#i should wait until i get my adhd meds before i start this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zizzlekwum · 2 months ago

Text

Stranger In A Not-So-Strange Land

Masterlist

CHAPTER NINE

The Jeffersonian's latest case involves Dr. Brennan's father and a potential conspiracy. Follows the events of Bones Season 2 Episode 11 "Judas On A Pole."

Trigger Warnings: none

Word Count: 9,325

Tag List: @leftoverenvy @itsmeanobody @ctrljuls @theclassicgaycousin @fatherfigured [if you want to be added to the tag list, please comment or send me an ask]

NOTE: So sorry about the year-long wait. I started and completed EMT school, and then I didn't have my ADHD med for a few months because of a shortage and I couldn't focus on writing. I just got it back today, so I should be good to go!

You’ve only had a few hours to relax after flying home when your phone rings. You glance at the caller ID; it’s Booth. “What’s up?” you ask, putting the phone to your ear.

“Got a body, you free?” Booth asks.

You hesitate, contemplating telling him that you just got back from a case before deciding against it. “Uh… you know what, yeah, sure. Is Brennan gonna be there?” you ask. “I thought Zack was supposed to be presenting his dissertation. Isn’t she on that committee?”

“Yeah, but they can do it without her,” Booth replies. “I’m on my way to pick her up now.”

“She’s not gonna like that.”

“Yeah, well, real murder trumps talking about murder,” he says.

You sigh. “I suppose it does. Okay, just send me the address and I’ll meet you there.”

“You got it,” Booth tells you. “See you in a bit.” Hanging up the phone, you grab your keys and your backpack before exiting your apartment and heading to your car. Before you start driving, you check your texts to get the address.

* * * * *

You arrive at the scene a couple minutes before Booth and Dr. Brennan, so you wait off to the side and simply observe the body, burned and propped up as if on a cross, until they get there. The three of you approach the body together.

“How was Zack doing?” you ask Dr. Brennan.

“I think he was doing well,” she tells you before beginning to examine the body. “Male. Middle-aged. I think these are what’s left of his intestines,” she says, bending down to retrieve the burned organ.

“Is he gonna make it?” Booth asks.

“No,” Brennan says. “He’s very dead.” She chuckles.

“I mean Zack,” Booth tells her.

Dr. Brennan begins examining the body’s right arm. “Uh, fifty-fifty.”

“He’ll make it,” you say confidently.

“He’s a stoolie,” Booth comments.

“Who, Zack?” Brennan asks.

“Our victim,” he says.

You frown, glancing at Booth. “I don’t know what that means.”

“He’s a rat, a snitch,” Booth explains.

“How can you tell?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“He got his guts spilled, all right?” Booth tells you. “You know, spill your guts?”

“Very literal,” Brennan says.

Booth sighs. “Hung up there like a scarecrow on a rooftop of a hotel used to house witnesses. It’s a warning.”

Brennan arches an eyebrow, reaching up to the victim’s mouth. “There’s something jammed down his trachea,” she notes, turning to Booth. “We can get it out back at the lab.”

* * * * *

Back at the lab, Zack is filling Hodgins in about his dissertation meeting as he extracts the item, which appears to be a folded piece of notebook paper, from the trachea and Cam examines the legs. “I rectified their erroneous assumptions concerning polyvinyl replication.”

Hodgins stares at Zack. “You corrected them?” You bark out a laugh.

“Only when they were wrong,” Zack replies. Hodgins chuckles as Zack turns to Cam. “Are the remains ready for X-ray?”

Cam nods, looking up at him. “Yes. Maybe we’ll get lucky and ID the poor bastard that way.”

“Oh, we just got lucky,” Hodgins tells the three of you, holding out a tray with the unfolded paper on it.

“‘My name is Garrett Delaney,’” Zack reads.

“Well, that’s unexpected,” you say.

Cam frowns, looking down the victim’s throat. “There’s something metallic here,” she says, grabbing a pair of forceps and extracting what appears to be a coin from the body. She places it on a tray. “This is gonna turn out to be some freaky, weird, ritualistic shit, isn’t it?”

Hodgins looks at her with a grin. “Oh, man, I hope so.” You snort.

Zack examines the coin. “Christopher Columbus,” he says.

“Where’s Dr. Brennan?” Cam asks.

“Russ is here,” you tell her. “Her brother. Speaking of which, I kinda wanna know why he’s here. If you’ll excuse me.” You walk out of the room and down the hall to Dr. Brennan’s office, meeting up with Booth, who also just arrived.

“…I’ve got cold beer in the fridge,” Brennan is telling Russ, holding out her keys.

“No, don’t drink the Moroccan beer,” Booth warns Russ. “Tastes like ear wax.”

You grimace. “Tastes like shit,” you agree.

Booth holds out his hand. “How you doing, Russell?”

Russ shakes his hand. “Okay, Booth. You? Good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Russ catches the keys that Brennan tosses at him, nodding hello to you as he leaves.

Booth looks to Brennan. “I still make him nervous, don’t I?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, pulling Brennan up from her seat. “Come on, let’s go.”

Brennan smacks his hand away from her arm. “Wha— why do I always feel like you’re abducting me?” You laugh, following them out to Booth’s SUV, Dr. Brennan filling the two of you in on her conversation with Russ along the way, along with her father’s warning that the two of them are being watched.

* * * * *

“So, uh, yeah, turns out our corpse is a former FBI agent,” Booth tells you as he opens the door to Garrett Delaney’s apartment. “Garrett Delaney. He left the FBI about fifteen years ago. He’s now head of security of some big K Street lobbyist.”

“Was,” you correct as you follow Brennan into the apartment.

“So why’d he end up a human torch?” Brennan asks.

Booth begins looking around the kitchen. “That’s what we’re here to find out.”

Brennan examines the living room. “His place is much better than yours,” she notes. “Ten times better.”

Booth sighs. “I told you, he left public service. He makes, uh, more money than me.” He pauses. “So your dad just said you were in danger, huh? Nothing else?”

“Yes,” Brennan says, taking a credit card out of her wallet and using it to try to unlock a door to the right. “And Russ’ sixth sense agrees.”

Booth glances at her. “What are you doing?”

She grins. “I’ve been practicing some of the black ops stuff you showed me.”

“Here, let me,” you tell her, taking a lockpick out of your back pocket. “I have the good stuff.”

“I’m gonna ignore that,” Booth tells you, pointedly looking away as you jimmy the lock.

“What?” you say, biting the tip of your tongue as you concentrate. “It’s not like I use it for nefarious purposes. Just investigative stuff in the line of duty.”

“Anyway, as for Russ,” Brennan continues, “every FBI agent in the country is looking for my father. Maybe he’s trying to scare us off.”

“Six months without a break in the case,” Booth tells her. “He ain’t gonna be nervous.”

“My dad’s a career criminal,” Brennan argues as the lock clicks and you give a small shout of triumph. “Just because he says Russ is in danger doesn’t mean it’s the truth.”

Booth shakes his head as you open the door and walk through. You stop just inside the threshold. “Uh, Dr. Brennan?” you say, eyes widening. “I think your dad might just be right this time.” The wall in front of you is plastered with surveillance pictures of her brother.

“Russ,” Brennan says quietly as she takes it all in. “These are all pictures of Russ.”

* * * * *

In the FBI conference room, Russ is looking over the surveillance pictures of him while you, Booth, and Brennan watch. Brennan stands next to him while you and Booth sit across from them.

“Me at work,” Russ says, flipping through the pictures. “Me and Amy.” He nods at the next picture, handing it to Booth. “This was the day before yesterday. Dad was right. Somebody’s watching.”

“This is worse than watching,” Booth says quietly, examining another picture.

Brennan frowns. “What do you mean?”

“This is hunting,” he tells her.

“Hunting?” Russ repeats, his eyes wide.

“Like, hunting to kill?” you ask.

Booth nods. “You see these?” Booth flips a photo around to show Russ and Brennan, pointing. “Right here. These are ranges. He’s picking out a spot from which to shoot at you.”

“So what do I do now?” Russ asks.

“The hunter’s dead. The hunt is over, right?” Brennan says.

“I mean, only if we’re assuming that Delaney was working alone,” you say. “He could’ve been told to take Russ out.”

“To what end?” Brennan asks.

You shrug. “We don’t have enough information to know that yet.”

“Anyone else know you’re here?” Booth asks Russ.

Russ shakes his head. “Only Amy.”

Booth takes his cell phone out of his pocket. “Great. Call Amy and tell her if anyone calls looking for you, she doesn’t know where you’re at.” He tosses the phone across the table to Russ.

“You should stay with me until we find out why Delaney intended to kill you,” Brennan tells her brother.

“How are you gonna do that?” he asks.

“Well, we start by figuring out who killed him,” you tell Russ. Booth nods.

* * * * *

When the three of you arrive back at the Jeffersonian, Hodgins pulls you and Booth aside, looking excited.

“Shit,” you say, sighing.

“What?” Booth asks.

You gesture at Hodgins. “That’s his this-is-a-conspiracy face. I’m guessing this case is about to get even more complicated.”

Hodgins grins, handing Booth an old piece of paper. You lean over Booth’s shoulder and begin to read as Hodgins explains. “1970s, Ohio,” he says, tapping the paper. “There is a task force made up of FBI, state police, and local cops. It goes bad, starts taking a cut from the same bank robbers they’re supposed to be catching.” Hodgins points to the paper again, but Booth moves his hand away. “Well then, they conspire to plant a stack of stolen money on Marvin Beckett.” He points to the paper again. “Well, then this young agent, right, Harper, okay? He decides he can’t live with that and decides to blow the whistle.” Hodgins goes to point to the paper again, but Booth grabs his hand.

“We can read,” Booth tells him.

Hodgins doesn’t listen, too excited by the conspiracy to care. “The same guy who’s gonna blow the whistle on them for framing Marvin Beckett then gets murdered by Marvin Beckett? Come on. Talk about killing two birds with one stone.”

Booth looks up from the paper in his hand. “Okay, who else knows about this?”

“Us and you,” Hodgins replies. “That’s it.”

Booth nods. “Let’s keep it that way.”

Hodgins frowns. “Hey, I’ve seen this movie. I get killed on the way home.”

“Then don’t go home,” Booth says, shrugging. You chuckle.

“You serious?” Hodgins says as you follow Booth away from him.

“So, what’s our next move?” you ask Booth. “We have to be very careful about how we play our cards.”

Booth nods. “You’re telling me.” He sighs. “I guess we could talk to Harper’s widow.”

“Assuming she isn’t involved,” you mutter.

Booth sighs again. “Yeah, that.”

* * * * *

Back at the FBI conference room, you sit next to Gus Harper’s widow, Barbara Harper. Brennan sitting on the other side and Booth standing next to you.

“Thirty years ago, I was married to Gus Harper for exactly eight months,” Barbara says. “I’m not sure how I can help you.”

“What about the contents of this note?” Booth asks, pointing to the picture of the note on the table.

Barbara eyes him for a moment. “What do you people want?”

“The truth,” Dr. Brennan tells her.

Barbara scoffs. “The last time the FBI came to talk to me, they told me to keep my mouth shut, or I wouldn’t get my husband’s death benefits.”

“Your husband is a good man,” Booth tells her, “and he tried to do the right thing, and he ended up dead.” Booth shakes his head. “I can’t let that stand.”

Barbara is quiet for a moment. Then she swallows hard. “The FBI murdered Gus,” she tells the three of you. She shakes her head. “Then they had a state funeral for him, complete with the grieving widow as a centerpiece.”

Brennan slides the picture of the note closer to Barbara. “Is this your husband’s handwriting?” she asks softly.

Barbara picks up the paper and examines it. “Yes,” she says in a shaky voice. “He was compiling evidence.”

“So-so there’s more, then?” you ask.

She nods. “There was a diary, a dozen audio tapes, field notes.”

“And where did Gus keep it?” Booth asks.

“Safety-deposit box,” Barbara replies.

“Can you tell us where that, uh, safety-deposit box was?”

“Ohio First Savings and Loan, in Dayton.”

You, Brennan, and Booth share a look. Brennan stands, exiting the room. “Excuse us one moment,” Booth tells Barbara as the two of you follow Brennan out. Booth slides the door closed behind him.

“My parents robbed that exact bank,” Brennan says, her eyes wide, “just days after Gus Harper was killed!” She takes a breath. “They were looking for that evidence!”

“Probably why Delaney was stalking Russ,” you point out.

Booth nods at Brennan. “Go home. I have a few more questions for Barbara Harper, okay? You go home, and you be with your brother, all right?”

Brennan nods. “Okay.”

You look to Booth. “I’m gonna go back to the Jeffersonian, see if Cam and Zack were able to get anything else useful from the body.”

“Do that. I’ll let you know if I find out anything else,” Booth tells you, turning to go back into the conference room. You follow Brennan to the elevator, going over everything you know of the case so far in your mind.

* * * * *

You’re about to text Booth, letting him know the lab has nothing new, when he calls you, telling you to meet him at Brennan’s house. When you get there, Booth is knocking on her door, holding a file.

“Gus Harper’s service history,” he says as a way of greeting when Brennan opens the door. He walks past her into her apartment, and you follow after him. “Graduated top of his class in Quantico. He was assigned to the joint State-Federal Bank Robbery Task Force.” He tosses the file onto Brennan’s coffee table and Russ opens it up. “Right there,” Booth says, pointing.

Brennan picks up an old, black-and-white photo. “The victim.”

Booth nods. “Back when he was Special Agent Delaney supervising Gus Harper.”

Russ frowns. “The guy that was hunting me?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Booth flips through the file and pulls out another paper, turning it to face you and Brennan. “Okay, here’s a list of the bank robbers with their FBI code names.”

Brennan examines the list. “Dad’s code name was Columbus,” she tells Russ.

“Yeah. You got Lewis, Clark, Magellan, Cook, Columbus.” Booth tosses a picture of each person on the table as he says their name.

“All named after famous explorers,” you note.

Russ points to two of the pictures. “That’s Mom and Dad.”

“Every one of these people are deceased,” Booth says.

“Except for Dad,” Brennan says.

“Delaney was killed to send a message to the FBI,” Booth tells her, handing her a coin. “This Columbus coin was found in the victim’s mouth.”

Brennan frowns, examining the coin. “Columbus shot a man in the head, hung him from a pole, gutted him, and set him on fire,” she says slowly. She shakes her head and glances at Russ, looking stricken. “And Columbus… is our father.”

* * * * *

The next morning, you’re sitting at the Royal Diner with Booth. You’ve just been given your breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon when Miss Julian takes a seat next to you. “What you’re asking is the kind of thing that destroys careers,” she tells the two of you, opting to skip a greeting. “From the time I was a little girl, I dreamed of putting bad men in jail— put that back,” she tells Booth as he reaches for a donut hole in front of him. Booth frowns but complies. “Which is why I became an Assistant United States Attorney.”

“Okay, well, you don’t have to help me,” Booth tells her.

“Of course I have to help you!” she exclaims. You nod. “Marvin Beckett is still a hero to a lot of African Americans. Some of us never believed he killed this FBI boy. Now you buy me breakfast, tell me you found a way to clear his name, release him out of wrongful incarceration after thirty years? I cannot walk away, which you already know!” Miss Julian slaps Booth’s hand away from the donut holes in front of him again as he looks longingly at the plate.

Booth instead takes a sip from his coffee. “Look, maybe you should have some more coffee.”

“Of course I want more coffee!” Miss Julian exclaims. “We have to come up with our plan of attack.”

You decide to chime in. “Booth was thinking Judge Moran—“

“We should exhume Gus Harper,” Miss Julian tells the two of you, interrupting you. “See if your genius scientist partner can ascertain whether he died in the manner the FBI said he died thirty years ago.”

Booth nods. “Moran’s got a long—“

“No,” Miss Julian interrupts again. “We want Kemper.”

“‘Hang Em High’ Kemper?” Booth repeats, incredulous.

“Hey, if I’m ruining my career, I’m doing it my way, understand?” You nod solemnly. “Now, take a donut hole. I’m offering.”

Booth cautiously takes one, and when Miss Julian doesn’t take it away, he smiles. “Thanks,” he tells her.

You stand, swallowing your last bite of bacon. “I’m gonna head to the Jeffersonian,” you tell Booth. “See if Dr. Brennan was able to get anything else from Delaney’s body.” Booth nods and gives you a wave as you exit the diner.

* * * * *

Back at the Jeffersonian, Zack is holding up a bullet to show Brennan. “This was lodged in Garrett Delaney’s sinus cavity,” he tells her.

“.22 caliber,” Brennan notes.

Zack nods, picking up the skull. “These dimples indicate that the bullet ricocheted around inside the cranium,” Zack explains, more for your benefit than Dr. Brennan’s.

Brennan examines the skull from beside Zack. “You worried about your doctorate?” she asks.

Zack shakes his head. “No. Dr. Grayson touched me with an open hand on the shoulder.”

You frown. “I don’t know what that means.”

“You mean inappropriately?” Brennan asks, mirroring your frown.

“No,” Zack says, shaking his head again. “I read a book on body language. Apparently in our culture, when an older male lays an open hand on a younger male, it conveys approval. But if he bumps younger male with a closed fist, it conveys doubt.” Zack pats Dr. Brennan’s shoulder with an open hand. “Dr. Grayson went like this. Not this,” he says, closing his fist.

You stifle a laugh as Brennan shakes her head. “Dr. Grayson is elderly and arthritic. Perhaps he simply needed help getting to his feet,” she proposed, pulling on Zack’s shoulder. “Like this.”

“Dr. Brennan?” A security guard comes up behind the three of you. Brennan turns to face him. “Visitors in your office.”

Brennan pats Zack on the shoulder (with an open hand, of course) and begins to walk to her office, you following close behind. You turn the corner and are greeted by Russ.

“Tempe,” he says, taking a step toward her. He gives you a nod in greeting. “Agent Y/L/N. This is a friend of Dad’s. Father Coulter is Toby Coulter, train trestle guy.”

Brennan smiles. “Oh yeah, I remember that story,” she says, shaking Father Coulter’s hand. “When Dad and his friend accidentally blew up a train trestle.”

“Come on,” Booth says from behind Russ, coming down the stairs. “How do you accidentally blow up a train trestle?”

“My dad blew up a lake once,” you note. “He just threw a block of sodium metal into it and ran. Also once he filled up an air mattress with gas and taped a lit candle to it, then pushed it out onto the lake. The resulting boom was heard in three separate towns. Different lakes both times, though.”

Father Coulter laughs. “Sounds like your father and I would get along,” he says.

You stop in your tracks when you look at Father Coulter, eyes going wide. You immediately recognize him as Max Keenan in disguise, Brennan’s father.

“Are you okay?” Brennan asks, noticing you lagging behind.

You plaster a smile on your face and nod, stepping forward to shake the fake priest’s hand. “Yeah, sorry,” you say, eyeing Father Coulter. “I was just startled by the strong resemblance to a friend’s father,” you tell him carefully. “Don’t mind me, just a blast from the past.” You force yourself to chuckle.

Father Coulter raises an eyebrow, contemplating you, and you maintain eye contact, trying not to appear uncomfortable in the suddenly tense atmosphere. After a moment, he smiles, and the tension drains from the room. He reaches out to shake your hand. “Well, I hope your friend’s father was a good man,” he says with a chuckle, still not breaking eye contact.

You smile uneasily, shaking his hand a bit longer than necessary. “He had his moments, but overall yeah, he was,” you say. You force yourself to look to Dr. Brennan, who has been watching the exchange with a bemused look on her face. “Sorry to derail the meeting with my memories,” you tell her, willing your smile to appear normal and not forced. You look back at ‘Father Coulter.’ “Go on, regale us with the time you blew up a train trestle,” you tell him.

Father Coulter finally looks away from you to address the others. “Well, we were hired by a farmer to dynamite the ice off his stock pond,” he begins. “So we get this competition going who’s gonna slide the dynamite farther across the ice before it blows.” Father Coulter chuckles.

“You know, it’s a federal offense to blow up a train trestle, Father,” Booth tells him. “I mean, even if it is accidental.”

“Father Toby Coulter, meet my partner, Seeley Booth,” Brennan introduces.

“Careful,” Russ adds as Father Coulter and Booth shake hands. “He’s FBI.”

“Mm, well I’m innocent,” Father Coulter jokes. “It was Max’s toss that brought the trestle down.” You bite your tongue.

Booth glances at Father Coulter. “Hm. Max Keenan’s best friend grows up to be a priest.”

You chuckle tensely as Father Coulter smiles, unfazed. “I’m sure your people have that fact on file somewhere.”

“Tempe,” Russ says, “Father Coulter has a message from Dad.”

Father Coulter glances at you and Booth. “It’s a private message,” he says.

Brennan nods. “Come to my office.” She leads the rest of you to her office. Father Coulter goes to close the door behind him but Booth grabs it.

“She’s just gonna tell them anyway,” Russ tells Father Coulter, gesturing toward you and Booth. “Might as well let them listen.” You follow Booth into the office, closing the door behind you.

Once everyone is situated, you turn your attention to Father Coulter. “‘Back off,’” he says. “That’s the message. He said you’d understand.”

“Where’d you see him,” Booth asks immediately.

“In confession,” Father Coulter replies. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“We’re not Catholic,” Brennan notes, frowning.

“Well, the sanctity of the confessional is extended to all,” Booth tells her. “Um, did he ever call you on your cell phone, Father?”

Father Coulter looks at Booth for a moment before answering. “Two days ago.”

“Can I see your phone?” Booth asks.

Father Coulter chuckles. “You want to trace the call?”

“Yeah,” Booth says, smiling as he reaches into his pocket to grab his own phone. Father Coulter hands him his cell phone without complaint. “So, uh, Max Keenan,” Booth continues. “He uh, come to you for absolution?”

“Well, I’m sure you know the requirements for confession,” Father Coulter says.

“Contrition and intent not to repeat the sin,” Booth says.

“I doubt Max has either,” you say calmly, looking to Father Coulter, who shakes his head.

“As a priest, I failed him,” Father Coulter says. “I never was able to get him to walk the straight and narrow.”

Brennan shifts in her seat. “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

Father Coulter sighs. “Well, he was angry. He felt his hand had been forced.”

“Where can we reach you, Father?” Brennan asks.

“Father Coulter is staying at St. Augustine Seminary for the next few days before heading back to Ohio,” Russ tells her.

Booth hands Father Coulter his phone back. “Here, Father.”

Father Coulter looks at Dr. Brennan. “Your father loves you,” he tells her.

“Is that part of Dad’s message?” Brennan asks.

Father Coulter shakes his head. “That’s a personal observation.”

* * * * *

The next day, you find yourself with Booth and Brennan at Booth’s office, going over the evidence you have. “Delaney’s murder, the threats on Russ’ life— this is all happening now because of a little metal dolphin we found on your mother’s grave,” Booth tells Brennan, placing a folder down on his desk. “FBI field unit in Denver traced it to a local artist in Mead, Colorado.”

“Who identified Dad as the buyer,” Dr. Brennan finishes. “But Delaney left the FBI fifteen years ago.”

“Obviously he didn’t stop working on the cover up,” you mutter.

“Somebody told him about Max,” Booth says.

“And didn’t tell you?” Brennan asks, frowning.

“Conspiracy to cover it up, remember?” you tell her. “They’re obviously also part of it.”

“You guys must be annoyed,” Brennan notes.

“You know what, I’m not annoyed,” Booth tells her. “I’m pissed. I am. And I don’t like finding out there’s a dirty FBI agent in this building.”

“Possibly more than one,” you point out as Booth goes to close his office door.

Booth walks back to his desk, looking over his shoulder out of the window. “Here’s what I think happened— Delaney goes to your father,” he tells Brennan. “He asks him to hand over the evidence. If he doesn’t do it, he kills you or Russ.”

“Dad calls Russ to warn him,” Brennan says. “And then….”

“Kills Delaney,” you say for her.

“Guts him, burns him, leaves a calling card,” Booth continues.

“Telling everyone not to screw with Max Keenan’s kids,” you finish.

Brennan shakes her head. “Am I supposed to like that?” she says quietly.

Booth sighs. “You know, Bones, I’ll take a stand-up crook over a crooked cop any day of the week.” You nod in agreement.

“Booth!” You turn to the door to see Miss Julian. “I got us a meet with the judge. Let’s go. And you,” she says, pointing to Brennan, “better get back to your lab in case we’re successful.”

Booth turns to Brennan. “I just find it best to do what she says,” he tells her before following Miss Julian out the door. You contemplate who to follow for a moment before deciding on Booth and hurrying after him.

* * * * *

In his chambers, Judge Kemper looks at Miss Julian with a disbelieving look on his face. “You want to exhume the young FBI agent that Marvin Beckett murdered?”

Miss Julian nods. “That’s correct, Your Honor.”

Judge Kemper sighs, taking off his reading glasses. “That is a big, noisy mess in the making.”

“The FBI has credible evidence that the homicide case against Marvin Beckett was manufactured,” Booth tells him as the door behind you opens and shuts as someone else enters the room.

“Assistant United States Attorney Dan Burridge, arguing against this writ, Judge Kemper,” the man who just came in says.

“Uh, on behalf of?” the judge asks.

“The FBI,” AUSA Burridge states. You cringe.

Judge Kemper points between you and Booth. “I thought the two of you were FBI?”

“We are, Your Honor,” Booth replies. You nod.

The judge shakes his head. “I told you. A big, noisy mess.” He sighs. “All right, let’s hear your argument, Mr. Burridge.”

“This is a precipitant exhumation in a highly inflammatory case,” the AUSA begins. “The evidence to which Miss Julian alludes has not been authenticated.”

“Yes it has,” you retort.

“It’s been authenticated by the Jeffersonian Institution,” Booth adds calmly.

“The FBI would like to do their own in-house analysis before proceeding,” AUSA Burridge argues.

“Of course they would,” Miss Julian says. “They’re the ones who did the framing thirty years ago.” You stifle a laugh.

“I take exception to that,” AUSA Burridge says.”

“Why?” Miss Julian asks, sass dripping from her voice. “You weren’t even born thirty years ago.”

“Judge—” AUSA Burridge tries, but Miss Julian continues.

“Not like me and Judge Kemper, who got to see first hand what Marvin Beckett was really like,” Miss Julian argues.

“Miss Julian,” the judge starts, and you frown at the tone he takes. “Did you bring this to me because I knew Marvin Beckett personally?”

“Did you?” Miss Julian says. “I wasn’t aware of that, Your Honor. Were you aware of that, Agent Booth?”

Booth shakes his head. “No. Agent Y/L/N?”

“Nope,” you tell them, struggling to hold back a smile.

AUSA Burridge sighs. “We’d like to do this slowly and carefully, Judge. That’s all.”

“And we want to exhume Gus Harper so we can make sure he was murdered in exactly the way the damn FBI said he was murdered, Your Honor,” Miss Julian says.

The judge sighs. “Sorry, Mr. Burridge,” he says. “I’m approving the exhumation.”

* * * * *

“Civil rights activist and convicted murderer Marvin Beckett was released today when a second autopsy of his alleged victim, FBI Agent Gus Harper, revealed inconsistencies with details of Mr. Beckett’s trial back in 1979,” the woman on the news reports as you, Booth, Brennan, Russ, and Father Coulter watch the TV in Booth’s office.

“What kind of inconsistencies?” Father Coulter asks.

“Oh, you know, you have your confidences to keep, Father, and I have mine,” Booth tells him.

“Well it’s- it’s over, right?” Brennan says. “I mean, now that it’s out, there’s no reason to kill Russ.”

You shrug, frowning. “That’s assuming the assholes behind this actually care about Marvin Beckett.”

“That’s right,” Booth says. “They care about being exposed.”

“Lucky you were together,” Brennan says, referring to the shot taken at Russ while he and Booth met at the diner hours ago. She frowns. “Why were you together?”

“Oh, you know,” Booth says, shrugging. “A man’s gotta eat.”

“To think that some people still refuse to believe in guardian angels,” Father Coulter says, patting Russ on the shoulder.

“Booth! Y/L/N!” A man stands outside of Booth’s office and points to the hallway, anger written all over his face. Booth immediately straightens his tie as you curse under your breath.

“Who’s that?” Russ asks.

“Deputy Director Kirby,” Booth says, tense. “Our boss’s boss’s boss.” You curse again and follow Booth out of his office to the conference room. You and Booth take a seat at the table as Deputy Director Kirby closes the door behind you.

“You guys are what’re known as real pains in my ass,” Kirby starts.

“Yes, sir,” Booth says. You bite the inside of your cheek nervously, saying nothing.

“I just had my testicles handed to me by the Attorney General of the United States of America,” Kirby continues. “He wanted to know why this Marvin Beckett issue wasn’t done slowly and carefully with greater forethought and tact. You know what I told him?”

“No, sir,” you say.

“I told him I did not know.”

“Sir, we had to do it the way we did because the FBI—“ Booth starts, but Kirby interrupts him.

“Not. Your. Decision,” Kirby says forcefully, leaning over Booth’s chair. “You’re both suspended without pay. Gun, ID, and security cards, please.”

You begin to grab your gun from your holster as Booth sighs quietly. “Sir, we’re entitled to the reading of the charges against us,” he says. You pause.

“The charges against you… are that I was pissed upon from a very great height!” Kirby raises his voice. “I want the two of you out of here in ten minutes.” You continue unholstering your gun and unload it, laying the clip and the gun on the table. You put your badge and ID next to them and stand up to follow Booth out of the room. He stops by his office to tell the others to meet you at the Jeffersonian. You take out your phone to call Hotch before you leave.

“Hotchner,” he says from the other line after two rings.

“So, funny story,” you begin nervously, hitting the button for the elevator. “I was, uh, just suspended without pay.”

“You were what?”

“You hear about Marvin Beckett?” you ask. Hotch gives a grunt of assent. “Well, that was us. And turns out that the Deputy Director didn’t like that we didn’t tell him.”

You hear Hotch sigh on the other line. “I assume you know how this plays out?” he asks.

You bite your lip. “Vaguely. I hadn’t seen this episode in a while, but I know Booth is reinstated by the end of it, so that bodes well for me, too, I would assume.”

Hotch sighs again. “I’ll see what I can do. Keep me posted.”

“Will do,” you tell him, ending the call.

* * * * *

Back at the Jeffersonian, the whole team is gathered around the exam table where Gus Harper’s body lies. “Can they even do that?” Dr. Brennan asks after you and Booth finish filling her in. “Just kick you out without any warning?”

“The two guys standing behind me with the guns seemed to think so,” Booth tells her. You nod.

“As you can see, Harper’s ribs and sternum were practically obliterated by the two shots to his torso,” Zack says.

Angela sighs. “Zack,” she says. “Booth and Y/L/N got fired.”

“Suspended, not fired,” Brennan corrects.

Cam shakes her head. “Suspended’s FBI talk for fired.”

“You know what hurts the most?” Booth says, sighing. “They took the car. I got no wheels.”

“The bullets themselves were removed from the body, of course,” Zack continues, “but Hodgins found some very small fragments.”

“Copper, lead, polymer.” Hodgins shakes his head, grinning. “I mean, this is a conspiracy, baby.”

“Guys,” Cam says sternly. “What we’re dealing with is that neither Booth nor Y/L/N will be working with us anymore.”

“Please,” you scoff. “You think this is gonna stop me from helping you out?”

Booth shrugs. “Well, I got my own gun. It’s just, God, why’d they have to take the company car?”

“I assume the only way Booth and Y/L/N can get their jobs back would be to solve the case on their own and that we’d help,” Zack states.

“No,” you say immediately, frowning.

“No, no, we can’t let you guys do that,” Booth agrees.

“You’d just be putting a target on your backs,” you argue.

Brennan shrugs. “Anyone that wants to help Booth and Y/L/N, raise their hands?” Everyone immediately raises a hand. You and Booth share a look, smiling.

“All right,” Zack says. “I reverse engineered to find the most likely design of the bullets.” He pulls up a simulation on the computer screen beside him. “After the bullet spread, lead pellets were released like buckshot.”

“Wait a second,” Booth says. “That’s a homemade round invented back in the 70s.”

“We’re talking a military-issue M-40 A-1 sniper rifle,” Hodgins adds.

Booth smiles, nodding. “Nice.”

“Dude,” Hodgins says, grinning. “What you call being a conspiracy theorist, I call being well-informed.”

“Wait,” Angela says. “Gus Harper was murdered by a military sniper?”

You nod. “It would appear so.”

“One who makes his own rounds,” Booth adds.

“Maybe we can compare it to the bullet that grazed Russ,” Brennan contemplates.

You frown. “We’re civilians now,” you remind her. “We don’t have access to that round.”

“Maybe Caroline can help us,” Booth suggests. He takes out his phone and dials. You hang back with Dr. Brennan while he talks on the phone until Brennan suddenly jumps up.

“I’ve got it!” she exclaims, running after Booth.

“Got what?” you ask, following her.

“I know how to get your jobs back!”

* * * * *

At the Seminary, Father Coulter greets you, Booth, and Brennan. “What can I do for you?”

“We need to get in touch with my father,” Brennan tells him.

Father Coulter frowns as you bite your tongue. “You weren’t able to find Max by tracing him through the cell phone call he made to me?”

Booth shakes his head. “Call came over the internet. It was untraceable.”

“Well, Max always, uh, did things his way,” Father Coulter says.

“Guess you being a priest didn’t have much of an effect on him,” Booth says.

Father Coulter turns to Booth. “Son, I spent my whole life trying to turn Max’s life to Jesus. He knows exactly one bible verse, Numbers 35:19.” He hands Booth his bible.

“‘The revenger of blood himself shall slay the murderer. When he meeteth him, he shall slay him,’” Booth reads.

You bite back a laugh. “Fitting.”

Brennan frowns. “What does that mean?”

“That’s the law of the jungle,” Booth tells her.

Brennan turns to Father Coulter. “Father Coulter, if my father makes contact with you again, please tell him he needs to trust me. His way got my mother murdered and almost got Russ killed. It’s time he tried my way.”

“He won’t contact me again,” Father Coulter says, shaking his head.

“Why not?” you ask.

“Ask him,” he says, gesturing to Booth. “He put me under surveillance.”

Booth cringes. “If a parish priest can figure out the FBI is watching him, so can an experienced fugitive like your father.”

* * * * *

Back at Brennan’s office, you and Booth are sitting on Brennan’s couch.

“Why are you mad at me?” Booth asks.

Brennan sighs. “I need a gun.”

“No, you don’t,” Booth says. “You got me. I’m your gun. You want equipment?” He reached into his pocket and extracts his handcuffs. “Here. Have these, all right? New division of labor. I shoot ‘em, you cuff ‘em.”

You let out a puff of laughter as Dr. Brennan frowns. “Why didn’t you tell me you had Father Coulter under surveillance?” she asks.

“It is my job to find your dad and put him in prison,” Booth says.

Dr. Brennan’s frown deepens. “And you don’t think I’ll help?”

“Wha— he’s your father, Bones,” Booth says. “I really don’t think I should have to ask you to help.”

“You could at least keep her in the loop with what’s going on,” you suggest.

Brennan nods. “I agree. He abandoned me, Booth, and that’s the best thing you can say about him.”

Booth shakes his head. “Your father lives by a certain code, and part of that code is defending his family by whatever means necessary.”

“You mean killing people and setting their corpses on fire?” Brennan gives Booth a look of incredulity.

Shrugging, Booth stands. “‘Any means necessary’ sort of covers that.”

“You respect him?”

“I’m just saying, in his world, he’s a very honorable man,” Booth responds with a sigh.

Dr. Brennan shakes her head. “That’s ridiculous!” she exclaims. “There’s only one world, it’s this one.”

“Would that be the one world where you’re mad at me for trying to catch your father, or the other world where you actually want him caught?” Booth retorts.

“Hey,” you chime in, a warning tone to your voice. “This is understandably complicated for her.”

“Yes,” Brennan says, nodding at you before turning back to Booth. “And neither.”

“Well you have to pick one,” Booth says.

“Either,” Dr. Brennan says as Booth scoffs. “Both.”

“Dr. Brennan, Agents Booth and Y/L/N!” You spin around to see Miss Julian enter the room, followed by an older man. “I thought you’d like to meet the reason we’re all losing our jobs and getting shot at.” She gestures to the man beside her. “This is Mr. Marvin Beckett.”

Mr. Beckett reaches a hand out to Dr. Brennan. “I wanted to thank you personally,” he says, proceeding to shake hands with the three of you one at a time.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Beckett,” Brennan tells him.

“Thirty years ago, crooked agents put me in jail for something I did not do,” Mr. Beckett starts. “I did not kill the young FBI agent. I did not steal the money. And I thank you for proving it to the world. That’s why I’m here to tell you to your face, to assure you, I did not do those things. You freed an innocent man, and in return, I must warn you, the people that did this to me aren’t just a bunch of corrupt cops.” You shift from one foot to the other and share a look with Booth as Mr. Beckett continues. “They serve masters of much greater influence. You’re looking to bring their world down around their ears.” He pauses. “They will strike at you. Watch yourselves.” With a nod, he turns and walks out of the room.

Miss Julian steps forward, taking a piece of paper out of the briefcase in her hand and handing it to you. “Here’s your list of snipers from the decade of disco.” She glances at Booth. “This time, I’m advising you— duck.”

While normally that would draw at least a chuckle from your lips, you’re too busy skimming the list of snipers. When you reach the name Robert Kirby, your stomach does a flip. “Fuck!”

“Anyone you know?” Brennan asks as you wordlessly hand the list to Booth, a pit forming deep in your stomach.

“Yeah,” he responds after a second. “The ATF rep on the task force was a marine sniper, Robert Kirby.”

“FBI Deputy Director Robert Kirby?” Dr. Brennan asks, shocked. She looks between the two of you. “That just suspended you?”

“Call your brother,” Booth tells her, taking control of the situation. “Tell him to get out of the house. Tell him to get out, now.”

Dr. Brennan yanks the phone on her desk from the receiver, immediately beginning to dial. “Why?” she asks. “What’s going on?”

“Seconds after Caroline got this list, Kirby knew about it,” Booth tells her.

Brennan shakes her head after a moment on the phone. “He’s not answering. I don’t understand, Booth.”

“Kirby’s not afraid of us,” you tell her.

“It’s your father,” Booth continues for you. “And the only way to strike at him is to go through you or Russ.”

“Deputy Director Kirby was the one who took a shot at your brother,” you finish.

Brennan shakes her head again, fear beginning to creep into her expression. “No answer.”

You turn, already beginning to run out of the room. “We need to get to Russ.”

* * * * *

At Dr. Brennan’s apartment, you and Booth draw your weapons before bursting through the door.

“Russ!” you call.

“Hello?” Brennan shouts.

Booth glances over his shoulder at Dr. Brennan. “All right, just stay back.”

“Russ?!” Brennan’s voice cracks with fear.

“No sign of a break-in,” you report.

Booth nods. “I’ll check the back.”

You call out Russ’ name again when Brennan gasps and reaches out a hand to stop you. “Oh my God,” she breathes.

You just almost stepped in a large pool of blood.

“Booth!” you call out, lifting your bloodied foot off the floor.

“What?” He comes back out of the bedroom. You gesture toward the floor.

“Russ,” Brennan whispers.

Booth frowns, concerned. “All right, just take it easy, okay? We don’t know that for sure.”

Brennan takes a step backward, breathing heavily. “That-that’s too much blood. Nobody could survive th-that much blood loss.” She shakes her head. “Nobody.”

Booth takes her into his arms as you stare at the blood, wracking your brains for any recollection of these events. “All right, okay,” he says softly. “It’s all right.”

“Russ doesn’t die,” you say, quietly at first before repeating yourself. “Dr. Brennan, I know for a fact Russ doesn’t die, I-I don’t think… it can’t be his blood.”

“Then whose blood is it?” Booth asks quietly. The two of you share a look of concern.

You take a breath, thinking of your next steps. “We can’t call this in,” you say. “We—” You’re cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. Retrieving it from your pocket, you see Garcia’s name as the caller ID. You contemplate sending it to voicemail, but then you realize the BAU must’ve been informed of your suspension and decide to answer. “Hey Garcia.”

“Y/N, my love, there’s a good reason why we were just told you were suspended indefinitely, right?” You can hear the distress in her voice. “Because I know you wouldn’t do something to cause that without a good reason, and I—”

“I can’t talk about it right now, Garcia,” you say apologetically. “I promise, I’ll fill you in as soon as I can, but right now I can’t talk to you or the team.”

“Y/N, I—”

“I promise, it will all make sense, but I have to go. One crisis at a time.” You feel bad dismissing her, but you know telling her anything more would put her at risk, too. “Sorry. I love you guys.”

“Wait!” Garcia says as you lower the phone from your ear. “I—”

You hang up on her with a wince, feeling bad. You turn your attention back to Booth and Brennan. “We should probably get out of here. I’m sure someone traced that call.”

* * * * *

Back in the car, you’re in the back seat while Booth drives, Dr. Brennan next to him. “It’s against the law,” she says, “us not calling in a murder.”

“It’s also against the law for the Deputy Director to try to assassinate your brother, but here we are,” you tell her.

“And it wasn’t a murder,” Booth says. “It was just a bloodstain.”

“That much blood?” Brennan glances back at you. “It’s murder.”

“We call it in, the next thing is we find ourselves under arrest,” Booth says.

“Which is exactly where we do not want to be if we have any chance at all of fixing this,” you add.

“That had to be Russ’ blood,” she says.

“It’s not, I promise,” you say quietly, but you know it won’t convince her.

“You got a sample, right?” Booth asks. “We’ll check the DNA at the lab. Until then, I mean, who’s the one who always says don’t jump to conclusions? Right?”

Brennan nods. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks.” She shakes her head. “I wish you wouldn’t keep letting me hug you when I get scared.” You chuckle.

“Hey, I get scared, I’ll hug you,” Booth tells her. “We’ll call it even.”

You smile.

* * * * *

After a little while at the lab, waiting for the results of the DNA test, Cam walks up to you and Booth.

“Well?” Booth asks.

“Blood’s not Russ,’” she says.

Booth shakes his head. “Even you can’t do a DNA test that fast.”

You frown. “Did you type the blood instead?”

Cam nods. “Both Brennan and her brother are O type blood, as was their mother.”

“Hey, me too!” you exclaim. “O positive for me.”

“So what, the blood isn’t type O?” Booth asks.

“The blood sample you brought me was AB,” Cam tells him, fixing his lapels.

Booth claps his hands together once. “Okay, let’s go tell Bones.”

Cam shakes her head. “I just saw her, she’s on her way out to see the priest.”

“Why?” Booth asks, frowning. “Did she say?”

Shrugging, Cam shakes her head. “Just that he said he had something for her.”

Booth turns with a frown and starts walking. “No, she can’t be going places without me, not when it’s open season on Brennans.” His phone rings, and he answers it. “Bones?” He pauses. “Okay, I’ll be there in a bit.” He hangs up and looks to you. “You go meet up with Bones and the priest,” he tells you. “Miss Julian has something, but I don’t want Bones out there alone.”

You nod. “Got it.” You’d like to have a word with ‘Father Coulter’ yourself, anyway.

* * * * *

After speeding through the streets, you manage to get there at the same time as Brennan. “Dr. Brennan!” you call out, getting out of your car as she’s walking up the stairs.

She turns around, frowning. “What are you doing here?”

You shrug. “Booth didn’t want you to be alone,” you explain. “He would’ve come himself, but Miss Julian had something to tell him.” You follow her to the door, where Father Coulter is waiting for her, apparently having already noticed her arrival.

“Good to see you again,” he says to you both, nodding at you before turning to Brennan. “Well, first, I want to tell you that your brother is, uh, with his father.”

Brennan frowns, looking stricken. “You mean… with God?” she asks.

You shake your head. “Cam tested the blood, and it wasn’t a match for Russ’ blood type.”

Father Coulter nods. “I mean his earthly father— your father.”

“Are you certain?” she asks.

“I saw it with my own eyes,” Father Coulter tells her, and you resist the urge to scoff, wanting to yell at him to just tell her already, but you swallow the words.

Brennan smiles. “Oh, thank God.” She frowns again. “Which I use only as a figure of speech.”

Father Coulter shrugs. “Well, you have to start somewhere.” He leads the two of you off to the side of the building. “You know, you’re very much like him.”

“I’m… I’m nothing like my father,” Brennan says, raising an eyebrow.

“Black and white. The two of you, you always saw the world in black and white,” Father Coulter tells her. “Your mother wasn’t like that. Neither is Russell.”

Brennan stops in her tracks as Father Coulter walks on. She glances at you, and you can see the gears turning in her head. You give her a tentative nod, and she catches up with Father Coulter, who doesn’t seem to have noticed the two of you lagging behind.

“Your father, he talked about, uh, when you were four and your brother was nine, and he hid behind this door and he jumped out at you.” Father Coulter grabs Brennan’s arm gently. “‘Boo!’ He hollers ‘Boo!’ And you— you had this doll. Had this string in the back for talking—”

“Chatty Cathy,” Brennan says quietly, with a slow nod.

Father Coulter nods. “You wound up and you hit your brother so hard you knocked him flat as a pancake. I said to your mother, ‘No one will ever jump out at that girl again.’ And your mother said, ‘Just like you, Max. She’s just like you.’”

You sigh. “About time you told her,” you mutter.

Brennan stares at him. “Hair color, plastic surgery, colored contact lenses, chin and cheek implants, fifteen years older.” She shakes her head, sitting down on the bench next to her father, Max Keenan. “Still, I should’ve seen it.”

You shrug. “I’m just surprised you didn’t recognize his voice,” you tell her.

Max frowns. “How did you know it was me before she did?” he asks you, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“That,” you tell him, “is actually classified, believe it or not.”

“She’s right, it is,” Brennan tells him. “But you can trust her.”

You nod while Max stares you down. “Your daughter is the closest thing I have to family,” you tell him solemnly. “I’d protect her with my life if I had to, and I’m pretty sure she would do the same for me.”

“I would,” Brennan tells her father, sparing a glance at you. “And I agree, Agent Y/L/N is one of the few people I call family these days.” You don’t miss the implication that Max isn’t one of those people.

After a minute, Max nods at you. “I’m glad she has someone so loyal to her.”

“Anyway, Russ knew it was you all along?” Brennan asks.

Max nods. “Yeah.”

Brennan looks away, conflicted. “You talk to Russ, but not to me?”

Max sighs. “You know, to tell you the truth, you do better without me and Russ does worse.” He turns to her and hands her his bible. “Take this.”

Brennan shakes her head. “I’m not religious.”

“No,” Max agrees. “We’re going to play this your way.” He shakes the bible at her. “Please.”

Brennan gingerly takes the bible and flips through it, stopping when she realizes notebook paper is hidden between the pages. She takes it out and skims it before handing over to you to peruse.

“This… this is Gus Harper’s journal,” you realize.

“And this.” Brennan holds up a key.

“That’s to a safety deposit box,” Max tells her. “In that safety deposit box is all the evidence.”

“Why didn’t you give it to them back in 1978?” Dr. Brennan asks.

“Because your mother took one look at it and told me ‘If you turn this over to them, they will kill us and our kids.’”

Brennan nods, swallowing. “They got Mom anyway.”

“And there’s not a day that goes by that my heart is not broken,” Max tells her.

Tires screech behind you. “Gonna have to wrap this up quickly,” you tell them.

A black pickup truck pulls up, Russ at the wheel. “Dad! Come on!”

Max stands. “I gotta go.”

Brennan pulls him in for a hug, and you slip her your handcuffs discretely. “I can’t let you go,” she tells him.

“Oh, I love you too,” Max tells her.

“No,” Dr. Brennan says, shaking her head. “I mean, I can’t let you go.” She kicks his knee and drops him to the ground.

Max grunts. “Oh, I must be getting old. I let you get the drop on me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Brennan takes out the cuffs. “I just can’t let you get away.”

Max maneuvers the cuffs to her wrist, instead, locking the other side to the bench. He looks at you wearily. “Do I need to worry about you, too?”

You shake your head, hands raised haphazardly in the air. “I’m not interfering.”

“Y/L/N!” Brennan protests.

“You’ll thank me later,” you tell her with a wink.

“I’m sorry,” Max says to his daughter. “I really am. Listen to me, though— if you find somebody that you can trust, you hand on to them. Remember that.”

“Dad, let’s go!” Russ yells.

“I’m proud of you.” Max kisses Brennan’s head. “I love you.”

“Y/L/N, do something!” she pleads. “You have an obligation as an FBI agent!”

You laugh. “Suspended, remember?”

As Max goes to get in the truck, Booth screeches up to the scene in what appears to be Miss Julian’s car, jumping out and staring at Max and Russ, realizing who Max is. Max glances between you and Booth. “You two take care of her.”

Booth draws his gun. “FBI. Stop or I’ll shoot.”

“Booth!” you and Brennan shout together.

“Leave it!” you tell him.

“Booth,” Brennan pleads again.

Booth looks at Brennan and slowly lowers his gun. He runs over to you and Brennan as you lean down to unlock Brennan’s cuffs. “You okay?” he asks her quietly. She nods.

Russ backs into Miss Julian’s car, causing the alarm to go off. Booth cringes. “Ah, shit.”

Russ and Max peel away, leaving the three of you alone.

Booth sighs. “Did he really have to hit the car?” he complains. “I wasn’t gonna chase him!”

“She’s gonna kill you,” you tell him, smirking.

“I know, I know.” He looks to Dr. Brennan. “You okay?”

She nods, then shakes her head. You put a hand on her shoulder as she leans into Booth, closing her eyes.

* * * * *

Later that week, you and Booth are reinstated after Brennan brings the evidence to light, and Deputy Director Kirby is found burned on the top of a building, a very familiar coin shoved into his mouth.

NOTE: Sorry about the shitty, rushed ending. I just wanted to get it out because I felt you guys deserved an update after so long. I might go back and edit it later, but I'll let you know if I do. Also, that story about Y/N's dad blowing up a lake and the air mattress thing? Yep, my dad did that lmao.

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adhdandelion · 7 months ago

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Ritalin, Day 0

Okay, so, I HAVE to revive this blog. Because it is happening. I bit the bullet, basically - four years after getting diagnosed with ADHD, I finally got a prescription for ritalin.

It took so long because the last psychiatrist I went to was an ass. Who only prescribed me Strattera without trying ritalin first, and Strattera didn't work for me and I TOLD HIM and he didn't listen to me and FOR MONTHS things only got worse and worse for me until I flipped my shit and swore to never go to a psychiatrist again.

But now I did, only after getting a recommendation by someone on tumblr who swore that her Psychiatrist was absolutely wonderful. Hella expensive of course. but I have a job and not that many great expenses, so whatever.

I visited her last week, on wednesday, I was so freaking nervous and honestly I barely even had any real hope that she would listen to me. But she did, she was incredibly kind, and she prescried me ritalin, no trouble at all.

But, I had to get an EKG and a blood test. I spent half a day calling around for a cardiologist, no one had an opening before the follow up with the psychiatrist. so close to the finish line and still everything was a hassle. Finally, the last doctor i found on the internet, with a horrendous review rating, would to the test on monday. another 250€ spent but hey. anything for the good drugs.

And that doc wouldn't do the blood test so I went to another place for that, at least it is fairly easy to get an appointment for a quick blood test. And the blood test was free, yay!

So now I have the results, the EKG and heart echo thing was perfecty fine, and the blood test seems ok, too, from what I can tell. Two things are ever-so-slightly out of range, but I doubt that should be a problem.

I emailed the results to the doc yesterday, late night. and since this morning i am freaking tf out because I haven't heard back - I know she's busy and all, but i want to finally knowwwwwww if ritalin works i want to know if it makes life so much lighter for me, like so many other people have said. I have waited for so so so long and now every minute feels like TORTURE AAAAAHHHHHHH i just want to finally know

Since she wrote the script last week already, and I already got the ritalin from the pharmacy, I already have it at home. And it is taking every fibre of my being to not just take the drugs. I want to be a good patient and wait for her true OK but i am not a patient patient.

Making an adhd patient wait is... approximately the worst hell imaginable.

It is now past noon and I have gotten literally nothing done for work. I am working from home today... or rather not working lmao. It would be great if I could take the ritalin and it would just kick me into gear so that I can actually get at least anything done. I called her office at noon but she didn't get to it yet. My brain can't form a thought not related to adhd or ritalin etc, i am a vibrating ball of anxiety, fear, excitement, worry that it won't work after all, feeling kinda nauseous from it all even before taking the meds, and most of all IMPATIENCE i HATE waiting it is the SINGLE WORST THING in the entire world (i am an adult who almost had a meltdown in public while waiting in a queue for an ice cream cone and i had to run away from the queue without getting ice cream even after waiting for several minutes because i would have started crying like a toddler if i had had to wait a second longer - i am not good at waiting, okay)

AAARGHHGHGHGHHG this is TORTURE

#adhd #ritalin #medication #adhd meds #kats meds

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limbus-limousine · 9 months ago

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OK ACTUALLY NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS. I THINK ITS SO IMPORTANT.

There are so many people who don't seem to understand that a diagnosis IS a privilege. The argument about the financial costs of therapy, psychology etc IS very valid and important. But it's not the only thing.

You guys have NO idea how fucking miserable the state of mental health education is in some places. I talk from personal experience. Depending on where you live getting a diagnosis can be so insanely exhausting, it's unreal. It doesn't have to be a "third world country" either. For context I'm from Spain.

I've had "professionals" spewing information that could be debunked with a quick Google search. Half of them use outdated information(I can't count how many times I've heard these people using the term Asperger's as an actual diagnosis). They use diagnosis criterias that are extremely outdated.

If you have anything that's not stereotypical, or you manifest your symptoms in a uncommon way, or you learnt to mask from a very early age, you're fucked. I've lost count of how many people I've seen, but it's double digits and going up. From all those professionals, (only counting the ones who didn't flat out refuse to allow me to take tests, mind you) not a single one of them has given me the same diagnosis. I've been misdiagnosed with depression. I've been told I'm just gifted. Someone told me I have ADHD. Another one told me I'm autistic but definitely not ADHD. Another one said I'm not autistic at all. Others said that I just have "traits". Some said that I have Asperger's, which isn't even a valid term anymore. I just know that I have an anxiety disorder.

It is really really tiring to go through all of these appointments. Sometimes you know that this is just going to be another cash grab. Sometimes you know the doctor is trying to beat around the bush in order to avoid admitting they have no idea what they're dealing with, you're still gonna have to pay them anyways, what would you know? You're the patient. Sometimes you think you did kind of alright in social security and then they give you the next appointment and it turns out you'll have to wait for 7 months and it won't even be the same doctor.

At some point you just get tired of trying. Sometimes it's not only a cash grab, but also hurtful. I've had a doctor tell me that it was "weird" that I had never been sexually involved with anyone OR wanted to be while I was a minor. I tried guiding some therapists in my diagnosis because I don't want to start over everytime I see a new one, and they spent the entire session trying to convince me that I was "normal". I went to see a guy I was directed to by a hospital w very good reputation and it was only 3 minutes until he told me that he had no idea how to treat me and that I should get someone else.

It took me 4 years to get medicated and I can't even see the doctor who prescribed my meds anymore because his services are private and I only knew him through a friend's contact. My own personal doctors tried to get me off meds despite the overwhelmingly positive effects they had on me, with no explanation. They delayed my prescriptions several times.

Do I have a definite diagnosis? No. Not really. But I can deduce shit. These people are not experienced. There just aren't enough candidates who gaf about this field. I just. Gave up after getting meds. I'll self diagnose before I go back to the same bullshit I had to circle around for years. I think this depends on what you really consider to be a self diagnosis but I'd say I'm in a weird spot. I've had people violently deny diagnoses that others said were obviously valid. They were both listed as professionals in the field, so what do I believe? At that point you believe what feels right. As long as you don't use self diagnosis to flaunt on the internet, it's harmless. It's helpful. It's necessary. It is really comforting when you feel like you're lost and the people who are meant to help you don't even want to listen.

It's ok to not want to bother if you've had bad experiences too. Personally I'm letting this rest. The whole hereditary neurodivergency thing has me tired. Unfortunately I can't fully stop giving a fuck because I do need psychiatrists and therapists. When you deal with shitty specialists in this field you start to realize that they can only do simple diagnoses. As I started fixing my own shit with the little guidance I had I realized I have tons of other issues just... Entwined with everything. They can't seem to get that? And look, I'm not blaming them for not being able to read my mind, I'm blaming them for marketing themselves as something that they aren't. Some of these doctors aren't well versed in neurodivergency at all. I'm dead serious like. It feels like they were trained on big bang theory to diagnose autism and expect everything else to just be comforting some kid after a break-up. If you got anything else that isn't stereotypical or super classic get ready to waste your money meaninglessly or drown in your own misery, how fun isn't it?

It can be really disheartening, as I've said. I've started realizing that I have other problems that are trauma related, I just tried to use the other issues as a escapegoat because they were not as hurtful to accept. And because whenever I mentioned anything during sessions it got brushed off lmfao. I know I won't be fully content with the help I receive, at least not in a very long time. Right now I'm just hoping that a diagnosis related to trauma rather than a hereditary nd will be easier for me, and hopefully get some leads on a possible c-ptsd 🥲

Anyways please, if you have actual concerns about your mental health inform yourself. Don't believe anything you see on social media without doing your own research before. Don't believe everything your doctor tells you if it feels wrong. They aren't always right. It takes time and introspection, you are not ableist or an attention seeker for self diagnosing.

Please take care

Reblog this post if you are professionally diagnosed and you support informed self diagnosis and you hate people accusing others of faking disorders when they have no evidence to support that

#sorry supeeeer long post #this subject gets my blood boiling whenever its mentioned i had to get this out of my system #rambling #limo talks #mental health

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scentedcutlery · 1 month ago

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it's 08:00. I hate being awake at this time and in an ideal world i'd go to bed at 04:00 and wake up at 12:00.

I'm at the doctor's cause i need help. The only way to get to an adhd diagnosis and get meds without paying >500€ is to get a magic code from the doctor, or so i've heard. On my way here i hear several people with a super wet cough in public transport and no one is wearing a mask.

I couldn't sleep too well tonight because i knew i wasn't gonna have the energy for this at all – i haven't had the energy since 2020 – and i was gonna have to force myself. Again.

Theoretically they should open at 08:00. I'm there at 08:01, i don't want to wait for too long cause i feel miserable.

There's already 15 people here.

I go to the waiting room. The walls are completely white, all the seats against them. The light is so bright that my eyes hurt and there's a desk in the middle with three baby chairs and magazines i've never seen anyone ever touch in the hours i've waited here before. The cars roll by the busy street outside and i hate their loud noise.

There's a TV this time. It intersperses little notices from the Praxis with pictures of nature.

There's a picture of a mushroom.

I'm wrought to get out of the bed every day knowing i don't have the energy for anything, knowing i'll need to force myself to do the minimum because if that ball starts to roll then i'm going back to my home country and that's suicide for me. I've been suing my insurance for two years so they pay for the electrolysis of my facial hair, something that bothers and depresses me literally everyday. I cannot find a therapist that the insurance covers and the psychiatrist i have _could_ give me an adhd diagnosis, which has the potential to change everything, but the needed 5 sessions would be spread around months because her capacity is really low. I'm constantly reminded that people with a private insurance get quicker appointments and even get more shit covered than my public insurance. This system is wringing me until every drop of blood has left me and i'm just a walking husk and i don't know how much i have left in me.

And the best i get is a picture of a mushroom on the tv.

The picture changes. It's now a video of a river flowing.

It's interpolated

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show-us-kaidenshenandoah · 4 months ago

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one of the things about having (reluctantly. very, very reluctantly) gotten gradually more used to seeing doctors regularly (a... a lot more regularly. ugh) is learning new tips from other, (oftentimes more experienced, but even newbies can come up with some really innovated ideas) spoonies. and a common one that's advised to practice making into a habit is:

"hey, when shit gets bad? write it in your calendar so you can tell your doctor (and then also take a minute to write down recent events (like i was super fatigued and light-headed yesterday; so i rested all day and therefore know i should note i didn't over-exert yesterday. by writing that down, my doctor knows Today's Bullshit wasn't likely "a consequence of Whatever I Did The Day Before") and also to jot down recent life-changes like, uh, my new ADHD meds, i started those yesterday. so im writing it down. even tho i doubt the my switch from regular Adderal (wasn't working on me, at all) into Adderal-XR-or-whatever-letters-are-at-the-end-of-it caused knee-muscle inflammation that makes it SO MUCH HARDER TO WALK WTF. it's more likely the pill-change caused yesterday's nonsense with being sick and light-headed. but idk health shit, thats my doctors job) and know the exact dates of it all to better help your doctor do their job in helping you out"

but it's not all bad! its kinda nice to get to do lil spiteful thingy about it. thats nice

it's like i get to momentarily do the iconic "just wait until mom the doctor sees this! *blows raspberry at you and runs away with the evidence that'll get you in trouble*" sneer, like im an A+ representative of that specific "antagonistic sibling throughout the 70s - 90s' campy movies" trope lmao ♡

#me #my random life tips #my chronic health #fun fact: i made this post yesterday (obviously) and forgot to actually. yknow. POST IT before i KOed for the night. so. whoopsies lol

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neondreamsicle · 5 months ago

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I've been keeping it to myself because this should be old hat by now. Prepare your mental health bunghole...lots of bullshit under the cut.

So. The silent rage of my depression. Bipolar depression too, which makes it EXTRA fun. Because obviously bouncing rapidly between moods (and i do mean i can swing between extremes up to a FUCKING DOZEN TIMES A DAY in a particularly bad spat) is fabulous. I also have to deal with ptsd (also severe), adhd (also also severe), paranoia, audio hallucinations, chronic insomnia AND sleeping too much somehow at the same time, no sense of my identity, no connection between my mind and body, stress from all of this so severe (that word again!) my body is viciously attacking itself and i fear one of my panic attacks will turn into a real heart event and i will simply....not be here anymore.

I've dealt with this since i was a small child. I can remember feeling like this as a fucking toddler. Though i didn't have the words to describe it at the time. I probably learned how to read and write at the age of 3 just so i could get out of my own head as soon as possible. It's my only escape really. Reading and writing. And crochet.

And for some reason, the last 2 or 3 weeks especially...i've never felt all of this hit me at once so intensely. I actually contracted extremely bad flu symptoms, including hot hot fever!, for an entire week. I could not walk, my skin was on fire (i could barely be touched without screaming), could not get warm, though my husband told me i was hotter than a furnace. No appetite, migraine, raving dizziness. Not just the whole 9 yards, but an entire football field.

And that was just one incident. Last week, my body again gave out and started having episodes of bad tremors or seizures right along with my new and improved panic attacks.

I can't even call this crisis mode anymore. Or survival mode. The only reason i'm still alive right now is solely because of my husband. He has been an absolute patient fucking angel with me through all of this. I know that man loves me unconditionally because in the course of all this hilarity, i revealed a secret i have never told anyone in my entire life...it was unearthed from my buried childhood memories just all of a sudden like and it sent me into a screaming panic. I was so hysterical that hubs didn't catch any of what i said at that time, but he immediately grabbed me into his arms and held me so tight like i was gonna shatter and he was holding me together. He held me until i stopped sobbing. And then he put me to bed and held me until i fell asleep.

One good thing came from that. He talked to me about it the next morning. Or rather he asked a question, and i was silent for awhile before talking for a long time. Like...an hour or so of me just releasing all the fucking poison i had been subconsciously holding onto for 4 fucking decades.

I still feel all the bullshit i've mentioned previously. But there is now an oddly emptier space inside my soul. Like there was a giant malignant tumor... and now there's not.

Now the kicker: Back in august '23, i knew something was wronger than usual. I was feeling extremely burnt out, which should have set off my alarm bells sooner, but i thought it was just my job, so i quit. And i felt relief a bit, but then it gradually got worse until i got here.

In September, i asked 3 different doctors for a psych referral. I even tried to reach out to therapists offices on my own. I'm still waiting to hear back from literally anybody.

I have been struggling so hard with myself to get out of this hole or at least mask sufficiently so no one would suspect and i guess i fooled everyone but my husband, who had a front row seat to my insanity.

And i finally admitted to him not that long ago that i was sincerely planning my suicide. But since my body seems to be cycling down anyway...i could just wait for that.

I'm on meds for this shit. And i swear i have tried everything on the market to help alleviate this over the years. Nothing touches it. Nothing can dispel this darkness that seems to just be inherent in me. Without a therapist that won't retraumatize me (happened multiple times in the past).... what the fuck is there left to do? I don't wanna live like this. Having a normal moment and then all of a sudden there's blood on the walls and screams so full of anguish, i can't even listen to myself.

I'm at a total and complete loss. Hubs is super supportive and i love him fiercely for that, but i still feel like so much of a burden. I feel like i bamboozled him, not warning him that i have these episodes. And it's so much worse because this is my worst episode of my entire life considering all my malfunctions came together at once and flared up like a bursting hemorrhoid on satan's ass.

I might just call a random therapist and demand an emergency appointment. I can't do this for much longer without kicking someone in the balls at the extreme lack of help from goddamn professionals.

#mental health #trigger warning #💀#severe symptoms

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infernal-house-demon · 5 months ago

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I have been writing nearly every day without fail. Since starting my current wip in February, I have written two instalments in what will be a four (or potentially five) book series. The word count of those two books is a little more than the whole hunger games trilogy combined.

People keep asking me how I am doing this. I truly don’t know. I think it’s a bunch of things converging together?

Tldr: emerge from years long burnout, be autistic with storytelling special interest, get medicated for your adhd, take care of yourself— oh, and actual writing advice like build a routine, engage critically with other media, don’t be your own worst critic until you reach the editing stage, write something you genuinely like, and you don’t have to have it figured out from the top. Writing is literally just making shit up and making more shit up to justify it. Now go write my beautiful darlings!

Writing regularly. Getting in the habit of doing it makes it easier to start every time. I’ve been lucky to have a lot of time on my hands recently so I’ve been able to get a lot accomplished.

Not giving a shit if it’s good. I don’t mean write garbage. You should still like and enjoy it. But don’t agonize over every detail. If you can’t think of how to describe something perfectly, do what you can and move on. Writing is for getting the ideas down. Editing is for polish. Make something you like but don’t pressure yourself to make it perfect. (If it makes you feel better, my editor pointed out I completely forgot to describe several of the main characters. Sometimes when you write a scene it’s just dialogue and vibes. You’ll fix it later.)

If you try to build out every detail of the world before you start, you’ll never start. Get place names and important details and customs down, then make shit up as you go along. Remember of course that you will then have to write within the confines of that shit, but don’t worry, you can always make changes! That’s the beauty of editing. (Editor me is so bad for the amount of work I give them, but that’s their job so 🤷🏻)

If you have a really clear idea of a scene, write it immediately! For the most part, I do like to write linearly, but if I have ideas for scenes or snippets of dialogue, I will write them all down right away. Then you’re not slogging through anything just to get to that scene you really want to write. This is especially helpful if you’re writing a series and the scene is very far away. Write it now.

Have a cutting room floor document! I can’t tell you how many times I had to cut things that didn't serve the plot in the moment only for them to fit perfectly into future instalments! It hurts to cut stuff you feel is really good, so keep it! You might use it later!

The rest of these are about to get very specific to me but they are what is genuinely part of what has helped

Take a big long break from your creative hobbies. After i graduated uni, i was thoroughly burnt out. I stopped painting, I didn't write often (only the occasional fic bc it was easier on my brain). I will say writing fanfic was a big help because it gave me an idea of the character dynamics, themes, and plot points I most enjoyed writing. Then I translated all of that into my current wip. But the point of this is not to push yourself if you feel burnt out. Take what opportunities you can to rest and leave your hobbies behind for a while if that's what you need. They will be there waiting for you. I spent a solid year and a half doing almost nothing. Most of my creative energy went into digital art, and even then i wasn't creating frequently. It's okay. You need the rest.

Get medicated for adhd. Obviously this is very me-specific but I realized I had undiagnosed adhd. I had actually been given meds to try in the past but the side effects were too strong. Finally, i went back to my doctor and he helped me figure out a new one to try plus dosage and all that (I know I'm lucky that i have a good doc). The one I'm on now gives me minimal side effects and really helps my motivation and energy.

Take care of your body first. Before I could emerge from burnout and get my super creativity boost I put in a lot of work on my health. I have chronic pain, so learning what helped and what didn't has been really important. Things like fixing my sleep schedule, making sure to eat regularly, listening to my body's needs were all things I had to do before I could get into a space where I felt up to creating. (I am still working on this one. It isn't easy and I am in pain every day. Sometimes that means no writing and that's fine. Wellbeing comes first.)

Be autistic and have storytelling be your special interest. Idk what to tell you about this one. I am autistic and I have always been fascinated by creating stories, why we tell stories, the stories that have lasting impact in our lives, etc. I did my undergrad in English and my upcoming masters program is in Anthropology where i plan to write my thesis on mythology. So, uh, get yourself an autistic special interest and let it fuel your writing.

Okay that was gonna be the last one but I just remembered a really important one. CONSUME OTHER MEDIA! A lot of people will tell you to read in order to write better, and that's 100% true. But like I said, I was in burnout after I graduated, and having read so much in my English degree, I did not want to look at another book ever again. I read maybe like 3 books in the last two years (it was the Lord of the Rings Trilogy which I have already read and I was in lotr hyperfixation mode). But engaging critically with any media will help you improve your own skills. Read a book, read some poetry, watch a show your friend recommended, listen to a podcast on a topic that interests you, listen to an audiobook, whatever! Then think about it and ask yourself what works and what doesn't. Then ask yourself why it does or doesn't work. Is it just a matter of preference? Or is it the word choice, the rhythm of the punctuation, the structure, the character arcs and voices. I have read a lot of poetry in the last couple years bc it tends to be shorter and gives my brain that quick hit my adhd loves. And I promise you it not only made me a better poet, but also helped my description in prose.

Anyway, that's all I can think of for now. I'd love to do another post about my inspirations/recommendations of media. But I'll do that later. I hope this is vaguely helpful to anyone, and if not, oh well! I had fun coming up with it.

#writing #my writing #writing advice #rambles #writers on tumblr

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ichthysgospel · 8 months ago

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re ur tags fucking hell that sucks im so sorry. i shouldn't have assumed that was snarky, the notes on this post have been full of people being like WELL I SAW A DOCTOR ONE TIME AND IT DIDNT HELP! GOTCHA! so i kinda jumped to conclusions which was shitty & im sorry. i wish i had good advice for finding good doctors i literally just kept going to different ones until someone listened and giving the finger to the ones that didnt. to be fair when i got my ptsd dx i hadnt slept in a week (to avoid nightmares) and was tripping absolute balls (because apparently lack of sleep = hallucinations) so it was sort of. painfully in-your-face obvious what was going on. the doctor i was seeing before that told me i should just try to be more positive. and then refused to refill my meds unless i scheduled a pap smear. the guy before that was willing to prescribe meds but he didnt bother to look at my history and ordered meds that were straight up contraindicated for me. my most recent psychiatrist refused to prescribe anything for adhd because he thought i was ??? following a trend or something??? idk i have a good team now but it took like a decade and a lot of assholes along the way. i guess im saying hang in there/keep fighting to find a good one? and also sorry for being an ass.

aw this is actually so sweet thank you :( I'm not mad at you at all I genuine just kinda. forgot (?) doctors actually have a job besides taking your money and telling you to wait it out. I think I'm finally starting to get lucky with the doctors I have now I really appreciate the encouragement :)

#no bcus what the FUCK they just pushed me up to 80mg of prozac like two months ago #AND MY PHARMACY REFUSED TO REFILL IT FOR THIS MONTH 😭😭#i asked them to transfer the prescription to another nearby pharmacy and they just straight up didnt do that #they're also withholding my testosterone im about to go feral and bite somebody #But !! besides that I'm finally getting treatment for excessive internal scar tissue !!#which means the organ failure and endometriosis wont have me dead on the floor every time i forget to take iron #also WHAT. they didnt give you meds unless you got a PAP SMEAR?? HELLO??#I'd be bawling in your situation man I'm so scared of anything remotely related to pelvic exams #asks #once again saying I really appreciate both the apology and the encouragement it means a lot :) your point on that post still stands tho #both points co-exist. you absolutely should not be feeling miserable and doctors brushing it off does NOT mean that its ok!!#With how expensive it is just for a single doctors visit its so incredibly irresponsible to deny treatment #But even if you cant afford that its still important to br aware of your health and know whats good for you and what isnt #my gospel

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ancient-reverie · 8 months ago

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people don't seem to grasp how much stress I'm under so here's a list so I can show it to them:

Cat that has asthma needs a pill every other day. occasionally needs an inhaler at night.

Cat that has kidney disease and had a seizure Friday night.

rabbit with permanent head tilt and balance issues with an eye issue prone to uti's that takes daily medication

rabbit that suddenly started having stomach problems tonight out of the blue. rare but happens and then i have to syringe feed her every four hours until she's eating on her own again

I'm the only one on top of flea meds and vet check ups for the entire house ( 6 cats, 2 dogs, 2 rabbits)

I need to double check my dentist appointment is on the 10th and if not schedule one (I am bad at this, talking to people is hard and I have anxiety attacks on the phone. the only way to really know is via phone call)

made an appointment for an hrt related checkup which is easy but I now have to decide if I want to tell them if I wanna continue hrt or go off it (the reasons are unrelated to my gender identity)

waiting for said Dr from said gender clinic to approve refill on said hrt because I'm out. because they charged me full price but only gave me half of my refill last time.

need to move furniture in my room and clean before it makes me and the kids sick. there's rabbit pee soaked into the floor under a cat tree and under a cabinet and I just haven't been able to clean it.

also need to rearrange to give my rabbits areas more conducive to their and my existence

and to make space so my cats feel more included

feeling guilt that my oldest cat with kidney disease is dying and I haven't spent time with her like I want to because of my two other cats and her not getting along. but she's dying so what do I do

she dying what do I do? I don't want her to die in a vet office. I want her to be able to be asleep on a bed in the house and I don't know how to do that vets don't make house calls anymore

nicotine addiction

gotta give all my kids the love and affection they deserve bc any of them could get into something or have a sudden health problem and die at any moment

no one to talk to about it

have to clean my room. have to take dishes down before they grow mold. some of them I'm sure already are. this is a common occurrence.

need to do laundry. have no more clean sheets.

think the cat peed on the foot of the bed. haven't been able to really check. just keep ignoring it. it's not by my face and the cat still lays in that corner. (cat box in room makes me nose blind to cat pee a lot of the time and)

cats pee in random places of room and on their scratchers. regularly smelling cat pee in specific spots around room. sometimes it is just a hallucination.

no one can stand to listen to me list everything I have going on.

closet needs to be cleaned and sorted. things to give away and go into storage need to be hauled downstairs. (i am weak and physically not good but no one is able to help)

fish tank got a water change recently but I fear it won't last longer than a week and I'll need to take everything out and deep clean which takes me 4 ish hours bc I'm slow and it hurts

trying to find meaning and purpose in life. is art the career path I want or just a hobby? should I be writing? should I be making friends?

can't leave the house without having anxiety attacks.

not seen as myself by those around me (family) just as a conglomerate of actions. not seen for my actions and struggles by the people around me (family)

intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts intru-

oh I was loading a bowl- *distracted for 15 mins* oh right I was loading a bowl- *distracted for 15 mins* fuck I'm loading a bowl *loads bowl* *distracted for 15 mins* *takes hit* *distracted for 15* *takes a hit* *distracted for 15* ADHD having ass

dissociation derealization depersonalization dissociate derealize depersonalize dddddddddddddd error

someone inside my head actually screaming and tearing at their skin with their claws

someone inside my head deciding to verbally and emotionally and physically abuse someone else in the system

someone doing drugs in the mindspace and all the issues that come with it

someone having flashbacks after being triggered

friends aren't going to text me. I keep my phone on silent. it's been silent since the beginning of the year. it's currently april. I'm used to it being silent now. it hasn't caused me to miss anything.

I have no one to talk to and therapy isn't what I crave. therapy is a fake version of what I need. I need someone to want to listen to me without being paid to do so

who has time to eat in this action economy

want to finish my games. want to finish bg3 before everyone else. before it gets spoiled. want to finish stray. want to finish doom. want to start doom eternal

want to be into vrchat more and work on my anxiety

want to finish at least the two books on my desk

who has the energy to shower and brush their teeth everyday? not this bag of bastards.

want to trim my hair. want my friends to see my long hair though

need to finish two paintings for two besties. one I don't know if I wanna continue it or start over (again for the fifth time). and one I haven't even decided on the pose for but tried to start.

one of the alters needs glasses but as you can see we are better off being in denial until we really genuinely need glasses because there's more pressing issues

relationships with family members is all we have but it is bad and idk if the family members have any idea. I think they think it's fine and have no idea that I really don't get along with them and living with them is killing me but I can't move out

gotta hide the self harm ! which is second nature to me but still a stressor

I'm not gonna buy cigarettes I have a tank mod and a small vape with replaceable pods. I'm not gonna buy cigarettes I have a tank mod and a small vape with replaceable pods. I'm not gonna buy cigarettes I have a tank mod and a small vape with replaceable pods. I'm not gonna buy cigarettes I have a tank mod and a small vape with replaceable pods.

I need a new ps4 controller so I can use my expensive console taking up room on my desk and all the games I paid for and spent hours downloading

I just wanna buy new sex toys but I don't need them and we just laid off all the credit cards and I don't have money to blow on needed things. I donated to a lot of people this year instead

it's getting hotter and I'm going to have to run my AC constantly soon but it has black mold growing in it. and you don't have to be allergic for that to be an issue but I do happen to be allergic and one of my cats has asthma. and idk how to clean take it apart, let alone do it by myself but it looks like that's gonna be what happens.

trash and recycling needs to be taken out before I go back to throwing everything on the floor like I was doing for a little bit bc it's all too much

need to pick up the mess siruss made from tearing up semi important lists we need in a fit of stress and being overwhelmed

remember to put the night guard in before laying down so you don't crush your teeth in your sleep and have to get a 3rd (4th?) crown where your molars are supposed to be

can't even be addicted to weed in so goddamn stresses but watch out! forgetting to smoke is forgetting meds and the IBS, acid reflux, ADHD, chronic full body pain, chronic specific body pain, depression, anxiety, existentialism and fatigue will getcha!

just picked up meds from vet. god it's expensive. but that's off the list now........ until it's back on the list again.

don't ask for help. they are busy, you're literally watching them be busy or have downtime to relax after being busy. oh you got the courage to ask anyway? ah they're not interested. ah yes it's too dirty/hard/inconvenient/simple and maybe you should just do it.

and now feel the many emotions associated with asking for help and being told no again. become unable to do thing you needed help with at all. or can't do it without help at all to begin with so fuck me I guess.

do whatever it is they ask you to do. even if you just asked for help and they said no, if they need you to do something you go do it and if you don't you are a bad person and will be made out as selfish and lazy and forced to feel guilt.

that dragon adoptable game luckily only needs to be kept up with every three days. unless there's an event and then at least casual grinding and dailies must be kept up with.

pokemon sleep is an addiction and I want to quit it but I'm struggling and don't know what to do bc if I have raikou I want the other two but I could literally quit right now and it wouldn't matter and I'd be a little more free please help

my oldest cat needs to be brushed more bc she can't groom herself as well nowadays and my brother can't stand having hair on him. he'll pet her and wipe is hand off and not really scratch her and I hate it so much. she has small mats here and there and I feel like a shitty parent

my rabbits need to be brushed constantly until all their mats are out from winter coat that just hasn't come out completely yet. the head tilt rabbit can't even reach most of his body to clean it.

I also have to clean their butts for the same reason

one of my cats keeps leaving small poops OUTSIDE of the litter box

my oldest with the kidney issues and my middle child cat both throw up a once or twice a week and I don't know why. the oldest has always been that way. my middle child has nothing else up with him thank fuck but this and eye gunk

I have to remember to drink water or tea or liquids more than just a few sips a day. I HAVE. TO. or I'll get a UTI. and bc I dissociate from my body sensations I won't notice the UTI until it starts hurting my kidneys and then it's crunch time to get antibiotics before I end up in the hospital which is a valid fear bc it has happened before and it almost happened a second time

can't physically do what I need without feeling sick. probably bc I can't take care of myself. which is probably bc I can't do anything without feeling ill. which is probably bc I don't take care of myself. which is probably bc i-

I'm so overwhelmed that I don't do anything I need to and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds

and I'm so overwhelmed that I start new projects and come up with new and more things to do and look for the old things I never did and never finished as well

and I'm so overwhelmed that I want to write again because nothing is in my control because there's no such thing as control because nothing matters and it's chaos and that's beautiful and I love life but I don't know what to do when I just want to pause everything but I can't pause everything and taking a break doesn't make me feel better it just lets everything build and makes me feel more on edge

dissociating isn't taking a break

and I wonder if being on Lexapro again would help but I know it wouldnt last

and I wonder if I should trip on shrooms bc it's been nearly an entire year. but I have such a limited amount and I need them for when I need them (I don't know when that is but I'll know when it happens) and the friend I got them from hasn't spoken to me in months

my go-to anxious intrusive thought is that he's dead. unfortunately that thought... well it's not as delusional as I'd like it to be. we dated for a little over a year, and then some more on and off and we even had sex this year. he is the only friend I have that lives close to me. (close is an hour and a half away)

my bestie who lives in the same state is 3 hours away. she's in school. she also has mental health struggles. she's not good at texting and she says this herself often.

I have other friends that live in the state but... I haven't spoken to them in years and I didnt ever let them in fully, and I'm afraid (I don't know what I'm afraid of)

my other besties live out of state. one is in Cali. the other is in North Carolina. I am in Texas.

the one in Cali I met online and have only met in person once. she's engaged. idk when the wedding is but im going, I'm invited of course. she's busy with work and mental health also. she used to have alters that we talked to. Sy was married to one of them

siruss dealing with pain of past relationships and trauma and everything

the NC bestie also used to have alters. siruss used to date bestie though. she's busy with work and mental health. and though we've never talked about it I feel like there's something off between us that neither of us want to touch. or maybe it's just me.

or maybe it's siruss wanting to let go and not being able to

and maybe we need to meet new friends who will see us and give us something new to think about and someone we can share stories with who won't agonize over hearing old names.

idk how to make friends anymore Im so tired and I distrust people

I'm so tired we fall asleep with the vibrator and don't even get to jerk off which trust me is not great. the nighttime endorphins dose is quite necessary to function the next day. TMI we're not a morning masturbator bc the pussy ends up wet all day and it's not sexy when there's no one to appreciate it and you're horrified about getting a UTI

I miss my chickens...

I want new tattoos before I die of stress and my body is thrown in the ground more bare than it should be.

I want to gain weight so I feel and look healthier and maybe it'll help me not feel sick and weak and in as much pain

but the kids are dying as the seconds pass and the dust is building on the shelves and the dishes are piling up and the trash is starting to smell sour and the recycling is overflowing and my desk is too cluttered to set anything down and I need to love them more and be around them more and I need to stop watching YouTube and I need to start drawing and I need to travel and I need to live life but everything costs money and nothing lasts and I'm too much for everyone that I've met but I will still love them with all my heart and I don't think it's their fault they are only humans and I'm an unspeakable amount of divine/demonic/cosmic/paranormal entities with their own traumas and lives and backgrounds and intricate details eating up my insides- do you know how long it takes to get to know one person? the answer is you never know one person- imagine that but for 6 people all vying and deserving of being known and seen

and there's genocides and wars all over the planet. and there's deforestation and poachers. and there's puppy mills and inbreeding. and there's capitalism and heteronormativity. and I can't stop thinking about Nex Benedict and Aaron Bushnell. I can't stop thinking about the BLM protests. and I can't stop thinking about the Hong Kong protests. and I can't stop thinking about China. and human trafficking. and polution. and how the news and media that most people see don't say anything important and fear monger and emotionally manipulate for views and clicks. and nothing is real and no one tells the truth and even if it is the truth no one knows for certain. you never know what really happened unless you see it with your own eyes.

and it's all a stupid game we could all decide to stop playing and simply give people food and shelter and wifi and safety and medical attention. money doesn't have to exist we can just do things for each other but everyone forgot what reality was. which is about being outside and talking with people you love.

and I'm not suicidal anymore, although I do wish to lay at the foot of a tree until it grows around and envelops me. turning my being into immortality itself and sending my consciousness into the fabric of roots pulsing across terra until im one with the gods

#hell o void #hell o hadal #hell o popsicle #hell o pyro #this post #.nola

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jinglyhigh-heels · 9 months ago

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I’m pretty sure I have a google docs for this, but I’m not in the mood to actually look for it, so:

Issues I have and should address in therapy:

1. not having therapy. I need therapy.

2. feeling like I need to deserve things.

- need to put in This many friendship tokens in order for this person to like me

- need to be better at clarinet in order to buy a better clarinet (when in fact, getting a new clarinet should help me get better*)

3. insecure insecure insecure it’s been twinging in my gut for weeks now idk what to do not good enough even though I‘m not bad for where I’m at (I think), I’m probably technically average but I feel like a disappointment like I’m bad

4. hasn’t been an issue lately (I‘d actually need to hang out around people for this to even be a possibility) but my tendency to fawn/freeze whenever someone seems like they’re going to get angry with me and/or when people yell at me (thanks mom)

5. I‘m so bad at friends?? And I don’t even know what exactly it is. Like I know (at least, I think I do) what I’m technically doing wrong, but I don’t know (well, not exactly—I have a few guesses) the root mental issues and how to tackle them. Because trying to tackle the results clearly ain’t working, and I’m sad and lonely.

*and that’s another thing! Ik that getting a new clarinet will help, but I’m stuck with this loop of subconsciously hoping that it would cure all my issues (and therefore my self-worth/anxiety/self-confidence issues), but knowing that it likely won’t and that having this hope will only lead a really bad anxiety/self-doubt/regret episode when it is inevitably dashed. But I don’t know where exactly to put my expectations! There’s no real answer for how this will immediately help me, until I actually buy the thing, and so my brain keeps going for the ideal! Gah!

6. I know all this and therefore I don’t need therapy, right? Right?!? Ahahahahahahaha

Edit: something I should mention is that I technically have ADHD meds that I should be on. However, many issues were present when it came to actually getting them, so I’m about 3 months unmediated unfortunately. Aside from (?), one reason I haven’t started seeking therapy is that I’m pretty sure my medicine helped with a lot of the insecurity?? And idk if it was like a “the medicine helps with the thing that is causing the anxiety” or a “the medicine actually just fistfights the anxiety”, but either way I think I should wait until I’m able to get back on my meds and readjust to them before I start therapy, that way I go into it knowing what I don’t got covered.

#also‚ sadness over loosing theater like. just hit me?? today??#it’s been literally a year since my last show wtf #delayed reaction much?#even then it was more a twinge‚ and then having it be emotionally sore for ~20 min #that is. a thing ig.

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singleroad · 1 year ago

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Soooo

I’ve decided I’m going to try to go through the Swedish healthcare system to do IUI and… if those fails an IVF attempt… and if that fails go to Denmark. Lol

It could take a long time for it to go through even when I start, but it won’t cost as much.

Depending on how my debt situation looks at the start of 2025 I’ll start then. I think it’ll look decent figuring in a wait period for evaluation, to be approved, and then to get a time for inseminatio, and pregnancy. With that timeline, if I were to get pregnant on the first try it would still be a 2026 baby and I know things will look so great then.

There’s many fears though. Reading through the rules for inseminations for single people they highlight concerns for people with previous mental health problems. I am autistic, ADHD, have chronic depression and anxiety BUT I am reeeaaaally well medicated and it’s managed so well right now. Like I thought my ADHD meds would do nothing but it’s such a clear delineation from before and after I started them this year.

This is also a reason to wait. I have to prove that I can stay well enough to care for a baby. I did have a burnout just before the pandemic that was pretty bad, but I now know that it was my autism and being forced to mask 24/7 that was the issue + some ADHD things.

The biggest challenge and way to prove myself is through the job I’m starting in august. It is a job I’m so excited for and I have so many ideas, but it is a full time job with a fairly long commute until October. I have worked 80hr weeks at times since the pandemic, but this whole week in and week out of 40hrs and managing a whole library by myself is scary. How will I manage? I need to manage or I will need to accept that children can’t be in the cards for me… and that thought genuinely makes me want to sob. There’s a reason why I want to go through with this.

So many thoughts and ramblings.

I am also concerned about taking my IUD out. The plan was to take it out next week but I’m going to cancel that appointment and have it out in September or October. Next week is a 50hr work week at a physically demanding job, and then with the new job I don’t want to manage having a period for the first time in nearly 6 years during that transitioning. I’ve started to have “mini” periods as the hormone is basically gone soon, and the mini cramps makes me remember how awful the cramps were. But it’s part of the process. I’m going to get period panties because I hate tampons and pads are a textural nightmare, and cups are daunting. It also feels like a good bet when I have no clue about my flow in the beginning. When I removed the nexplanon it was such a wild ride the first months after trying to figure out what my body was doing.

After the first period I’m going to try out the easy@home ovulation strips with premom app for a few months just to see if I ovulate regularly or not. I should have a basal temp somewhere too.

I’m just so ready for this next chapter of my life to start so I can build the future of my life. 4 weeks and I’m at my new job. 11 weeks and I’m back in my apartment.

I can do this

I can show them

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ms-demeanor · 1 month ago

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"My kindergartener asks me a ton of questions every morning i wish i could give her her meds while she was still asleep so that she would shut the fuck up by the time she's awake"

"My 4-9 year old child is the most annoying person in the planet and I can't wait until he's old enough for a prescription because if he stays like this I'm just going to keep hating him."

"If he's too young for vyvanse start him on caffeine but no sugar! Half a can of diet cola with breakfast should be a good place to start."

"I started giving my kid her meds before she gets out of bed so that they kick in by breakfast time and I don't have to deal with her constant fidgeting and incessant talking."

Look I do understand the need to vent but an entire subreddit that seems to confirm the worst things that kids with ADHD think of themselves (my parents hate me, I'm too annoying to love, nobody will like me if I don't shut myself down, everyone thinks I'm loud and stupid and they laugh about me behind my back, my mom wishes i was like my brother, if they could flip a switch to make me into someone else they would, they would rather have any child but me, anybody would rather have any child but me) seems fucking ghastly. THIS is the kind of shit you put in a private discord server, c'mon.

I ended up on r/ADHDparenting (a subreddit about parenting kids with ADHD, not about being a parent with ADHD) and Jesus fuck.

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ghostonly · 3 years ago

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FTM Top Surgery Q&A - Installment #1

Operation Day Process and Experience

I posted a few weeks back that I'm doing a Q&A / Series combo for FTM top surgery as a large, disabled guy with ADHD and low income. If you want to know more about it, check out the announcement here or visit the installment masterlist here. The list will be updated when each installment is posted and I'm accepting questions to incorporate into each installment until May of 2023 when the series should have its final installments written.

For the first installment, I'm going to cover the operation day process and experience so that people who aren't sure how it all works, or those who have never had surgery before, can know what to expect.

This installment will be all about body preparation, surgery time, what happens at the hospital beforehand, and the direct aftermath of the operation. If you're interested in how to prepare your home for surgery, or want to know more about the results and recovery, you'll be interested in the pre-op environment preparation and progress installments, respectively. The preparation and the 1-week progress installments should be posted within the week and will be linked in the installment masterlist.

I'm going to write this as I experienced it, but different doctors may operate differently in their surgical procedure, so don't expect your experience to be an exact replica of mine.

So, without further ado

Pre-Op Preparation

There are only a few things, outside of environment preparation, that I had to do before surgery.

Earlier in the week I had to get a pre-op COVID test and I also had to pick up my antibiotics, pain meds, and anti-nausea meds, which were prescribed ahead of time.

The day before, I was given a time in the afternoon to call and get my surgery time for the next day. This is because they sometimes have to move surgeries around so they don't know until the day before. Luckily, they called me instead, so that was a help to my nerves.

After midnight, I had to fast, which would have been easier if I'd slept, but I had food prep to do, so I ended up just staying up all night. Let me tell you: worse than the exhaustion was cleaning and slicing 2 massive containers of strawberries without being able to eat a single one. Would not recommend lmao.

And, finally, the morning of the operation, I had to wash the surgical site with a soap they'd given me at one of my pre-op appointments. I can only assume it's some special antibacterial or something. I was told, after showering, not to use any kind of lotion or deodorant or anything like that.

They said I could use the soap and shower the night before if I wanted to but, considering you aren't allowed to shower for a week after surgery, I recommend doing it right before.

Then it was just a matter of putting on some loose clothes and heading to the hospital. Make sure to wear or bring a button-up shirt with you. I ended up having a bit more arm movement than I've heard others do, but I wouldn't count on your experience being the same. It's possible that this is related to my stretchy EDS skin making it possible to reach further before it starts to tug at the surgery site. Either way, it was a relief to know I didn't have to worry about it and made getting dressed with help a lot easier.

Arrival and Immediate Pre-Op Preparation

After I got to the hospital and checked in, I had all of my information confirmed and was given a hospital bracelet. After much waiting around in different places, I was finally taken back to the pre-op area where there are different alcove rooms with curtains for doors.

I think pretty universally, they're gonna make you give a urine sample. They do this for pregnancy testing, and I'm pretty sure whether you've had sex recently or not is completely unimportant to them. So, if you kinda have to pee but aren't on the verge of pissing yourself, just hold it. It will make this go faster.

After I'd given my sample, I was taken to one of the little pre-op rooms and instructed to undress. The nurse generally leaves the room for this so you'll have some privacy. I was given a couple of clear bags to put my clothes and shoes in and a gown to put on, and was told to get onto the bed after I had done that.

There was also a weird foil blanket to pull up. These foil blankets have holes that can be plugged into and are filled with warm air while you're being operated on to keep you warm and improve circulation. They're much less nefarious than they look.

After that, I had a nurse come in and confirm all of my information again. If you take a bunch of meds, make sure you know them by heart or bring a list of them with their dosages. If the nurse is missing one on your chart, you'll want to be able to give them what they're missing. Med lists are really important, especially before general anesthesia, because certain meds have interactions with anesthesia or other things they put in your IV.

Tell them about vitamins and supplements too. I can't stress this enough: anything you are putting into your body can potentially interact harmfully with stuff they're using and can literally kill you. As long as they know what you're taking, they can be sure that none of it will and it will be no problem. This includes illegal drugs. They don't care that they're illegal, they just don't want to kill you because you didn't want to mention you're doing coke or are an alcoholic. They have things they can give you to prevent withdrawal as well, because that's not good for you either.

After a long time of this checking my info and asking me questions about when the last time I ate was, another nurse did an EKG (I think that's the right acronym - I always mix up the different acronyms for looking inside of you in one way or another. Anyway, they put some sticky things on your chest and such and print out a scan, then remove them)

The IV was next and wasn't Super. I'm pretty used to getting jabbed for various things, including IVs, but the direction she put my IV in had it pulling a bit upward on my skin which was uncomfortable, but oh well. It wasn't the end of the world.

If you've never had an IV before, my best advice is, don't look, take deep, slow breaths, and remember that the pain is only temporary and that you just have to get through a couple of seconds of it before things are back to normal. Keep your arm and hand relaxed. The more tense your muscles are, the more it will hurt. If you faint from needles, tell them this. They'll use a smaller needle that will be slightly less painful, and, perhaps more importantly, much easier on a psychological level.

Once all of that was done, the anesthesiologist came in and asked me some questions, then had me sign off on a consent form.

The last thing in that room was my doctor coming in to mark my chest and ask me some questions about preferences. She made a line down my sternum and some curved lines under and on top of the breasts to show where the incisions would be made. Then, because I opted for a free nipple graft (that's free like separated, not free like no cost), she made markings where each one would end up. This is where your input is important. You can give direction on size and location. If you don't like where your doctor is marking you, say something, for the love of god. This is your body. If you've ever needed to assert yourself, now would be the time.

Once she was all done marking things with her bio-safe marker, she had me get back into bed and that was that.

The Painful Stuff

I bet you were nervous about that heading, but nah. All the painful stuff is gonna happen in another dimension. You will be Gone.

After the pre-op prep, they wheeled me to the operating room. When they say they're putting something in your IV for anxiety, it means you're gonna get stupid. I thought he meant something and what he meant was Something.

They had me say my name and date of birth to the other people in the OR and then had me state why I'm there - this part, I'm not sure if for security reasons or for their own amusement, because not ten seconds after he put the Something in my IV, my response was, "I'm getting my tiddies cut off!" Then immediately leaned over to the nurse and said, "Does that stuff for anxiety make you say stupid shit?" and she laughed with all the glee in the world and said, "Uh huh. This is my favorite part."

They lifted the bed and wheeled it right alongside the operating table (which is also just a narrow bed) and had me scoot over onto it, and honestly, from there I have literally no memory. I think they asked me about my boyfriend or something and then I was under.

Post-Op Aftermath

If you've never been under general anesthesia before, it is like taking a time machine into the future. Idk if it's just because I don't sleep like a normal person, so this is extremely fun and bizarre to me, but it's super fun because you will have little to no recollection of falling asleep and then you will suddenly be waking up with nothing in between.

When I woke up, I was only a bit sore because they'd put pain meds in my IV ofc. I felt a bit like if I moved too much I would hurt myself, but staying still wasn't really painful. There was just kind of an ache.

Straight up the most painful part of the operation for the first few days is the sore throat from having a breathing tube. Make sure you keep tea on hand and I recommend some cough drops if you can get them.

In previous experiences with general anesthesia, I woke up very quickly and was fully awake when I did. This time, I was very slow to come out of it, maybe because this procedure lasted longer than the others I've had. Also possibly because I literally didn't sleep the night before.

A nurse told me while I could barely keep my eyes open that I needed to eat some crackers so she could give me my pain pill. I told her I needed a few minutes because I was so half asleep that I could barely keep my head up, let alone eat something.

I was hoping the pain pill would be chewable, but no luck. My throat hurt really bad and I was afraid I would choke on it, but after eating some saltines and drinking a bunch of water, I managed alright.

From there, I had some time to lie there and wake up more. Natural first reaction: immediately feeling my chest and being overwhelmed with relief. I pulled the binder out a bit to look under it. It was mostly gauze and stuff blocking the view, but I could see enough.

After I'd had a bit of time to wake up and eat some more crackers, she let me know she was calling my ride home and helped me get dressed. Then she gave me a note where she wrote down what time I could take my next pain pill and antibiotic after I got home. After that, they brought a wheelchair and walked me out to the car where it was waiting at the pickup drive-through.

I was a little bit unstable on my feet trying to walk up the stairs when we got home, but holding the handrail was enough to keep me balanced. I was a bit dizzy and nauseated from standing upright while going to the bathroom and getting my shoes off and whatnot so I took one of the anti-nausea pills. That was the only one I needed during the whole recovery, so I guess I have those on hand in case I need them some other time.

From there, I just laid down and went the hell to sleep lmao

My 1-week post-op recovery and progress installation should be out in the next few days, so check the installation masterlist if you want to read about the first week of recovery and see post-op pictures.

Also don't forget to send in some questions to spice up the series!

#ghostsurgeryseries #surgery #ftm #ftm top surgery #trans #transgender #trans man #transman #transmasc #top surgery

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