#first day back and suddenly I am having SO many GI issues again

[loregoddess]

starting to suspect work may be a bigger source of stress than I realized ~~

[pinktintedmonocle]

Pick Me Up, Hold Me Down - A Cobra Kai Lawrusso Fanfic - NSFW

Written for this prompt on the Cobra Kai kink meme: ‘A heated argument turns into sparring turns into a lightbulb moment of them realizing they want each other and both discovering Daniel's size/strength kink. Bonus if slight dom/sub undertones (sub Daniel).’

“You can’t just go around handing out nunchucks to teenagers, they’ll take an eye out!” shouted Daniel, glowering at Johnny.

Johnny scoffed, folding his arms and glaring right back at Daniel.

“I know what I’m doing, LaRusso.”

“Oh yeah?” countered Daniel. “Just like you knew what you were doing with the exposed wires or the damp patch on the ceiling?  This place is a death trap, Johnny!  I mean seriously, it’s a wonder you still have as many students as you do-”

Johnny stopped listening, letting Daniel rant on.

It had been this way for months; Daniel would just show up in the middle of the day while Johnny was preparing for class and start complaining about some minor issue he’d identified at the Cobra Kai dojo, blowing the whole thing out of proportion. Johnny didn’t even know how Daniel found out about this stuff half the time; he had asked once, and Daniel had given a vague response about seeing something ‘on social’.  (“Social what?” Johnny had asked, but Daniel had ignored him.) It hadn’t been too bad at first, only once or twice a week, but since his divorce had been finalised Daniel had been showing up practically every day, shoulders squared, jaw clenched, spoiling for a fight that hadn’t yet happened.

Johnny waited for Daniel to pause for breath before he answered back.

“How about you stop yapping and we take this to the mat, LaRusso?  Deal with this like real men.”

He expected Daniel to roll his eyes and stomp out of the dojo at that suggestion as he usually did, but today was different.  Daniel hesitated for a split second before nodding tersely, pulling off his jacket and tie and rolling up his sleeves.  He adopted a fighting stance, arms raised, one leg stretched back.

“Come on then, Johnny. Let’s settle this.”

Johnny blinked in surprise, but still got into position, taking in Daniel’s expensive shoes, suit pants and fitted silk shirt.

“Sure you don’t want to change first, LaRusso?”

Daniel sneered.  “I’m good.  I don’t need to wear a gi to kick your ass, Johnny.”

And then they were off. Johnny struck first with a punch to the shoulder which Daniel just managed to dodge, countering with a hook kick to Johnny’s side.  Johnny landed a kick of his own and Daniel landed a punch, and before long they were circling each other, panting.  Then Johnny lunged forward but Daniel spun out of the way and raised one leg and both hands, preparing for a crane kick.  But Johnny was faster; he ducked around Daniel’s foot and landed an open handed blow to his chest.  Daniel toppled over but grabbed Johnny’s leg as he went down and they landed together in a heap on the floor, Johnny on top of Daniel.

“Little twerp!” Johnny growled, staring down into Daniel’s eyes.

“Asshole”, Daniel ground out, breathing raggedly.                                                  

They scowled at each other, both panting, and then Daniel’s gaze flicked down to Johnny’s lips and before Johnny knew what he was doing he had closed the gap between them, pressing his mouth against Daniel’s.  He half expected the smaller man to throw him off, but instead Daniel wrapped his arms and legs around Johnny, eliminating any space that was left between them. The kiss was fierce and needy and by the time they broke apart Johnny felt dizzy from lack of oxygen.  Beneath him Daniel looked dazed with lust, skin flushed and eyes glazed.

Johnny pulled back slightly, staring down at Daniel.

“You’re so small that my whole body covers yours, LaRusso”, said Johnny.  

He had just meant it as an observation, something to say while his brain desperately tried to process what was happening, but the change it wrought in Daniel was instantaneous. His pupils dilated and he let out a whimper before pulling Johnny down for another passionate kiss.

Eventually Daniel broke the kiss, pushing weakly at Johnny’s chest.  “Get up”, he panted.

Johnny stood up reluctantly, holding out a hand to Daniel.  The smaller man took it, pulling himself up on trembling legs, before starting to tug Johnny towards the door.

“What are you doing?” Johnny asked.

“I’m not having sex with you in a strip mall, Johnny.  Let’s go to my place.”

“Sex?” asked Johnny, suddenly a little nervous.  “Sure you don’t want to take this is a bit slower, have a drink first?”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “I’d say thirty-five years is slow enough, but look, if you’re not ready -”

Johnny looked at Daniel then, with his floofy hair and big doe eyes that had haunted his private fantasies for the last three decades, and realised that he had never been more ready for anything in his whole life.  

“No, I am.  Let’s do this”, said Johnny.  He looked down at his bare feet.  “Just let me put some shoes on first.”

He sprinted to his office, jammed his feet into his sneakers and then ran back to Daniel.  They pushed through the door and Johnny just managed to lock up before Daniel laced their hands together and practically dragged Johnny across the parking lot.  Homeless Lynn wolf whistled as they passed her and Johnny shot her a lopsided grin.

They got into Daniel’s car and Johnny had barely put his seatbelt on before they were off, Daniel tearing out of the mall and onto the road.

“We can go to mine”, suggested Johnny.  “It’s closer.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a bigger bed”, replied Daniel.

Johnny couldn’t argue with that so he sat back in his seat.  As Daniel drove he replayed the events in the dojo in his mind.  When he got to the moment when Daniel’s pupils had blown wide he tried to figure out what could have provoked such a reaction.

I wonder… he thought, and leaned in close to Daniel, whispering in his ear.

“You’re so damn tiny LaRusso I could probably pick you up with one arm without even breaking a sweat.”

Daniel nearly crashed the car, only just managing to get it under control before he hit another vehicle.

“Can you please just wait until we get to my place, Johnny?  I’d like to have sex with you with all four limbs still attached to my body.”

“You like that”, said Johnny smugly, pleased with himself for figuring it out.  “You like me telling you how small you are compared to me. It turns you on.”

“Yes, Johnny”, said Daniel through gritted teeth.  “Now please stop talking and let me focus on getting home in one piece.”

As soon as the car came to a stop in the parking lot of the apartment complex Daniel and Johnny leapt out. Daniel dragged Johnny towards his door, fingers laced together once again, locking his car over his shoulder with his spare hand.  He fumbled with the keys in the lock while Johnny kissed his neck, and then they were in and Daniel just had time to lock the door before Johnny picked him up (he did have to use both arms; Daniel may be small but he was still a fully grown man). Daniel curled into Johnny’s chest, pulling aside the lapel of his gi top and sucking a love bite into the skin just below his collarbone.  

“Bedroom?” Johnny gasped, stumbling forwards.

“Turn right”, said Daniel, voice muffled, and Johnny walked quickly through the living room, veered right and then kicked open the door to the master bedroom.  He lay Daniel down on the bed and then crawled on top of him. They kissed deeply for a minute before Johnny turned his attention to Daniel’s clothes.

“Let’s get you out of these”, he murmured and Daniel nodded frantically.  Johnny started to unbutton Daniel’s shirt then had a better idea. He gripped the material with both hands and pulled, the silk tearing with a satisfying sound, buttons flying off in all directions.

Daniel whimpered and started to shake, his whole body vibrating with pleasure.

“You alright, LaRusso?” Johnny asked, grinning wickedly.

“Yes”, Daniel moaned. “Don’t – don’t stop.”

Johnny removed Daniel’s belt and ripped off his pants as well.  He moved down, kissing his long legs before removing his shoes and socks (he didn’t tear the socks; there was nothing sexy about ripping up a sock) and throwing them over the side of the bed.  He took a moment to drink in the sight of Daniel, eyes closed, hair a mess, looking completely undone, before he tore off Daniel’s underwear, letting his erection spring free.

Then he was back on top of Daniel, kissing him all over while pulling off his own clothes and toeing off his sneakers.  When he was naked he lay fully on top of Daniel, lining up their erections and rubbing them together.

“Tell me what you want, LaRusso”, he murmured, biting down softly on Daniel’s jaw.

“I want – I want you to hold me down”, Daniel panted, bucking his hips desperately.  “And I want you to touch me.”

“Alright”, said Johnny. “Put your arms above your head.”

Daniel obliged and Johnny used one hand to hold Daniel’s wrists together, then sat up slightly, straddling Daniel and pinning him to the mattress as he leant over and used his other hand to work Daniel’s cock.

Daniel winced slightly at the roughness of Johnny’s hand.

“You got any lube?” Johnny asked, noticing Daniel’s discomfort, and Daniel inclined his head to a nightstand by the bed.  Johnny let go of Daniel for a moment and pulled open the drawer, eyes widening at the selection of condoms and lube inside.  We’ll get to that later, he thought as he plucked out a bottle and squirted a generous amount into his palm. He wasn’t going to last much longer himself, and judging by how shallowly he was breathing, neither was Daniel.

He took Daniel in hand again as he held him down, and as predicted it wasn’t long before the smaller man came, hips stuttering.  Then Johnny took hold of his own cock and worked himself until he was on the brink of orgasm.

“Can I?” he asked breathlessly, looking down at Daniel’s torso, and Daniel nodded his consent before Johnny came all over Daniel’s chest.

When he was done Johnny flopped down on the bed and rolled over onto his back, panting heavily. Daniel curled up beside him, a hand flung across his chest, and they lay in silence for a few minutes, sticky and sated.

Eventually Johnny cleared his throat.  “I – I should probably get going.  I’ve got a class to teach.”

“Mmm”, Daniel murmured, nuzzling Johnny’s neck.  “Or you could cancel your class and we can stay here and do that again.”

“Uh, yeah”, Johnny said with a rare, genuine smile.  “I can do that.”

[sunshine-thisway]

Breaking Point.

Yesterday was my 25th birthday. In the week leading up to it, I hit a breaking point emotionally. All of the sudden, I realized my anxiety was all-consuming. It was scary and hard and real. This post was a long time in the making. 

I’d like to believe they won’t all be this long but here we are. 

{Some General Background}

I have been really struggling with my health lately. 

I hate how much is wrong with my body. I feel out of control, useless, and a mess. Don’t even get me started on my concerns about the future (but also see the next section about anxiety lmao). I hate how many medicines I’m on. I feel like I can’t do anything without being exhausted or tired or sore or making my joints hurt. I don’t drink anymore. I don’t do anything extra. I just want to be a healthy 25 year old. I want to lose weight and not be ashamed about my health or my body (even though I’m literally doing everything I can right now - without going full on eating-disorder-overboard). I’m thankful I don’t struggle with that anymore. But I’m so sick of being sick. 

{Some Background on the Anxiety}

I’ve had anxiety for as long as I can remember. My parents have it, my mom is on medicine for her OCD. I realized about 12 months ago that I had OCD “tendencies” (which is what you call it when you’re still in early stages....or denial). I started seeing a therapist, basically attributed it to the stress of grad school and stopped going after she basically told me that “I had all the tools, I just needed to use them.” I didn’t (and still don’t) disagree with her- at that time I had what I needed. I got more sleep, better physical activity, started meditating, got back into church...and for a while I felt better. 

Fast forward to this year and I honestly don’t know how I ignored it for so long. Some of the things my anxiety makes me do:

- Feel rushed and panicked almost every minute of everyday

- Question simple expectations and conversations people have had for/with me constantly 

- Question if I am living in the same reality as everyone else...like what if I just think I’m supposed to be on this side of the highway but I’m wrong and I’m going to cause an accident? Or what if I think I’m supposed to be at work at this date or time but really its the wrong day and I was supposed to show up hours ago?

- Check under my bed, in my closet, and out my window every time I get into bed (even after coming back from the bathroom)...not sure what for but it has to be done. Sometimes twice. 

- Check under my sheets for snakes 2-3 times. Not that I’ve ever found one in my 3rd story apartment but hey, the anxiety wants what it wants. 

- Park in certain spots or open/close containers again (especially my unmarked deodorant cap...there aren’t even markings on it but 90% of the time it just feels wrong)

- Check and re-check alarms, locks, work documentation, work schedules, emails, text messages because what if I misunderstood?

- Spend way too much time thinking about the death of my (living) family, how I’ve let them down, how I’m a bad person, and how I’m too much and not enough all at the same time. 

Usually, I know I’m doing it. Usually, I know I’m rushed/panicked/anxious/worried. Usually. But sometimes I don’t. 

{And Back to This Week}

This week, that all changed. Everything I was doing became so painstakingly obvious and I ran into it like a brick wall. I am e x h a u s t e d. 

This week consisted of: 

- sinus infection (antibiotic) 

- adjusting to my first “real” week as an OT (read: anxiety)

- SCARY allergic reaction (didn’t need epi, but it was close...probably actually needed the epi). Not to downplay actual PTSD but I’m convinced half of this week stemmed from this event alone. I could still probably cry just thinking about it. 

- caught a virus (with a whole ass cough, congestion, sore throat, loss of voice, you name it) 

- 3+ panic attacks with crying until at least midnight

- Addy having to physically sleep in my bed with me all week because I couldn’t calm down or even fathom being all by myself even to sleep 

The only reason I made it through the week was because Addy dragged (drug?) me through it. Nothing seemed worth it and nothing seemed possible. 

{The Turning Point}

At some point Monday night, I said it in passing. “Maybe I need anxiety medicine.” - the second I said it, I felt like the world was lift of my shoulders. It started the first of many emotional breakdowns...I felt so conflicted. I don’t want more medicine. I don’t want another diagnosis. But I want to feel better. I don’t want to deal with this anymore. I don’t want to waste my precious time and energy catering to my anxiety. I want to relax. 

And then I had a second thought. What if the anxiety medicine does make me healthier? 

What if I could finally lose weight because I don’t feel compelled to stress eat? 

What if my GI issues decreased because I wasn’t freaking out 24/7? What if I could stop my GI medicine all together. 

What if my joints actually would hurt less with the decrease in stress?

What if I could utilize all of my anxious energy into productive, healthy activities?

And yes, all of those questions were exactly one thought. Anxiety will do that to ya. 

But of course with the good also came the bad; 

What if I’m not as productive or outgoing without this chemical imbalance? 

What if I’m really as lazy and pathetic as I so often feel I am?

What if my anxiety if making me better...or enough? 

Suddenly, I was scared to lose it. I found myself in my own sick solo version of Stockholm syndrome. It seemed easier to not mess with the unknown. Not have another diagnosis. Not have another problem. 

But this is a real medical problem. This isn’t my fault. It may have taken me a full week to accept that fact but I did it. 

It’s going to be a long road and my anxiety won’t be gone tomorrow when I wake up or maybe even three months from now. But things will get better.

And I can’t wait to see the sunshine at the end of the tunnel. 

[hopeperspectives]

Drama review: Mother

Finally got myself together to write a review for this! Because this is a pretty obscure drama in itself, there is quite little active public opinion about it during its run. This was however the only drama on my radar for these few months. I love how it encompasses so many life lessons while only focusing on a few main characters (mainly female, no surprises since the title gave it away!). 

There is no hiding that Mother is an adaption from the Japanese drama by the same name. The original version aired in 2010 which followed a Turkish adaptation and now the Korean adaptation. 

I have actually watched the Japanese original, and I must say the Koreans did justice to it. Both storylines follow a similar progression but there were significant differences, so it doesn’t bore those who have watched the original. I’ll try to mention the differences as we go alone (as well as review the Korean version too… this will be one long post I foresee)

To start, I am absolutely in love with Lee Bo Young! I just love that she picks projects that are not just about the pretty, but rather, projects that have the potential to impact the bigger world of drama watching. I just came from watching I Can Hear Your Voice and boy this role is so different!

Soo Jin was a functional adult but she had so much of suppressed emotions; the way she was abused by her mother’s boyfriend, then abandoned by her biological mother, tied to a fence with a bicycle lock, and a bun for the day, the image is still too visual. 

On top of that, her decision to kidnap Hye Na just threw her off balance and suddenly she is forced into facing her past again while trying to survive in the present. Lee Bo Young depicted this all too well. Her actions were more morally acceptable than lawfully “right”? Then again, is the law always correct? Does it protect the vulnerable? What do I even believe in now?

Soo Jin was also Lee Bo Young’s first motherly role after becoming a mother herself! It’s almost as if you could see how she would be towards her daughter at home. How cute is it that her real daughter actually wants to meet her “unnie” since she had heard Heo Yool call her mother “omma”. (Maybe it’s time for another child Ji Sung!)

We now move on to our little heroine! Even though the adult cast was decided way before filming started (for the longest time, Lee Bo Young was our only name to this drama), the biggest mystery was who would play the child. Whoever played the abused child had very big shoes to fill since the original child actress who played the role in the Japanese version was so amazing. 

Ashida Mana is the cutest little button and she played Reina/ Tsugumi almost flawlessly at the age of 5. Apparently the Japanese director meant to cast an older kid but casted Mana instead and rewrote his story… now that tells you how much talent she had. 

Anyway, I was initially worried they would play down this role since even the initial promotional videos do not show the child every much at all! However, a few episodes in, I am convinced that Heo Yool was definitely the best kid for the job (well, she did get chosen from hundreds of kids, so I wonder why we worried… Haha!). 

It is very very VERY hard to believe that this is Heo Yool’s first acting attempt ever. I mean I know she took classes but her talent is out of this world! I’m always excited when she comes on scene because her acting style is so unpredictably good. The last few episodes where she becomes psychologically unstable were so well done and realistic. Despite these difficult scenes, she seems like a bundle of joy in the bts clips! I only have praises for this little one and I can’t wait to see her future projects.

Onto our actual mothers, Lee Hye Young, who plays Soo Jin’s adoptive mother (Young Shin), and Nam Gi Ae, who plays Soo Jin’s biological mother (Nam Hong Hee). Both actresses offered such delicate performances. I really loved the scene where Young Shin receives the childhood items of Soo Jin. She never had a part in Soo Jin’s early childhood so those photos and items filled that void before she passed on. It was a beautiful moment between both mothers. 

I also loved that mother Nam protected her daughter using her own quiet ways. She knows she had hurt Soo Jin badly and I liked the subtle little progresses they made to mend that relationship. In the Japanese version, it is the biological mother who dies of cancer instead of the adoptive mother. So that relationship progressed differently with some sense of empathy instead. 

One character I have absolutely no empathy for though is Shin Ja Young. In all fairness, Ko Sung Hee worked adequately with what she was given. The main issue I have is i’m not quite sure why Ja Young hated Hye Na so much. I know she is a fun-deprived single mum and we want to say that giving birth to a child doesn’t always make you a mother, but this is really quite drastic. I am quite shocked at how self-centred Ja Young was (anyone would love a random kid in the playground more that how Ja Young loves her own child). Part of me wanted to believe she loved Hye Na even if it’s just a little.

Just for interest, the Japanese version handled Hitomi’s (Reina’s mother’s) past in a different way. This one scene I will always remember is when Hitomi carried Reina to a bridge, and wanted to jump and end their lives as she could not protect Reina from her abusive boyfriend. She did not do it in the end but that struggle on the bridge and that meltdown… that one scene redeemed it for me.

Korea did chose to redeem a different character though, that is Seol Ak played by Son Seok Koo. 

His past was so so sad and unfortunate and although you hate him for threatening Yoon Bok’s happiness, you will pity how all this guy wants is his mother’s love. His past made his current mindsets believable even though they are very extreme and cruel. Also just a special mention, the kid that played Seol Ak was just as amazing. 

Just like Heo Yool, this is also Son Seok Koo’s first TV drama. His portrayal was so creepily good. I was actually very scared for Soo Jin and Yoon Bok and almost wanted the police to find them instead. Maybe the director is just too good with newcomers.

The Japanese version never really focused on their male characters, but what is a Korean drama without a love line? Lee Jae Yoon plays Dr Jin Young who is the best doctor around! I was actually on my edge thinking he may just betray the girls eventually, but he was a pure nice guy. 

I’m okay with Soo Jin and Doctor Nice remaining as friends since “kissing happily ever after” doesn’t fit this drama theme. I just love how Soo Jin and Yoon Bok have a guardian angel they can trust upon.

To conclude, I really love both versions of Mother. For the record, the Japanese version did end differently from the Korean one. Nao (Japanese’s Soo Jin) gives Reina a long letter (somewhat like how Soo Jin wrote Hye Na one before she got caught by the police); she then parts with Reina after sending her back to the orphanage and they only meet again when Reina turns 20. We don’t get to see their faces, but we do know they met in a restaurant. It’s definitely a more bittersweet ending than the Korean one.

Well, as you can tell, there is so much I have to say! But if I do this post will never end.. haha! So most importantly, I definitely recommend Mother! I have so much respect for the original writers for coming up with such a bold concept and for the Korean writers who offered such an impressive spinoff. I may even watch both a second or third time. Do watch the Japanese original too if you haven’t! 

[mylymedlife]

This Story Will Make You Mad.

When you have chronic lyme disease, it can be very hard to know who or what to trust. This story is a perfect example.

When I was diagnosed with chronic lyme disease in 2013, I was also diagnosed with hypothyroidism, as I had low T3, which is a hormone produced by the thyroid gland. I had an unusual situation, as I had low T3, but normal TSH (Thyroid Stimulating Hormone). Normally, if you have low T3, you also have high TSH. But I didn’t.

Apparently, this was cause for concern, as one situation that produces low T3 and normal TSH is a brain tumor. So, my lyme doctor ordered an MRI of my brain. You can bet I was super relaxed about that. Thankfully, I did not have a brain tumor. Thus, my doctor said the lyme infection in my brain (it breaks through the blood brain barrier in the first 48 hours) was interrupting the communication between my hypothalamus and my pituitary gland. The two need to be on good speaking terms in order for the thyroid to function properly.

My lyme doctor recommended thyroid hormones. This turned into a major discussion, because a functional medicine doctor I was seeing at the time implored me not to take the thyroid hormone. He basically said it would goof everything up and that there were more natural ways of dealing with my thyroid issues.

At the time I was dealing with severe fatigue. As in, we were on a previously planned trip to Disney and I had to use a mobility scooter because there was no way I could have walked the park. That kind of fatigue. Can you imagine?

I didn’t know who to believe about the thyroid medication, but I knew something needed to change in the way I felt, so against my better judgement, I decided to take the thyroid hormone.

I have seen two different lyme doctors since the one who originally prescribed the thyroid hormone, and they both recommended I stay on it. Over the years, my T3 levels were closely monitored, with blood draws very six to eight weeks, followed by medication adjustments, if necessary.

Fast forward to fall of 2017. Suddenly, I’m having all sorts of issues with regulating my body temperature. I have a history of always being cold, but suddenly I was always hot. Like, really hot. I spent the harsh Minnesota winter in a sweat. Sometimes I’d walk around the house half naked. I’d be in a public space, and I’d note I was wearing a t-shirt while everybody else was bundled up in sweaters and jackets. 

I know what you are thinking. Menopause. While I am of a certain age, I’m still menstruating, so that wasn’t the issue. 

When you are being treated for chronic lyme disease, you tend to move away from traditional western medicine practitioners, because they look at you like you are crazy when you say you have lyme disease. It gets old.

But the body temperature thing was really bugging me, and I had a hunch it had something to do with my thyroid. So, I made an appointment with an endocrinologist. 

After starting the meeting with the standard “I know you don’t recognize this, but I have chronic lyme disease” conversation, I told the doctor about my past thyroid issues, along with my current symptoms and medications.

He asked to see my blood work from before I started the thyroid hormones, which I had on hand. Sadly, I’m a pro at this, and anticipated his request.  He then asked the million dollar question. He said “How much did you weigh when this blood work was done?” I told him I didn’t know for sure, as it was many years ago, but I guessed it was south of a hundred pounds.

To which he said “I don’t think you were hypothyroid. I think you were starving. When your weight gets too low, things don’t work right.”

When he said that, tears literally popped out of my eyes and rolled down my face. I didn’t even care. I was completely unselfconscious about it. Why was I crying? First, I never wanted to take those damn thyroid hormones in the first place, and it turned out I never needed to. So, that pissed me off. Second, it just reinforced how difficult it is to navigate the lyme jungle. I had not one, but three lyme doctors tell me I had lyme related hypothyroidism, and that it was critical for me to take the medication. In that moment, I was just so exhausted on navigating conflicting medical opinions.

The lyme doctors didn’t make any money off the medication, so I can only believe they had the best of intentions, but still. It’s just infuriating. There are many risks associated with taking thyroid hormones, and it turns out I unnecessarily exposed myself to those risks for four years. Not to mention, taking thyroid hormones is a huge pain in the butt. You have to take them first thing in the morning, one hour before any food, drink or other medication. Psychologically, it never made me feel good to roll out of bed and pop a pill first thing. It just sends the wrong message. I’m sick. I need medication to function. I hated starting my day that way, and I’m getting mad all over again as I write this.

But back to my appointment with the endocrinologist. Once he handed me a tissue and I stopped crying, he suggested I discontinue the thyroid hormones, and then come in for a blood draw in three weeks, once the medication fully cleared my system.

You can already see where this is going. My thyroid labs were completely normal. I was taking medication for no reason. In fairness, I have gained 26 pounds in the last two years, so that likely has something to do with my T3 levels coming back into the normal range.

Two things have happened since I discontinued the thyroid hormone:

Over the course of a few months, my body temperature issues resolved, and I am no longer overheating.

I started to gain weight at an increased clip.

When I noticed my increased weight gain seemed to coincide with discontinuing the hormone medication, I emailed the endocrinologist to ask if there was a correlation. He said there absolutely was. So, all these years, when I have been struggling to gain weight, the thyroid hormones were playing a role in holding me back. My GI system is still totally whacked, so I can’t put all the blame on the thyroid medication, but let’s just say it wasn’t helping anything.

I’m still pretty mad about all this. Yes, it’s true, I did have low T3 at one point. But I’ve learned it’s also true that not all thyroid deficiencies need to be treated, particularly if there is an extenuating circumstance, such as dramatic weight loss.

Here is the moral of the story. You know that expression “to a man with a hammer, everything looks like a nail.” I think that’s also true of many lyme doctors -- everything looks like lyme to them. And that’s my advice today -- if you have chronic lyme, or chronic anything, be on the lookout. It’s too easy for doctors to just blame everything on your chronic condition.

For whatever reason, I always had a nagging feeling my thyroid issue was not lyme related, but I never acted on my hunch because I had three people who had gone to medical school telling me I needed to be on medication, and I figured they were in a better position to know that than I was. Well, that turned out to be misplaced trust.

I am sad to say that after nearly five years navigating the mess of chronic lyme disease, I truly don’t know who to believe or who to trust. I think the fact of the matter is nobody has chronic lyme completely figured out. Not western medicine doctors, not functional medicine doctors, not lyme literate MDs. Nobody. Everybody has their own theories, and I believe they believe them. And I think most practitioners who treat lyme patients have nothing but good intentions. But I can’t help feeling like a human guinea pig. 

We are still on the frontier of this epidemic, and until it gets more attention from the CDC and Western Medicine, there’s not going to be a standard treatment protocol, which means people are going to continue to struggle to get proper care, and will occasionally get sent down errant rat holes, as I did. 

I realize this is more negative than I tend to be, but lyme disease is a bitch, and people who suffer from it have to work way too hard to get well, as they are simultaneously fighting the disease and the system.

I know things could be much worse, and I need to hang on to that perspective. I have learned so much from being sick, and I would never give those lessons back.  But lyme disease has taken much from me, and I have sadness and anger about that. Buy I will never stop trying to regain what I’ve lost. Never. Ever.

[sour--strawberries]

Meow Cafe, part 11

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

universe: Figaro universe, cat cafe!au - Tony works as a barista in a cat cafe and Steve is totally smitten by him and Tony’s overly fluffy cat, Figaro

summary: The work on new Meow Cafe has started, and an unexpected reunion happens.

length: 6 395 words

warnings: this fic belongs to Figaro universe, not focused on tickling, but has some from time to time (none this time)

a/n: aaah, one more chapter to go! don’t worry, the last part is already done, it needs some polishing, so it will be up till end of this year! (it will be also the chapter where new cats will appear!). remember that reblogs, likes and feedback means love!

———–

Meow Cafe, part 11

(part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12)

The days were passing slowly, but were hectic in their own way. Pepper was finalizing the transaction and gathering supplies for the renovation of the new and better Meow Cafe. Natasha took Oliver to his new home and sent Tony and Steve daily updates on how the orange cat was settling in (very good, he still loved to sleep in every threshold possible and Steve couldn’t help but to smile wide each time he saw Natasha and noticed that her clothes were covered in orange fur).

Summer was ending and Steve had to sit down to work and plan a new school year for his students. Tony, on the other hand, became a little anxious, wishing Meow Cafe would open sooner as staying at home for so long was getting on his nerves.

Unfortunately, it started to show.

“I am asking for the last time. Who. Did. This?”

Steve tried to arrange all the materials for the syllabus on the coffee table, deciding in which order he should put them in. He didn’t like to repeat each year the same program, as art was all about creativity and different interpretations, but he will keep it organized, just to be safe from the school director. Mr Fury could be demanding and quite unpleasant when things didn’t go according to his wishes.

“You really think you will get an answer for this, babe?” Steve asked, not lifting eyes from the numerous pages spread in front of him. Maybe he should focus a bit more on sculptures this year, still having in mind the great architecture of Rome.

“One of them will crack sooner or later,” Tony replied, crossing arms over his chest. Figaro didn’t react to accusations and was spread leisurely on one of the cat shelves, his tail swooping gently and showing that he wished that his human would stop making a ruckus and not disrupt nap time. Gizmo was also on the cat shelf, clearly lurking and avoiding Tony’s gaze. Yet, neither of the cats admitted to digging in the big potted plant near the TV, throwing black soil out and into the wooden panels.

“Get down here and show me your paws!” Tony demanded, pointing his finger to the floor for emphasis. At the scream, Gizmo hid away, and Figaro’s tail swooped with more force. It was hard to say who did it, as both cats could be guilty, even if Gizmo acted more afraid. But that was just Gizmo, always easily scared and more delicate, while Figaro had high self-esteem and believed that whatever he was doing, he was doing good. It was humans who didn’t understand.

Steve tried to not smile too apparent, and God forbid, laugh, pointing his angry boyfriend’s attention to him. Maybe he could take Tony out for the weekend somewhere. Not far, just to change the environment. And without cats. That would be the hard part, talking Tony into leaving his babies, but Steve had a feeling all of them could benefit from this. And they had to use the last moments of Steve’s freedom before school starts all over again and he would go back to teaching. Just then, when Steve moved a photo of the Triton Fountain he took during his trip, something else caught his attention. Under it, there was a photo of a cat, one that resembled a whole lot Gizmo. He found the edge of the photo, and slowly pulled the whole thing to himself, holding the last issue of the newspaper he had bought this morning and didn’t look through yet. Tony always mocked him for buying newspaper, claiming that he could find everything on the Internet for free, but Steve liked the feeling of real paper under his fingertips. Not mentioning that torn out pages, scrunched up into paper balls were the cheapest and one of the most entertaining cat toys for Gizmo and Fig, and throwing them paper balls and watching the two cats chase them around, was always fun for all of them.

Smoothening out the newspaper, Steve noticed that he was looking at the lost and found a section of the newspaper. He quickly skimmed through the column, finding the photo again and reading the text below, his eyes widening with every word. He looked back at the cat shelves where Gizmo, unhelpfully, hid away to not be faced with Tony’s wrath, but he was becoming more and more sure of it. He knew that some cats looked alike, but there were too many similar points.

“What?” Tony asked, noticing his boyfriend’s twitchy movements. “Whaaat?!” he demanded again, when Steve shook his head and folded the newspaper, hiding it away.

“Nothing!” he squeaked out. He can’t let Tony see it. Not yet. Not until he would be one hundred percent sure.

Tony drew his eyebrows together in anger and left the relieved cats alone, stomping to his boyfriend instead. “Show me the newspaper,” he said, reaching his hand for the periodical. Whatever was there, he wanted to know.

“It is nothing—”

“Show me!”

“It really is nothing!”

“You promised to never lie to me again!”

Darn. Steve bit his bottom lip and looked away. He did. He should have known that the relief driven promise would come back and bite him in the butt. Feeling defeated, he reluctantly handed the newspaper.

Tony took it, anger changing into victory as he unfolded the paper and looked at the page Steve had been studying a minute ago. At first, he didn’t see anything interesting, but Steve saw the exact moment when he did. Tony’s whole body convulsed and he drew the paper closer to his eyes, not believing what he was seeing. He read the text and quickly did the math in his head, even counting on fingers for double check, a totally unnecessary move as Tony was good with mathematics. It all fitted. The date, the neighborhood, the cat in the picture.

“Gizmo!” Tony called, lowering the newspaper. “Gizmo!” he tried again and it was the desperation in his voice, that made the black and white cat peek out. Green yellow eyes. White whiskers. Black dots on the nose. “Takk?” he asked, waiting for a reaction, but Gizmo’s ears only twitched as if he heard something he didn’t in a really long time. His real name.

It all hit Tony at once and it made his head spin, not in a good way. “Ty stole him…” Tony whispered. According to the column, a cat like Gizmo disappeared from his backyard, the same day as Tiberius brought Gizmo into the Meow Cafe. All Ty had to do was to take his collar off and discard it somewhere. It was so easy and so cruel.

“He stole him!” Tony cried out, turning to Steve. “Why was I so stupid?!”

“Babe…” Steve said softly. He hated that Tony could so easily blame everything on himself. It wasn’t his fault or anyone at Meow Cafe. They all wanted to help the seemingly stray cat, even if the prime condition the cat arrived to them was suspicious, but they saw a man trying to do a good deed, and didn’t question it. They should have pushed him more, but none of them expected it to be a scam and a way to get close to Tony.

“I can’t believe I believed him, what is wrong with me?!” Tony was beating himself. How could he be so blind? Finding a stray cat. He should smell a scam. He should know better.

“Tony, you couldn’t have known—”

“You don’t get it!! I skipped two grades in elementary school, I should be smarter than this—”

Somehow, the comment made Steve laugh and as soon as he had an occasion, he grabbed Tony in his arms and wrestled down to the couch, kissing his dumb genius breathless.

***

“Takk!”

It was the first time, Tony and Steve saw Gizmo looking so happy. When a burly blond with musculature even greater than Steve’s stood in the door, the black and white cat took the shortest way down from the cat shelves and trotted to the man, his tail standing straight and eyes widen.

“Takk, you mighty beast!” the blond called, when Gizmo jumped on his chest and the guy cuddled the cat close. “What a joyous day for us to be reunited!”

Steve and Tony stared with varying degrees of shock, Steve’s dumbfounded face purely because of the way the stranger was talking, which he should already know as he was the one who called the guy, but he thought that maybe he was an actor and caught him in the middle of rehearsal. Tony’s was soon explained.

“Wow, he is hot,” Tony whispered, staring at the long-haired blond and his square jaw. Definitely his type. He felt Steve’s burning look on him. “Outside! It is hot outside! Would you like some water?!” he rambled out, his cheeks becoming pink and Steve narrowed eyes. Riiight. They were having a pretty hot end of summer, with a lot of rain and clouds.

“Thank you, but I ought to be on my way,” the guy smiled, and it was bright and sunny, and Tony felt a bit weak in the knees, unprepared for that. Steve harrumphed and elbowed him in the ribs, causing his boyfriend to squeak. “My brother is awaiting Takk’s return. He wasn’t himself without him.”

“Oh, right! Tony suddenly remembered. "Before you go, I need to see a proof that Gi— Takk is your cat,” he said. Maybe the warm reunion should be a sufficient sign enough, but Tony decided to be twice as careful from now on. The blond fished out his wallet and took out a photo, handing it to Tony. In the photo, was the blond guy, having his arm wrapped around a pale, black-haired man with a stoic expression, holding a cheerfully looking Gizmo. There was a second photo below that one, clearly taken from hiding as it was a little bit blurry, but it was safe to say that it was the dark-haired men, holding Gizmo in his arms and smiling gently at the cat. Tony could feel the bond between them just by looking at the photo. Steve also looked at the photos, just to be sure, but there was no doubt that Gizmo and the dark haired man had something special.

“Fine with me,” Tony said, handing the photos back, and quickly looking at Steve, who smiled and nodded his agreement.

“And as promised,” the guy hid the photos back and took out an envelope instead, “the reward for keeping Takk safe.”

Tony smiled gently, not imaging that he could ever accept money from a fellow cat lover. “You can keep the money. Or even better, you can donate it to a cat shelter.”

“That I shall,” the blond guy smiled back, impressed by such noble behavior. He kneeled down with Gizmo and put a brown collar with a gold oval medallion on the cat’s neck and attached a leash to it. “It’s time to return home, Takk. Say your farewell,” he told the cat, stroking his face. Gizmo turned back and looked at the people who took care of him in the last weeks. Maybe Tony was imagining things, but it looked like if Gizmo bowed his head to them, his human’s regal behavior rubbing off on him.

“Bye, Gizmo! Stay close to home,” Tony smiled and petted the cat’s head for the very last time. Steve did the same, hoping that nothing would again disrupt their peace.

“Takk, my friends!” the blond called for goodbye, laughing at the surprised expressions of the two men. “Takk means thank you in my language,” he explained and went out of the apartment, Gizmo trotting next to his longtime no seen friend, all excited to be on his way home.

“Huh,” Steve said, locking the door behind the guy. “So, he is Norwegian, but talks like Shakespeare,” he thought out loud, “do you remember his name?” Steve asked. It was in the column, but it slipped his mind.

Tony sat on the couch and pursed his lips as he was thinking. “William,” came out eventually.

“No, not William!” Steve laughed. Maybe Tony was great at math and science, but it seemed that he had real troubles with remembering people’s name. “I think it was something like… Thud?”

Steve didn’t have any more time to think about the name when he heard a quiet sniffling. He looked back at Tony and noticed that his boyfriend was swallowing tears and trying not to break.

“Aww…” Steve cooed and sat on the couch next to Tony, letting him cuddle into his side, and cry quietly. Gizmo was back home after nearly a two months of being absent. Tony couldn’t imagine the pain the dark haired man had to endure.

“Do you think he will be happy?” Tony asked, sniffling his words, meaning the cat.

“Of course,” Steve replied, rubbing his boyfriend’s arm soothingly. “He is going back home.”

“Happier than he would be with us?” Tony asked after a while.

Steve smiled while thinking about his answer. He couldn’t imagine any cat being unhappy with Tony. “He is going back to his family, Tony,” he replied in the end and kissed the top of his boyfriend’s head, hoping that it was enough of an answer. “Oh, hey, Fig!” Steve said, when Figaro, practically out of nowhere jumped on Tony’s lap, wondering what the commotion was about. He observed the whole situation out of his hiding spot, not understanding why all his cat friends were disappearing, but also feeling that they were not in danger. It was a weird feeling.

“And you are back to being an only child,” Steve smiled, scratching the fluffy cat under his chin, just where the white spot was.

Figaro purred as an answer, and curled into Tony’s stomach, taking advantage of the moment for a quick cuddle. He felt that his friend needed more company.

Tony sniffled, petting his cat, and being petted by Steve himself. The apartment looked empty again. But he had Steve and Fig and he wasn��t really alone. It was all good, and maybe one day, life would put another cat in his way, but for now, it was fine the way it was.

***

“We will end on this today. For the next class, read chapter five and think about the differences between Roman and Greek sculptures. Class dismissed!”

It wasn’t an everyday occurrence that Steve let his students free before the assigned hour, but the lecture was done, students behaved good and they all earned an earlier break. It definitely didn’t have to do anything with the fact that it was Steve’s last class and he wanted to get out as soon as possible.

“Remember that your first art project is due until end of this month! I won’t accept anything delayed! If you have any questions you can ask me now!” Steve called after the walking out group of chattering teens, hoping that none of them would turn around and ask him questions. He was just being nice, not counting that anyone would take on his offer. Luckily, no one did, and after the class emptied, Steve packed his things and walked out, already smiling at the perspective of the afternoon.

“Are you ready?” he was asked as soon as he stepped out of the room and almost jumped a foot up. “Woah, easy!” Natasha laughed, secretly enjoying sneaking up on her fellow teacher.

“Oh, did you end the class early today too?” Steve asked, walking down the corridor with Nat, trying to make their way out, before the halls would fill with screaming and running teens.

“Yhm. I think I would accompany you today. If you don’t mind that is,” she smiled, her eyes sparkling happily. It was no secret, that each day after Steve was done teaching, he rushed to the new Meow Cafe to help with setting up the place and meet his friends and boyfriend, where they stayed till late hours.

“I don’t,” Steve smiled back, noticing some orange fur intertwined into Natasha’s black sweater. “Aw, Oliver slept on it again?”

“Dammit,” Natasha frowned, looking down at herself and trying to pick the fur out, “I thought I cleaned it well.”

“You know how it is, when you have a cat, everything becomes a cat,” Steve laughed, not so much bothered by the black fur on his clothes anymore but finding it alarming when he woke up and had strands of long fur in his mouth. That should not happen. “How is Oliver doing?”

“Very good,” Natasha replied. They went outside and turned their faces to the sun, enjoying the crisp Autumn air around them. “He tripped Clint over last night. It was hilarious,” she said, giggling, and it was rare to see her giggle. Owning a cat was serving her well. “And how are the things between you and your barista?” Natasha asked, well aware of their eventful past.

“Very good,” Steve parroted, smiling broadly and meaning every word. Maybe it wasn’t the wild heat anymore, but he and Tony were going steady and Steve had a feeling that Tony was the one. Of course, he didn’t say anything yet, knowing that they both could rush into things, and there was no need for that. They loved each other and were not only boyfriends, but partners. It was something Steve never had before. “How are Clint and Bruce doing?” Steve asked, his voice gaining a teasing note. Natasha still didn’t admit to dating them both and living in a threesome, but Steve knew better.

Natasha looked away and bit her cheek, trying to hold a smile back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said in a neutral tone. Of course. Too bad that Bruce had two sphinxes, because additional fur on Natasha’s clothes would point against her.

“Yeah, you don’t,” Steve laughed, not bothered. If Natasha wanted to keep it as a secret and not say anything until they all were ready, he won’t force her. Didn’t mean he won’t tease her. “Oh, do you know if Bruce will be at the cafe today?”

“No, he has evening school today, maybe he will appear around 8 pm — sneaky!” Natasha gasped, shoving Steve in the arm and laughing together with him.

They took the subway and soon were in the neighborhood of the new Meow Cafe. It was just a few blocks away from the previous location, which still counted as a manageable walking distance from Tony’s apartment, which was good. It wasn’t as close to the main street as the previous location, and maybe it was better. It would for sure minimize people coming to get a coffee to go and point customers willing to stay and bond with the cats, without the unnecessary rush.

“We are here,” Steve stopped, letting Natasha take the sight in.

“Oh. It… looks nice,” she said wanting to be polite. It didn’t look nice at all. The building was clearly not used for a long time and the paint was falling off the walls, not mentioning the graffiti on one side. The windows were covered with black foil, including the big front window, so similar to the one that the previous cafe had, to hide everything from the people walking by. The place looked quite depressing in comparison to the shiny new buildings around it.

“They will fix the outside soon,” Steve explained, “I saw the projects and it will fit right in with the neighborhood.”

“The building looks big,” Natasha observed. Putting aside the poor look, the place had potential.

“Yeah, it is almost twice as big as the previous cafe. More room for cats!” Steve laughed and he knocked on the door, letting everyone know about his arrival before entering. “Hi! I brought a guest!”

“Hi! Come on in!” Pepper called, leaning out from her place on the spacious couch, sitting with Happy and Rhodey. The small group was in the already done part of the cafe, with walls painted in warm brown colors and latte stripes, and some furniture, stacked in a corner and still waiting to be placed. The only available furniture was the couch, covered in plastic wrap for safety until painting would be done, and small plastic tables in front with empty boxes of Chinese food. The place smelled of fresh paint and exotic spices, and it was a harsh combination, but Steve and Nat quickly got used to it.

“Long time no see!” Rhodey called to Nat when she and Steve approached and Pepper stood up to greet her properly, boys quickly following.

“It looks much nicer here,” Natasha smiled, loving how the paint made the whole place look cozy. She could imagine the whole cafe done in such colors and she already knew it was a good choice.

“How’s Oliver?” Pepper asked her friend, and everyone sat down, the girls talking about cats, while Steve asked Happy and Rhodey was there any more work left for him and how the progress was going.

“We finished installing the bar today,” Rhodey said, pointing to the bar area, “it is fully functional so we don’t need to drink instant coffee anymore!” he grinned, the next second standing up to properly greet their guests and serve them a cup. Steve watched a bit amazed, how efficient Rhodey was with the sparkling new and, in his eyes, highly advanced coffee maker. Maybe it was mandatory for all of Tony’s friends to pass a barista exam. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if that was the truth. Soon, he was presented with a cup of latte with sugar, while in front of Natasha was a double espresso, strong and black.

“The whole back office is done,” Happy summed up, listening all the renovations that already took place, while Rhodey had been preparing coffee. That included the office, cat room, kitchen and bathroom for workers. “Half of the cafe needs painting and changing of the panels, and then we have to do the bathroom for clients and the playground.”

“Playground?” Natasha asked, surprised by the words, taking a sip of her espresso.

“For the cats,” Pepper picked it up from there. “It will be an area specifically designed for cats, without access for the customers. Some pillows, toys, cat shelves, to rest and play, while customers could observe. We will put in there a lot of hiding spots in case one of the cats decides that they don’t want to be seen.”

“And then the outside. The signboard is in the making together with curtains and pillows for the furniture. We have painters scheduled. It should go smoothly now, it was a pain to fix the whole installation, it is an old building and we needed to take all precautions to not— you know,” Happy’s voice dropped. He didn’t need to say it. The fire. The official cause of the fire was faulty installation, but the opinions among the crew of Meow Cafe were divided. Very divided.

“Um, where is Tony?” Steve asked, trying to change the topic.

“He and Janet are in the kitchen. They are testing some recipe,” Pepper answered, “and I think they were saying something about trying out new uniforms?”

As on cue, there was a hearable swing of the door, and Janet’s head peaked out through the double door, the same model with an easy swing used in all restaurants. Some sweet, warm scent of spices made its way into the room and it showed how well ventilated the kitchen was.

“Good, you all are sitting!” Jan brightened, and before anyone could ask why exactly they should be sitting, Jan popped her head back into the kitchen, took a three-second break, and then leaped out again, opening the bar area and standing outside. “Ladies and gentlemen! May I have your attention, please!” she announced, putting both hands around her mouth. It wasn’t necessary, as everyone already turned to her, curious what was going on. “Straight from the runaway, I present to you, the new Meow Cafe uniforms!”

And…

Nothing. The group exchanged perplexed looks.

Janet huffed her cheeks out. She turned to the door leading to the kitchen, and stomped her foot impatiently, the rubber sole of her sneakers barely making any sound. “TONY!! Get your ass here, or I will drag it out!!”

The comment made everyone chuckle a little. That was Janet, going from super sweet to super angry in less than a second.

There was another three-second break, and Janet almost jumped back into the kitchen, when the door opened.

The usual Meow Cafe uniforms were quite simple. They were aprons, black, with embroidered logo on the chest, and a big pocket in the front. Standard off the shelve. When Tony walked out, everyone saw that the new uniforms were not so different. The apron didn’t change, it was still a classic cut, just instead of the pocket being in the center, there was a smaller on the side, near the hip, and there was a second one, the same size, on the opposite side, on the chest. It was knee length and had a dark grey stripe of material around the middle, for a better fit. The used material was in steel grey color, which was less formal than the classic black from before. What made it stand out, was the accessories.

Why Tony was reluctant to go out, became quickly explained. At the top of his head, was a headband with cat ears attached, black with brownish stripes, the color resembling Figaro’s fur. It was not the end. On Tony’s hands were big gloves, cut out to look like cat’s paws, with pink paw pads, and also the same color as the ears. The fingers were cut though, and Tony’s own fingers were visible. It made sense, seeing that workers had to somehow write orders and serve coffee. It was surprising that Janet didn’t draw any cat whiskers on Tony’s cheeks to complete the look, but maybe she dropped that idea because of the goatee on brunet’s face.

The reactions were divided, from Natasha’s staring in shock to Rhodey quietly laughing at his friend’s new cat look, but it was Steve who won everything, by chocking on his coffee and spraying it out of his mouth on everybody.

“Ew! Steve!” Natasha scolded, wiping her face off.

Tony’s mouth dropped as he just noticed his boyfriend and Natasha among the crew. Jan had to time it out like that on purpose. “You tricked me!!” he pointed a paw at his friend, finger pointing at the beaming girl.

“Doesn’t he look great?!” Jan buzzed, obviously proud.

“Um… Janet…” Pepper started insecurely, while the rest of the group was drying themselves off and grumbling, except Rhodey who was still chocking with laughter. And Steve, who was still staring at Tony. “It's… It’s nice,” she said clumsily, unsure how to end.

“I know! And the material is easy to wash too! No more coffee stains! And this!” Jan took Tony’s hand and showed the pink paw pads. “Can be used to wipe off the tables!”

“Shouldn’t agree to let her design the uniforms,” Happy leaned to his wife and whispered, and Pepper grunted, knocking the man away.

The group didn’t say anything. No one wanted to hurt Jan’s feelings. Maybe Natasha wouldn’t mind, always speaking what was on her mind, but it wasn’t her place.

“By the way, I was joking,” Jan ended the silence and pushed Tony closer to the group, making him stumble. “Only the apron is for the cafe, I made the rest to make Steve spit coffee out,” she smirked, pleased that her plan worked.

Everyone breathed out in relief, especially Pepper. She took the hem of the apron and rubbed the material between her fingers. “It is really great, Jan!” she started and everyone followed with praise.

Steve didn’t say anything and kept looking from his blushing boyfriend to Janet, finally stopping on the girl. “So, can Tony keep the ears?” he asked, and if Tony wasn’t blushing enough before, his face just exploded with red. Luckily, he had his paw gloves to hide into.

“Sure!” Jan smiled, stripping Tony off the uniform and passing it along the group to get all the feedback she could, before she would start sewing for everyone. She encouraged Tony with another push and practically made him stumble into Steve’s lap.

“Aw,” Steve cooed, holding his boyfriend, feeling enamored by the cute behavior. “Come here, my kitty,” he said and pulled Tony closer, kissing him once, not wanting to push it in front of the group. It seemed to work and after the last grumble, Tony sat next to Steve and pulled the gloves off, but left the headband in his hair. Just for fun.

“I am thinking of putting here a cat’s face,” Jan smiled, squeezed between Rhodey and Pepper, and drew a circle on the lower pocket with her finger, showing where the pattern should be. “Maybe in a white thread!”

“Hey, weren’t you baking something?” Happy asked, remembering why Tony and Janet went to the kitchen in the first place. Jan almost jumped out of her place, but Tony was faster and stood up first.

“It is fine, I will get it,” he said, motioning for the girl to sit down, “I got the mittens for it,” he took the previously discarded cat gloves and walked back into the kitchen. When he came back, he was holding a tray with giant cookies on them. “The oven turned itself just as we programmed it! Dig in!” he smiled, setting the tray down and taking two cookies with himself, for him and Steve.

Steve looked at the giant oatmeal cookie that was handed to him, seeing nuts and raisins in the dough. He took the first bite, and the taste and combination of spices definitely rang a bell in his head.

“Wow, those are really good!”

“Delicious!”

“Way better than the one we used to serve!”

“What recipe did you use?”

“Steve’s!” Tony announced happily, and all eyes turned to him and the blond, and it was Steve’s turn to blush, as he was not used to be the center of attention. “I hope you don’t mind,” Tony said, turning to his boyfriend. Of course, he first used the recipe and then thought about asking for permission.

Steve shook his head and nibbled on the cookie. He didn’t mind. “It is not really my recipe, it was my grandma’s,” he said and remembered the afternoon when as a little kid he was helping his granny measure out the ingredients and knead the sticky dough.

“To Steve’s grandma!” Rhodey called, raising his cookie and the rest followed, paying a tribute to the woman.

“Really, really good,” Natasha nodded, biting the cookie again, and she wasn’t big on sweets to start with.

“Umm…” Steve said, and all eyes turned to him again. “If you want, you can use this recipe in the cafe,” he offered. Maybe if his friends liked the cookies, the customers would too.

“Are you sure?” Pepper asked. It was a family recipe after all.

“Sure,” Steve smiled, again remembering his past, and this time memories of him and Bucky stuffing their faces with cookies in secret appeared in his mind. Those were good times. “I think my granny would like that.”

Pepper smiled and agreed. The new cafe was given a wonderful new start.

“New aprons and new cookie recipe! We are starting strong!” Janet cheered, and everyone nodded.

“Speaking of starting strong…” Pepper said and looked briefly at her husband, who smiled at her encouragingly. “I want to introduce another change,” she said, turning directly to Tony.

Oh uh. That was the moment. Everyone froze and Tony especially. Of course, Pepper always claimed that Tony would have a spot in the cafe, as long as he wants the job, and while he trusted Pepper, there was no solid guarantee she would hire him back.

“I thought for a long time about and I think it would be the best if…” Pepper made a pause and took a breath, “Tony would become a co-owner of the new Meow Cafe.”

“Me?!” Tony’s eyebrows raised up, and the surprise was lost in the general cheering of the group.

“That’s a great idea!”

“You deserve it, Tony!”

“Go, Tones!”

“What do you say, Tony?” Pepper asked with a smile. “I am promoting you from the head barista to a co-owner. Are you interested?”

“Peeeep…” Tony drawled, brushing both hands through his hair, unsure what to think yet. It was a huge honor, but also a huge responsibility. His fingers caught the headband with cat ears and he took it out of his hair and looked at it. If he became a co-owner, it would mean no more goofing around. No more being late. No more serving the customers, but planning and managing a group of people. And, if he was being honest with himself, he liked being a barista. He liked having direct contact with clients, and looking after the cats and job flirting with customers, granted he didn’t want to do that anymore seeing that he had Steve — his inner turmoil was interrupted when Steve put a hand on his knee and squeezed in a loving gesture. Tony’s breath hitched. If he would take the job, he would have a lot less time to spend with Steve. And…

“I really appreciate it,” Tony looked at his friend, and smiled, emotions clear in him, “but I will say no. Having my old job back is good enough for me.”

The group was disappointed and Steve smiled sadly, but understood, somehow expecting this.

“Are you sure? Maybe think about it a little more—”

“No,” Tony shook his head, interrupting Pepper, “I am sure. In fact, seeing that you want me back, I would like to become a half-time worker, instead of a full time.”

“What?! Why?!” it was Janet who cried the words out, and everyone gaped at Tony, Steve included.

“Guys, I can’t serve coffee and pet cats till rest of my life!” Tony laughed. He loved his job, but it was time to start new projects. During his free time, he got back into graphic designing and made a portfolio and had big plans. Time to focus on that, and treat Meow Cafe as a stepping stone and form of relaxation. “I am pushing thirty and—”

It was the worst timing for Steve to take a sip of his drink, as he started to choke on the liquid, quickly putting both hands to his mouth to avoid spitting on his friends again. Tony quickly patted blond’s back, helping him to calm down.

“You are thirty?!” he called out, unnecessarily loud after the coughing fit ended.

Tony narrowed eyes, sending the blond a calculating look. “In a few months, yeah, why?” he asked, and his tone told Steve to very carefully pick his words.

Steve felt a note of panic. He looked among the group and saw Rhodey and Pepper looking back at him, and he suddenly remembered that they were Tony’s peers, and very probably were the same age. Not that it mattered anyway, comparing to Steve’s twenty-eight years old, it was barely any age difference, but he always assumed that Tony was younger than him. Twenty-four, top twenty-five. He looked for help to Natasha, but the girl only kept smiling, eagerly waiting how he would get out of this one.

“Are you the same age as… everyone else?” Steve turned to Janet, and he could hear Tony roll his eyes. The brunet girl looked young, but so did Tony, and he couldn’t trust his eyes anymore.

“I am actually forty, but I keep up well,” Janet answered with a huge smile and giggled at Steve’s mortified look, as the blond totally bought it.

“Jan is a freshman in college,” Happy took pity on the baffled Steve, “and so is Bruce, if you want to know.”

Steve nodded, feeling that he made a fool out of himself. Slowly, he turned back to Tony to check if his boyfriend was still glaring at him. Unfortunately, he was. The group started talking again and Steve pulled Tony closer to himself.

“So, you were not joking when you told me that I can drink from white mugs when I get older?” he asked in a whisper, remembering the occurrence that took place in Tony’s kitchen during the movie marathon for their shared friends. That seemed to break the ice and Tony giggled in humor. He smooched his idiot boyfriend, and turned to join the conversation, that currently was on a topic about hiring a new person to fill in Tony’s absence.

“Don’t worry!” Tony called, ceasing the chatter. “I already have a replacement,” he smiled, calming everyone down. All eyes turned to him, waiting for the news. Tony just smiled mysteriously, enjoying the attention. He leaned to take Steve’s cup and took a sip of the nearly cold latte. “But it is not set in stone yet. You will find out soon. And can I get a proper coffee?! Do I have to do everything around here?!” he called dramatically and stood up to go to the coffee machine, Rhodey soon following and arguing that the coffee he had made was fine, and Tony was being a pain in the a–

Steve kept smiling, listening to the chatter around him and the sound of coffee beans being ground.

Big plans, big changes, but less and less time to adjust.

————————

<— previous part   next part —–> 

[ppatibandla]

My Quarter Life Crisis

Told in a Series of Saved Snapchats

In about four days from now, I’m going to turn 26, which made me think that this might be a great time to reflect on year 25 of my life.

And well, also because I’m going through a post new year slump. You know, the point of time when you realize that you’re not sticking to any of your resolutions, you’re still recovering from the holiday season and struggling to get back into the daily grind, blah blah blah.

Since my creativity and productivity are at an all-time low, I figured that maybe if I just write and reflect, it might help get the juices flowing in my brain again. And I obviously had to tell my story in the most stereotypically millennial way possible - illustrated by a series of Snapchats that I’d saved over the year! :D

Sooo, back to 25 - the milestone number, the axis of our twenties, the pinnacle of our youth *eye roll*- was it everything I’d hoped it would be? Absolutely freakin not! Why? 

Well to start, I spent most of the first half of my 25th year, sick as a dog. I’m not sure what exactly happened but sometime in 2016, my immunity decided to go on a vacation.

Pretty sure I had brought it upon myself with my love for Indomie and Chunky Monkey (I’m sorry, mama!), but my body was suddenly no longer capable of fighting bad bugs on its own.

I was on antibiotics for various infections, eight different times in a span of fewer than six months. The amount and dosages I was prescribed caused absolute chaos in my body. 

Two months into my 25th year, after a particularly high antibiotics course, my stomach was pretty upset (common antibiotic side effect). I waited for the effects to fade away, but they never did. One week in, three weeks in, one month in, two months in…...my stomach was still chronically upset. When I say “upset”, you’re probably visualizing explosive diarrhea but it wasn’t that. I could literally not eat any food without my stomach bloating, having immobilizing cramps and feeling extreme pressure and fullness.

Now, all of these symptoms might not seem like a big deal, but imagine if this is your constant state of being where you’re always aware of the discomfort in your stomach. Imagine if the only time you feel relief is when you wake up in the morning because your stomach is empty then. Imagine if anything you put in your mouth is accompanied by the anticipation and fear of feeling like crap for the rest of the day. This was my life for months.

The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me, they said I probably had Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS). Now those who are familiar with IBS will also know that it is basically a medical pseudonym for “we don’t know what the hell is wrong with your stomach”. I didn’t even know what the problem was in order to look for a solution! So to fix myself, I had to turn to the last place I wanted to for help - the internet.

When you look up a sickness on the internet, it can actually be really helpful or it can fill you with a crippling fear and conviction that you’re going to die. But I had no choice because my doctor had sent me home with this very wonderful, completely unhelpful advice: 

“Well all your tests seem normal. Just wash your hands more and get more sleep so you don’t fall sick.”

*crickets*. This is what you went to med school for, lady? Thanks, much. >:-[

Also, everyone and their dog is a doctor on the internet. You have no clue who out there actually knows what they’re talking about and who is click-baiting you. 

Norma here would have made a much better doctor!

After trudging through hundreds of websites, I began my experimentation with the different remedies that Dr. Internet prescribed, in the hopes that it would give me some relief.

I tried three-day juice cleanses (juice only diet) and water fasts. This is supposed to help reset your stomach by giving it a break from digesting food. I received temporary relief but the moment I started eating again, my discomfort would return.

I avoided foods known to cause intolerance for months like gluten, dairy, soy, eggs, caffeine etc.

On a side note, I never realized how difficult life is when you have to actively check for and avoid ingredients like gluten, which wipes out more than half the options available to consume. My utmost respect for people who have to do this on a regular basis!

But that wasn’t helpful either because my condition was seemingly random, not caused (though exacerbated) by any particular kind of food.

I tried more antibiotics (look up Xifaxan, you need to sell a kidney to even afford this medication) and a ton of herbal drugs. Seriously, while my peers were out spending their money on vacation and parties, I was spending all of mine on expensive herbs and probiotics which promised results, but sadly never delivered. The herbal stuff was especially scary because it’s not regulated by the FDA - I was gambling with trying to fix my problem at the cost of causing new problems for my body.  

And of course, I also tried more obvious things like yoga, crying, praying and what not, all in a desperate attempt to fix myself. I was trying to go about my daily life and work with a semblance of normalcy but I felt anything but normal. 

There I was at 25, prime of my youth, unable to consume food, taking fistfuls of pills every night and avoiding eating any actual food, just so I didn’t have to deal with the discomfort. I lost a bunch of weight and the stress took the biggest toll on me, making my condition even worse. As if all of this was not bad enough, various members of my immediate family were having serious health issues as well which was further upsetting me.

Finally, sick of my constant visits, the doctor recommended that I get an Upper Endoscopy - a procedure where they shove a camera down your throat to look inside your stomach to make sure you don’t have cancer or a tumor.

$800 and the awful experience of having a minor surgery all alone later, the doctor came back and told me the same thing - my tests were normal! He suggested getting some other tests done too and kept talking, but as I laid there in bed in my shitty hospital gown and listened to him talk, I totally had a dramatic, bollywoodesque moment. I felt the doctor’s voice fade into the background as I made up my mind that I was fine. I covered all my grounds, did all the tests, tired all the remedies which yielded no results. I decided right then and there that I was going to be fine, even if I wasn’t.

And I swear to God, it felt like a switch had flipped and my body started getting better overnight. That night for dinner, I said “screw this shit” and bought myself pizza - I was eating gluten and dairy after months! I went back to eating everything like normal and ignoring the familiar discomfort I felt in my stomach.

Hell yeah, I post food Snapchats! Judge away!

And just like that in the following weeks, I started feeling so much better. Am I absolutely cured today? Is this going to be a miracle recovery story? Sadly, nope.

I still have pretty bad days when I’m doubled over with pain and I still take many probiotics and supplements every night. IBS is a chronic condition with no cure, it can only be managed. I know that it could be worse and that I should be grateful - I am grateful. But IBS has definitely affected the quality of my life and I will probably never be able to fully go back to how I was before. But I have learned to live with it and it’s just another part of my life now.

These were just some of the herbs, probiotics, supplements, vitamins and prescription meds I took (and still take) over the past year :/

So there you go, adulthood hit me like a brick when I turned 25 by bringing on wonderful IBS and what’s more stereotypically a sign of age than GI issues?  I brought this upon myself because of self-imposed stress. The moment I consciously stopped thinking about it, I gave my body the opportunity to restore itself, at least to a capacity where I was able to go about my daily life with relative ease.

None of the stress I was dealing with was particularly special, it’s stuff we all deal with - career, visa, money, family, friends, romance etc etc. But I let it get to me and it nearly destroyed the one thing that I actually can’t fix if broken - my health.

In addition to being chronic, IBS is also pretty common and affects many people in different forms. I am hoping that my overshare story is relatable to those who suffer from it and for those who don’t, please chill out and don’t mess yourself up over things that don’t really matter like I did. Pretty basic life lesson which we all know but conveniently ignore.

But year 25 was still pretty awesome - I made great new friends (and lost some) and got my H1B visa finally after 3.5 years. IBS definitely did not hold me back from going on many many many adventures. 

A Snapchat montage of all my adventures from year 25.

While I’m super excited for 26, I do feel the twinge of regret because like most people my age, I’m nowhere near what I thought I would be by now. But a big part of growing up is realizing that the world sucks, it’s not fair, there’re always going to be men with bad hair and no intelligence (read Trump) trying to control you and there ain’t nothing you can do about it. It’s all about accepting that success is defined differently for everyone, that you can’t change everything and being okay with that. It took me a totally avoidable physical and mental crisis to realize that. Here’s me hoping that your journey to self actualization is smoother!

P.S Before you click through and start reading my older blog posts, please note that everything before this was from when I was younger, dumber and not nearly as woke. 

[i-just-love-writing-crap]

Catching Murphy, Part 3

Warnings: Swearing, possible nsfw content Word Count:  Summary: You, Miss (y/n) (y/l/n), had a crush on Connor Murphy for years, from a distance of course. You had always been too shy to approach him, and the fact around school that he was an aggressive stoner caused you to become even more shy. One day, in history class, your teacher decided to assign a project and assigned everyone a partner—you and Connor were partnered together. Could you two grow close during the project and remain close? Or will Connor go back to ignoring you after the project comes to a close? A/N: I apologize if Connor is a biiiiit OOC… ;-; Obviously takes place in an AU where Connor is alive Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Connor watched as you practically scarfed down the mac & cheese he made for you, all the while you were continuously talking about the project. He saw the passion in your eyes as you continued talking, and the little tug of a smile that was constantly pulling at your lips as you droned on; it had him almost smiling himself. He didn’t feel the need to smoke at that moment, because he was actually rather absorbed by you—something he never thought he’d be able to say. I’ve never been able to say a person has captivated me like she does before now, he thought to himself as he watched you.

You were blissfully unaware of the Murphy boy’s observation of you, all you were focused on was talking about the project. You were so into trying to plan out what you were going to put in the PowerPoint, you didn’t focus on anything else. “So, you’re really okay with this topic?” you asked, picking up the last spoonful of mac & cheese.

The young man before you seemingly didn’t hear you, as he was still observing you. It suddenly became clear just how intensely he was observing you. His eyes never left your face and it was resting in his right hand. An almost longing look was in his eyes, which really threw you for a loop. Not only had you never had a guy look at you like that, but this was Connor fucking Murphy—the known aggressive stoner from school. The aggressive stoner that you had been crushing super hard on since seventh grade. You felt your heart rate picks up and your face started heating up—it felt like Connor was staring into your soul.

He was so into just watching your features as you talked about Egyptian history, that it seemed like he lost himself. Connor was lost for a while, until you gulped down your embarrassment of the fact he was staring at you. You snapped your fingers in his face, exclaiming, “Connor? Connor. CONNOR MURPHY!”

Blinking slowly and shaking his head, Connor snapped out of it. “What? Why are you fucking screaming at me?!” he hissed.

“You zoned out… and it looked like you were staring at me. I asked you a question and you didn’t answer me,” you said.

He sighed and settled down, “Oh, that’s nothin. What the fuck did you ask me?”

“If you were okay with this topic,” you answered.

“Like I said earlier, I quite frankly don’t give a fuck. You seem to be really passionate about this topic, and knowledgeable in it. So, sure, let’s do it. Also like a fucking said earlier, I can’t really be of any fucking help because I’m not good at this stuff,” came his answer.

You nodded and finished off your mac & cheese. “Okay, I’m done with my food, let’s get this rolling,” you said, walking over to the sink with the empty bowl in your hands. You place the glass bowl gently into the sink, then turned and looked at Connor. “So where are we gonna go to start the project, Con?” you asked.

Connor sighed and pushed himself away from the table, standing up. “My room. I don’t need my parents freaking out when they get home and see a girl here. Because they’ll act just like fucking Zoe. ‘Oh Connor, you brought a girl home, is this your girlfriend? Does she agree with you smoking pot all the time?’ blah, blah, blah. I don’t really feel like fucking dealing with that shit.”

“Yeah, okay, I get that. I don’t feel like being bombarded with questions by your family. Especially with them assuming I’m your girlfriend. I mean, fuck, we barely know each other. Today is literally the only day we’ve been talking,” you agreed.

Walking towards the door of the kitchen, Connor said, “C’mon, you fucking dork.”

You smiled softly, he didn’t say that with a super hard tone, so you knew it was a kind of pet name. “I’m coming, you damn stoner,” you answered, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Keep sticking your tongue out at me, I’ll grab it and won’t let the fuck go.”

“No you won’t, Con~!” Connor rolled his eyes and walked upstairs to his room, and you followed him. He kicked open his door and immediately the slight smell of weed flooded your senses. To Connor it wasn’t too bad, but for you (who had never really smelled weed often) it almost knocked you out. “Eww, what’s that god-awful smell?” you asked, covering your nose.

He looked at you and laughed, “That, dork, is the smell of weed. Wanna try it?”

You stepped into his room and thought about it. “Maybe after we get some of this project done with.”

That seemed to get Connor’s eyes lighting up as he asked, “Wait, are you being serious, dork?”

“Yeah, why not. It’s something new to try, right?”

“You’ve never smoked before?”

“God no, why would I?”

Connor sat on his bed and laid down. “Well, I do it because it helps with my issues.”

You sat on the floor in the middle of the room and said, “I don’t think you have issues, Con. You seem fine with me.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t know me well, (y/n). I have many issues, the main one being my temper,” he said, staring at his ceiling.

“Connor, you don’t really need weed to deal with that.”

That caused him to glare at you and hissed, “Bitch, don’t act like you know what it’s like to deal with a short temper!”

You looked at him sighed, resting your head in your hands, which rested on your knees (as you sat Indian-style), “Connor, I used to have a really sour temper, just like you. But, I got some friends and they helped me reel in my temper a bit. However, if you keep testing me, I’ll blow up… probably… I haven’t done that in fucking years.”

“Oh, well good for you. You’re more fucking social than me, so you have friends. I, however, have no friends and I am very anti-social,” he sneered.

Throwing your hands up, you said, “Whoa, whoa. I wasn’t meaning to trigger you, Connor. And I could be your friend, if you want me to be.”

“Why would I want such a dork as a friend of mine?”

“Because you know you find me interesting, Con. But, you’re absolutely right, you don’t want to be my friend and that’s okay. After this project, you won’t have to see me again. Now, can we worry about this project then get high and then forget I ever triggered you, because fuck dude, I’m sorry,” you said.

“Okay, so yeah I think your kinda fucking interesting, so what? Sue me then, dammit,” Connor grumbled out.

You looked at him and deadpanned, “Okay, seriously. Time to cut the crap and take this seriously. Do you have any paper so I can write down some stuff?”

Connor handed you some paper he had lying around, “Here.”

Taking the paper, you thanked, “Thank you.”

An hour had passed, you and Connor had simmered down from your almost possibly bad altercation. As you wrote down what you wanted on each slide, you and Connor talked. Half of the time it was you continuing to explain to Connor what you were writing, the other half was Connor trying to convince you to stop and smoke with him. He seemed excited that if you did smoke, it’d be your first time, and he used that as a cover. “I just want to get you high, dork,” he would tell you from over your shoulder.

You would always laugh and tell him that you’d do it after you got a good portion of the project done. “Get high without me,” you told him once. He shrugged, said “fuck you then” and proceeded to get high. When the smell of weed hit your nostrils, you grimaced and looked back at him, telling him it was fucking gross smelling. He told you to “suck it up, buttercup”, and you did.

Another 2 hours passed and you were finally done with what you wanted to get done. You let out a heavy sigh and fell over onto the floor, “FINALLY! I am done!”

“Ready to get high now?” he asks.

You looked at him from your place on the floor. “You have more shit with you?”

He smiled and he pulled out some more. “Duh.”

“Dude, why are you so ready for me to get high?”

“Don’t know. You don’t have to, ya know, dork. I can take your fat-ass home now if you want.”

You sighed and checked your phone. It was only 5:15 pm. “Nah, I can stay and try to get high. Are we gonna share that stuff?” you asked, putting your phone face-down on carpet.

“Well, obviously, I only have enough for one more joint. Hope you don’t mind passing the damn thing back and forth between just us.”

You stretched, popping your back in the process, then sat up. “I don’t really have an option, do I? If I wanna get high, I take it or leave it and I’m taking it,” came your answer.

Connor laughed and started to roll the joint, “You have a pretty good point, (y/n/n). While I get this shit set up, why don’t you go get some water? You will definitely need it.”

Groaning, you stood up and followed Connor’s orders. You went downstairs and got a large glass of water. Luckily, his parents still weren’t home, surprisingly. You almost ran up the stairs and closed his door. “Okay, I got the fucking water, we ready?” you asked.

“Yeah, it was ready the moment you left the room. I was just waiting for your slow ass to come back,” he answered.

“Can I sit on your bed?” you asked, walking towards him.

He shrugged and said, “Sure, I don’t give a damn. It would be the easiest way to pass the joint back and forth.”

You smiled a relieved smile and then you sat down beside him, saying, “Okay then, let’s do this. Ready to see me pussy out?”

“Oh, I won’t let you do that. You’ll probably cough like the bitch you are, though,” he snickered.

“And you’ll give yourself a handjob like the lonely fuck you are,” you quipped as you smiled cheekily.

Connor mockingly laughed and lit up the joint. He took a rather big hit and then handed it to you. “Your turn, fucking dork,” he said as he let out a breath.

You hesitantly took the joint and brought it up to your lips. A thought crossed your mind: This is kinda like indirectly kissing Connor Murphy!! That thought had your breath catching in your throat and your heart skipped a beat. Again, not even 24 hours ago you would not have even dreamed that a situation like this was remotely feasible—yet here you are about to get an indirect kiss from Connor. Because of a fucking joint. Your body started shaking out of both nervousness and embarrassment? Could you actually do this? Take the hit, take the indirect kiss, and not do something stupid like blurting out something along the lines of your feelings?

No, getting high isn’t like getting drunk… right? you thought to yourself. Might as well do it and see. Let’s see if I, (y/n) (y/l/n), can handle an indirect kiss from C-Connor…

TAGS: @defenestrate-yourself-please just as if you wanna be tagged an’ I’ll do it!

I gotta leave it as a cliffy! Sorry, mom is making me due shit and I couldn’t continue because I have to get this thing done before it rains here. I will immediately get writing part 4 after I do what I need to!

[sembell]

Moving Forward - Chapter 51

Hey you guys, it’s been a loooong time, I know, but MF is finally back! I missed writing terribly, and you guys were the best motivation to continue despite everything! I hope you find your way right back in and that it continues to bring you joy! Love you all, and especially @justholdinghandsok for forever being my wonderful beta no matter what I come up with :P!

(by the way... NSFW alert! :D) - AO3

“The practice of peace and reconciliation is one of the most vital and artistic of human actions.” - Nhat Hanh

Gillian took her phone from her oldest son, who immediately pulled his hand away, turned around and ushered his little brother out of the room, leaving her behind.

And now there she was, standing in her kitchen all by herself, heart pounding rapidly in her chest, cheeks warm and flushed.

It’s okay, she whispered to herself, trying to find a calm, centered place in her mind. It’s David. Your David. You’re fine.

Looking down at the screen, she deactivated the speakerphone and with one last deep inhale, brought the phone up to her ear.

“Hello, David,” she finally said and closed her eyes; apprehensively, but also impatiently awaiting his answer.

“Hey, Gilly,” was his quiet reply, his voice so soft and affectionate, and Gillian instantly felt relieved.

She wasn’t sure what exactly she’d been expecting, but his gentleness took her completely by surprise. He often used her nickname, “Gilly”, when she was feeling uncomfortable or when she was irritated by someone or something, and he’d lean down and whisper it softly into her ear. It was meant to be reassuring, and it never failed to be just that. Not even now.

Heat rose to her cheeks once again and her stomach fluttered furiously. A bashful laugh escaped her lips, and it didn’t take a couple of seconds before he started to chuckle as well. He was just as nervous as she was.

“I’m glad these two are so damn clever,” he conceded after a few moments, and she could hear the rustling of sheets in the background.

“And that they’re always able to read my mind,” she nodded absently, half her mouth crooked into a lopsided grin.

“They know you, hm,” David said, and it was more like a statement than a question.

“Yeah.”

“Hmm. I guess we’re either horrible actors or we have incredibly smart and sensitive kids.”

“Both, probably.”

David chuckled approvingly. “Probably, yeah.”

The seconds went by, and both of them stayed silent. It felt like she was finally able to breathe freely again, just because of the few words they’d exchanged. And she felt the built up stress and pressure from the entire last week slowly leaving her body.

“I miss you,” Gillian suddenly blurted out, soft and desperate, and immediately closed her eyes at her own stupidity. Damn, she thought. Why did she have to make herself even more vulnerable? And why was she so scared that he would reject her? Hurt her?

He chuckled softly. “I was just… thinking the same about you,” he stated tenderly, and then went quiet for a moment before continuing. “This bed feels... weird without you.”

A small smile formed on Gillian’s lips and she relaxed a bit. “Does it?” she asked and walked back towards the couch, sitting down on her previous spot.

“Yeah… there are… uh, crumbs in it. Eww.” She could hear him run his hand over the bed sheet. ”We might’ve had oatmeal cookies this morning.”

Gillian snorted amusedly and leaned back. “So it feels weird because I’m not there to play the no-food-in-bed-police?” she asked in feigned indignation.

“No, because it’s oatmeal cookie crumbs and not dark-chocolate-chip. And there’s also no good coffee to wake up to,” he pouted, and they both fell into soft laughter.

“I see. I must be greatly missed.”

Truth was, he would probably make a fool out of himself if he’d start to declare just how much she was missed. Especially at night.

More used to have her there than to have to sleep alone these days, he was waking up in the middle of the night because his hand was constantly, subconsciously searching for her warm, soft, feminine body. Most of the time, he’d end up spooning her; arm around her slim waist, hand under her shirt, fingers spread wide over her stomach. Chest flush against her back and face deeply buried into the soft silk of her hair - that was how he slept the best. But when she wasn’t there, his hand would reach into the void and then fall down onto the cold sheets beside him, and he’d wake up in confusion before remembering that they were an ocean apart again. It was his least favorite way to wake up.

He hummed affirmatively and looked at the empty spot beside him. “I miss you a lot.”

There was silence again. Oh how much he wished she was here, so he could wrap her in his arms. Wished there were no issues, no problems to figure out and talk through. No awkwardness.

“Um-” she started, pulling him out of his reverie. “About me flying back to Vancouver... am I right in assuming that you want to talk before we go back to work?”

“Uh,” David cleared his throat, taken aback by the abrupt change of subject. Couldn’t they talk about missing each other a little more? “If it’s possible, yeah.”

“Okay,” she stated in a flat tone, all the excitement and warmth from moments before suddenly gone from her voice.

Back to business, he thought. The sudden shift stung in his chest, but he was aware that she was just trying to protect herself from getting carried away. From letting emotions getting the better of her. This was Gillian after all.

“I’ll take the plane on Saturday then. Is that alright?”

“Sounds good, yeah.” He tried to keep his voice cool. “You want me to pick you up?”

“No need. I’ll just... meet you at the house.”

“Alright,” David sighed. He couldn’t believe that the sheer prospect of having a serious talk could still bring so much awkwardness to them. Especially after all the hurdles they’d encountered and overcome in all those years.

“Good. So, is there something I need to know? Everything okay?”

“Um, you mean with Eaden?”

“For example, yeah,” she said almost incredulously. Not that he left her completely in the unknown whenever she was away from the little one, and she didn’t expect hourly updates, but not being able to just check on her and see her whenever she felt like it was still so incredibly hard.

“No worries, everything is fine,” he said warmly.

“Okay. Then why are you still in bed?”

“Uh yeah well,” he stalled and cleared his throat. “I didn’t sleep well last night, so I’m just catching up on some while Eaden is out with West and some of her friends for a couple of hours,” David answered, deliberately not getting into detail on why he was still so tired.

The baby had been fussy all night; whimpering, crying and asking for Mama in her sleep. Based on that and her fire red cheeks, David was betting on a new set of teeth coming through. But since Eaden had woken up fairly happy and rested, as if nothing had happened, there was no need to alarm the mother who was thousand of miles away from her baby.

“Eaden is out with West and a couple of her friends? That sounds like she’s… twelve or something,” Gillian said, amusement swinging in her voice. He couldn’t see it, but he bet she had the cutest smirk on her lips right now.

“Yeah,” David agreed with a chuckle. “She’s being introduced to the lifestyle of today's sixteen years olds. They went to Point Dume’s beach and I already got a video of like... six teens dancing to some music and our little girl sitting in the middle of everything… under an umbrella, sunscreen painted on her face indian style, sippy cup in one and a pirates flag in the other hand. So I’m apologizing in advance for any damage done on our child’s innocent little mind.”

Gillian laughed out loud, a full belly laugh he hadn’t heard in way too many days, and it sounded like music to his ears.

“I have no doubt that she is having the time of her life right now. She’s becoming a little Californian Girl, huh? She looked quite tanned in the video you sent us.”

“Yeah, she got a little sun-kissed in the last three days. West says her hair is starting to look like she’d gotten it done by a professional with all the highlights in it.”

Gillian sighed. “I miss her so much, David. Just… give her a big kiss from me once she’s back home, will you?”

“Certainly. She’ll be excited to hear you’ll be back in a couple of days.”

Gillian smiled. “I can’t wait either.”

Three days later, Gillian was sitting on the plane back to Vancouver, having said her goodbyes to Oscar and Felix hours ago as she’d dropped them off at their father’s house. The colorful sheet of paper they’d crafted for her the night before was neatly sitting on top of her clothes in her carry-on bag. 32 days were to cross out until she’d see her boys again.

Gillian felt an almost childish frustration that she couldn’t have it all. Her kids, her partner and her work, all at the same place and at the same time. Just this once.

At the beginning, the prospect of filming this new season had been overwhelmingly exciting. The fact that it would be work, hard work, had somehow made it so far into the back of her mind that the intensity of the first days had taken her completely by surprise. As did the problems that had kept piling up faster than she thought was even possible.

Despite the careful and thoughtful preparation beforehand, their lives were way too complicated for everything to go smoothly.

To say that it was all becoming too much - juggling a life in Europe and another one in the US - and actually declaring defeat, was very tempting at the moment.

She already couldn’t even remember what the first episode was all about, and still hadn’t read past page two of the new script. Yet she owed it to Chris and the loyal fanbase to focus on this, and not much else, knowing how much people were looking forward to these six new episodes. And contradictory of what some people were thinking, it was important to her too.

Almost eleven hours after she boarded the completely packed British Airways flight to Vancouver, Gillian finally walked through the sliding doors after spending an hour getting through security, including an unnecessary argument with one very annoyed border officer about the lack of empty pages in her passport.

She was tired, but the better part of the exhaustion she felt was coming from what she knew was lying ahead of her.

A long, lonely way home and an uncomfortable talk which would stir up one heck of a lot of suppressed emotions and fears. Nothing she was really looking forward to. Never had.

Even from far away she was able to spot the long line of people queuing for a vacant cab, and she let her chin fall onto her chest with a heavy sigh on her way towards the end of the line. It would take her at least another fifteen minutes to even get into a car.

A family of six was waiting right before her. The youngest child, a boy she estimated to be around three years old, was pushing his stroller around, and Gillian gave him twenty seconds to ram that thing into her shins if his parents wouldn’t stop pestering their teenage daughter, who was typing on her phone, almost completely ignoring their pleas to take one of her younger siblings by the hand, who the mother held by his wrist, and who were desperately trying to escape. It was a mess Gillian was all too familiar with, and she chuckled inwardly at the beauty of it.

And then, as if someone had counted down the seconds, she felt a tire rolling over her right foot and the right edge of the stroller hit her knee. Hard.

The boy was pulled away from the handles by in an instant with a warning “Braydon!” by the father, and the teenager dutifully grabbed the little ones’ hands while the mother rolled the stroller back hastily, muttered her apologies and looked at Gillian in a mixture of embarrassment, annoyance and expectation. Expecting the single woman with the little carry-on bag to make some kind of a snarky remark, or at least roll her eyes at them, and Gillian could see the surprise on the woman’s face when she was given a soft smile.

“It’s alright, don’t worry,” she appeased with a shake of her head. The father was looking at her with a doubtful expression, but the mother was smiling that same relieved and thankful tired smile she was wearing herself when they were out in the wild as a family, and no one was behaving themselves.

There was that fleeting moment of sadness again, and the feeling that half her life was indeed missing made her throat tighten for a second before suddenly, she felt a hand coming to its rest on the small of her back, making her startle.

She turned abruptly, and looked into the familiar faces of her own little family smiling down at her.

“You said you didn’t want me to pick you up, but I wasn’t expecting you to completely ignore us,” David quipped with a sly grin on his lips, his hand not leaving her back even as Eaden plunged forward into her arms.

“Wha-, hey!” Gillian let out in surprise and caught the baby halfway before bringing her close to her chest. “Hey, honey. Wow, hi.”

“Hihi Mama,” Eaden babbled and squealed as Gillian peppered her little face in sweet kisses.

“Hi, baby! That is… one heck of a surprise! Wha-, where are you coming from?” she asked and looked around.

“Oh, we were standing right over there,” he extended his arm to his left and pointed at a column.

“Oh.” She must’ve walked right past them. “I guess I was too distracted by that horrendously long line here,” Gillian chuckled bashfully, and let her eyes wander over him while pressing little kisses on Eaden’s temple. He wore a decent 7-day scruff, and was dressed as if he was coming straight from a photoshoot; blue linen shirt, skinny jeans and a pair of dark brown shoes Gillian was sure she hadn’t seen before.

She was completely taken aback by his whole appearance, by how shockingly hot he looked, and was just staring at him dumbstruck for a couple of moments, as if she hadn’t seen him in weeks.

“Yeah well,” David nodded and with a quick glance to both sides, gently lead her out of line by her elbow. “If you want, there’s a car with your name on waiting outside to bring you home.”

He was grinning now, that soft boyish grin that made her knees buckle every single time she saw it on his lips, knowing that this particular smile was only reserved for her.

“Uh yeah, I’d really like that,” she stuttered and swallowed, adjusting Eaden’s weight to one side of her hip before running a hand through her own, unruly hair. Could she smell herself or was she just imagining it? She couldn’t believe that she was feeling so self-conscious all of a sudden.

Sensing her discomfort, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the shell of her ear, briefly stroking his daughter's head, whose face was now buried into Gillian’s neck.

Gillian’s cheeks flushed in an instant, and she noticed the other mother smiling at her from the corner of her eye.

“You look gorgeous. Come on, let’s go home,” David said and took her hand on their way to the parking garage.

Their way home was mostly silent. When they’d reached the car, Eadens little hand had already found its way into Gillian’s blouse and had started to tuck at her bra impatiently. While there had been the small hope that one week would be enough at her age to wean herself for good, Gillian felt nothing but relieved that she’d pumped at home when Eaden looked up at her with these big, trusting blue eyes and played with the loose strands of her hair while nursing in the backseat of the car. She was still a little baby needing her mother.

When they were finished, Gillian took a seat beside Eaden, gently caressing her daughter's little face while the baby fought hard to stay awake, not yet ready to take her eyes off her mother.  

The prospect of having to have that talk was hanging over them like a dark cloud, making it hard to concentrate even on the small talk they were trying to hold up.

How’s Oscar doing? Did Eaden eat well? Did she say a new word? When will West and Miller come to Vancouver? Have you read the new script yet? It’s supposed to be funny...

By the time they reached the house, Eaden was asleep, and the sun was starting to set.

Gillian took her time to tuck the baby into the crib - changed and put a fresh pair of pyjamas on her, rocked her, indulging her child’s weight in her arms and the sweet baby scent,  and humming a couple of lullabies before finally laying her down.

Vancouver was different from what she was used from it. No rain in weeks, hot days and mild nights. She wasn’t surprised to find David outside by the illuminated pool, clad in black boxer shorts and the shirt he was wearing earlier, feet dangling in the water. His back was to her, but as Gillian came closer, she could see the smoke of a cigarette rising above him. A bottle of beer was standing beside him at the poolside. It was silent except for the waves of the ocean crashing softly against the shore nearby.

“Need something to loosen up a little?” he asked and held out the cigarette, not looking at her as she put the baby monitor on the ground and pulled her dark blue skirt a little higher before sitting down beside him. He turned his head when she didn’t reach for the smoke.

She was staring at him with an unreadable expression.

“Why would I need something to loosen up?”

“Aren’t you as… tense as I am?”

“Why are you tense?”

He scoffed incredulously and took a last drag before stubbing it out behind him. A sweet scent immediately filled her nose, and she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as she let her feet slip into the water. It was cool and felt incredible on her swollen feet.

“What did you mean by ‘you’re scaring me, David’? What exactly does that mean?” he asked, referring to a text message she’d sent him a couple of days ago, and took a swig out of his beer bottle. She shook her head when he offered it to her, but immediately regretted it. The small talk had come to an end faster than she’d expected.

Gillian shrugged her shoulders and stared down at her feet, absently playing with the thin strap of her white tank-top. “I don’t know.”

“Of course you do.”

“Why are you pretending that you don’t know exactly what it means?”

“I don’t. I just want to know… what did I do to make you question my feelings for you?”

“You didn’t do anything to make me doubt your feelings. If there’s one thing you’ve always made sure of, it’s that I know you love me.”

“Then what is it? The logistics? Bad sex?”

She rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. “Don’t be crude.”

“We don’t have bad sex?”

She shot him a glance and pursed her lips. “Maybe I just wondered if you still want this relationship. If it’s still something that makes you happy.”

“Jesus,” David huffed and brought the bottle back to his lips. “Seriously, Gillian. Sometimes I have trouble figuring out if this is just you being overly dramatic or insecure. I mean, it doesn’t matter in the end, but damn... something has to change. You can’t keep running away from me when things get complicated.”

“I know.”

“Do you? I’m not so sure about that, to be honest.”

“It’s not as easy as you think, you know,” she raised her voice in defense, eyebrows now furrowed tightly.

“I know it isn’t. But Gillian, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think I gave you a lot of opportunities to calm down and talk to me even after you accused me of wanting to make you feel even worse than you already did. And sometime between that and the point you left for London and wouldn’t call for days, I expected you to… I can’t say it any differently, I’m sorry… but I expected you to get back to your senses, to be honest. Because that was one fucked up stunt you pulled there.”

“Yeah, I realize that,” she said remorsefully. “And I’m so scared to fuck this up and lose you,” she said quietly, her voice a mixture of desperation and resignation. “Again.”

He licked over his lips and swallowed before looking at her leg and putting his hand on her knee. He gave it an affectionate squeeze. “Gill-”

“This is what happens all the time, right? Me fucking things up. It’s that… damned self-destructiveness of mine. Making everyone’s lives more complicated and putting a strain on my relationships because… yeah, why? I don’t even know myself! Because of my ego? My anxiety? Because of not having enough faith in things?”

David shook his head slowly and raised his left leg out of the water to put it behind her. He was facing her now, and she also shifted so they could look at one another. His hand came to a rest on her upper thigh. “I can’t tell you what it is, Gillian. But you need to figure it out, or find someone to help you figure it out. Of course I’m hurt and confused. But it’s-” he took a deep breath, “It’s hard to see that the person you love tends to fight alone.”

“I know,” she murmured. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes and she let out a shaky breath.

“And it’s you who suffers the most in the end.”

Gillian nodded thoughtfully, averting her gaze, and he watched her silently for a moment before he spoke again. “I learned that I don’t need a lot to be happy, but you-” he reached up and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, never breaking eye-contact, literally forcing her to keep her eyes on him. “You are the most essential part to my happiness. I don’t want to imagine my world without the kids, but you are my foundation; my base. You’ve been for over twenty years. I know it’s hard; but we knew it would be that way when you got pregnant. And we agreed to be there for each other. That’s what we wanted. And I am here.”

“Yes, you’re here,” she leaned into his touch, and a single tear escaped her eye. He was the sweetest man, the most reliable partner, and it angered her that she was this emotional, unstable mess. She had no reason to cry but out of gratitude, yet she cried out of fear. Fear that she wouldn’t be able to be the woman she needed to be to make this relationship work. To make a marriage work.

As if he was able to read her thoughts, he took her hands in his and brought them to his lips, peppering them with soft kisses before saying, “Separation hasn’t even crossed my mind, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered, sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and smiled.

“We will figure it out together, but you need to let people help you, babe.” His arms came around her shoulder and waist, pulling her into a tight hug. Burying her nose into his soft shirt, she inhaled the masculine, rich scent of his as if it had been years she’d smelled it last.

“We’ve got this,” he kissed the top of her head and inhaled deeply. “Even with the bad sex and all,” he joked, and her whole body was shaking as she let out a muffled laugh against his shirt.

Her fingers found their way under his shirt, and ever so lightly, she started to run her fingers over the smooth skin of his back. He jolted under her touch, and she giggled quietly at his ticklishness while moving her flat hands up higher, pressing him closer against her. He was warm and soft, and she had craved touching him so badly in the last couple of days when she was laying in bed, alone.

His hands moved from her back to her arms and up to her face, cradling her cheek in his palms and gently lifting her head from his chest. He was wearing that soft, dreamy smile of his - the one that was capable of melting thousands of hearts.

It faded only for the briefest of seconds before he was there, kissing her, slowly and tentatively.

Her belly tingled fiercely, and she let out a soft whimper when she felt his tongue boldly seeking entrance and grazing over hers. His fingertips started to do these wonderful things on the sensitive skin of her throat and down to her neck - circling and tugging, again and again as their kiss intensified rapidly. Hungry lips clinging to one another, only letting go to change the angle, to explore again what had been explored so many times before, but would never get old.

It had always been a thin line between fighting, reconciliation and sex for them. They were good in fighting fiercely, and even better at sex. The part in between had always been a small one, but they’d become better at it over time while the fighting had gotten more civilised, and the sex mind blowing. It had taken Gillian a long time to understand this logic and that it was a part of growing up and finally being in a healthy relationship rather than a toxic one.

His hands had travelled down to her hips and under her top when she realized that her own were busy unbuttoning his shirt, as if they had a mind of their own. It fell from his shoulders just seconds later, and her lips were drawn to the sun-kissed skin of his chest like magnet to metal. He tasted rich and salty, and she could feel goosebumps rising underneath her mouth as she kissed and nipped her way up to his neck. The vibration of his low growl tickled her lips, and she smiled against his skin as he bunched up the hem of her top underneath her arms, gently urging her to raise them over her head.

Her hips jerked forward when his lips closed around her engorged nipple. Jolts of pleasure were running straight from her tit down to her already throbbing clit. How on earth his kisses alone were capable of doing that to her, she still didn’t know.

He held firmly onto her waist, keeping her still while she was starting to squirm under his touch. All her senses were on high alert, and the sounds his mouth made as he sucked, licked and nibbled on her were so unbelievably arousing, she wanted nothing more than for him to move down, where she was waiting for him, all slick and swollen.

He suddenly hummed, as if she’d said something, and pulled her over and onto his lap in one swift motion. Her skirt wasn’t tight or uncomfortable for either of them, but he seemed to want to get rid of it nonetheless, and helped her into a standing position.

As she stood up, he put his arms around her legs, stroking up and down their length while smiling up at her. His eyes were dark with lust, lips moist and pink and expression smug as fuck. She couldn’t possibly love him more.

She shimmied out of her airy skirt and kicked it aside, leaving on a tiny black string that caught his attention immediately.

He licked his lips and swallowed. Oh this woman with her milky white, velvet thighs. He could live the rest of his life with his head in between their softness while gently, or not so gently, squeezing their outer sides with his hands. His hands always needed to be occupied.

As did hers, apparently.  

She ran her fingers slowly between the valley of her firm tits down to her navel, circling it languidly before wandering down further, tracing the hem of her panties with her fingertips, knowing exactly what touching herself did to him.

He clenched his jaw when her hand disappeared beneath the soft fabric and his breath quickened, nostrils flaring as he inhaled the scent of her need. He was fully concentrated on her, and the thin material didn’t leave much to the imagination so that he could see exactly what she was doing with her tiny hand on her perfect little pussy.

She gasped as her fingers came in contact with her clit, and the other hand shot out to steady herself on his shoulder. He grinned and turned his head to the side to kiss her wrist, eyes never leaving her flushed face. He couldn’t begin to explain how gorgeous she looked with her lips slightly apart, chest rising and falling rapidly as she increased the speed of her hand, knees starting to wobble.

“Oh god,” she gasped, digging her nails into his flesh. “I can’t-”

“Yeah,” he said, knowing that she wasn’t able to stand up much longer, and leaned forward, pressing a kiss onto her navel while she slowly removed her hand from between her legs.

“You smell delicious,” he whispered and took her hand by the wrist, looking up at her as he slowly closed his lips around two slick fingers. “Hmm,” he hummed and released them with a loud plop. “You taste like heaven. So sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, hooking his index fingers under the thin straps of her panties, slowly pulling them down.

Her hand reached back down right away, tentatively at first, but then one finger disappeared wholly inside, and she started to buck into her own hand.

“Jesus, babe. You’re so fucking hot.” His own hand slid into his shorts, finding his dick thick and ready, pulsating and waiting desperately for attention. He started with slow, languid strokes, barely any pressure, just a little something to take off the edge. He reached up and palmed her right breast, squeezing it firmly before starting to roll her nipple between his thumb and index finger.

Her eyes caught sight of his busy hand and she whimpered before it grew into a proper moan as her clit hit this wonderful spot on her palm that almost made her tumble over the edge for a second. She slumped forward against his body, his face now against her belly, surprising her by biting and licking at her soft flesh hungrily. She let him for a bit, ran her fingers through his hair, watching him leaving wet spots and red marks on her stomach.

Suddenly, she pulled him away from her. Her patience was gone. No matter how good it felt, she needed him now, and let him know by pushing at his chest so that he landed back on his elbows. He chuckled in delight and raised his hips as her fingers tucked at his shorts, not wasting any time anymore, finally freeing him.

The twitch of his cock as Gillian’s eyes fell on it didn’t go unnoticed, and she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and smiled one of the slyest smiles he’d ever seen. It made him harden even a little more.

He welcomed her in his lap by putting his arms around her slim waist and pulling her close, kissing her.

This felt so, so right. All of it - her warm body flush against his, his pulsating dick nestled in her hot slit, tongues playing their exciting game. This woman was his undoing in the best ways possible.

David yelped in surprise as he suddenly found himself in her hand. Her grip was much firmer than his own, of course. She knew him better than he knew himself after all. She stroked him with purpose, slowing only to circle the tip of his penis with her thumb before squeezing it in her palm and starting to rub only the shaft, and his efforts to stay still died with an involuntary buck into her hand.

When the head of his cock dipped into her wetness, both of them gasped and quickly looked at one another before falling into soft laughter.

“I love the fuck out of you, you have no idea,” he said genuinely as she sank down onto him; soft, tight walls suddenly surrounding him wholly.

“Hmm,” Gillian raised her right eyebrow, smiling smugly at him. “I fucking love your cock,” she said, starting to rotate her hips.

“You fucking love my cock or you love fucking my cock?”

“Where’s the difference? I miss it when it’s not in me,” she slurred and closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensation of her slow movements.

David grinned and squeezed her thighs. “I can assure you that it misses you too.”

“Ohhh,” she moaned and squeezed her muscles around him.

“Yeah…” he breathed, holding onto her hips as her arms came around his neck and breasts were shoved into his face.

Her movements were becoming frantic as the hot puffs of air coming out of her mouth were wettening his forehead. She was completely uninhibited now, grinding her clit against his pelvis, moaning and whimpering loudly as her release came closer and closer.

“Do you ever miss my pussy?” she shifted in his lap and looked at him. Her movements had come to a stop, only her inner muscles were working, milking him with every squeeze.

“Hell yeah,” David rasped and his balls tightened dangerously. “Every day, every hour, every minute-” he groaned as she dropped her head into the crease of his neck and bit his throat, “Every second… I cannot kiss it, lick it, fuck it... I miss it.”

“Then fuck it now,” she said and lifted her head off his shoulder. “Fuck me, David.”

“Jesus Christ,” he growled and wrapped his arm around her waist.

She’d expected him to turn them both around and settle back in between her legs, but instead, he lifted her to the side so that she ended up sitting on her knees beside him. He came up behind her and pushed her forward so he wouldn’t fall into the pool before bending over her and licking along the line of her spine.

Her body shivered under him. Every nerve ending from her toes up to her head felt like it was on fire, and everything was tingling.

She almost screamed out loud when he entered her from behind, slamming his his hips against her ass while at the same time, biting into the side of her neck.

Her arms were suddenly so weak that she had to brace herself on her elbows, and he placed a last couple of kisses on her shoulder blade before thrusting into her hard and fast.

His fingers were almost painfully digging into her sides, and somewhere in the back of her mind Gillian realized that she would be a sore, walking bruise tomorrow. They both would.

His arm snuck around her middle and suddenly, his fingers were on her swollen clit, pressing, rubbing and pinching and fuck, it felt so good. So unbelievably good.

“Fuck you’re so tight. Feels so good,” he whispered into her neck.

He was everywhere, his large body surrounding hers completely. Even after all these years she couldn’t believe that they were such a good match, with him being so big and her being so tiny. But nothing had ever been more perfect than this.

“David,” she whimpered as his fingers became quicker and her walls began to flutter around him. It was only a matter of seconds before, before… she moaned, and her legs started to shake violently, almost giving up on her if his grip hadn’t been so strong.

“You’re coming, babe,” he grunted, giving her a few quick, hard thrusts and removing his fingers from her clit to press them into her lower belly right above her mons.

“Fu-huck!” she cried out loud as her orgasm hit her forcefully, and the last thing she remembered was the feeling of his hot semen spilling into her before everything went black.

His face was right above hers when she came back to herself. Her heart was still beating rapidly in her chest, but she was laying on her back now.

“Did I just faint during orgasm?” she asked confused, but relaxed immediately when he grinned at her.

“No, not really. You kept talking to me, even if it was just “O's” and “I’s”. But your muscles gave out,” he said and lay down beside her, cradling her close against his chest.

“What did you do with your hand?”

He grinned. “You liked it?”

“It almost killed me!”

“Nah, I doubt that,” he whispered and nuzzled his nose against hers. “Glad to see it works for you, though.”

“Fuck, David. My legs are still shaking.”

“Yep, they are. Are you okay?” he asked softly, his genuine concern making her smile.  

Gillian nodded and closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his warm hands slowly roaming over her back. “Yes. But I have to tell you” she murmured and met his gaze again. She cupped his chin between her fingers and drew him closer to her face before whispering, “If we ever get a divorce, it’s definitely because of the bad sex.”

Both of them were chuckling quietly as she captured his lips for a soft, passionate kiss.

[persorene]

Could I request some Jokamu? I really enjoyed your yandere Jakob prompt fic, I was wondering if I could ask for more of that? I hope tomorrow is better for you!

"Jakob, wake up." the old man shook the butler's shoulders roughly "Jakob. Up." he growled."Ungh, what? What do you want?" he sat up in bed, running his hands over his tired eyes and through his loose mass of hair."I've spotted intruders in the gardens." Gunter snapped."Well, that won't do." Jakob whispered, suddenly more awake "I'll check on Lady Corrin and then I'll remove the issue.""Would you like help?""I won't need it." he smirked as he stood up from his bed. The butler hastily dressed and attached his holster of daggers to his thigh. "I'll be back soon, old man."Jakob crept silently through the halls, pausing at his master's door, he stood still in the darkness, listening intently for any sign of distress. No sound met his ears, worry crawled through his being, his princess was a relatively noisy sleeper. He gently opened her door, being careful not to draw a creek from the old hinges in case she was asleep. Her room was bathed in the dancing light of a candle, the princess lay half propped up in her bed, a book open in her lap. Her crimson eyes drifted to the doorway, searching her butler. "Is something wrong?" she asked softly, though he always checked on her through the night, he was usually in bed by this hour.He smiled warmly at her, stepping closer to her bed. "No, of course not, my princess.""But, you're fully dressed and it has to be the early hours of the morning.""I assure you all is well." he fluffed her pillow gently and arranged it more comfortably behind her "Now, get some rest, I'll wake you in the morning.""Goodnight, Jakob." she smiled at him, sending his heart aflutter as only she could."Goodnight, princess. Sweet dreams." he muttered as he exited her room.--------------------------------------------------------------------Jakob stepped into the garden, the cool breeze sent his hair fluttering around his face. He stood still, bathed in the moonlight, listening for any sign of an intruder. The snap of a branch drew his attention to a cluster of shrubberies and flowering trees. A devious smirk twisted his lips upward, the butler slowly walked forward, the rage in the pit of his stomach was swirling and growing more intense."You seem to be lost." he spat into the darkness "For you see, this is my home, my master's home. We had not been expecting guests." he laughed softly as the dark outline of a man darted from the path and into the wall of greenery lining it."You appear to be under the impression that you can hide from me. But this is my territory. I will find you, and you will regret ever stepping foot in this place."Jakob strode slowly down the path, his boots landing with menacing thuds as he moved. His job was to handle to intruders, but no one said he couldn't have a bit of fun while he did so. The butler intentionally walked past the point in the brush that he knew the man was hiding in, waiting until the intruder breathed a soft sigh of relief.At the sound of his breath, Jakob spun on his heels, his arms delving into the leaves as his long fingers wrapping around the man's shoulders. In one swift movement, he'd thrown the man on the ground and pinned him down, straddling the man's chest. The butler grinned viciously as he pressed the tip of a dagger into the hollow of the intruder's throat, drawing a trickle of blood to the surface."Pl-please don't kill me." the man sputtered, he was Hoshidan, yet another attempt to steal the princess housed in the walls of the fortress.Jakob grimaced, pressing ever so slightly harder on the blade "But you wanted to kill her, didn't you?"The Hoshidan shook his head "No, no we had no intentions of killing her!""We? How many of you are there?""I won't tell you!" He growled, wiggling his chest in a vain effort to escape the surprisingly strong butler."Oh, I think you will." he chortled, plunging the tip of the blade barely into the man's throat.The kidnapper gurgled as his air supply was cut off momentarily "Okay, okay, stop and I'll tell you!""No, you'll tell me, then I'll move the blade.""How do I know you won't kill me when you get the information you want?""You have the nerve, the audacity, to come into my home, try to steal my master and then question me?" Jakob snarled "You're making all the wrong decisions should you ever wish to the light of day again. I don't need your answer. I can and will end you and find your companions myself.""You're insane!""No I'm not, and let me make this abundantly clear, I do not like to kill. However, the princess is very precious to me. Any threat to her will be handled swiftly. You are a threat. You have your options, either you tell me how many of you there are and I might allow you to live, or you don't tell me and I end your life here and now and then find your companions and do the same to them." His captive twisted under the blade again, desperately trying to escape."I wouldn't struggle if I were you. You'll only kill yourself faster." The Hoshidan tried once more, hissing as he felt the sharp edge coming ever closer to the vital veins barely protected by his flesh "Two." He growled "There are two of us. Myself and one other. I- I don't know where he's hiding. Now, please, let me go."Jakob smiled, lightly patting the kidnapper's cheek "Good man. As I said before, I don't enjoy killing and it upsets my princess so deeply when I do it, therefore, you are free." He lifted the dagger slowly "But, you will get up, you will turn, and you will run. If you are stupid enough to come back or attempt to save your companion, you will regret it with every fiber of your being should I allow you to live long enough to feel regret. Am I understood?"The man nodded."Well then, I think you and I can part for now." Jakob stood quickly. As soon as his weight was removed from the Hoshidan captive, he stood and darted into the night.  The butler turned, scanning the courtyard for the accomplice. His keen eyes fixated on a quivering shadow on one of the lower rooves. With alarming skill, he hurled a dagger into the darkness. It landed its hit with a resounding thud, the ninja growled in pain as he hit the ground below, clutching his calf where the blade was stuck. Jakob sprinted across the stone, hovering over the man and watching as he writhed in agony. "You were on the roof. I can only assume that means your friend was a decoy, meant to distract me as you made your way to my master."The Hoshidan couldn't respond, his mind was reeling from the pain, his fingers were dyed a stark red from his own blood."I let him go. I see now that was a mistake. Unfortunately, someone has to be held responsible for this intrusion. Certainly you understand." Jakob smirked, crouching down over the hapless man, his lips mere inches from his ear "I believe you have something of mine." He whispered. The butler reached his hand to the man's leg, firmly gripping the hilt of the blade, he viciously, slowly twisted the dagger, carving into the man's leg as he pulled it out. The Hoshidan lay screaming, gripping the new hole in his calf. His screams drew the attention of his comrade, he turned from his place on the path. He would have only one chance, any failure would cost him greatly. The ninja raised one hand, aiming the blade of a shuriken toward the demonic butler. In a swift throw, he hurled the projectile, praying it hit the Nohrian in a vital location. A dull sound met his ears, he had missed. The blade had only cut the man's shoulder.Jakob looked to gis bleeding shoulder and spun on his heels, running in a full sprint toward the man he'd shown mercy to. Before he had time to escape, Jakob had him thrown to the ground "I thought I had been clear. I thought we had  an agreement. Did I not say that you would regret any behaviour like this?" The hoshidan lay silently, awaiting his fate, whatever the dandy decided that may be."You will count yourself lucky. Being the merciful man that I am, your life will be spared. You owe me a thank you."The first ninja said nothing, glaring at his tormentor."I'm sorry? Perhaps this isn't the way you do it in Hoshido but in Nohr, if someone soares your life twice. TWICE. After you broke into their home in an attempt to kidnap a member of royalty, you say thank you.""Thank you." He growled."There now, that wasn't hard. But, this will be. I can't let you leave here unpunished. It just wouldn't make much sense. You came to my home, you tried to take my princess, you tried to distract me so your friend could take my princess. Now, your friend has a pretty serious leg wound, maybe with a bad leg I won't have to worry about him scaling my rooves at night. But don't worry! You'll get a parting gift as well."Jakob crouched down, placing the tip of his dagger against the man's forehead. He shivered as the cold metal met his flesh. With surgical precision, the butler carved two deep lines into the ninja's forehead, forming an X in the center, directly above his eyes. "Now if I ever see you again, and hopefully I won't, I'll know you wasted both your first and your last chance. Next time I'll take your life. Oh, and for good measure-" he swiftly plunged the blade into the man's thigh "Have fun hobbling home."-------------------------------------------------------------------"Goodmorning princess, I trust you slept soundly." Jakob smiled warmly, setting up her tray perfectly and arranging the vase of flowers he'd picked for her."I did!" She grinned as she lifted her fork "Did you ever go to bed last night? You checked on me so late.""Oh, don't worry about me, my princess, just a bit of work that needed dealt with." His heart ached just looking at her, each attempt to take her away only made him realize how very much she meant to him. Jakob hissed in pain as he lifted his right arm to open her curtains, the wound on his shoulder was worse than he'd originally thought but he would take any pain for her."Jakob are you hurt? What happened." Corrin suddenly hopped from her bed, crossing the floor to be at his side."I'm fine, Lady Corrin. I just pulled it last night while I was finishing up my work.""You silly thing. You do far too much for me, I'm so lucky to have you. I know I don't say it enough but I appreciate how hard you work for me. You're the best friend I could ever have.""Oh, milady, that means more to me than you could ever know."

[lymeandanxiety]

A pandemic was the worst time to start a new, intense treatment for my chronic illnesses.

I started the treatment a little over a month before the pandemic started. I’m immunocompromised so my boss was wonderful enough to understand I needed to stay home, and I was one of the first to be furloughed.

I considered calling my LLMD and asking to be put back on antibiotics, especially since the GI issues caused by the medication had already started, but I heard so many great things about this medication and the results that have happened for people that I felt I NEEDED to keep going. 3 years of treatment and I would do anything to be done. So I stayed on it.

Anxiety started in April “well, we’re in a pandemic” I thought. “And this month two of my friends have died, one of Covid. Anxiety makes sense”.

I was called to come back to work. I was excited, then that turned to paralyzing fear and I didn’t go. “Am I lazy? Do I just not want to go back to work?” I thought. “We’re in a pandemic and I’m immunocompromised. Anxiety surrounding this makes sense”

I started getting scared of everything. I was doing online promotions for a LARP that I’m on staff for. Those suddenly scared the hell out of me, despite enjoying the twitch streams. “You always feel like you’re inferior to them. You’re new to this and you’re afraid they all see you as a burden, you’ve always felt this way. It’s normal.” I thought

At one point I had a bout of paranoia that my partner had been manipulating me all this time. My partner who had been nothing but supportive. Nothing happened, just all of a sudden one night I was terrified that I was falling for some kind of huge con that he pulled me into.

In June, I started worrying everyone thought I was a horrible person for not doing enough to help others. I avoided social media entirely. The only times I went on I later realized was a form of self harm. I would be in a low, low place and the mindset was subconsciously “look at all these things you need to be doing. That you should be doing. That you want to be doing. You have always been someone who wanted to help others, here’s your chance, and you’re failing at it. Worthless.”

Everyone is busy during this quarantine. Trying to keep their lives together, trying to keep some sense of normalcy. But any time someone didn’t respond to me, I thought they hated me. Even my closest friend I was sure was completely done with me. I was leaning on my partner more than ever, feeling horrible every time I did, just waiting for the moment he said it was enough and he wanted to leave me.

Sometime mid June I finally said those four words I hadn’t even been close to saying for two years, but were so familiar to me before I started treating the Bartonella infection; “I want to die”. Those words made me realize something. Not that I needed help, I wasn’t there yet, but it made me realize something weird was going on.

I had been varying degrees of suicidal since I was 12. I thought it had peaked in 2016, when that happened, I went to a neurologist to force them to give me an MRI. I say forced because they didn’t see any reason to based on the psychological symptoms I was telling them. “Psychology and Neurology are completely separate” they said. It was only when they noticed a completely unrelated delay in my left side that they decided to get me the MRI.

That’s a story for another time.

My suicidal thoughts actually hit their peak in 2018, a year after being diagnosed with Lyme. That’s when I got diagnosed with Bartonella, and after a few months of treating that, my anxiety started to wane. I was able to get off of all psych meds. As recently as this past February I was still in a place where I couldn’t even fathom being back in the “I want to die” mindset.

So when I said those words for the first time in June, I knew something weird was going on. I should have realized it when I became afraid of my friends, I should have realized it when I thought my fiancé had been manipulating me all this time, I should have realized it when things that I could always look at objectively and distance myself from, I suddenly started fearing and being paranoid that everyone I cared about hated me. But no. It wasn’t until I uttered those four words that I realized something was going on.

So I called my doctor and asked to be put on something specifically for Bartonella. A month later things were slightly better, but I was still dealing with the “I want to die” mantra.

Last week, my doctor finally suggested it could be the revolutionary new medicine’s fault. So she took me off of that. It wasn’t until after I stopped that I found out that medication can cause your body to retain excess copper, which can screw up your hormones and thyroid. Well that explains the mood swings, hot flashes, acne, and month-long period despite having an IUD.

After stopping it, it was near instantaneous to see a difference. Until about five days later when all the fear, anxiety, panic, and suicidal ideation struck again.

That’s where I am now. My doctor wants me off of that medication for two weeks before we switch up anything else. I think Bartonella is still a big factor in this. It has to be. Everything I’m reading is saying the other medication doesn’t really work on Bartonella.

So now I’m here, wanting to die, having to wait another week to hopefully change my Bartonella medication to something stronger. All the while panicking that maybe this has nothing to do with the medication or illnesses. Maybe I’m just fragile and can’t handle the world right now.

I really hope that this is all due to physical illnesses... and I hope I don’t come out of this with trauma. Current Events are too important for me to have trauma and triggers surrounding it...

[gamelyplanet-blog]

Cuphead, “casual” modes and hypocrites

I don’t want to spend too much time on this, so I’ll just rant a bit about the recent nontroversy around the indie title “Cuphead”. This is off-the-cuff, blog post stuff, with minimal editing. You’ve been warned.

So, Cuphead, the charming 2D shooter that impressed everyone with its retro-cartoon presentation during E3 2017, has somehow become the center of discussion regarding difficulty in games and the value of design vs accessibility.

Or so games media claim, because make no mistake, before I write down anything else; the only reason the usual suspects opened their mouths to shit out the usual pseudo-intellectual, arrogant drivel is because this entire thing started when the Internet got wind of one journalist, Dean Takahashi of GamesBeat, having trouble with the tutorial of Cuphead during the last Tokyo Game Show.

Let’s also get this out of the way: Dean, dude, I don’t know you. I dislike what passes for games journalism these days, but I’ve never read your stuff or heard of you before. The mockery towards you for that Cuphead footage was, as far as I’m concerned, unwarranted. I don’t have the context to support or condemn you for it; it was during a con, it was an earlier build of the game, the footage looked a little pathetic, but I really don’t know. So, I didn’t say anything against you, but I’m sorry for the shit flung at you.

The problem is that the primary reason this shit even became an issue is that the representatives of games media and their indie hipster buddies started this years ago; and in the last few days, they seem hell-bent on widening the gap between media and gamers in the worst way possible. Blame GamerGate or whatever, but we all know the mocking of journalists’ gaming skills became popular when Polygon posted that pathetic footage of their playing 2016′s DOOM and failing spectacularly at what’s a very basic shooter.

It wasn’t on a whim, either; we’re talking about an entire part of the industry that for years pretended to be an authority on video games; they talked *over* their audience, they talked *down* to their audience, they mocked, they demeaned, they insulted their audience; because they thought they “knew better”. Nobody would’ve really paid any attention to Polygon’s DOOM footage and all that it represented, if Polygon wasn’t a publication that gave “Tropico 5″ a 6.5 by first prefacing the score with the claim a city-builder game should’ve included commentary on dictators and banana republics and authoritative regimes. Nobody would’ve care about Polygon’s DOOM footage (nobody would’ve even seen it, really), if a few years back Arthur Gies hadn’t literally body-shamed 2.5 points off of “Bayonetta 2″, fucking Platinum Games out of their bonus. Polygon are representative of the state of games media right now and they’re not the only ones.

No better proof of all this than how suddenly there are “editorials” on Rock Paper Shotgun and Polygon and Twitter threads by indie game devs that spend most of their time pretending they’re the bastions of intellectuality in game design, whenever they don’t spew shit at their annual circle-jerk that we refer to as the “Game Developers Conference”. John Walker of RPS, when commenting on “Assassins Creed: Origins” new “no-combat” mode, was quick to point out that gamers are hell-bent on maintaining the challenge of harder games, because they are exclusionary. Then, RPS published another article about Cuphead’s “Simple” mode (which prohibits the player from getting the true ending); oh, they were quick to note that it was “satire” toward sites like Kotaku, but any knowledge of RPS or Walker, a senior editor, raises questions to the validity of that claim. Then, Walker himself decided to challenge the term “gameplay” on Twitter because it’s a vague term, apparently never occurring to him that his criticism is pretty fucking vague in itself. Typical overcompensating with which games journalism is rife at the moment.

Rami Ismail, an indie developer who has yet to say a single thing that could be deemed correct or valuable to anyone outside his industry bubble, was quick to link that piece of shit editorial and argue for providing players with the freedom to play a game how they want. I must’ve missed that memo when the market was being flooded with third-rate crappy-looking pixel-art platformers and walking simulators. Suddenly “freedom” and “choice” matter.

Unless it’s the “Mass Effect 3″ ending; if you want choice to matter then, you’re just “entitled”.

Here’s the rub; there’s no discussion to be had. This isn’t an interesting topic or a new discovery for games development. This is as old as gaming itself. Player freedom exists within the developer’s freedom. Player agency is a component of game design, not a handicap. When someone makes a game, they don’t feed data into a generator and then the machine farts out a complete project. Every weapon, tool, and slope or bottomless pit in a level have been designed to complement each other. Difficulty options aren’t bad; quite the contrary. But they’re limited and they can harm the game’s artistic vision irreparably. Do you have any idea how many games I played and found boring on easy mode years ago, only to return and really appreciate them now that I’ve improved? That’s why Walker got shat on for his challenging the term gameplay; his criticism was off-base. The art in games is in the mechanics. Gut the mechanics and the art is degraded to popcorn shit.

Difficulty isn’t just challenge and it’s not just a means to frustrate the player; it’s a tool and it’s a component a lot of the time. The better developers know how to use it to the game’s benefit. It’s also something that’s an umbrella term; what’s difficult for one person and what’s acceptable in terms of challenge differs for someone else. Yes, I’m kind of bumped out I cannot play the Souls series; it seems like it has very interesting combat mechanics, but sparse checkpoints are a no-no for me. I’ll take any challenge you throw at me, but don’t make me retry the same thirty minutes of game all the time. Should I send an angry letter at FromSoftware for not neutering their game for my benefit? I wager those checkpoints are integral to the Souls experience; so, they can stay and I can fuck off to Twitch to watch a stream about it.

Accessibility, for that is the right word and not “inclusion”, is a moot point in this day and age. There are many games to choose from, in different genres, from different developers. There are countless people talking about them and about as many streaming them. The consumer is instantly and easily informed about the specifics and they can make an informed purchase. The notion of being “owed” game progression because you bought the game is ridiculous. Am I owed my money back for not liking that new cocktail I decided to order? Am I owed to see my team win the Champions League (google it Yanks), because I paid for a season pass?

Going back to Walker, after the butthurt for being challenged on his idiotic remarks regarding gameplay, he tweeted that he’s only trying to make gaming accessible. The problem is that gaming, as a whole, is extremely accessible; more now than ever before. All you need to do is download a free game on your phone and lo and behold; access. If you want something more serious, have a look at the simplified, free-to-play MMOs, some even published by AAA companies. The point is, there is not even an admission price to gaming anymore. One niche game for one niche audience isn’t going to turn people away from gaming. What the fuck are you even talking about, John? Nobody in the history of gaming has suggested all games should be Cuphead or Dark Souls. All they suggest is that we make whatever we want and choose what suits us best. You keep raving like a lunatic about “gaming culture” and “toxicity” and “gate keeping” and you’re the only assholes out there to consistently shout, pull rank and cause problems. You are professional trouble-makers, John!

What is fitting is that Ubisoft did indeed announce they intend to add a “skip combat” option in the upcoming “Assassins Creed: Origins”. Is that a good option? I honestly can’t tell, because I’m not familiar with the AC games. I’ve never played one, so I lack the context. If the Assassins Creed games provide a semblance of engaging gameplay by skipping combat, i.e. if exploration is as integral to the AssCreed experience as combat is, then it’s an acceptable compromise. After all, even Minecraft has a casual mode, because hiding from Creepers isn’t the point of that game; mining resources and building shit is.

When the indie portion of the industry started making its mark, we were all delighted; more choice, more games, more space for original ideas and variety, away from the boundaries of AAA publishers. But now, no; now we have a social issue in our hands, now we’re talking about how making the game you want is a matter of “culture” and it’s a discussion that we surprisingly never had before, not even when shitty Twine text apps somehow made it to Steam. Curious that.

“Inclusion” has been the industry standard since at least the days of the original Playstation, when gaming went truly mainstream and turned into a ridiculously profitable industry. The alternative is bad business. There is a reason we now have context-sensitive UIs for everything and why there are more tutorial messages than there are lines of dialogue in so many AAA titles; they want their games sold to and played by as wide an audience as possible. The indies can do something different.

What’s really getting on my nerves in all of this is the hypocrisy; Souls? Fine. Super Meatboy? Fine. Megaman 9? Fine. Bloodborne? Fine. So many hard games, but no, now it’s a “discussion” because a bunch of self-involved writers decided to shit-talk gamers and developers alike for clicks. Again. Fuck, even these very outlets reviewed Cuphead well; but then they found the chance to latch on to a bunch of innocuous tweet and demean their audience again, because presumably their traffic went down. Again. Alas, playing video games isn’t a social issue. The bullshit presentations at GDC that tell you you have a social responsibility when designing video games are lying to you. If you’re a journalist, nobody owes you shit. Do your market research before you buy and let people create and enjoy whatever the hell they want.

Walker’s “Skip Button” word vomit on AssCreed

RPS’ “satire” article on Cuphead

Ben Kuchera’s desperate effort to publish something without saying anything, but only citing what others said, on Polygon