#i need therapy so bad but i had to cancel an appointment 'cause i just can't with the cost right now

[princess-of-the-corner]

I think what bothers me the most about Marinette’s behaviour, is the way I see myself portrayed in her.

I am on the spectrum for Ausbergers, ADD and anxiety disorders, and I do, or did, many of the things Marinette does. I have abysmal impulse control, and I used to take things without thinking about the consequences of taking the thing. I also had the schedule of every single one of my friends in high school on my calendar, and to this day, every member of my family is on there, even if I don’t particularly talk to or like them. I would buy or bring people things because I saw a thing and thought of them, but I would also hold in thoughts and emotions that were detrimental to me because I thought I couldn’t tell people. Many of the things I see Marinette doing, I either do, or remember doing.

And what annoys and hurts me most is how they are shown as “good” or “harmless” characteristics. 

I got caught shoplifting and had to go through a lot of therapy to stop from just taking things. It was a compulsion I had to fight against, and though I mostly succeeded, sometimes I still feel it. Bringing people stuff became such a compulsion that when I didn’t, I felt like I had failed somehow. To this day, I have difficulty communicating my feelings, even to myself, because it was so ingrained in me to keep them secret and not cause trouble.

Having the schedule for all of my friends was weird. Like, no justifications, I didn’t need to know when Lesley had a dentist appointment, or when Jake was going to visit his grandparents. These are things that did not affect me, I did not need to know or write down. It was, and still is, a coping mechanism that makes me feel more secure, knowing what’s happening to the people around me. Like, they all thought it was weird. They let me do it, but none of us were under the impression it wasn’t weird. But there’s the important bit, THEY ALL KNEW ABOUT IT. I did not, ever, violate their privacy to find out information, I just asked. Heck, sometimes they didn’t even tell me exactly what they were doing! Just “Hey, between 3 and 5pm on Saturday I’m doing something, don’t try to call me then, I’ll be busy”. That was usually enough.

I could keep going, but my point is, I have a lot of compulsions and habits that I have to either fight or work around on a daily basis. Things that I know can be taken out of context and misconstrued if I’m not careful. Things that I could, and was, judged pretty harshly for. And to see a show take those traits and normalize them in such an ugly, toxic way is … honestly really painful.

-

Yeah it’s.

I think it was one thing back in Season 1-4 when these behaviors were portrayed as something over the top that only happens in fiction, especially cartoons. I think it went a little far at times and should have had a little more ‘this is wrong to do (instead of having a fireman help Mari peep into Adrien’s windows), but things like ‘character steals a phone/commits mail crimes/breaks and enters to keep someone else from receiving a message they didn’t intend to send’ is a very common trope and I’m not going to dig into it /that/ much. 

But when Season 5 came and gave us things like Derision where it went from ‘brush it off as cartoony behavior’ to ‘oh no this is stuff we are supposed to take 100% seriously as a trauma response but it’s totally okay because Marinette only had ‘good’ reasons for doing this so that cancels out the fact that it was bad’.

/That/ is when it becomes a problem/

[never-not-ever]

What a drastic turn of events.

After I overshared that pointless ramble of my apartment I decided to go journal real quick. While journaling I started thinking of them and how I haven’t heard from them in over a week and even back then I didn’t respond. I think we last talked on the phone on Christmas. They called that night and I actually answered after being silent for a few weeks. And a few days later we were going to talk on the phone again but I didn’t answer that night and now it’s been 2 weeks of me again being silent. So I thought about how I should text them just to let them know I’m okay and still think of them/they didn’t do anything wrong, it’s me and I just need time to figure things out.

So I typed up a text and while typing got hit with emotions of guilt, shame and so much self hatred accompanied with self harm urges. You know.. punishment, I deserve it, etc. But my mind started going back and forth because I have these grand plans of continuing to clean, I was just feeling so good and productive and proud and now all I wanted to do was hurt myself. Give in to the first urge in over a week. Take advantage of it. After all I could just slap a bandaid on and continue my night of productive cleaning. After self harm everything feels right, like it’s the way things are supposed to be. I can’t explain it but I feel okay, like nothing else is going to get in my way or hurt me because I’ve already done that and punished myself. It’s like “all is right in the world” knowing what just happened. How does that make any sense? Where is the fucking logic in that?!

I told my grandmother that my therapist canceled our appointment tomorrow when really I had planned on canceling in the morning, cause I felt like what’s the point? I’m just wasting her time. But now I’m debating just showing up to therapy. “Hi, how was my week? Well the beginning was fine (when really I overate and watched the scale climb back up), but then I got back in control on Thursday just in time to lose control again Friday and especially Saturday where I spent two days stressing out over that stupid party which speaking of haven’t eaten anything since then because like I said- out of control and I’ve also been awake since 5pm yesterday (I actually don’t plan on going to sleep tonight) oh yea and I self harmed last night after being hit with a wave of bad bad bad emotions. So yea thats how my week went.”

So now my options are to either continue cleaning and listen to my fabulous queue I made earlier, stay up, make some tea, maybe more coffee and Celsius and go to therapy all happy go lucky or say fuck everything, climb back into bed and just continue rotting away on my laptop and Tik Tok, take some trazodone in a little bit, set an alarm for 8am to cancel therapy and then sleep away the rest of the day.

Or maybe a combination of those two including going to therapy just to get that validation. I know I’m a horrible, fucked up person. Believe me. I hate myself and am annoyed with myself more than you ever could.

[itsmearia]

Therapy is wild.

I've been going through two different major life events over the past year and have been really struggling with processing them and managing the stress they bring. I knew that both were going to be finished this week, so I decided to schedule a session for the first time today with that thinking it would just be a little advice on ways to reduce the stress or something. Instead I'm sitting here afterwards realizing that it's much more self-inflicted than I realized. I'll give a quick breakdown of how it went.

We started by asking what I was there for.

I've just been massively stressed out from two major life events and it's having a negative impact on my day to day life and I'm hoping to find ways to fix that now that they seem to be over.

Ok, that's doable. What's been stressing you out?

Well, a year ago my brother had a mental break down. Ran his car into a barricade in an attempt – not outright stated by him but assumed by my parents and I based on the preceding phone calls – to kill himself. My parents went and got him and brought him back to our town letting him stay with them for a bit. A bit turned into months which turned into a year. At some point in there we thought he was doing better and got himself a job, only for him to break down again and start back to square one. We've been doing everything we can to help him – therapy, new medication, support, not pressuring him to do anything and letting him just sort through things at his own pace – and the progress has been great. He seems to be doing well and got his dream job a month or two ago that he's been preparing for. There were a couple of concerns where he seemed to be starting to freak out, but he moved there this week and seems to be really happy, excited, and his old self again. It's great to see and I'm happy about it, it's just been a whole year of a constant stress worrying about him as well as the effect it had on my parents.

I'm glad to hear he's doing better. You mentioned a second event as well?

Last year my mom got diagnosed with cancer. It was caught early and one of the most common & treatable types, but it was still a terrifying thing to hear. She ended up having two surgeries to remove it, countless doctors appointments, and radiation. Which, you know, infinite stress as well as I worried about her and how my dad/brother were handling it. A couple weeks ago they told us the cancer is gone and shouldn't come back once she finishes the week of two a day radiation treatments that were scheduled for this week. So that was thrilling news, probably the happiest I've ever been. We finished those treatments and she has a follow up appointment soon to just make sure everythings good but the doctors are confident we're in the clear. So between the two of those things, they both got resolved this past week and appear to be behind me. Which leaves me sitting here for the first time in a year actually like, fully calm and relaxed. Not feeling like there's someone I have to take care of. Wondering what to do with myself. And hoping I can learn better ways to manage these things so in the future I don't feel like I'm on the verge of a breakdown for months on end.

It was at this point I expected to hear about ways to blow off steam, meditation/breathing techniques, or something of that nature. Instead she hit me with a different question altogether.

How did your friends support you during this year?

Uh, I mean, I didn't really tell them about it. I told them I've got some family issues when it coincided with telling them I couldn't do something. That I was drained/not feeling it. That I need to cancel cause I'm in a bad headspace. I never really went into details though.

I see.

This began a conversation that resulted in the realization that my fear of abandonment – that if I make people uncomfortable, am a downer, or don't always bring positive vibes then they'll just not want to be around me anymore – has resulted in me trying to keep every interaction “light” and has prevented me from having healthy outlets for problems, stress, and advice. That by keeping things to myself in an effort to not stress or worry anyone else, I am not only amplifying the negative effects on myself but also stunting some friendships from reaching their potential because I'm not connecting on that deepest level that stressful situations bring about sometimes. That when you never talk to others about major things happening to you it's hard for them to talk to you about major events happening to them.

We talked for a bit more about that – how it might have come about and ways to decompress from stress now that it appears to be behind me - and then time ran out. I had anticipated just getting a couple quick pointers and moving on, but I think I'm going to go back again. I wish therapy were more normalized when I was younger; who knows how much help it would have been during my formative years. It's just kind of mind blowing to try it out expecting one quick little thing and getting something like that instead.

[marshmallowgoop]

But Do You REALLY Want to Be Internet Famous

A theatre professor of mine once talked at length about YouTube stardom. He said that it’s the dream of a good chunk of young people today.

And I get it, I do. When I first dipped my toes into the world of Internet content creation in my teens, YouTube was never initially a goal... but as the years went by, it became clear that plain-old-oatmeal blogging was falling out of fashion. If I wanted to reach a larger audience online, the way to do it was to kiss text posts goodbye and embrace video editing. A YouTube channel has been on my To Do list for what feels like a millennia.

YouTube, Twitch, and other video-hosting sites are just attractive to people like me—you know, the kind of folks who don’t know how to shut up and want to believe that their opinions are worth listening to. You don’t have to have a degree to YouTube, you don’t have to go through a peer-review process to stream on Twitch, and you can be your own boss in terms of what you want to say and what you want to create. Sure, you’re not gonna have the credibility (nor the stability) of a permanent, “real-deal” career in the field of your choice if online videoing is all you do, but the freedom and flexibility of the pure Internet content creator is appealing.

And, personally, while I sometimes feel I should have pursued academia instead of devoting thousands of hours of my life to this blog, I’m also not particularly interested in being seen only by other academics. I want anyone to be able to interact with my work... and I’m not gonna get that via academic journals.

So, I get it. I wanna YouTube like all the cool kids, too.

But be a YouTube star?

Yeah... can’t say I’m down with that.

The more I Internet, the more being Internet Famous seems appallingly dreadful. When you’re Internet Famous, no matter who you are, there will be people out there who will do anything to slander you. They’ll go back a decade in your Tweet history to find anything that could be even slightly morally suspect. They’ll feel entitled to personal details about you—to your race, your sexuality, your gender identity—and grow angry if you don’t wish to share such private matters that are your own business. They’ll examine every little thing you do as though you are a specimen under their microscope, and I can’t imagine even a day goes by that someone doesn’t throw hate upon you. Maybe being an Internet content creator is freeing, fiercely independent... but being a famous Internet content creator is perhaps anything but. It’s just as scary and restrictive as being famous anyway else.

To those who have known me for a while, it’s no secret that I received my first-ever barrage of anonymous hate last year. These kinds of situations aren’t odd online, of course—in fact, I felt it was quite belated, especially considering my massive array of Unpopular Opinions. I figured it would happen eventually, and I hoped I’d be able to handle it well. I don’t like brushing off any pushback as unwarranted, I’m always open to criticism, and I know answering rudeness with rudeness doesn’t help things. I know that when these things happen, people often sigh at the person receiving the backlash and say, “Well, you absolutely deserve to be called out for those Bad Takes. If you’d just apologize and be better, you wouldn’t have to deal with the abuse.”

Spoilers: I did not handle any of my own situation well. At all. But I did a lot “right.” I apologized profusely for speaking poorly. I devoted hours to composing a new essay to better explain myself and make amends. I tried so hard to be better, more thoughtful, more considerate.

And none of it mattered. A little sleuthing revealed that my harassers were apparently a group of friends who had “meant it at first,” but later found it a fun game. It was a joy to torture me and drag me down. My apologies didn’t matter, and my intentions were worth less than a smashed candy bar on a grocery store bargain rack.

And perhaps I had known it before, but it didn’t fully dawn on me until that moment that it literally does not matter what you do. If there’s a world of people watching, there will always be someone who feels you deserve to be hated and abused. There will always be someone who is disgusted by your mere existence. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

The hate has stopped for me. But its effects are far from gone. I’m suspicious of all anonymous compliments in my inbox. Is it just those same people, prepared to laugh at me for believing their lies? I’m afraid to trust anything or anyone. My heart pounds every time I get a new mail. What did I do wrong this time? I’m scared and exhausted. And I’ve only received about 50 anonymous hate messages in my entire time of being an Internet content creator.

So, how can it feel to have my experiences multiplied by 10? 100? 1,000? 10,000? How can it feel to deal with what I dealt with for a few months every single day? 

Maybe you grow numb to it. Maybe it gets better with time. Maybe the support you receive outweighs the hate so much that it’s all worth it to you.

But as for me? Internet fame is a horrifying goal I could only dream of reaching in the first place... and I don’t think I ever want to reach that dream. Does anyone, truly?

Well, you’re stronger than me if you do.

Because I’d love to attract a wider audience and impact more people, and I’m always working to improve so that I can do so. But the very idea of getting to Internet Famous levels scares the crap out of me. It’s not at all a dream in my eyes—it’s a nightmare.

[coco96]

LDAF - TS Parental/Familial

TONY STARK - PARENTAL

On The Off Chance (Tony Stark X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Mention of spitting in a drink and some threats of violence, and mention of violence Request: Tony stark parental figure with “i know you’re joking but on the off chance you aren’t, no”

Arranged Plans Cancelled (Peter Parker X Fem!Stark!Reader) Warnings: Bad friends Request: Stark!Reader is often hurt by others, like people will arrange plans + blow her off/friends will make plans in front of her + not invite her. people will get her to do their homework for them bc they know she can’t say no. Peter Parker thinks its really unfair but she handles it really well + doesn’t make a fuss. one day Steve/Tony/someone accidentally upsets her (maybe they cancel plans she’s been really looking forward to or something) and Peter just loses it. she’s really shocked that he noticed and he’s standing up for her. She goes to Midtown too …

Homework Struggles (Tony Stark X Fem!Teen!Reader) Request: What about a reader x father figure tony where the reader is really struggling in school and feels like she’s failing him but instead of being upset he just helps them out and discovers they have adhd and gets them the help they need?

Accidentally Coming Out (Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Accidentally coming out, fear of homophobia Request: … reader accidentally makes a comment about being gay and panics bc she’s not out to him yet? And she tries to run away but someone catches her and brings her home?

Taking the Lead (Tony Stark X Son!Reader) Warnings: Spoilers to Infinity War and Endgame, death Requests: … the one who survives in infinity turns to dust and the one did is alive. the reader didn’t urn to dust and he missed his father, even throught they don’t have nice relationship. he learns that he has a sister and he helped to take care of them as he is like a father figure to Morgan. when endgame happened, the reader do the snap. it like the reader do the snap instead of tony

More Like Pepper (Tony Stark X Teenage!Reader) Request: Could I request a fic where the reader is Tony’s kid but lowkey has no time for the teams shit and is savage?

Hiding Hickies (Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Hickies/bruises Request: Would you be open to writing a tony x daughter reader where the daughter goes out with a boy for the first time and has to hide hickies? And tony finds out and she’s expecting him to freak out but he just accepts it and is really chill about it?

Metallic Limbs (Peter Parker X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Mention of injury and loss of limbs, mention of surgery Request: … Reader is a quadruple amputee after the Chitauri attack in Manhattan. Tony, As the one who found her in the rubble, feels inclined to watch over her and help her in any way he can. So he has her fitted with state of the art cybernetic limbs. Years later, reader is coming to the avengers HQ to get a tune up and she meets the friendly neighbourhood sideman without the mask. Tony is unsure if he’s okay with them being so chummy together.

Never There (Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Absent father, swearing, threatening Request: ... reader has been under Tony’s financial care since she was a child but he never saw her as his child and saw no need to spend time with her until after the Ultron situation. But with all the years or ignorance, is the damage already done?

Science Fair (Tony Stark X Son!Reader) Warnings: Mention of neglectful parent Request: Son male reader x tony stark where tony wants to be better of a parent than Howard to male reader

Bitten (Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Blood, near death Request: One more please if available. Tony stark and daughter were she gets bitten by a vampire and tony and team are extremly worried and strange is the only one that can save her? Fluff and angst. Pepper is her mom.

Left Behind (Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Mention of death of a parent, a wittle bit of swearing Request: … Tony wants to adopt a kid and he choiced the reader. But the reader is actually Tony’s child by blood m, but he doesn’t know that. and she knows that she is relateted and hates Tony for ‘leaving’ her. …

Looking for Advice (Tony Stark X Son!Reader) Request: Could you maybe do a tony stark x son male reader where the male reader ask for advise to ask a girl out

Dentist Appointment (Tony X Daughter!Reader) Request: Could you write one where the reader needs to have oral surgery to remove some problem teeth but she’s petrified to make the call. But she’s in tears all nigh from the pain? Her dad Tony stark, makes the call behind her back cause he hates seeing her in pain. When they arrive at the hospital she nearly freaks out saying he betrayed her so he hugs her and says it will be ok; but when he did that he also got her in the neck with a sedative to knock her out to make it easier on everyone? Lol

Session (Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader) TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM AND DEPRESSION Request: … reader is Tony’s daughter and has a history with self harming so he sends her to therapy for depression. Tony went to intro session with y/n and she says that she doesnt cut anymore and still maintains the lie and then Tony begins to notice all of the signs that point to her self harming and realises she never actually stopped? If thats okay? If not, i understand?

Dip (Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Depression, self-doubt Request: Tony stark x daughter reader where her grades slip bad because of depression and she panics but Tony’s there for her and makes sure she knows it’s okay to fail?

Helping (Avengers X Teen!Reader) Warnings: Bulimia, throwing up, bullying, self conscious reader. Request: I was wondering if you would write one where the reader is Tony’s daughter (although all of them are protective of her) and she has bulimia and she gets caught purging by one of the team members.

Feeling Loved Again (Father!Tony X Teen!Reader) Warnings: Swearing Request:I had an idea. Where the reader is Tony Starks daughter (15-16 yr old) but she lives with her mom. She’s kind of tomboyish and dyes her hair funky colors so her mom gets sick of it and drops her off at the tower unexpectedly and tells tony she’s his problem now. So he gladly signs the custody papers. He totally adores her and celebrates her first night with him with take out and movies with the whole team.

Parker! (Peter Parker X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Bit of bullying, angry over protective dad. Request: Tony Stark’s daughter is popular and in a band and at a concert, Peter is getting picked on for being alone so Reader goes and kisses him and hugs him, surprising everyone with their secret relationship, much to Tony’s disapproval.

Five Days (Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader) SERIOUS WARNING: EATING DISORDER Other Warnings: Bullying/ teasing Request: Hey love! I was wondering if you could write something along the lines of where the reader has been in recovery from an eating disorder and then has a hard relapse? Maybe with a platonic or father Tony Stark?

It’ll Work Out (Stony X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Spoilers of Civil War, emotions Request: Hey can you do one where reader is stonys daughter and it’s just about how the family is torn apart lots of angst ends in fluff

New Environment (Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Mentions of bad background and illegal activities. Request: Do you think you can do a roleplay where tonys daughter doesn’t come from the same background as him and maybe is coming from the ‘ghetto where she lived with her mom and she’s trying to act tough and stuff buts she’s actually really scared? …

Helping (Avengers X Teen!Reader) Warnings: Bulimia, throwing up, bullying, self conscious reader. Request: I was wondering if you would write one where the reader is Tony’s daughter (although all of them are protective of her) and she has bulimia and she gets caught purging by one of the team members.

Sit Down (Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Injury Request: … reader sprains her ankle and still tries to do loads of things and won’t let it heal because she’s stubborn af and tony gets all protective? …

Fight Me (Peter Parker X Fem!Reader, Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Threatening (not serious) Request: Hey can I get a Tony x daughter reader where she’s always says fight me like someone says “I Was sitting there” and she says fight me ect. Anyway lots of fluff a little Peter x reader too- Og I forgot Tony x daughter reader fight me she like pure™ thanks😘

To Make You Happy (Tony X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Hints of depression Request: … She’s been depressed and going through a rough time. So to cheer her up her dad gets her a kitten even though he isn’t fond of animals. He knew she always wanted one. And she does start to cheer up and they share a dad daughter fluffy moment.

My Daughter (Tony X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Mention of death of a parent Request: … Tony has a teenage daughter he didn’t know about but the mom dies, so he takes custody and introduces her around and just overall becomes a dad of a teenager? (You don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable)

Supporting Dad (Tony Stark X Reader) Request: Could you do reader being Tony’s kid and they’re as smart as him and decide to go into music instead of inventing? Like with Tony being the super proud band parent at every concert or somth about him being supportive

Caring Father (Tony X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Self Conscious reader, protective father, verbal abuse, body shaming Request: … reader who is on the phone with their mom and Tony (their bf, or dad, you choose!), being the overprotective dad/bf he is, has been noticing that the reader has been skipping meals. Like, the reader would only eat around lunchtime, and sometimes dinner, but thats it. He overhears her mom chastising her about how the reader needs to lose weight, ect. Can it be really fluffy?

Delirious (Tony X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Sickness Request: Tony stark x daughter request? Where she’s sick with a really high fever and completely delirious and keeps saying crazy shit. As concerned as tony is he can’t help not to laugh at some of her antics so he takes video. When she’s better he shows her the video and they both share a laugh over it.

Bookworms (Loki X Fem!Reader) Request: Hey could I request one where the reader is Tony’s daughter and she does a bunch of reading with Loki, but finds out he hasn’t read Harry Potter, freaks, and makes him read all of them?

Your Daughter (Tony X Daughter!Reader)     |     Part 2 Warnings: Minor Spoilers of Civil War Request: ... reader is Tony’s teenage daughter and he doesn’t know about her and during the airport scene in Civil war this teenage girl arrives in an iron man suit and stops the fight and Tony’s like who are you and then she’s replies with “your daughter” ...

Telling Him (Peter Parker X Male!Reader) Warnings: Mentions of coming out and past murder Request: ... reader is Tony’s son (probably an adoption situation?) and is closeted gay… maybe after Peter is already a part of the avengers, and not during Civil War? ...

I’m Here Now (Tony X Daughter!Reader)     |     Part 2 Warnings: Mention of car crash, death, injury Request: ... Her and her mom got into a bad accident. The mom dies and reader needs a blood transfusion so when the drs test her they match her to Stark. He gets the call and rushes over. Realizing he’s a dad to a teenage girl now he has the team ready a room and he welcomes her into his heart and makes her feel extra special since she lost her mom.

Who Is It? (Tony X Daughter!Reader)     |     Part 2 Request: ... Tonys daughter is sitting in the living room being like ‘hey I hacked into your system 'cause I’m your super smart daughter and have no where else to go’ and Tony starts to get really protectiv over her. And then finds out that she is falling in love with Peter, but Tony is basically the last one to find out? ...

Missing My Voice (Tony X Fem!Reader, Peter x Fem!Reader)     |     Part 2 Warnings: Blood, surgery, needles, injury Request: ... reader loves to sing and play the guitar and a ton of other instruments but goes mute during a mission (due to an injury), and how it impacts Peter and Tony? And can Tony like, go to a ton of doctors and stuff to try and find a solution? ...

Sit Down (Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Injury Request: ... reader sprains her ankle and still tries to do loads of things and won’t let it heal because she’s stubborn af and tony gets all protective? ...

Being Tony Stark’s Adopted Daughter Would Include…

Be Careful (Tony X Daughter!Reader, Peter X Fem!Reader)     |     Part 2 Warnings: Blood, getting shot Request: ... reader is Tony’s teenage daughter who’s dating Peter and she’s just the type of person everyone loves but she’s also a really good hacker and fighter so she does missions sometimes and she ends up getting shot? ...

Caring Father (Tony X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Self Conscious reader, protective father, verbal abuse, body shaming Request: ... reader who is on the phone with their mom and Tony ... has been noticing that the reader has been skipping meals. Like, the reader would only eat around lunchtime, and sometimes dinner, but thats it. He overhears her mom chastising her about how the reader needs to lose weight, ect. ...

Approving (Peter Parker X Reader, Tony X Daughter!Reader) Request: ... Tony says to his daughter that he doesn’t like the idea of them dating but behind her back he’s talking to the Avengers about how happy he is that his daughter found a good guy. ...

Warning Signs (Tony and Peter X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Mentions of Domestic abuse Request: ... reader goes to peter Parkers school and she also started interning at the avengers tower as a lab assistant? She gets along with the team and considers them family. She ends up not showing up at school or the tower for a few days so Peter goes to her house to check on her and finds out she’s being abused by her parents. ...

Parental Advice (Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader)     |     Part 2 Warnings: Teasing Request: ... Tony goes on with his life as an Avenger and all and it’s getting harder on him ... Meanwhile, you’re struggling with your social life ... you become pretty lonely and your favorite place is the tower with the avengers ... Finally, one morning, you and Tony are both up early(like, 4 am) and you talk to each other about your troubles. ...

Being Pepper’s Adopted Daughter and Tony Adopting You Would Include…

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TONY STARK - FAMILIAL

A Little Dense (Tony Stark X Sister!Reader, Clint Barton X Fem!Reader) Warnings: A bit of swearing Request: Clint and tony’s sister. You are trying to tell him that Clints gonna be a dad and tony is gonna be a uncle? The rest of the team finds out at the end. Some cute and fluff.

Meeting Her Husband (Loki X Stark!Reader) Warnings: Pregnancy Request: Tony and sister reader: he and the team discover you are in a secret relationship with Loki and you both are happily married and you are a few months pregnant with loki’s baby and he is not happy about it.

A Little Talk (Tony Stark X Brother!Reader)     |     Part 2 Warnings: Swearing, alcoholism Request: one with Tony as your big brother and you’re both going through a hard time or something?

Unfinished Business (Tony X Brother!Reader) Warnings: Death, death of parents, presumed death, a lot of emotions coming your way Request: … Reader is Tony Starks brother who, at a young age, runaway and now is coming back at Tony? But like Reader has some sort of a supernatural power like seeing ppl? …

I Still Love You (Bucky Barnes X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Spoilers of Civil War Request: With the stark reader and Bucky one, can you do where he blames himself for the death of readers and Tony’s parents, but she still loves him, even though Tony doesn’t allow it. Eventually Tony and reader have a heart to heart and gives her his blessing. Bucky puts aside his guilt?

Passing The Test. (Pietro X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Death threats, unplanned pregnancy, minor violence. Request: … reader being Tony´s sister. She dates Pietro for a long time and gets pregnant, and the avengers find out (exept tony) and their reaction, and at the end Tony realize because of her tummy and wants to kill pietro but at the end he is proud …

Better Choice (Tony Stark X Cousin!Reader, Peter Parker X Reader) Warnings: One swears and mentions of bed relationships and breakups Request: The reader is Tonys younger cousin (teenager) and she starts falling for Peter and tony just pets it happen because he’s better than any boyfriend the reader has had before

Where’s Nat? (Avengers X Teen!Reader) Warnings: Blood. Looooots of blood. Request: teen reader has period and goes to avengers for help but Nat isn’t home – Tony is her uncle!

Overprotective much? (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: One swear word, threatening, flirting, drinking and attempted murder by an overprotective brother. Request: ... reader is Tony´s sister and she is really beautiful (thats why Tony won´t introduce her) and the avengers are surprised and start bothering Tony and he gots really jealous and protective ...

[unmaskedagain]

Oh Lady Luck (How I miss you so!)

Okay; first off. I hated this. I had a massive case of writer’s block while doing it and lost inspiration near the end.

Oh Lady Luck (How I miss you so!)

           Bustier’s class was the luckiest in school, everyone knew it. They got to go on the most amazing trips, win contest after contest, competition after competition, met all sorts of celebrities, frequently got to meet Ladybug, through the best dances and school plays, and always seemed to have a pep in their step. Anything any of the students went after they always managed to get. Everyone knew Bustier’s class was the luckiest in school. Then one day that changed dramatically.

“You’ve changed,” Alya accused Marinette after the class voted her out as Class president. “You become a bully.”

           Alix snorted, “More like a jealous bitch.”

           There were nods from the other students in class. Lila smiled at Marinette; happy that her promise to ruin the girl was coming true.

“You’re always so mean to Lila,” Rose added. “It’s not nice.”

“You’re worse than Chloe now,” Kim glared.

           Juleka frowned, “We miss the old Marinette.”

“You should’ve chilled out like I told you to, dudette,” Nino said with a shake of his head, clearly disappointed.

“We can’t be your friends anymore,” Alya crossed her arms.

           Marinette had listen to them quietly as they relayed reason after reason why they were ending their friendships with her; all to do with Lila. She didn’t bother to look at Adrien. He had warned her what was going to happen; Nino had told him. There had also been a group text apparently. Adrien made it clear he stood with Marinette. Even more so, when he chose to sit with her in the back of the class, a fierce glare on his face at the other students.

The bluenette placed down her pencil, closed her sketchbook and said, “Fine. Then we’re not friends anymore.”

“That’s counts double for me,” Adrien hissed. “Lose my number. In fact, don’t bother; I’ll just change it. That goes for every last one of you. I’ll be informing my Father and Nathalie that only Chloe and Marinette are on my visitors list.”

           The class blinked in shock. Not expecting that reaction from the blond boy who was usually so amicable and nice.

           Chloe watched with amused eyes. She had been sentenced to the back of the room not long after Marinette. “We’ve never been friends but consider all extra little perks you’ve gotten used to: dead and over with.”

           That was it. None of the other students knew what to say or do. They hadn’t gotten the reaction they expected. Marinette didn’t seem to care. Adrien seemed ready to set them on fire. Chloe looked rather pleased at the idea of seeing them burn. Most shrugged it off; figuring at least two of the three (Marinette and Adrien) would come crawling back in no time.

           They didn’t.

           Things started to change for the students in Bustier’s class the next day.

           Lila woke up in the morning to an email confirming that she would no longer being a model or any type of employee for the Gabriel Agreste brand. Or as Nathalie put it when the sausage hair girl called her, “We will no longer be needing your services, Miss Rossi. Do not contact us again.” Click.

           That was when Lila realized her plan of using Gabriel to get Adrien under her thumb had went up in flames. She hoped that Adrien wasn’t informed so that maybe she could still use his father as a threat against the boy.

           When she go to class, the blond model sent her a vicious smirk. Lila paled. She knew without a doubt that Adrien didn’t just know Lila was fired, he was the one got her fired.

           Nino woke up to the news that the gig he was due to play, his big break, had replaced him. It would’ve been huge for his career.

Oh well, he thought, back to DJ-ing for birthday parties.

           Alya accidently dropped her phone in the toilet; ruining hundreds of videos and pictures for the Ladyblog.

           Alix took a dive while skating; broke her ankle and the watch her dad gave her.

           Max broke his glasses.

           Kim got food poisoning.

           Ivan’s dad ran over his drum set while parking in the garage.

           Rose tried to call Prince Ali and found out he changed his number.

           Nathaniel spilled coffee all over his Ladybug comic strips. Marc had been pissed.

           Juleka’s mom accidently put bleach in with a load of her laundry; it ruined everything.

           By the time they had all got to class, all the students were in a terrible mood. However, when Marinette walked in with a box full of delicious smelling breakfast pastries; they perked up. The bluenette always seemed to know when they needed a pick me up. And there was nothing like a treat from the Dupain-Cheng Bakery.

           Marinette didn’t acknowledge any of their presences. She walked straight to the back of the classroom, sat in her seat between Chloe and Adrien. “Morning!” She beamed at her friends. “I brought treats for the three of us.”

“Awesome!” Adrien smiled, quickly opening the box and snagging a chocolate croissant. “Delicous, Thank you” He said. Or least they thought he said that. His mouth was full and it was mostly garbled.

           Chloe rolled her eyes. She grabbed a mixed berries and cream cheese pastry, “Perfect way to start the day. Thank you, Marinette.”

           Marinette took out her favorite: a berry and jasmine scone. Then she promptly through the box away; making clear that she hadn’t brought any for anyone else. “Anything for my friends.”

“We’ll do lunch at Le Grand Paris,” Chloe said. “On me of course. The chef there is to die for.”

           The other students visibly wilted. Alya in particular who loved going to Le Grand Paris as her mother was the head chef.

           It all went downhill from there.

           Over the next week things went from bad to worse for the students.

           Bustier told the class their trip the Presidential office was cancelled due to an unexpected flooding incident. The plan had been for the class to tour the office and have amazing picnic on the beach afterwards

           Lila’s mother, who had been busy nearly 24/7, officially went on vacation, meaning she plenty of time to spend with her daughter. Her daughter was panicked when her mother inquired about visiting her school.

           Alya discovered that the hits to her site had started to declined dramatically. She didn’t have time to worry about that as her internship with a local new studio had been cancelled; something about realizing Alya didn’t have enough experience. So her summer plans were cancelled.

           Nino’s Dj equipment sparked or shorted out or something but nothing would work anymore. He had cancel the rest of his gigs until he could buy new ones.

           Kim lost a swim match against Ondine.

           Markov got a virus and broke down causing Max to break down in tears.

           Nathaniel lost the expensive sketch pencil he won in a contest.

           Alix’s grandmother brought her a new dresses; frilly monstrosities that Alix’s forced her to wear to school for the entire week.

           Rose, Ivan, and Juleka were heartbroken when Luka announced he was going Solo.

           It didn’t help anyone’s mood that every day Marinette, Chloe, and Adrien walked into class with big smiles on their faces and pleasantly discussed their amazing plans.

           On Wednesday, Adrien invited Marinette and Chloe to come with him to meet the Prime Minister.

           Apparently, Adrien’s dad had called in favors so the three would tour Palais Bourbon, where the French Parliament meets.

“He said I could invite all my friends!” Adrien smiled.

           Marinette had been shocked at this. Until Adrien explained that his aunt had threatened to reveal to the world Gabriel Agreste’s neglectful behavior, his tendency break child labor laws, and his need to isolate Adrien. Thanks to his aunt, Adrien had a much free-er schedule and Gabriel had been in therapy for weeks. “I’ll bring food from the bakery. We can have a picnic!”

“Beach day!” Chloe cheered.

           No one else so much as smiled at the news. Even more so when pictures surfaced on Friday of Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Ondine, Marc, Mireille, and Aurore with various members of Parliament; including the prime minister.

           Thursday, Chloe loudly invited Marinette and Adrien to an event for her mother, “It’s a fashion show! It’s tonight. Adrien can relax behind the scenes, while Mari and me model on the run way. Mama’s lost a few models so I told her I could recommend a few friends.”

“I’m modeling!” Marinette paled so much, her friends were sure she’d pass out.

“I get to do nothing!” Adrien grinned.

           Pictures of Chloe and Marinette modeling exploded across the internet; multiple fashion websites and online magazines deeming the girls’ Style Queen’s secret weapon and modeling next big thing.

           Most of the guys in class shrugged it off. But a few of the girls turned greened with envy; Lila in particular.

           On Friday, Marinette invited Adrien and Chloe to meet her uncle and her cousin, “He’s back in town on Saturday and he wants to meet all my friends.”

           No one else in class paid too much to that. Who cared about Marinette’s uncle? Or her cousin? They were probably just as stuck-up and nasty as she was.

           Then on Saturday, picture of the same group who went to Parliament, plus Luka, with Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale started trending on the internet. Jagged Stone posted a tweet about how awesome his honorary niece was, with a picture of him and Marinette. Clara posted a pic with her favorite little cousin, Marinette.

           Alya couldn’t believe her eyes and immediately started texting Marinette for the deets. She received a text back saying; new number; who dis?

           Nino flat-out called Adrien only hear that the number had been disconnected.

           The rest of the class faced the same issue.

           And then one by one, they each remembered that they weren’t friends with any of the tree Ostracized students anymore.

           Monday, Alya found out that BugOut, a competing Ladybug blog, had been officially endorsed by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Something that hadn’t happened with the Ladyblog.

           Max lost the science fair. For the first time. He had to go see the school guidance counselor.

           Kim got kicked off the team for his poor grade.

           Lila’s finally called the school to schedule an appointment. Lila was Akumatized within the five minutes.

           Alix’s grandma brought her more clothes; some which were tacky sweaters with cats all over them

           Nathaniel misplaced his new sketch book, with his redone Ladybug comic strips. He never found it. Marc wasn’t happy.

           Nino got a call to dj a huge event only to have to decline as he hadn’t bought new equipment yet.

           It was Adrien that brought in breakfast for the other two; Mcdonalds. Much to the Chloe and Marinette’s dismay, but they didn’t say anything as the boy was clearly happy about being allowed to eat it for the first time.

           Marinette unwrapped her sausage Mcgriddle, wondering who she hurt in a past life, “Jagged is doing a private concert. You two want to come?”

           Adrien nodded, his mouth full of fried hash brown and bacon. “Count me in,” They think he said.

           Chloe held the egg mcmuffin in her hand like it was physically hurting her to do so, “I’m in,” she said. “And I’m bringing breakfast tomorrow.”

           The class was dismayed at missing at meeting Jagged Stone again.

“Are you going to invite us?” Alya asked with a huff.

           Marinette didn’t even look in her direction, “Sorry Uncle Jagged said I can only invite my friends.”

           Ouch.

           Over the course of the next few months, things continued to fall apart for the class. They tried planning one of their usual amazing dances, only for everything to crash and burn. Then they remembered that Marinette planned everything, and before her, Chloe.

           The class never made enough money fundraising so nearly all planned class trips were canceled.

           They had to deal with seeing pictures of Marinette, Adrien, and Chloe and all their friends meeting all sorts of celebrities.

           Ladybug disowned the Ladyblog; causing Alya to burst into tears.

           No matter what any of the students tried, did, competed in, they never won. They practically failed at everything.

           Rose tried to bake cookies for the class; her kitchen caught on fire.

           Max applied for science camp; all spots were full.

           Nathaniel who had lost his comic drawing for the twelfth time in a row was finally told by Marc to take a hike.

           Nino lost his hat, broke his glasses, a dog at his homework, and he tripped landed face down in the mud; all on the way to school one morning.

           The students were constantly late, frustrated, and always seemed to have something accidently spilled or thrown on their clothes.

           Lila’s  mother, who finally decided to just randomly drop by the school after being told repeatedly by her daughter that it was closed so she couldn’t do the appointment for months, was shocked to say the least when it was clearly opened and active. She had a long talk with the Principle and all of Lila’s lies were revealed to class.

           Class was very apologetic to the three ostracized students after that but it didn’t matter. The three made it clear they weren’t interested in renewing their friendships.

           By the end of the year Bustier’s class went from the luckiest in school to the unluckiest kids on the planet.

           The students of Bustier’s class couldn’t help but wonder aloud why they lucked changed do much.

           Tikki, Plagg, and Pollen, hidden away in their chosens’ school bags just smirked.

[butterflyinthewell]

I knew we were in for prolonged drama when dad broke his hip in August last year. I finally got it clarified that he broke the femoral neck, which connects the ball part that goes to the hip to the long part of the femur. He had surgery where screws were put in since it was a clean break and it was called good.

Supposedly it healed, and then weeks after therapy that got him walking again, he complained that it’s “clicking”. Granted, my dad is not good at describing internal experiences and anything he says can mean a myriad of things and he won’t elaborate when asked to.

He saw a doctor again, got X-rays and they said they don’t see anything wrong with the bone, it must be ligaments. They took the X-rays laying down, which doesn’t show if the bone goes out of whack when he’s standing with weight on it.

He goes to get more therapy, they say it’s arthritis.

Today, the therapists canceled all future appointments because they think the bone is unstable. Dad has to go see the orthopedic surgeon again. They can’t just give a referral, he has to get driven all the way out to the ass end of my city just for a piece of paper that says yes he can go there to be seen, then he’ll go back again some time later to get more X-rays or whatever. It’s so inaccessible. My mom can’t drive that far, so we have to get my sister (who is a teacher) to see if she can take time off. If she can’t, we have to call a transport service. It’s such bullshit.

And this happened because my dad wouldn’t stop getting up in the middle of the night. He has very advanced Parkinson’s and basically doesn’t function as a person anymore. He sits around purposely doing things to make life as hard as possible for mom and me. The disability part isn’t his fault, but his behavior is.

I resent the fuck out of all of this not because he’s disabled, but because he emotionally abused me ever since my autistic traits became obvious during my childhood and he treated me as if I’ll grow out of it after my diagnosis. I was always pushed to figure things out, struggle, suffer and anything that went wrong was my fault. If I needed doctors and stuff, he made disparaging comments about what a dramatic brat I was and that I could “stop it anytime”.

But everybody kisses dad’s ass and cajoles him for all the needs he punished me for having. He has become everything he said I better not be when I grew up because there’s nothing worse a person can be than useless. That’s his quote, not mine. I’m angry at his utter and complete hypocrisy.

Now he’s causing us more stress and fear and it’s because he made a choice to make our lives as difficult as possible and got more than he bargained for. My mom is angry and stressed out over all this and now she has even more work heaped on her that I can’t help her with.

I’m aware this is shitty of me, but I’m just so tired of his medical drama. I can be patient for literally any other disabled person who isn’t my dad because they didn’t treat me like shit.

And this is just the kind of medical luck my family always gets. If it looks good, it means it will go bad and it’s working exactly as predicted.

I’m so Tired.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Five:Sensory Integration 1

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: A Friday full of teasing for Shane ends in a steak dinner with a blue-eyed beefcake. If you don’t finish this chapter hungry for one or the other, if not both, I haven’t done my job! Lol! (For inspo on Sy’s date outfit, think back to that one Men’s Health photoshoot Hen did and just imagine his hair shorter. That’s what I did. lol!) 

Click me to catch up on the story and other stuff by Hannah!

Word Count: 4k (This date got away from me! Lol! And it’s only half over!)

Warnings: Mostly this is utter fluffy fluff, but I’m gonna put the following warnings on, anyway. Language, mature themes, alcohol consumption, borderline food worship (Shane may have a problem, I definitely do! Lol!) Also, pretty much every Sy fic I’ve read says that his given name is Logan, so...should his given name be used henceforth, that’s what I’m going with because it seems the most cannon and I like it and if it’s good enough for Wolverine...

Author’s Note: So, guys, this is crazy. First off, the reaction and love Sy and Shane’s story has been getting has taken me completely off guard and utterly made my day/week. (I’m serious. Every note makes my heart do a happy dance. A like, a reblog, a comment. It all means the world to me. Thank you for your feedback and for sharing this story.) Second, YOUR FEEDBACK MATTERS TO ME! Because initially, idk what I was thinking. I was going to skim over their first date and like…not write it…and I kept getting notes as I worked on further chapters to the tune of “can’t wait for this date!” and I thought…hmm…well, the date must be written! So, here it is, the first half-ish, of Shane and Sy’s first date. I hope it’s all you were expecting…or at least half of all you were expecting! Lol! More to come in part two of Sens Integ! (BTW, fun fact, these chapter titles are all named after treatments that therapists actually use on their patients sometimes! Lol!)

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee @bloodyinspiredfuck @agniavateira @oddsnendsfanfics @omgkatinka@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland @speakerforthedead0@tumblnewby @suavechops

Friday morning. She was up with the sun. And a bit before, really. Today was the day. Her first date with Sy. She’d taken extra care in the shower, less clumsy, thank God! She shaved her legs because she had chosen to wear a knee-length blue dress with a scoop neck and cap sleeves in wrinkle-proof Jersey knit since it would be in her tote bag all day. She was not shaving because she thought anything would happen tonight with Sy. She didn’t think she was ready.

That is, she was ready, but, only physically. Emotionally, mentally, she would need to prepare for him a bit longer before taking him as a lover. She hoped he was on the same page.

He had an appointment in the early afternoon. He greeted her with his warm “Hello, sunshine.” Following it up by telling her how pretty she looked today, causing blush to burn in her cheeks. She’d reciprocated, even though he was in his typical tee and shorts look. It was still true. They got on their usual bikes to warm up for about 15 minutes, and then took to the leg press to try to advance his strengthening.

“I’m really proud of your progress! You wouldn’t have been able to do this much weight two weeks ago!” She encouraged him.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. Now, we are going to do some drills next. Simple ones, but they aren’t going to be fun for you. I’ve chosen to do them on your last day of the week for a reason. You may be sore. Ice and whatever you take OTC if you must. Ibuprofen or acetaminophen. But try the ice first. It shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Okay.” He conceded, dejected.

“Stretching afterward.” She promised.

“Okay!” He pepped up. She knew he just loved an excuse to have her hands on him.

Later, as he lay on the mat, sweaty from the exertion of the drills, with her up there with him having to use her whole body to leverage the proper stretch out of his hip flexors, she felt the heavy weight of his gaze. She tried to look anywhere but those sapphire eyes below her. They were too vulnerable. She couldn’t handle that right now. Not here.

“Shane?” Dammit, he was gonna make her.

“Hmm?” She looked down at him, smile meeting smile.

“I just…” he couldn’t seem to get out the words. But she thought she understood what he was feeling.

“I know, Sy. I know.” She gently patted his outer thigh where she had been bracing her hand for the stretch, and let his leg back down, while dismounting the mat, as well.

“Well, that’s about the hour. Any questions before I let you go?”

“Are you as excited for tonight as I am?” He asked. She chuckled. She couldn’t imagine him being more excited than she was!

“Yes! Hehe! But I still kinda meant about therapy, Sy.”

“Oh, right. Are you excited to finish up with your therapy patients at therapy today so I can pick you up from the therapy clinic and take you on our date?”

“Just because you say therapy 20 times doesn’t make it about therapy.” She laughed.

“Okay, I do have a question for you, since I’m here.”

“Shoot.” She encouraged.

He stood and held her face, taking it into a kiss so devastatingly and painfully tender, she could not process what to do next. She was leaning toward fainting. But then tackling him onto the mat again seemed an attractive option. She settled for placing her hands on his waist, ready to control the situation as need arose. But after a brief moment of slight deepening, he broke away, still holding her face in his large strong hands.

“Ahem. That’s a good question. Why don’t I have you a reply later this evening?”

“Sounds good to me, sunshine.” He grinned widely, and waved a quiet goodby to her.

She walked to the doorway of the small room to watch him walk out…his gait still uneven from his injury but improving enough that she could tell he once took very…confident strides. She could almost picture it. She sighed, forgetting herself for a moment until Anita came up behind her walking her elderly patient with a gait belt and front wheeled walker.

"Is that a bit of drool on your chin, Shane?" she said quietly, but still startling the younger therapist from her reverie.

"Oh, uh, hey." she checked her chin, absentmindedly, late in getting the joke, and rolled her eyes. "Funny, Nita. Do you need anything?"

"Nope, Gladys and I are just headed to the gym for a few minutes on the NuStep to round out her treatment." Nita grinned at Shane.

"Who was that handsome young man that just left, Shane?" Gladys asked her, as women of her…demographic tended to do.

"He's just one of our patient's Miss Gladys. But I can't tell you his name. It's against the privacy policy." She explained.

"Oh, okay. Well, if I was a few years younger, I'd let ya give him MY name…and my telephone number." she smirked with pride in herself. All three ladies giggled.

"I'm pretty sure he's spoken for, Gladys." Anita broke the news to her randy patient, smirking at her coworker.

"Shame! Well, that's one lucky young lady!" Gladys hobbled on with the walker as Anita cued her not to let the device get too far ahead of her feet. Shane was beet red from the whole interaction. At least she wouldn't have to wear blush tonight.

Her day finally finished, notes done, and final communications sent,  the most important (in her opinion, probably not her employer's) message of them all was next. The text to Sy that he could head toward the clinic to pick her up.

She touched up her eye makeup, applied another coat of mascara, and dabbed on some of her favorite lipstick in a deep red that complimented her skin tone. She also spritzed on a bit of her favorite Armani perfume before slipping on her dress and black ballet flats and sliding on a pair of simple hoop earrings. She'd had her hair pulled up all day in a clip, so it should be pleasantly wavy when she took it down…and with a bit of flipping, shaking out, and finger diffusing, it was.

She looked in the mirror. She was ready.

Was she ready? She examined herself in the full length mirror in the empty locker room at the clinic. The dress and the shoes suddenly seemed all wrong, both together and as individual pieces for the occasion. She looked great, it wasn't that…but…was it right for tonight? Should she cancel? Was she being ridiculous? Clearly she was, as she'd already sent the message telling Sy he could come get her. But the closer she got to being ready to go, the less ready she felt. Those butterflies were suddenly clawing at her esophagus, disrupting the bile in her stomach, and threatening to choke off her air supply. They were no longer pleasantly fluttering. She felt like she had a boot against her windpipe.

She was snapped out of the panic attack when she heard her phone go off. A message from Sy.

Your chariot, m'lady. Should I come in and get ya?

She grinned like a lunatic. How could she have considered calling tonight off?

Nay, m'lord, verily the gates be locked. I shall use the rear exit and meet thee around yonder forsooth.

Wow, you ran with that one. *laughing in tears emoji*

I have that tendency. Lol. *monocle wearing emoji*

She grabbed her bags, walked out the back door, and tossed the one that wasn't her purse into her vehicle, which was parked nearby and walked around to the front. He was standing on the sidewalk near that edge of the building.

The sun was just setting, and the light from it hit him so bewitchingly that it took away her breath. Not in the frightening way of the panic attack she'd just had, but in the nice way, like right before you surface from a deep dive and you know the sweet relief of oxygen is imminent. She assessed his ensemble with approval. Black books, sleek dark blue jeans, and a sapphire v-neck polo that even in the low light of near dusk made his blue eyes dance with vibrant intensity against his fading tan. His hair was starting to grow out ever so slightly, but it was still very close cropped. His beard, she could tell, had been finely groomed, combed, and styled. He looked…well, she'd never looked up the word "handsome" in the dictionary, but she imagined it would describe the image before her quite succinctly. And alternatively, Sy's image could be used as an illustration in the reference book, itself.

The best part, though, was the look on his face when he saw her.

She felt like he'd never properly looked at her, perhaps. Maybe he wasn't expecting a dress, or loose hair, or red lips. Or maybe it was a combo of the whole Date Shane package he was seeing before him. As his eyes beheld her, he almost looked confused. As if she was a stand-in. Or maybe an alien. Some body-snatcher. Only he wasn't frightened. She was having a hard time working out his expression as she'd really never seen it before, and particularly, never aimed in her direction. He said one word.

"Wow." It was reverent. Not a whisper. But barely a decibel above.

Again, her cheeks required no artificial pigmentation.

"Hey. You look…you certainly scrub up good, mister." she giggled nervously, feeling immensely awkward at her inability to properly compliment the chiseled image of Adonis before her. His every muscle hugged to perfection by the fabric covering it. How did you even begin to tell such perfection how perfect it was?

"You…Shane, I don't remember the last time I saw anyone look so beautiful." he frowned, as if trying to recall, then giving up with a smile, and leaning in to kiss her cheek. He lingered a moment to hug her, hold her as the day faded, breathe her in. She did the same. He was freshly showered and wearing cologne, as he often did, but it rarely hit her so solidly as it did tonight. She loved this scent. Woody, but earthy, with notes of bergamot, a kind of musky scent similar to amber, but more masculine, and something spicy that she loved. The combination exploded like an olfactory fireworks display.

The shirt was an unthinkably soft cotton (blended she thought perhaps with kitten, she could not stop touching it.) and the warmth of him radiated into her as his chest rose and fell over the course of his numerous breaths as they stood there holding each other and enjoying this feast for the senses.

"You ready for supper?" he asked, a faint but distinct rumble from his abdomen indicating that he most certainly was.

"Yes." she smiled up at him as he took her hand in his and led her to his truck. A Ford F150, the same sapphire blue as his shirt and his eyes. She was sensing a pattern, here. It wasn't the newest vehicle, but he had taken immaculate care of it. She felt shame for her own treatment of her Explorer, Bessie, which often functioned as storage shed, trash can, and sometimes, hotel, when she felt like a road trip on a shoestring budget. He walked her to the passenger side, opened the door for her, and helped her in, as the truck sat a bit higher than what she was used to.

"So, I have us a table saved at this great steakhouse just down the road. And then, it's supposed to be a nice night, I thought we could take a walk by the lake?"

It sounded perfect to her. Quiet and simple.

"Amazing. As long as your knee is up for a walk?"

"I've got all weekend to rest before getting tortured again." he smirked at her as he pulled the truck out of the parking lot and on the main road toward the interstate. "B'sides, who better to have with me if I start hurtin' than my PT?"

The emphasis he placed on the possessive pronoun, claiming her as HIS PT sent a delighted shiver through her that she blamed on the AC, which he promptly turned down.

He had his Spotify shuffling Kings of Leon at a low volume as they conversed lightly and pleasantly. Since it was an earlier model, even well equipped as it was, it wasn't quite ready for auxiliary or Bluetooth sound, so he'd bought one of those radio receivers that tune into an unused frequency and connect to your phone or iPod. She'd retrofitted her 2003 Ford Explorer in a similar fashion.

They were both caught a bit off guard when "Sex on Fire" came on, and tried valiantly to keep talking. But it was hard to hear anything but those lyrics. Singing of exhibitionism and dangerous sex acts that were definitely moving violations…and simply the sex being on fire. She was thankful, for once, that this song that she'd always found catchy without paying much attention to the actual lyrics, was now fading into the night as they pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant.

She remembered to wait for him to get the door for her, even though it had been ages since she'd been on a date or had any kind of romance whatsoever. He helped her down from her perch, giving her a gentlemanly moment to adjust her skirt before taking her hand and leading her into the building.

He opened the door and led her in by that lumbar lordosis that made everyone tremble and swoon. She was no exception just because she knew that part of your back was not actually called "the small" and she got perturbed when she heard it referred to as such.

"Welcome to Mark's, how can we help you?" the host greeted warmly.

"Reservation for Syverson." Sy piped up. She was used to being the voice in these situations. She was thankful not to have to for once. It was a small thing, but it was still nice.

"Right this way, folks." he grabbed two large menus, a mid sized one, and a small one, and led them to a cozy but still spacious two-top in a quiet corner of the dining area. The warm light was low and ambient, and there were real kerosene lamps on the tables, which she loved. It had the rustic ambiance of a cabin with all the refinement of any four+ star restaurant she'd ever been to. Not that she'd been to many.

"Here you are, the table you requested, and your menus. Have a look at them, and Katie will be out soon to answer questions and take your orders."

As he walked away, Sy pulled her chair out for her, and aided her sitting. His gentility was so refreshing to her, because it was so sincere and kind, and in no way oppressive or domineering, as some men seemed to use such gestures. Wielding them like a club rather than a feather. She was just used to seeing a certain side of him, teasing and silly as he was in therapy that this side of Captain Syverson, or as she may end up calling him one day, Logan, his given first name, if it pleased him, had taken her off guard.

"Nice place." she approved, looking around at he exposed beams of the ceiling and the iron and copper chandeliers and light fixtures on the wall. She also noticed quite curiously a copy of American Gothic by Grant Wood on one wall and The Kiss by Gustav Klimt on another. Such different styles to be displayed in one room. She really liked it though.

"It's one of my favorites. I try to come in every couple weeks or so." The fact that he liked steak on the regular was definitely a point in his favor. She loved it but rarely went out for it on her own. Eating out alone wasn't so bad, but it was hard to enjoy a steak dinner by one's self.

"What's your favorite cut?"

"Oh, I've tried most of them, and you can't go wrong." He assured her.

They had a crazy selection. Ribeyes, filets, sirloins, prime rib, all seasoned, smoked, topped and wrapped in every way you could imagine…it was like staring at the Netflix menu of steak. And much like she tended to do with Netflix, she relied on a classic favorite. After all, who goes for an obscure choice their first time at a new steak house?

"I'm keeping it simple and going for their prime rib and a baked potato."

"Ah, that's a perfect choice. We're getting some of their lobster mac and cheese to start, though. Unless you're allergic or something?" he added the disclaimer when he saw her eyes widen.

"Not at all, that sounds…"she was thinking "sexual," but decided instead on "heavenly."

Soon, Katie, a peppy, slender young redhead in black jeans she'd been poured into and a white T-shirt she had outgrown some time ago, descended upon their table with gusto.

"Howdy, I'm Katie and I get to take care of you fine folks this evening. What drinks and appetizers can I start y'all off with?"

Sy looked at Shane to prompt her to start.

"Sweet tea?" she half stated, half inquired. Katie nodded and jotted.

"Sure thing! Sir?" she thought her eyes sparkled when she looked at Sy…she couldn't blame her. But…she thought she could take her if she tried anything. She was certain there was a very sharp knife in the black napkin set-up at her right hand.

"Same for me, Katie. And we are also gonna need an order of your lobster mac to start and a bottle of your house cab."

"Fantastic. I'll be right back with the teas and wine after I put in for the lobster mac for ya, and then I'll take your meal order." she smiled brightly. Sy looked at Shane, though, as he replied "Wonderful."

~~~~~~~

Her instincts about the lobster mac and cheese had been spot on. She couldn’t contain her yummy noises of enjoyment which amused Sy to no end. She couldn’t imagine the steak any better.

About that, she had been completely wrong. It was so succulent, tender, and flavorful, she debated on whether or not the provided au jus and horseradish were even needed. They were also too good to resist, though.

Her potato, twice baked to the perfect tenderness had a salt brined skin, and a garlicky butter that just sung with the sour cream and chives. She was in food heaven, and even if that meant she was dead, it was fine.

He’d ordered the same entrée as she had, but took his baked potato…a bit differently.

“You don’t like sour cream?” She asked, nonplussed.

“Nah, I mean, I can eat it, but…it feels weird in my mouth. I prefer the au jus and butter, instead. It’s much more tasty.” He said, waggling his eyebrows.

“I guess I’ll take your word for it.” She laughed.

“You’re welcome to try mine when I get it all doctored you how I like it!”

She did, right from his fork. And he was right about it being so flavorful, but she preferred the mild, creamier texture of her own side with the savory notes of her steak.

They ate and enjoyed each other’s company and conversation.

“Ya know, Sy, I totally had you pegged as a beer man, instead of a wine guy.” She said, as she brought her own glass of the deep red liquid to her mouth and nose, inhaling the bouquet before she took her sip.

“Normally, you’d be right. With a burger, pizza, sometimes tacos or what not, definitely. But I can’t do beer with steak. It’s gotta be wine. Red. And full-bodied.” He held her gaze as he drank from his own glass. Why did he have to look at her like that when he said those kinds of words? Her cheeks were warm from more than the booze.

For desert, they shared a decadent marbled brownie/blondie a la mode. He’d had the idea to slide his chair so he was sharing a corner of the table with her, rather than looking across it at her. Purely so they didn’t have to keep sliding the dessert…not so their knees would brush against one another now and then, or so they could feel the heat radiating from one another’s bodies…but actually, exactly for those reasons.

“Last bite is to you, Sy.” She set her fork down, full to bursting.

“Are you kiddin’? My mama’d tan my hide if she knew I took the last bite from my date.”

“You’re being gallant, actually! Rescuing me from a certain belly ache.” She patted her small but slightly rounded tummy. She did like her food, and was no gym rat, after all. He didn't seemed to mind. Yet.

“How 'bout we share the last bite?” He suggested.

“Technically that’s not physically possible. Becau…”

He interrupted what was going to be an intellectual explanation of why no matter how small you cut up a bite, the remaining bit was still technically one bite, and couldn’t be shared.

“No. Shh. I know you’re smart. You got nothin’ to prove here. I’m gonna cut what’s left in half until I get a bite you’re willing to take. Okay?” She nodded.

He only had to take the fork to it twice before she conceded, also letting him feed her, feigning paralysis from the food coma. She held the fork tightly between her lips, making him work to pull it from her mouth. She looked innocent, but she was an intentional little shit.

“You're so cute when you eat.”

“Said no one ever!” She held her hand over her face.

“You are, though. You enjoy the food. Experience it. It’s like you’re…getting a story from it, or something. Like it’s…almost like it’s entertaining you, I don’t know. It’s just…beautiful.” He leaned his elbow onto the table, supporting his head in his hand as he looked at her.

"Well, sometimes I think I like food a little TOO much for my own good." she lamented, reaching for the cabernet only to have it snatched by her date. He uncorked it and dispensed a generous pour for her, and topped off his own glass, killing the bottle.

"No such thing. Like I said about the wine, full bodied is the way to go. Nothin' wrong with a little cushion." he winked at her. She could not resist finishing a rhyme she'd always heard about the desirability of curvy girls…for the pushin,' and hoped the flush in her cheeks from the wine was enough to disguise the deepening color from the current blush she was feeling thinking of Sy…pushin' her cushions…but something tipped him off to her distraction.

"What's on yer mind, sunshine?"

"I'm wondering if you're prepared to carry me on this walk we're planning, actually." It was possible to think more than one thing, after all. "I don't know how I'll ever even walk again."

"Ah, give it fifteen minutes. Finish up your sweet tea, and by the time we're done with our walk, you'll want an ice cream cone."

"Ha, doubtful." But she was ashamed to admit, ice cream already didn't sound bad. Vanilla…maybe pistachio….no, coffee! In a waffle cone…with fudge drizzle…and almonds…maybe she had a problem.

"You ready to go?" he asked.

She nodded. He flagged down Katie and gave her cash, and what one might call a benevolent tip. They left the warm steakhouse, and entered the breezy late summer evening, the humid air seeming thick with promises.

Up Next: Chapter Six-Sensory Integration 2

[sickcyclist]

This is the story of my day. It actually starts yesterday, when a heaven-sent rain swept in and cleared the smoke and cooled the air and tamped down the dust on the trails. I went on a bike ride because days like that are a gift. I have exercise-induced hypoxemia, which basically means that my oxygen drops when I exercise for reasons that we still don’t understand. Exercising with oxygen helps, but I still drop into the mid-80s. I knew I was too sick to ride and that doing so would make me much more sick, but I needed it for my mind so I was willing to sacrifice my body.

So that’s the first lesson of being sick. Everyone tells you that you have to be active and it will make things better and all you have to do is just push yourself hard enough. We’ve internalized this message to the point that many people believe sick people could get better if they just PUSHED. But that’s not always true. Sometimes pushing makes you worse. Sometimes it makes you much, much worse. And that can be true even if being active and pushing hard is something you love so much that it feels like it’s core to who you are.

I knew I would have to sleep for 12+ hours to make up for the ride, and I knew that I would have bad oxygen saturation stats because of it. And since I don’t have a real job, it should be easy to just take a lazy day (or week, or month) and get better, right? But actually I do have a real job and that job is to keep myself alive. It’s the job of a lot of us who are chronically ill, and it’s not a profession I would recommend. It’s not fun and it’s not rewarding and no one admires you for it and you’re not asked to speak to 5th graders on career day and you rarely get to move on to a newer, more interesting project.

Here’s what this particular day at work looked like for me. I woke up to a voicemail saying that my pulmonology appointment for Friday had been cancelled. I’ve been waiting to see a pulmonologist since March and was supposed to have an appointment weeks ago, but that was cancelled because the doctor quit two days beforehand. The other doctor in town couldn’t see me until the end of October, so I looked for a doctor in a bigger town hundreds of miles away. She comes highly recommended and in a way I’m happy because I strongly prefer female doctors, but for whatever reason she had to “clear her morning.” My new appointment is five weeks from now. I got off the phone and sobbed, which is not a good thing to do when your lungs don’t work. I probably could have toughed it up and avoided crying if I hadn’t worn myself down so much biking yesterday, but such is life.

I emailed my primary care provider asking for a note saying I could travel with my portable oxygen concentrator. I was supposed to get this letter from my pulmonologist, but now I won’t have a pulmonologist before I travel. The letter has to say that I use oxygen for sleep and activity, but it also has to specify that I won’t use oxygen on the plane. Which is a little funny because airplanes have extremely powerful oxygen-producing systems for emergencies, but they don’t like people who need oxygen because they don’t like the risk that comes with having sick people on board (think emergency landings). So people who need oxygen all the time need their own oxygen concentrator and battery power for the equivalent of 1.5x the time they will be in the air. I’m going on an 8-hour flight and it would cost about $400 to get strong enough batteries for that length. So I need them to let me carry my machine, which has lithium ion batteries that are otherwise prohibited. But in order to carry my machine I need to prove that I won’t be needing it.

I have a great primary care provider. I knew she would write the note. Easy peasy.

My next voicemail was from the specialty pharmacy that my insurance provider uses for certain drugs. I am allergic to a hormone all women produce as part of the menstrual cycle. This allergy is so severe that it has been responsible for 5 miscarriages, and it also means that I’m more miserable than usual for half the month. The good news is that all you have to do to stop it is take out your ovaries, but when you do that you go into full menopause. Which is not desirable because it increases your risk of cancer and osteoporosis and just overall mortality. Like not even from one thing. Just people who go into menopause early die early from all causes and we don’t know why.

That gives you some perspective on what the benefits have to look like in order for the cost-benefit analysis to still auger in favor of ovary removal. But since it is such a serious choice, you have to be sure. And the way you make sure is to stop your ovaries from working with a drug. The drug has hideous short and long term side effects, so if you feel better while taking it, that’s a pretty strong sign that an oophorectomy is the choice for you.

Approval for me to receive this particular drug was in limbo because the provider accidentally entered the wrong diagnosis. I have, as you can imagine, a lot of diagnoses. Entering the wrong diagnosis in this case was particularly funny because I’ve spent the last 6 months fighting with Blue Cross to get an expensive medicine that helps with my allergies. This medicine (Xolair) is approved for chronic urticaria (hives). It is not approved for progesterone hypersensitivity. I have both, which means I itch a lot for two weeks of the month and itch so much that I want to peel my skin off for two weeks of the month. Blue Cross argued that I wanted the drug for progesterone hypersensitivity. No medical provider said that, but it was the diagnosis they could use to deny the drug. Xolair costs $4000 a month. At that price it’s worth it to them to grind people down and hope they give up. It took four appeals and my lawyer (husband) to get the drug approved because I do indeed have chronic urticaria. It’s worked wonders for me, especially being allergic to the sun. You have no idea how easy it is to descend into madness when you are itchy all the time.

I went over all this with my new OB. I explained that, while the allergy shot solved the itching, it didn’t fix any of my systemic problems, which is why I was still interested in removing my ovaries. And because the conversation focused on how this ovary-suppressing drug (Lupron) specifically wasn’t for urticaria, it’s perhaps not surprising that she accidentally listed urticaria as the reason for the prescription. It’s like when you’re afraid you’ll mispronounce someone’s name. You tell yourself, “Say Kee-a, not Ky-a,” so many times that you’re basically guaranteed to call the person Ky-a.

So my ovary medicine was denied, of course, but I contacted my doctor’s office last week explaining the problem and they were very quick to apologize and resubmit. I returned the call from the specialty pharmacy but apparently they had just wanted to let me know that they were sorry for the delay. It was very polite of them but maybe didn’t require a phone call.

Then I got an email from Blue Cross Blue Shield. I logged in to read that coverage had again been denied (no reason stated) and that if I wanted to appeal the decision I would have to appeal through their specialty pharmacy. They gave me the name and number. Of a different specialty pharmacy than the one I had been dealing with for the past month. The one that I had already wrangled account numbers and diagnosis codes and special customer service phone lines out of. I typed up a polite response inquiring why I need to change pharmacies. And then I cried, but only just a little this time.

Then I called Walgreen’s because my medication for muscle spasms had been delayed and I received a note saying the pharmacist needed to speak to me. I am hypermobile so my connective tissue is just a little too bendy. My joints slip in and out all the time and my muscles have to overwork to hold my body together. Frequently they overwork so much that they lock up. This happens much more frequently in the progesterone-dominant phase of my cycle. Physical therapy is the best treatment, but sometimes I need muscles relaxants before I can even start physical therapy.

The man I spoke to at Walgreen’s told me I didn’t have a prescription for that drug. Then he told me I had a prescription but it had expired in March of 2020. I knew that wasn’t true because I hadn’t used it for years but had to start again when I got COVID. So I had no prescription in March of 2020 but I definitely did in March of 2021. No big deal. Just a simple computer error. Totally understandable in a pandemic, and I knew my doctor would refill it anyway. But he apparently felt that it was a big deal and wouldn’t submit the refill to my provider. I have no idea why. Maybe he thought I was engaged in drug-seeking behavior. Or maybe he was having a bad day. But he wouldn’t submit the refill. I hung up the phone and screamed. Loudly. Which really is not a good thing to do when your lungs don’t work.

Murry came up and rubbed the spasm out of my shoulder and listened to me vent and offered to be my medical power of attorney so he could deal with these people for me. But he’s the one with the real job that earns real money and when I’m sick he also cooks and cleans and does the shopping and walks the dogs. I may not be any good at the shitty job I had, but there’s no way I’m going to make him do it.

I switched tactics and chatted with someone through the Walgreen’s app. He was lovely and had no problem submitting my prescription for a refill. Easy peasy.

My final task for the day was calling to find out about the status of my CPAP prescription. I don’t have sleep apnea but while I’m asleep my breathing does slow down significantly enough that my oxygen drops (hypopnea). I need a special CPAP that adjust the pressure to my breathing, but it will get me off of oxygen at night. I’m very excited for it.

My insurance does not require prior authorization for CPAP prescriptions. However, St. Pete’s has its own prior authorization department that I guess makes sure you are not lying about not needing prior authorization? This department is, apparently, understaffed. I called my oxygen “rep” to find out how it was going. She very kindly bypassed the prior authorization department and called Blue Cross directly. Blue Cross informed her, as had I, that a prior authorization was not necessary. She could officially get me a CPAP.

Except that there is a national CPAP shortage. So she will try her best to get me one as soon as they get more. Hopefully this month. Even the rare, wonderful people who try to help you are sometimes as helpless as you.

I didn’t cry this time. Crying doesn’t fix anything and I can’t risk losing more oxygen. So I turned to writing therapy instead.

This was a bad day at work, but there are rarely good ones. It sucks to be sick, but I’m smart, articulate, overly educated, wealthy, and white. It could suck so, so much more. Someday I’ll turn all of this knowledge that I never wanted into something that helps people other than myself. Until then maybe someone will read this and know they are not alone. If being sick is your job, I see you. I would give you a hug—or a bonus!—if I could.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone: Chapter Six

Title: Subway trolls and pancakes

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y , @innerpaperexpertcloud , @alievans007 , @tragiclyhip​

They stop at the closest bodega for a cup of take out coffee and a carton of chocolate milk, then hand in hand navigate the snowy sidewalks on their brief jaunt to the subway. Tanner is excited about their morning out. Words rapidly leaving his lips as all his pent up thoughts come spilling out; sentences running together and often making little to no sense as several different topics messily mix together. But Tyler lets him get it out. Tanner often very quiet and shy and finding himself lost in the chaos of their home; unable to get a word in edgewise at times and then finding himself growing more and more frustrated. It always leads to a meltdown; tears and screaming hyperventilating and sometimes even the odd destructive episode. The latter hasn’t happened in a long time; both his parents and Tanner himself recognizing the triggers and the warning signs and able to calm him down before things escalate that far. It’s been a journey to say the least; learning how to both handle and help a kid like Tanner. Specialists and fellow parents of children with Autism and autistic adults themselves have been extremely helpful; they’ve found the strategies that aid him the best and in turn, help him thrive. Music therapy and appointments disguised as play, sensory items that provide him with the ‘break’ that he needs when overwhelmed, deep pressure applied with hugs and weighted blankets and vests. It’s a whole new world that has been both overwhelming and rewarding. Tanner isn’t the only one that’s being helped. It’s an adjustment for the entire family and everyone has had to make changes and sacrifices. But it’s also been a positive thing. What could have broken a marriage has actually made it stronger; working as a team and discovering just how strong and determined the other is and witnessing what lengths they’ll go to help their family thrive under even the most difficult of circumstances.

Tanner is a gift. An extra special one. In a way that his siblings aren’t. He’s opened their eyes to an entirely different existence, bringing out the depths of their patience and compassion. He’s beautiful and intelligent; the depths of his knowledge and information stored away inside that little brain simply profound. And talented; cooking and baking, drawing, playing the guitar and singing. But he DOES struggle. Anything social is a challenge for him; extreme difficulty in making friends, becoming extremely shy and withdrawn and even scared if a stranger approaches him for even the smallest of chit chat. And his fears and triggers are numerous; thunderstorms, needles, too much noise and conversation going on around him at once, the sudden and sharp clattering of dishes, the seams inside clothes. Things that most people would never even notice, are extremely heightened for him. And while most are easily recognized and identifiable and the entire family goes out of their way to accommodate him when possible, new issues seem to arise every day.

But the subway is one of his favourite places. The dark tunnels don’t faze him, nor does the crowd of people during the more busy times. And when the noises become too much he knows to simply put on a pair of sounds cancelling headphones and then concentrate on something else; whether it be a book he’s brought along of a sketch pad or even games and videos on one of his parents’ phones.

This morning he’s in his glory; kneeling on the seat beside Tyler, nose pressed against the window as he stares out into the darkness. The subway is quiet; people choosing to stay in after the snowstorm or already flooding earlier trains in hopes of beating the masses that will flock to malls and boutiques to complete their Christmas shopping. While extremely advanced intellectually speaking, he’s a lot younger in other ways; social skills and emotional maturity putting him around the level of a five or six year old. The difference is most apparent when he’s with his twin; TJ becoming older and wiser with each passing day while Tanner struggles to get to the level at Declan -or even Brooklyn and Takota- functions at. And he’s much smaller than his older brother as well; gifted with his mother’s height and slender body and some of her petite features. But there’s never any problem recognizing the Rake in him. The facial expressions and mannerisms and that Australian accent that he’s developed; much thicker and stronger than any of his siblings.

“Dad?” Tanner pipes up from beside him, one hand tightly gripping the top of the seat while the other keeps a firm hold on his chocolate milk; stomach pressed against the back of the seat, his father’s arm wrapped tightly around his middle.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think the subway trolls are real? Do you think they exist?”

“Subway trolls??”

“Remember the subway trolls? TJ talked about them during the summer. When we came here to visit Ovi. About how there’s trolls living down here. Do you think it’s true? Do you think there’s really trolls down here?”

“Something tells me that’s something your brother made up: to freak Takota out. He had nightmares for three weeks after that.”

“Everytime we come on the subway, I try looking for trolls. But it’s dark and the train is fast and I can’t really see ANYTHING. But it could be true, yeah? There really could be trolls. They could exist.”

“Trolls aren’t real. It’s just something that people made up. A long time ago. They just exist in movies and books. Like in The Lord of The Rings.”

A look of visible disgust appears on Tanner’s face. “Those are Orcs. NOT trolls.”

“Same thing.”

“No, dad. They’re not. You need to read the books again. Orcs and trolls are NOT the same. I mean, they’ve evil, but orcs aren’t much stronger than humans. Trolls have superhuman strength. Plus, they’re HUGE. Orcs are just the size of normal people. Even mummy knows this stuff.”

“That’s because mummy is a nerd.”

“She’s not a nerd! She’s very smart. In a lot of different things. She even speaks three languages. You only speak one.”

“I speak two. English and profanity.”

“Swearing is NOT a language.”

“You’re right, it’s not. It’s an art form.”

“You do have A LOT of swears in your vocabulary. It’s pretty impressive; that you know that many bad words. You know twenty different ways to say the F word. That’s cool. You’re smart in your way and mumma is smart in hers. Is that why you fell in love with her? ‘Cause of how smart she is?”

“It was one of the reasons.”

“I wanna meet a girl one day. Like mum. Mum is super cute and tiny and really funny. She makes me laugh a lot. And she’s got a really nice, kind smile and pretty eyes.”

“Yeah, she does. She’s pretty special, huh?”

“She is,” Tanner smiles.. “You’re a lucky guy, daddy. She loves you a whole bunch. I see it in her eyes, you know. They get all sparkly and shiny when she sees you. Like yesterday when you got home. As soon as you got out of the cab, her entire face changed. Her cheeks got rosy and she had a huge smile and her eyes were shiny. Like she was going to cry but not crying eyes at the same time. I want to meet a girl like mummy. Then I’d be lucky too.”

“You would,” Tyler agrees. “You’d be the luckiest guy on the face of the earth.”

“I’ll ask mummy about the trolls. When we get home. She might know. She lived here before. Maybe she’s seen one. That would be so freaking awesome.”

“Something tells me that mummy hasn’t seen a subway troll. Something also tells me they don’t exist.”

“Why you say that?”

“Have you ever seen one? I’ve never seen one.”

“Just because we don’t see things, doesn’t mean they don’t exist. I haven’t seen a lot of things, but I know they’re real.”

“That’s a very good point, actually.”

A sudden pout appears on Tanner’s face; entire body stiffening. “I don’t like this part of the ride. It gets really noisy and extra dark here. Can I sit on your lap now? You make me feel safe.”

Nodding, he places the backpack sitting on his lap between his feet. It contains everything the ten year old could need during the time out; headphones, weighted lap pad, various fidget items, an extra sweater that’s a size too small but Tanner enjoys wearing because it’s ‘tight and feels like a hug’. Scooping his son off the seat next to him and settles him on his thighs; Tanner wrapping both arms around his neck and sliding his body forward in order to have that comfort of body against body. And he slips his hand up the back of the little one’s jacket, hoodie, and t-shirt; giving him that press of a warm, soothing palm against his bare skin.

“I don’t like this part, daddy,” Tanner whimpers, and tightens the hold on his dad’s neck. “It’s scary.”

“It’s okay, mate. I got you. You’re fine. Close your eyes; I’ll tell you when it’s over.”

“Alright,” he squeezes his eyes shut as tight as he can. “I trust you.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.”

“I know you won’t. But it’s still scary.”

“Nothing to be scared of,” Tyler assures him, and presses his lips to his temple; the end of his nose resting against the side of Tanner’s head as he speaks to him in a low, quiet voice. “Nothing can hurt you. Ever.”

“Not when you’re here. You won’t let anything hurt me.”

“Anything or anyone. You’re alright, mate. Just breathe. It’s almost over. Just a couple more minutes. Why don’t you tell me about some of your dreams? The ones you were writing about? Tell me some of them and I’ll read the rest. I want to hear about them.”

“Okay,” Tanner takes a deep, shaky breath, but keeps his eyes screwed shut as he launches into a recap of one of his many dreams.

Tyler’s not sure how many of these dreams are actually real; they’re vivid and often far beyond Tanner’s level of maturity. And he often wonders if it’s just tales the ten year old has conjured up in his own mind; a very detailed and colourful imagination that is often underused AND under appreciated. But he never questions their validity or ‘tunes out’ when his son is sharing his stories; letting him indulge in that little fantasy world of his where things probably seem a lot easier to handle and cope with. And it gives Tanner a sense of confidence and pride in himself; knowing how well he can both tell a tale and how well received it is by the one person he’s always so eager to please and make proud of him.

Today the dreams are about dragons and sea life. Two very distinct ‘dreams’; the first consisting of Tanner being the brave and noble knight that saves the princess and an entire kingdom from an untimely demise. The second he’s an underwater explorer; making friends with all the marine creatures and building a completely self-sustaining and livable underwater habitat for both humans and sea life. And he sees the way people around them react to both Tanner’s story telling and the gentle and calm way Tyler deals with him; the smiles and the comments about how ‘cute it is’ and even the praises of ‘it’s nice to see a daddy out with the little ones’.

“Is it done yet?” Tanner inquires, as the last of his final tale leaves his lips. “Are we past the scary part?”

“Yup. All done.”

“Good,” he heaves a sigh of relief. “But can I still stay here? Can I still stay on your lap?”

“You can stay there as long as you want, Nug.”

“I love you daddy. Thank you.”

“No worries, mate. I love you too.” He removes the hand from underneath Tanner’s clothing and briefly lays it on the back of his head; placing a kiss to his cheek before wrapping his arm around his waist. Even THAT’s been a learning process; expressing emotion and talking about feelings and showing affection. He’d grown up not being allowed to do any of those things; his father only beating him more savagely if he cried or begged for him to stop or if he cried over the loss of his mother. Meeting and marrying someone that craves both giving and receiving affection had been a real eye opener; showing him just how badly the old man had screwed him up both physically and mentally.

“Nug?”

“Yeah?”

“I gotta ask you something.”

“About what?”

“Mummy.”

“I don’t know what she wants for Christmas. She says ‘nothing’ EVERY year.”

“I already got that all figured out. This is about something else.”

“Okay. What is the something else?”

“When I was gone, did mummy seem sad?”

“Mummy is always sad when you go away. She misses you.”

“But did she seem extra sad, maybe? Did it seem like she was having a hard time with me being gone? A harder time than usual?”

“Maybe a little. I mean, she was really sad. She did cry a few times. And locked herself in the pantry once. But that’s ‘cause Millie was being mean and driving her nuts. I pushed tissues under the door; so mummy could wipe her face and blow her nose. We all get snotty when we cry.”

“I’m glad you help mommy out. Especially when she’s sad. You’ve always been good at that; helping take care of her. What about at night? Anything go on at night? Maybe you were supposed to be sleeping and you heard some things? Maybe mummy really upset and crying hard extra hard or…?”

“I snuggled with her a couple nights. On the couch. Because she said she said she couldn’t sleep and that she was feeling lonely. I went down to get a snack. I know I shouldn’t have; that I’m not allowed downstairs by myself in the middle of the night. I’m sorry, daddy. I was hungry though and mummy wasn’t in your room and I went looking for her. She was eating ice cream out of the container and watching Sex and the City. Are you mad? That I went downstairs by myself?”

“No, mate. I’m not. You went looking for mum, right?”

“Yeah, because I was hungry and I knew she would make me a snack. She always makes me an English muffin. Toasted. With a piece of cheese and two slices of tomato on it. With pepper sprinkled on top. And when I couldn’t find her upstairs, I got worried. So I went looking for her. We had snacks and she let me have some ice cream and then we snuggled on the couch watching Sponge Bob. I stayed up until she fell asleep, and then I went and got the big blanket of your bed and your pillow and took them downstairs and tucked mommy in. Then I went back to bed. Once I knew she was really fast asleep and comfortable. I gave her a goodnight kiss. Three, actually. Two on the lips, one of the forehead. Like you do. You always kiss her on the forehead.”

“You are a good son, Nug. A great son. That loves his mumma very much.”

“She’s the best mummy in the whole world. If I could pick mummies, I’d pick her above everyone else. Because she loves me no matter what. She doesn’t care that I’m different. That my brain doesn’t work like everyone else’s. She just loves me. No questions asked. Just like I love her no matter what. Even when she gets mad and yells. But I don’t like when she cries. It makes my heart hurt.”

“Was she crying a lot? While I was gone? More than she’s ever cried before?”

“I guess. TJ and I could hear her the first couple of nights. Crying in the bedroom. We were going to see if she was okay, but we didn’t want to get in trouble. Takota and Brookie went in though and slept with her. She seemed okay in the morning. She likes when we come in to cuddle. She doesn’t like the big bed all to herself.”

“Did she say anything to you? About me being gone?”

“Not to me. But I heard her talking to Desi. He came over every night to check on her and make sure she didn’t need anything. I heard her saying how worried she was about you. That she was scared something would happen and she’d never see you again. That she’d already almost lost you twice before and that she couldn’t take it a third time. Desi tried to talk her down; told her everything would be okay and that you’d be home before she knew it.”

“That was it? The whole thing you heard?”

“Most of it. She also said that she’s never loved anyone the way that she loves you. That you couldn’t ever possibly understand how much she does. That you saved her. In every way someone can be saved.”

“She said that?”

Tanner nods, then reaches inside Tyler’s jacket and pulls out the wool beanie he’d put in one of the pockets for safe keeping. “Will you help me when my glasses fog up?” he asks, and he yanks the hat down onto his head. “They always fog up when we go out in the cold.”

“I will help you.”

“And over the really high snowbanks?”

“I’m going to toss you in those. Have to call someone to dig you out.”

“Daddy…” he crosses his arms over his chest and stares at him pointedly. “...that’s not very nice.”

“I would never do that to you. TJ, yeah. You? Never.”

“You know…” Tanner scrambles off his lap as the train begins its final approach to their station, then curls all of his fingers around three of his father’s “...if I got to pick daddies, I’d pick you.”

Tyler smiles down at his son. “You would, would you?”

Tanner nods. “In a heartbeat.”

*****

Breakfast is a success. A small diner in Battery Park that Tanner had found online three years ago; spending hours online searching for the best pancake spots in New York City and reading all of the reviews and browsing all the menus. He’s very detail oriented. Choosing places to eat and shop on not just popularity and the items being offered, but on the way the food appears in pictures; a keen eye for attractive colour palettes and neat and tidy -and appealing- presentation. He’d put so much research and time into it that Tyler hadn’t had the heart to tell him that maybe somewhere closer to home would be a better fit; no ‘scary’ trips on the subway meant less crowds and noise and almost assured no sensory meltdowns which in turn, would mean an extremely hard day for Tanner. Once something is ‘set off’, he remains on edge and anxious for hours; the mere stress of his brain going into overload causing him to be destructive and aggressive. The latter is always directed at himself; yanking his hair out, banging his head off walls, scratching himself until he bleeds. And while it’s always a worry that something will spark the behaviour, they’ve become better at recognizing the warning signs; identifying triggers and able to remove him from a situation before it becomes too much for him to bear.

The morning had gone well. Tanner had been talkative and cheerful; uncharacteristically engaging with the waitress and carrying on conversations -albeit brief, as too much chatter and eye contact make him extremely uncomfortable- with fellow diners. He’d only had difficulties twice. Needing his weighted lap pad and some fidget toys when the wait for food was longer than expected, and a flight to his father’s lap when a larger group of diners came in and their voices were needlessly loud and obnoxious. A tight as possible embrace and encouraging and comforting words whispered had quickly soothed him, but he’d still insisted on staying perched on his dad’s thighs while he finished the remains of his breakfast.

After a quick trip to the Cartier store -a little something for mummy as a form of both apology and an excuse to spoil her- and to pick up some novels to read at Tanner’s favourite used book store, they returned home and onto the final ‘event’ of the morning; time spent at the private park. It’s cold and the wind brutal, but Tanner is in his element; loving the way he can ‘crash’ into the snowbank at the bottom of the slide, tend to building his own snowman without interference from his well meaning but way too hyper younger siblings, and time on the swings. And while he has two of his own hanging from the ceiling in his bedroom, he prefers being outside; leaning as far back as he can and staring up at the sky. It’s gray and dreary today, but he’s in his glory; catching snowflakes on his tongue and giggling the entire time.

That laugh -one he’d inherited from his mother- is more than enough to tolerate the frigid temperatures; a hot cup of coffee and the hat and gloves Esme had both nagged him about taking along -and had resorted to shoving into the pockets of his coat before he stepped out the door- enough to stave off the chill. And he’s leaning back against the wrought iron fence and sipping the strong brew -two shots of espresso helping to fight off the lingering exhaustion from jet lag- when the gate to the park swings open. It’s a highly controlled and private area. Only those who live in Gramercy Park have access; given keys when they take up residence. And while he isn’t necessarily worried about the stranger joining them, that old inkling of hyper-vigilance never fails to make an appearance when he spots an unfamiliar face. It’s the years spent on the job; burning bridges and stepping on toes and making a lot of enemies along the way. Revenge is par for the course; dirtbags sticking up for other dirtbags and seeking vengeance for fellow drug lords, rapists, murders, child predators. The list is vast and seemingly endless; he’s gone up against the lowest of the low and somehow lived to tell about.

The worry is always there; that someone will come looking for him and then use his greatest weaknesses to destroy him. It’s why he’s extra careful now; willing to do anything in his power to keep his family safe. Five years ago had been bad enough; if word got back to the wrong people that it was his business employing the mercenaries sent to clean up messes, the result wouldn’t be pretty. Far more devastating and widespread than what happened at the hands of Mahajan and Asif’s remaining people. And while he highly doubts that the woman and child stepping through the gate pose a threat, his brain immediately tends to think of the worst. Especially when one of his children -arguably the most vulnerable of them all- is with him. But he manages a polite smile in the woman’s direction, then shuffles his weight from foot to foot when she approaches; an attempt to keep warm and his discomfort at the idea of having to be social. It was one of the things that sold on him buying the brownstone; no one bothered with him and likewise didn’t seem to give a shit that he mostly stuck to himself.

“It’s amazing how they can stand being out like this,” she comments, as she sidles up next to him.

It’s way too close his own comfort; the sleeve of her fur lined coat brushing against him. He sidesteps; putting just enough space between them to let her know she’s invading his space, yet enough to come across a complete asshole. She’s new to the area; a face he hadn’t seen last Christmas or during the month they’d spent in the Big Apple over the past summer. Tall and slender; shoulder length blond hair sticking the bottom of the black and gray knit beanie and too much make up on her face.

“My daughter LOVES the snow,” she continues, nodding in the direction of the little girl attempting to make conversation with Tanner. It can go either of three ways; Tanner acknowledging her presence and actually speaking in return, completely ignoring her and acting as if she doesn’t even exist, or he’ll be so anxious that he’ll flee to his father’s side for comfort. “It’s why she took moving here so well; used to the weather in Utah I guess. I’m Natalie,” she offered a slender hand encased in a lambskin glove.

“Tyler. You just moved here?”

“Couple weeks ago. Took a job with Goldman Sachs. I’ve always wanted to live here, mind you. A dream going back to my childhood; Central Park, Broadway shoes, shopping at Bergdorfs. A lot of stuff on my to do list. Your accent; you’re a long way from home.”

“Our second place is here. Kids love coming to stay. Especially during the winter. They love having a white Christmas.”

“Must be a change. Going from somewhere hot and sunny to this. Why go from the ocean and the sand to snow and slush? And most of all, why New York City?”

“My wife spent some time here. Fell in love with it. Always wanted to get back. And our oldest lives here. In Queens. He’s in his first year of med school.”

“You have a kid old enough to have done four years of undergrad and is now in med school?”

Tyler nods. There’s no need for specifics. No reason to tell a complete stranger about Ovi and his background and how he’d wound up going from Mumbai to Colorado and then onto Australia. That part of their lives is firmly rooted in the past; Dhaka, Asif, Mahajan Senior. And it’s not something either of them enjoy revisiting. The years have gone by excruciatingly slow; leaving mountains of mental and physical issues behind. “I’ve got grandkids too.”

“Seriously?”

“Two of them. Boy and a girl. Three and eight months.”

“You’re a grandpa?”

“As much as I hate being called that, yeah. I am.”

“Makes you feel old? Being called that?”

“Just thinking about it makes me feel old.” He takes a swig of coffee; watching as Tanner abandons his snowman and his new playmate in favour of returning to the swings. The ten year old is doing better than expected; not growing agitated or anxious when the little girl immediately follows him and once more attempts to make conversation.

“How old is he?”

“Ten. Eleven next month.”

“He’s shy. Or he’s already playing hard to get when it comes to girls.”

“He has Autism. Aspergers. It’s one of the things he struggles with; making friends.”

“I’m sorry, it must be hard. It must be…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I mean, look at him. He’s healthy. He’s happy for the most part. He’s beautiful. He’s a good kid. A REALLY good kid. We’re lucky to have him.”

“And are those your only two? The med student and him? Quite the age gap.”

“Actually, I have six more at home.”

Natalie’s eyes widen. “You have eight kids?”

“I do. Well, technically the oldest one isn’t mine. Not by blood. We took him in when he was fifteen. But I do have six more at home.”

“All biological?”

Tyler nods.

“All with the same mother?”

“Every last one of them.”

“I don’t know whether you’re crazy or brave. Or a mix of both.”

“Guess that’s up for debate. It’s a pretty full house.”

“God help the woman who got pregnant SEVEN times.”

“It was actually only five times. We have two sets of twins. Ten and five.”

“Wow,” Natalie laughs. “That’s quite the brood. You don’t see that very often these days; big families like that.”

“Once we started, we couldn’t stop I guess. We were supposed to be done at four, but…”

“Things happened.”

“That’s one way of putting it. You said you just moved here?”

“Number thirty-three. You?”

“Eleven.”

“The one right on the corner? With the two dogs? A shepherd and a…”

“Australian shepherd. Mac and Saju. Two major pains in the ass.”

“They love to stand on the couch. Look out the front window. My daughter always waves to them. She keeps hoping one day they’ll be outside. So she can meet them.”

“They’re standing on the couch because they like to spy on the neighbours. And growl and bark at the squirrels. They’re used to koalas and kangaroos. Not squirrels. They’re not the brightest, but they’re loyal.”

“I walked by the other day and when I saw all the kids out front, I thought it might be a daycare. That was a nanny with them? Cute little thing with dark hair. Didn’t look old enough to be their mom.”

“That IS their mom,” he confirms. “My wife is very tiny and cute. And I agree; she does NOT look old enough to have that many kids.”

“It would be nice to meet some of the other families around here. There aren't many with young kids, so it was a relief to see people at the park. My daughter’s always looking for new friends.”

“Well, she’s got a lot to choose from at our house, that’s for sure. I don’t think the wife would mind if you popped by. She’s the social butterfly. Complete opposite of me.”

“I don’t know, you seem to be holding your own in this conversation. A little gruff at times and straight to the point, but…”

“This is me on my best behaviour. It doesn’t get any better.”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “I think it’s perfectly fine how it is.”

Smirking, he downs the remains of his coffee and tosses it in the nearby trash. It’s a line that’s been crossed. Not appreciating little smiles and flirtatious comments and the insistent way she keeps stepping even closer to him; not realizing that he grows more agitated and uncomfortable each time he moves away. It’s annoying; unwanted attention even AFTER you’ve told someone that you’re married. Most women -and some men- seem to take it as a challenge; an extra thrilling chase to land someone that’s declared themselves unavailable. And maybe it’s worked for them before; landing a guy that claims to be happily married and getting him to abandon all his morals and betray the one person he’s supposed to love more than life itself. But that sure as hell ISN’T him. He doesn’t need or want anyone else. Perfectly content to spend the rest of his existence with just one person; happy to wake up to the same face every day, kiss the same lips and make love to the same body , and hear the same voice and laugh.

“Daddy!” Tanner calls as he bounds through the snow; wrapping both arms around one of Tyler’s thighs. “Can we go now? I’m getting cold. And I miss mum.”

“Yeah, we can go. I bet she misses you too.”

“Hey there, cutie.” Natalie smiles, and crouches down to the little boy’s level.

“No,” Tanner shakes his head and slides behind Tyler, hiding himself behind his father’s legs. “Please don’t.”

“He doesn’t like eye contact. Not with people he doesn’t know. Scares him. It’s okay, Nug.” Reaching behind his body, he lays a hand on the back of Tanner’s head and gently pushes; encouraging him to come out of hiding. “Don’t be nervous. I’m right here. Nothing’s going to happen. Just people trying to meet you. Wanting to be friends.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all. Just someone being nice. Can you come on out? At least say hi? There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Come on…” he lifts one leg, allowing Tanner to slip between them. “...can you just say hi? I won’t ask for more than that.”

Tanner nods, both arms once more wrapping around his father’s thigh; body leaning into him, needing that comfort and support. “Hi.”

"I’m not trying to scare you, I promise,” Natalie says. “Just trying to make friends. What’s your name?”

Tanner glances up at his dad. Looking for reassurance. And permission.

“It’s okay. You can tell her.”

He looks back at the woman in front of him. “Tanner.”

“How old are you?”

“Ten. Almost eleven.”

“I hear you have a lot of brothers and sisters.”

He nods. “I have a twin. He’s older than I am. His name’s Tyler. Like daddy.”

“And is he as handsome? As you and daddy?”

“I don’t know. I guess. He’s really tall. And strong. Like daddy. He’s almost taller than mummy already!”

“Well your mum’s pretty tiny,” Tyler reasons, and straightens out Tanner’s scarf and hat; pulling the beanie down over the tops of his ears. “Speaking of mum, want to go see her?”

“Yeah,” Tanner nods enthusiastically. “I wanna see her. I miss her. I want to give her a hug. And her goodies. We got mum her favourites,” he addresses Natalie. “Mummy loves croissants. From a certain place. So daddy and I took the subway to get them. And he got her something really nice. From a really expensive jewellery store. There was lots of sparkly stuff in there. Mummy likes sparkly stuff but never lets daddy buy her any. She says he spoils her too much.”

Natalie smiles. I’m sure your mom deserves to be spoiled.”

“Oh, she definitely does. She’s the best mummy. And the prettiest. She puts up with a lot. Especially from Millie. That’s my oldest sister. She’s a bitch.”

Tyler frowns. “Tanner….”

“I’m just sayin’. Millie is really mean. She’s almost a teenager. That’s why. They get mean at that age. Girls. That’s what daddy says.”

“And on that note,” Tyler chuckles. “I think we should go home. You’re gonna wanna pee soon, aren’t ya.”

“Yeah. And you can’t drop your pants and go in the bushes here. Wayyyy too cold. I got snow in my boot. My sock is wet. I can’t walk in wet socks.”

“You could if you wanted to. It’s like a hundred feet away.”

“Naw. I don’t like it. The feeling. My foot is cold. And wet. My sock is too squishy.”

“You’re demanding.” Scooping Tanner up with one hand, he settles him on his hip, then reaches for the bags he’d hung earlier on the rungs of the fence. “Ready to go? Go and see and mummy?”

“Ready, Freddy. I’m hungry.”

“Me too.”

“You’re ALWAYS hungry. Giants eat a lot. Bye” ! Tanner waves a mitten in farewell in Natalie’s direction. “I like your hat, by the way. I like the panda bear pin on it. It’s sparkly. And I like panda bears.”

“Well, I like your glasses. You’re awful cute, you know that.”

“Cute like daddy, smart like mummy,” Tanner declares, as he curls an arm around his dad’s neck. “Bye new friend!”

“Bye, kiddo. You be good. Although something tells me you always are.”

Tanner giggles. “You’ll change your mind once you get to know me. I can be really annoying.”

“Something tells me you’re more cute than annoying.”

“Just you wait,” he singsongs, and then gives one final wave before being carried out the gate.

[never-not-ever]

I had therapy and it wasn’t bad but it was also eh. I definitely feel more of a connection and can trust her more than my previous therapist who speaking of which is back from her medical leave and reached out about scheduling an appointment but I haven’t replied back. I’m not going to be working with again and I feel bad telling her that. Maybe I just won’t reply. But I feel like I owe her an answer.

Therapy today was challenging and she said in the end that she’s going to keep challenging me. I told her how conflicted I am cause my thoughts say one thing but then my actions show otherwise. Like me continuing to show up for therapy even when I’m having hopeless “what’s the point” thoughts…

I told myself before therapy that if she didn’t ask I wasn’t going to tell her which reminded me of inpatient. “Don’t ask, don’t tell”. A silly way around admitting to self harm. She did end up asking about the SI and the drinking and self harm urges so I told her the truth about yesterday. Part of me is saying that it wasn’t that bad, nothing to worry about. But I know it’s just opened the doors and soon it’ll escalate.

She didn’t however ask about the other stuff. Which my mind is going wild thinking I can just run with it. That it was stupid to have even brought it up during the last session. But that’s enough of that for now.

She mentioned how a lot of my thinking, especially in regards to self harm tends to focus on “rules” like “if this, then that” and I never really realized that before. I guess the whole “don’t ask, don’t tell” is a rule.

In the end we talked about upcoming appointments and I said how I’m already having urges to cancel next week but that my case manager is taking time off soon. I checked and said “next Monday I’m seeing her but that’s her last appointment so I guess I have to come”. She laughed and said “oh so you won’t cancel with me cause you have to see her”. Then she said something about “if I don’t see you next week then I’ll know something fishy is up”.

My mind is already thinking just cancel with both of them. I guess I could. We’ll see how the rest of this week goes.

I see my psychiatrist again tomorrow. I’ve seen him so much lately cause of med changes. I went back on Wellbutrin last week so he wanted to see me again soon to up the dose. I’m going to ask about increasing the gabapentin prn and frequency too. When I was inpatient it was up to 2 times a day and I don’t know why but outpatient it changed to just once a day. I wasn’t even using it up until the other day when I was spending time with my Nana. But it was helpful so I need to remember to ask him tomorrow.

I’m also seeing my case manager tomorrow too. I think we’re getting coffee. Then I’m done with appointments for this week thank god.

[mass-hxsteria]

Next time (#3 in series)

1

August 2017

The phone vibrated against the table; it’s relentless buzzing distracting Leon from the conversation with the son sitting across from him. The man tried hard to ignore it, keeping himself as engaged as possible with Philip’s story. Though they had spoken on the phone a few times, too much of this morning was spent in awkward small talk, neither of them sure how to approach the unique situation they were in. Now, finally, Leon had gotten his son talking, walls slowly diminishing as they got to know each other. Leon glanced briefly at the slew of missed calls as he silenced this one, trying to be subtle about his shift in attention. He tried to keep most of his focus on Philip, despite the gnawing agony of ignoring a work call. They would find someone else. This was the first time in 12 years this kid was speaking face-to-face with his father. How could he just leave right away? They had the whole weekend planned and this was only the first day. He barely began to push work from the forefront of his mind until, yet again, moments after the last ignored call, the phone began buzzing again.

“It’s okay. Just answer it.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll just be a second.” Leon answered the call, listening to the demand as he left the restaurant. As suspected, he was asked to come in. “Is there really no one else that can cover the surgery? Or can the appointment be pushed off? I’m across the country right now. Even if I get a flight, I won’t make it in until tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning it is then. We really need you to come in. We talked about this.  You knew this was a chance when you left.”

“Right, okay, fine.” Leon sighed. He had known, but--maybe it was just wishful thinking--but the chances seemed so low. It felt worth the risk at the time that, if it happened, he would at least have had more time with his son first. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Leon hung up the phone, shaking his head, dreading going back in and telling Philip he had to leave right away. He knew having a relationship with his son wasn’t going to be easy, especially with him living in Boston and Philip and Elizabeth in Chicago. Still, he hadn’t expected it to go sideways quite so quickly. This weekend had taken weeks to plan and Philip had been so excited. Leon had too. Now, it was only going to last a few hours. If this was any indication of visits to come, he didn’t have a good feeling about it. He didn’t want to be the type of dad that only visited with his kid for a few hours a couple times a year, not after coming into Philip’s life so late.

He walked in, flagging down a waitress to ask for to-go boxes for the lunch, and pulling out his wallet as he made his way back to the table. “I’m so sorry dude, that was work. I’ve got to head back to Boston tonight.”

“Oh...” He had expected Philip to be disappointed. What he hadn’t anticipation was just how crushed he would feel himself, seeing the disappointment on his kid’s face, knowing he caused it.

“I know. I’ll come back next month and it will be longer, I promise.”

2

November 2017

Leon collapsed on the small airport chair, relaxing after hours of airport security. He pulled out his phone, seeing multiple missed calls from Elizabeth. His heart sank, there was no chance this could be good news. He opened his voicemail. “I’m sorry, Leon. I hope you’re not on the plane already; I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. My parents just came out to surprise Philip. I had no idea they were coming. They live so far, they can’t get out here much. I know you know what that’s like, but...” A long pause, a distant sigh. “Well they actually showed up.” There it was, Leon thought, the real reason she didn’t want him coming out. “Anyway, I tried to explain that he had plans with you and to let me know next time, but, well, you know how they can be. And I don’t want to send them all the way back to Florida just so he can spend half a day with you.” He leaned his head back, eyes shut. He knew Elizabeth was tired of Leon always disappointing Philip; she was the one who saw it more often than he did. What she never seemed to grasp was how difficult this was for him to. “I hope you understand. We’ll see you next time. Hopefully.”

3

January 2018

6AM Flight to Chicago - canceled

11AM Flight to Chicago - canceled

2PM Flight to Chicago - canceled

8PM Flight to Chicago - canceled

Leon tried to glance out the window, but all he could see was a sheet of ice. It was no wonder the flights were canceled. Stubbornly refusing to let this happen again, Leon began looking up routes to Chicago. Maybe the skies would be bad, but the roads could be better. 15 hours of driving time. The blizzard might add a few, but if he drove all night...

“Are you insane!?” Within seconds of Leon texting her his thoughts, Elizabeth was calling him and was, apparently, not pleased. “If it’s that bad out, stay there. You’ll get yourself killed if you try to drive out here.”

“I’ll be fine. It’ll clear up at some point.” He paused, sighed. “I can’t miss his birthday, of all days.” He admitted in a rare, vulnerable moment with his ex, unable to hide the dejection from his voice.

“He’ll understand. He’ll be disappointed, but it’s better than you doing something stupid. We’ll just make it work next time. Just be safe today. I know it’s been hard, but this will get easier.” Though short, this was the first real conversation he felt like he had had with Elizabeth this entire time; the first time it hadn’t ended in an argument. They managed to keep things civil in front of Philip, but he hadn’t yet brought himself to forgive her for what happened. She also never never quite forgave him for wanting to get rid of the kid in the first place.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right...” Her understanding tone throwing him off enough that he couldn’t help but agree with her. Still, he was starting to lose hope. In these past few months, Leon had yet to feel like anything but a failure of a father. He thought, not for the first time, that maybe he was right 13 years ago. He wasn’t cut out to be a father. Looking at the worsen blizzard outside, he briefly wondered if this was nature’s way of agreeing with him. He couldn’t bring himself to fully admit to her that’s why he was trying so hard, but he suspected she was starting to realize that herself. With a sigh, “Can I talk to him? I want to tell him myself.”

4

June 2018

Almost one year had gone by since the phone call that had completely changed Leon’s life. Despite only one truly successful visit and many mishaps, the man could easily say he wasn’t the same person since finding out he had a kid. His phone calls with Philip grew more frequent and more plans were being made. Even though things were slowly getting easier, he still always wished he had more time with his son. Thankfully, that was finally going to change by tomorrow. With Philip out of school for the summer, they had planned for him to fly out to Boston for two weeks. He was straightening up the apartment when he got a call from Elizabeth. He had expected this. The past few weeks her calls grew more frequent with questions, making plans, making sure Leon knew what he was doing before she let their son stay with him, that he was responsible enough for this.

“Hey. I’ve got everything all ready to go here. I’m picking him up at the airport at noon tomorrow, right?” He asked, but was greeted with a long pause. His face fell as he awaited the explanation.

“Philip broke his arm. He was out skateboarding with some friends and had a bad fall. He’s going to need surgery and he’ll be in a cast for a while. After that, physical therapy... I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to reschedule. With him healing, it might not be for a while.”

“Is he alright?”

“He’s in some pain, but it was a clean break. He’s a little upset about not being able to get out there. I know you were both looking forward to this. Maybe we’ll try again in August.”

“Yeah, we’ll figure it out. Just keep me posted on how he’s doing, alright? I’ll look at plane tickets and try to make it out there to help out before his surgery.” What he was most upset about was that he couldn’t be there for his kid during all this. He opened his laptop to look up flights to Chicago, but even then, what would that accomplish? If he was going to have trouble for a while, would Leon being there for a day really help at all? There was one other option: something that had been in the back of his mind for months now. He booked a flight for the next day and then switched gears, looking for apartments to rent in Chicago as well as jobs for plastic surgeons. With Elizabeth still on the line, he explained his thoughts, “I’ll be out there tomorrow. There’s something else I want to do while I’m there, but I’m going to need your help.”

To be continued...

[anxious-acushla]

Alexa play Maggie Rogers’ Back in My Body...

I go to therapy every week but my therapist had an emergency and needed to cancel our appointment yesterday so today she called me on my lunch break just to check in. As usual, what was meant to be a very brief thing ended up being a very not brief thing. I told her about how bad my dissociation has been. And when I dissociate it’s like I’m an observer, watching this girl I don’t know, and don’t have particular interest in, live a very mundane (boring) and meaningless life. I didn’t know this wasn’t normal self reflection until I was about fifteen so today when I told my therapist about it she applauded me for being so self aware. We spent the rest of the time talking about my writing and why I’m not doing it. I think a lot of my aversion to writing is related to my dissociation habits which stems from my anxiety (GAD) which has been out of control since New York started opening back up after a strict COVID quarantine. I’d gotten very used to not having to leave my house. I didn’t have to spend most of my mental energy being the perfectionist workaholic. I didn’t have to get up every day and put on makeup and do my hair and look put together. I could do things I wanted to do: writing and yoga and napping. Then quarantine slowly ended and that rug was ripped out from underneath me; I was being thrust back into everything, and I really haven’t been able to find my balance since. What had become a very safe existence suddenly felt very unsafe - cue the trauma responses - cue the dissociation. Suddenly I was scared for all the immunocompromised people in my life and how the job I don’t really love (and most days don’t really like) put me in a position that could possibly cause them harm. A residual event at work (at the job that I left right before the pandemic hit) was gaining steam and then suddenly I was starting a new job, worried that I’d be dealing with the same workplace bullshit again. I was stuck in the past and being forced to live a future I really didn’t want - still don’t really want. I was just going through the motions, watching this stranger live her life, wondering how many more days I’d be forced to watch this god awful marathon of human nothingness. But the old work bullshit is just about done now. I’ve come to a realization with my job and my career that makes it all a bit more bearable. I’m more quiet now but I also care less and it’s honestly really nice. So I’m getting there. Things are a bit less foggy. For weeks the thought of writing made me nauseous. Then I didn’t think about it at all. Now I think about it almost everyday. I still don’t do it. I did put all of the dialogue I’d sketched out into a word doc. Almost 2K words of dialogue that once flowed out of me so easily. I loved CFDD and I want to love it again. I loved writing and I want to love it again. I just kind of need to get back in my body before that happens. And I hope that happens soon.

[mcrmadness]

CW dental stuff:

Still 1,5 weeks to go until I get to go to the dentist. So weird to say that I can't wait for that, I am quite afraid of dentists to be honest and now I can't wait??? But I guess even that is better than living with a mouth like this.

I just keep having anxiety attacks every day. They change from just regular sensory overloads to health anxiety which pretty much looks like “OMFG what if it’s something serious and I’m gonna die now???” and I just want this done asap, but still have to wait 1,5 weeks and it’s not over then. Pretty sure it will be painful for a few days after that before it calms down again and then I need to go to the dentist one more time, because it’s root canal therapy I’m going to get.

Also, there’s cavities on a few teeth and those need to be done too but those are not that bad. I’m just wondering how I’m gonna eat and what if she does both at once, or maybe I’ll ask for her to do the right side on the second appointment as these others are not really bothering me but just that one root canal therapy tooth (at the left side) is. Right now I was just minding my own business and doing things and suddenly I had this anxiety attack because I “didn’t remember to worry about my tooth enough”. Like, fuck you, brain! I was finally being distracted from it after having anxiety attack and then you go like “WAIT the TOOTH!!!” I actually try to distract myself from it so that the time would go faster and April 13th would be here finally.

The tooth itself isn’t really painful unless I touch it with my tongue more, mainly I just can feel it existing and it keeps sending some sensations to my lower jaw (it’s an upper jaw tooth) and sometimes I can feel that in my cheek bone too and that’s what gives me those anxiety attacks. The lower jaw then gives me sensory overload.

Right now I’m also feeling extremely tired. I showered today at least but I also really meant to cook for myself but it’s almost midnight and I just feel so exhausted. I really need some food tho so maybe I try to do that anyway, it won’t take TOO long to be finished, after all... I also feel a bit dizzy? Like I was sitting on a boat. That is often caused either by oncoming migraine or stiff neck. Or maybe it’s just anxiety and me being lightheaded.

Gosh, every day really is like torture now. But it’s my brain that is torturing me, mentally. Now also my dreams from last night are coming back, I don’t remember much anything from those but I just remember there was some bathroom pipe leaking and it was giving me anxiety because I’m ACTUALLY afraid of water flow that I cannot control, like a pipe breaking down or something like that.

I think I’m just tired and should go to sleep - but: I still need food. Not eating anything but bread (and a can of tuna) in 4 days is not good at my mental health at all, but it’s just so damn difficult to get myself to do anything right now. This is also what’s giving me anxiety. I don’t know if I’m so tired because of anxiety or because there’s something off in my system. Like, I keep worrying that I’m sick and that I don’t know it because I don’t feel sick at all. Sometimes I also worry if these are “post-covid symtpoms” altho I’ve never even had covid. I’ve never had any covid symptoms. Last time I had a common flu was in 2017. *knocks on wood*

Maybe I should actually do what I have been meaning to do for a few weeks now and stay overnight at my parents’ place at some point. Maybe even this weekend. Then I would only have 1 week left, and after that therapy on Monday, and finally the dentist’s appointment on Tuesday. I really try to survive until that because she seemed like a nice dentists and I don’t want to cancel it and try to find another dentist when the appointment is ALMOST here already.

It’s just weird how I keep having major mood swings and it can change in matter of seconds. I can be extremely happy about everything and the next moment I’m rolling in anxiety and texting my mom about how I might come over at night. Then I don’t because it goes away and I go to sleep. I’ve also been really excited because finally I’m gonna get this tooth fixed and when the root canal therapies are over, HOPEFULLY I don’t need to do anything about that anymore. I mean, I have been living with a temporary patch since 2017. I haven’t really used the left side of my mouth for eating since my tooth started hurting for the first time in... maybe 2015 or something like that. I don’t even remember when was it but I literally have been chewing everything mainly on the right side of my mouth for FIVE YEARS. And I have constantly been thinking about how I wish this was fixed already but didn’t want to go to a dentist because I was afraid they’re gonna say it needs to be removed. I’m actually still worried that they’d say that, and the longer it took me to book another appointment, the bigger the fear grew. I was so afraid that I took so long with all and that it needs to come out and if I just went to a dentist earlier, it could have been saved. Fortunately it seems that the canal root therapy is possible so I don’t need to worry, but I still worry about what are they gonna find from inside that tooth. I’m not a dentist so I’m afraid of everything because I don’t know anything about anything. But I guess it’s still empty because the temporary patch is still there and it apparently was empty in the röngten images...

But yeah, some days I’m just so excited that maybe after a month or so, I can finally use my mouth’s left side for chewing and I don’t need to worry about a patch coming off anymore. And hopefully all the sensations and mild “pain” after cold or hot foods or liquids will be over. At this point 1,5 weeks just feels like another 5 years.

[nattikay]

So I don’t typically like making personal posts of this type, as I generally come here to escape all that and relax, but at this point I’m just not really sure where else to go with it, all things considered.

Anyways...I’ve been...stressed lately. No, coronavirus isn’t the root cause of it, but it certainly ain’t helping (as I will explain later).

So the first thing I guess...is my younger sister’s wedding tomorrow. To explain why this is a stressor I first have to reveal a bit about myself, a little deeper than I am usually comfortable doing on the internet, and I know it’s ultimately gonna make me sound like...kinda a selfish butthole.

So...I’ve always greatly valued the concept of marriage and family. It’s a value I hold very dear, I always have, and I’ve always wanted to one day get married and have kids of my own. However, I’ve also always struggled hugely with social anxiety, for pretty much as long as I can remember, and needless to say dating does not come easily to me.

For a while, that was ok because I had other goals to work towards in the meantime...getting into my college of choice...getting into their animation program...doing well in my classes...graduating...getting a job...but now I’ve done all those things, and getting married would be the natural next step in life. 

...if I could actually fall in love with someone. 

So I’m stuck. I feel like I’m just treading water, or running in circles. I feel like I can’t progress and it’s scary. But progressing itself, going out and meeting people, opening myself up like that--is also scary. It’s like I'm caught between a rock and a hard place. A lose-lose situation. 

I did have a sort-of boyfriend towards the end of college, but then I graduated and moved away and, well...things are a bit complicated. I still chat with him online now and then, but we only see each other in-person maybe once or twice a year for conventions. And even though we’re still on good terms in a friendly sorta way, given the time and distance I’m not sure whether or not he’s still interested in pursuing that type of relationship with me, nor am I sure how to bring it up without making him feel awkward.

Sometimes I wonder if maybe I should’ve stayed in Utah after I graduated, found a job there and been able to spend more time with him...but I didn’t...and now a part of me feels like...I dunno....like I missed my chance?

But...all of that’s a tangent...it’s not the only issue...

So anyways...like I said...this is my younger sister’s wedding. For those who don’t know, I’m the oldest sibling in my family. Maybe I wouldn’t feel as stressed if my sister were older than me. But as it is...this is the first time in my life that I haven’t been first to a major life event. And yes, I know, I know it’s not a race, it’s not a competition, etc. etc. etc....I know. But...it’s a reminder.

I’m stuck, and now I’m being “surpassed” and I’m constantly being reminded.

And things seemed to work out so easily for her too. She met this guy less than a year ago and they’re absolutely head-over-heels obsessed with each other. 

and I don’t

understand 

that?

I mean, her fiancé’s a good guy don’t get me wrong, and they’re really happy together and I’m glad of that, but at the same time...watching how they are with each other, how they interact...I don’t...know that I’ve ever felt that? And in my head, I wish I could, it seems like it’d be so nice but...

guys, sometimes I feel like I’m broken.

I feel like I don’t have that capacity to get so excited over a real person the way my sister and her fiancé are about each other.

Not romantically. Not even platonically. 

Except...not quite. I do have some capacity to be all giddy. But...it only ever seems to happen with fictional characters, animals, or plushies.

Never real people. Never real relationships.

and I don’t

understand

why

And quite frankly, I’m terrified, absolutely terrified that that’ll lead me to being forever alone

And yes, I know that some people are perfectly content to live their lives single, and that’s fine and you do you and I’m not gonna judge you or say you’re invalid or whatever; I don’t believe that. But...I don’t think I’m one of those people. Marriage and family is something I hold too dear to my heart to just give up on the idea of having my own.

But...like I said...reminders.

Reminders, reminders, and reminders of one of my weaknesses, one of my struggles, of a concept that utterly frightens me and I have to be around it constantly right now. And when I’m with other people, I have to do it with a smile.

I love my sister, don’t get me wrong. And like I said, her fiancé’s a good guy. I’m glad they’re happy. I don’t want to ruin that for them with my selfish struggles. Just because I’m unhappy right now doesn’t mean I have to drag them down with me. They deserve to have a good time.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not struggling.

So...there. That’s why my sister’s wedding is a stressor for me.

On top of all that...the wedding was supposed to be in April, in Utah. But because of the coronavirus shutdowns, we’ve had to to some last-minute rearrangements, and now it’s tomorrow here in Alabama. This has been extremely stressful on my mom, who really put a lot of dedication into the wedding planning and is bummed that it didn’t work out. She’s been particularly frazzled this past week, constantly scrambling to get all the rearrangements taken care of and terrified that more shutdowns with mess it all up again.

This is why I’m making this post here. Usually I would talk to my mom, or my therapist...but I don’t have another therapy appointment for a few weeks (if it hasn’t been cancelled for the virus) and my mom, well...she has enough of her own problems to deal with right now. I don’t want to burden her with mine.

And then there’s the situation at work. With the whole social distancing thing going on they’re trying to get as many people set up to work remotely as possible. Unfortunately, because of what I do and the way our network works, this entails bringing home my entire computer setup, which is a hassle in itself on merely a physical level. I stuck it out coming into the office longer than most of my coworkers, but my mom texted me today saying that they’re now talking about shutting down all “non-essential” businesses so if I wanted to work at all over the next little bit and not eat up vacation hours I should just bite the bullet and move my setup home. So I did. 

But now there’s another potential problem. I’ve got all the hardware and it should work just fine...but I also need internet connectivity in order to access our pipeline. As we were packing up my stuff, my coworker mentioned that he wasn’t actually sure if the computers had wifi capabilities and that I might have to plug it in directly...which could be a problem, because the internet connection is on the other side of the house from where I’d be working, and even if I moved my setup to that room I’m pretty sure I’d have to unplug the router in order to plug in this computer and then everyone else would lose their wifi...which would really suck with all of us being stuck at home right now, and would be especially detrimental to my dad who is also working from home right now and needs the wifi. 

Granted, I haven’t actually tried to hook it up just yet, so who knows, I might just get lucky and it’ll have wifi capabilities after all...but I don’t know for sure yet.

I mentioned this issue to my mom when I got home today, mostly just to warn her that I might have to make some weird arrangements like a long extensions cord or something (if it doesn’t in fact have wifi). Alas, that turned out to be a mistake...like I said, my mom’s already really stressed with the wedding stuff and a potential work computer problem just added fuel to the fire and then she started stressing about that too even though it’s not really a thing she needs to be worrying about, it’s my problem to figure out...but nonetheless I felt pretty guilty for making her feel even more stressed that she already was.

I don’t know what I’m going to do if I can’t get my work computer connected at home. I guess just bring it back to the office...but that’s assuming people with still be allowed in the building at all come next week. I just...I dunno man. I don’t know.

All this mess has led to me starting to experience certain anxiety symptoms that I haven’t really dealt with since I first went on my medication a few years ago, which means the stress is getting bad enough to...override the meds a bit. I guess. idk, the symptoms haven’t been too severe but the fact that they’re there at all...hng.

If you made it through this whole mess, congrats, I’m impressed

tl;dr

everything’s a mess, everyone’s stressed, I have anxiety and I don’t know who to talk to

not really looking for advice so much as just somewhere to vent and maybe some comfort, idk

Thanks for your time

-NattiKay

[goddessofthundathighs]

VII: WAITING

Suggested Listenings/Songs Mentioned: Overstimulated x Jhené Aiko; Loaded Gun x 6LACK; New Apartment x Ari Lennox

A/N: Instead of writing a separate chapter, the prompt that you picked is in this one @heybriheyyy!

The sound of heels clicking against the black and gold marble floors of the hallway alerted Erik of Skylar’s arrival. The pair had agreed to meet in his office for lunch to discuss his date with O’Shea and other methods of therapy he could implement going forward. For this to be merely a meeting among friends, she was dressed to kill sporting an ivory turtleneck sweater and black pinstripe pencil skirt that hugged her physique in all the right places. On her feet were a pair of black Priyadora Louboutin open-toe sandals and her signature gold wire-rimmed glasses held their usual place atop her head.

She walked in and shut the door behind her, a silent cue for Harper to cancel his appointments for at least the next hour.

“First of all, you’re an ass for leaving her the way you did. I understand that you were upset at her for laughing, but you could’ve handled that so much better.” Erik dropped his head. Though he rectified the situation, he knew that there was no way he would be able to escape Sky’s wrath about how he reacted to his phallus getting caught in Shea’s braces.

“I fixed it!” he declared, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat.

“Oh I know. Disney, huh?” Her lips were twisted into a knowing smirk, much to Erik’s disdain.

“It’s not what you think,” he lied unsuccessfully.

“Oh it’s exactly what I think, Stevens. You’re falling for her.”

“I am not.”

“Then what do you call it?” He paused for a moment, avoiding her face at all cost. He was reluctant to speak because it was a question he had been asking himself ever since he dropped O’Shea off at home the previous Friday. Sky must’ve sensed his dilemma because her demeanor softened as she took a seat in the chair across from him.

“Ok, let’s try this approach: why are you so drawn to her? Is it personal or purely experimental?”

“Is it selfish to say both?”

“Not entirely. Elaborate.”

“I can say that I like her, but it’s the way that I like her and the reasons why that is a mystery at the moment. On a personal level, she’s incredibly smart and beautiful. She challenges me much like you do and I genuinely like being in her company. On a professional level, I’m curious to how each of her personalities react in a true relationship setting. I could use that information to possibly determine why her past relationships failed and ensure that it doesn’t happen again.”

Skylar listened intently as Erik explained before giving her insight to the situation.

“That may be well and good but the fact still remains that she is a patient and a colleague of mine. Are you prepared to completely cross that line or do you want to solely as a means of furthering your research?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer as she continued her lecture. “Furthermore, if you choose the latter, are you prepared to handle the possible blowback? As free as you are with your methods there is still the review board to report to and they will ensure that every step you take is well documented down to the flavor of lube.. and ETHICAL. Tread very softly. I don't wanna see you lose your license over some emotional bullshit that could easily be straightened out.”

“That’s actually the part that scares me the most. I need to figure something out and fast.” Skylar agreed before grabbing her bag.

“Well let me know what you come up with,” she replied as she began making her way out of the office, leaving Erik with his wayward thoughts. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the text thread between he and O’Shea, chuckling to himself at their playful banter.

“What are you doing to me, Ms. Powell?” he spoke aloud with a sly smile, completely oblivious to the woman that now occupied his office.

“Dr. Stevens?” the young woman spoke, her soft voice causing him to lift his head. She sported a black biker jacket with blue jeans and timberland boots, her hair a curly mess atop her head.

“Yes, how may I help you?” he asked as he sat back in his chair.

“My name is Oya Ramirez. We spoke on the phone briefly the other day.”

“Oh yes, Ms. Ramirez, please have a seat.” Though her smile was bright, her eyes held pain. He could tell that life hadn’t exactly been good to her, but she was trying to make the best out of a bad situation.

“What brings you by, Ms. Ramirez?” he inquired as he sat up straight and grabbed a pen.

“Well, as of late, I've been having trouble achieving orgasms. I know what I like and I know all of the things necessary to get me to that point, but nothing seems to be working. I’ve scared off all of my usual partners because they say that my sex drive is too high and it’s unattractive, which I find absolutely ridiculous.” He looked up with one eyebrow raised, staring at her as though he’d seen a ghost. Everything she said was exactly what O’Shea had told him on their first meeting and he was starting to wonder if he were being Punk’d.

“I read this article in a psychology magazine about how you help women with that sort of thing and I was wondering if you could help me.” Erik couldn’t tell if it was fate or if God had a twisted sense of humor, but this was exactly the sort of thing he needed. He could use the treatment methods he used on O’Shea as a placebo to see if they would truly be practical enough to incorporate into his usual routine. Maybe leveling the playing field would also help him gain clarity of the O’Shea situation.

“Alright Ms. Ramirez, what are your kinks?” As she rattled off the list, he learned that she was a bratty lesbian looking for a dom to tame her.

“Well Ms. Ramirez, my schedule is pretty full at the moment, however, here’s my business partner’s card. She’ll be more than happy to assist you with your needs.”

----------------

“A business trip? For how long?” O’Shea pouted from her seat across from his desk.

“It’s only going to be a week, but in that week I want us to not contact one another. Instead, I want you to try and implement other methods to destress.”

“Did I do something? Was it something I said?” Buttercup begged in a tone so pitiful it almost made Erik cancel the whole trip and cradle her in his arms like the baby she was. He could see Sky in the back of his mind shaking her head and he could hear her saying, "Unhealthy attachment. Transference." And this is exactly why I need to go. We both need clarity.

“I’m not abandoning you, Princess. Trust me, this time next week we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled program and I’ll even have new things for us to try.”

O'Shea blinked at the thought of something new and interesting brought in specifically for her, curiosity softening the blow of temporary abandonment. Afterall, it was only a week and she'd gone longer without attention. She could probably do it again.

The thought crossed her mind to call up Cameron or Michael, past contacts she'd usually turn to in moments when she needed something quick. Neither Bennie, Buttercup, or Bianca would be satisfied, but at least O'Shea would be getting something. However, just as soon as the thought came, it left again. They just weren't worth it, besides there was something sexy and a little charming about waiting. Maybe distance would make their hearts grow fonder.

“Okay, I guess I can deal with that. Just don’t be tryna replace me while you’re gone,” she fake pouted.

“Someone sounds possessive,” he teased as he lead her out of his office, his hands by his side as to not complicate things further. She merely smiled, and continued out to her car, trying hard not to let the bratty beast within her loose before their little experiment had even began.

“Not possessive, just confident. There’s only one O’Shea Powell, Dr. Stevens. Have a safe trip.”

With that, she slid into the driver’s seat of her Benz and drove off into the sunset, leaving Erik yearning to be in her presence once again.

Crushing the line // cutting the line // crossing the line// Bumps in the night // Got me over here overstimulated // Crushing the line // cutting the line // crossing the line // Bumps in the night // Got me, got me over here, over

The first day without Erik was quiet. O’Shea went to work and back home and curled up with a book to ease her mind, her Something Chill playlist playing softly in the background. Though she didn’t want to believe that it was her fault that Erik had left, that’s where her mind kept drifting. She tried to convince herself that their interactions were nothing more than patient/client, she couldn’t ignore the obvious. Regardless of what was going on, no one would willingly purchase a Pandora bracelet or any other token of affection if there weren’t some feelings involved. Could it be that he too felt what she was feeling and was distancing himself to put those feelings into clarity? If so, then why wouldn’t they just talk things out like adults? Separation only gives way to doubt and doubt ruins everything. O’Shea sighed and closed her book. This week was about to be a long one.

“Ade due Damballa, give me the power I beg of you! Leveau mercier du bois chaloitte. Seciose entinne mais pois de morte. Morteisma--”

“Girl, what the hell are you doing?” O’Shea stopped mid-chant and opened one eye to find Skylar standing over her, one eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“I was tryna bring my nigga back, damn,” O’Shea pouted, placing the Pandora bracelet back on her wrist. Skylar doubled over in laughter at the meek woman before her. Erik had only been gone 2 days and she was already acting crazy.

“First of all, stop it, you look stupid. That only works for the transference of spirits and you need the actual Heart of Damballa in order for it to work.”

“I keep forgetting you a wholeass Creole voodoo priestess in your spare time,” O’Shea remarked, pulling out her sketchbook to draw more prototypes.

“And you’re acting like a lovesick puppy.”

“I don’t know what it is, Sky. Like aside from the bomb ass head, I actually miss our conversations. He listened to me, made me laugh. Hell he was the first man in a while that actually cared about how my day was going and how I was feeling throughout the day. I know that’s his job as a therapist and all, but something about it seemed different.”

“Do you think you’re possibly starting to grow feelings for him?”

“Absolutely not!” Shea lied. In actuality, it was a thought she’d mulled over several times since their Disney adventure.

“Why do y’all insist on lying to me? Tell me what’s going on with you,” Sky said, pulling up a chair beside her. O’Shea sighed heavily, not really wanting to expose her true feelings, but Skylar wasn’t just anyone. She was a confidant and also a neutral source. If anyone could help Shea sort through her emotions, it would be her.

“I honestly don’t know how to explain it. Like on one hand, he’s strictly my therapist. Someone more than qualified to help me address my current issues and find and adequate solution. On the other hand, he’s Erik. An incredibly smart and equally handsome man that has put me in my place more times in the last few months than I can remember. I haven’t even laid eyes on the dick yet and I’m already acting like a prized poodle in the Westminster Kennel Club. When he says jump, I want to ask how high and that scares me. Instead of being turned off or annoyed by my little personalities, he embraces and nurtures them in a healthy way and I’m having a hard time distinguishing whether he’s this way because he genuinely wants to be or because, as a doctor, he has to be.” Skylar nodded, absorbing everything that O’Shea had to say before adding her two cents.

“So, I’ll ask again, are you growing feelings him? Before you answer, think about this: if you are growing feelings, are you capable of continuing a professional relationship with him if those feelings aren’t reciprocated?” O’Shea hadn’t thought about the fact that Erik may not feel the same and hearing it now had her stomach in knots. Skylar sensed her dilemma and continued her speech.

“Now I’m not asking this to scare you or to send you off the deep end with your emotions, but I’m being realistic. I honestly think you two need time apart so you both can get clarity of the situation as well as come to terms with whatever y’all are both feeling towards one another.

“He’s going to Wakanda for a week. He suggested that we not call or text one another the entire trip, something about finding other methods to destress.” Leave it to Erik to already be three steps ahead.

“Good. While he’s gone, I have a yoga class I think you’ll be interested in and we can go together.”

“Eww, I hate yoga,” Shea complained.

“You’ll enjoy this, trust me.”

----------------

The sunset in Wakanda was always the most beautiful part of visiting his aunt and cousins. It had been a few years since he’d visited the advanced nation and each time, something new caught his attention. This time, it was the customizations she had made to T’Challa’s Black Panther suit that caught his eye. She had added a stealth mode, meaning he could go invisible if needed be when he was in battle. His younger cousin never ceased to amaze him with her genius nature. One he’d gotten his belongings put away, he set out to find his aunt Ramonda. She was his second mother and if anyone could help him gain clarity of his current predicament, it was her. He found her seated in the floating tea room that overlooked the lush garden at the center of the palace. It was her one of her favorite places in the palace. She always came here when she wanted to get away and clear her head. She was adorned in a white Wakandan lace robe with a matching headdress.

“Auntie, can I talk to you about something?” She beamed, giving him a knowing smile before beckoning him to sit down beside her. She took his hand into her own and squeezed it gently, letting him know that he could speak freely.

“Tell me about her,” was all she said, noting the troubled look in his eyes.

“Who said a girl was involved?” She stared up at him incredulously before chuckling.

“You ask that as though I do not know you, N’Jadaka. You’ve checked your phone every 10 minutes since you got here and I can always read the trouble behind your eyes. Now, tell me about her.” He sighed, hating that he could never hide anything from his aunt.

“It’s one of my clients, I think I’m falling for her.” Ramonda chuckled softly to herself as she studied Erik. She could tell that the topic was a difficult one for him, noting the way he tugged nervously at a lone dreadlock that hung loosely in his face.

“Didn’t you say that you’d never get involved with one of your patients because it’s messy and unprofessional? What changed your mind?”

“I don't know Auntie. There’s something different about this girl. She intrigues me on a level that no other woman has before. She’s witty, and the culmination of her different personalities create a very interesting and sharp young lady," he smiled recounting the times her mouth had been quicker than he could anticipate.

"The man is asked to explain his attraction and he talks about multiple personalities," Shuri tsks making her presence known.

“Obviously I am needed! N'Jadaka!" Her hand clapped hard onto his back as she stood between him and the queen gazing out into the garden ahead.

"Figure out if she is an experiment, a patient, or a lover, but don’t use her to fill your emotional gaps. You’re a jerk if you do,” Shuri scolded before heading back towards her laboratory. "Thank me later," she called as she disappeared from sight. Erik stared after her for a beat before turning back to his aunt to squeezed his hand once more.

“She may be young, but she is wise beyond her years and she knows what she’s talking about. I can give you all of the advice in the world, but at the end of the day, it’s your decision to make. Lord knows we don’t want another Lynda situation,” the Queen concluded as she stood.

She stepped to the side and followed Shuri's path to the exit leaving Erik to gaze solemnly out over the garden and into the grand horizon. He thought back to his relationship with Lynda and how it ended, concluding with himself that O’Shea definitely wasn’t a Lynda. She was an enigma, but a goddess in her own right. She deserved someone that could give her his whole heart and love her as hard as he knew she loved. She deserved to be catered to and spoiled, but also disciplined whenever she stepped out of line; she was a submissive after all. She deserved a lover and a provider and he wasn’t sure that he could be all of those things for her, but he was more than willing to try.

“Dammit. I think I’m in love.” He whipped out his phone and called Skylar, remembering some things he forgot to tell her before he left.

“Wassup lover boy? Miss me already?”

“I always miss you, Nola,” he smirked, hearing her soft gasp at the nickname he hadn’t used since college.

“Real funny, Stevens. To what pleasure do I owe this phone call?”

“I know you don’t really do therapy, but I referred you to someone, Oya Ramirez. She suffers from the same symptoms as our bipolar beauty minus the other personalities and I figured she’d be a good experiment for you. She should be stopping by some time this week.”

“Oya Ramirez,” Skylar repeated, jotting the name down in her notebook for reference. “Got it. Anything else?”

“Nah, that’s it. I’ll be back in a few days. How my girl?”

“Oh, now she’s your girl?”

“You know what I mean. She doing ok?”

“She’s pretty good. We’ve got a yoga date tomorrow.”

“Yoga? She hates yoga.”

“There’s weed involved.”

“Ah,” he states with a nod. “I knew there had to be a catch, but yoga’s good. Good way to get her mind off things.”

“I’m well aware, Dr. Stevens. I’ll keep you posted on her progress.”

“Thanks, Nola. I owe you one.”

“You’re eternally indebted to me, Stevens. I thought we had this discussion already.”

“You right. I’ll make sure I bring you back something dope. Peace.” Erik ended the call and returned to his suite in the palace. It was a room he’d tried and failed to duplicate in his condo back in LA. The color scheme was black, white, and gold with a huge Alaskan king bed trimmed in black and gold in the center of the room. The walls were decorated with paintings of African and Egyptian royalty, including Queen Nefertiti and Anubis from Egyptian mythology. A large floor length mirror hung on the back of his bedroom door and his closet was its own ensuite. The floor was black and gold heated marble, the inspiration to the floor in his office and the ceiling changed to mimic the sky outside, no matter the time of day. He undressed and slipped under the covers, trying and failing to keep his mind from drifting to the current object of his affection as 6LACK‘s mellow voice filled the room.

I got women callin’ my phone like I owe them some’ // It’s kinda my fault // I guess I showed them some’ // No shit, I treat my dick just like a loaded gun // Point that shit away // These hoes gon’ blow what comes

He shook his head, smiling softly at the image of her little pout and the way her eyes lit up when he surprised her with the Pandora bracelet. He would give anything to see her smile the way she smiled that night again. The slight dip of the bed caused Erik to raise his head, only to drop it back against the pillow one he realized who the intruder was.

“I missed you too, Massika,” he murmured as the jaguar made her way up the bed and to her usual spot beside him. She purred softly, rubbing her nose against his face before settling down beside him. She had been his baby ever since he’d rescued her from poachers the last time he visited. Everywhere he went, Massika followed and he made a mental note to introduce her to O’Shea once they were official.

--------------------

Today felt different. The sunlight crept through the large bow window, casting an ethereal glow throughout the bedroom. O’Shea woke roughly 20 minutes before her alarm, something that typically only happened when she was stressed. She stretched and said her morning affirmations before finally slipping out of bed, a small smile creeping across her face.

“Hey Alexa, play Something Chill.” As the device came to life, O’Shea retired to her bathroom and allowed Ari Lennox’s smooth voice to help her get ready for the day.

Pop my woo-hah in the sky // ‘Cause nobody here to judge my life // Leave the dishes in the sink // Do some cartwheels // “Cause my furniture ain’t came // Standard shipping thing // I just got a new apartment // I’m gon’ leave the floor wet // Walk around this bitch naked // And nobody can tell me shit

Since she was awake early, she decided to indulge in a relaxing bath with her newest bath bomb from Lush, called Royalty. The floral scent of the bomb permeated the bathroom before being replaced by a hint of vanilla and sandalwood. She watched as the water turned from a warm golden to soft red and green before slipping into the water. She loved how soft the soy milk powder left her skin, smoother than a baby’s ass fresh from its mother’s womb. After a 30-minute soak, she retired from her bath to get dressed, choosing to slick her curls up into a high puff while sporting a white, floral mini dress and a jean jacket. She felt good, a genuine smile crossed her face as she glanced down at the Pandora bracelet that rested in the center of her jewelry box for the past 3 days. She’d chosen not to wear it, fearing that she would be plagued with thoughts of Erik and be tempted to call or text him. Thanks to Skylar, the week had gone by a lot faster than she’d expected and he was due back home within the next few hours. A quick swipe of her Fenty gloss bomb and she was out the door, a newfound pep in her step.

The jingle of the shop’s bell pulled Shea from her sketchbook. She looked up to find a short, light-skinned woman coming over to the counter. Her hair was braided into cornrows and she wore a white cropped hoodie, blue jean shorts, and white Fila tennis shoes.

“Hello. My name is Oya Ramirez. I was sent here by Dr. Erik Stevens. He told me to ask for Skylar.” O’Shea regarded the young woman for a bit before walking to the back to get Sky.

“Oh Ms. Ramirez, Dr. Stevens told me you’d be stopping by. Follow me this way.” Oya complied, walking with Sky to the back of the store. O’Shea smirked, watching the way Skylar’s eyes followed every move Oya made until they had disappeared somewhere among the tall shelves. Once they were gone, O’Shea turned her attention back to her sketchbook. Since the dildo generator had been approved, Sky had tasked O’Shea with designing preset models that could be customized for potential clients that didn’t want to design their own tool from scratch. Just as she was getting back into her groove, the bell jingled again.

“Hello, welcome to —”

The cocoa skinned woman held up her hand to silence Shea.

“I’m Monica, where’s Skylar?” Almost on cue, Sky emerged from the back of the store with Oya, both giggling like schoolgirls. Once Sky’s eyes met Monica’s however, her smile faded.

“Baby!” Monica tried, attempting to throw her arms around Sky’s neck, but stopping once she saw the death glare Sky was giving.

“Oya, call me tomorrow with updates. O’Shea, take your break.”

“But I just got here,” O’Shea complained.

“I said take a break!” Sky repeated, raising her voice slightly to emphasize her point. Shea seemed to take the hint, leaving Sky and Monica alone in the shop.

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