#i developed this new anxiety side effect last year after Everything

[kimmkitsuragi]

im so soso anxious all the time recently lmfaooo dont hold me accountable for anything rn

[dwarf-hat-enjoyer]

I meant to ask yesterday, but how ab some touch starved Harvey head cannons? <3

🤝Touch-Starved Harvey🤝

synopsis: Exactly what it says on the tin <3 Our favorite town doctor craves physical intimacy more than he knows. Headcanons+drabble of how he copes with it, how he reacts to physical contact, and a bonus of how he reacts to receiving physical affection! gn!Farmer, romance. SFW.

w.c.: 1.7k words!

content warnings: None!

A.N.: BABY'S FIRST REQUEST! Thank you so much :,) Highkey this was super enjoyable for me to write and I'm REALLY happy that you liked my other post enough to pop in!!! Enjoy &lt;3

Before the farmer, before befriending Maru and assimilating into his role as the meek and respectful town doctor, he had always been rather avoidant to initiating casual physical contact. Everything he gave, everything he received- it all ranged from polite social expectancies to standard work-related procedures. He didn't think much of it. Having always been a more anxious type, the possibility of making another uncomfortable was always on his mind in these interactions, and what better way to avoid such a thing than to not have it at all? Handshakes and the occasional stiff hug were enough for him. Unfortunately, this proved to be a bit of an oversight on his end, considering the side-effects it would provide.

By the time the farmer arrives, his chronic loneliness has very much caught up with him. Not only has he distanced himself physically from others around him, but mentally as well. Outside of his clinic, the way Harvey's been so avoidant to touch has turned it into a source of anxiety for him. His self-consciousness extends to this field as well- when Granny Evelyn beckons him to lean down for a hug after he's finished his house visit to George, he worries that he's hugged her too tightly or for too long in the very back of his mind. Even the handshake exchanged with the governor at the last year's Luau haunts his memory, with the constant niggling thought that he hadn't been firm enough.

And don't get this man started on his non-existent romantic life. Moving to such a small town those few years ago, he knew that prospects like that would be limited, to say the very least. Many of the eligible singles in town, as lovely as they were, were...well, not exactly his type. And even those that were, how could a guy like him ever manage anything with anyone? The thought of being forward or flirtatious in any way practically gave him hives. But the idea of having someone to be close to, physically and emotionally...He couldn't say that he didn't crave that. But all in all, he wholeheartedly believed that it wasn't in the cards for him and his touch-starved ways.

Enter the farmer. They were just another patient to Harvey in the beginning, another member of the town for him to look after. He didn't pay much attention when they touched him or when he touched them, aside from his ordinary overthinking. He couldn't afford to think too deeply about, really. He was their doctor, for Yoba's sake, and whether it was a friendly punch in the arm or a simple tap on the shoulder to get his attention, it would be highly unprofessional to dwell on. Besides, the mystique of being new in town and charmingly single was sure to draw them quite a few pairs of eyes, anyway. How could he compete?

Well...He definitely began thinking about that. Time marched forward as time does, and an unexpected friendship began to blossom. Harvey being Harvey, it was hard for him to recognize his developing feelings at first. Their gestures became more frequent, and his heart swelled with each one. Whether it be grabbing his wrist to drag him to see their chickens or a grateful hug for patching them up after a night in the mines, it lingered in his mind longer than it should have. When the day came that he idly pondered asking them to the coming year's Flower Dance, it all suddenly became clear to him: He'd fallen. And he'd fallen hard.

Everything suddenly became so much more meaningful. The coffee and pickles they'd frequently brought him, fresh from their farm. When he caught them looking at him and only him among the faces of a festival crowd, was that a sign? Did they think about him as often as he thought about them? Did they think about his touch the way he thought about theirs? With all these thoughts swirling about in his head, he would suddenly become much more reserved around the farmer, quiet and flustered as if a single word could shatter the friendship they'd so carefully cultivated already.

Eventually, something would have to be said about his behavior. This is Harvey, after all- and even if it weren't, who in their right mind would suddenly clam up the way he did for no good reason?

Clamming up...Was that what he was doing? Harvey sighed to himself as he took in the early summer atmosphere. He brushed his knuckle over the surface of the fountain's water, sitting contemplatively at its edge. It was on days like these where he wished he had the confidence and sense to dress down a little rather than sweltering away in his slacks and button-up shirt, but there were other things on his mind. The sweat on his brow was the least of his concern. How could it be anything else? He'd recently realized that it had been two or three weeks since he'd realized his feelings towards the farmer, after all- which marked two or three weeks since his overthinking was pushed into overdrive by every little moment between them. His mind wandered back to the early days of their friendship. When Harvey closed his eyes envisioned his feelings, true to his bookish personality, he saw a graph. With every little moment between them, the line grew bit by bit until it became positively exponential. The way the farmer aided him at George's check-up was the first incident he could recall. When George, being every bit the stubborn old man he was at first glance, chastised Harvey for his advice, their sudden appearance ended up making the appointment much less of a headache than he expected. Their own appointment went a similar route, with them being one of his easier patients. It went as smoothly as it could have. Harvey had nearly forgotten the incident, but their pulse stuck out in the otherwise unremarkable memory. They were a farmer, for Yoba's sake. They had a business to run, physical labor to attend to and an entire town to entertain to keep themself afloat both financially and socially. Any other doctor wouldn't've thought twice about it and simply moved on with their day. Any other doctor wouldn't've fallen this hard for a patient, he reminded himself grimly. "Hey, Harvey!" In an instant, his thoughtful silence shattered like an egg thrown at the mountainside at the sound of the familiar voice. They'd sought him out. Did he really mean that much to them? Damn it all, doctor, don't get your hopes up! The contents of the farmer's backpack rustled and clanged with every step as they trotted up to him. With a proud grin on their face, they held out their hand expectantly, a small something clutched in their fist. "Oh. Erm...Hi. How are you today?" Harvey asked politely. The farmer blinked, then smiled warmly. "I'm doing alright. Just got back from the mines. Don't have a heart attack, I managed to find that purple mushroom you asked for at a level that wouldn't kill me." Harvey chuckled stiffly, reaching for the mushroom presented in their hand. Big, big mistake. It was a simple brush of their fingers. He hesitated to even call it a mere accident. They seemed so calm, despite the fact that he'd definitely lingered for a millisecond longer than he should have. In the moment, he cleared his throat awkwardly, preparing to apologize- "Harvey." "Ah, I'm sor- Yes?" he stammered, smiling in a way he prayed didn't seem nervous. "If you're going to apologize for touching me," the farmer began, gently yet firmly, "I'm gonna take that mushroom right back. You're squeezing that poor fungus to death, anyway." It was only at their words that he noticed his death grip on the mushroom. He opened his mouth to apologize anyway, but the farmer continued, "That's just something I noticed, you know? One, you've been super quiet with me lately, and two, every time we so much as brush up against each other when we do talk, you start tripping over your words and apologizing as if you just slapped me." "I know that you do get bouts of anxiety, but..." The farmer trailed off, "We're still friends, right?" Their question was genuine, concern-wrought and excruciatingly, painfully innocent. Harvey could hear their voice quieting as it left their lips- not accusatory, simply gentle and ready for whatever answer he'd give.

Harvey fumbled over his words before they'd even left his mouth. To explain himself would be to reveal the absolute fool he had been. Avoiding them for as long as he did would've only harmed their relationship, just as the farmer revealed had happened that moment. Of course they were worried. Of course they wondered whether or not he was mad at them. Of course they'd be hurt by the way he'd shied from every touch of theirs, all because he had made great towering mountains out of the littlest molehills. "Harvey…?" "It's complicated," he blurted out. The farmer's eyes widened as the words poured out of him. "I've tried to keep our relationship professional at first. After that, I- I thought it would be strictly platonic. I didn't even consider the fact that I would feel this way about you." "What do you mean 'this way?'" they prompted him gently. This farmer was going to kill him with how sweetly patient they were being. With a deep breath, he spat it out. "I'm interested in you. Romantically." What Harvey expected in that moment was a kind let-down. A small speech about how they value him as a friend, but can't see any sort of future with them. At worst, a sneer and a more curt rejection. They wouldn't be the type to laugh and mock him, this much he knew. What he hadn't expected was the smile pricking at their lips. Nor did he anticipate the way they reached softly for his hand and the electric joy that set every nerve in his body alight at their touch. It was all clear now. And damn, he truly was a fool to believe so deeply that they didn't feel the same. "Is that all, big guy?" … Oh, farmer. You'll be the death of this doctor yet.

~FIN~

[iamlivingmusic]

There are just an overwhelming number of posts under both the cyclothymia and quetiapine tags which bring me down. They're sad and hard, about medication not working, uncontrollable mood swings, depression, side effects, social deprivation.

So I thought I'd tell my story, for a little bit of hope.

To start - I am a 32 year old woman from Aotearoa New Zealand. The psych who diagnosed me with cyclothymia six months ago suggests that I've been experiencing symptoms for about 20 years - since puberty. I've been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, chronic fatigue and ADHD. None of these were correct.

Cyclothymia is a mood disorder in the same family as bi-polar. It means I experience depression and hypomania. My highs aren't as high and my lows aren't as low as bi-polar 1 or 2, and I'm on a shorter cycle - generally my depressive episodes last 2-4 weeks, and mania 2-5 days. There is nothing else, just the rollercoaster.

I take 250mg of quetiapine each evening for two reasons. First to even out those mood swings. My depression becomes closer to even keel, and on top of the medication can be managed by actions - fresh food, fresh air, time with people I love, routines to make it easier to get out of bed and maintain a hygiene routine. My mania is less effected, but the most important thing for me is that I'm aware that I'm manic - it makes it much easier to ensure I don't over-commit myself (which screws me over when the fog descends).

The second reason I medicate is the long term impact of unmanaged cyclothymia. In this sense, it can be thought of like pre-diabetes. Not a guarantee you'll develop the disease - in my case the much more harmful bi-polar 2 - but if you are careful you can squash that possibility. The more I actively manage my condition, the less likely disorder evolution is.

Sure, I experience some side effects. Orgasm is a little more difficult. I have such a dry mouth some morning it sounds like I'm slurring. Getting up in the morning is hard, but let's be honest, getting up in the morning when you're depressed isn't exactly a picnic.

Over all, after 6 months of medicating? My life is measurably better. I'm better able to spend time maintaining relationships. My overall sex drive is more consistent. I don't feel like I'm racing ahead and everyone round me are idiots who can't keep up with my train of thought. I don't over-commit one day, to under deliver the next. In 6 months, I haven't once thought I don't actively want to die, but wouldn't it be easier for everyone if I never existed?

I'm a better friend, partner, colleague. I'm more me. I play piano and sew dresses I'll never wear and read absolute trash romance novels. I collect vinyl - I order an album and anticipate it's arrival, not forget in a fog. I can budget, because I can find happiness in more than just consumerism and an endless cycle of couriers.

It's not for everyone, and it's not everything. I still need to take a walk, plan my week, make more of an effort than neurotypical folk. On recommendation, because 2023 is going to be a landmark year for me, I'm starting cognitive behavioral therapy so I have more tools when life gets more intense.

But I wouldn't go back.

[a-ghost-of-a-good-mood]

I finally got diagnosed with ADHD at 32, after a bad breakdown where I missed 2 whole weeks of classes because I lost almost all the things that kept me in check and feeling secure and cared for (last year's friends, teachers, schedule, swimming lessons, meds losing the brain side effect, commuting added 1 extra hour going from 3 to 4 hrs) so after the anxiety and depression, I just went into "Instant gratification" mode and spend day after day reading fanfic in bed, wrapped in my coziest blankets, forgot to even eat or drink water some days, I couldn't leave the house either, I was as if I was trapped inside my brain and my unmovable body... I was saddening tbh...

So I got dragged to a psychiatrist and well... Here we have, a ADHD diagnosis...

To think that a good chunk of my life got fucked up because of ADHD (cuz, what I mentioned before has happened before many times, I just got dismissed by family and random people as being lazy and uncaring of the efforts made by my parents to pay for my education), because I made impulse driven decisions of leaving things unfinished, when I couldn't cope with the growing stress of everything I my brain just ran away into more pleasant activities and I couldn't stop .

I've been living my life trying my hardest to be normal, to behave like a normal functional adult, wanting to be normal like everyone else, but I just learned that'll never happen, it could have never happened, cuz my brain developed differently cuz I inherited fucked up genes for my dad (again!)

And I know this is not an illness, but to me in particular, is a very real health issue that has lead me to destroy my life time and time again and right now I am very unhappy and pissed at myself and I feel wrong and I also have to catch up on all my missing classes, and I also have zero will and energy to make acquittances with my new classmates I just go non verbal until a teacher asks me something, and I also feel very awkward cuz I don't know what to do with my body and my facial gesticulations.

And above all this.... I just want to be the same person I was last year, strong, dependable, racing brain to solve issues in creative ways, to process and integrate knowledge fast, to talk with everyone with a confident voice, pouring my respect and care to everyone and specially for my friends/found fam, to know I was a bit different than the rest but still feel comfortable enough to show it in an empowering light.

I rn, am just trash, a corpse trying to get afloat in my own terrible storm. Trying to accept a diagnosis and wishing that one day I'll be able to forgive myself for fucking up my life, for being born with ADHD condition and I don't know when that'll be, or when I'll be able to live with the condition in a functional way, when I'll learn to thrive...

I just wanted to live a simple life, fall in love with a dependable person who'll love me back without an ounce of doubt and we'll age together, but now I'm not sure if anyone would want the burden I represent, I feel more unlovable that ever...

[nathank77]

8/18/24

1:51 p.m

I learned something new, metopolol can cause muscle twitching. I remember after the statin i had muscle spasms for a while. Then they stopped. Up until recently I wasn't getting many muscle twitches or spasms at all. Not enough to note that's for sure and I track myself really hardcore.

I was thinking those muscle twitches could be From being hyper potentially or from even white mulberries or even caffeine or lack of sleep.

Maybe it's metopolol. It's kinda weird though. I took metopolol for like 7 years... or more and never had any issues. I didn't take it today, imma track my heart rate and see what it is without metopolol...

What triggered me to start it was one panic attack and my heart rate resting at 80.... not a great reason and with metopolol controlling my heart rate idk what my heart rate would be if it wasn't in the mix. So let's see.

Maybe the twitching will stop too. I've got to remind myself I was on many less drugs before.... like I added all kinds of supplements and whatnot. Between b12 bc of my mostly vegan/vegatarian diet, l salivarius, white mulberries, Melatonin, Hydroxyzine, coq10, CBD...

Back when I was on metopolol daily I was only taking zrytec, Xanax, vitamin d, and thats really it. I still take those obv.. but I added in a lot. It could alter things with Methimazole added as well.

But this is why I can't jump to me being symptomatically hyper without more facts.

Fact is:

I don't sweat like I used to.

My appetite exists a little more than it did last month but tbh it's nothing like when I was hyper..

Fact is:

Everything I listed for potential symptoms have a potential cause other than being hyper....

Now muscle twitching has one more additional potential cause...

I guess if I need a beta blocker to help my heart rate I may have to ask for another one. I don't like the twitching. I don't want to deal with it..it makes me feel like I'm going to develop a movement disorder. It gives me anxiety.

Metopolol can cause insomnia but to be fair I slept on Metopolol with xanax the entire time before I stopped it. And obv as a pot head before psychosis/microsleep I slept just fine on Metopolol...

Idk why the meds I'm currently on would interact with Metopolol. I never had muscle twitching before. I almost didn't look it up bc I figured it wasn't a side effect but it is.

Let's hope my heart rate is fine without it and the twitching stops.

Also I had 6 days of bad insomnia. Day 1 was when I had the panic attack... the next day I started metopolol.... then I couldn't sleep and had to double up. Then the next day I added weed in and didn't need to double up. The next day I added weed in and didn't double up. The next day I had to double up. The day after i had to double up. Then the next night I had to add weed in and I didn't have to double up. Then last night I didn't have to double up...

So yea... it seems tied... I started metopolol Monday the 12th of August.... and that's when my sleep tracker has the most sleep disturbances and the muscle twitching.....

I think it's kinda ridiculous, something I've taken for 7 years that never caused any of this could now cause it after a few months of not taking it...

But yea... anyways... I'll track my heart rate and my insomnia... and I have that physical imma tell her all the supplements I added into my diet and about this.

Truth be told I'm not on many medications... I'm on 90% supplements... for medical reasons but nonetheless I've added a lot to my diet.

[sadpeaflower]

Ever Changing

Lately in my life, I have experienced a major shift.

December 19, 2020, while working at my regular retail sales job, a man came in and almost unalived me from this world over something absolutely stupid. I cannot say what because I still work at this job, but it did enough damage that on December 31, 2020, my right arm went completely numb. Numb in a way that I can only describe as from the inside. I could still feel a pinch, but inside felt numb. It was the most insane feeling. I left work and went to a convenient care to see what was wrong. They sent me home with some muscle relaxers and said to just chill out.

I had spent most of my life with anxiety and bipolar disorder, so yes, I did believe I just needed to relax.

It was so much more than that.

On January 18, 2021, I found my doctor, the most amazing woman in the world. We tried many things before we finally decided to put me on medication. On the same day, she prescribed it to me, I got a massage as she suggested (PT did not work, so this was her last hope as she suspected something with my muscles), I had a panic attack in the last 5 minutes, but afterward, I felt my arm. For just an hour, but I felt it.

Sidenote: Throughout this experience, I also had a wonderful manager. He used to work in a psych ward and knew how to handle anxiety pretty well. I had many many panic attacks at work and he would walk me around outside and tell me stories about the "hood" to try and distract me. He was a great man and I will forever be thankful for him.

Anyways, on April 12, 2021, I took my first mood stabilizer pill. I am extremely sensitive to medications and I was on this medication (Lamictal) in high school. It worked very well and had no side effects for me so we decided to put me back on it. I took it at my best friend's house. After all, I had a panic attack before taking it because I was afraid to take it because what if I die, blah blah blah, so I just wanted someone around. Thirty minutes after I took that pill I could feel my arm and I didn't feel like the world was out to get me. This was the first time I ever felt like a medication worked.

These past few years, since that day, have been absolutely insane. I am afraid of everything. Even though I am not having panic attacks about it, I just won't try anything. If I try a new food, I think I am going to die. If I try a new activity, I think I am going to die. Etcetera. I have developed severe health anxiety and I literally cannot keep anything to myself.

...until recently.

It is August of 2024 and this summer I have learned how to swim again, started reading again, started writing again, and going to the pool, I swam in a lake (big deal), I have been standing up for myself, learning new things, taking school seriously, and finally figuring out one thing I want for my future. This all started about 3 weeks ago and I have no idea who this new woman is but I love her.

She is sticking up for us, becoming knowledgeable, having fun, getting excited, enjoying the outdoors, and prioritizing herself. I didn't do anything specifically to get here, I think I was just done being afraid. But instead of finishing what the guy in 2020 wanted to do, I just said fuck it. Why not live my fucking life? It's mine after all. Not his, not my boss's, not my mom's, not a customer's, not my boyfriend's, it's fucking mine.

Why was I ever so against having this life? Why did I want to sit in self pity and be sad and scared and lonely and useless? This is amazing. I have never felt so free and full. Things are changing and I have opened my doors to change. I have gone through enough. It is time to have fun, kick back, and relax. I deserve it.

And reader...so do you ♡

I'll keep you all updated.

[johnkrrasinski]

𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜

Chapter 2: bad was the blood

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader

Word Count: 4,376

Summary: blessed with telepathic abilities since birth, you were captured by HYDRA and turned into one of their weapons to kill. after the blip, you were pardoned by the government and you were obliged to check up with dr. raynor everyday which you had no clue would lead you to the one soul you’d been waiting for.

Warnings: SMUT!! (18+) angst, mentions of anxiety, nightmares, murders.

A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @ohmickeyhenry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for trusting me with your story. i sincerely hope you like it.

It had been a week since you and Bucky reunited and ever since that night, you and him were practically inseparable. Your bedroom was next to his and each night, he always came to yours to catch up on things and some nights, your conversation would go so deep that he would find himself waking up in your bed when the sun rises. He’d always leave your bed slowly to go into his room so that he wouldn’t wake you.

Each night he sleeps next to you, his nightmare became less intense. They still haunted him but they were vague, it was as if the faces of his victims become blurry and the echoes become whispers. One night, Bucky came back home from a small mission late and by the time he arrived at the compound, you were already asleep. Bucky knew the passcode to your door so he could let himself in anytime. He typed in those numbers and slowly opened the door and he smiled at the view of you sleeping peacefully. He would watch you sleep all night if he could, but he was exhausted and so were you, so he left you alone to rest.

Beads of sweat rolled down your skin as the cold air sent shivers down your spine. You watched the emotions in Natasha’s eyes vanished, as if her soul left her body and that’s left was the vessel. Sam, Tony and Bruce stood there like statues, waiting for your order. They had one thing in common with Natasha and that was the void of emotion. You felt a sense of pride in turning the Avengers into lifeless soldiers. They were at your mercy, you could command them to destroy the entire world with only a whisper.

Then you felt a cold grip on your arm, “Y/N… Why are you doing this?” Those steel blue eyes held so much pain in them as if he had just been betrayed by the person he trusted the most. “Stop this now! This isn’t you.” Bucky pleaded.

“Stand back soldier, or you are next.”

“No, I won’t let you do this to our friends.”

“Stand back. I will not ask you once again,” you warned him without a hint of uncertainty.

“Stop this, now or I will.” Bucky opposed.

“Very well,” with merely a glare, you activated the soldier you once knew. Years ago in the cold bunker of Hydra, ready to murder with a single order.

“готов подчиниться.”

You watched his blue eyes turned to ice, imitating his infamous name. You smirked and leaned close to his ear, “welcome back, soldier.”

You thrashed your body in your sheets and woke up with a loud scream. You thought you were doing well but the nightmare returned. You were doing what you dreaded again to your friends, the people you considered your family now. You sat up in your bed and sobbed until you heard Bucky opened your door with a concerned gaze. “Y/N, are you okay…?” He didn’t hesitate in running to you and sat next to you on your bed.

“I didn’t mean to, I- I never meant to hurt anyone…” You sobbed against Bucky’s chest as he wrapped his arm around you. His flesh arm held your head close to where his heart was beating and he tried to calm you down by stroking your hair and shushed you. He didn't know what you meant by that and he had many questions to ask but he understood better than anyone that in this state, integrating you would only cause more damage, so he let you cry it all out and comfort you in every way he could.

“It’s okay, y/n. I’m here, it’s going to be okay.”

You cried as you laid on Bucky’s chest until exhaustion took you over. You didn’t remember when you both began to drift away but as Bucky was sleeping, he saw visions of you doing heinous things to people, innocent souls who were held against their wills. He heard their screams and their pleas, but they weren’t looking at him, they were looking at… Her. Bucky had never seen her gaze so cold. Then he was transported into another scene… The place where HYDRA used to store him. It was one of the Russian Armed Forces, Vasily Karpov who was in charge of him during his Winter Soldier years.

Bucky remembered every second he spent trapped in the chair as he was given his orders. But this time, it was her strapped on that chair, screaming in agony. He watched him spelling out the activation words, they were different than his but just as effective. Bucky tried to reach her out, wanting to punch all those men and get her out of there but somehow his feet were stuck in place.

As the last word was uttered, he watched the woman he had slowly fallen in love with disappeared, replaced by a soulless soldier who was ready to kill anything that stood in her way. Bucky woke up to faint echoes of his name being called, “Bucky…” And slowly, he began to come back to life, and he saw her face, still the woman he knew, not the soldier in his dream, looming over him. “Did you see it?”

Bucky instantly sat up as he stared at her, “you were one of the winter soldiers. You were there.”

You nodded, “I was… They never referred to me as the winter soldier, however, I was treated just the same as you were. I had the same purpose as you.”

“How come you never told me?” His gaze was soft, he didn’t sound disappointed or betrayed, he just sounded… Worried.

“I couldn’t… I just didn’t know where to begin. I didn’t want to ruin what we had so I figured, if I left you first, I wouldn’t have to hurt you too and I was afraid that if you found out, you’d never look at me the same.”

“Sweetheart, we are both haunted by the same things. I’d never hate you for what you did. Don’t you think I didn’t have the same fears before? We’ll get through this together, I promise.” He held your face in his hands, the contrast of temperature in both of his hands was somehow soothing you, reminding you that he was once just as peccable as you were.

“But I don’t trust myself, Bucky. Someone could find the book and if they say the words, I could hurt people again… I could hurt you too. And I don’t know if I would ever come back.”

“I won’t let that happen, I promise you. I couldn’t trust my own mind too until I went to Wakanda and they fixed me. They removed the winter soldier program and now I’m free.”

“Is that… Possible?”

“Yes, I’ll explain everything in the morning but, right now, we need to rest.”

“Okay…” you were feeling rather drowsy, not only physically but emotionally too. It was never easy to unravel such shame and remorse.

Bucky laid back and opened his arm for you to sneak under it. You placed your head on his chest, feeling safe and sound being so close to him. Bucky’s fingers tangled with your hair as he kissed your forehead. “Promise you’ll be here when I wake up?”

“I promise,” he whispered.

The sound of his steady heartbeat lulled you to sleep.

-

The next morning, Bucky and you had breakfast together. It was early, the dawn had just begun, and some of the Avengers were out for a run or still asleep. You and Bucky had some alone time in the kitchen and you were thankful for the brief moment of solitude.

“So, what I said last night…” Bucky initiated the conversation as he put his coffee mug on the table. “I really think our best option is to go to Wakanda, y/n. They’ve got the best medical equipment, the people are extremely smart, they’ll take care of you. Just like they took care of me.”

“What makes you think they want to treat me, Buck? I mean, they took you in because the king and Steve made an agreement, but they have no idea who I am and even if they do, they don’t owe me anything.”

“The Wakandans may be resourceful and independent, but they are generous people too. I’ll call Ayo and sort everything out. They can spare me a few more favours.”

“If they agree to treat me, I only wanna go if you go too. I don’t wanna be alone in a country I’ve never been to before, Buck. I’m not familiar with their culture, I don’t speak their language, I don’t wanna fuck it up, you know?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there with you every step of the way. I promise.”

“Why are you so good to me?”

“Because you’re the only good thing that happened to me in the past seventy years.”

You never believed in butterflies, but you swore in that moment, the whole damn zoo went nuts. Bucky had a way to make you feel loved and cherished, and you were falling fast. You just hoped that he’d be there to catch you.

The sincerity in his eyes made you smile like you never had before. Looking back, the only times you had ever genuinely smiled was because of Bucky. His texts, his face, his touches, they were your newfound grace. Bucky told you that you were the only good thing that happened to him in the past seventy years, but so was he to you. Was it possible for two fucked up people who had done heinous things to find such love? You could only hope that nothing would come in the way of that.

-

Wakanda was a breath of fresh air. Figuratively and literally. You loved New York, no matter what, it would always be your home. However, Wakanda could definitely give New York a run for its money. The air was free out of pollutions from vehicles, everywhere you look, the landscape was filled with scenic greenery and not to mention the futuristic architectures yet deeply rooted in their culture. The people were welcoming and kind, yet they were not to be crossed over.

When you and Bucky first landed, the king himself, T’Challa with Okoye and Ayo by his sides welcomed you. It was intimidating to be in their presence, yet you were fascinated by how graceful they were. You were hoping that your anxiety wouldn’t make you do something dumb or stupid in front of them so as soon as you were out of the quinjet that Sam was flying, you bowed in front of the king. “We don’t do that here…” T’Challa declared.

You swore you could pass out from embarrassment. Bucky chuckled when you straightened your pose. T’Challa shook hands with Bucky like they were old friends, so did he with Sam. Bucky had been communicating with Ayo regarding your visit today so he didn’t have to explain why you were there anymore. They led you to Shuri’s lab where the miracle occurs.

When she saw you, she was nothing like you expected. She was younger than you but she seemed so ahead of you. She seemed so ahead of everyone in the room. She was bright and had an effervescent personality. The lab was unlike anything you’d ever seen, even Tony’s lab in the compound wasn’t as swanky as this one. Shuri’s lab had equipment you didn't even know existed.

She greeted you both, “welcome back Sergeant Barnes, and who’s your girlfriend?” her bluntness caught you off guard.

“Princess, this is y/n and y/n this is Princess Shuri. King T’challa’s younger sister. She was the one who fixed me eight years ago.”

“Hi Princess, it’s an honour.” You shook her hands.

“Welcome. Now let’s get you comfortable so we can take a look inside your brain, yeah?”

Now here you were, sitting in front of a burning yule log, the fire illuminated your face in the dead of the night. Ayo was standing across you, watching you with her spear ready but she trusted you, regardless. Bucky sat next to you, close enough to reassure you that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you or anyone.

“It’s gonna work, y/n. I promise.”

“What if it doesn’t? How will you bring me back?”

“Shuri would know what to do. I was sceptical of my own mind too at first, but I turned out fine. Better, even. You’re in good hands.”

“If she comes back, and you can’t stop her, promise me you’ll put her out, even if it kills me.”

“Y/N…” He looked wounded, how could he possibly do such a thing to the woman he loved?

“James! I can’t hurt anyone else anymore, and worse, if I hurt you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

He nodded, though his heart was saying otherwise. “Okay, I promise.”

The tears in your eyes crawled down your cheeks and he held you close in the hut you’d been sharing with him. He kissed your hair like he would when he comforted you. The hut was simple and far away from the modern life you were used to in the compound or in New York, but you loved the tranquillity and simplicity of it. Some nights where Bucky and you would lie together, warming each other up, wearing nothing but customary clothes, you’d quietly think, you could get used to this. The simple life, with Bucky. Just you and him, and the rest of the world fade into the background. You wondered, could you still have it? That life? Or was it just wishful thinking? Right now, you could only hope that you’d be released from the demons of your past, that still lived in your head.

“I’ll be here, doll.” Bucky whispered and held your hand until the very last second.

“I won’t let you hurt anyone, Y/N. We successfully removed the winter soldier programs from James’ mind like rotten fur, you have nothing to worry.”

You nodded, “okay Ayo… I’m ready.”

You inhaled and stared at your own feet. The soil seemed like a great distraction at that moment. You wished you could hold Bucky’s hand but you didn’t want to look like a scared little baby. Then you heard it, Ayo’s assured voice spelling out the first codeword and the tension in your body rose. You trembled from the cold air, preparing yourself for the worst to happen as she uttered the next one. With each word, the fear in your veins amplified, thinking that any second now you were going to be a passenger in your own body and the demon that lived within you was going to take over.

But as Ayo uttered the last word, you were still there. You remembered your name, you remember where you were, you remembered the people around you and why you were there. You didn’t feel paralyzed, but rather alive. Freed from chains. You couldn’t believe it, you were never one to believe in miracles but that night, you did.

“You’re free, y/n.” Ayo smile like a proud mother.

“I’m free…” You repeated her words as if you were trying to convince yourself that it’s true.

She nodded, and you looked at Bucky who couldn’t hold himself back from wrapping his arms around you as he kissed your temple. “Oh, baby….” You could hear the genuine happiness in his voice and the shape of his lips forming a smile against you.

“You are both free,” Ayo declared.

You looked into his blue eyes that were gleaming with joy and love for only you. In that moment, you wished you had your phone with you so you could capture the priceless look on his face. You knew he was happy for you, however, you felt like you were celebrating his happiness instead. Maybe that’s what true love really is, celebrating each other’s happiness.

He grabbed your face and kissed you so deeply, taking your breath away. You could taste the saltiness of your tears cascaded down to your lips, but it was okay because you could feel Bucky’s soft lips against yours too and it was all you needed.

You held hands with Bucky, walking down to your shared hut, never wanting to untangle yourself from each other. Each night in Wakanda was an entire voyage itself. The scintillating stars in the sky and the quietness was paradise. You could see why Bucky adored Wakanda so much, everything about this country is perfect.

You laid on Bucky’s chest, playing with his dog tag. Even while sleeping, he never took it off. “I can’t believe I’m finally free…” you whispered.

Bucky looked down at you, “believe it doll, you deserve it.”

You sat up and leaned on your elbow, looking at him, “Thank you for getting me here and for being with me through it all. You’re amazing, Bucky.”

“No, doll, that is you. You’re one of the strongest people I know and I admire that.” Bucky sat up and he stared into your eyes as he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

In that moment, there was a sudden urge to have him in a way you hadn’t had. You didn’t care about anything else, you just needed to feel every inch of him, and you needed him to feel every inch of you. You slammed your lips onto his, taking Bucky by surprise yet he leaned into it. Bucky grabbed your arse, pushing your body closer to him, despite the nonexistent gap between you. Bucky licked your bottom lip, and you took his cue as parting them, allowing his tongue to take over your mouth.

You stopped for a second to gasp for air, and you closed your eyes, letting Bucky take the wheel. Bucky moved his flesh hand to your hair, holding a fistful of it to your face in place. Then when he felt like he needed more, Bucky moved his hands to your thighs, lifting you onto his thighs, then he shifted his body around so that he was on top of you and you were lying on the pillow.

Bucky was still kissing you until he started moving his kisses down to your chin, then to your jaw then to your neck, the spot that he knew would elicit a sound of you. Bucky might’ve been over a hundred years old and he hadn’t been intimate with anyone since 1945 but he still remembered how he used to make a woman scream for his name and he wasn’t going to waste that talent.

Bucky lifted the hem of the tank top you were sleeping in and you raised your hands to make it easier for him to get rid of it. This was the first time Bucky had seen you naked, you were always sleeping in clothes next to him, whether it’s a tank top and super short shorts, you were always covered. But now, you were all bare and you were slightly nervous because you hadn’t let anyone see you like this since you were captured by HYDRA.

Chills ran down your spine from the crisp air, but it was also because of the way Bucky was ogling you. You could see how dilated his pupils are, overshadowing the blue. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he breathed.

Bucky continued his lecherous act, kissing down your chest then to your right nipple, swirling his tongue around like a lollipop while his other hand toyed with your left breast. You arched your back as you shut your eyes, letting him do whatever he wanted to you. You whimpered, needing more of him. “Bucky…”

He wanted to taste more of you so he trailed kisses down your stomach, waking up the butterflies inside until he was breathing to your core. Even in the darkness, he could see how your wetness glistens. He wrapped his arms in each of your thighs and spread them apart for him to dive in. He could tell you were feeling a little shy but he made sure to make you feel otherwise by kissing the insides of your thighs, telling you, “I bet you taste real sweet, darling…”

His words made you open your eyes and looked down at him, between your things. He smirked mischievously at your reaction. Then he dipped into your core, licking a stripe up to your clit, making you moan out his name. The way his stubble burnt your delicate flesh made you want to close your thighs however, Bucky held them firmly in place. He savoured every drop, devouring you like a famished man. Your thighs trembled around him and you bit your lip trying to surpass the moans. The slurping sounds that he made were sinful.

Then he shoved two of his fingers inside you, scissoring you open for him. You gasped, the intrusion shocked you, causing you to open your eyes and look down at his act. “Oh God, Buck, I’m fucking close…”

He dipped down again, savouring more juices flowing out of you. “Shh, I know doll, let go. I got you.” He continued his assault on your cunt until you felt the bubble in your belly exploded, making you see stars. You had forgotten the pleasure of chasing your orgasm until Bucky reminded you. Bucky swallowed every drop you released, not wanting to waste anything. He stayed there until you had nothing more to give.

Bucky rose from between your thighs, kissing you passionately and you could taste yourself on his tongue. It was so fucking debauched yet you fucking loved it. You wrap your arms around his neck and run your hands through his hair, messing it up and he looked so fucking sexy.

“I want you Bucky, please fill me up,” you pleaded in between makeout.

“You want this doll? You want me?” He knew what you desired, he just wanted to make sure one last time before you go all the way so you wouldn’t regret it in the morning.“

“Yes Bucky, I want all of you… Only you.”

“I got you, sweetheart.” Bucky grabbed your hands and put them above your head. He pulled back to take off his pants, freeing his cock out of his boxer. To say Bucky was packing light would be a massive lie. He was long and thick, not to mention he was painfully hard. You really didn’t expect it. You had thought about it and you guessed he was more on the lengthy side yet, he seemed to surprise you more and more every time.

Bucky saw the way you stared at it and he smirked at your reaction. “Like what you see, doll?” He stroked the shaft, getting it ready to plunge into you.

You bit your lip as your chest heaved at the licentious scene, “can I taste it?”

Bucky scoffed and shook his head while still stroking himself, “not tonight, doll. But I’ll hold your word.” He crawled back up to your body and you spread your legs apart to make room for him, you maintained eye contact as he held both of your hands that were still above your head. You could feel the nudge of the tip of his cock on your bud, making your toes curl, “are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes…” you practically whined. “Please, take me.”

Without a second thought, Bucky pushed himself inside you, slowly yet you could feel every inch of him stretching your walls open and you threw your head back, the friction caused your head to spin. You cried out his name as you tightened your grip on his hands, needing to hold onto something.

Bucky grunted when he was fully inside and he took a moment to hide his face in your neck, “ah, fucking hell, doll. You feel amazing.”

“Move Bucky, please…” you pleaded after you adjusted to him being inside you.

Bucky began to move slowly, started with shallow thrusts, pulling back a bit then pushed it back inside. When you didn’t show any signs of resistance, he began to pick up the pace and it made your moans grow louder. “Oh, fuck…” you cursed due to the sensation. “Faster, Buck…”

Your wish is Bucky’s command, he did as you asked and he was enjoying more and more of it. You lifted your legs higher on his waist, locking them there for dear life. You wailed as his cock impaled you, forgetting that there were probably kids sleeping around your hut but you were too clouded with pleasure to worry about that. The onslaught caused you to clench around him and your coil tightened. Knowing you won’t last much longer, Bucky detached his flesh hand from yours and moved it down to your clit, rubbing it in circles over and over again and you plummeted into bliss, electricity ran through your veins as you hit your peak, releasing yourself all over him.

Bucky kept thrusting, seeing the way your face contorted in satisfaction because of him and how your walls tightened around him threw him off the edge, causing him to reach his own orgasm. He spilt himself inside you, finishing with shallow thrusts until every drop was stored. “Ah, fuck…” He groaned.

Bucky laid on top of you while still staying inside you. You loved the intimacy of being this close to him, honestly, you wouldn’t mind staying in this position until dawn. Both of you tried to gain control over your breathing as you were completely spent. Once he regained composure, he pulled himself out of you and laid next to you.

“That was…”

“Fucking amazing? Yeah…” Bucky completed that sentence as he held you in his arms and kissed your forehead.

“You were amazing, doll.” He continued.

“I haven’t had sex since… Well, since as long as I can remember.”

“Me too, doll. You are my first since everything that happened.”

“You are mine, too.”

For a few seconds, you just stared at each other lovingly with satisfaction plastered all over your faces. You relished in each others’ warmth, despite the hut reeking of sweat and smell of sex, you found comfort in each other, putting both of you to sleep.

tags; @ohmickeyhenry @suitofvibraniumarmor @themaddies-obx @beminetokeep @bluemoon-icecream-blog @bluemoon-icecream @harprs @thefridgeismybestie @abitofeverythingg @wolfonthemoonwatchestvshows @julimelodi @bookscoffeandotherstuff @tanyaherondale @artisancowbells @ferxaniti @intothesoul @hallecarey1 @buckybarnesplumwhore @thefallenbibliophilequote @andiyholly @emizla @capxwinter @jevans2 @alwaysreadingimagineschick @swtltlmrvlgrl @extremelyblackandwhite

[stonefreeak]

I am so sorry this has taken me so long. I can’t believe i missed updating in February entirely! Work is busy, and I have moved and am trying to get everything in my apartment put together and it’s just A Lot right now. But I will work hard to not forget to update again!

Shaak Ti walks through the halls of Kamino, projecting the sort of calm she knows she's become known for over the years. In times of upheaval, anxiety, and unrest, being a source of calm and peace is helpful not just for yourself but also to the people around you. She's long since learned to keep a tight leash on her emotional responses.

It's not that she doesn't feel, to suggest such a thing would be ridiculous—she's hardly had the emotional centres of her brain damaged or removed after all—she's merely cautious with how she lets herself express it. If she becomes agitated, if she lashes out, she risks bleeding her own agitation into the Force and affecting other people and beings around her, stoking their agitation. Not to mention that she risks entering a feedback loop with the Force, where she projects her emotions into it, and it sends those emotions back to her causing a spiral into ever deepening loss of emotional control.

As a Force Sensitive being, allowing your emotions to get the better of you means you risk losing control of yourself entirely. Usually that means that people get hurt, and Shaak Ti has no interest in people coming to harm.

She locks her emotions down, catalogues them, acknowledges them, and leaves them for meditation later when she's alone and has the time to properly dissect what she's feeling and why she's feeling it.

A side effect of this is that she has an amazing poker face—none of her fellow council members will play Correllian poker with her anymore—and as she tries to investigate the supposed chips inside the troopers' brains, it more than serves her well.

The people of Kamino have very limited emotional reflection in the Force, it seems to be an inherent trait of their species. That they're also so foreign to her that she still cannot accurately gauge their emotions from their facial expressions—limited as they are—means that she's always in a precarious situation when she speaks with them on sensitive matters. Being able to tell if they're deliberately hiding something from her or if they simply don't know is more than a little bit difficult.

But if Master Kenobi is correct, then they are deliberately hiding something from them all. Something that Former Chancellor Palpatine likely knows about, was told about, but which they haven't shared with Master Kenobi despite him being the new Chancellor.

She doesn't like the sound of that, the idea that they wouldn't speak about it with any Supreme Chancellor, but rather only Palpatine. It gives her a bad feeling, and she wonders if, perhaps, the Former Chancellor is corrupt in a way they have yet to discover? She's been told by the rest of the Council that he's been found guilty of some milder charges—as far as any corruption charges are mild—but perhaps there's more to the whole thing. Perhaps there are things that the investigation couldn't find, because all evidence of it existed only in Kamino's data systems, far beyond the reach of the investigative team.

When Master Kenobi had first brought it up, she had agreed despite her own scepticism—she is not one for dismissing possible dangers off-hand, after all. With how things have developed... Well, she's starting to believe that he was on to something, even though her own research so far has not yielded much results.

Of course she realises that if the Kaminoans wish to hide these chips from them, her access codes would not give her access to anything that is related to the chips. But she had to look into it through official and open—to her—channels first. There is no good reason to treat people as untrustworthy criminals when you have not even the smallest bit of proof that they are that. She had originally planned to simply ask the Kaminoans about the chips, but once she was about to, a sudden feeling of unease swept over her, and she held her tongue.

But her general research has failed, and now she's facing a very difficult choice: either she asks the Kaminoans directly regarding the chips thus tipping them off to the fact that she knows about their existence in the first place, thus risking them looking more closely at her actions following said discussion, or she tries to conduct covert and far from legal entrance into their systems before she so much as ask them about it.

She pauses and realises that she's made an error in judgement. While it's true that the Kaminoans would keep a closer eye on her if she were to bring any of her concerns up to them... They are unlikely to believe she would trust any trooper.

Of course, if the chips exist at all, then the problem comes in the form of what the chips do. She has never sensed any sort of duplicity or danger from any of the clones she's ever trained or interacted with. They are good and loyal men, men who deserve more life than what the Republic is willing to give them due to their status as clones, so she does not fear trusting them.

The question is... Who should she ask?

There is sure to be capable and subtle troopers among those stationed here. All her men are capable of course, though not all of them are subtle.

She needs to find a trooper who can be trusted to work covertly, but also without being detected. They also need to be without pride, because if they get caught, they need to allow her to run interference in any way she can, and trust her to be doing so for their sake.

Perhaps she should lay a false trail, express worry about information leaks, and ask the Kaminoans regarding their security. Vaguely, not pressing for any details of course. However, just as with doing any clandestine breaking and entering the secure data centres of Kamino herself, she is too noticeable a figure. She cannot blend in or hide herself away, and if she asks too many questions, she risks making them suspicious.

If the Kaminoans are hiding something from the Jedi and the Chancellor—possible because the new chancellor is a Jedi—then she cannot tip them off to the fact that they are suspicious. That they are trying to investigate.

She would like to walk into this potential fire first, ahead of her men, as the Jedi do... But in this particular instance, she is quite certain that her presence at the metaphorical front would do more harm than good. She will need to send a trooper in her stead, and put her hope in their skills and strength.

She'll look into it, there are sure to be some who stand out as appropriate choices. Some who will be willing to help her with her covert mission. The clones have no love for the Kaminoans, as far as she knows, even though they seem to consider Kamino their home world. As far as she's been able to ascertain, their loyalty is with the Jedi and the Republic—even though the Republic has never given them anything, and the Jedi has never been able to give them anything except a clear command structure and the occasional meditation help and teachings about the Force.

Perhaps once this war is over, the clone troopers who still live can finally be given personhood and a place to live and stay. Perhaps when they're all finally free from this terrible war, her men can be allowed to flourish in any which way they want.

Not just on the battlefield.

For now she'll speak with the Council again. She cannot tell them openly, just in case the Kaminoans keep some sort of watch on their communication channels, set up to trigger on specific keywords. If they do, then they may already know that she is looking, so all the more important to not let them know any of what she's planning. But while she cannot speak plainly, she can speak in the kind of code that will have the Council send out a fleet to Kamino under some sort of pretence, and through that, she can send back a coded flimsi message containing any and all information she's found until then. Whichever trooper she finds for this mission will have to go with the fleet, and perhaps that will be the safest way for them all.

The Council will be able to request the trooper's aid far away from Kamino and the Kaminoans, and without any risk of them overhearing it. The Temple, at least, is safe enough that jammers alone will keep the information safe.

If she were to use any here, it would most likely make anyone looking to overhear her conversations suspicious.

The last thing they want is anyone trying to hide away the evidence.

They cannot afford any mistakes. It's too dangerous for that.

She lowers herself to her knees and places her hands gently in her lap, focusing on her breathing as she wraps the Force around her.

She will meditate on her next step before she makes any move at all. It wouldn't do to move too quickly and make a mistake.

—

(Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi masterpost)

[terry-perry]

Here We Go Again pt. 3

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinsdottir!Reader

Warnings: Parental angst (if that’s a thing)

OC: A.J. Rogers, Daisy Rogers, Natalie Rogers

A/N: Previous parts HERE and HERE.

Tags: @prettysatan​

Enjoy!

He didn’t know what was going on with her. At first, he thought it was about work. He knew how stressed she could get when the council couldn’t reach agreements on certain issues. But then, he began to do some more thinking. Was this about the girls leaving for that mission?

She was still having a bit of a struggle with accepting the fact that they were now part of the next generation of Avengers. They were still her babies, in her eyes. Only 17 and 19, and they were off fighting crime and putting their lives on the line to save the world. How could she not worry?

Whatever it was that was bothering her, she shouldn’t keep it all bottled up. He wanted to be there for her as best as he could.

“Thor?” Steve approached his brother-in-law at the cliffs overlooking the waters. It was always a favorite spot of the God’s who now looked over his shoulder to offer a welcoming smile.

“Something I can do for you, brother?”

Even after all these years, it felt rather strange for Steve to be referred to as such. When imagining the possibility of future in-laws, he didn’t exactly prepare himself to have any that were of royalty. And in this case, space royalty. Still, it didn’t deter him from seeing Thor as family. It was why he was coming to him, after all. 

“I don’t know,” Steve said, not knowing how else to start. “I just-- I’ve been worried about Y/N. I’m sure it’s nothing; maybe she’s just stressing out over work. But it still feels like she’s closing herself off from everyone. It’s not my business, but did she mention anything to you by any chance?”

After hearing this, Thor was now the one unsure of what to say. Guess Y/N hadn’t told him the news just yet, leading him to this suspicion. This alone made Thor want to spill everything to him, but it wasn’t his secret to tell. No matter how much it concerned Steve. 

“Well, what do you think she might be concerning herself with?” He decided to take a different route by trying to see if Steve could figure it out himself.

It seemed to have done the trick as he pushed his brows together to think about it. “The most recent thing I can think of is the last time we talked to the girls. They have to stay where they are, longer than anticipated. It’s been getting Y/N more anxious than she already was.”

“That must be it then!” Thor attempted to make it look like he came to this conclusion as well. Laying on the enthusiasm a little too thick. 

Steve didn‘t notice, thankfully. Now busy feeling guilty for what Y/N has been going through by herself. And it wasn’t that he hasn’t been missing Daisy and Nat either. He missed them like crazy. But they had jobs to do, just like the ones he and Y/N had.

He figured it was hitting her the hardest since when the kids were growing up, she had been the parent that mostly worked and stayed active even after retiring from the Avengers. He himself took on a more Fury-like role by helping to recruit new members and resolve any disputes there may be between the government and superheroes, but he still spent most of the time at home. 

Now he wanted to do what he could to help her through this emotional time.

But what?

She continued to pace around the living room, seeming to get more antsy by the minute. This was getting to be too much. Pushing on the verge of ridiculous. She just needed to be upfront about it now. 

“Mom?”

And as if she needed to add more to her inner stress...

“Darling,” she greeted A.J. as he walked in looking concerned. Deja vu. 

“What’s going on? What happened at dinner?”

“I was wondering that myself. What happened with you? You looked quite sick.”

“You’re one to talk,” he retorted, his worried stare having yet faded. “You were covering your nose and face. Was there something actually wrong with the food?”

“No,” she stated, sighing. If she was wanting to be more upfront about this, might as well start now. “The thing is...I’m pregnant.”

She could hear the way his breath caught in his throat. And if that didn’t give away his shock at the news, his suddenly big eyes certainly did. Though it only seemed to last for a second or two, his expression than changing to one of curiosity and intrigue as he glanced down at her stomach.

“Huh, that explains some things then,” he mumbled more to himself.  

She tilted her head, wondering now herself what he could mean by that. “Like what?”

His eyes went back to hers to explain. “Well, at dinner, I think I felt something like a presence? Like someone else was there besides you, me, and dad. And maybe that explains why I felt sick. Because you were feeling sick. Is that possible?”

Her confusion and worry then changed into feelings relating to elation and pride. 

“A.J.!” She squealed, approaching him with these emotions in hand. “You’ve inherited your grandmother’s gift.”

“Her gift?”

It could go without saying that Frigga was a powerful witch with many talents. Which is why it can also be said that her powerful empath abilities could easily be overlooked. It was what helped her in being a wonderful wife and mother as well as a selfless and understanding queen, beloved by all. Being able to channel others’ emotions and auras. Could A.J. have gained this skill too?

“Your grandmother was a powerful Empath that could read the feelings of others,” Y/N went on to explain. “And if powerful enough, they can take on the energy of others. Even feel things before they happen due to having a strong intuition.”

“So, like a mind reader?” A.J. asked.

“In a way. Except instead of thoughts, you’re able to read emotions. The energy level of others. Perhaps what you were sensing at dinner was the presence of your future sibling as well as my troubling emotions. Not to mention, my nausea.”

A scoffing chuckle was what she was met with along with “Well, I’m happy for about the baby and the cool stuff I gained, but I don’t know if I’m looking forward to feeling everything you’re gonna feel these next nine months.”

She was happy to learn about this new development about his son, but he certainly had a point. How would this effect him on a personal level? How did Frigga do it exactly? This wasn’t something either her or any of her siblings inherited fully. Perhaps Mantis would be able to lend hand on this, given she was an Empath herself.

“We’ll find a way to help you control your powers,” she assured him. In the meantime, she was glad that he didn’t seem put off by the other news. “So, you’re okay with the baby? Truly?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling before giving her a small, reassuring hug. “It’s a surprise, but it’s awesome. But, I take it Dad doesn’t know.”

She looked embarrassed as she shook her head. “Haven’t had the spine to tell him. Scared of how he’d react. But now I’m feeling guilty for putting it off. Doesn’t help that your Uncle Thor and Aunt Brunnhilde already know.”

She released a heavy sigh after spewing all this out. On some level, she wanted him to judge her for acting like a frightened child. But all he could give her was a sweet, comforting look that had him look so much like Steve.

“He’s gonna think this is great news,” A.J. assured her. “He’ll be shocked, sure, but he’ll be happy.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely,”

The third voice that came into the room immediately caught her off guard, realizing who it was in an instant. She spun around to find Steve had entered their home. That same reassuring and loving face.

“A.J., you mind giving us a minute alone?” Steve requested, directing his head towards the front door.

A.J. understood right away and gave one more smile before making his exit. Leaving his parents alone. One that was biting her bottom lip an fiddling with her fingers while the other wanted it to be known that everything was okay. It would be, anyway.

“How much of that did you hear?” She began with, still afraid to look him in the eye fully. 

“Only all of it,” he teased lightly with a shrug. He walked over so he pull her into his arms and let her see how genuine his happiness was, now that it was up close. “This is great, really.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” she still felt the need to apologize and open to him the way a wife was meant to do with her partner. “I was scared. For many reasons, if we’re being honest. I mean, it’s been so long since we’ve been in this situation. Will we still be good at this?”

“Of course! Y/N...” he pressed her closer as he ran his hands along her sides. The way his fingers traced his back and lightly massaged her got her shivering a bit. “If we’re being honest, I’m scared too. But, it’s a good scared. Like when I realized I was in love with you. Or, even when you were pregnant the first time.” He paused to give a kiss to the top of her head. “This is gonna be great for us. We’re great parents. You, especially. It’s why I thought you were so upset in the first place.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he took a deep breath, now feeling like the embarrassed one. “I thought you were feeling depressed about the girls being gone.”

“Oh, darling. I mean, of course I wish they were here, but I know they have a job to do. I’m proud of them.”

Steve could only smile brighter as he pressed a kiss to her hand. “That right there. That’s how I know we’re going to be okay. Y/N, you care so much about the people you love and do your best to understand them. It’s why you’re such a great mom. Why I love you so much.”

Her eyes couldn’t help but fill up. He knew. It was true that most of her worry derived from her own anxiety. It’d been a mix of things like her past worry from her family’s history and how she wasn’t the most present parental figure that she wanted to be. But he was right. They got this.

“I’m so lucky,” she summed up these thoughts by simply stating that before burying her face in his chest. 

He chuckled softly and continued to hold her tight. They stayed that way a little while longer until he brought up a surprise of his own:

“We should probably head outside. I called the girls, and they managed to conjure themselves up for a visit. Let’s tell them the good news.”

[idreamofplaid]

Married in Austin

Square Filled: Woke Up Married for @spnfluffbingo ; Free Space for @spngenrebingo ; Austin, Texas for @spndeanbingo

Characters: Jensen x Reader; Jared; Kim, Brianna, and Ruth mentioned

Rating: M

Summary: The reader wakes up to find herself living a dream.

Word Count: 4398

A/N: Beta’d by the in all ways wonderful @dean-winchesters-bacon . Thank you Kat! This is Part I of three parts.

It was the biggest diamond ring you’d ever seen in person that wasn’t inside a case in a jewelry store, and it was sitting on your finger. If that wasn’t enough to have your heart pounding nearly out of your chest, there was a gold band sitting next to it. You stared at the two rings, couldn’t tear your eyes from them. They were gorgeous, exactly what you would have wanted. You just wished you knew how they got there.

You pulled the gray down filled comforter covering Jensen’s California King sized bed around your naked body. It didn’t surprise you that you’d spent the night; you had been spending a lot of nights at Jensen’s house lately. You remembered the party. You had planned it with him, looked forward to it for weeks. It was your big debut in his world in a way. You had met some of his friends from Supernatural due to the conventions you’d been to over the months you’d been together. The plan had been to invite all his friends from the show as well as his local Austin friends that he knew from his brewery business, his involvement in local music festivals, and even some he’d known since high school.

You remembered Jensen playing the guitar, and you remembered him singing to you. It was a song from his latest album, a song he had written for you. Since Supernatural had wrapped, he’d devoted his time to music and directing. So far he had enjoyed his time away from being in front of the camera. That would be changing soon when the announcement came about a new project he had in the works with Kripke that would push him back into the bright lights. For the time being, it had given your relationship time to develop without the pressure of so much publicity. 

The memory of his voice from last night, the way he sang to you, the way he could make you feel like the only person in a room calmed you a little. It always did when you could feel the anxiety bubbling up inside you. When you actually heard his voice calling your name, it had the opposite effect for once. “Y/N, babe are you up?”

When Jensen came through the door, he was breathtaking just like he always was in your opinion. He was wearing one of those Henleys that Dean had so rarely worn, much to the chagrin of many fans. It clearly defined the muscles in his shoulders, chest, and arms. Your eyes were fixed on him while he walked across the room and sat down next to you, leaning in for a kiss. “How’s my beautiful wife this morning?”

You were still holding the comforter next to you like he���d never seen you naked before. He looked at your hands clutching the covers to your body and back to your face. “Y/N, is everything okay? What is it, baby?”

You feebly held up your hand with the new rings on it. Then your eyes landed on Jensen’s hand. There was a thick gold band there too. You picked up his hand and ran your fingers over his ring. “Jensen, are we...did we...get married?” You felt stupid asking because all the evidence was there.

Jensen was silent, then finally asked, “You don’t remember?”

You let go of his hand and sat back, shaking your head. “I remember you singing.” Your eyes were wide, searching Jensen’s. “We had a wedding?”

Jensen took your hands in his and started to rub his thumb over your knuckles.”We had a party; our friends were here, and I proposed to you.”

You started to shake your head harder. “I don’t…”

Jensen stopped moving his thumb. “You had two drinks last night. That’s it. That’s never made you drunk before, especially not so drunk that you don’t remember anything.”

You brought your newly wedded, ring laden finger to your mouth and started to nibble at your fingertip. “I took one of my anxiety pills last night because I was nervous about making a good impression for your friends. It must have interacted with the alcohol.” You looked around the room, over the bed and back to him. “I don’t remember you proposing to me. You proposed to me, and we got married the same night? How? I don’t remember any of it.” Your eyes started to fill with tears.

Jensen took you into his arms, turned so his back was against the headboard, and settled your head on his shoulder. “Shh, baby. We don’t have to stay married if you don’t want to. You were so happy; I thought it was what you wanted too. I didn’t know how out of it you were; I should have. I’m sorry.”

You raised your head quickly.  “Please don’t say you’re sorry. I do want to be married to you. I just want to know how it happened.”

Jensen guided your head back down to his shoulder. “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you all of it.” He stroked your hair and told you, “Breathe with me, okay?” You adjusted your breathing to the steady rhythm of his, and it calmed you.

Jensen held your head in his hand and started to tell the story. “I had planned this big, surprise proposal for you. Jared has been listening to me go on about it for weeks now.” Jensen chuckled and kissed your temple then went on. “I told you I had gotten you an early birthday present, and I gave you the envelope. You were so excited when you opened it and saw the plane tickets.”

You raised your head again. “You got me plane tickets? A trip?”

“Yeah. It was going to be a destination wedding. I had the ring in my pocket. It was in one of those fancy little boxes. I got down on one knee, opened it up and asked you to marry me.” Jensen laughed. “You dropped the tickets and started crying right there. After I put the ring on your finger, I stood up and held you until you stopped crying.” He ran his fingers through your hair. “You also did maybe say you love me once or twice.”

You whispered, “I wish I remembered.” Then your voice got even quieter. “I don’t even remember marrying you. How did it happen?”

“I was still holding you, even after your tears went away. I think we started swaying in each other’s arms; I just didn’t want to let you go,” he sighed, and it was a contented sound. “Rob started playing some music, and we started dancing. After a couple of minutes, I don’t know who it was, Briana maybe. Someone said, ‘Why are you waiting? Why don’t you get married now?’”

He rested his chin on top of your head and continued with the story. “We looked at each other, and I saw it in your eyes. We were thinking the same thing. That the destination wedding I had planned would be a great honeymoon. My friend Eric is a judge here in Austin. I’ve known him since high school, and he agreed to marry us.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. “What was the ceremony like?”

Jensen rubbed his hand soothingly down your back. “Tell you what. You want to take a little nap with me, then we’ll watch it together? Jared filmed the whole thing on his phone. I’ll ask him to send it to me. We can have our own private ceremony right here.”

Jensen knew how to bring you back from the edge of a downward spiral. Maybe it came from years of helping his best friend deal with depression and anxiety; he invariably knew how to make you feel better, no matter the circumstances. It also had a lot to do with how attentive he was with you; Jensen noticed everything.

You nodded against his shoulder. “Yeah. I want to see it with you.”

Jensen tipped your chin up with his finger so you were looking at him. “Rest first.” Then, he placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

Reluctantly, you pulled yourself away from the snug place he had created for you, cuddled next to him. “I’ll be right back.” You stopped on your way to the bathroom to grab a tank top and some panties from the drawer that was “yours” at his house. You stood staring at them in your hands for a couple of seconds because it hit you that all the drawers were yours now.

When you returned, Jensen was stripped down to his underwear. He was wearing black boxer briefs that you loved to see on him, no doubt he remembered that too. The covers were thrown back, and he was waiting for you to join him. You crawled in beside him;  he settled the bedding over you and opened his arms, beckoning you to him. You took your place, curling into his side, your head on his chest.

You opened your eyes a couple of hours later and had a momentary surge of panic when Jensen wasn’t next to you, until he opened the door carrying a champagne flute filled with what looked like strawberry yogurt. He handed it to you with a smile. “Just like a fancy hotel.” With his other hand, he brought a spoon from behind his back with a flourish. He dipped it into the yogurt and brought the spoon to your mouth. You opened your mouth so Jensen could feed you. It was, indeed, strawberry. You let the sweet, tangy taste cover your tongue, and Jensen stuck the spoon into the remaining yogurt. “Breakfast first, then we watch our wedding together.”

You couldn’t resist feeding Jensen a couple of spoonfuls of your yogurt, joking with him that he needed breakfast too. Really, you wanted the intimacy and simplicity of the moment. When the last bite was gone, Jensen put the glass and spoon on the bedside table and picked up his phone. He moved his fingers over the screen. When he found what he was looking for, he asked, “Are you ready?”

You looked at him for the longest time, not answering. The first thing you said wasn’t an answer, but instead, “Kiss me, Jensen.” He closed his eyes as his face moved in closer to yours, and when your lips met; your eyes were closed too. You were completely focused on his kiss, lost in it. He could ground your world; Jensen was your world.

When he broke the kiss, his fingers were lightly stroking your cheek. “I love you, Y/N.”

You slowly opened your eyes. “I love you too. I’m ready now.”

The two of you snuggled under the covers together and propped yourselves up against a massive number of pillows on the bed. Jensen held up the phone so you could watch last night’s events together. The first thing you saw was Jensen waving his hand at the camera. “C’mon, Jay. Get that thing out of my face. I’m nervous enough already.”

Jared’s voice answered. “This is for history. It’s the story of you and Y/N.” He centered the camera on Jensen’s face again. “Tell her what you’re thinking right now, but remember your kids will watch this one day.”

For a second, it looked like Jensen was going to fire back with some smart remark, but he stopped. His mouth softened first, his lips coming together, then his eyes filled with that far away look he got when he was withdrawing into the deepest part of himself where he kept his most private and treasured feelings. “Y/N, I love you. You’ve made me happy again, and I am so scared right now. Scared that I won’t be able to give you that kind of happiness back.” Jensen was silent for a minute, then he waved his hand good naturedly at Jared with a smile. “Now, get that thing away from me.”

You brushed tears from your eyes, and Jensen pressed pause so he could do it for you. “Hey, honey, it’s okay.”

“You were scared? Of not making me happy?” His thumb was still resting lightly on your cheekbone, and you put your hand over his. “You do. You make me happier than I’ve ever been.”

His eyes were a warm, deep crystal jade, and they were filled with more love than you had ever hoped to see returned to you. “I come with a lot of strings attached, strings that can be really hard to deal with.”

“So do I, Jensen, and you’re still here.” He smiled, kissed you, and pressed play again.

The next scene was near the pool where the caterers had set up tables laden with party finger foods as well as heartier fare. This was Texas, so brisket was a must at a gathering like this. Large potted plants and strings of twinkle lights had been added to the already gorgeous and immaculate landscaping.

All the new friends you’d made since you’d been with Jensen were gathered around, and he was sitting on a stool with his guitar propped on his thigh. You were standing beside him, and he was singing “The Man I’m Meant to Be”. It was the song he had written for you. 

This was the part of the night you remembered. He looked at you as he sang the last line. You are the one who changed me. He played the last chords to loud applause, and when he got up, put the guitar down, and kissed you; the applause got even louder. 

Jensen stood holding your arms and looking deeply into your eyes for a couple of seconds before he lowered himself down to one knee. He took that box he’d told you about from his pocket, looked up at you, and slowly opened it. “Y/N, it’s just like I said in the song. You’ve changed my life; you’ve changed me, made me better than who I was before I met you. I hope I can give you back just part of that and make you happy for the rest of your life. Would you let me try? Will you marry me?”

Your hands were cupped over your mouth and nose as you listened to him, your breath coming in deep gasps. Finally, you reached out to him, one hand still covering your face. He took your hand in his, still holding up the ring box in his other. “Jensen, I...I...Yes, I want to marry you.” He let go of your hand so he could take the ring from the box and slip it onto your finger. Then he stood and circled his arms around you, making the two of you an island in this group of people. 

You wished you could remember how that had felt. 

The video kept playing, and you heard the voice Jensen had mentioned. It sounded more like Kim to you than Briana, but the words clearly were, “Why don’t you just get married now?” 

You saw the way you and Jensen stopped and looked at each other. It was just like something out of a movie. The way he looked at you was making you feel butterflies gently stirring in your stomach right now. “What do you think? I can’t imagine anything better than not spending another day without you as my wife.”

You nodded and answered, “Let’s do it.” The smile on your face was so radiant, you almost didn’t recognize yourself. 

In the next scene, you were standing with Jensen in front of a man who must be his high school friend Eric, the judge. Jared was at Jensen’s side so it was unclear who was doing the filming now. Ruth had taken the place next to you to serve as your maid of honor. She had been so warm and welcoming to you when you had first shown up on the set of Supernatural in its last year. You’d quickly formed a friendship, and you couldn’t help but notice the subtle flirting that was going on between her and Jared, so this was probably also your way of giving them a nudge. 

There was no rehearsal, no weeks of shopping for the perfect dress, picking out the flowers that expressed just the right sentiment, choosing colors, selecting a menu, planning a guest list. Your wedding dress was the dress you’d chosen for the party. It was a blue, off the shoulder style with loose sleeves that fell just beneath your elbows trimmed in a wide ruffle. It made you think of the poem your grandmother used to tell you when you were a little girl. Married in blue, your love is true. Jensen’s shirt was blue too, such a deep navy it was almost black. It was one of your favorite colors on him, and he looked absolutely breathtaking. 

There had been no time to learn the traditional vows, not that you and Jensen would have said them anyway. There wasn’t much time to even think about writing your own, so everything you said to each other came from the heart. Jensen talked about the way you inspired him to always be better because that was what he saw in you, beauty that radiated from the inside, grace, kindness, and hope. He talked about how much you had given him, how much you brought to his life and made it richer.

The things he’d said to you were so beautiful. How could you have said anything that compared to that? What if you had said was unremarkable, ordinary? You moved in closer to him, and Jensen tightened his arm around you. Your hands were in his, and your voice sounded strong and sure when you started to talk. “Jensen, you are more than anything I ever dreamed of. You are incredible in every way. Talented, thoughtful, intelligent, handsome, and bigger than life. You’ve given a part of yourself to so many people, encouraged them, made them laugh, made them believe in themselves. You’ve changed more people than you even realize, but you are still so humble. I can’t quite comprehend you; you are that amazing and rare, but I do know how much I love you. I’ll be the best wife I can be for you. I promise.”

You finished talking, and Jensen leaned down to kiss your cheek. Then you put rings on each other as an outward symbol of your bond. Jensen had bought yours with your engagement ring as a set. That much was obvious when you looked down at your hand, but when Ruth gave you the ring for Jensen; you had no idea where it came from. You hadn’t bought him a ring. You turned to him, and he stopped the video. “Jensen, where did I get your ring?”

Jensen looked down at his hand and chuckled. “Jared had it. I mean he was still wearing it because he forgot to take it off after filming that day. Thank God, Walker is a grief stricken widower who refuses to stop wearing his wedding ring. I told him he’s not getting it back.”

Jensen’s ring was a prop. “Is it real? I mean is it actual gold?”

“I seriously doubt it; props usually aren’t that valuable. Could be though. Real stuff lasts longer.” He noticed you nibbling at your bottom lip. “Hey, it’s perfect. It tells the world I’m yours. You can get me whatever kind of ring you want, but for right now I’m wearing this one so everyone knows I’m your husband.”

“I want you to have something real. You should have a real ring.” 

He kissed you gently, just barely pushing his tongue into your mouth and letting it circle yours softly. “I have you.”

The rest of the video showed your first kiss as a married couple, the presentation of Jensen and Y/N Ackles to your assembled friends, and your first dance as husband and wife. There wasn’t a cake, so you fed each other chocolate covered strawberries. Your bouquet consisted of a floral arrangement taken from one the vases with the sash from Felicia’s dress tied around it. Your aim was good, and Ruth caught your bouquet just as you intended. That was the last of the video, and Jensen turned it off.

He put the phone on the table and turned to you to take you full into his arms. He kissed your mouth first and then left a long line of kisses along your jaw up to ear. He gently nibbled at the lobe. “Do you feel married now?”

“Jensen, what about last night? We made love, didn’t we?” He let go of your ear and sighed. “Tell me.”

“Yes, we did.” He threaded his fingers through yours to hold your hand. “It was amazing, everything it should be. Except that you don’t remember it.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it. I’ll make it up to you.” He shook his head. I should have known. I should have known something was off with you.”

“Don’t say that.” You ran the back of your hand along his jaw that was beginning to show the first signs of a shadow of scruff. “I wouldn’t change anything because then we wouldn’t be married right now.” Jensen examined your eyes for evidence of truth. He was satisfied with what he saw there because he smiled. “I do remember flashes of being here with you, in this bed.” The reality of the situation settled over your again, and you changed your wording. “Our bed.” 

You slid down under the sheets and tugged gently on his hand so he’d join you. “I remember you kissing me, and feeling safe. You were on top of me, and I can remember feeling wanted, loved, and safe.” He was on his side looking at you and listening to every word intently. “Jensen, I know everybody makes a big deal out of the wedding night, but could we have a wedding morning?”

He raised up and positioned himself over you, his face just inches from yours. “You can have anything you want, Mrs. Ackles.” He lowered himself that last short distance to your mouth. Your lips parted for him, and his tongue slowly explored your mouth. You circled one arm around his neck, fingers reaching up to feel the hair just above the nape of his neck. He was in no hurry, like you had forever. Jensen kissed you until your lips were pink and a little swollen from his attention.

Your lips weren’t the only ones that bore the evidence of your kissing. His lips were even fuller, even more enticing than they usually were. You lightly touched his bottom one, running your fingertip across it. “I want you, Jensen. Show me everything you did last night.” 

He caressed your body, worshipped it. He kissed all the places that made you shiver and tingle, tasted you, watched you come undone, sighed and groaned at the feel of your mouth on him, filled you, and made you cry out for more. 

Jensen. It was the only thought your mind was capable of having.

He held you in his arms after he had thoroughly loved you. His kisses were soft on your temple and your cheek. He whispered all the words in your ear that a bride should hear. He told you how beautiful you were, how much he loved you. Jensen told you he would always take care of you, and he told you he had never been so happy. He talked about the future you would have together. 

It was after he made a comment about wanting to know every single one of your dreams that you asked him if you could see the plane tickets. He knew traveling and seeing the world was one of your dreams. Jensen opened the drawer in the table on his side of the bed and pulled them out. He handed them down to you, and you glanced down to read the destination. Florence. He was taking you to Italy. “Oh, Jensen.” 

A smile crossed his face as he watched your reaction. “Will you marry me again there? You can have any kind of wedding you want, a wedding you’ll remember for the rest of your life.”

“You are perfect, Jensen Ackles, you know that?” His hair was a little longer on top now that he wasn’t Dean, and you ran your fingers through it. “I would love to do that.” You let yourself enjoy this moment in your husband’s arms, imagining the life you would have together. The sheer depth of the hope and possibility you were feeling could only be diminished by one thing, and that thing reared its ugly head. 

You had to let your family know you were married. Considering your mother’s reaction when she first found out you were dating Jensen that wasn’t something you were looking forward to doing. You could hear her words in your head now when you had shared your excitement about your new relationship with her. “Y/N, what are you thinking? Are you ready to be dragged through the tabloids?” It didn’t matter to her when you tried to explain that Jensen stayed out of the tabloids.

Her next attack had been about his past and how you could never be compatible with him. “You’re only twenty-nine years old, Y/N. He’s just playing with you. He’s at a totally different place in his life. He has an ex wife, don’t even get me started with all the problems that could cause, and three children. Do you actually think he’ll want more?” You’d listened, not even defending yourself, just like you had when you were a little girl. Saying you had a complicated relationship with your mother would be a polite understatement.

Jensen noticed the change in your mood. “What is it, sweetheart?” 

“Nothing. I’m just going to have to tell my family about this, about us being married, and I’m not looking forward to it, especially the conversation with my mom.” You refused to let her invade this most private space between the two of you. You’d deal with the family drama later. Right now you were going to enjoy the love this incredible man had brought into your life. 

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @winchesterxfamilybusiness @deansotherotherblog 

Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee @flamencodiva @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @sammit-janet​ @focusonspn​ @akshi8278​ @ladywinchester1967​ @sgarrett49​ @wingedcatninja​ @coffee-obsessed-writer​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @ellewritesfix05​ 

[highpope]

Silver Keys - Chapter Five

JJ Maybank x OC x Topper Thorton Soulmate AU

warnings: none, let me know if there ever are :)

notes: first, I know this took agesssss I'm sorry but I've been sitting on a couple chapters so you guys should be getting some updates for a while. Second, I lost my tag lists. so lmk if you want added to this one or my general tag list. I've been writing a lot more to cope with my anxiety so... things are coming bahaha. Love you guys, thanks for your support recently - J

Silver Keys Masterlist

June probably wouldn’t admit it to anyone besides her sister and Kie, but going out with Topper was fun. When he had asked her out to have dinner at the country club, she was worried she wouldn’t fit in at all. June was convinced she’d make it about 15 minutes before she bailed and met everyone back at the Chateau. She had on shoes she could barely walk in and a dress she found at goodwill, no doubt someone’s from a homecoming dance in years past and she was fighting the urge to pull her hair up all night. But then she realized they had talked straight through appetizers, dinner, and the waiter had come by twice for the check. The two of them had fallen into a comfortable understanding with each other that had continued into the following weeks.

He picked her up from work on most days, driving around in search of the perfect chocolate chip cookie. June argues that the small bakery run out of one of the local’s houses has the best cookies, but Topper is determined to try every option before making a decision. It had started as kind of a joke, but now it was just an excuse for them to hang out.

Currently, they were at the island’s movie night, chairs propped up near the back and various snacks shared between the two of them. Topper’s arm rested on her shoulders, something she had become accustomed to the past few weeks. June found herself more relaxed with him, it was easy being with Topper. She didn’t have to think or worry, June could just be.

They were playing The Sandlot, arguably the best movie of all time and June had to hold back from saying the iconic lines with the characters. She had grown up watching this movie with her sister and had practically begged Topper to go see it.

“Really?” He had asked the day before, “The movie nights aren’t really our thing.”

“Yeah, that’s because you guys always cause trouble and then get kicked out.”

He shook his head.

“Yes, you do. Besides, you’re gonna be with me and I am a model citizen.”

He laughed then and again in the chair beside her now.

She found herself leaning into him naturally, even with the arms of both their chairs in between them. It was something she had never had previously. June didn’t do relationships. In high school, she mostly stuck with the pogues and focused on school and not getting in trouble with the cops. Sure, she had the occasional crush or hookup with a touron, but nothing was ever serious. Not that this was, but it was closer to that than anything else June had experienced.

The next morning June had her last piano rehearsal with Mrs. Hana before the recital. The Saturday coming up was the big dress rehearsal. The one with the kids from all over the island and hundreds of different schools and programs. And the weekend following that was the recital. Her whole family was going. Her dad had even surprised her by getting a hotel room for all of them and making a whole trip about it. He had to work night shifts for two weeks, but he assured her it was worth it. Not that that added any pressure.

At rehearsal, June played nearly perfectly. She had only messed up a couple of notes near the end. She’d be lucky if Saturday went as smoothly as this. Mrs. Hana corrected her posture and made her go from the top. They went on like this the whole lesson: June playing and her correcting one thing at a time before making her start over. Normally, June would argue, but she knew it was because Mrs. Hana understood how important this was. This could set her future up, get her off the island if she wanted. She could do something she loved every day.

The night before the recital, June was laying on a hammock in John B’s backyard.

“Nervous?” Kie questions.

June shrugged, “Kinda, yeah.”

“I’m sure you’re going to do fine,” Pope said with confidence. It was only the three of them. John B and JJ had ventured out to get snacks and beer but hadn’t been back for an hour. June’s guess was they found a party and couldn’t bother to text an update. That or they got arrested. Which probably would’ve earned a phone call quicker than the first option. She chuckled thinking about this.

“It’s just a rehearsal and Liv is driving down with me so I don’t really have anything to worry about.”

“You seem to have this all figured out,” he said with a laugh.

Kie said, “And I cannot wait to celebrate when you get back! It’s gonna be so fun.”

June could only imagine what her best friend was thinking when she said this. She was sure it would end like most nights did, tipsy and watching movies on John B’s couch. Her favorite way to end a day. The three of them drift into a comfortable silence, lost in their thoughts. June starts to hear a familiar melody, but can’t quite put her finger on it. She was sure it wasn’t anything she had chosen to listen to, but couldn’t figure out where she had heard it before.

She was brought back to reality when John B and JJ come strutting into the yard, cases of beer on their shoulders and grocery bags in their hands. Kie and June both started cheering.

They set down the stuff on the closest table.

“What took so long?” Pope asked, getting up and rummaging through the bags. He pulls out a bag of chips before turning around.

“You’re not even going to believe it.” John B starts, taking a seat.

“Hey,” JJ yelled at June, “Gummies?” He asks and holds up a bag of gummy worms.

She nods her head and he tosses them over before grabbing his own snack and beer and joining her on the hammock. They all listen to JB’s story, JJ adding in his own variations and making everyone laugh.

“And who ended up being in front of us at the grocery store?” He paused for dramatic effect, “Sarah Cameron.”

June realized a beat late that she was supposed to be reacting, “Sarah Cameron!” she repeated.

JJ turned his head to keep from laughing.

“Am I supposed to be excited?” Kie asked, an annoyed expression on her face. She and Sarah used to be friends before they drifted into different friend groups.

“Yes, Kie. It was like fate.”

JJ spoke up, “I would hardly call it fate.”

John B just rolled his eyes at his friends and took another drink.

“What happened to Molly Fields?” Pope questioned. That was the girl we had gone to elementary school with, the latest victim of John B’s soulmate search.

“Nah,'' he dismissed, “This one’s different.”

“Well, I hope it is, JB,” June spoke up. He looked over and smiled at her.

The next morning June and Olivia jump in the car and start towards the concert hall where her dress rehearsal was being held. She had been up for hours, too excited and nervous to sleep. June had gotten ready, done her makeup, changed three times, and called Topper twice all before Olivia had even woken up. Downstairs, their mom had made some breakfast and June couldn’t bear to tell her she was too nervous to eat anything. So, she grabbed a pancake and thanked her parents.

They listened to music the whole way down, Liv was always determined to get June to listen to the most mainstream pop music she could. She always argued that she wouldn’t understand anyone’s references and it would be an embarrassing mess. June made sure to point out that she had made it 18 years without that ever happening, but nonetheless she persisted.

When they arrived, they parked the car and decided to window shop. They were still about an hour early from call time and Liv was restless enough as it was. June was trying to push her nerves down. She didn’t want to come across that way to the instructors. June had a vision that she would walk across the stage, take a deep breath, and be transported by the music. She didn’t want to have the weight of the competition on her shoulders or the constant confusion about her soulmate circling in her head. That was a new development. June found herself lying awake at night going over everything Topper had said or done and trying to place it into this mysterious soulmate cut out she had in her head. She was trying to do a puzzle with the wrong number of pieces. And she wasn’t even sure if it was the right picture on the box.

….

“Okay, turning the key a bunch of times isn’t going to do any good if the battery is dead,” Olivia said, snapping her head to look at June from the passenger side.

After the dress rehearsal, June had called Liv and the two of them had eaten in the cafeteria with a few other performers. June was practically glowing after being there for a few hours, she couldn’t imagine how she would feel at the actual recital. Everything was going perfectly.

Until they got back to the car and realized the battery was dead.

“Well,” June sighed, “I don’t know what else to do.” Her voice pinched.

“Can’t we call a mechanic?”

“Liv, you know we can’t afford that. Especially in this area. We just need a jump.”

She surveyed the empty parking lot and tried to think of what to do without panicking. They were too far from home to have someone just pick them up and there were no cars in sight. Even if there were, they didn’t have any jumper cables. Maybe they could take the bus home and get help tomorrow. June probably had enough cash in her purse for two bus tickets.

“Isn’t there like a trick with distilled water? That could get us somewhere.”

“You think I have distilled water in my car? Besides, I have no idea how to do that.”

“I’m just trying to give you ideas here,” Olivia said, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car.

June leaned her head back and closed her eyes, thinking and thinking.

She was interrupted when Olivia opened the driver’s side door and handed her the phone, “here.”

Confused, June lifted the phone to her ear, “hello?”

“June? What’s going on?” JJ’s voice was on the other end.

“J, we’re fine. Just a little car trouble.” She rolled her eyes at her sister.

“We’re stranded!” Olivia yelled so that he could hear.

“We’re fine,” she said, shooting her sister a look.

JJ speaks up, “Doesn’t sound fine. June, I’ll just come out and help. No problem.”

“No, no. We just need a jump-”

“I’m already in the car, just send me your location.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, but I’m going to.”

Defeated, June agrees and sends him the address of the music hall.

About 45 minutes later, JJ pulls into the parking spot opposite of them, “Hey,” he says as he turns the key and gets out of the car.

“Oh thank god! JJ, do you have AC? I’m melting.” Olivia yells. She’s already getting in his truck and rotating the fans to blow her hair back before he can process what she’s just said.

“I’m sorry,” June starts, but he interrupts her.

“Eh, no big deal”

“I can give you gas money for coming all the way out here.”

He shakes his head, “Nah. Here catch.” JJ throws one end of the jumper cables to her, “You know how to put them on?”

June scoffs, “This isn’t my first jump, Maybank.”

Once everything is sorted out with June’s car, the three of them drive to the nearest ice cream shop. Mostly because Olivia was being dramatic and promised to pay for herself, but also to thank JJ for driving the whole way out here just to get them home.

“I don’t know, it’s like what if my soulmate doesn’t like ice cream? Ew, or worse, orders mint chocolate chip.” Olivia said as they headed to a table outside. The spot they had picked was really nice, there were picnic tables with umbrellas lined up on a patio in front of the window they had ordered from.

June just laughed, a conversation the two of them had had more than once.

“What’s wrong with mint chocolate chip?” JJ asked.

Olivia made a face, “only everything.”

“Isn’t the whole point of a soulmate that you overlook those flaws and-”

“Please. Don’t lecture me.” She begs.

“She’s kinda right though,” JJ replies, looking at June for a second and scrunching his nose. She smiles back, looking down at her ice cream.

“Have you heard it?” She asks him.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, “the other night at John B’s.” He meets June’s eyes. “I fell asleep on the pullout and the storm woke me up. So I was just laying awake and that’s when I heard it. It was really faint. Mad weird though,” He finished and took a bite of his ice cream, making June shudder.

She remembered the night he was talking about. It had stormed for about two days last week. She thought about what she was probably doing at the time, practicing for the recital, maybe reading until

she drifted off.

“Do you think you know who it is?” Olivia inquired.

He shook his head, “No, haven’t thought about it.”

“You don’t wanna know?”

“I mean, sure. But if I’m gonna find out anyway by force of,” he struggled for the right word before landing on, “the universe, then why stress right now?”

That answer seemed to have satisfied her enough because she nodded her head and stopped asking questions.

When she finally pulled into her driveway, June had a phone call.

The three of them had left shortly after ice cream, JJ following them most of the way back before he went off towards John B’s and June continued straight, with a quick wave behind her.

Olivia had practically jumped out of the car before she had even parked so now, June answered her phone, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Hey,”

“Hey!” Topper said on the other end, “I wanted to see how everything went. I stopped by your house just a little bit ago, but your car wasn’t in front.”

June groaned, “That’s because we just now pulled in. The practice was great! Everyone was so talented and I got to meet a couple of instructors. It was really cool.”

“That’s amazing, bub.”

“Yeah, it really was.”

“What took you so long getting home?”

“Oh, uh. I just had some car trouble, no biggie.”

“Oh, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just needed a quick jump and then we were on our way.” June chuckled, nervously. She hadn’t even thought to call Topper when her car wouldn’t start. Truthfully she hadn’t thought to call anyone, but she still felt nervous to tell him what happened.

“So someone had cables? That’s pretty lucky.” He pressed.

“Uhm. No, actually. We had to call JJ for some help and then we were good to go. It drove perfectly on the way home.”

There was a pause before he spoke again, “You could’ve called or texted me.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. I wasn’t even the one who called JJ, it was Liv.”

“Well, I could’ve helped.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“I would’ve called a mechanic for you, had someone come out and get you.”

“And I would have really appreciated it,” June laughed nervously, “Next time I promise I will call you.”

He stayed silent for a long time before speaking, “It’s just your first thought wasn’t to call your boyfriend. Forgive me if I’m a little upset.”

She pondered over his words for a moment, skipping over the mention of ‘boyfriend,’ “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come off that way.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “yeah, you’re right. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

June nodded even though he couldn’t see her and hung up the phone. She huffed, threw her phone in her bag, and marched up the sidewalk inside.

[star-anise]

An ask I got recently:

hi so i’m a transmed and i’m not sure if you’ll answer this because of that but i saw your post about transmedicalism and was wondering if you could expand on that? you seem like a genuinely kind and judgement-free person, thank you darling x

My response:

Heh, you call me “judgement-free” and ask for my opinion on a topic I’ve formed a lot of judgments about… I get it though, I’m not into attacking people for what they believe so much as providing FACTS. As a cis queer, my insight into transmedicalism isn’t really about the innate experience of trans-ness so much as using my education and professional experience to talk about social science research, diagnostic systems, and public health policy.

This ended up really long, so the tl;dr is, I think transmedicalism as I understand it:

Misunderstands why and how the DSM’s Gender Dysphoria diagnosis was written,

Treats the medical establishment with a level of trust and credibility it doesn’t deserve, at a time when LGBT+ people, especially trans people, need to be informed and vigilant critics of it, and

Approaches the problem of limited resources in an ass-backwards way that I think will end up hurting the trans community in the long run.

TW: Transphobia; homophobia; suicide; institutionalization; torture; electroshock therapy; child abuse; incidental mentions of pedophilia.

So first off I’m guessing you mean this post, about not trusting the medical establishment to tell you who you are? That’s what I’m trying to elaborate on here.

I have to admit, when you say “I’m a transmedicalist” that tells me very little about you, because on Tumblr the term seems to encompass a dizzying array of perspectives. Some transmedicalists believe in what seems to me the oldschool version of “The only TRUE trans people suffer agonizing dysphoria that can only be fixed with surgery and hormones, everyone else is an evil pretender stealing resources and can FUCK RIGHT OFF” and others are like, um… “I have total love and respect for nonbinary and nondysphoric trans people! I qualify for a DSM diagnosis of dysphoria but that doesn’t make me inherently better or more trans than anyone else.”

Which is very confusing to me because according to everything I’ve learned, the latter opinion is not transmedicalism. It’s just… a view of transness that acknowledges current diagnostic labels and scientific research. It’s what most people who support trans rights and do not identify as transmedicalists believe. But I kind of get the impression that Tumblr transmedicalism has expanded well past its original mandate, to the point that if a lot of “transmedicalists” saw the movement’s original positions they’d go “Whoa that’s way too strict and doesn’t help our community, I want nothing to do with it.”.

Okay so. Elaborating on the stuff I can comment on.

1. DSM what?

The American Psychiatric Association publishes a big thick book called The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, called the DSM for short. This is the “Bible of psychiatry”, North America’s definitive listing of mental disorders and conditions. It receives significant revision and updates roughly every 10-15 years; it was last updated in 2013, meaning it will likely get updated sometime between 2023 and 2028.

The DSM lists hundreds of “codes”, each of which indicates a specific kind of mental disorder. For example, 296.23 is “Major depressive disorder, Single episode, Severe,” and  300.02 is “Generalized anxiety disorder.” These codes have information on how common the condition is, how it’s diagnosed, and what kind of treatment is appropriate for it.

Diagnostic codes are the key to health professionals getting paid. If there isn’t a code for it, we can’t get paid for it, and therefore we have very few resources to treat it with. The people who actually pay for healthcare–usually insurance companies or government agencies–decide how much they will pay for each code item to be treated. They’ll pay for, say, three sessions of group therapy for mild depression (296.21), or they’ll pay for more expensive private therapy if it’s moderate (296.22); they’ll pay for the cheap kind of drug if you have severe depression (296.23), but to get the more expensive drug, you need to have depression with psychotic features (296.24).

Healthcare companies, especially in the USA where the system is very very broken and the DSM is written, are cheap bastards. If they can find an excuse not to fund some treatment, they’ll use it. “We think this person who lost their job and can’t get off the couch should pay this $1000 bill for therapy,” they’ll say. “After all, they were diagnosed as code 296.21, and then saw a private therapist for five sessions, when we only allow three sessions of group therapy, and you’re saying they haven’t had enough treatment yet?”

A lot of the advocacy work mental health professionals do is trying to get the big funding bodies to pay us adequately for the work we do. (This is a much easier process in countries with single-payer healthcare, where this negotiation only needs to be done with a single entity. In the USA, it needs to be done with every single health insurance company in existence, as well as the government, sometimes differently in every single state, and then again on a case-by-case basis as well.) Healthcare providers have to argue that three sessions of group therapy isn’t enough, that Medicaid needs to pay therapists more per hour than it costs those therapists to rent a room to practice in, or else therapists would lose money by seeing Medicaid clients. DSM codes exist a tiny bit to let us communicate with each other about the people we treat, and a huge amount to let us get paid. The fact that their existence lets people make sense of their own experiences and find a community with people who share common experiences and interests with them is a very minor side benefit the DSM’s authors really don’t keep in mind when they update and revise different diagnoses.

So when it comes to convincing insurance companies to pay for treatment, humanitarian reasons like “they’ll be very unhappy without it” tend not to work. The best argument we have for them paying for psychological treatment is that it’s economical: that if they don’t pay for it now, they’ll have to pay even more later. If they refuse to pay, let’s say, $2000 to treat mild depression when someone loses their job, and either refuse treatment or stick the person with the bill, then that person’s life might spiral out of control–they might, let’s say, run low on money, get evicted from their apartment, develop severe depression, attempt suicide, and end up in hospital needing to be medically resuscitated and then put in an inpatient psych ward for a month. The insurance company then faces the prospect of having to pay, let’s say, $100,000 for all that treatment. At which point somebody clever goes, “Huh, so it would have been cheaper to just… pay the original $2000 instead so they could bounce back, get a new job, and not need any of this treatment later.”

Trans healthcare can be kind of expensive, since it often involves counselling, years of hormone therapy, medical garments, and multiple surgeries. Health insurance companies hate paying for anything, and have traditionally wanted not to cover any of this. “This is ridiculous!” they said. “These are elective cosmetic treatments, it’s not like they’re dying of cancer, these people can pay the same rate for breast enhancements or testosterone injections as anyone else.”

So when the APA Task Force on Gender Identity Disorder (a task force comprised, as far as I can tell, entirely of cis people) sat down to plan for the 2013 update of the DSM, one of their biggest goals was: Treatment recommendations. Create a diagnosis which they could effectively use to advocate that insurance companies fund gender transition. Like when you go back and read the documents from their meetings in 2008 and 2011, their big thing is “create a diagnosis that can be used to form treatment recommendations.” So that’s what they did; in 2013 they made the GD diagnosis, and in 2014 the Affordable Care Act required insurers to provide treatment for it.

A lot of trans people weren’t happy with the DSM task force’s decisions, such as the choice to keep “Transvestic Fetishism,” which is basically the autogynephilia theory, and just rename it “Transvestic Disorder”. The creation of the Gender Dysphoria diagnosis, basically, was designed to force the preventive care argument. They didn’t think they could win on trans healthcare being a necessity because healthcare is a human right, so they went with: Trans people have a very high suicide rate, and one way to bring it down is to help them transition. One of the major predictors of suicidality is dysphoria. The more dysphoric someone is, the more likely they are to attempt suicide (source).  Therefore, health insurers should fund treatment for gender dysphoria because it was cheaper than paying for emergency room admissions and inpatient psychiatric hospitalizations.

I have spoken to trans scientists about what research exists, and my understanding is: The dysphoria/no dysphoria split is not actually validated in the science. That is, when you research trans people, there is not some huge gaping difference between the experiences, or brains, of people With Dysphoria, and people Without Dysphoria. Mostly, scientists haven’t even thought it was an important distinction to study. The diagnosis wasn’t reflecting a strong theme in the research about trans experiences; that research showed that trans people with all levels of dysphoria were helped with medical transition. The biggest difference is just that dysphoria is a stronger risk factor for suicide. Experiencing transphobia is another strong risk factor, but that’s harder to measure in a doctor’s office, so dysphoria it was.

(I’ve seen some transmedicalists claim that dysphoria’s major feature is incongruence, not distress. And I’ll just say, uh… in psychology, “dysphoria” is the opposite of of “euphoria”, literally means “excessive pain”, and is used in many disorders to describe a deep-seated sense of distress and wrongness. As a mental health professional, I just can’t imagine most of my colleagues agreeing that something can be called “dysphoria” if the person doesn’t feel real distress about it. If you want a diagnosis that doesn’t demand dysphoria, you’d need Gender Incongruence in the upcoming version of the ICD-11, which is the primary diagnostic system used in Europe, published by the World Health Organization.)

2. Doctors are not magic

Medicine is a science, and science is a system of knowledge based on having an idea, testing it against reality, and revising that knowledge in light of what you learned. We’re learning and growing all the time.

I don’t know if this sounds painfully obvious or totally groundbreaking, but: Basically all medical research is done by people who don’t have the condition they’re writing about. Psychology has a strong historical bias against believing the personal testimonies of people with conditions that have been deemed mental disorders, so researchers who have experienced the disorder they’re writing about have often had to hide that fact, like Kay Redfield Jamison hiding that she had bipolar disorder until she became a world-renowned expert on it, or Marsha Linehan hiding that she had borderline personality disorder until she pioneered the treatment that could effectively cure it. Often, having a condition was seen as proof you couldn’t actually have a truthful and objective experience of it.

So what I’m trying to say is: The “gender dysphoria” diagnosis was written and debated, so far as I can tell, by entirely cis committee members. The vast majority of psychological and psychiatric research about LGBT+ people is written by cisgender heterosexual scientists. Most clinical and scientific writing has been outsider scientists looking at people they have enormous power over and making decisions about their basic existence with very little accountability.

And to show you how far we’ve come, I want to show you part of the DSM as it was from 1952 to 1973. It shows you just why so many older LGBT+ people find it deeply ironic that now the DSM is being held up as definitive of trans experience:

302 Sexual Deviation This category is for individuals whose sexual interests are directed primarily toward objects other than people of the opposite sex, toward sexual acts not usually associated with coitus, or towards coitus performed under bizarre circumstances as in necrophilia, pedophilia, sexual sadism, and fetishism. Even though many find their practices distasteful, they remain unable to substitute normal sexual behavior for them. This diagnosis is not appropriate for individuals who perform deviant sexual acts because normal sexual objects are not available to them.

302.0 Homosexuality 302.1 Fetishism 302.2 Pedophilia 302.2 Transvestitism […]

Yes, really. That is how psychiatry viewed us. At a time when research from other fields, like psychology and sociology, were showing that this view was completely unsupported by evidence, psychiatry thought LGBT+ people were fundamentally disordered, criminal, and incapable of prosocial behaviour.

My favourite retelling of the decades of activism it took LGBT+ people and allies to get the DSM to change is from a friend who did her master’s thesis on the topic, because she leaves in the clown suits and gay bars, which really shows how scientific and dignified the process was. The long story short is:  It took over 20 years of lobbying by LGBT+ people who were sick and tired of being locked up in mental institutions and subjected to treatments like electroshock training, as well as by LGBT+ social scientists, clinicians, and psychiatrists, to get homosexuality declassified as a mental illness. And that was homosexuality; the push to change how trans people were listed in the DSM is very recent, as seen in the latest version listing “Transvestic Disorder”, a description very few trans people ever use for themselves.

Here are a few more examples of how people with a condition have had to take an active part in the science about them:

When HIV/AIDS appeared in the USA, the government didn’t care why drug addicts and gay people were dying mysteriously. Hospitals refused to treat people with this mysterious new disease. AIDS patients had to fight to get any funding put into what AIDS is, how it spreads, or how it could be treated; they also had to campaign to change the massive public prejudice against them, so they could be treated, housed, and allowed to live. Here’s an article on the activist tactics they used. If you want an intro to the fight (or at least, white peoples’ experience of it), you could look into the movies How to Survive a Plague, And the Band Played On, and The Normal Heart.

Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS) is a little-understood disease that causes debilitating exhaustion. It’s found twice as often in women as men. Doctors understand very little about what it is or why it happens, and patients with CFS are often written off a lazy hypochondriacs who just don’t want to try hard. There are basically no known treatments. In 2011, a British study said that an effective treatment for CFS was “graded exercise”, a program where people did slowly increasing levels of physical activity. This flew in the face of what people with CFS knew to be true: That their disease caused them to get much worse after they exercised. That for them, being forced to do ever-increasing exercise was basically tantamount to torture, so it was very concerning that health authorities and insurance companies began requiring that they undergo graded exercise treatment (and parents with children with CFS had to put their children through this treatment, or lose custody for “medical neglect”). So they investigated the study, found that it was seriously flawed, got many health authorities to reverse their position on graded exercise, and have made strides into pointing researchers to looking into biological causes of their illness.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) is a rare but debilitating disease that isn’t researched much, because it affects such a small portion of the population. The ALS community realized that if they wanted better treatment, they would need to raise the money for research themselves. In 2014 they organized a viral “ice bucket challenge” to get people to donate to their cause, and raised $115 million, enough to make significant advances in understanding ALS and getting closer to a cure.

A common treatment for Autism is Applied Behaviour Analysis (ABA), which is designed to encourage “desired” behaviours and discourage “undesired” ones. The problem is, the treatment targets behaviour an Autistic person’s parents and teachers consider desirable or undesirable, without consideration that some “undesired” behaviours (like stimming) are fundamental and necessary to the wellbeing of Autistic people. Furthermore, the treatment involves punishing Autistic children for failure to behave as expected–in traditional ABA, by witholding rewards or praise until they stop, or in more extreme cases, by subjecting them to literal electric shocks to punish them. (In that last case, they’ve been ordered to stop using the shock devices by August 31, 2020. That only took YEARS.) Autistic people have had to campaign loud and long to say that different treatment strategies should be researched and used, especially on Autistic children.

So I mean… I get that the medical model can provide an element of validation and social acceptance. It can feel really good to have people in white coats back you up and say you’re the real deal. But if you get in touch with most LGBT+ and transgender groups, they’d say that there’s still a lot of work to be done when it comes to researching trans issues and getting scientific and governmental authorities to recognize your rights to social acceptance and medical treatment.

Within a few years, the definition you’re resting on will turn to sand beneath your feet. The Great DSM Machine will begin whirring into life pretty soon and considering what revisions it has to make. You’ll have an opportunity to make your voice heard and to push for real change. So… do you want to be part of that process of pushing trans rights forward, or do you just want to feel loss because they’re changing your strict definition of who’s valid and who’s not?

3. Scarcity is not a law of physics

One of the major arguments I see transmedicalists push is that there’s only a limited number of surgeries or hormone prescriptions available, so it’s not okay for a non-dysphoric person to “steal” the resources that another trans person might need more. This makes sense in a limited kind of way; it’s a good way to operate if, say, you’re sharing a pizza for lunch and deciding whether to give the last slice to someone who’s hungry and hasn’t eaten, or someone who’s already full.

When you start to back up and look at really big and complex systems–basically anything as big, or bigger, than a school board or a hospital or a municipal government–it’s not a helpful lens anymore. Because the most important thing about social institutions is that they can change. We can make them change. And the most important factor in how much the world changes is how many people demand that it change.

I’ve talked about this before when it comes to homeless shelters, and how the absolute worst thing they can have are empty beds. I used to work in women’s shelters, which came about when second-wave feminists started seriously looking at the problem of domestic violence in the 1960s and 70s, It was an issue male-dominated governments and healthcare systems hadn’t taken seriously before, but feminists started heck and did research and staged demonstrations and basically demanded that organizations that worked for the “public benefit” reduce the number of women being killed by their husbands. Their research showed that the leading cause of death in those cases were when women tried to leave and their partners tried to kill them, so the most obvious solution was to give them someplace safe to go where their partners couldn’t find them. Therefore the solution became: Women’s shelters. When feminists committed to founding and running these shelters, local governments could be talked into giving them money to keep them running.

(Men’s rights activists, the misogynist kind, like to whine about “why aren’t there men’s shelters?” and the very simple answer is: Because you didn’t fight for them, you teatowels. Whether a movement gets resources and funding is hugely a reflection of how many people have said, “This needs resources and funding! Look, I’m writing a cheque! Everyone, throw money at this!” In other news, The BC Society for Male Survivors of Sexual Abuse does great work. People should throw money at them.)

When the system in power knows there are resources it wants and doesn’t have, it finds a way to make them appear. For example, in Canada, the government knows that it doesn’t have enough trained professionals living in its far North, where the population is scarce and not very many people want to live. Doctors and teachers would prefer to live in the southern cities. But because it’s committed to Northern schools and hospitals, they create incentives. For example, the government offers to pay off the student loans of teachers or health professionals who agree to work for a few years in Northern communities.

Part of why trans healthcare resources are so scarce is that for a long time, trans people were considered too small a part of the population to care about. Like, “Trans people exist, but we won’t have to deal with them.” Older estimates said 0.4% of the population was trans, which meant a city of 100,000 people would have 400 trans people. A single family doctor can have 2000 or 3000 clients, so the city could have maybe 1 or 2 doctors who really “got” trans issues, and all the trans people would tell each other to only go see those doctors because all the rest were assholes. And the cracks in the system didn’t really seem serious. A couple hundred dissatisfied people not getting the healthcare they needed? Meh! Hospital administrators had more to worry about!

But the trans population is growing. A recent poll of Generation Z said 2.6% of middle schoolers in Minnesota were some kind of trans. which is 2,600 per 100,000. That’s enough to make hospitals think that maybe the next endocrinologist or OB/GYN they hire should have some training in treating trans people. That’s enough to make a health authority think that maybe the state should open up a new gender confirmation surgery clinic, since demand is rising so much.

Or well, I mean. Hospitals have a lot on their minds. This might not occur to them as their top priority. They’d probably think of it a lot sooner if a bunch of those trans people sent them letters or took out a billboard or showed up by the dozens at a public meeting to say, “Hello, there are a fuckload of us. Budget accordingly. We want to see your projected numbers for the next five years.”

When you’re doing that kind of work, suddenly it hurts your cause to limit your number of concerned parties. Sure, limited focus groups or steering committees can have limited membership, but when you put their ideas into action, to protest something or lobby for political change, you need numbers. If you want to show that you’re a big and important group that systems should definitely pay attention to, you don’t just need every trans or GNC or NB person who’s got free time to devote to your campaign, you also need every cis ally who can pad out numbers or lick envelopes or hand out water bottles or slip you insider information about the agenda at the next board meeting. You need bodies, time, and money, and you get them best by being inclusive about who’s in your party. Heck, if it would benefit your cause to team up with the local breast cancer group because trans women and cis women who have had mastectomies both have an interest in asking a hospital to have a doctor on staff who knows how to put a set of tits together, then there are strong reasons to do it.

Basically: All the time any marginalized group spends fighting over scraps is generally time we could spend demanding that the people handing out the food give us another plate. If you don’t think you’re getting enough, the best answer isn’t to knock it out of somebody’s hands, but to get together to say, “HEY! WE’RE NOT GETTING ENOUGH!”

That kind of work is complicated and difficult! It’s definitely much harder than yelling at someone on Tumblr for not being trans enough. But if you do any level of getting involved with activist groups that fight for real systemic change, whether that’s following your local Pride Centre on Twitter or throwing $5 at a trans advocacy group or writing your elected representative about the need for more trans health resources, you’re pushing forward lasting change that will help everyone.

[dukeofonions]

Season Two Episode Ranking

Warning: I get very, very, very, critical in this ranking. Like, angry ranting that’s almost laughable. Should I be getting this worked up over an online series? Eh, probably not. But this is my life and I’ll get outrageously angry over whatever media I want. 

Seriously though, this is all just my personal opinion. I’m not saying you have to agree with me and if you like the episodes that I don’t then that’s perfectly fine. 

I tend to overthink things a lot and I spend most of my time analyzing every little details of this series because what else am I supposed to do at work?

So yeah, this ranking is definitely less positive than the one I did for the first season. But I hope y’all can still have some fun going over it! And if anyone does their own rankings be sure to tag me because I’d love to see them and see how mine compare! 

Anyways, enough of me acting like this is more important than it is, on with the ranking! 

I can’t believe season two only has 12 episodes. Now I went ahead and counted Moving On as one episode in this ranking since my opinions on both parts are pretty similar, but sweet cheese and fish this season started on September 1st, 2017 with Fitting in and right now is left on Putting Others First which came out on May 1st, 2020. And as of me writing this it is now May 2nd, 2021. It’s been a whole year since the last episode and we still have no idea when the finale is coming. 

Like, bruh. 

Also remember how the longest episode in season one was only about 15 minutes long and the shortest one was barely four minutes? 

Well the shortest episode in season two is Crofters- The Musical which is 8:42 seconds. The longest episode is Putting Others First which is a whopping 51:09.

And I wish I could say that the writing was on the same level it was in the first season, but there’s a reason I put that warning up there. 

Well, enough stalling, let’s get this ball rolling.

#11 Embarrassing Phases

There are no words in the English language that can describe the sheer amount of hatred I have for this episode. If I could rank this any lower, I would, which will happen once we finally get the season finale. I don't know how that episode will go but it'll definitely be better than whatever dumpster fire this was.

Like, okay. I have some positives. Roman, Patton, and Virgil's costumes were cool. I won't lie I live for vampire Virgil. And the message about embracing your past "phases" and exploring how they helped made you who you are. That's neat. I like that.

And that's it.

My biggest gripe with this episode is Virgil. He just acts like a complete bitch in this! And I don't mean that in an endearing way he's literally so mean for no reason!

He's all "You guys are trivializing my past!"

In response to them going "Hey Virgil, we're glad you're part of our group now and are proud of how far you've come!"

Like okay, even if it was insensitive to call it a "phase" literally there was no reason for him to get as angry as he did.

Just a simple; "Hey, I don't like it when you refer to what I went through as a phase because it feels like you're not talking it seriously."

Isnt that what this whole show is about? Communication???

It wasn't fun watching him just insulting the others, it was annoying!

Like poor Patton, just trying to help and be encouraging, only for Virgil to keep treating him like dirt.

What did I miss here? Virgil was fine in the last few episodes, so what the heck happened?

Oh and let's not forget the great advice Thomas offers Patton at the end of the episode in regards to handling Virgil: "Don't do anything to get on his bad side or else he'll do bad things to you!"

Okay I'm paraphrasing here but that's basically what he says! And since Virgil is supposed to be a representation of anxiety, this is a horrible message!!!

What happened to finding healthy ways to cope with your anxiety? What happened to keeping it in check so it didn't take over your life?

Yeah I'm definitely gonna make a full post about this one episode later because there's a whole lot more to unpack here. But yeah -10/10

#10 Putting Others First

There is just way too much going on with this episode. They try cramming so much in here that I don't even remember more than half of it.

I remember the opening song, then the Lilypadton fight and everything that happens from there. That's it.

And those are the best parts of this episode, but even that has problems because everything with Janus feels like a completely different episode.

Also the whole way they try to teach about morality is all over the place. How did we go from choosing a wedding over a callback to deciding whether or not you would die for your friends to self care is important?

And while the video game sequences, while utilized well in some places, were way too distracting and it felt like they were just trying to shove as many video game references in as they could.

You could take out just about all of them and the episode wouldn't change. Everything they were used for could have been done just through having the characters talk to each other, and knowing this makes the fact that this video was delayed for so long because of it just makes the whole thing worse.

Like the animations were well done, and I don't want to downplay the hard work the animator did. They were just doing their job after all.

But the trolley scenes (especially the second one) hurt my eyes with all the flashing (would have been nice to have some kind of warning for that) and some of the voice effects (especially on Logan's) were grating and distracting.

I want to rank this episode higher, but it has almost zero rewatch ability and honestly besides the ending, when I first watched this episode I was just kinda let down.

#9 Crofters- The Musical

Okay look, the song is a bop and I adore the fact that Logan and Roman got two episodes in the spotlight, but it's just kinda "meh" to me. Plus I get just a tinge of second hand embarrassment but that's just me.

And I know this is kinda unfair but another reason why this one isn't higher is because of a couple of things. One is that they set up some angst for Roman, he's clearly not doing well and Thomas thinks the best thing to do is tell him that he might get his own jam flavor.

Then he does, and instead of following up on that little plot point from this video, they just rushed out a commercial and completely ignored and potential story telling or character development for Roman.

So yeah "Return of the Jam" is the main reason why I don't like this one as much as I used to. And I actually just got an idea for a new post comparing these two so add that to my to-do list.

#8 Fitting In

I actually skipped this one during my first official watch through for one reason and one reason alone: I wasn't allowed to watch Harry Potter.

But I realized that my parents wouldn't approve of me of watching a gay man's content either so I just said screw it.

And luckily I understood enough Harry Potter references to get what they were talking about and honestly, this episode is a lot of fun.

It's a good follow up to Accepting Anxiety, and a nice way to kick off season two. Virgil is finding his place among the group and everyone is trying their best to make him feel welcome, it's really sweet.

And of course we get the new costumes (which i hadn't even noticed that they were wearing their old costumes at first) and I dunno it just gives off season one vibes and it makes me happy.

#7 Moving On Part One/Moving On Part Two

Yeah honestly my thoughts on both parts of this episode are the same. What can I say? It's really good.

This definitely one of the more emotionally heavy episodes in the series, and we see the characters at their lowest for really, the first time in this series.

I adore Patton's room and how each side gets their own corners. All the little details they add in, including the changing picture in the background, it really gives off that nostalgia feel they were going for.

What I love most about this episode is how (unlike some other episodes) they actually let the emotional moments sink in and don't throw in a joke immediately after. Like the ending is bittersweet, sad almost, and I love that they stuck with the mood up until the episode ended.

Not to say there weren't some jokes here and there (mostly in the first part) but once the mood shifts and things become more serious they let that mood stay. And when there are jokes they all work really well.

This is one episode I've actually watched the least out of season two, so it'll be interesting when I go watch it again to see if any of this holds up.

#6 Why Do We Get Out of Bed in the Morning?

Honestly I only put this one above Moving On because Logan and Roman are my favorites.

This episode is actually one of the weaker ones, which hurts to say because again, favorite characters, but goodness it's all over the place. It feels like a precursor to POF and not in a good way.

Logan and Roman just basically argue back and forth throughout the whole episode, never seeing eye to eye with each other, to the point where I think think the writers realized they couldn't find a way to get these two to agree so they just had Thomas step in and be like, "You guys make a really good team!"

Dude, were you even paying attention? They never even reached a conclusion on their own. And even though they have their little moment at the end, it's all kinda ruined when nothing in their relationship changes.

Yes, in Learning New Things About Ourselves, they acknowledge that there's more work to be done in regards to them, which makes sense. People aren't going to suddenly change overnight.

Yet despite having come to some kind of understanding with each other twice now (both here and LNTAO) in the following episodes they still act like they hate each other! Heck Roman is downright nasty to him for seemingly no reason and I don't really blame him for it.

More like I think the writers just don't know how to develop their relationship and just aren't as interested in them as the others. Logan's been reduced to being Mr. Exposition and apparently Roman's personal issues aren't enough for him to carry a room episode on his own because they felt the need to introduce two new characters before he finally gets it.

Sorry, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, the episode.

There's some funny bits here and there and the little animations are cute (even if unnecessary) but really it's only saving grace is being Roman and Logan centered.

Even though they felt the need to include a cameo from literally every other character because apparently no one has any faith that Logan and Roman can carry an episode on their own.

#5 The Sanders Sides 12 Days of Christmas

This episode is just pure fun. Look, I'm not a big fan of Christmas, even less of a fan of Christmas songs, but my gosh this episode almost makes me appreciate the season.

The way they're all just bickering the whole time, being very confused, and how there's just so much personality from each character even when they're not talking/singing and just being in the background is *chef's kiss* perfect.

There's so many fun little details to pick out during the song and it's fun to go back and watch how each side reacts to different things.

#4 Selfishness vs Selflessness

Gonna be real, this used to be my favorite episode. Until my overly critical brain started finding all kinds of problems in the writing department but I think I’ve been negative enough on this post so I’ll save it for another time. 

Janus steals the show in this one, it’s his first official appearance since his debut and he just soaks up the spotlight. It’s refreshing to have an antagonist in the show again, and he’s the perfect foil for each of the original Sides. 

He knows how to play into Roman’s insecurities, know how to feed into his ego and get him on his side. He’s in direct opposition to Patton, who believes that everything Janus represents is wrong. He’s able to silence Logan and take him out of the conversation, speaking over him most of the time. 

And I guess he and Virgil have some beef I dunno. 

The courtroom scenario is fun, and I love how Janus is the only one who sees how ridiculous it is (even though it was your idea in the first place, Jan) and everyone else seeing it as perfectly normal is hilarious. 

I do like some of the more dramatic moments in this episode, especially that final bit with Janus questioning Thomas until he finally gets him to admit the truth. It was intense and reminded me of the scene where Janus confronts Roman in a similar manner. 

While far from perfect this is still a good episode and I can find a lot to love about it, like Janus in a suit. 

#3 Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts

This episode scared the shit out of me and I loved it.

Okay it didn’t actually scare me. But I stayed up to wait for it to be posted, which wasn’t until 2 or 3 in the morning. So by the time I finally watched it I was half awake and not expecting anything that I witnessed. 

The result was me being terrified of Thomas with a mustache and it prevented me from sleeping. I was over it the next day though and had Forbidden Fruit stuck in my head all day. Which isn’t good when you’re running the register at work and you can’t stop singing it. 

There’s a lot of reason why I love this episode, Remus being the primary thing. His entrance is iconic, the first few notes from his theme play as he creeps up behind the TV, him smiling at Roman all creepily until he whacks him over the head and knocks him out for most of the episode. 

Then we get the song, Forbidden Fruit, which is just great. Slight secondhand embarrassment but seeing the finished product and all they put into it, I can’t help but love it. 

Still miffed that Janus hasn’t gotten a song... specifically a villain song... I won’t ever let that go...

Logan is another highlight in this episode (no surprise) and seeing him go head-to-head against his polar opposite without batting an eye was interesting since I was kinda expecting them to show Logan having trouble dealing with Remus but nope. He handled it like a champ and I love them both. 

Now I am kinda wary as to how they’re going to handle Remus in the future, especially with the intrusive thoughts aspect. It’s a sensitive topic and they’re already screwing up anxiety. But Remus has only been in one episode so far which means I can’t make any solid judgments until he’s appeared in more episodes, so I’ll have to wait and see. 

All in all, great episode! Definitely deserves to be in my top three. 

#2 Learning New Things About Ourselves

This episode made me feel so nostalgic. I freaking love puppets and grew up with Sesame Street and the Muppets, so I’m probably biased towards this episode but to me this is really one of the better written episodes. 

Perfect? Heck no. But really, really good. 

I love that we get to explore a bit more with Logan and Roman’s characters, in a lot of ways this is kind of a Logan episode which has him standing against the other Sides, and it’s really interesting to see just how different he is compared to the three of them and it could just be me but it seemed like he’s becoming more of an outsider and isn’t as close with the original four as he used to be, and this episode is what really kicks that idea off. 

I can also relate to the “Well that’s nice but what do you do for a living?” message, except in my case it’s more like I want to quit my “real job” to pursue what I’m passionate about while people tell me it’ll probably never happen or “Yeah that’s a nice hobby!” So this episode really struck close to home and I just have a lot of sentimental feelings towards this one. 

I love all of the designs for the puppets, they all just fit perfectly and I wouldn’t mind seeing them make a comeback one day. I know that’d be difficult since they’d need a professional to puppet them but hey, one can dream right?

And oh my gosh the song, it just gives off the same feel from Sesame Street and Muppet songs with it’s jazzy feel. And I won’t lie I flipped my lid when Logan and Thomas were in the same shot together. We hadn’t seen any of the Sides share the screen with Thomas yet and the fact that it was Logan, and he was arguing with Thomas and they were singing over each other? Ah I love it!

Also don’t get me started on how Logan’s bit in the song sounds more villainous than the others. I’m not saying anything just a neat little observation. 

I have a lot of happy feelings attached to this episode, so despite the few problems I have with it I could never bring myself to hate it. The only one that tops it is...

#1 Can Lying Be Good?

The episode that started it all. The one that caught my attention and sparked my new fixation on this little series that I had just glossed over before.

I really don’t know what prompted me to watch this episode, other than I wasn’t in the best place and it just happened to pop into my recommendations one day and I figured, “Huh, haven’t watched this guy for awhile. Let’s see what he’s been up to.”

Once the episode was finished my first thought was “Holy shit when did this series start having lore?!”

This episode is probably the closest thing to perfect out of all the season two episodes so far. The writing is clever, pretty much all of the jokes land, and oh my gosh the editing in this one is phenomenal. 

The way they show Roman shifting between himself and Joan throughout the episode is what sticks out the most. Having Roman’s voice coming from Joan, or having them briefly change back to Roman, I love it so much. 

Not to mention Thomas’s ever changing shirt that reflects what he’s thinking/feeling is a neat little detail.

Did I mention this episode is hilarious? The ridiculousness of each scenario that they act out, with all the little inputs from Logan and Virgil who are both trying their best to do their jobs besides not even wanting to be part of it in the first place is adorable. 

And of course, the man of the hour, Deceit. Or Janus as we now know him as. 

Is it weird that I like Deceit more as a name? Probably, but that’s just because I don’t like how early his name was revealed. 

Okay that was my last negative comment. Promise.

Now since I hadn’t watched Sanders Sides in a while I didn’t notice anything off about “Patton” during my first watch. But going back after seeing the rest of the series helped me catch all the little hints they added to clue in the audience that something wasn’t right. 

A lot of it is really subtle, mostly in the acting department, but once you’ve caught on to everything it makes you wonder how you didn’t notice the first time. You can even see Logan and Virgil throughout the episode, knowing that something is off with “Patton” but holding back their concerns until Virgil finally calls Deceit out. 

I’ve rewatched Deceit’s reveal so many times. When he finally drops the act after Thomas makes up his mind not to lie, you can just tell he no longer cares whether Thomas knows or not. Then things get even more tense when Logan is silenced, and everyone knows what’s going on except Thomas. 

The music starts to build up, Thomas is flipping out, then after Deceit taunts him again he finally demands to know what’s going on and BAM there he is!

I love everything about this. 

Like, what else can I say? This episode is brilliant. It really shows exactly what this team is capable of when they’re at their best. The pacing, the build up, the writing, all of it combined together to make the perfect episode.

Season Two has been, interesting. The long waits have caused some problems with the pacing and characters, not to mention the departure of Joan from the writing team with new writers entering the room, not to mention the first welcome now unwelcome arrival of Asides, and with only the season finale left before season three, it makes me wonder just where this series is headed.

I know this series is capable of doing incredible things, season one is still solid and it really holds up even after all this time. But season two just feels like a jumbled mess. Sure, it’s easy to enjoy the episodes individually, but once you try to fit them all together it’s like trying to jam a puzzle piece into a place where it doesn’t fit. 

The best way to describe this season is as an experimental season. Each episode has the team trying something new, sometimes it seems these gimmicks take precedence over the story itself. Of course, some of these can work to the episode’s advantage, while others are just distracting and you’d know you wouldn’t miss them if they were gone. 

It’s a mixed bag that’s for sure. One that has me watching in morbid curiosity as I wait to see whether it’ll crash in the end or blow my expectations out of the water. It really is fun to analyze these episodes, and yes I know I can be very harsh but believe it or not this is how I engage with media that I love.

My hope is that team will learn from season two and try to take a more simple approach with their production once season three roles around. Because if they continue at the same pace they are now I doubt there will be many people around to see this series through. 

And on that note, that was my ranking of season two! I’m actually kinda excited now to go back and rewatch everything, I hope I don’t have to wait much longer to do so but that all depends on when the season two finale comes. Whether it ends up exceeding my expectations or just being “meh” I know it’ll be interesting regardless and I can’t wait to see just how they plan on wrapping this all up before the final season arrives. 

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 9//

(Chapter one) (Chapter two) (Chapter three) (Chapter four) (Chapter five) (Chapter six) (Chapter seven) (Chapter eight) (Chapter nine) (Chapter ten)

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd. Let me know if you would like to be added!)

A week was all Azriel needed to gather the information we hoped wasn’t true. However, after the first few days, the spymaster realized he would have to gather intel on those closest to Keir without arousing suspicion. When low-level sentries turned up without any knowledge, Azriel moved onto interrogating the stewards' personal army of Darkbringers. Together, he, Cassian and Rhys were able to interrogate the captain of Keir’s army—Rhys wiping his memory clean after every session. He hated to do it, but after gathering details of Keir’s plan and his alliance with Kallon, he knew it was necessary.

There was indeed a coup rising against the Court of Dreams.

We filled Mor and Amren in immediately after Azriel broke the news to us, but decided it was best to leave my sisters unaware—for now. Nesta was finally in a good, albeit still cold, place after the war that took place a decade ago and Elain was also finally returning to her normal self; who she used to be before being forcefully made. My sisters were healing, and the last thing I wanted was to reopen their old wounds by revealing that their lives were once again at risk. Nesta, as observant as ever, knew something was amiss but thankfully didn’t press for any information. For now, and until we had a set plan, we could leave them in the dark.

I did my best to hide my worries in front of them, instead allowing Elain to fuss over me and the baby while Rhys and his brothers gathered intel. With all the anxiety of the coup keeping me on edge, I hardly noticed that my previous symptoms weren’t affecting me as they had before. Granted, I was still so fatigued that I slept in until noon and my nausea still plagued me from time to time; at least I was finally starting to feel some relief, which reassured everyone—especially Elain. Now that I was feeling better, she began begging to help plan the nursery. Years ago, before the completion of the construction on the estate, she asked what we should do for the room attached to mine and Rhys’s suite. I originally wanted that room to be our nursery, but at the time I decided to make it into a sitting room. Knowing that an empty nursery sat just beyond the double-doors in my suite was too painful at the time. So, in the meantime, I wanted to make some kind of use for it; despite Rhys and I hardly ever even using it anyway.

After telling Elain where I wanted the nursery, she focused all of her energy into creating the perfect space for the baby. While the Illyrians focused on gathering the information from the Court of Nightmares, I did my best to shift my attention back onto my pregnancy. At first, I went with Rhys to Hewn City to be present for the interrogations with the captain of the Darkbringers, but we hadn’t taken into account the effect winnowing would have on me during my condition. With my powers being so drained, I couldn’t do it myself, so Rhys had winnowed us in. Upon arrival, I had nearly fainted in my mates’ arms. Alarmed, he winnowed us back to Velaris, causing me to actually faint. Once I regained consciousness, a guilt-ridden Madja was there and informed us of that unfortunate side-effect she forgot to mention at our previous appointments. In her defense, said side-effect didn’t usually develop until later in pregnancy, but thanks to my tendency towards extreme fatigue, it developed sooner. There was no explanation as to why winnowing was so taxing on a pregnant female, but Madja theorized that whatever magic it originated from was the culprit.

We decided then that he would go with Cassian to Azriel’s interrogations of the Captain, and once they had the information we needed, we would schedule our official visit to Hewn City. Fortunately, Madja explained that as long as I gave myself at least an hour rest between winnowing—including some recovery time after the initial trip, that it would be safe. A part of me was grateful that I didn’t have to be there for the interrogations, because after every session Rhys returned physically and mentally drained. Even as he recounted every detail to me, I couldn’t imagine the burden and the guilt weighing on his shoulders. The Night Court was his home for centuries; he made many painful sacrifices for the sake of his people. While he did his best to separate himself from the Hewn City, they were still his people; still his court and his ancestors' court. As High Lady for over a decade, it hurt deeply to imagine the threat of a civil war, especially for the innocents here in Velaris. As High Lord for as long as Rhysand was, I knew the pain was worse for him.

“You don’t have to do this every night you know,” Rhys drawled quietly from his place in the tub, summoning me back from my thoughts.

He was leaning on the edge with his chin resting over his crossed arms while I gently scrubbed at his delicately powerful wings. I smiled at his comment, continuing to clean the dirt and debris off his wings. After the first few days of seeing how drained my mate was, I took it upon myself to spoil him with a hot bath—together, to unwind while I cleaned him.

“You won’t let me do anything else since I got pregnant, the least I can do is take care of you,” I replied, dabbing at the other wing with a soft washcloth.

“That’s precisely why. You’re pregnant, and it should be me cleaning you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me.

I rolled my eyes, “I’m not the one doing all the heavy lifting.”

“I beg to differ,” he said as he glanced at my belly, still a small swollen mound.

I tried not to smile. “Your son isn’t that heavy, yet. I’m growing a baby, but you’re,” I paused, not wanting to bring up the ugly business of the day during the time I dedicated just for us. “Doing everything else…”

He was quiet until I finished cleaning his wing and turned to face me before cupping my face in his. “You’re working just as hard as I am Feyre, on top of being pregnant,” he said.

I gripped his wrist lightly, “I know that, but just like you’re taking care of me, I want to take care of you too. This time is for me just as much as it is for you.”

His smile was crooked as he responded, “Fair enough.”

I returned his smile and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. We stayed silent for the duration for our bath, not wanting to disturb our peace, but as soon as we were back in our bedroom, I couldn’t resist bringing up our upcoming plans for our visit to the Court of Nightmares.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” I asked as I pulled out a light nightgown from my dresser.

Rhys sighed, “After lunch. Cassian and Az want to go over the reports and statements from Keir’s general. We’re trying to piece together a timeline, and Azriel will go alone to finalize details with him while we’re at court.”

I nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed after slipping on my nightgown. Now that we had most of the information we needed, tomorrow we would travel to the Hewn City and announce my pregnancy. This would be our way of reminding Keir who he served and would continue to serve. We’d solidify our reign by furthering Rhys’s lineage.

I watched as he dried himself off and changed into his own night clothes, a simple pair of black shorts, and smiled as I imagined what our son might look like at his father’s age. Would the image the Bone Carver gave me continue to evolve to resemble Rhys? Would he have some semblance of me as well? Regardless, I dreamed of him growing to look and act like his father. But the thought of my son one day being High Lord, of having to put on the same cruel façade as the rest of us, made my heart clench and Rhys noticed it in my face. He perched on the space in front of me and gingerly placed both hands on my ever-swelling stomach.

“We’ll teach him well. After all, you had a pretty good teacher, if I do say so myself,” he said with a smug grin.

I rolled my eyes, “Maybe he’ll inherit my humility, because you’re hopeless.”

Rhys threw his head back with a bark of laughter before taking hold of my face to capture my lips in a deep kiss. He held me there for a few seconds, resting his forehead against mine.

“We won’t expose him to the Court of Nightmares until he’s ready and comfortable with it. I won’t put any pressure on him, I promise,” Rhys reassured.

“I know you won’t,” I sighed. “I just...can’t picture that yet. I think.”

“Well we haven’t officially met him,” Rhys said with a smirk. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”

I nodded and looked down at my stomach. “For now, I guess you have no choice but to be part of the act, but daddy will make it up to you,” I said with a smile and looked back up at Rhys, who had visibly stiffened at the new word I referred to him as.

He mouthed the word silently as I grinned and brought his hands back to my stomach, “That’s what he’s going to call you, you know.”

He nodded, matching my grin with a wicked one and wiggled his eyebrow, “I wouldn’t be opposed to you calling me that once in a while either.”

I laughed as I shoved him away, his laughter matching my own as he tackled me onto the bed.

X

Rhys and I stood alone at the gates outside the throne room in the Hewn City; Mor, Cassian, and Azriel already inside waiting for us at the base of the dais. They had gathered all the citizens of the city inside, on the order that their Lord and Lady were making a notable appearance today. I stared at the dark, cruel, scaled beasts carved on either pillar and ran my hands over the gentle swell of my belly. While getting ready this morning, Rhys pulled out a delicately midnight blue, floor-length, long sleeved gown fashioned of tiny sparkling crystals made to resemble lace. I nearly sobbed when my mate revealed that it was a maternity gown his mother made for me.

The impossibly soft fabric hugged my every curve, the patterned lace forming a deep ‘V’ shape over my breasts and opened in the back, allowing my tattoos to be on display. The sleeves capped at my wrists, the lace blending perfectly with the tattoos on both arms. More importantly, the gown hung over the prominence of my stomach; accentuating it enough to send our message without words. The High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court were expecting.

A dangerous announcement to make so early in my pregnancy, but a necessary one thanks to the current looming threat. While we initially feared it would enable Keir to push his and Kallon’s plans into motion sooner than we hoped, now we had our timeline and knew what to expect.

“Ready to be wicked?” Rhys purred as he rested a hand on the small of my back, jolting me from my thoughts.

Glancing again at the beautifully dark and brutal carved beasts on the gates, I nodded with a smirk and turned to him. “Let’s go.”

Both straightening to our full height, Rhys moved his hand to hold mine up as he escorted me into the throne room as the gates groaned open to reveal us to our court. The gathering crowd grew eerily quiet as Rhys and I ascended across the dark marble floor. Then the gasps came as they slowly, one by one, took notice of my stomach.

Though my shoulders were already squared, I tilted my chin up a little higher as the new weight of their observations fell over me. Over the decade I had gotten used to their stares, their murmurings, every time Rhys and I visited. This time was different. A pregnant female was rare and seeing as it had been centuries since a child was born into the ruling family of the Night Court, their gaze almost felt...scandalous. My façade remained as solid as ever as Rhys escorted me to our twin thrones, the crowd ceasing any whispers of my condition as we turned to face them. I sat first, but Rhys remained standing as his eyes met with Keir’s. The male stiffened the second he saw my belly and by the murderous look on Mor’s face, standing at the foot of the dais with the two Illyrians flanking her sides, he must have revealed his immediate disgust.

I could feel Rhys’s front cracking a bit, his dark powers slowly filling the room with shadows as he stared down the steward—who, thankfully, wasn’t sneering this time as he stared back.

“Bow,” was all Rhys said, struggling with the effort to reign in his overprotective instincts from misting Keir on the spot.

While the crowd moved immediately at his order, Keir did so reluctantly, Mor’s mother at his side and following his lead. I sent a gentle wave of my power down the bond in an effort to calm my mate. Don’t let him get to you. 

He didn’t respond, instead tightening up his veneer, shadows dissipating, and sat in his throne before waving an idle hand to the court. “Rise,” he commanded.

The crowd moved together as one, and he waved a hand nonchalantly in dismissal; allowing them to return to their business. Keir dismissed his wife and remained across from us before clearing his throat. “I see congratulations are in order,” he commented, his sneer returning as his eyes shifted from our faces to my stomach.

I couldn’t help the protective hand I placed over it, wanting desperately to shield my child, but I instead moved my hand to the top—just below my bust line, emphasizing it more.

“Indeed, though you don’t actually mean it, do you?” Mor drawled, her voice and face fiercely calm.

Keir ignored his daughter and returned his gaze to Rhys, apparently choosing to outright ignore my presence as well, “I take it this means your lineage will pass onto the child?”

“Did you not expect my mate and I to produce any offspring? That I would simply pass my crown onto someone who wasn’t of my blood?” Rhys replied, keeping his stare dark.

Keir shifted on his feet, “I was always under the impression that a powerful High Lord such as yourself would choose not to procreate, why create any direct competition to your rule? Just take a look at the Autumn Court; so many sons all vying for the same throne by any means necessary, including murder.”

His words dripped with disdain, his insinuations mocking. “And yet you chose to try and secure an alliance with the court you warn us of now. From the look of it, you rather idolize the idea of a son overthrowing his father, or vice versa.” I replied, my tone as icy as my mask.

Keir’s shoulders stiffened at my words, his formidable gaze meeting mine. Through the bond, I could feel Rhys’s dark shadows creeping in the corners of the room. Mor and Cassian watched us, their stares deadly and ready to intervene. Azriel was already gone to attend to his mission while we remained.

The steward tilted his head forward in a slight bow, finally acknowledging me. “I would never presume such a thing, milady. As always, I am at your service,” he said, his voice tight.

It took all of my strength not to scoff at his words or snap his neck. Instead, I slowly stood from my throne, leaving my hand on the curved apex of my belly. “My son will inherit this very throne. And if neither I nor my mate grow weary of your existence by then, you will serve him as well.”

“I’m sure your son will rule just as sufficiently, my lady.” He bit back.

The aura in the room shifted as Rhys’s dark shadows were overpowered by my own. I blasted out dark talons of my power and sank them into Keir’s mind, painfully seizing him in place as I took a slow step onto the foot of the dais just a few feet away from Mor and Cassian, who now held their breaths as they watched me. Rhys remained in his throne, his own dark power emanating with mine as I felt a silent nod of approval down the bond.

My heart pounded in my chest from the effort of my display of power, and I felt my knees shake a bit as I continued staring at Keir with an icy smile. “My son will be more than sufficient; I promise you that. As you said, he's the son of a very powerful High Lord. I should also remind you of the power of your High Lady. With the combined powers of all the High Lords in Prythian, including your High Lord, just imagine what his powers would be like? Won’t that be a magnificent sight to behold?”

I tightened my grip on him, and he did his best not to cringe in pain as he managed to hiss, “Yes, milady.”

My power slipped from him immediately as I was unable to hold on, my forehead gleaming with sweat, and it took me a few silent deep breaths before I smiled cruelly. “That’s good to hear.”

Rhys was at my side in a second as my knees trembled again. The exertion it took to intimidate Keir was draining, much more than I had anticipated. I was grateful for my floor length gown hiding my trembling legs as Rhys perched his hand on the small of my back.

Are you okay?

Yes, I just need to sit down. I reassured.

We’re leaving now, don’t worry

Keir was catching his own breath as he stared us down. As much as I didn’t want to reveal any weakness, neither did he. After a minute, he straightened again and tilted his head towards Rhys in a bow. “Is that all you needed milord? Your visit was last minute, and I was in the midst of gathering your reports.”

Azriel had showed up only seconds prior to Keir speaking, giving a silent nod to me and Rhys, indicating he gathered the last of the intel we needed. Rhys waved an idle hand at Keir, “The High Lady and I wanted to share our news and be on our way. Go. Continue to serve me as you have,” he said as he began escorting me back towards the gated doors, Mor, Cassian, and Azriel trailing behind us.

We stopped before stepping into the frame, looking back over his shoulder at Keir--who remained at his same spot before our thrones. “Unless, of course, we grow tired of your existence,” he drawled before we continued out the doors.

The minute we were out of view of him, and the rest of the court patrons, he scooped me up into his arms and flew us into the palace above the mountains, the others right behind us. Amren was waiting in the open hall, seated on a settee, but popped up immediately when she took in my pale features.

“What happened?” She asked, but Rhys ignored her, sitting me gingerly on the settee and kneeling before me to check over my condition.

“I’m fine,” I reassured him and the others as they gathered around me, the jasmine scented breeze already doing wonders to soothe my tired body as I breathed deeply. “That took a lot more effort than it used to, that’s all.”

Mor sighed in relief before grinning smugly, “You did a damn fine job though, the look on his face was priceless.” she boasted.

Cassian crossed his arms over his chest, “I have to admit, you even intimidated me a little bit.”

I smiled tiredly as Rhys stood, facing them. “It intimidated him for now. Maybe that’ll be enough to stumble his plans with Kallon for a while. That alliance explains why he’s been more and more arrogant these past years, but our news of the baby today threw a wrench in their plans. A temporary one at least.”

“Did you get everything you needed?” I asked Azriel.

Everyone turned to the shadowsinger, who nodded. “I went over our timeline with the general, he confirmed the details, but revealed one more possible player.”

We all paused, and Rhys frowned, “Another alliance?”

Azriel nodded, causing Cassian and Mor to curse. Amren crossed her arms, “Let me guess. Beron?”

He nodded again, and Rhys cursed as I sighed. “He really wants that damn alliance with Beron, doesn’t he?” I asked.

“Did the general know what Beron’s role in all this is?” Rhys asked.

Azriel shook his head, “He only knew that they’ve been exchanging letters. No one seems to know what the letters say, or any other context, but it's rumored that it has to do with the coup.”

“We need to keep interrogating the general,” Cassian said. “He’ll find out eventually, and we need him to keep relaying information.”

Rhys nodded in agreement. “I’ll keep my grip on his mind, making sure he forgets but also start leading him to inquire about the letters.”

“I can get one of my spies to keep tabs on Keir,” Azriel insisted, but Rhys shook his head.

“This is a better way in. We can’t let Keir know we’re onto him. We already have your spies trailing Kallon and monitoring the camps in the mountains. Kallon thinks it’s part of our normal rotation. If Keir notices the same presence, he’ll connect the dots.” He explained.

Azriel and Cassian nodded in agreement. “So, what do we do now?” I asked, and one by one everyone took notice of my hand idly caressing my stomach.

Now that the Court of Nightmares knew of my pregnancy, word would spread quickly over the entire Night Court, including the Illyrians. Those behind this rising coup would find a way to regroup and create some new plan of action, that was guaranteed. The news of a potential new alliance with another court meant that their numbers were even greater now. My eyes met with Rhys’s as we both realized at the same time what our next move was.

“We need to call on our friends for an early summit meeting.”

[earthstellar]

It’s Deaf Awareness Week, so I’m posting my hearing disabled Drift fan fiction in full below the cut! 

I am still fundraising for my hearing aids, so if you like the story and would like to donate, you can do so at my Ko-Fi or via PayPal. 

You can also see my post on Chirolinguistics and Sign Language in Transformers media here! 

Auditory Error by Capricorn_Stellium - Word Count: 2733

Summary: 

The Lost Light visits a marketplace on a newly identified planet in the hopes of restocking on a few crucial supplies.

Unfortunately, things go less than well, and Drift is hit with some sort of energy disruptor-- Which results in processor damage.

Once everyone is back on board and clear of the fight, Ratchet and First Aid get to work attempting to assess Drift post-injury in a MedBay that is suddenly far, far too noisy.

"Stay where you are. Don't move! First Aid, get over here, get on his left side."

It was Ratchet's voice, or at least, he thought it was.

Drift was in the MedBay, so evidently they'd made it back to the Lost Light.

He quickly tried to assess himself: No missing limbs, so that's nice. Doesn't seem to be much frame damage, no evidence of blaster shots or blade damage anywhere across his armour that he could see.

Not that he could see much, as Ratchet was aggressively trying to get him to lay his helm back down flat against the medical berth.

"He's awake. Aid, titrate the sedative, I don't want him dizzy but keep it level so he's not running around." Ratchet moved to the side of the berth from where he had been standing so far, somewhere behind his helm, but it was odd. His voice seemed to come from all directions at once, and it was disorienting.

"Drift, can you focus on me? You were hit in the helm by one of the marketplace traders; Turns out Rodimus was wrong about the locals being friendly, because of course he was. Nobody else is hurt, so don't even try getting up! I don't know what they hit you with, some kind of focused disruptor of some kind. We're running additional scans to try to figure it out, but stay down for now. You aren't restrained, no painkillers. Just a mild physical sedative in the event you woke up swinging. I'm too old to keep having to fight my patients, you know."

It was bizarre; He felt totally fine. He could hear that Ratchet was speaking, but the words were... Missing, here and there. All of the sounds in the room were equally as loud, completely drowning each other out. It was overwhelming and disorienting.

He'd been in the MedBay enough times both as a patient and just waiting for Ratchet to get off shift that he was well aware it shouldn't sound like this. It was as if every piece of machinery was at maximum volume and surely Ratchet was whispering, but why would he be whispering? Was there something else going on? Was Ratchet's vocaliser damaged somehow? Why would Ratchet lie about the situation, unless it was serious?

Ratchet noticed Drift's increasingly heavy frown; He looked fairly alert, but confused. Running another quick diagnostic scan, nothing new was coming up. Drift had been concussed, he'd already known about that. The more extensive diagnostic panel wouldn't be complete for another minute or two.

"Aid, I told you to moderate--" First Aid interrupted by holding up what was the needle end of a clearly disconnected fuel line drip.

"He's not being sedated actively at all anymore, Ratchet. It should work it's way out of his systems soon, low level dose should remain for the next three to five hours but not significantly enough to produce a frame relaxing effect. Intensive scan is just about ready, give it a moment. We'll figure it out."

Ratchet huffed. He was proud of his star apprentice, but it was irritating to get blatant reassurance from a junior doctor.

Not that First Aid was wrong to comment; It was hard to administer emergency care to your own conjunx. In other circumstances, it would never be allowed at all, but the Lost Light was a perpetual mess. A good mess, most of the time. But still not quite as organised as some might prefer-- A fact that Ultra Magnus never let anyone forget.

Speaking of Magnus, the paperwork for this would be a nightmare, but Ratchet had other concerns on his mind.

Drift raised a servo to his faceplate, careful not to lift his helm lest Ratchet come after him again. "I... feel okay, I think. But I never had a concussion that made everything sound so... I don't know. Things sound wrong all of a sudden."

Ratchet and First Aid looked at each other from across their respective sides of the medical berth. Aid pulled out a data pad and began taking notes once Ratchet nodded in the affirmative to proceed.

"What do you mean? Can you describe what you're feeling?"

Drift ex-vented. "Physically, totally fine. Not even a headache, really. Everything else seems okay, but it's like... Everything is at the same volume, and is coming from everywhere all the time. I can hardly make out what you and Aid are saying, every other word is gone, it's easier for me to focus on the vague sort of rhythm of the noises you're making rather than what you're actually talking about. Like the words are messed up and lost in the sounds of everything else. But, I don't know. It's like everything is a flood of noise, except for speech, I guess? Keep talking to me, I'll figure it out."

It was Ratchet's turn to frown. "Hmm." He backed up a little from the side of the berth. "Drift, can you shutter your optics for a second? I won't touch you, but I want you to listen as best you can, okay?" Drift nodded, wondering what Ratchet was up to.

Closing his optics felt awful; It made the noises seem even louder and more all-encompassing, somehow. Hopefully this wouldn't take long. He was glad Ratchet had kept him on the berth; It was a dizzying sensation. Like the noise was giving him vertigo.

"I'm going to snap my digits in different areas and at different distances from your helm. I want you to tell me where you hear the sound in relation to yourself, so for example, upper left from your point of view, or lower right, or straight ahead. Okay?"

Drift nodded, hoping he'd heard the instructions correctly. It was suddenly much harder to fill the gaps in Ratchet's speech when he couldn't watch his faceplate while he was speaking.

The exam went on for a while until finally Ratchet snapped his digits for the last time to Drift's righthand side, but Drift stated the sound was coming from straight ahead and slightly above his helm.

"Maybe a little to the right?" He could hear Ratchet ex-vent, but from where, he couldn't tell. "Nope. Open your optics, Drift. Sorry to say you didn't exactly pass that test." He turned to face First Aid, who had apparently been following along and taking quite a few notes.

Turns out both of them were stood exactly where they were when the exam had started. Weird. To Drift, it had seemed like their intermittent words were floating around him while his optics had been shuttered. Had they moved at all, the entire time?

The noise of all the medical machinery was getting awful. How were Ratchet and Aid okay with it?

Then he realised they probably couldn't hear it. Somehow...

Ratchet's voice knocked him out of the state of distress he was rapidly falling into the more he tried to think about all the noise. "Aid, note a general lack of directional hearing. No loss of hearing overall, his audials are registering sound as usual, but..."

First Aid looked up from the data pad. "But the way his processor is interpreting the sounds he's hearing is wrong."

"Correct. It's processor damage. Damn."

Drift had missed what was probably a very important word, there. "Sorry, what kind of damage?"

Ratchet, to his credit, only looked upset for a very brief moment. But Drift could tell; He could always tell with his Ratty. And that look was never good.

"Sorry, Drift. We shouldn't talk about you like you aren't here, anyway; It's a bad habit medics can develop."

That got a small smile out of Drift. "Since when are you worried about bad medic habits? You routinely throw wrenches at your patients."

"Hey, that's usually only Whirl. And Rodimus. And..." Ratchet took one of Drift's servos into his own. "Fine, you have a point, but this is serious. We need to run more tests. And by more, I mean you're going to be in here for a while."

Drift nodded, not wanting to speak himself lest it break his intense concentration on Ratchet's intake. It definitely seemed like trying to follow Ratchet's faceplate movements made it easier to guess what words he was missing.

The words he could no longer hear. For some reason.

It was only years of experience performing various mindfulness meditations that prevented Drift's anxiety from escalating.

First Aid walked towards the foot of the medical berth to be more fully in Drift's line of sight before addressing him.

And he proceeded to say something that Drift totally missed, because First Aid's battle mask made it impossible to read his faceplates in the way that he could with Ratchet.

"Uh... I don't want to interrupt? But two things: Aid, can you retract your mask?" Both First Aid and Ratchet stiffened immediately.

"I'm so sorry--" "Drift, if you can't understand us, just say so and we can--"

And it was too much noise.

Instinctively, his servos flew up to cover his audials, which hadn't helped as much as he had hoped it might.

"Stop! Stop, I'm sorry, it's okay. Don't worry about it. But the second thing, is that it's way, way too much in here. The noise, I mean. It's a lot."

Ratchet gently grabbed Drift's wrists, getting closer in the process.

"The scan we were running has finished by now. Aid, turn off everything we're not currently using, let's see if it makes a difference in the ambient noise level. Go ahead and start interpreting the results, construct a summary, you know what to do."

As First Aid got started as directed, looking somewhat upset that he hadn't thought to retract his battle mask earlier, Ratchet moved in even closer to speak directly into Drift's audial.

On the other side of Drift's helm, he cupped a servo over the opposite audial to help block out the surrounding noise and force Drift's processor to focus on the most immediate input: His voice. "I'm sorry. I'll try to make this as easy on you as I possibly can, okay? We're not hearing things the way you are, so we'll have to figure this out as we go. But that's fine; You're okay... You will be okay."

Vision obscured by Ratchet's shoulder armour while intensely trying to focus on his voice, suddenly, it hit Drift.

He could hear, but he couldn't hear. Not really.

A thousand scenarios flooded him at once, each one more terrifying than the last.

Being in a battle, unable to tell where bullets were coming from. Hearing a ship-wide alarm go off, and being incapacitated by the noise, unable to react otherwise. Unable to help. Unable to protect Ratchet. Never being able to parse anyone's speech, always missing words, never having all the information.

Going to a racetrack and being disoriented by the hum of all the wheels and engines at high speed, causing an accident. Anywhere noisy, anyone talking. Anywhere sound exists, it would be too much or not enough and never in-between.

He couldn't fight effectively. He wouldn't able to communicate effectively, not if he constantly misheard every single thing. The stress just from the MedBay noise was horrendous; What about in the middle of a conflict, or the command deck, or even someplace like Swerve's? Totally unbearable.

He would go right back to being isolated. He would be a problem for others. A burden, an annoyance.

What if this wasn't fixable?

He gasped like he had been choking, causing Ratchet to startle and pull back. "Ratchet! Ratchet, Ratty, what if-- What if you can't fix me?"

And he knew that look.

He felt Ratchet's arm move slightly somewhere behind him, and First Aid swiftly and silently left; He would finish looking over the results in his own office space. Ratchet had probably flashed some kind of medic secret code hand signal or something.

Or maybe it was just awkward to watch your mentor's partner start crying in your shared workplace. It was probably that, and the thought would have made Drift laugh if he didn't suddenly have a terrible headache.

Ratchet made the most of his wide set medical frame type, and completely wrapped Drift in a hug.

It helped. Everything seemed like too much right now, but this, he could never possibly get enough of.

Fluid had pooled behind his optics; Some started to trickle down in small streams. Ratchet wiped some of it away gently.

"Drift, I'm not going to lie. I already know what those scan results are going to say; There's nothing wrong with you, aside from whatever is going wrong with your processor. And I'm going to be honest, because you know I don't lie when it comes to my diagnostics... If I'm right about the nature of your processor damage, it's most likely not something that can be repaired."

Even though on some level he figured that might be the case, it felt like Ratchet had jammed the Great Sword through his spark.

Before he had the chance to completely break down, Ratchet carefully grabbed the sides of Drift's helm, gently rubbing soft swirls in his faceplate and ensuring Drift didn't just fold in on himself and completely collapse.

He wanted Drift to be able to understand; Keeping his helm up like this would help Drift read his faceplate, too.

"I know. It's not good news. But we can work with it. You can work with it. We'll figure it out. If we don't have the supplies we need to make whatever assistive device we might have to come up with, we'll find a way to get them, or make them. You have me, Perceptor, Brainstorm, a whole ship full of people who can and will help you. Okay?"

Drift wanted to nod, he really did, but the tears welling up in his optics had blurred his vision, and the thought of being unable to see clearly while being unable to hear clearly was so completely distressing to him that he simply threw his arms around Ratchet's neck strut and let himself cry it out.

Not for long, and not very hard; He found that the sound of his own crying was odd and grating to his audials, both muted and sharper than it should have been.

While he could stifle his tears, he couldn't stop his upset and frustration from seeping out through his EM field.

Ratchet's armour plating shivered a bit, before he met Drift's EM field with his own and wrapped him in another hug, spark to spark.

A surge of love, care, devotion- Ratchet's EM field helped soothe Drift's headache, and slowly, he calmed down. His vents evened out, the sound of the fans rattling no longer another sound adding to his distress.

"Sorry, Ratty. I just, this is... really bad."

"Yeah, it is. But we'll figure it out."

Drift's voice fell to almost a whisper. He couldn't fully hear himself speak, although he felt his vocaliser warm up. "There's this weird dissonance, like everything is too loud and too quiet all at once. Like all the small noises are massive and I can't hear anything I actually want to listen to. It reminds me of coming down from a syk hit, when my sensory data would get a little messed up."

Ratchet stilled, then tightened his hold on Drift. He was careful to speak directly into Drift's audial. "Rung is here too, you know. We're all here for you. I'm here for you."

He pulled back just enough to kiss Drift's faceplate, where the tears had left stains. Drift stared at his intake; He wasn't sure if it was to return the kiss, or if it was an attempt to try to follow along with his words.

"How about this: While Aid finishes up the report on your scan results, we can lay down in our hab suite and hopefully it'll be quiet enough there for you to get some real rest. I can give you a painkiller before we head out; Nothing heavy-duty, but sensory sensitivity can be unpleasant and I want you to actually recharge if you think you can. I can call Velocity in to handle my other patients for the evening."

He hadn't been this tired earlier, but he definitely was now. Drift nodded, leaning his helm up a bit to return Ratchet's kiss.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

[work-life-harmony]

Harmony Journal/Blog Posts

9/8/21

“I Stress, Eustress, We All Stress”

It is two days past my 42nd birthday and the eve before the start of another school year.  And I anticipate it is going to be a year like no other.  There is a tremendous amount of uncertainty that I am feeling at the moment.  Personally, I am in the thick of things trying to raise my twelve year-old daughter and blend ourselves with my fiancee and her two children.  It has not been easy.  My daughter has dealt with anxiety ever since she was little.  Her mom passed away two months after her second birthday and it’s hard to know whether her personality has been shaped in part because of the void my wife’s passing created.  Now that she is entering adolescence, a certain alchemy of anxiety, anger, and depression has yielded some chaos in our household.

That the pandemic happened to coincide with the time in her life where she is feeling the hardest is unfortunate.  Did the lockdown and disruption to our lives exacerbate her feelings of anxiety and anger?  It’s probably a safe bet that it did.  So that has been a major area of concern and frustration for me.

On the professional side of things, although last year was difficult for many teachers, and I certainly had my frustrations, I was in a fairly good place mentally.  There were some aspects to the school year that I actually found novel and enjoyed, such as the ability to sleep later, roll out of bed and teach from my kitchen table.  Conversely, the new routine allowed me to develop some habits that were not healthy, including daily rituals such as making and drinking light and sweet coffee and having a serving or two of ice cream nightly between dinner and bed.  Furthermore, I seemed to become a slave to my phone.  Although I’ve had the willpower to delete apps such as Facebook off of my phone in the past, the last few years I became addicted to the news...and Instagram...and checking my email.  One concerning consequence of the pandemic is that I’ve lost my concentration stamina.  If I start something, particularly work related, it only takes a few minutes before I feel compelled to get up and do something else, even just for a half minute.  Of course this breaks my rhythm of work and I’m unable to achieve any kind of flow.  And, worse, sometimes I find that I mean to do something, such as check the weather, but when I open up a tab to do it, I have completely lost what I meant to do when I opened the tab.  Scary!

With the start of the new school year, I intend to turn over a new leaf so to speak by approaching different aspects of my professional and personal life with an eye towards my well-being: physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.  The forthcoming journal entries will chronicle the conscious changes that I am making in order to foster more harmony in my life and a stronger sense of well-being.  Part of that will be my investment in activities that help me achieve a sense of flow, including but not limited to music, reading, and immersing myself in nature.

9/16/21

“Time In a Bottle”

As the school year has started, the typical looseness of my summer days has come to an abrupt end.  However, there are some benefits to the structure of my school days.  My body has started to adjust to my new routine, and although the school day seems to necessitate a routine, there are conscious choices that I’m making to build a healthy daily schedule.  I am up at 5:30 on weekday mornings and in bed reading by 10 pm, a major shift from previous school years in which I would stay up until 11 or later watching television before hopping in bed to fall asleep.  Although I’m still adjusting to this new routine (as the school year is still young), I am recognizing an easier relationship with waking up in the morning.  As noted in the course, avoiding screens before bedtime contributes to a better sleep and I am finding that I am waking up more rested and ready to meet the day.  

An interesting stressor at the start of the school year, before my body has fully adopted the new schedule, is my anxiety that I will somehow miss my morning alarm.  I’m the first one in the house who is up in the morning, and no one is coming to wake me in time for my early day if my alarm fails me.  Thus, the first week (or two) of the school year leave me sleeping lightly and somewhat anxiously.  I continue to add measures into my routine, such as meditation and muscle relaxation practices to help ease my mind.  Additionally, I have quieted my mind before falling asleep by acknowledging the things that I am grateful for.  This will be touched upon in more depth in a forthcoming journal entry, but there is tremendous value in gratitude.  Lori Santos, a renowned professor at Yale University who teaches the highly sought course “The Science of Well-Being,” acknowledged in an article for Newsweek Magazine, “Grateful people tend to be happier and show lower levels of stress hormones like cortisol. Health care workers who keep a gratitude journal show reductions in stress and depression. And people suffering from chronic pain who practice gratitude show improvements in both sleep quality and mood” (Santos). It has become an important strategy for me to ease the chronic stress and anxiety of life which gets exacerbated at the start of a new school year.  

With each day, it does become easier to sleep peacefully and I suspect that soon my eyes will open a minute before my alarm rings.  I am also pleased to report that rising before the sun comes up has been easier than in years past.  Typically, trying to get out of bed in the dark has always been difficult and miserable.  Of course, it may return to misery as winter sets in and leaving a warm bed is a shock to the system, but for now I am happy to report that the newly adopted schedule for this school year is working well.  

On a more professional side of things, I have been working on my planning as it regards daily obligations.  For instance, the adoption of daily to-do lists has helped me to stay better focused on items that need attention; efficient about tending to, and completing, those items; and avoid being frazzled like I have been in the past because the ideas bounce around my brain but have not been concrete since they aren’t visibly posted somewhere.  The morning ritual of composing a daily to-do list has really been beneficial for me.  An example of items that I’ve included on lists include: grade seven essays today, photocopy “Heroes” article, email Nina’s guidance counselor, drop two books in Mari’s mailbox, hit the supermarket with grocery list, and call the car dealership.  Furthermore, I’ve been diligent about staying on top of the “house calendar” to not only make sure that all family events are noted on the calendar, but also to consult the calendar every day as part of my daily routine to see what obligations members of the household have that day and in the near future.  This is an indispensable part of our lives and internal harmony.  For instance, my daughter’s “picture day” is tomorrow.  Since it is listed on the calendar, we can save ourselves stress and frustration by potentially being caught off guard that pictures are being taken tomorrow.  Heaven forbid my daughter arrive at school with no inkling that it is picture day, likely exacerbating her stress/anxiety because she feels unprepared.  These measures have been part of my process for winning back time and peace of mind.  

With that in mind, it is going to be a school long objective to work on organization skills with my students.  In particular, I have two sections of remedial sophomore English classes.  A good percentage of these students have IEPS or other individualized plans to help them be successful in their high school classes.  It is not uncommon to see a personalized modification that revolves around breaking down big concepts and keeping them on task.  For this reason, we’ve established a routine of taking out binders/notebooks at the start of every class period.  They need reminders, but it is with the purpose of establishing healthy and productive habits that they can carry with them for a lifetime.

9-19-21

“Love May Know No Bounds, But a Teacher Better Set Some”

The financial wizard Warren Buffet has been quoted, “The difference between successful people and really successful people is that really successful people say no to almost everything."  While there’s probably a bit of overstatement to Buffet’s claim, one can’t deny that from an “American Dream” point of view that he is considered a success.  Thus, there must be some truth behind his words which reinforce the Module 3 concept of boundary-setting.  With the rise of technology, be it e-mail or Google classroom, students have greater accessibility to their teachers.  In fact, everyone has greater accessibility to teachers.  Compounded by the fact that part of last year was taught remotely, the boundaries of the school day almost ceased to exist.  Fortunately, the summer has been a quiet time to turn away from professional demands, but with the new school year upon us,  I feel it is going to be important to counter the feeling of always being tied to work.  For this reason, boundary-setting is going to be a priority for me.  My first concern is to establish that I will not be addressing professional inquiries/issues on weekends or days off.  Of course, this will be somewhat of a test at the start of the school year because I’m also conscious of the anxiety that arises when my inbox fills up with issues that need attention.  But branching off of the time-management piece of the puzzle, I hope to create effective solutions in my approach to time and boundaries.

When I started my career as a teacher, I recall a colleague noting that teaching is a twelve month job condensed down to ten months.  Thus, the school day doesn’t truly end with the last bell.  There is much to get done between planning, grading, and tending to all of the extra aspects of teaching.  Even as a veteran teacher, it is virtually impossible to complete all of my professional needs during school hours.  In fact, the demands of being a school teacher may feel endless at times.  This is why it is so important to set boundaries.  Granted, when you have children of your own, as I do, priorities tend to shift.  But, even so, most caring teachers yearn to give 110% to their schools and students.  The phrase that comes to mind when that happens is “slave to your work.”  This is a recipe for stress and potential unhappiness, so it becomes incumbent upon teachers to set boundaries and strike a balance between personal and professional life.  This school year, I feel I’ve done a nice job of making my nights and weekends sacred.  I use my time at school effectively and efficiently, shying away from distractions that keep me from being as productive as possible during school hours.  I have even established practices with classes that have helped in this regard.  For instance, I have designated Friday as an independent reading day for my basic skills classes.  While this is productive for them because it creates an environment that they can do sustained reading of literature that they choose, it also affords me time to catch up on grading and plan for the following week (which would otherwise be happening during my weekend).  The items that I am not able to get to during the school day are addressed during my time at home, but I believe that I am approaching it in a more thoughtful way.  On weekend mornings, I’ve been waking up early as my body adjusts to my 5:30 wakeup routine during the week.  So when I’m up for an hour before the rest of the house, I can attack the items that I didn’t get to during the week.  Needless to say, my approach this year has left me feeling a better sense of control over my professional duties.

9-22-21

“Shake It Off” 

Several years ago the topic du jour in school districts across the country was resilience or grit.  This was pre-pandemic.  As a concept, it hasn’t gotten the same attention as of late, but that does not undercut the importance of resilience and the tools we need to develop in order to persevere.  As noted in Module 3, a growth mindset plus stamina equals achievement.   As part of my journey to better living, particularly during the stressful pandemic, I have landed on, and dedicated myself to, several areas which follow:

Developing habits of self care and compassion for others

As we went into lockdown and found ourselves somewhat trapped in our homes, particularly during the fall and winter, it was easy to lose the habits of self-care that had been so natural in our daily lives.  I have consciously made an effort to develop better habits of self care since taking this course.  Namely, my diet and sleep have been areas of focus.  My daily diet looks something like:

-Greek yogurt with granola and fresh berries for breakfast

-A greens, apple, avocado, grilled chicken and blue cheese salad for lunch

-Apple slices, banana, flavored almonds, and/or pretzel & hummus for an afternoon snack

-Dinner varies, but is typically home-cooked and avoids red meat

Prior to this conscious change, I had no real dietary routine and I recognized the impact it was having on me physically and mentally.  I was leaning hard into sugar and caffeine; beyond the damage it was doing to my body, it was adversely affecting my sleep habits.  Now, however, committed to taking better care of myself, I am cognizant of the synergistic benefits of self-care, especially when times are tough.  

Another area of focus, and one often taken for granted in our well-being, is the power of authentic socializing with others.  While I was lucky to have a full house made up of my fiancee and our three kids which helped me not feel starved for close, authentic social interaction, I still was not feeling completely edified.  Making sure to nurture my relationships, especially with students and colleagues, brings a greater sense of gratification from meaningful interaction.  For instance, last school year, I noticed that one aspect of my school day that was glaringly absent was laughter.  Whether it stems from banter with colleagues or the shenanigans that carry on with a loose and happy classroom of students, last year punctuated how important laughter is on the psyche.  In fact, a line from one of my favorite novels, Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, emphasizes the deep importance of laughter when the protagonist, McMurphy, remarks, “Man, when you lose your laugh you lose your footing.”  While social distancing may have made us inclined to shrink away from people, so much has been lost by cocooning ourselves.  A tremendous part of our mental health is the release we get when laughing.  I have reinvested in that and it has led to the next area of well-being and resilience:

Building a network of positivity

As an extension of that investment into relationships is the support system of those who help to buoy me.  While we know that misery often loves company, we should also recognize that happiness is augmented through company as well.  One of the better pieces of wisdom that I ever found from a fortune cookie fortune was “Joy shared is doubled; grief shared is halved.”  (Does one need to create an APA citation for fortune cookies?  Ha!)  We certainly are better off building a mindset of positivity.  It can be infectious.  And although as the school year neared I was having grim thoughts about what was in store for us, my network of people which includes friends, colleagues, and even students have helped me navigate to a place of harmony.  Sometimes we are our own worst enemy and our brains can be unkind and counterproductive. And sometimes we lose our way which also takes a toll on our sense of being.  That’s why anyone will be better off:

Finding Purpose

Yesterday, I was catching up with my best friend from childhood.  I asked how his mother was doing since she retired three years ago from her position as an anesthesiologist.  My friend’s response was, “She’s deteriorating.”  Granted, this is a woman in her 70s, and time can be cruel.  (My fiancee told me last night that she saw a shirt for sale online that said, “My favorite childhood memory is my back not hurting.”) But the real point of my friend’s words is that once she lost her daily purpose of getting up at 5:30 and doing meaningful work, she became aimless and lost the person that she had been for most of her lifetime.  

Finding purpose is an important element to the senior curriculum I teach as the literature we read in my ELA class forces us to confront the universal themes of purpose and identity.  So much of self-understanding and drive derives from the things that we do.  

Perhaps the best figure to explore the value of purpose is the mythological figure of Sisyphus.  You may know him as the guy who rolls the rock up the hill.  That’s his identity, because that’s what he does.  He is suffering eternal punishment for angering the gods, and they have determined that there is nothing worse than this act of futility.  When Sisyphus completes his task and gets the rock to the top of the mountain, it just rolls back to the other side and he has to collect the rock again and repeat.  Ad nauseum.   However, the French absurdist writer Albert Camus examines Sisyphus as a representation of the everyman.  We all roll our metaphorical rocks only to watch those acts be undone.  We make our beds in the morning.  Wash our dishes.  Mow the lawn.  Go to work.  Day after day after day.  And ultimately, we suffer for no greater good.  However, Camus acknowledges that Sisyphus overcomes his torment if he has his own purpose to the seemingly futile act.  When he steps up to the rock with his own personal motivation, or purpose, then it’s not a punishment.  That’s the value of purpose.  

Fortunately, the profession of education naturally provides purpose as we invest in our students.  And beyond that, I have invested in music and relationships.   These areas of my life have certainly been instrumental in creating a sense of direction and happiness. 

Finally, I believe in:

Continuing to learn, experiment, and grow

Recently, a colleague noted how much she loved being a student and learning.  She pointed out that if she could be a student for the rest of her life, she would do it in a heartbeat.  I feel somewhat similar.  And one of the best aspects of being in the world of education is that I’m consistently being exposed to new ideas and ways of thinking that have satisfied an aspect of my personality that yearns for knowledge.  

When the world came to a screeching halt in the spring of 2020, eager to quench my desire to improve my knowledge and skills, I found just what I was looking for online.  After some searches for guitar instruction on the internet, I stumbled upon a fellow with a channel on youtube that has been somewhat life-changing.  His avuncular disposition and clear explanation of guitar theory has helped me to become a better guitarist and feel a newfound confidence in my playing.  Upon reflection, I’m happy that I dedicated myself to improving my skills because it has paid great dividends and underscores the value of knowledge, experimentation and growth.

I feel lucky that a few of the ideas noted above are organically interwoven into the life of an English literature teacher.  

9-26-21

“The smell of gratitude” - Sensory Awareness, Attitude and Thankfulness

Yesterday, I stepped outside in the morning and immediately recognized that it was a glorious day.  An early morning autumn chill was in the air (my favorite time of year), and the sun dappled the earth through its magnificent golden rays.  Shortly after breakfast, the family hopped in the car and headed north to Warwick, NY.  When we reached our destination, my fiancee and the kids hopped out and spent an hour on an alpaca farm while I drove into Sugar Loaf, the neighboring hippie town.  There, I walked along the main drag in the middle of town and basked in the sunshine between dropping into the different stores.  After picking the family up, we drove back into town and had a delicious lunch before heading home mostly along back roads that traced the shore of a lake that crosses the boundary between NY and NJ.  It was sensational; the only thing that could have made it better is if the foliage had started to turn.  

Days and moments experienced, like yesterday’s outing, force me to return to the lyrics of Neil Peart whose words echo from his band, Rush’s, wonderful song “Time Stand Still”:

Freeze this moment

A little bit longer

Make each sensation

A little bit stronger

Experience slips away...

Experience slips away...

Time stand still

Of course, time doesn’t stand still, so it becomes necessary for us to savor the big and little moments of our lives.  Akin to the Scottish poet Robert Burns’ remark in his poem, “To a Mouse”:

 I backward cast my e’e,

       On prospects drear!

An’ forward tho’ I canna see,

       I guess an’ fear!

We are so busy worrying about our past and futures that we forget to live in the present.  With this in mind, I’ve been practicing the art of savoring.  Right now, as I write, there is the wonderful aroma of pumpkin muffins in the air.  This morning, I relished the hot water pouring down when I took a shower.  And even though I’m allergic to animals, I still felt and savored the buttery softness of the teddy bears made with alpaca fur that the kids got when they were at the farm.  

There are many areas of our lives to be more present and “tune into” in order to achieve a deeper appreciation for the present moment and increase our happiness and well-being.  And, following the advice from the Harmony course to spend time in nature, I find this to be the best time of year to do such a thing.  Thus, I have been spending extra time outdoors, smelling the autumnal air and savoring the beauty of the natural world.  Fortunately, I’ve had the pleasure of teaching Romantic writers whose ideology turned away from the harsh, cold logic of the Age of Reason and towards the wonders of the natural world and the emotions of humankind.  Several poems I teach underscore the value of nature; perhaps no poet celebrates the natural world more than William Wordsworth.  He characterizes the peace found in nature when he says in “Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey:

how oft—

In darkness and amid the many shapes

Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir

Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,

Have hung upon the beatings of my heart—

How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,

O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods,

         How often has my spirit turned to thee!

I, too, have looked to nature, both literally and figuratively, to counterbalance the “fever of the world.”  I will continue to do so, especially on these glorious autumn days.  And in times when I cannot be out in nature, my spirit can still turn to it and find some internal peace with recollections of how sublime Mother Nature can be. 

9-29-21

Crisis - “A season to build resiliency”

The subheading to this journal entry comes from an Edutopia article written by Jessica Cabeen, “How School Leaders Can Frame Tough Decisions.”  It’s certainly an optimistic mindset in relation to times of struggle or outright crises.  Entering my seventeenth year in education, I could never have predicted what the state of education was going to be over the past few years if I had never lived it.  If we are to understand “crises” as events that cause us to change our routines and threaten our safety, the pandemic certainly fits the bill. 

I’ve had a few other crises since becoming a teacher.  The most recent one was a crisis wrought and then averted by Mother Nature right as this school year was beginning.  When Hurricane Ida swept up the eastern coast of the US, those of us in the metropolitan area had no real warning about the amount of water that the storm was going to dump on us.  At around 8:30 pm, I went into my basement to see streams of water pouring through the basement walls soaking the basement floor as the sump pump struggled to keep up with the quickly rising water table.  Ten years prior, I had a similar experience with Hurricane Irene.  (It dawns on me now that I must really take note when a Hurricane named after the letter I bears down on me that I need to be alert.)  The morning after Irene, I woke up to the items in my basement floating around like they were in a bathtub.  With Ida, I made a mad dash to remove the items from the basement that I could and tried to shift my thinking of helplessness to acceptance.  

You can’t fight Mother Nature.  Thus, I took solace in knowing that I salvaged the things that I could and to not fret about the things that I couldn’t control.  This is perhaps a difficult thing to do, especially in a situation like this as we are naturally conditioned to protect our abodes.  But the mindset is vital part of our wellbeing.  One of the moments from the course on Harmony that really resonated with me was the transference of anxious energy into positive energy.  Rather than feel confined by the heightened energy of anxiety, simply telling yourself “I’m excited” can have a real positive effect.  Certainly, saying “I’m excited” about a hurricane is a ludicrous connection, but attempts to assuage the mind can bear fruit.  In the middle of the madness as Ida was wreaking havoc across NJ, I made a conscious attempt to soothe myself and accept what the fallout was going to be.

From there we are able to learn and grow, and our resilience is definitely tested.  Although we may struggle and even suffer, we have the opportunity to learn and grow from our experiences.  Additionally, when we go through our own trials, we become empathetic.

Given the extreme negative impacts that trauma can have on individuals, especially young people, crises take on a more serious consideration because it’s not just the present crisis that needs attention; the ramifications for the long-term also need to be addressed.  Sometimes checking in is an important step to help others.  For that reason, I spent a couple of class periods talking candidly with my students about their feelings regarding the pandemic.  Not only was it eye-opening, it was also greatly appreciated by my students.  Quite a few students remarked that none of their teachers bothered to check in with them.  They carried on with business as usual, even though the students had bigger things on their minds than math or chemistry or history.  Since then, and with the endorsement of the Harmony course, I have made it a priority to emphasize and invest in the human connection with my students and the other people in my orbit.  

Although the course emphasized a distinction in the connotations of balance and harmony, I do believe that a conscious balancing of different aspects of my routines and choices has led to a more harmonious life.  The school year is off to a great start...a better start than I had hoped.  And, ultimately, I feel a stronger sense of well-being, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

Cited Sources:

Burns, Robert. “To a Mouse.” Poets.org, https://poets.org/poem/mouse. 

Cabeen, J., 2021. How School Leaders Can Frame Tough Decisions. [online] Edutopia. Available at: 

<https://www.edutopia.org/article/how-school-leaders-can-frame-tough-decisions> [Accessed 29 

September 2021].

Gilbert, D. (2021). Stumbling on Happiness: Think You Know What Makes You Happy? 

Alfred A. Knopf.

Kesey, K. (1672). Ken Kesey: One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (Mass Market 

Paperback); 1989 Edition. Ken Kesey.

Rush. “Time Stand Still.” Peter Collins, The Manor, Oxfordshire, 1987. 

Santos, L. (2020, December 22). Laurie Santos, Yale Happiness Professor, on 5 things that will 

make you happier. Newsweek. Retrieved September 16, 2021, from

https://www.newsweek.com/2021/01/08/laurie-santos-yale-happiness-professor-5-thing

-that-will-make-you-happier-1556182.html. 

Wordsworth, William. “Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, on Revisiting the 

Banks of the Wye During a Tour, July 13, 1798.” Poets.org, 

https://poets.org/poem/lines-composed-few-miles-above-tintern-abbey-revisiting-banks-

wye-during-tour-july-13-1798.