get back to your, uh, date,” she says, then quietly returns to her seat.

Having a date with a stranger just a few feet away from the woman you truly care about is about as ironic as the universe can be.

-

You’re on your second americano, the bitter taste barely registering as you glance at your watch for the umpteenth time. It's been thirty minutes past the time your date was supposed to arrive, and there's still no sign of him. 

The restaurant has filled up around you. Families are tucked into booths, laughing and sharing plates piled high with food. Groups of friends clink glasses in cheerful toasts, and couples lean close, whispering and smiling over candlelit tables. Sitting alone at a table set for two, you start to feel conspicuously isolated. 

The last two texts you sent within the hour remain unanswered, their blue bubbles on the screen marking the time you spent waiting. Determined to find some explanation, you open the dating app where you met him, your fingers tapping nervously. There, his profile pops up, showing that he is currently online. Relief washes over you for a moment—maybe there's a reasonable explanation. He might still show up. But as you tap the message icon to send him a query about his whereabouts, a sudden notification stops you: you can no longer message this user.

Feeling disheartened and embarrassed, you can’t help but feel all kinds of ugly for being stood up by someone who doesn’t even mean anything to you. Did he see you waiting and decide not to meet? What about you turned him off? You find yourself scrutinizing everything about your appearance. Was it what you were wearing—perhaps not feminine enough for his taste? Your hair was pulled back, exposing your forehead; maybe he didn't like that look. Or was it your posture—too slouched or too stiff? You even wonder if he might have passed someone else on his way here, someone he found more attractive. It's unsettling to realize how quickly the self-confidence you've spent years building can be shaken in just one evening.

You signal the waiter for the check. Although your stomach is growling, the thought of eating anything seems impossible right now. You're just focused on getting out of there as quickly as you can. Just as you finish paying, Leigh appears at your table. Without a word, she slides into the seat across from you. You're surprised to see her, and although you're not really in the mood for company or conversation, her presence is somehow less intrusive than you would expect.

“I couldn't help but notice your date never arrived,” Leigh comments with an amused smile, inadvertently adding salt to the wound. You think to yourself, Way to rub it in, Leigh, but you're too drained to actually say anything confrontational, so you just mumble a small, “Yeah.”

Leigh leans in a bit closer, lowering her voice as if she's about to let you in on a secret. 

“Want to get out of here?”

-

It’s definitely not a date. Far from it.

It’s just two friends winding up spending Halloween together by chance.

It’s what Leigh keeps telling herself.

Leigh didn’t know what came over her when she went back to your table. She hadn't thought she'd be asking you to ditch the restaurant and wander the city for the rest of the night—together. What she did know was that she had been eating unusually slowly, glancing over at you occasionally to see how your evening was unfolding. But as it became painfully obvious that your date was a no-show, she couldn’t take it; seeing you left to handle the disappointment alone was more than she could bear.

Turning to Leigh in your car, you ask, “Do you mind if we stop first at the 7-Eleven on Main? I haven't had dinner yet.”

“What kind of dinner can you get from a 7-Eleven?” she asks.

You shrug and say, “Donuts.”

At the 7-Eleven, you grab a box of assorted donuts, and on a whim, you also pick up a few cans of beer to go along with them. With snacks in hand, you drive to a spot that overlooks the city—the same one where Leigh took you after getting takeouts the first time around. It’s not secluded—there’s a small crowd, with several cars parked and groups of people lounging on their car hoods.

“I wasn’t always attracted to him,” Leigh murmurs, after finishing her first beer. You both sit side-by-side with the trunk of your car open, swinging your legs while Leigh’s are crossed over the edge of the trunk.

You glance over at her, a curious ‘Hm?’ escaping your lips, though they're still full of donuts. 

Leigh chuckles at your reaction, finding the sight of your cheeks stuffed with food more endearing than she probably should. 

“Danny,” she clarifies with a sigh. “I actually used to hate him. He was always such a burden on Matt. Always dragging him into trouble.”

You think about what she's said, then offer a perspective, “You know, they say hate isn't the opposite of love, it's indifference. So maybe there’s always been something there, something more than just annoyance.”

Leigh leans back, stretching her arms out behind her for support as she considers your point. You find yourself wondering what's going through her mind. Is your honesty drawing her even closer to Danny? You could have exploited her past feelings, suggesting that maybe she's always disliked Danny and is confusing her loneliness for love. But you choose not to manipulate her emotions, even if it might be easy to sway her. You won't take advantage of her vulnerability just to get what you want.

Though you can’t deny that the temptation is there. 

“Leigh, can I ask you a question?” you say, watching her closely. 

She nods, her face open and expectant as she pops open another can of beer.

“How did you find out about me and Matt?”

Leigh takes a sip before answering. “Didn’t I mention it before?”

You purse your lips and shake your head, maintaining a neutral expression as you encourage her to elaborate.

“Danny told me,” Leigh reveals after a brief pause.

“What exactly did he tell you?” 

Leigh hesitates, her eyes flickering to the side before meeting yours again. She sets the can down, her fingers drumming against the aluminum in a slow, rhythmic pattern. 

“He just flat-out told me one night. I didn't believe him at first, so he mentioned your name to prove it, and I pieced together the rest. I tried to learn everything I could about you, where you lived... and that’s how I discovered your clinic in the city. And I... well, you know the rest,” she says. From what Leigh said, you easily conclude that Danny hadn't come clean to her about his role in facilitating your relationship with Matt. He had conveniently removed himself from the narrative, leaving out his involvement entirely. Lost in thought, you don't realize you've grown quiet until Leigh's voice pulls you back.

“Why do you ask?”

If you answer that question, you don’t believe you can continue hiding the truth about Danny any longer. As you watch Leigh, relaxed in the back of your car, her hair tousled by the gentle evening breeze, you're torn. You're afraid of disrupting her peace. The truth, as it often has, seems only to bring her pain. So, you buy yourself some time to think. 

“Do you ever wish he had just kept it to himself? That you never knew any of this?”

Leigh appears briefly disconcerted by the question. She takes some time to think about how to respond, and you give her the time she needs, reaching for another piece of donut from the box. At this rate, you're on track to polish off half a dozen all by yourself.

“Knowing the truth hurt—a lot. It felt like I was suddenly a stranger to my own life,” Leigh says, looking somewhere distant before her eyes return to you. “But then again, knowing has changed how I see things, how I see him—and even how I see you. It’s given me a chance to see things as they really are, not just how I want them to be.”

“You never would’ve met me,” you say with a light-hearted grin, almost suggesting that maybe it was better she hadn’t. But Leigh gives you a look, a gentle sadness in her eyes that makes it clear she doesn’t entertain the thought of not having met you.

“What about you? Do you wish things had stayed hidden?” she asks, turning the question back on you.

A part of you—a very significant part—trembles on the edge of laying bare your feelings for her.

Fiddling with the edge of the donut box, you let a small smile flicker across your lips, but it doesn't reach your eyes. “There's something to be said for not knowing everything. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss,” you say softly. “I mean, not knowing can save you from a lot of unnecessary heartache.”

As you speak, you’re still weighing whether knowing Leigh is turning into an unnecessary heartbreak.

Leigh nods slowly, the corners of her mouth lifting in a bittersweet smile. “Well, when you put it that way, maybe not knowing some things is for the best.”

It feels like a silent agreement on that fine line between knowing everything and being happier not knowing. Perhaps what you can do for now is spare Leigh from her own unnecessary heartbreak. If what she has with Danny is working, why ruin it?

“You know what's missing here? Music,” Leigh muses, reaching for her third beer. “Oh, and you better keep up,” she adds, glancing at the single beer you’ve had.

“Or how about you pace yourself? I'd hate for the party to end too soon for you,” you quip slyly. 

Leigh grins, unfazed by your warning. She leans closer, and her breath, warmed by the beers, brushes against your cheek. “Speaking of parties, I actually got invited to this Halloween bash tonight. Everyone's supposed to be in costume, and there will definitely be music. We should go. What do you say?”

You pretend to think about it, but you’re already clearing out your trunk and hopping off it as you reply, “Well, you did say you needed music.”

-

A party isn’t really your scene.

Leigh is already tipsy by the time you both arrive at it. People are either clad in bulky costumes or barely dressed at all. Halloween decorations dangle from the ceiling, a foot or two above the faces of the revelers as strobe lights flash in erratic bursts. You weave through a crowd of zombies and sexy nurses, the bass from the DJ's speakers vibrating under your feet.

As you're both making your way toward the bar, a co-worker spots Leigh and pulls her aside excitedly. “Leigh, over here!” they shout over the noise, grabbing her arm. She turns back to you with a slightly apologetic grin. “Just a sec, I'll catch up!” she promises, before being swallowed by the crowd, her hand slipping from your arm.

But that was half an hour ago.

Now, you're feeling dizzy from the alcohol that's been keeping you company in Leigh's absence, and the sea of masked and painted faces around you is starting to merge into a blur. You round a corridor that brings you back to the main room and finally, you spot her. Leigh is near the dance floor, laughing with a group dressed in characters you don’t recognize. She sees you and waves excitedly, her movements a bit too exaggerated. You make your way over, dodging a particularly enthusiastic witch.

“Found you,” you say, as you reach her side.

Leigh grins, her eyes bright. “Dance with me!” she yells over the music, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the throng of sweaty bodies. Too exhausted to argue, you let her lead you into the chaos. As the music takes over and you both start to dance, the rest of the party fades into the background. Leigh's hand is warm in yours, her other hand reaching up to loop around your neck. The music swells, and the crowd presses in, pushing you closer together. Her breath is sweet with the tang of alcohol, and her cheeks are flushed.

Leigh’s movements become less and less coordinated as she leans into you, her body heavenly against yours. Her lips come dangerously close to yours, barely brushing against them, and for a moment—surrounded by her warmth and scent—you're tempted. You want her, deeply, irrevocably—

But not like this.

You firm your hands on her hips, pushing her slightly away. “Hey, let's get some air, yeah?” you suggest calmly despite your heart going crazy in your chest.

She looks up at you, a bit confused but nods, her smile unfaltering. You take her hand again and guide her off the dance floor. Moving through the crowd proves to be a challenge with Leigh's unsteady steps. She stumbles, laughing as she clings to your arm for support.

“I almost ate it back there!” she exclaims, still giggling.

“Yeah, you did,” you mutter distractedly. As the festive sounds of the party fade behind the closed door, reality slaps you both with a sobering chill. Leigh is simply too drunk, and you’re almost a fool for nearly taking advantage of that. You can't concentrate on anything but what nearly happened back there.

You feel Leigh’s hand slip back into yours, slotting in place like magnets that just fit together. Her laughter has quieted, and she leans into you slightly, resting her head on your shoulder. It's then you realize that a drunken Leigh is more affectionate and less aware of physical boundaries—dangerous.

“You know, maybe we should call it a night? I can take you home,” you suggest, making an effort not to lean into her, even though the intoxicating mix of her shampoo and the faint scent of sweat beckons you closer.

Her reaction is immediate and surprisingly lucid. “I can’t go home like this,” Leigh protests, straightening up. “Jules has her own Halloween thing tonight, and I can't show up drunk and be seen like this by her. She’s been sober for a year now; I can’t just...” Her voice trails off, filled with worry. 

You glance at your wrist and see it's already 2 AM. A sigh escapes you as the reality of your early morning responsibilities begins to weigh in. You have to be up in four hours to open the clinic at 8 AM, and staying out to make sure Leigh fully sobers up is far from feasible. Leigh appears exhausted, her eyes heavy, even as she tries to muster a smile.

“Listen, Leigh,” you say, eyeing a practical solution. “I have an early start tomorrow, and you look like you need some rest. How about you crash at my place tonight? You can sleep it off and head home in the morning when you’re feeling better.”

Leigh seems to consider this for a moment, her gaze drifting towards the street where groups of men glance their way as they pass by. Finally, she nods meekly, looking relieved.

“That sounds really good right now. My head feels heavy, and I just want to go to sleep,” she mumbles, letting out a weary sigh and rubbing her eyes. You help her to her feet and steady her as you both walk back to your car, which is fortunately parked nearby. Leigh curls up in the passenger seat, and you crack the windows to let in some fresh air.

Once home, you give Leigh some clothes to change into and then start setting up the couch for yourself, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket from the cupboard. As you turn back a while later, you see Leigh, in her slightly tipsy state, misinterpreting your preparations. She gives a small, tired smile and plops down onto the couch. Reacting quickly, you catch her just before she falls completely into it.

“W-What are you doing?” she whispers, surprised as she finds herself practically in your arms, half-carried in a bridal style.

You feel the heat rise from your cheeks to your chest, aware of how close she is. “This is for me,” you say, nodding towards the couch, “you’re taking the bed.”

To avoid any further confusion, you slowly lift her up, wrapping an arm securely around her waist as you guide her to your bedroom. Leigh’s head remains tucked in your neck, her body relaxed and yielding as you move.

“You really don’t have to do this,” she mumbles against your skin, though her tone suggests she’s grateful for your care. You don’t see the blush that has crept to her own cheeks, your eyes fixed straight ahead.

“It’s no trouble at all,” you assure her as you gently set her down on your bed. “Make yourself comfortable. The mattress’ much better for a good night's sleep.”

Leigh nods, pulling the covers around her. “Thank you,” she says, her voice soft and more sober now.

“Anytime,” you respond with a reassuring smile. “Good night, Leigh.” You close the bedroom door softly behind you and retreat to the couch. 

“Good night, Y/N…” Leigh whispers to herself, a faint smile touching her lips as she nestles deeper into the bed. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, medical procedures including dialysis and chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Pete Brenner, short!reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Another appointment. The routine is both reassuring and defeating. That you have to devote so much time to sitting in one place having your blood cleansed just to function feels inhumane, almost oppressive. Yet those three or four hours also feel like an escape, an excuse to just be there and focus on a book or some work or even just close your eyes.

That day, you have an important report to get through. You find yourself fidgeting and tugging against the IV. You really can’t be late with this. You’re in budget season and your supervisor is on a Teams rampage. If she could stop messaging for two seconds, you might actually get something done.

The time passes in a dash. Louise brings you back to the present as she removes the tube from your arm and confirms your next appointment for Sunday. Not exactly how you like to spend your weekend but you don’t have anything else going on. Sometimes it feels like your condition is your entire existence.

You pack up, yawning. You’re impossibly tired. You didn’t sleep much and your blood pressure tends to dip at the end. You lift your bag and sling it over your shoulder, stifling another yawn as you say goodbye to the receptions and head out into the hall.

The building is mostly quiet. The businesses all operate on an appointment basis and walk-ins are uncommon. The jeweller near the back of the place never seems to be open but that day, the door is open and you hear voices coming from within. You keep your steps light as you pass, trying not to disturb the conversation.

“That’s a real Rolex, bud,” a man snorts, “your loss.”

You hit the wall with your shoulder as you dodge the body that emerges from the jeweller, the door snapping at his back. You cling to your bag and back up, blinking at the man who crowds you. Your chest sinks, no, not him.

It had been two weeks since your run-in with the stranger and maybe foolishly, you thought you’d dodged him for good. You press yourself against the plastic and sputter dumbly. You look down the hall towards the stairs.

“Sorry, excuse me,” you utter and go to slip by. 

You’re stopped as his arm stretches across the narrow hall and blocks you, his other hand on his hip, “hey, you again,” he intones, adding your name on the end.

You back up and cross your arms. There’s no alternative route out of here, he’s got you trapped.

“Pete,” he pats his chest, “you remember, don’t you, dolly?”

You flutter your lashes and look at your fitbit, trying to imply your rush.

“Er, no,” you lie, “sorry, I have somewhere to be–”

“No, no, I know you remember me,” he insists, keeping his arm in place, “you helped me find that wellness hoo haa whatever. Real con artists, those ones.”

“Sorry, I don’t–”

“I get it, you’re shy,” he chuckles, “you don’t gotta be. I’m a nice guy.” He looms over you, “how about I walk you to your train?”

You look up at him and he winks, the stubble of an ungrown goatee trims his jaw and mouth, “no thanks.”

You try to step to the other side and he quickly pens you in again. “Hey, hey, come on, I owe you. You were so helpful last time, how about a drink?”

“Uh, I don’t drink,” you touch the outside of your jacket pocket, feeling the shape of your phone, “really, it’s fine. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“So you do remember,” he smirks.

“N– look, I…” your head is swirling, you just want to get to the station and get on the train. Once you sit down, you’ll mellow out, “it’s a nice gesture but I’m not… I’m not interested.”

“Hmm,” he still doesn’t budge and his eyes flick up, scanning the wall behind you. “Oh, man, you’re here for that?”

“What, I–”

“Dialysis. Tough shit,” he sighs, “never would’ve guessed. Must be hard.”

“I don’t– I need to catch my train-”

“I got a car,” he offers, “so if you want a ride–”

You swallow as your neck itches with heat. You want him to get out of your way. You don’t like the way he’s got you trapped or how he seems to assume to know you.

“No, thank you,” you enunciate clearly, “please, I need to go.”

“Alright,” he puts his hands up, “like I said, I’ll walk you. Make sure you get there safe–”

“I don’t need you to do that,” you ring the strap of your bag and his gaze focuses on the gesture until you stop yourself.

“I make you nervous, sweetie?”

You don’t know what to say. You feel like you’re going to boil over. He’s frustrating and constantly changing the subject, never quite responding to what you’re actually saying. You swallow your breath and hold it in. You’re going.

You put your elbow out and jab it into his stomach as you force your way past him. You quickly scurry by as he grunts in surprise and you hurry towards the stairs, pushing through the door as he calls after you. You ignore him as the metal door clangs shut in your stead.

You catch yourself against the top of the railing and hear a cackle from the other side of the wall. He’s laughing. At you. Well, you don’t think he’s very funny. In fact, he’s a bit scary.

[bloxy-cola-drinker]

LONG ASS POST ABT A GOOFY AHH AU IVE BEEN COOKING

APPRENTICESHIP AU??🤑🤑🔥😝🙈

OUTLINE:

a post weirdmageddon AU. essentially Mabel and Dipper stay at the Mystery Shack after Ford offers Dipper the apprenticeship. Mabel and Dipper attend Gravity Falls High. Mabel, Candy, and Grenda remain an iconic trio, accompanied by Pacifica. Dipper and Ford occasionally go off on adventures (in an almost Rick and Morty kind of fashion minus the dynamic) all while Dipper stays at the top of his classes, and still has time to hang with Mabel and her friends (and of course some dipcifica bc i have dipcifica brain worms). of course, it wouldn’t be Gravity Falls if there wasn’t a mystery element. Ford and Dipper have began to receive odd signals in the bunker, they believe it’s Bill trying to communicate with them from the theryaprysm (idk how to spell it).

CHARACTER ROLLS:

Stan: retired from being Mr. Mystery, but still majorly involved in the Shack. embarks in his regular goofy old man activities, also closer to the twins and his brother than ever. allows all of the twins friends so crash at the Shack whenever. an oddly “maternal” “father figure” after the twins’ parents separation.

Ford: much like Bill, is receiving therapy, but only twice a week. he’s finally almost fully recovered from the PTSD Bill caused. he’s in a good place, he’s finally happy! he’s close with his family and trying to put himself out there by joining PTA at Gravity Falls High, because he definitely needs more friends (socializing is important chat). he takes Dipper with him on expeditions, aswell as appointing him as his lab assistant.

Dipper: he’s top of his class, and on the debate team at Gravity Falls High, although he misses lots of school while accompanying Ford and helping out with the sciencey things. adopted into Mabel’s friend group, with Candy, Grenda, and Pacifica.

Mabel: whimsical teenage girl. president of the Gravity Falls High art club, pretty much impossible to hate. working at the counter with Wendy, they spend most of the day gossiping and looking through magazines together. deff a thrifter, thrifts specifically colorful clothes with funky patterns and whimsical jewelry.

Wendy: spends most of her time at the Shack after she got in a fight about going to college instead of becoming a lumberjack. saving up money to go to a community college, that Ford helped choose a few counties over. sleeps on Stan’s old chair most nights. binges movies with Soos (and deff get stoned together 🤫)

Soos: the new Mr. Mystery and soon to marry Melody (who is pregnant with twins)! he turned his break room into a room for him and Melody, and currently building a nursery with Stan. despite all of this, he’s still just as close with Dipper and Mabel.

Candy and Grenda: still Mabel’s #1 girls, deff more involved and both have more complex personalities. Candy and Dipper are academic rivals, but they’re still good friends. Grenda is captain of the Gravity Falls High softball team, and is still with that prince guy.

Pacifica: attends a private school in the next city over and now lives in the second biggest mansion in Gravity Falls after McGucket bought the mannor. finally becoming a more grounded version of her formal self. she still works at the diner and her mom is actively trying to force her into modeling, but she’s more into influencing.

[really-burnt-toast]

Personal post! I kinda wanna ramble and rant about the medical negligence I've been subjected to (also partially my fault tbf) - it also was sorta the reason I struggled so much this month

(Rambling under cut)

So turns out my doctor's office gave me the wrong medicine for 1-2 months (or more) and I found out just this week bc at the start of this month I got the ACTUAL meds I needed and then wasn't able to sleep at all for two weeks bc withdrawal from the old medicine.

Timeline is basically;

- Takes new meds for over a year now (for mental health) they are prescribed by my Psychiatrist but I can get the Prescription by my doctors office

- Those meds only exist in 50mg and then 150mg, not 100.

- I need to take 100mg so I said 100mg when asking for them to give me a prescription

- Instead of telling me it only exists in 50mg and then 150mg, they assume I mean the medication under a SIMILAR name that exists as 100mg. That is NOT my medication.

- They give me the wrong prescription and I dont notice it bc they have the same name, just with a second word added

- Proceeds to take those for a few months until I run out, dont notice anything different other than becoming really sleepy after taking them (they are for sleep problems, they work way more extreme than my regular ones) which was actually a plus

- Two weeks ago I went back for a prescription and they gave me the ACTUAL one i needed, I am mad I got the 50mg because I DONT KNOW THEY DONT EXIST IN 100

- Cant sleep barely at all for two weeks bc my regular ones dont work all at once like the others but instead spread out. For two weeks bc of that Im suffering withdrawals (and miss important appointments bc I pass out after being up all night)

- Call and explain im taking 50 double and cant sleep. The woman on the phone passive aggressively says I should "tell them when ordering that is an OLD prescription and not the NEW one"???

- Sus

- Go to get my prescription and I noticed the word is missing (finally) I asked the pharmacist if its the correct one and they said no

- Go back and point out wrong prescription

- They finally tell me the prescription I NEED doesn't exist in 100mg. I didn't know. I tell them I've been taking 100 mg ones just a few weeks ago.

- Go back home to get the package and realize Ive been taking the wrong prescription medicine for MONTHS.

- Go to the doctor and explain everything.

Sooo on Monday I caused the entire doctor's office to scramble bc we were all horrified ive been taking the wrong prescription medication. Now I take BOTH to hopefully get myself to actually sleep again. It's sorta working.

The reason it happened was I used to take the other meds years ago and they are both the same main ingredient but different doses and uses. That's why that woman said I'm ordering the old medication. I wasn't. I was trying to order the new one.

Gotta explain all that to my Psychiatrist once he's back from vacation bc he needs to know I've not been taking his prescription on accident LOL

This is all happening in Germany for context. Felt like that needed to be said lol

[little-pissbaby]

as always, we're complaining under the cut. tw for medical PTSD, mentions of medical procedures, personal/graphic descriptions of my fucked up little body, extremely privileged whining, it's worth it for the cat at the bottom tho

I am exhausted by the number of appointments I have. I've become the kind of person who has multiple appointments every single week. This week and next week are three appointment weeks, and those appointments always lead to scheduling MORE test/procedures/office visits.

I had an appointment with my urogynecologist. Given my history of neurogenic bladder and severe stage IV endometriosis, she's in agreement with me that it might be time to at least consider a bowel diversion, if not a total colonoscopy. This would be done in addition to a bladder diversion because self-catheterization has proven unsustainable and, frankly, dangerous for me to try to continue. I'll likely have a foley placed tomorrow morning that will stay in until I can get in to the urological surgeon, who has not called to schedule yet. I have the colorectal surgery consult next month and the neurourology consult a month after that. Just thinking about it gives me a headache.

I also have an EEG in a few days to see if the blackout episodes I've been having are epilepsy, and if it is, I'm not sure what we'll do since I'm already on a good amount of anticonvulsants. I have a feeling I'm going to leave that test with a migraine and no answers, which was exactly how the EMG/NCS I had done in my hand last Friday went.

Other things I've started include using a CPAP machine. I thought this shit was supposed to help you sleep better, but instead I'm waking up many many times in a two hour window, the pressure being pushed into my lungs is dislocating my ribs, I'm getting bloated from wearing it, and the pressure is coming out of my eyes and ears too due to a deformity in my inner ears called patulous eustachian tubes, so now my constant migraine is back in full force. I'm nothing but bloated and irritable as hell, but if I don't use it for at least four hours a day for at least 24 days a month, medicaid won't pay for it and I will have to pay out of pocket to buy the machine. My mother price checked it, it costs ~$1300 to buy the machine I have. I might just give up and give it to my brother, who also needs a CPAP but who doesn't also have EDS and is, therefore, not prone to ribs dislocating.

I met with my 4th electrophysiologist and that was a frustratingly and dangerously nonproductive appointment. He did not speak or understand spoken English well enough to be allowed to practice medicine in an English-speaking country imo. I don't give a shit about an accent, I don't think people need to "go back to where they came from" or that they need to speak English exclusively, but man it is so important in the field of medicine to be able to actually understand what your patient is saying to you. He had no idea what the condition I have even was, and he assumed I made all of these diagnoses for attention but would "humor me" and wrote IN HIS NOTES that I "insisted" on a holter monitor and tilt table test. I got these orders from Duke university, the closest university to me that has a genetic electrophysiology department and a dysautonomia clinic, both of which I was being seen at until Duke stopped taking my insurance. I was trying to tell this absolute worm brain that I was telling him what the top specialists GLOBALLY told me to have done, but I was just being young and attention-seeking I guess, I'm so dangerously angry about it, it makes my chest hurt to try and articulate just how badly this EP fucked it up for me.

I realized in the middle of a visit with my PCP on the 30th that I am not working towards a goal. Most people go to the doctor with the goal of Get Better Enough To Work, or Get Better Enough To Take Care Of The Kids. I don't have that. I'll never be able to hold down a job and I can't and don't want to have children.

I feel like the shittiest friend on Earth too because a good friend of mine only lives four hours away, but as much as we'd both like to visit, I have to schedule everything in my life around what's starting to look like a year packed with surgeries. I can't just pack up and go visit him, I come with medical equipment now. Between meds, splints, incontinence supplies, and the CPAP, I have to basically haul around a small urgent care center everywhere I go. I hate that I have to be planned around.

For a few wins, I do not have carpal tunnel, and when I had my A1C checked at my last PCP appointment, it was 4.9! Every doctor who finds that out informs me even their own A1C isn't that good because they like some specific sweet treat too much. My secret? No one has said they liked something that doesn't have dairy in it, and I've had a dairy allergy since birth.

anyway. I turned 26 just over a month ago and my beloved medical advisor turned 1 year old the same day. she's my birthday buddy :) it's weird having an Adult Cat in the house now, she's not the teeny tiny kitten that sneezed in my eye and gave me pinkeye anymore.

thanks 4 reading, besties. until my next frustratingly whiny and Packed Full of Info update <3

pictured: my big adult girl and medical supervisor 🥰

[darkwingdukat]

On non-traditional communication OR how i learnt to listen to more than what is being said

I work with autistic children in an ABA setting. Forget what you think you know or have learnt about traditional ABA because this is not that. We use ABA to help the children become school ready, usually focusing on communication skills (verbal, tech assisted, or otherwise) and other important social skills. Some kids are very verbal but not very communicative, while others are nonverbal but able to convey a wide variety of concepts.

One little boy is relatively new. He does amazing at social skills although his verbal skills are below most of his neurotypical peers his age. But he loves social interactions and is an absolute snugglebug. When I'm being goofy with my doggos at home, I'll tickle them with a sound like "dugga-dugga-dugga" and this translated over to this kiddo very naturally.

I honestly didn't realize he'd picked up on the dugga dugga noise until I was hanging out with him one afternoon, not doing anything important because he was about to be picked up for a doc appointment and just needed someone to chill with him until his parents arrived. So we were digging around in a box of fidget toys and he was chattering happily at me, and suddenly he goes "dugga-dugga-dugga." I was so astounded and delighted that I immediately did it back, and we spent about 10 minutes dugga-duggaing at each other until he got picked up.

Fast forward a few more weeks. I was with one kiddo and this boy was with a different therapist but we were all enjoying some down time in the same space. I asked the other therapist if i could say hi to the kiddo and she affirmed yes they were on a break and he was open to greetings. So i said hi to him and he got all smiley and happy and started to say something to us. His vocab is mostly monosyllabic and sometimes words he says sound very similar. Whatever he wanted to communicate was not very clear. It was something like "more" or "go" or ??? We asked him for clarification, but he didn't react to any of our questions of "do you want to go? Do you want more? Do you...?"

He didn't get frustrated when it was clear we didn't understand. He thought for a moment, then said in a clear, low voice, "Dugga. Dugga. Dugga."

"Oh! He wants me to tickle him!" I realized, and sure enough that was exactly what he wanted. He squealed with delight when I descended on his bitty ribs with my tickle fingers, repeating "dugga-dugga-dugga!" until I had to go back to my learner and get back to work.

There is a saying in autism work that all behaviors are communication. Not all communication is functional to the society humans have built, but nor should we expect all communication to fit into neurotypical confines. That little boy figured out, all on his owm, how to tell me exactly what he wanted. It was a moment of pure understanding between us that makes me tear up as i write this. I don't think I've ever had a job quite as powerful as this one, and i hope i can stay in this field for as long as i can be useful to it. ive got dozens of stories about other learners and their successes, not the least of which is a nonverbal boy who i helped learn to communicate he wants to have the agency to be able to wait or not wait for a turn with one of his highly-preferred toys. These kids are going to grow into amazing human beings. And yeah communication is harder for them. But when someone is willing to listen, then the effort it takes to learn how to communicate is SO worth it.

[clippedwingsmuses]

ooc: good morning, no icon bc i am. guh. i am so tired rn, but i had to give yall a psa update about stuff going on with me (since i just got back from my doc appointment)

basic tldr; my activity is most likely going to be even more sparse than it is for a while because i'm focused on my mental and physical health (working on regulating my bipolar disorder primarily), as well as some legal issues that i need to address; what activity i do have may be restricted to my current threads and i might not be making ooc update posts very frequently

full information (and miscellaneous ramble-venting) is under the cut

active muse check: surge, laurance, wanderer, kieran

(cw: mental health, general medical and legal talks, venting)

ooc: so breaking news, apparently it turns out my bipolar disorder might be the more major diagnosis between everything that i got checked out a couple weeks ago, i got prescribed some mood stabilizers so i should be getting them in tomorrow

im having to re-set up my insurance bc they fucked me over and cancelled it (we didn't get any of the documents that they were supposed to be giving us, and my acc on their website can prove we didn't receive them) so that's stressing me out

i also had to get bloodwork done today for whatever reason, going there and doing the bloodwork is what gave us the heads up that my insurance was cancelled so i guess i'm glad for it, but also we can't really afford to pay for the bloodwork rn (and barely if at all); i'm glad that i got it done so i can see if i have any physical issues to worry about, but at the same time that payment is gonna fuck us over for a little, cause we barely get by as it is

im also cramping which sucks!!!!! but that's small beans compared to everything else

i mean today already started off pretty shit for me, i only got about 4 hours of sleep cause my anxiety kept me up most of the night (who was surprised that would happen? not me) since i was stressing about the appointment (they're also still ignoring the potential that i could be neurodivergent, and i know damn well that i am, they just keep blaming my issues on everything else that's wrong with me, so that's stressing me out to a pretty strong degree too)

so yeah, considering all my mental health issues and the doctors visits ive basically been having nonstop for the last couple of weeks, my activity on this account is probably going to be even less than it already is; i've just got too much going on to put all my energy into fixating on writing, and even writing my novel is a chore that i've really had to trudge through the mud to finish (i'm still not even done with it)

i will still be around to write on here ofc, but i might restrict myself into not actively searching for any new rp partners for a while; i'm going to try spending my time relaxing and getting my shit sorted before i fully commit to being here as much as i have been. again, activity will still be here all things considered, but i might not be making very many ooc posts like i have been, and as far as dash shenanigans go i might be pretty quiet

my discord is open to mutuals if anyone wants to chat or discuss plots, and my ims on here will always be open as well

sorry for rambling and bitching so much on here i just like to keep yall informed, but yeah the tldr at the top basically explains all the important details outside of my rambling

[thisisyesterdaystudy]

Tuesday (im so tired)

i didn't sleep well i think i'm actually a little obsessed atm ive just been not sleeping or waiting well but its kind of chill and i slept in and missed an appointment that wasnt important so thats pretty relaxed of me i feel and i has a great time bouldering im just a little all over the place now cos ive stayed up too late - insane amount of studying this day but i just want to say its mainly because of swedish which i'm only sort of counting and i got super into a biology essay tonight and spent way longer than i should have cos i was having such a good time anyway gotta make this quick cos im going to bed

been listening to classical music for the first time ever and it kind of goes hard esp. vivaldi four seasons winter

studied cell structure some more, got the whole weeks work done today somehow so i'll have to think of some revision to do for bio

had a boring but moderately fun time with sociology, im studying research methods at the moment im not yet a fan

had a good time with art history which im proud of cos i had the feeling like i was dreading it and then i remembered i like a challenge and then i had a good time

finished unit5 of swedish aaa

loving the byzantine icons course - bit about iconoclasm enjoyed a lot

wrote an epic essay on the history of cell biology + cell structure loved it but im knackered

havent read + hardly knitted + sketchbooked ive just been really busy, im going to read a bit of women in the picture now though

posted last nights study with me in which my cat disrupts by sitting on both my notebooks

frazzled + in my head got to go to bed im sure im forgetting something

actual subject study: 6h 30 (5 of those hours is bio :0) extracurricular sort of stuff: 3h 10 (2h 20 of that is swedish total: 9h 40

[chronically-j]

having an understanding family makes me emotional.

my dad and i were talking about EDS and my pain and stuff, and we got to talking about the different types and i said im 99% sure i dont have vEDS (i dont have key symptoms) but that im hoping for genetic testing when i see the specialist, and he was was so validating the whole time. he understood my anxieties and why this appointment is so important to me (he was previously saying he may not be able to take me because work is really busy the next few weeks) but he really understood why it was so important. especially when i explained that some people have to drive out of state to see specialists because they dont have one close enough, so 1 1/2hrs isnt too bad all thing considered. and the waitlist is months at least, ive been waiting 3-4 for this one and whos to say the waitlist isnt longer, i havent checked. so hes gonna take me, and take his laptop so he can work while he waits for me. its only the first appointment so hopefully it doesnt take too long? and maybe he can do telehealth next time but i doubt it lol

[chargetheintruder]

Fair warning: I'm ill, tired and things look bleak.

Okay, so here's the short version of it: I'm sick, been sick for months and nobody at the local Emergency Ward wants to look where the pain actually is (colon, bladder and kidneys), they just want to rant at me when I have a panic over this mess (and never knowing what's really wrong with me) as the pain spreads and gets nasty, repeatedly.

Yeah, it gets more detailed below the break, but in general the idea is that the bastards are like "Life-Threatening shit ONLY damn it, go home and suffer there!" so I really can't use 9-1-1 on my own until I am literally near death.

No really, the closest rational explanation I've gotten from them is that I've had near-perpetual Urinary retention and urinary tract infections since I first got the first catheter in February this year, and that this comes with me passing more kidney stones now since I don't retain anything anymore. That's it . . . but their recent blood work can't find any of their typical infections. I do have a month's worth of antibiotics anyway and I've been working through them, but not much has budged.

For the past 2, going on 3 weeks, it's been intense bladder pain in the mornings (from the thing being over-active whenever I sleep, and only when I sleep), followed by constant pain in my colon and left kidney area all day into the night. Half the time I can't walk on my own until I get some pain relief in me--I use a cheap walker to get around my own apartment. I really don't have any strength or endurance left in me. Nausea and weakness are regular issues.

Using the telephone to try to get help is a problem because when I call people they're constantly demanding I SPEAK UP AND YELL AT THEM which is draining. And screw my own privacy in my apartment I guess. I don't know why my phone line is like this, particularly when I am attempting an important phone call involving sensitive info I DON'T want my evil neighbors or the evil landlords (the local Public Housing Authority) to know.

But yeah, the pain keeps getting worse, and I'm trapped in this building. I don't have a car, can't drive one anyway (no license), don't sprout the wings needed to fly across town to make it to doctor's appointments, and in general I am trapped in this building thanks to what should have been temporary nerve pain and weakness in my left leg from February. The pain in my left leg and torso gets worse, I'm more and more drained each morning . . . and I don't know how much longer I have left of life, before the infection takes me, or before I lose it from the bullshit I have to deal with from this building.

What little I do know is this: if a urinary tract infection goes on too damned long it becomes kidney disease. I could die of kidney failure and the local ER would swear up and down and sideways that "we didn't see it coming" (they didn't look for it?) and that I "never have anything life-threatening going on". Then again I could get shot by someone else's gun too, and those people would tell me "well, it's only a .22 caliber, it's small, it didn't blow your brains out, and well, it's not life-threatening, so well, we're injecting you with IV antibiotics and Voltaren, putting a bandage on it and well, sending you home in an hour, good luck!" (/Reagan, irony much) And seriously, they would.

And yes, I have tried to talk with a social worker about my issues with this building. She lasted all of 2 weeks (and one of them was the week of my birthday, and didn't count). She went on healthcare leave and won't be back until December of this year. Forcing me to start over a second time with a third new person. (the first one was a Quality Surveyor, a.k.a. an admin person who wanted to know what the hell was going on . . . at least until I told her, of course) And then there's the healthcare "provider" working alongside Medicaid in my state . . . and making damned sure I can't ever get a ride to any of my appointments. No really, do I call it in 2 days in advance, or is it 3, or is it a whole WEEK because you're that incompetent and can't even handle pronouncing "Carle" (hint: the E is SILENT, a common feature in Standard American English, whatever that is) never mind working with it in terms of scheduling rides to the place. Damned thing is a fraud, I swear. I can't be the only one who can NEVER get their transportation assistance system to work, ever.

Point is: I am severely tired. I can't even use the toilet in my own apartment because if I actually DO poop? The vile, smoking neighbor next door will go off any time, day or night, light up a cigar and smoke up all of his apartment and half of mine too. And the same guy? Dragged in a leather sofa from off the street at the beginning of this summer, and yeah, he infested all of his apartment and half of mine too with bedbugs. I told the damned landlord about this BACK IN JUNE and nobody did a damned thing. Pest Control could have been here three times already to take care of this?

They had to wait until tomorrow. Of course. They'll be here at the crack of dawn tomorrow pounding on doors and demanding access, of course. I have to deal with my bed being torn up and everything sprayed and my not having use of my apartment for half a day over this . . . probably repeatedly for the next four to five weeks, every Friday now? Yeah.

And this is with all of the health issues. My life is ruined and falling apart already. But nah, I have to fuck around with this too while I might fall over and die any time. Lovely, right? (/s) (sarcasm, not sepsis)

I am tired, I am physically ill and about to lose my mind. I'm alone in this world, surrounded by enemies (I've slowly lost my friends, half due to this building, half from the pandemic years). This is where I would tell you that I'm sorry I failed you, but in truth.

My body's failing me, and I've failed myself I guess. From not seeing into the future and somehow knowing that these neighbors would be the worst and that this building would be the worst.

[ooglywooglies]

back from first appointment today, i uh think i might be getting hormones on the 2nd of July, a little bummed its not IN june bc i think that would be funny, but i mean im kind of shocked at how fast its all happening, i went to like a specific clinic and they were like yeah we got a guy set up we can get this all started in like 2 weeks and i didnt even have any questions

also found this faygo at the convenience store, ive seen faygo before but ive never tried it and i like cotton candy stuff. its uh, i think its not very good but i kind of like it? idk its weird. its not carbonated like at all, i think it would be better if it was carbonated. it kind of tastes like water that had candy soaking in it. or like how that cotton candy body spray smells if it tasted like it smells. im keeping the bottle though its kinda cute

not once did doctor comment on my weight which is probably a first i was like my cholesterol is probably bad bc i only just started exercising again and he was like well exercising is important for any gender

so weird going to a doctor and immediately being on the same page as them, whenever ive gone to a doctor before about other problems usually theres always been a case of either theyre undermining me or IM undermining THEM bc im expecting them to undermine me and it was so nice to go and and both of us go like i trust you to be intelligent. esp bc part of my trans story is "i learned about being trans on the medical channel when i was 7 bc i watched the medical channel a lot as a child" so he was like yknow i guess it makes a lot of sense that youd be well informed then

also, i am american so it gets brought up EVERY TIME and i think its funny but its also kind of embarrassing when someone mentions my accent because i feel a little bit like a cartoon character, part of my brain is like yes im american, yes hamburger bald eagle freedom. i am sorry.

i think were gonna go for butt injection, he was like trying to scare me a bit with how painful it apparently is and i was like i just had the worst experience with needles in my mouth when i got my wisdom teeth pulled recently i can probably handle it, and he was like no i heard its worse and i was in my head like, maybe you dont understand how horrible that mouth needle was it was really bad

either way im not really afraid of the butt needle im not someone who is afraid of needles like literally at all

bit jealous of women getting to have a pill, i know some still get injections but having the option of a pill must be nice on some level

anyway yeah my next appointment is July 2nd and i have to manage to get in with the specialist (which i think is just gonna be similar to what we did today but like itll end with a big APPROVED stamp) and do blood work before that appointment

and were gonna work on top surgery, hes got a surgeon lined up i think we need a psych thing for that for like insurance reasons or something and then we need money (15,000 dollars!!!!!!!!!)

asked if i want bottom and i was like no bc its too expensive and he was like ok thats probably good no one around here is any good at it

[shakukonto]

ive got all my important appointments coming in the same week lets hope it doesnt make me suicidal 😝

[phawareglobal]

Kristine Ritchie - phaware® interview 422

Canadian Pediatric PH Care Partner, Kristine Ritchie, discusses her son Brendan's 10 plus year journey with pulmonary hypertension, the importance of self-care and the impact PH has on her entire family.

My name is Kristine Ritchie. I live out in West Kelowna, British Columbia, Canada. I have a son who is 10 1/2 years into his diagnosis of pulmonary hypertension. He was diagnosed on 12/12/12. While we were out walking, he collapsed. We were really lucky, we got a diagnosis within two weeks of his syncope episode, and that's what kind of started our PH journey. There's pivotal moments within the PH journey where you change as a person, as a parent. It just kind of forces you into a different head space. We were blissfully ignorant of IV medications. We knew that they were there for the first five years of Brendan's journey. We hung onto the pills and then we moved into an IV and it's a whole different lifestyle. I took to Facebook and found some great supports there, which turned into physical meetings, which was really great. I was able to get in touch with some families in Edmonton. As time goes on, I hope that I'm the support and I'm the inspiration for caregivers, parents, but even patients themselves. I look at what Brendan does and he inspires me with everything that he's gone through, whether it be surgeries, or infections, or IVs. I take my inspiration from my kid, my 15-year-old-kid. We have a daughter as well. She was two years old when Brendan was diagnosed. We never told Brendan that he was sick. We didn't concentrate on that. As parents, we carry that load. He is who he is. He's got pulmonary hypertension but that doesn't define him. We find ways to do everything. Whether he's water-skiing with a pump attached to his arms so that he can be out there or tubing, or going golfing in the heat and getting a first job as an umpire. His sister doesn't think that he's any different than any other kid doing that out there. People who hear Brendan's story and actually learn what pulmonary hypertension is, they realize that that Brendan has a hard go and so they do things for him like give him the hockey stick at the hockey game or buy him the jersey. Just little special things. To his sister, that looks like something really cool. So she said when she was younger, she wanted to have pulmonary hypertension because she wanted the special things. But now that Brendan's evolved into the IVs, and the site changes, and the long hospital stays, and the surgeries, she gets a little bit better of a picture of the awful things that happen with it. But we still keep it normal. Her normal is definitely different than any other child that she would know, but she doesn't know any difference. So she wants the special things and we try and do as much as we can for her. But realizing that Brendan has other needs and a bigger head space, it's hard to include or hard to describe what we do as a parent to try and equalize our time and equalize our head space because pulmonary hypertension is such the forefront of your life because it has to be. You need the time for the appointments. You need the time for the hospital. You do that for the one child. Then you have the other child over here who has to stay at home and you try so hard to make sure you're cognizant of what the child without the disease has and the child with the disease has. It is a constant struggle and being mindful to what you're doing with each child and trying not to be an unequal parent to both of them. But realizing that, wow, you've got a lot going on. In 2018 is when we started kind of the IV journey. One day, you're able to just go up and hug your kid and go run into the lake or throw them in the shower if they get dirty. Then, within a day, you have to be mindful of an IV line that you don't want to bump and have it fall out or it gets caught on a door because he's walking around the house with shorts on and he's got to know that there's something hanging off his side. Having to be mindful of where you put your hands on their backs so that you can hug them like you really want to. That I found was really hard for me. Sometimes, I had to wait until he had his IV came out so I could hug him how I wanted to. That was a huge milestone in my parent mind, going from no pump, and no line, and no care about infections and different things like that. Then, all of a sudden being thrown into a world that's every two to three days you're changing sites, or pumps, or cassettes. Your travel bags change because you need to make sure that you have enough medication that if you get stuck somewhere, this stuff isn't readily available on the Walmart pharmacy shelf. It's delivered to your house by a specialty pharmacy. So that was a big change. Then, realizing that the type of medication that they were giving him wasn't having the desired effect. Then, they went to another medication which his body was kind of rejecting the lines that they were putting in that. Then, he had to have open heart surgery and he was, I think the third child in Canada did ever have this surgery. So that was another milestone, because now it's life before the surgery and after the surgery and how things change. Now, we're coming up in the next maybe two to five years of listing for transplant. But we don't know. So you're making sure that life is normal and you're getting out camping, but you're also trying to see and be mindful and cognizant of the different breathing changes. It's such a small change that grows gradually over time. You have to be so aware of your person. We live a far distance away from our PH clinic. It's an 11-hour drive. I'm so glad that we're able to live where we live. We live where people vacation. It's the wine capital of Canada, and golfing, and beaches, and lakes and all that type of things. So moving away from that to a place where you'd be right near your hospital and right near your care, that's great, but it's not the lifestyle that we want Brendan's mindset to be in all the time. We want to make sure that we have the separation so that when we go to the appointments, we still don't make it about the hospital and we don't make it about the appointment. We do something fun. We go mini golfing, we do some different stops, we have different sites that we see. So just taking everything into context, it's a full-time mental job on top of housework, and your regular job, and your other children, and your spouse and your friends, and oh, make sure you look after yourself in there too and have your self-care. Well, what's that, right? What does that look like? Does it look like a 10-minute walk? Does it look like a Starbucks coffee on the way to work? That is the self-care, because that's all you have time for. I feel like PH parents make it look easy. It is not easy. It's indescribable how difficult it is. But after being in this for 10 plus years, it's normal. If someone says, "Describe what you do, or describe life before this and life afterwards," I can't remember. I have no idea. This is just our normal life and when you lay it all out and when you put everything out that you do, some people can't really fathom it. I use the term blissful ignorance a lot, because I don't think ignorance in that respect is a bad thing. I wish that I was like that. I wish I could go back 10 years ago or 11 years ago when Brendan was three and we had no idea. That would be amazing. I can't even describe what I would give to go back to that because I had no idea. Thankfully, if it wasn't for this, I wouldn't be the person that I am and I wouldn't have the small likes, and loves, and enjoyments that I do have. Although I do wish that Brendan and I could change places. If I could change places with him in a second, I would so that he didn't have to deal with what he deals with. But I have to keep going and keep forging ahead and help him live the life that I want him to have, whether he has a PH diagnosis or not. Until about a year and a half ago, he had nurses that went to school and I was always like, man, when he goes to high school, we had great nurses, we had a great team that supported him at school, but as he got older and as he was really able to say like, "I don't feel well today or I don't want to do this, or this makes me feel strange," or whatever have you, his dad and I were like, we don't want him to have a shadow at school. We want him to have the high school experience that he's not being always supervised, and always followed by somebody, and always just having something else there around him. We want him to go hang out with his friends and go laugh or maybe have a little girlfriend that his mom and dad don't know about. You know what I mean? We want him to be able to have all the experiences that all the other kids have. It was a really hard adjustment, but making sure that Brendan was comfortable enough, or I guess it's not Brendan, Brendan was comfortable, us being comfortable that he was able to recognize and actually voice that something was wrong. Because when you're a kid, you don't want to always tell your parents something. He even said today, I had no idea that for the first week when he had his sight, he was like, "I was told that if it hurt or something changed that I should ask for a site change." He's like, "It hurt but I just said it was okay, because I didn't want to have another site change." So it's those types of things. We have a great medical team out in Edmonton. There's decisions that he makes, that we make as parents and that his medical team makes. So every decision that he can make, he gets to, whether get his blood drawn at 9:00 in the morning or 1:00 in the afternoon. If he can make that decision, then that's great because that'll help him live with this disease, this condition and everything that he's got. But also as a parent, we can see what types of decisions that he makes and engage how comfortable we are. Now, I trust him wholeheartedly. His medical team trusts him. He's definitely shown us he can be his own person without having someone else with him all the time, which I think is really great. As he gets to be 16, 17 and start driving, then we can say like, "Hey, see you later. Have fun. Let us know you get there safely." He'll be able to advocate and do what he needs to do. He's done great with that at school. He's a pretty cool kid. As we look forward to him transitioning from pediatric care, to adult care, from living at home to living outside, I try not to have the selfish feelings like, "Oh, I'm not going to be able to have control over everything anymore." Right now, I’m starting to teach him how to advocate, and what to say, and what to look for, and trusting him that getting other people to be able to trust him, and listen to him because he is still young, but making sure that he has the confidence in himself and being able to speak for himself I think is pretty important. My name is Kristine Ritchie, and I'm aware that my son, Brendan, is rare.

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[thinkpink212]

I live away from family too! Gosh, its been so hard, and with little to no friends I feel like I am loosing it! Any advice on how to deal and stuff? <3

Aww boo I hear you!

Keep in touch, but not too much Knowing how your loved ones are and communicating how you are, seem to always help me a great deal. But remember that a little distance is good when its healthy distance. What I mean is, make sure you are still doing your thing; working, cultivating your hobbies, staying on top of chores etc. Keep in touch with your family and friends, but also keep busy so that your mind doesn't constantly fixate on their absence. What ill do... ♡ Facetime my fav cousin from time to time. ♡ Call (or voice message) with my mom whenever were free ♡ Evening and morning texts with my closest friend (and try not to reply in the middle of the day unless it is urgent or I truly have time) ♡ Schedule meetups/trips in advance, especially with friends! Now a month like May is a little more special because you get to see your people for a few days! ♡ Randomly messaging "Hi, how are you" to my younger cousins who I don't think know how to really talk to me fully but have expressed their wish for more communication. Even if it is short interactions', I always ask for cool pictures from their week, updates etc.

Remind yourself why you aren't there but here It is important to always remember where you came from, why you are here and why you must stay! Sure, sometimes the justifications don't seem worth the loneliness, but trust me, at the end you will see how much you've achieved! Find people where you are, a temporary (with potential of permanence) family This could be via groups on facebook, sports classes, church, cool events happening around town. Get out there and meet people. But also remind yourself that being in a cowed or even a small gather, cannot fix the loneliness - but at least you could be distracted and having fun for a few hours! You are not alone!

Be prepared to ask for help, accept help but also the opposite Being alone means no one to lean on how you may have been able to before. Hard decisions, adulting and all of that is in your hands. You have to make the calls, schedule the appointments, make sure you're fed, clothed and good! But also, when it gets hard, ask for help; Need advice for your studies? ask your Guidance councilor(s), fellow students, professors etc. Confused about insurance? Call and ask all your 'stupid questions' (which, there is no such thing as a stupid question) Don't run from things and people trying to help. Of course have discernment, know when to say No Thank you, Ive Got it vs Thank you, Yes please. But (as said, the opposite can/will happen) Also know that you will ask for help, guidance, support and so on, and you will be given a No, here there and everywhere. Take those No's and place them next to the others and go on till you figure it out. You have to keep going!

Have savings This is always good to have, but having no family or people to truly rely on like that, its good to have a few $ in case something happens and you need to fly out, fly someone over or just cannot work (and there's no one to financially directly support you).

Have a Will This is a bit morbid, but in case anything happens to you, having a drawn up paper (can be made alongside a lawyer or just you writing it on paper, and signing) where you declare what you want done in case of your death, debilitation, accidents etc. You can also delegate your things! It lowkey helps me sleep a bit better knowing all of that is sorted. I have mine send to my email and as a file on my computer - but some people keep it with their passport etc.

Lastly, take care of yourself. Don't let nostalgia trick you into remembering times as being better due to loneliness (this is how you end up with toxic people from your past and attracting them to your presence). Your time is valuable, treat is like so! xo