#ive been there twice before in my life and had NO ISSUES NO ANXIETY NO MEAN PEOPLE ALL VERY EASY AND SIMPLE AND NICE

[faaun]

i feel rly sad and conflicted abt one of my best friends on earth but idk who to ask for advice bc i usually would have consulted her in this situation lmao

[leoxxii]

I HAFVE TO GO TO THE DMV 2DAY AND I AM SOSO SCARED

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

So I hope you don’t mind my rant 🪻

Basically Ive been fighting my undiagnosed issue for years. I dont feel valid enough to call it an ED. But basically I went through a very stressful time years ago leading me to severely restrict my intake and only eat one meal a day which obviously lead to weekly binges. I purged everyday for several months. Lost a significant amount of weight. When the stressor left I maintained my new lower weight . the behavior persisted for years albeit to a lesser extent.

I had come to a place where while self conscious i was somewhat healthy. I ate well and enjoyed cooking and baking. I had treats without worries. I loved dancing and actually had energy to exercise and adored it. I did struggle with a constant urge to exercise though. Id been purge free for an entire year and I have been binge free for a few years

April comes and the stress of that time throws me back into restriction. At first I tell myself its okay. I make an effort to harm reduce and I eat three meals a day. Even with taking vitamins and exercising and losing weight the so called healthy way I have stomach pains and bloating, Im exhausted.

It continues and worsens and I restrict lower and lower. Often skipping a meal or only having one. My fatigue is terrible, I struggle to sleep and my anxiety is out of control. My skin is dry. My stomach gets painfully full easily. I am emotional. I cry all the time. I have sharp chest pains and I am cold. I an constantly dizzy and it is hard to breath when I stand up.

I am barely underweight. But I want to feel better.

Ive already been to the doctor twice but was too afraid to come forward about the restriction. Im going to a cardiologist soon.

Here is the real issue. I lied on the mental helath screening bcs I was afraid of being committted into a psych ward and My pcp recommended therapy. I made an appt and then cancelled. Since my anxiety is now so bad i cant manage i call to reschedule and try it and give it an honest effort.

Just the thought of going made me so upset I began purging again half of me wants to hide my issue from my therapist or cancel and the other half wants to come forward and see about getting help. This is also encouraging me to lose more because i feel i have to be sicker in order to get a diagnosis or be deserving of help. Im also so afraid of being committed or going to inpatient. It is my biggest fear. What do I do ?

I don't mind your rant, anon. It sounds like you're dealing with something really difficult and I think you are indeed allowed to call it an eating disorder.

I can understand your fear around being diagnosed, as it can change your life significantly. At the same time, anon, you will not be able to get help unless you take the steps to reach out for it (and follow through on them!) I know it's really hard and really scary, especially the thought of going to inpatient.

I get a lot of people saying "I feel like I need to be sicker." However, on the flipside, imagine all the people who've done lasting health damage to themselves, who may wish they'd gotten help before they'd gotten as sick as they did! An eating disorder is an eating disorder, and all sufferers deserve the opportunity to get help for the underlying cause of their disorder no matter what stage of ED they're in. You don't have to get "sick enough" to validate the fact that you're suffering. You can validate it to yourself. In fact, let me say it to you, anon. I see you. I see that you're suffering. You are worthy and deserving of help and support. I wish you healing.

(I'd like to add a sidenote here that just because you don't feel you look emaciated doesn't mean you aren't sick. Most human bodies have a LOT of safeguards against weight loss, especially in individuals who have a pattern of restricting, eating again, restricting, eating again...your body can still be struggling and deprived of nutrients even if it's stubbornly refusing to let go of pounds to try and keep you alive. It sounds as though your body is trying to express its distress to you in other ways, but are you ready to listen to it? That's up to you.)

I think you need to ask yourself what self-care steps you need to take in order to schedule a therapy appointment and stick to it. I think you know that the urge to comfort yourself by purging is counterproductive. What other things can you do to self-soothe in a healthy way? What are some small comforts you can use to show your body that you believe it deserves comfort and compassion while you work up the nerve to re-schedule?

When you do go to therapy, perhaps you could write down a script of stuff you're ready to talk about and stick to that script. A good therapist will gently push you but will also let you go at your pace and will not force you to talk about things that you're not ready to talk about. If you don't feel that connection with the therapist you meet, you can always search for another one. Yeah, I know, it's really hard to go through those steps AGAIN when you're already struggling so much. It's important, though. And when you're done, perhaps you can reward yourself with a treat. It doesn't have to be a food treat, if you are not at a point where you can effortlessly enjoy food. It can be any little thing that makes your body or soul feel rewarded, a fancy soap or a bath bomb, some art supplies or a little home decoration. Anything that helps you focus on giving yourself some love without engaging in ED behaviors.

You can go to cardiology, but until you're honest about what's straining your body, you'll only be putting band-aids on a much bigger gaping wound. I mean, still go to cardiology. But I think you know that you need to start treating the disorder, and finding ways to stay out of the disorder when stressful times come around.

I also want to address your fears around inpatient treatment. A lot of doctors and counselors will be willing to work with you around an outpatient treatment plan if you show that you want to heal and feel better and are willing to keep working toward that end. However, some people do end up in inpatient and I know it's scary to end up in a new environment and feel like all your control is being taken from you. But remember, while being able to engage in ED behaviors feels like you're controlling your life, every time you do it, the eating disorder takes more control of YOU. Think about it. You're already struggling. You're engaging in behaviors that take away the energy and time you had for the true joys in your life. You want medical professionals to help you, but you're not giving them the full range of information to help you. Do you feel like you're really in control of your life right now?

If you show willingness to work outpatient, I think your supports will probably work with you on this. However, I cannot 100% promise you will not end up needing to do inpatient. I know that's scary. You're allowed to be scared! I invite you to sit with that feeling and hold compassion for yourself and know that you're not the first person to ever be scared of going into inpatient. You also may have to talk about the possibility while seeking treatment. It's okay to be scared, I hope you know that. That's why I suggested bringing a script to therapy, so you can give your therapist a baseline for what you're able to confront right now. A good therapist will develop a rapport with you so that you feel safe working through scary topics. Healing is not the absence of fear, but knowing you have a safe person equipped with tools to help you cope with fear. Someone who will meet you with compassion, not judgment, and lay out your options for you in a way that you understand.

I wish you the best of luck in this difficult journey, anon. I hope you find healing.

[everythingsinred]

what follows is a long, rambly, and possibly sappy thank you note to the best fandom ive ever involved myself in. if you have ever sent me an ask, commented on my fics, or replied to a post i made (or even liked it tbh)--then this post is for you. (and this is most certainly not a good-bye or even close; i just occasionally get into sappy moods)

i want to start working on a career that i like, and my mom’s recommendation was to start a writing blog (she insisted i dont call it that though--to call it a “website” so it sounds more professional when i apply for writing gigs). its not the first time shes given me that advice but i have for some reason always resisted that idea before. “nobody would read it” was always the bottom line. that whole “it has to be perfect to make up for the fact that it’s me” has always been my outlook on anything i produce. its why i feel so poorly whenever i post a new chapter of a fic or any art ever. its why im taking so long on the next batch of ga essays. its why ive never formally submitted any writing ever for publishing. why would anyone read anything i have to write, especially with no dead fandom to prompt them? who would choose me out of all the aspiring writers out there?

for ga it was a bit easier after a bit of breaking through the initial anxiety of sharing bits of myself. its a small fandom. not much content going around. theyd take anything right? even if it was from me! 

but something really weird happened these past few years in the ga fandom. i started writing essays and became more vocal, posting my thoughts, writing a long, dark, fucked up fanfic. i got feedback from people who wanted more from me. theyd ask me my thoughts on things, when id never considered myself an authority on anything or even very interesting to talk to (a lifetime of being the substitute friend will do that to you). ppl sent me asks about questions. they replied to my posts to further discuss things. me! what on earth?

then it got weirder. i posted my weird messed up little fic and now every once in a while ill get a comment from a person that says that my fic is their favorite, not just in the fandom, but ever. EVER. what? a couple of people have told me that they’d read anything i wrote, even if it had nothing to do with gakuen alice.

that they’d read something just because it was me.

this isnt a rant or a vent. something has changed in my self esteem in the past few years because today, when my mom told me i should start a “writing website” and post weekly writing, it actually sounded like a decent idea. no part of her advice was different than it had ever been, but i was. i could for the first time imagine starting a blog (website) and picture someone actually liking what they found there. and that’s bc of the ga fandom and bc of the writing ive done it for it and SPECIFICALLY the writing ive actually had the guts to share. 

none of it has been perfect. im lazy when it comes to self-editing and when i finish writing a chapter im eager to just throw it out there instead of rereading it once, let alone twice. a lot of it has been imperfect, but you guys still read it. you enjoyed it, even. “it has to be perfect to make up for the fact that it’s me” has never been a problem for you. for whatever reason, quite a few of you like me, like my writing, like my ideas and thoughts. a couple of years ago i wouldnt have been able to fathom that, not even in my wildest dreams. 

im proud of myself for taking those first steps a couple years back, for posting those first couple posts and letting myself get involved in the fandom for a manga ive loved for half my life. im proud because if i hadnt done that, then maybe my self esteem wouldnt have developed like this. maybe i wouldnt have been able to picture a career in publishing as clearly as i can now. i obviously still have issues as far as my self esteem is concerned. i second-guess myself. i talk down to myself. i put off rereading bc i dont want to hate what i create. but you guys have helped me like my writing and helped me see that other people can like it too.

i am beyond grateful for that. i dont get a lot of traction or feedback like i would if i were in a larger fandom, but i dont mind. the feedback that i do get is of such good quality and has meant so much to me that it has potentially changed my life. i just needed you all to know that. that the people who have sent me asks, both on and off anon, requesting my thoughts on any topic; the people who leave comments on ffn and ao3, giving support ranging from long paragraphs to a brief sentence; the people who dm me or message me to share their thoughts on my work; the people who commented on my natsumikan essays telling me that ive helped them see something from a different perspective--you all have helped me see that there’s value in the things i create. 

i just want to say thank you. it has meant so much to me so far to be able to feel so confident in my writing. i really didnt even notice the change until today. how bizarre is it that something so important can change without you even noticing? i look forward to sharing more with you, from more fics to the mikan essay (which still has to be perfect, just maybe not as perfect as it wouldve had to be a few years ago lol). 

don’t be nervous that this a good-bye. it is not. it’s strange because whenever i’ve said anything like this (sent a message of adoration to a person i love, for example), people think it’s a bad sign. that i’m saying good-bye, or that it’s somehow a sign of something unsaid. i understand. this kind of nonsense sappiness (like all that stuff i wrote up there ^) is usually saved for the ffn bio when someone is leaving the site, for the good-bye post when someone decides to leave a fandom. “you’ve all meant so much to me and i’m leaving now.” that’s because usually people save all the important things for the end. you only say how you’ve felt when you say farewell. i don’t think life should be that way. i’m not saying good-bye, i’m saying i love you. i think people should say that more. i want people to feel good about themselves for what they’ve done, however small, to make my life--and undoubtedly the lives of others--a little brighter. and you have. you should know and i don’t intend to keep it to myself until i say good-bye (whenever or even if that happens). 

tldr; i love you gakuen alice fandom <3 youre not dead because dead things cant give life the way you have.

[wizkiddx]

hiii!!! omg please please pleasee do a part two of 3 hearts broken cus it fucking slaps miss girl

part 2 to 3 broken hearts!!! ive been so 🥺 at all the lovely comments+interest pt 1 had so thanku all !

summary: serious serious angst again will tom somehow get it back (unlike looking cos boy is a fool)

warnings: again lots of swearing (im British sorry not sorry) / wayyyy too much tea / slating Dom abit (obvs fictional but idk if I like the guy sorry his opinions are :/) / commitment issues

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

read part 1 here!!!!

That was three days ago now. Three days since you'd spoken to your boyfrien- well, Tom. It wasn't evident what the situation was.

The typical British weather brought with it the most ironic pathetic fallacy you could ever see. The clouds were dark and glooming, firing angry pellets of rain out as hard as they could. When you had pulled up on the roadside, it had just been a light drizzle but synchronised with your anxiety levels rising - so did the rain. When you finally opened up the car door, you threw your hoodie open with a sigh before running up the pathway to the front door.

It was the same burgundy red that you knew so well, but this time instead of just letting yourself in - you stood in the rain used the brass knocker thing twice. To be honest, you were hoping that no one was home - but in that house, it was pretty unlikely. After 30 seconds of getting drenched in the downpour, you were about to let yourself in with the spare key before the door swung open.

"Oh! Er Y/n?"

"Yeh um hi." You had to shout a bit over the sound of what must now be classified as a storm.

"Toms not-"

"I know. Can I come in?" As awkward and stunted as this conversation was, if you didn't get out of the rain asap you would literally end up drowned.

“Oh er yeh-yeh yeh come in.”

Harry stammered as he held the door open, gesturing for you to enter into the tiled hallway. Gratefully, you followed, throwing your sopping wet hood back down and wiping your feet on the floor.

"Sorry for just showing up, but I left some scripts here. My management are on my arse to read them and-"

"And you waited till Tom left for mum and dads?" The fluffy-haired boy has caught you red-handed; there was no defence, so you didn't even try.

Because yes, you knew on a Friday afternoon when Tom was home he would always, like clockwork, go to his parents just to kick back and watch gogglebox with both of them. It was only natural then that you chose Friday afternoon to come and pick up your stuff.

"I've been waiting in my car for half an hour till I saw him leave." Harry half laughed at that, still the two of you standing opposite each other in the hallway. "Um, do you… do you hate me Harry?"

Clearly, he hadn't quite been expecting your question going by the way his eyes almost bugged out his head.

"No, I-I, of course, I don't… look, I'm home alone so you fancy a cuppa?" Not being able to help the small chuckle, you nodded appreciatively, following Harry through the house.

"Your answer to everything is tea."

Harry had prepared the two mugs in silence as you sat at the table waiting patiently - if nervously too. You didn't miss how Harry had still used your favourite mug, having had to dig through the cupboard to find the weird square-shaped thing. Once done, he rounded the kitchen island and placed it in front of you, which you instantly cradled in two hands - for the hope of warming you up.

"You cold?" Obviously, it was pretty evident that sitting in your rain-soaked hoodie was not cosy at all. "Hang on a sec."

The boy sprung up again, returning moments later with a hoodie in hand, one he offered out to you with a little smile. The issue was that him and Tom shared clothes, so the hoodie he was kindly offering to you also had been worn by Tom before. Which made it hurt a little bit to wear. It was better than sitting soaked through though.

"How have you been then?"

"Not the best, to be honest, but uh… how about you?"

"Being with Tom while he's fighting with you? Oh, it's a barrel of laughs. You might've escaped it, but I haven't." He was trying to lighten the mood, and you appreciated it, offering him a half-smile that didn't really meet your eyes.

"Yeh sorry about that."

"Don't apologise; it doesn't sound like it's your fault Y/n."

That surprised you. Tom, especially when he was in moods like he was when you argued, wasn't one to admit when he was wrong. It was usually how the world was against him and how he was so hard done by. Accepting responsibility was something he hadn't said to you yet - but at least, small steps.

"He say that?"

"Pretty much… doesn't seem like he's angry at you, but-but he's still angry."

"At the world?" You rolled your eyes; this seemed to be the same old Tom through and through. Still immature. Still not with the right mindset.

"At himself." Harry countered, slightly entertained, when he saw the flash of surprise in your face as he sipped his drink. "And me… if I dare to so much as breathe this week."

This time you properly laughed, and Harry joined in too before the room fell back to silence - except the noise of the rain hitting the garden patio slats. You swirled the tea round in your mug, feeling the brunette's eyes on you. He'd always been your fake little brother too, since you'd met the Hollands way back 3 and a half years ago. Tom and yourself were barely adults, which meant the twins were still proper children. Harry had always been the one that understood you. Hollands, by nature, loved humans - loved to talk, to chat, to gossip. But sometimes, doing all that socialising got too much for you, as it did for Harry. He was the only one that seemed to understand social exhaustion. So when those moments had hit, you'd kept each other company in silence.

He got you, sometimes in ways your own boyfriend didn't.

"You know why he got so worked up, right?" You shook your head, looking up curiously. "Dad got under his skin on his birthday zoom thing."

Ah, now that did seem to coincide with the start of Tom's more petulant phase. To be fair, Tom had been asking to move in together for near enough a year now - but it was only in the past month it seemed to be the only thing you'd talk about and obviously only three days since the flight back. Dom's birthday barely a week ago, whilst you and Tom were both filming - except Tom had managed to get a day off where you hadn't. So you hadn't heard this conversation.

"What'd he say?"

"Was talking about how he and mum were settling down at Toms age, joked about how you rejected him, said maybe you were holding out for something better."

"Something better?" Harry sighed, leaning forward onto his elbows.

"He'd seen an article just off a trashy tabloid… it named you Hollywood's golden girl or something, said you could have the pick of any person on the planet…"

Of all the people in the world, why is Tom affected by shit journalism? He knows how much bullshit people write. He knows how it's all made up, exaggerated nonsense. And what he should know, completely and totally, is how much you love him. And if he didn't, was that your fault? Had you done something wrong, something to make him doubt you?

Harry seemed to notice the internal dialogue going on in your head, adding to the point. "It wasn't the article though, it was the fact dad said it."

Hmmm.

You and Dom got on; it wasn't like you hated the possible future father in law or whatever. Just…. you had very different outlooks. As much as Tom prided himself on how' grounded his family keeps him' -to you at least, they aren't entirely at sea level either. They'd never really had any particular struggles in life. They were the definition of middle class, and that's about it. They lived in a posh suburb of London, had all their family still around. It was the perfect family.

And whilst you were in no illusions about how privileged your life was now. It hadn't always been. You'd never had the 'nuclear' family. Instead, only your dad and a string of dodgy and fleeting stepmothers while struggling to make ends meet. So you were just always wary of Dom, of his opinions that so often his boys took for gospel. They always seemed pretty sheltered and close-minded.

And yet, Tom was a grown man.

"I get that, I just… Tom should know that we know more about our relationship than his dad. I mean,… have I done something wrong? Made him think I'm not in this for the long haul?"

"No nonono Y/n he's just… well he's an idiot, isn't he? I don't think he properly understands why you're cautious about moving and everything. He's just an idio- "

Harry was cut off for lightly insulting his brother by the sound of the front door opening, both of your heads swivelling towards the source. You then met Harry's eyes in a panic, to which he replied relatively simply.

"Just talk to each other. For my sake." You would've argued if it weren't for the fact you were so focused on Tom's shuffling around in the entrance hallway - back early from his parents.

"Baz? Where you at? I thought I saw Y/n's car and-"

"Kitchen!!!" Before Tom could say anything else, possibly landing himself in more trouble, Harry interrupted as his chair screeched while standing up. And then Tom was just there. Standing in the doorway, his arms dropping limply to his side as he noticed you. Everything about that moment seemed to freeze, when you locked eyes with him for the first time in three days. It didn't go unnoticed, the way his Adams apple bobbed, the way his eyes widen. The boy looked plain and simply terrified.

It was Harry who broke the silence, after giving you a stern look that said 'stay'. The younger Holland boy walked up to Tom and spoke.

"Try actually talking and actually listening about your problems with each other." And then he was gone, down the hallway and up the stairs.

For a few moments, Tom stayed absolutely stationary, now staring at where Harry had been when speaking to the both of you (but mainly Tom). Long enough to put your sense of unease at an all-time high, ready to make a break for it.

"If you don't want to talk, then I can leav-"

"NO!" Apparently snapping out of it, Tom exclaimed loud enough to make you flinch from your seat. "Sorry! I-I just… I wasn't expecting to… you know, to see you."

"Yeh I just uh- just came to pick up some scripts… Harry cornered me with a tea, though; otherwise, I'd be…."

"Baz thinks the whole world could be fixed with tea."

"that's what I said!" You instinctively responded, forgetting the fact you're supposed to be mad at him, and just for a second falling back into your normal flow.

Tom didn't even try to hide his grin in response, until you quickly corrected your face- then he did too. Turning around to put the kettle on for himself. Because right now, he needed to fix his whole world, and he needed all the help he could get. For a period, the only noise was the sound of the kettle boiling, then the teaspoon clinking against the mug as he stirred - until he padded over, taking the seat across from you.

"So."

"So."

"It's been a while," Tom stated the bloody obvious.

"You never called."

"Didn't think you'd want me to."

You thought that the early signs weren't all that auspicious. His ability to read a situation once again failing.

"I wanted you to say something."

"Say what?"

"What do you think Tom?" He replied to the sarcastic tone by sucking in a sharp breath, holding it for a second, before slowly exhaling. As if trying to compose himself, take time to think of a response - a mature move for him.

"Well, I think you want me to say sorry? For being so moody and not waiting for you and for upsetting those kids. And thanks too, for covering for me?"

You just hummed. Waiting for him to continue. Because yes, you did deserve all those things. But you also deserved more. An apology for, oh I don't know, saying he didn't think you loved him? It was a wait that never ended, he had nothing more to add.

"Going by your face, I take it I missed something?"

The bloody cheek of it.

"Theres nothing else? Nothing else at all? …" You gave him that chance, the opportunity but all he could respond with was a shake of his head. "You thought I was fine about you saying that I don't love you?" You hadn't intended on raising your voice, but really you hadn't realised you did till after the fact. To blinded by rage at his ignorance.

"You want to talk about this now?"

"When else Tom?" You sighed, realising he perhaps wasn't ready for this conversation. Maybe he needed more time to think things through, have sense talked into him by various wiser family members. Or maybe, he never would be. That was the worst-case scenario. But also… you're most likely prediction.

He shuffled in his seat, clearing his voice but not saying anything. Not a peep.

"I have spent three years of my life with you. I've had countless nights of too little sleep because that was the only time you could facetime. I've exposed my relationship to the world and people's opinions because you didn't want to hide. All I've done is love you. How could you even say that?" There might've been tears in your eyes, yet you were determined to keep them at bay. You needed to have this out, one way or another, to be clear and cohesive and logical. No time to cry.

"Y/n I know that, I…" He sighed, instinctively reaching for your hand, but you were quicker to pull it away. There was hurt in his eyes, but so there should be. "It just sometimes feels like that's it for you. That yeh you love me but you just want to standstill. That this is as much as it'll ever be."

Your emotions were suddenly uncontainable. Your voice croaked as you whispered, "Have I done something wrong?"

"No love, nonono if that's how you feel then that's okay. But it's something I'm not… shit this is hard." He took a pause to take a sip of his drink, your glazed eyes never leaving his. "I don't think I can stand still anymore. And yeh I was pissy and childish the other day because my dad got under my skin about the whole moving in thing… But these past few days, it just has got me thinking. Because I love you, so much."

This time when he reached out to grab your hand, you actually leaned into it yourself. Not because you were giving in, but because this hurt. This hurt so fucking much that you needed something to ground you, or else god knows. Because the way he was speaking, it sounded so finite.

"I love you too."

"I do know, which is…is why this is so hard." At the very least, Tom had conceded that.

The conversation ceased to silence yet again. The room felt so cold; even Tom/Harry's hoodie was doing nothing to keep you from the endless empty cold that seemed to be coming from within.

"When I re-registered my health card last month, and I made you my emergency contact on it. I-I made you my next of kin on everything actually. I didn't think about it twice. And-and this-"You pulled your phone out of your back pocket, immediately pulling up the app onto the open page. "This is my Pinterest board for our baby's nursery theme. I know-" You paused, to quickly wipe your cheeks clear of the tear tracks that may or may not have been there. "I know it's probably a long way away, but I just love the Scandinavian theme." You laughed at yourself, suddenly embarrassed at your blabbering and quickly pulled up a different app. "And this… this was from the other week when I was helping Y/bf/n start her vows." Hands trembling as you turned the phone around for Tom to see again. "She was finding it really tricky so she said, what would you say to Tom on your wedding, so-so I made this list." You only dared to look at him when you were sure he'd be reading through that note.

It was bizarre because he looked… well, he looked happy. Here you were feeling traumatised, showing things that you'd barely even deeped how committed they were - and he was pleased? Feeling the fire burn once again inside of your chest, you quickly swiped the phone away and back into your pocket. Only then did he look up, eyes widening - presumably at quite how psychotic you looked.

"So don't you dare say that I don't want a future with you."

You said it with such force, there was a pause. Tom letting those words sink deep into his brain. The way his expression flickered minutely gave you hope. You thought he got it. You thought he really understood now.

"But why don't you want to move in then?"

There it was again. He knew why. But he didn't get it. And, probably, he never would.

You were about to crash completely. So you ran. As fast as your legs could carry you, not even aware of your chair crashing to the floor in your wake. You ran out of that house and away from him. Away from who you had thought was the love of your life.

?give tom a final chance w one last part?

feedback is always v v appreciated <3

tom taglist : @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08

people i think might be interestd in this (sorry if not just let me know and i'll remove the tag!!!): @obiwanownsmyass @wildxwidow @parkersvogue @coffeewithoutcaffeine @tomhollandlol @thefallenbibliophilequote @clumsymandu @hiraethenthusiast @mannien @abrielleholland @evermorehabit @niallberry @greatpizzascissorstaco @runawayolives @annathesillyfriend @letsgotothemoonlight @lovelybarnes

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 19 - Holy Ground

Masterlist; Chapter 18

Summary: In the days before the mission in Tallinn, you and Neil have a few conversations to clear the air of doubts. Only, the mission itself proves to be a disruption...

Warnings: Swearing; mild violence.

Author’s Notes: Here we go, my favourite mission (and favourite Neil outfit too). This is only part one of the Tallinn action because so much happens... as you’ll see. I’m sorry. I really am. Hope you enjoy and please leave me feedback if you feel like it!

Song mentioned is: ‘Holy Ground’ by Within Temptation (I’ll share it in a post later but basically listen to it after reading and you’ll know why I’m obsessed)

Edit is courtesy of my amazing friend @sh3tani​ once again (ilysm and thanks for everything 💕)

The upcoming days were busy. You have been assigned the task of getting hold of some of the vehicles and artillery TP wanted for the heist in Tallinn. It was difficult, not only because it is actually rather hard to acquire a fire truck with no records left from the transaction, but also because you barely had any clue what you were actually doing. And so, most of the time, you were sat at the dining table in the flat, calling various shady people Neil gave you contacts to. Sometimes, a tea would appear in front of you, courtesy of the other team members thoroughly apologizing for how they handled the ‘alley situation’.

It seemed like your late-night walk and the cold treatment you gave everyone (including Neil) for the next 24 hours afterward worked. The jokes have ended, and contrition took their place, usually in the form of extreme helpfulness, random acts of kindness, and, in Neil’s case, a break from teasing. At least for a short while.

The only development you were not so sure of was the fact that the whole team decided to label your relationship. Not just any label but dating, verging on a couple. And that was rather terrifying. It struck you especially the night before when you have minded your own business in the kitchen. Watching over the pasta boiling on the stove, you listened to the plans made by Ives. He was trying to settle on the best way to track Neil during the heist when he suddenly turned to you with a question:

“Has your boyfriend told you what kind of car they are going for in the end?” the neutral tone made you skim over the term at first.

But then your brain caught up. What?! You almost toppled over the whole pot of pasta onto the floor when trying to drain it. Fuck. Ives was staring at you quizzically, as though confused about your current state.

“I… Who?” you stammered out the question, knowing it will only make everything worse.

“Neil” Ives grinned, “Unless you’ve gone for an open relationship and there’s another boyfriend involved”

“Christ, please stop” sighing, you tried to calm down just enough to function “I believe he’s going for a BMW, don’t know what series but something fast enough just in case there was a chase” triumphantly, you poured the sauce over the noodles.

“I’ll need to give him a call about it” Ives smacked his tongue thoughtfully.

“Feel free” using the opportunity, you grabbed the cutlery and escaped into your room.

Boyfriend? Now that was something to cause anxiety. Because despite everything that happened, all the things you have told Neil and got in return, you had no clue what you were supposed to be. Not really. Yes, sometimes you let yourself entertain the idea that maybe you were together, maybe he was your lover. But… was he? Could he ever be that?

With those thoughts occupying your mind, you only managed to last until afternoon the next day before giving in. After failing to contact a car dealer for the fifth time and realising that you have completely messed up the route plan due to forgetting about important details, you closed the laptop. It was hard to think when all your brain did was give reasons for why Neil would never actually want to be with you. To summarise: you were not enough, naïve, hopeless, and dumb enough to think that someone this incredible could think about you seriously. Stifling the sudden desire to breakdown and give up on everything, you dialed his number. He picked up almost instantly.

“Yes, my love?” your heart clenched at the nickname.

“Hi… um… Do you have a moment?” you cringed at the awkwardness.

“For you? Always”

Maybe, on another day, that would have made you smile. But that was not that kind of a day.

“Neil, I’m serious,” sighing, you rested your head on the cold wall behind your bed.

“What’s wrong?” his tone switched from playful to concerned.

Okay… now there’s no turning back.

“I’ve just been thinking...�� you started, debating on the best way to breach the topic.

“Oh no”

Damn him. You cracked a small smile, knowing that was the intention. You could almost picture him at this moment, sat in some absolutely strange position in the armchair, nothing but long legs and ruffled hair. You did have it pretty bad.

“Shut up” you took a deep breath and blurted out “It’s probably stupid, and feel free to ignore this but... what even are we?”

There it is. Your whole existence hanged on his reply. But, of course, Neil needed more clarification than that…

“How do you mean?” his careful tone made your heart rate elevate.

The result was a string of sentences you shot out with the speed of a machine gun.

“Because everyone here assumes we’re dating. And Ives called you my boyfriend last night, and I don’t... I don’t know if that’s what’s going on and-”

“Okay, calm down,” he interrupted your rant “Take a deep breath” he waited until he could hear you exhale to continue “What do you want this to be? Because we’re the only people who have a say about it” the diplomatic tone made you frown.

But then maybe he just wanted to get your point of view before saying anything substantial… Trouble was you had no clue. Picking on a loose thread on your sweater, you sighed:

“I don’t know” maybe this was the right time to give him another piece of mind?  “I always hated labels because when you name something, it becomes real” you admitted, letting yourself slide down onto the pillows.

Nothing could hurt you there. Apart from potential rejection from the likely love of your life. Basically, fml, as the kids say.

“What about good things?” his question caught you off guard.

“Well, yeah, but… once there’s a couple, then there can be a break-up” the insecurity had an answer for that too.

Your cheeks heated up upon saying the word. Because even that felt like a step too far. Like maybe you were clingy. Obnoxious. Someone he could want to get rid of as quickly as possible. Before you decided to back out of the conversation, he replied:

“That’s a rather bleak way of looking at things” it was still that thoughtful tone.

A burden then.

“I know” you groaned, frustrated with yourself.

But the next thing he said was rather surprising…

“I’ll need to work on making you more optimistic. Not because I don’t like you the way you are, but because I want you to realise how wrong you are sometimes” the conviction and practical implications of the statement made you speechless.

The future tense. The admission that he did like you, with your countless issues and overbearing anxiety. It couldn’t be, could it? Neil took your stunned silence as permission to say more:

“From my side, let me say that dating doesn’t quite cut it because it implies not being sure... And…” despite yourself, your ears perked up, wanting to know what he meant.

“Yeah?” you prodded, trying to toe that precarious line between curiosity and fear of rejection.

“I’m not really in the trial stages anymore. Don’t think I’ve ever been” he clearly wanted to tell you more but was holding back.

Maybe it was for the better. Before you could think about a response to that, Neil added:

“Basically, we don’t have to use any labels. We’re just us” the simplicity of that statement broke through your resolve, making tears well up “Me and you. We know best what that implies and no one else matters” quietly, you sobbed, and he laughed before choosing to put that final nail in the metaphorical coffin “You’re my love, and that’s the only nickname I need” Neil sounded happy, as though despite your worries, he wanted to say that “I can be your idiot, as long as I’m yours” the punchline came with an audible smug smile.

Oh my god. You laughed, with tears still silently falling down your cheeks and heart hammering in your chest. He was impossible. Absolutely impossible. Suddenly asking that crucial question was not that scary. Because maybe today was the day when would tell you, without alcohol or worries prompting the confession. Taking the plunge, you spoke:

“Neil, do you-”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted you with an answer.

“I haven’t even asked the question” you frowned, unsure whether that kind of an answer was better than a confession.

Because, yes, he already said it once (almost twice), but both those have been anything but thoughtful. And your ever doubting brain was quick to use that fact against you.

“But I know the answer” he sounded certain.

Perhaps too certain.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to tell you over the phone” Neil sighed heavily on the other end “Listen, I have to go… but call me or text if you need to talk” he hesitated before adding, “No matter what I want you to remember what I said that night in London”

Oh… It was the first time any of you brought it up. You just assumed it was one of the things that just slipped out in an unguarded moment. You wanted it to be true, but then that was too risky. But maybe not…?

“I heard you” you whispered despite being alone in the room.

“I know” you could picture the soft smile he sometimes gave you “Goodbye, my love. Good luck with work” at the reminder of the piles of papers still waiting, you groaned, causing him to laugh.

“Will be needed since what you’ve assigned me is close to impossible” the change of the topic was dearly welcomed.

Grabbing the laptop again, you opened it up and felt all the motivation dissolve upon the sight of the route waiting to be planned. Coffee will be needed. And maybe whiskey too.

“I believe in you,” Neil broke your brooding with a comment, “And it’s not really me who assigned it” you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, idiot” unable to stop the grin on your face, you ended the call.

So maybe it was worth calling… Even if only to learn that he was in fact yours. And that he did not mind your insecurity or moments of anxiety. Maybe all this had some more potential than heartbreak and tragedy? Ignoring all the thoughts, you focused on the workload. After all, someone had to get all those bloody vehicles on time for the boys to play with.

*** The closer it got to the day, you could feel the tensions rising within the team. Partially it was your own fault and the fact that you were nervous. The plan was vague enough. What you and Ives’ squad knew was that TP intended to take over the plutonium 241 on the move, specifically on the highway leading out of the city. For some reason, he needed a fire truck and a firefighter suit for that. You had no clue why, but you blamed it on the boyish dreams of being a firefighter. Sure they all had those.

Neil was simply the designated driver and mission coordinator, and you hoped that meant he would stay out of harm. As much as that was possible for an idiot like him. You were not allowed to meet to stop TP from getting suspicious, and so all you could do was rely on texts and daily phone calls to keep you from going insane. The downside of the situation was that you could not slap Neil when he said questionable things. Examples being referring to the heist car as sexy (“And what if I told that it’s not the BMW that’s sexy?” “I’d be flattered”) and calling you his girlfriend on the call with Ives. That second incident resulted in the squad leader acting all smug because he apparently ‘figured it all out’. He did not, but who were you to prove him wrong.

And so, you perfected the plan, finished all the assigned tasks, and waited on instructions concerning the day of the mission. When they came, the message was simple – sit on your assess and wait, just in case the Cavalry was needed. You did not specifically like that ‘waiting’ part. Especially since Ives began insisting that you do not actually join them in the field. In his mind, the safest place for you was the flat. Not being a part of the squad and not having enough experience were the main factors acting against you. And you hated the fact that he was right. That is until the evening before the mission when an unexpected text from TP came. You were busy trying to understand the rules of a strange competition show on the television when your phone buzzed. Expecting something nonsensical from Neil, you picked it up instantly. Only to get shocked by the number on display. The message was straightforward:

“Join the squad in the field in Tallinn. You must be there”

Right… When you were asking the universe for help, you did not expect that. But it was better than nothing.

Without a further ado, you got up and wandered over to Ives, who was sat with Wheeler and Michael at the table. Upon your approach, the Brit looked up:

“Don’t tell me you’ve got some last-minute changes from Neil” his blue eyes were hazed with concern.

“No, I’ve got something better” you passed him the phone and waited for a response.

The widened stare and arched eyebrow was the initial reaction.

“He wouldn’t have sent if it wasn’t important” you added, hoping to win the case.

“I don’t get it” Ives sighed heavily, leaning back in the chair.

He glanced at Michael, who nodded and left the room. You just assumed that the discussion was not meant for any ordinary squad member.

“Apologies for my language, but you’re not a bloody soldier, and it might get rough out there” Ives spoke up again after a beat “And I don’t want to fucking worry about your safety amidst all the other mess” he met your gaze warily.

It was a little embarrassing to be considered a burden. You flinched internally before trying another approach.

“I know, but Neil might need me” as soon as you said the words, Ives scowled.

Of course, that just sounded like a lovesick teenager fighting for a hopeless case. And you hated that. But his very next words triggered the remains of resolve.

“Frankly, darling-”

You broke into a laugh, knowing the quotation well.

“I swear, if you quote Gone with the Wind right now, I’ll do something stupid” as a warning, you grabbed hold of the knife lying on the table, making Wheeler snicker quietly “Please, let me go out there. I can track his GPS signal or something. And well, you know that I’ve got a good aim. It might count for something” pleading was not your forte either but at the end of the speech, Ives’ gaze softened.

Maybe? He sighed once again before leaning his forehead on the folded forearms on the table.

“If you get hurt, he’ll kill me” he muttered gloomily.

“You’re exaggerating” you bit back a dry chuckle.

“No, he’s not” your head snapped up at the sound of Wheeler’s voice “But I’ve got to back you here if TP sent that text, then it’s probably important” she looked at you with a small smile.

“Thank you” you grinned back, grateful for the support.

With the days spent among men almost exclusively, Wheeler’s company meant a lot. Soon she became the only person you were willing to discuss your worries with. Because she was not keen on cracking dumb jokes about your relationship and asked questions that did not only concern Neil. And that was a welcomed change.

“You really need to be careful though, because Neil cares about you. Which probably makes you the most important person on this squad” her voice broke through your thoughts.

You knew she meant well, but the statement still made your cheeks heat up. Because did he really care?

“Don’t. You’re making me all flustered” deciding you’ve had enough of the awkwardness you got up to fix a tea.

“Well, I’m only speaking the truth here” turning back to the table, you saw Wheeler shrug “The physics boy took his fancy upon you, and that’s no funny business” she grinned at your perplexed expression.

Briefly, you glanced at Ives, who seemed to have given up on fighting with you and instead was listening in to the conversation with a neutral facial expression. The kettle boiling was your cue to respond:

“Great” semi-aggressively, you threw the tea bag into the mug poured the water “Did he though?” you asked, not even looking at them or expecting an answer.

“Yep,” Wheeler stood up and gave you a quick reassuring shoulder squeeze.

“I’ve never seen him like this before” Ives added once you turned to face him again.

That tea could not brew any longer…

“Not even with…” you hesitated before adding quietly, “Alex?”

“Not quite,” the man gave you an enigmatic smile, only increasing your frustration “You’ve convinced me though. You’re coming with us. Just please, for the sake of my sanity, be careful out there” you resisted the urge to jump up in relief “Because I’d rather not deal with an angry Neil. He’s a pain in the ass enough” Ives added darkly before getting up and joining you by the kitchen counter.

Smiling, you finished the tea.

“Thanks. I’ll do my best” playfully, you nudged his shoulder with yours “You can always blame me though” picking up the mug, you turned towards the corridor.

“As though he’d care” Ives muttered at your back.

The sudden surge of confidence was surprising yet also inspiring:

“I’d make him care. There are some things even he can’t say no to”

The last thing you heard upon closing the door to the bedroom was Ives choking on water.

*** The Tallinn mission for you began with an early morning phone call from Neil. You got as far as getting out of bed after having been staring at the ceiling anxiously for the past three hours when the phone rang.

“Morning,” you muttered, stifling a yawn.

Espresso was certainly needed. Maybe two, before you would have to head out.

“Hey,” the soft tone felt like a mild punch “I’m glad you’re up already” Neil’s sleepy voice made you wish you could wake up together again.

There was always that slightly husky tinge to it, the way he lazily pronounced some words just because it was early still. So different from the enthusiastic overenunciation when he was preaching another messed up plan of his. Or the cheeky inflections he tended to use with you during banter. It was terrifyingly easy to get to know him that well because of how open he was with you.

“I couldn’t sleep. But it’s okay I’ll manage” you admitted, distracting yourself from the sudden thoughts “I didn’t tell you last night, but I got another text from TP… he wants me to join the squad today”

From the moment you have shut the bedroom door the previous night, you have debated calling Neil about it. But then he initiated another rather amusing texting exchange focusing on his fashion choices, and you felt bad disrupting the peace. It could wait. Not anymore. You held your breath until Neil responded with a simple question:

“Why?” he was careful, and you could not blame him for it.

You perched on the windowsill and looked out at the quiet cityscape. The streets were strangely empty for a weekday morning. Sighing, you answered in the best way possible:

“I don’t know, but Ives said yes after some coaxing, so I might see you out there” smiling despite yourself, you waited for his response.

Since recently you had to rely on phone calls, it became increasingly easy to determine his mood based on the tone of the reply. Or on the various nonverbal noises he sometimes made. Now there was a quiet hum proceeding the sentence. A surprise, mild confusion, and worry. Brilliant.

“As much as I’m happy we might meet… and that you can see me in that sexy car,” you rolled your eyes awaiting the point “Please, be careful. I need you safe”

It was not disappointing. You knew he did not intend it that way, and yet the anxiety fuelled brain was onto it instantly. I need you… safe. Unable to stop the comment, you muttered:

“Just safe, then”

“What?” any hope that he might have missed it dissolved with that single question.

Could he for once not listen to what you say? You know, like men tended to do. But then Neil was by no means an ordinary man.

“Nothing. Don’t mind me” the attempt at saving your dignity failed too.

“I thought it goes without saying that I do need you. And that I want you”

Oh god. At once, you wanted to smash your head into the wall and to kiss the bastard for being the way he was. Adding to that sentence, the mental image of his sheepish smile was enough to make your heart speed up. When the silence stretched, becoming awkward, you whispered a reply.

“It’s good to hear it sometimes” the coldness of the window glass cooled off your blazed cheeks, “Especially when I don’t actually believe it” he knew that by now, undoubtedly.

Here the nonverbal cue was a half-choked sigh. Annoyance. Frustration.

“You should. I don’t go around telling everyone that” Neil’s confident voice was trying to pull you back “And I certainly don’t have moments as we do with anyone else” at the implication, you felt flustered again.

Because there did not an hour go by without you thinking about what happened. The pull between you was startling at times. The absolute desire you felt. The way Neil knew exactly how to make you remember every second of every moment. With the memories flooding your brain, you could only utter a single question:

“Why me?”

It was curiosity. Because apart from that evening months ago when you first tried to make sense of your budding relationship, he never said why he cared about you. And you would never dare ask. But now, with everything that happened, it was worth trying. And Neil was willing to deliver:

“I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because you’re the bravest, kindest, most beautiful person I know” you could only keep on listening with your mouth agape “You fascinate me, and I want to discover all that you’re willing to give me” he finished in a reverent whisper.

That was not what you expected to hear. Not now. Not ever. Speechless, you wondered whether maybe this time it was not a mistake to give your heart away. It was too late. He had everything but your body; that was just a matter of time.

“Neil, I…” this was all you could manage, afraid you would give away another confession.

“Well, you’ve asked,” he chuckled lightly and then asked, “Are you okay?” you could picture that crease between furrowed eyebrows.

“I suppose-” a loud knock on your door interrupted the sentence; it was time, “I think I should probably join them for the final briefing…” hesitantly, you jumped off the sill.

Only two of you could be interrupted during such an important conversation.

“Go, I won’t keep you. Believe me, though, when I say that I want nothing but to be with you. In every way possible” your breath hitched at the connotation behind the sentiment.

Jesus, this man…

“That’s rather mutual,” like a secret you passed it to him on a sigh “But only when you’re not an ass” that was a much-needed distraction for you both.

There was work to be done, after all. You could hear the commotion in the apartment rise in volume and strength.

“I’ll do my best then. Good luck, darling” you grinned at the nickname he was determined to use.

Darling, you could do with. It was better than the ‘love’ that always made you feel like you were just another one among many.

“Don’t do anything stupid I still owe you a few slaps… and a payback” you added the necessary suggestive tone to the last word.

The rest was up to him to figure out. Which he did, if the pleased laughed was anything to go by.

“I’m very much looking forward to all of those” you missed that smirk.

“You should. Bye, my idiot,” you debated saving his number as that in your phone.

Maybe it was the way forwards.

“My love,” laughing, you ended the call when he uttered the words just for the sake of it.

But then that was Neil’s essence – doing things just because. Or to get a reaction from you. And you would not have it any other way.

*** Only when sitting in that bloody SUV, you learned the true meaning of waiting. And how much you hated to do that. There was nothing to do apart from sweating in the protective gear and avoiding the awkward small talk others were susceptible to. The squad has cramped into two non-descript vehicles, and you being the so-called precious cargo, ended up in the same car with Ives who have sworn to protect you. Only, for the first half-hour, there was nothing to protect you from. Apart from anxiety, boredom, and frustration.

Your role was rather simple – follow Neil’s signal on the map to know where you might be needed should he call for backup. As much as you did enjoy the possibility of tracking his movements somehow, you did not appreciate the cheeky smile Ives had on his face when he gave you the job. Or the comment combined with it: “Well, he’s your boyfriend, it’s only fair you keep him on the metaphorical leash here”. That is how the small blinking dot on the map of Tallinn became your sole focus for the past hour. Just before everything kicked off, Neil radioed you with a simple message: The mission is about to start. Wait for further instructions.

Ever since your morning phone call and the revelations that came out, you only exchanged a few texts concerning the practicalities of the action. Despite the nerves, you did hope to see him in near future. Even if just to check whether what he said was true. Looking for a distraction from the sudden thoughts, you glanced at the screen again. They were near, on the main junction of the highway, heading towards the port. Your SUVs were parked underneath a small overpass, five minutes away in the current traffic conditions. Which proved to be convenient, as it turned out.

“Is he still following the set route?” Ives’s question brought you to the present moment.

“Yeah, they’re-” you glanced to double-check the exact location when you realised that something has changed.

The dot was not moving. It was still blinking, but clearly, they have stopped at a crossing. Traffic lights? Your brain somehow knew that it could not be that simple. You opened your mouth to voice the thoughts when the comm came alive on the dashboard with static crackling:

“We need back up here. ASAP”

“Roger that” Ives tossed you the radio “Ask him about the details”

Without waiting for more information, Michael fired up the SUV engine as Ives contacted the second vehicle.

“Neil” you spoke into the receiver “What happened?” you flinched at the louder noise from the radio.

Gunshots?

“We’ve been ambushed by Sator’s people. TP’s status unknown”

Bloody brilliant. Swallowing down the rising worries, you asked another question:

“How many people?” another gunshot pierced the silence.

“Not sure. They’ve gotten clean up orders” a strained breath from Neil told you how bad the situation was.

“Okay. We’ll be there soon” you glanced at the road ahead.

Still, 2 mins to go. Anxiety was threatening to overpower you at any moment. But now was not the time.

“Hurry up” Neil closed the channel with a final dose of static.

Fuck… Forcing a deeper breath, you could only watch as you got closer to him. The sheer thought of something happening to Neil was unimaginable. That was enough to trigger panic. So you pushed the idea to the back of your head, focusing on the distance disappearing.

There was no mistaking the fact that you have been led to the right place. Crashed cars, asphalt littered with glass shards and broken parts, gunshots piercing the air. The destination looked like a car pile-up from an action sequence. Frantically looking through the windows, you tried to spot that blonde head. To no avail. The SUV came to a sharp halt as the squad members began jumping out of the vehicle. Once everyone else disembarked, you moved to follow them, only to be stopped by Ives:

“You’re staying here. I can’t have you out in the shoot-out” his blue gaze was stern, hand blocking exit out of the car.

The idea that you were so close to Neil and could not see him was enough to make you angry.

“I can handle myself. And he’s-” you spit out the words in the face of the squad leader while trying to push him away.

“I said no. The conversation’s over” with a final glare, he stepped away and scanned the horizon for immediate danger “If someone approaches the car, you know what to do,” he threw as a parting remark and disarmed the rifle.

Fucking hell! Groaning in frustration, you kicked one of the seats. He was so close. You glanced at the device in your hand. He could not be further than behind the first line of crashed cars. Biting on your lip harshly, you quickly went over the options. One was to obey Ives and stay inside the bloody SUV like a well-behaved child everyone apparently took you for. No one seemed to care about the vehicles you parked on the outskirts of the action. Flinching at the further salve from the heavy artillery, you knew that the squad had joined the fray. You could be safe here… but… Taking a deep breath you knew there was no possibility you could stay away from the action. Not when Neil was there, potentially in danger. It was not possible to give up on someone that important just because you were told to. Christ…

Glancing through the windows again, you could see Sator’s people attempting to clear the place. The squad evidently attempted to push at them from one side, hoping to get a clean sweep that way. Then, just as you were about to go back to the internal crisis overwhelming your thoughts, you did a double-take. Surely not? You would recognize that hair colour everywhere. There he was attempting what was looking like a skirting manoeuvre to circle the mercenaries with the Cavalry on the opposite side. Only that left him completely uncovered, in the direct line of fire. Bloody idiot. The instinct to jump out and run to him kicked in. The only thing holding you back was the fact that you would disobey the orders. And leave the car unguarded. All the hesitation disappeared once the comm in the car crackled with static:

“Emergency assistance needed. ASAP” the tension in his voice made your pulse quicken.

The lack of response from the team made all the blood drain from your face. You could see him trying to hide behind some overturned car. The henchmen were near enough to get him with no problem.

That thought was all the convincing you needed. Swearing, you quickly pocketed the tracking device, adjusted your protective gear, and grabbed the gun. You have been offered a rifle (just in case), but you preferred the classic. At least it was something right?

In two leaps, you have covered the distance. With the team trying to get through the attack line on the other side, it was just you and Neil. You shot a round in the direction of the approaching merc, missing the target yet earning attention from the main object of your focus. His eyes met yours across the plane. You could see shock, worry, and something else there. Suddenly a salve whizzed past you. The bullets cutting through the air all around, shooting past your head and piercing the car behind. A strangled yell from Neil was a surprising reaction, yet you did not blink twice. He was all you could see. With a final surge through the field, you reached him. The pure fury and anguish in his eyes took you aback. Have you missed something? But there was no time to ask questions.

“Go, I’ll cover you” you whispered, looking at the approaching group of mercs.

Neil took an additional moment to stare at you as though he could not quite believe you were there. But then he jumped up, aiming the gun at the man closest to you. The same that undoubtedly attempted to take you out seconds prior. When the mercenary fell with a bullet in the head, you stared in shock. There was no time to recover as Neil pushed through, barely looking behind at you. It was surprisingly easy to tune out the emotions, taking out anyone who could threaten him or halt your advances. You worked well together, movements in sync enough to stun the opponents on a few occasions. For a second, you wondered whether it was only bound to get better the closer you get to each other. That was certainly an interesting idea… In no time you have met with the line of the squad, watching on as Ives dealt with the last man standing. You have won. The adrenaline started to leave your body, resulting in tremors and shaking hands. Clutching the gun to prevent it from cluttering to the ground, you met the exasperated gaze of the squad leader. Your only response was a shrug. You did not regret the decision, seeing as you have evidently helped them in the field.

“Neil? Do you know where TP is?” Ives took his attention off you and looked at the blonde man.

You followed his gaze, for the first time actually looking at Neil since you spotted him across the plane. At the moment, you were struck by what a sight he was. Navy shirt with sleeves rolled up to expose the forearms covered with veins. The same tie he had on during your walk. Your pulse quickened. The vest drawing attention to the ratio between his broad shoulders and narrow hips, accentuated with a belt. Brown loose-cut trousers and scrapped leather shoes adding a classy touch. You were aware that you were staring yet unable to look away. Not knowing whether to blame it on the adrenaline rush, you wanted nothing but to touch him. Take off those driving gloves that piqued your interest at the first sight. Or have them be wrapped around your throat with just enough pressure. Get rid of the tie again. And…

“Think Sator took him” Neil’s response broke through your increasingly hazy thoughts.

Shaking off the images that started appearing, you looked up at his face again. The ruffled hair and flushed cheeks were not helpful. Fuck’s sake. It had to be stress. Because what else?

“Their place in the port?” Ives asked, his tone nothing but strict business.

“That’s my bet” Neil shrugged, looking around with something dark in his eyes.

He was tense, like a feral animal that could lash out any moment. You were not wrong. The cold blue gaze settled on you almost remorsefully, but before you could open your mouth, he snapped:

“What the fuck were you thinking?” the hostile edge to his voice was new.

You flinched as though you have been hit. The lack of physical impact did not matter. Your heart stammered. He need not explain what it was about. Please no.

“You needed a cover. They weren’t responding, so I did the obvious” you shrugged, feeling the anger grow “And I could ask you the same question” spitting the sentence into his face, you took a step closer.

You have never seen him that furious. Not even in Oslo after your little fuck-up. The sight was both terrifying and alluring. The dark blue eyes blazed with fury. Jaw clenched. Slight pink tint on the cheeks. And yet, still, you had no idea why he reacted like this.

“I knew what I was doing. That’s the difference” the coldness of his voice threw you off.

So it was real. He did mean it. You tried to save him, and here he was, pissed off at you. Making you almost regret it. Almost, because the love was there too. Not giving away no matter what.

“That’s bullshit” it felt good to admit, “You were reckless, as always, and expecting me to-” your rant got interrupted by a strangled yell.

Nothing prepared you for the revelation then. Or the sudden anguish on his face.

“You were almost shot!” Neil’s eyes glistened as though he was close to tears.

Suddenly it made sense. The rain of bullets you were hit with just before getting to him. The way he reacted. But you made it. Nothing happened. So why was he acting like that?

“Almost” ignoring the growing pain in your chest, you pointed out the obvious.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Ives and the rest of the squad observing you. You would rather not have an audience, but then Neil seemed determined to drive his point forward. His face scrunched into a pained scowl.

“Fucking hell,” turning away from your gaze, his back tensed even more “You can’t do shit like that just because I’m involved” the defensive tone took you aback.

What? It was getting worse. You could feel the confidence leaving your body as you struggled for a response. You would never think Neil would do something like that. Not after everything you have told him. Figuring out the only way you that could work, you took your own line of attack.

“Who says I did it only because it was you?” the implication hurt because it was partially correct “Quite an ego you’ve got there” his back was still turned to you.

That angered you even more. Crossing the distance, you placed your hand on his shoulder, making him turn to you. He flinched upon the contact as though your touch burned him. Oh my god. The tears welled up in your eyes. It could not be real. But the emotionless look in the eyes you thought you knew was very much real. It was as though before you realised Neil has built up a wall, guarding himself against you. And there was nothing you could do to get through. You got shocked by the cruel smirk that split his face.

“I can see the way you look at me. As though you wanted to-” you interrupted him sharply.

“Neil”

It was too much. Perhaps because it was true. But he was not done. Persistent to keep going.

“Admit it. It’s because you said some things, and now you can’t bear the thought of losing the object of your affection” the careless tone and the words pierced your heart with gut-wrenching pain “Well, you see, sometimes feelings need to be put aside” he added, almost casually.

Fuck. You gasped, unable to keep a straight face. He might as well see what he has done. Some things. So this is how much your confession meant to him. Good to know. You wanted to slap him, but you felt like that could turn back on you. So instead, you made sure to straighten your back, putting on the familiar mask of neutrality. You have done this before. Probably should have expected it. Only why did it hurt ten times more?

“Can we leave the bloody lovers quarrel till later?” Ives’s voice pierced through the tension.

But you were not ready. Raising your hand in a stopping motion, you turned back to Neil. His face was terrifyingly indifferent. Maybe it was all an act. Or maybe it was just that easy for him to get over whatever you thought you had. A lie. Gathering the smithereens of confidence, you forced a levelled tone:

“Says you. As though you’re acting out of reason right now” you gave him your best impression of the sneer visible on his face.

You could crumble at any moment now. Only the pounding in your ears and the wounded pride were keeping you upwards. But Neil wanted to destroy everything.

“More than you” he glanced at the team waiting impatiently “I really thought you’d know better than this” the punchline was more than you could take.

No. Please no. Your knees buckled, and you swayed. But then you caught the flash of concern in his eyes. Just for a split of a second. So it was not all cold and hatred? You heard Ives huff out a string of curses. There was no time for this. Whatever it even was. Honesty it was then.

“Better than to give away my heart to someone like you? Evidently not” you met his eyes for the final time before walking away in the direction of the SUVs.

The shock you saw in Neil’s face was enough to fuel the survival instincts. With the heart broken or not, the mission was still on. And the rest was silence.

[thejoshuaglenn-blog]

You're a Good Boy, Charlie Brown

The key purpose of a Tumblr blog here is really a brain dump: logging thoughts, feelings, narrative and such is easier in long form than via a brief Facebook post that generates half a dozen "oh no, what happened" comments. As I'm writing this, most of it seems like bullet points and organized timelines. If you're looking for a TL;DR or current state of thoughts, it's the last section titled The Day After, and the Day After That.

A few days ago, Niko and I said goodbye to our first dog, Charlie Brown.

I'm not keen to chat about it a lot. There's more to process than I have time to type; most of it centers around being fair to myself and to Niko, taking the time to appreciate his life without beating ourselves up, and avoiding the overwhelming mire that grief can become.

Joining the Family

CB was a rescue, a hapless victim of the 2016 Louisiana floods and a happy-go-lucky participant in a "dog for a day" event hosted by a local shelter. I fully expected to rent him out for a day, give him a few great experiences, and return him. For myriad reasons, we never did bring him back to Pet Rescue by Judy, and he's been with us ever since.

At adoption, he was estimated to be around 4-8 years old. With a kicked-in shoulder that offset his collarbone and ribcage, some assorted dental issues, and other little signs of damage (cigarette burns, what the heck is wrong with people), it was tough to really gauge his age. That means he left this world at the ripe old age of something like 9-13, which isn't terrible considering all he'd been through.

Charlie Brown was the iconic good boy. He seldom barked, he never licked or jumped, and just wanted to be in the same room as his favorite people. He had a few toys that he cherished, never ripping them up, just carrying them with him from room to room and whining a bit, unsure of where he could store them for safekeeping. Apart from some separation anxiety issues and an occasional urge to bolt out the door and book it as far as he could, CB was by all accounts an easy first dog: more like a low-effort cat than anything else.

Slowly Falling Apart

Over time, the health issues increased. Intermittent but predictably regular upset tummy. Bad gums, bad teeth. Random gooey skin lesion. Eye ulcers. Since October, we've been averaging 2-3 unplanned vet visits a month — many incurring some hefty bills. We'd take out another credit card, find another financing plan, but it adds up. So does the emotional toil on the family; so does the anxiety toll on the dog.

You start to think about quality of life for the dog, you know? He'd had a few teeth removed to sew up his gums after they kinda detached and fell apart from his jawbone — so he couldn't chew anything hard. Couldn't even chew a tennis ball, which was the only toy he took interest in anymore. Couldn't have any fun treats like peanut butter or other soft chews, as his tummy would have bad flare-ups that usually ended up with him attached to an IV bag. After finally settling in and learning to play well with Atlas, Charlie Brown started to get pretty irritable whenever Atlas got frisky.

He still loved running around outdoors, and was in otherwise great health.

I can't tell you how guilty that makes me feel, even now.

Moving to Waltham

Before we left Orlando, there were so many crisis moments in emergency vet offices where Niko and I talked about how long he could ride this roller coaster. CB obviously was not a fan of vet visits: loved the staff, but was notably anxious and panicky when separated from us, and he had grown very loathe to the process of poking, prodding, and whatnot.

Shortly after moving to Waltham (he was a champ in the U-Haul), Charlie Brown had a severe colitis flare-up. He was losing so much fluid and was growing very lethargic over the day. Vets are hard to get into these days: with the sweep of "pandemic puppy" adoptions, the vet industry as a whole is saturated with demand, and practices are responding as best they can. There were just no emergency clinics available to us within 20 miles, except one that noted "we have no availability, but you can come and wait, and we might be able to see you in 4 or 5 hours." So we did.

It was a very late night. Charlie Brown came home with us with another round of the same antibiotics he'd been taking almost regularly since December for his assorted ailments, and some probiotics. The next day, CB seemed a bit better and brighter, and Niko and I went into the city for part of the day. We came home to find he'd had an accident, but it was just... blood. So so much. And he looked so in pain, so ashamed, so guilty, so anxious.

So we went back to the vet ER. It was another very late night. I didn't know how many of these late nights we could afford; neither of us knew how many of these late nights it was fair to expect Charlie Brown to endure.

Do you plan on letting a pet go after an extended crisis visit? Do you plan on letting a pet go in a time of relative peace?

Camping Analogy, and a Best Last Day

When you're off on a long hike, and you see daylight start to fade as the sun begins to set, you begin to think about finding a good place to set up camp for the night. It's abysmal to do this after the sun has already gone down: where you could have had preparation and structure, you have chaos by flashlight.

A dog's life is in your hands. You're his whole world: all food, adventure, pampering, challenge, treatment, and care come from you. More than anything, we wanted Charlie Brown to have a peaceful, restful life. Now that we started thinking about it, we wanted to be able to give him a peaceful, restful passing as well: not as the climax of another overnight crisis with injections and yelps and beeps and cowering and anxiety and fear, but in the still quiet of familiar sounds and smells.

His very last day was a great one. Fresh Pond in Cambridge: a massive stroll around a colossal lake with an absurd bounty of new smells, kind people, happy dogs, and a brisk New England breeze. He got to swim in a little side pond — that boy lived for jumping into random lakes. He ran around the broad field that is Kingsley Bowl, chasing a thrown ball the very very farthest his sad pop could throw it — and he brought it back. We bought him a steak. We told him how much he brought to our lives.

And then we waited.

Lap of Love is a sort of home delivery service of dignified passing for pets. There's more to say on that hour than I care to pen, but throughout the procedure, we never left him. Charlie Brown passed enveloped in our arms and laps and sobs and hugs.

The Day After, and the Day After That

The rest is just thoughts. Your head starts to feel like a coffee shop where your grief comes in, sits at a table with you, and unloads. You nod, listen, and wish them well. I hope I can keep processing this way — I find it helpful, and less overwhelming.

I wish he had been able to play with his tennis ball more. Since his jaw surgery — even out on Kingsley Bowl, nearly a month and a half after he should have been fully healed — any kind of chewing would cause renewed bleeding and pain.

I wish we had hugged him more. But truth be told, he didn't like hugs. They made him uncomfortable. So we gave him a hand to lay his head on, or a knee for him to pop his head upon, as often as he liked.

There were so many times I felt inconvenienced by owning a dog at all. They weren't the majority, but... now each remembered time feels like a splinter of selfishness.

I miss how familiar the back of his neck felt under my hand, just behind the ears, where the waves of fur meet and crash and make a long cowlick of foof and fluff.

His happy smile and his stressed smile were very similar, but you could still tell which was which.

I loved being there for him in thunderstorms.

When you think about it, we sort of were hospice care for him. We weren't his original owners; we just wanted the rest of his life to be painless and fulfilling. He had so many trust issues when he first came to us. And in the end, he loved anyone he met.

I miss feeling around with my feet to make sure I don't step on him on my way to bed. I miss setting my feet on the floor as I wake, stooping down, and giving his head a good squishy rub.

He never did get to see Boston snow. I mean... thousands of dogs never get to see snow. But I was really looking forward to sharing that experience with him.

I wanted so badly to bring him to a point of health, and then say goodbye when he was feeling well. Seeing him have his Best Last Day, part of me whispered "murderer" with cold accuracy, and I have a hard time shaking it. He was so happy — but between jaw bleeding after playing with a tennis ball, seeing him scratch his eyes that were starting to ache with ulcers again... I know the unbridled happiness came with the reality of his declining health.

Atlas was the best thing that ever happened to that boy. I know Charlie Brown was at least a little disgruntled that his easy-going day-to-day had been interrupted by a chompy puppy, but Atlas brought out the young pup in CB: ripping palm fronds to shreds, playing tug, playing tag, meeting new dogs with confidence and assurance.

I used to get so mad at my mother-in-law for feeding Charlie Brown cinnamon donuts. I wish I'd given him more. Heck, I wish I'd given him more peanut butter. I'm frankly surprised he hadn't died of peanut butter overdose years ago.

Where Charlie's health had limits, we kept going with Atlas. That might mean taking Atlas out to play with a ball or a tug toy, because CB couldn't. It breaks my heart now to think of Charlie at the glass door just watching it happen, all because he physically couldn't play the same. I know he didn't understand that.

We took him out to Park Ave maybe once or twice. I wish it had been more. Truth be told, it was the same as the dog park, though: he was kind of a loner. Loads of people or dogs made him anxious. So while I might idealize the past and wish he had sat at our legs for lunch after lunch at an outdoor thoroughfare, ... I think he would have been miserable. I think he would have rather just curled up at the base of the couch and dozed while we watched a show.

He was so trusting. I could just drag him onto his back and onto my lap for cuddles and a good tummy rub. No complaints.

He looked so gaunt these past few months. I keep looking at earlier photos, and I really didn't realize just how grizzly and drawn he had become lately.

I miss seeing him randomly waiting for me outside the bathroom door — or curled up on the bath mat while I was in the shower, having sneakily nosed the door open and wanting my company while I was rinsing.

For his first few years with us, he was incredibly playful. I've been going through old videos — it's like going outside just blew his mind, and toys were either for cherishing daintily, or thrashing about and throwing to oneself and gnawing. He lost that after a time. He regained it a bit when Atlas joined the party. But it still faded. I'm sure that's inevitable, but it makes me sad to see the early vibrant puppy in those old recordings, and how different he had been in recent months.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 122

122

Lance made himself comfortable in the infirmary room he’d be using for the next few days. Coran had gone to fetch Keith after hooking him up with an IV line. Keith would freak, but they’d deal with that when he came. Pulling the blankets up to his shoulders, Lance rolled to face the door, left arm extended so he didn’t hurt himself with cannula, and a bucket had been found up in case he felt nauseous. He wanted Coran to hurry up and bring Keith down so they could talk, and so he’d have his boyfriend’s scent instead of disinfectant and cleanliness... He also wanted Keith to arrive before he fell asleep again, which he was in danger of doing with the extra blankets Coran had brought him.

When Keith finally did arrive, Lance was fighting to stay awake. His boyfriend freezing in the doorframe, Lance knowing his anger loaf was leaping to bad conclusions

“I’m okay, come over here”

“What are you... Coran, you said he was resting...”

“Ah, yes, well. I did think it best to Lance explain things after our little talk. I’ll leave you boys be”

Keith continued hovering near the door as Coran left

“Babe, come over here. I can’t talk to you when you’re so far away”

“You’ve got an IV in... Did...”

Lance found the strength to answer firmly yet softly

“Nothing happened. I want to talk to you, and... It’s not bad. Please will you just get over here and hug me already?”

Keith finally moved. Coming over to him, his boyfriend took his hand, Lance interlacing their fingers so he couldn’t escape being close to him

“Why?”

That was a good question. One he didn’t blame Keith for. He’d be flipping out if their roles were reversed

“I’m going to stay here for a couple of days”

Keith’s face crumpled with guilt

“I...”

“No. Nope. Nooo. You are not to blame. I... I’m having a little bit of trouble with my mental health and I asked Coran if I could stay”

“Because I didn’t do...”

“Keith. I know you’re blaming yourself. You take such good care of me, but... Today really was the last straw. I lived alone for a long time. You know that. And I love all you guys, but I’ve been feeling... feeling suffocated. Today I wanted to have the scan with just us there, but I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings with how considerate of me you’re all trying to be. You aren’t to blame. You love me and you’ve been trying your hardest to show it and I love you for it. I love you. But I need... I need a little space from having someone always shadowing me. Rieva and Curtis... even Shiro, I was feeling so tired that I started directing all that inside me because instead of asking for what I wanted, everyone was trying to tell me what they think I needed. We both have issues, babe, and that’s okay, but mine are a bit big at the moment so I need to slow down... Coran was supposed to tell you I was okay, but I guess he really did think we needed to talk to this out together”

Bringing Keith’s hand up, Lance kissed the back of it. He knew the importance of making sure Keith understood that he hadn’t been to blame for Lance’s mental issues

“You are amazing. I love you. I’m not here because of you. I’m here because I need a bit of a break... but not from you”

Keith still looked downcast. Maybe he needed a tiny break from Keith worrying but not from his boyfriend

“I noticed... that you’ve been pulling away”

“That’s because I feel so many things and my head is going round and round trying to work it all out”

“I just want to be there...”

Keith had the softest heart. It hurt to talk, but things left unsaid would only fester

“And you are. You’re my precious boyfriend. It took me my whole undead life to find you. I’m not unsure about us. I’m just tired of being fussed over non-stop like I’m not trying or not listening to my body. The IV line is there so I rest and I eat. I know it doesn’t work like a human, but I do get nutrients from the blood bag. I really need to get my head around what’s happening with my body and work out how to move forward again with you to make a life for our babies”

Twins weren’t planned. Their first baby wasn’t planned. Two really threw him for a loop

“I don’t want to lose you”

God. Keith was so cute. So very sweet. How anyone could have hurt him was beyond Lance’s comprehension. Once things had settled down and if they were still together, he was totally putting a ring on Keith’s finger when the time was finally right. He’d finally settled with his feelings over being so much older than his boyfriend. Keith was so young with so much life. He might not age on the outside but they’d mature further together.

“You’re not going to. I’m not going to wake up and let you go. Everyone knows this pregnancy is a little different and everyone is worrying for both of us. I just need a break from their worry for a little bit to calm down. I could see it too, you know, how you worried over them worrying about me. I’m so tired all of the time that waking up to eat sometimes leaves me exhausted... but then I think about this and us, and I love you and them even more. So instead of sleeping at home, I’ll be sleeping here and it only until after Halloween”

Keith’s bottom lip quivered, his boyfriend finally moving to hug him

“I hate seeing you in here”

“I know. But you’re the love of my life, Keith Kogane. I’m going to talk to Coran some more. I don’t think I’ve told you how much he helped after turning. I’ve had problems off and on since... and I know I’ve told you that. I’m having problems with how emotional I’m feeling, but... I want to talk to you about it. And I want you to talk to me. Or to Coran if you want. You’ve got a lot of things brought back up by this pregnancy. People are too quick to pretend the traumas of growing up suddenly disappear. We’re going to be dads and both of us kind had very different childhoods. We’ve just gotta work out what to do next together, after I’ve had some sleep and can think straight”

“Mum... mum said she’d support us”

Right. Krolia had left with Keith and the others to talk. He was shocked, and kind of not, that she’d want to be part of all of this. She deeply regretted leaving Keith with everything he went through growing up. What happened with Krolia was still left to Keith to decide. Keith had to keep working through those feelings

“Yeah?”

“Yeah... it felt weird... but she said she wanted to be there for us... I don’t know I can let her in...”

“Babe. I’m not going to tell you want to do or feel. Yours and Krolia’s relationship is something you’re working on at your own pace. I know you planned to tell her yourself, but honestly I was so ill tempered by the time we got here I wanted everyone to fuck off and leave us alone”

Keith snorted into his shoulder

“I kind of felt that way too, then I felt bad for feeling like that”

“That’s what I’ve been feeling lately. That I’m too tired to keep my ego from being a dick. Honesty, sometimes I want to punch myself in the dick when I think about my behaviour”

“You’re going through a lot”

“So are you. Everyone keeps focusing on me and I’m like what about you. What are you thinking and feeling? But it’s kind of hard to have a private conversation when the others keep butting in with their worry. It’s strange. I didn’t think I needed more than I had but now I have more I don’t want to give it all up. I want to have these babies. I want to be a better man and a good dad to them. I want to sit down with you and decide everything together. You’re their father. No one else, babe. Your feelings are so important to me. I know we didn’t plan on me falling pregnant so fast, or so early, but I can’t help but want that whole big future with you”

“They asked if we had names... and if I was quitting work and I didn’t know what to say or do”

Lance assumed “they” were Keith’s family. Krolia was probably going to be someone he was going to have to sit down and talk with one on one in the future. No ordinary hunter would allow a pregnant vampire to live. Not with the risk of spreading the curse through Lance’s blood

“We have time to work that all out. I’m not ever going to tell you to quit your job. You have my full support in every single way I can help. I’ve seen how much better being at VOLTRON has been for your mental health. I’ve seen you finally start believing in yourself like I believe in you. I know you’re scared because you lost your dad. I know you think you can’t do it, but I feel that way sometimes too. Not that you can’t, but that I’ll be a bad father... or that someone will swoop in and steal you away from me, seeing I’m so much older”

“No... I don’t want anyone else”

“I know, but think of the times you’ve been really low, when the smallest thing feels like a personal attack. That’s how my moods have felt lately. So think of this like a vampire day spa. I stay a few days, rest up, get plenty of blood and settle down a bit... I’m going to be okay, and we’re okay”

Keith took a shaky breath as he sat up to look Lance in the eyes

“I’m... I really don’t know what to do. You’ve been so sick... and I can’t... I can’t take that away from you. I feel like I can’t make you smile...”

“Idiot. You always make me smile. Before you came I was thinking about how much I wanted you to hurry up and be here already”

“I got you pregnant...”

“And I pretty much enjoyed like every moment of that... the after shock is still... shocking. But if it was going to be anyone in the world, it was going to be the man who makes me feel like the biggest, dopiest, love struck idiot around. You’re smarter and so, so, much more amazing that you let yourself believe. You’re like a total bad arse...”

Keith flushed with a soft blush

“I don’t feel very bad arse”

“That’s because depression and anxiety are horrible sluts that dance around with no underwear making you pay attention to them”

Keith wrinkled his nose at him, but finally he was getting close to a smile

“That’s... I don’t want to think about that”

“Exactly. It’s not something you want to think about but they don’t care. I know I should have talked to you like this sooner, but it’s hard to find privacy when you have a werewolf living in your house”

“I liked it better when it was just us”

Lance did too. Some days. Some days he wanted to throw everyone out like he’d tried to do with Keith. He was so grateful his anger loaf hadn’t left

“Baaaabe. You can’t just kick friends out. No matter how annoying they make you feel. You’re like stuck with us and all our annoying parts. Like Pidge can be super annoying but I fucking love that about her. Don’t tell Curtis, but the smell of his feet has actually become kind of comforting. They absolutely reek, but they say that he’s alive and he’s around, and I love that. And out of everything, I love your scent the most. Your scent makes me feel safe. Like I’m wrapped up in Mami’s lap, hugged until the world no longer matters”

“I don’t know if I know how that feels... to be that loved like that”

“It feels like what I have with you. We’re not always happy and we’re not always happy at each other, but together we have a happiness that’s more than I ever thought possible. We’ve got a lot to work out, and right now I’m fighting not to fall back to sleep”

“You should rest...”

“I’m going to, but I needed to make sure you understood I chose to be here for the sake of us and our babies. Have you got time for a nap?”

“I should... probably go pick Kosmo up. And let the others know you’re okay”

“Alright. I’m proud of you babe”

Keith leaned in to kiss him softly, Lance melting into the affection in the kiss, sad when it finally broke

“Is there anything you want from home?”

“Blankets... and maybe my laptop”

“You’re supposed to be resting”

“But if we have my laptop I can watch movies with you”

Keith huffed

“You don’t get to look that cute and make demands”

“You’re the one who asked. Maybe a change of clothes too? I’ll let you decide”

“I don’t know if I can”

“You can. I know you can. Just bring whatever you think I need”

“I don’t think I can bring your house”

Lance smiled at his idiot boyfriend

“Maybe not. Okay, you better go. Then I can go to sleep and sleep through missing you”

Keith kissed him again, his kisses really were the best

“I’ll be back as soon as I can”

“I know. But no speeding and make sure you wear your seatbelt”

“Yeah, yeah”

“Keith...”

“I won’t. Not when I have you waiting for me to come back”

“That’s right. We’re waiting for you. Be safe, samurai”

“You too, sharpshooter”

Lance groaned at the nickname. You shoot one target in the one spot and they never let you forget it. He felt bad for sending Keith off, yet Keith needed a little reminder that it was okay to be independent. He could only hope Keith would remember he’d driven Rieva and Curtis up to Platt and that they’d need a lift home. Spending time alone with the others was good for Keith... and it’s not like it was forever. He wanted to rest. He didn’t want to ask Coran to have to bar Keith from visiting, so after Keith came back, they were going to have to have another conversation.

[captainscanadian]

Better | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 8)

My Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Summary: Finally, things really are starting to get better.

Word Count: 9287

Pairing: Doctor!Bucky x Doctor!Reader, Doctor!Natasha x Platonic!Reader, Lawyer!Peggy x Platonic!Bucky, The Mom

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Abuse, Alcoholism, Surgery, Organ Donation, IV & Needles, Emotional Distress, Physical Pain, Drugs, Hospital Stay, Homelessness, Anxiety, Trauma

A/N: What can I say except you’re welcome... ;)

Bucky Barnes tapped his nimble fingers anxiously against the rustic oak desk as he sat in Peggy’s office, waiting for the hospital’s in-house attorney to return so that the two of them could head over to meet Steve and your mother to complete their task at hand. The room was bright despite the lights being turned off, the mid-summer sunshine blazing through the large corner window with its blinds parted. The dark haired doctor looked down at the cheque book in front of him, an exasperated sigh escaping his dry lips as he continued to ponder what he was about to do. Of course, he was not having second thoughts about this. He had no regrets about the choice that he had made.

Money had never been an issue for him, not when he was younger and certainly not now. It was not the money that he was worried about. He knew that he was doing the right thing by offering a very large sum of money to your parents, almost three times more than what they had owed in medical bills, both in Brooklyn and in Philadelphia. Not only that, he was also offering them a monthly allowance in addition to this payment. With your father’s inability to work and your mother’s recent loss of employment, they would certainly be well off with what he had to offer them. Moreover, this allowance also allowed them to not have a reason to contact you in the future.

Although the reason for this awful feeling in his chest was not the fact that he was paying them off, it was the fact that he was only willing to pay them in return for them cutting all ties with their only child. It made him feel as though he was betraying you. They may not have been good parents to you but he knew that no matter what, you still saw them as your family. To put an end to that behind your back, it hurt him. He was hurting because he knew how much it would hurt you.

Your James knew that he was doing the right thing by paying them off so that you did not have to. But he could not deny the obvious fact though. They did not deserve any of it, not even a single penny. While you had to work twice as hard to become a successful cardio-thoracic surgeon, put your blood, sweat and tears into the way you studied, obtained your skills, practiced medicine and earned the money you were now making in your own right, your parents were going to live the rest of their lives in luxury because of what he was about to do. They did not deserve any of this at all, as it seemed to be more of a reward to their wrong-doings than a punishment. They deserved punishment. But who was he to wish that they would be punished?

Perhaps what Bucky had been feeling towards them was not necessarily vengeance; he was in no place to feel vengeful towards them. He had not been the one who had been hurt by their actions his whole life. If there was anyone in this world who had a justified reason to feel that way towards your parents, it was you. But he knew that your heart could never be so full of vengeance. Hell, your heart could never even hold a single ounce of vengeance. Even at a time like this, he knew that you were probably worried about your parents’ financial dilemma than the emotional trauma that had been caused by your surgery and its aftermath. As someone who had always sympathized with people who had lived in the streets, you would not wish that upon your own abusive parents. Your heart was a lot more pure than his and that was why you would always be a better human being than he could ever be.

Biting down on his bottom lip, he signed the cheque that he had written as payable to your mother, the sound of Peggy’s red bottom heels clicking against the tiled floor of the hallway making him turn to the door with a rather nervous smile. “Hey Peggy.” He said, almost too plainly, as though he was fighting too hard to suppress his own emotions. He wanted to stay calm for the sake of this transaction running smoothly, but the pain and the anger that the circumstances had caused him were undeniably weighing him down.

“Are you alright, Bucky?” She asked her child’s godfather as she entered her office, though she knew from the look on his face that he was far from okay. As an attorney, as a friend and as a mother of her own little girl, she understood how difficult this must be for him. It was just as difficult for her. Of course, she was angry for the way you had been treated your whole life. But she also knew that this was the only way you could be protected. She was glad that she had a small part to play in that.

But when she saw that look on Bucky’s face, she knew how much it hurt him too. Bucky had a short-temper, there was no denying that. And she could imagine just how angry he must be feeling towards your parents at that moment. Steve would have felt the same way had it been her and her parents. Peggy knew that despite the anger and the guilt that he must be feeling for what he was about to do, Bucky loved you. He loved you with all of his heart that he was fighting with his own emotions. Though she also knew that the man had a strict moral code, he would not let his emotions get the worst of him. After all, that was why they all called him the cold hearted surgical robot.

“I’m of sound mind, body and soul.” He replied as he let out another sigh, tearing the cheque leaf and looking down at the amount that he had written. “I want to do this, Peggy. I want to do this for her. But we both know that they don’t deserve any of this.”

As she walked around her desk, she pulled out a key from her pocket and the safe in the corner of the office. “What you’re about to offer them... not only is it much more than what they had asked Y/N for, it’s more than what any judge could have written off on.” She informed him with a sigh. “They don’t deserve it, I know. We all agree that they don’t deserve a single pence of what you’re about to give them, Bucky. But Y/N deserves it. She deserves everything that this world could possibly give her. Her safety, her protection, her happiness... they’re all priceless compared to what you’ve written in that cheque.” A part of Peggy wondered if now was a good time to tell Bucky about your confession regarding him. Probably not, she was not going to meddle that much. Besides, it would be much better if you and Bucky had confessed your feelings for each other to each other. Pulling out a sealed envelope, she set it down in front of the man before taking a seat across from him. “Are you sure you’re okay to present this cheque to them yourself? Or would you like me to... handle the transaction myself?”

Bucky bit down on his lip once more as he ran his hand through is hair. “I... I can do it.” He told her with a nod. “I would like to do it myself. I would like to hand her the cheque and give her a piece of my mind.”

Peggy let out another sigh before she shook her head at him. “Bucky, if you’re going to let your emotions out of control, I think its better that I do this on my own.”

“No, Peggy...” He shook his head back at her. “I want her to know that... even though they never have and probably never will... love their daughter as she should have been loved her while life, that there’s someone else in this world who loves her more than they ever could. I want them to know that even though they never realized how blessed they were to have a daughter like Y/N, it was their loss that they drove her away... because now she has people who actually care about her. I want them to know she’s loved widely and deeply, that we’re all better for Y/N than they could ever be.”

Peggy could not deny that Bucky’s wish was a valid one. In a way, she wanted your parents to know that too. But her concern was on the man’s temper. She feared that he would lash out at them, for she knew just how much he loved you. She wanted this to go smoothly, for your sake. “Fine... but you have to promise me that you won’t lash out at them. I know that your temper gets the worst of you at times. Steve even told me what happened between you and Wanda. Bucky, I know how you really feel about them but you can’t show that when you see them. Do you understand?” If anything, she was only worried about a potential lawsuit that might come their way. The last thing she wanted to deal with was one of the doctors lashing out at a loved one of a patient at this hospital, even though the circumstances did justify Bucky’s potential outburst, if there was any outburst at all. She sure hoped not.

“... I promise.” He agreed, looking down at his hands as he twirled around the hair tie on his wrist. “Peggy, what if Y/N finds out about what I did? If not about the money, I’m sure she’d at least be mad about the fact that I am asking her biological parents to cut ties all with her. I don’t even think I can keep the part about the money from her at this point. I mean, as much I want to keep it from her, I know that it’s not going to be easy to hide it. I thought about lying to her and saying that we wrote off her father’s surgery as part of my pro-bono procedures. But she knows that I ran out of funding with the last procedure I did a few months ago. She’ll ask where the money came from and... I don’t want her to be mad at me or get offended. I don’t want to lie to her.”

She let out a sigh of relief at his query, her lips curling into a smile as she realized that now what the time to continue her meddling. “Yeah, about that... I may or may not have mentioned to her that you were taking care of her parents’ medical bills.”

Bucky’s eyes grew wide when she had said that. “What? Why would you... Peggy, I told you not to-”

“She was freaking out, Bucky!” The woman cut him off. “She felt helpless, not knowing what to do. She was crying. She didn’t know what to do or how to handle her mother’s demands. I had to tell her, just to calm her down. She needed to know, Bucky, and you know that. She needs to know everything... and I mean everything.” All Peggy could do was hope that Bucky understood what she meant by that. “Please... don’t be mad at me. I know you told Steve and I that she doesn’t find out. I told Romanoff, Wilson and Parker because they’re the doctors involved in her case. But... Y/N needed to know, Bucky. She needed to know that you were the solution to her problem... because that’s exactly what you are.”

“Mrs. Y/L/N.” Peggy greeted your mother with a certain sense of fake politeness that she seemed to have mastered from her years of being a lawyer, a tight-lipped smile on her face as she motioning your mother to step inside the conference room. “Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with us.”

Just by the way she carried herself; it was easy to note that your mother was a rather cold woman. The look on her face was reason enough for the two doctors and the attorney to hope for the best yet expect the worst from this meeting. After all, this was the woman who had been intending to cause you such emotional pain and probably felt no remorse for the way she had been treating you your whole life. They knew exactly what she was capable of but they were certainly not fazed by her presence. If anything, they knew that the power to wield this woman’s will rested upon the cheque that Bucky had been holding onto. They were confident that she would certainly let them have their way; from the numbers that Becca Barnes and the hospital had provided them, they knew that she really needed the money. While obtaining their medical bills from Philadelphia had been illegal, which Peggy had to drill into Bucky’s brain upon finding out what Becca had done for him, they hoped not to bring that up to her during this conversation for whatever reason.

“Mrs. Y/L/N, I believe we’ve met briefly...” Steve shook your mother’s hand, the expression on his face a rather neutral one. He loathed this woman for being such a terrible mother, but the look on his face did not show it. After all, he needed this meeting to go well for your sake, so he was willing to be in her presence until she signed that contract. As your mentor and brotherly figure, he had come to terms with the fact that he was your only immediate family and not her. Perhaps, even Steve needed her to know that he and his wife were more of a family to you than your own mother could ever be. “I’m Dr. Rogers, Y/N’s friend and emergency contact.”

“I remember you.” Your mother gave him a nod, though she was visibly confused as to why she was even meeting with him and the woman who had claimed to be your attorney. Her sole reason for approaching you the way she had done was due to her anger towards you. After all, she felt humiliated by the way you had run away from home, the way you had gotten the police involved in order to be taken out of your home and placed in foster care. New Hope, Pennsylvania, was quite a small town. With its population of a little over twenty-five hundred townspeople, everyone did know everyone. Everyone had come to know how the Y/L/N’s had abused their only daughter, only for her to run away. News travels fast around such small towns. You had brought them shame, yet you now lived a life of a successful surgeon who earned quite a lot of money, while her and your father still remained in their small town home with no proper source of an income. She did not think you deserved any of it.

“Mrs. Y/L/N.” Bucky forced a smile on his face as he held his hand out for your mother to shake. “My name is Dr. Barnes, Y/N’s boyfriend.”

Peggy’s eyes grew wide at the fact that Bucky had introduced himself as your boyfriend. In a way, he was telling her the truth. If all things went well, she hoped that eventually he would become your boyfriend. But who would have known that this man could say such a bold faced lie and still retain his composure. If anything, she knew that this meeting would be quite the entertaining one and she was here for it.

“Boyfriend? I didn’t know that little rat had a boyfriend...” The woman was not even decent enough to take his hand once he mentioned that he was your boyfriend. After all, she firmly believed that you were not worth being loved by anyone in this world. You were a burden to her and your father, the cause of all of her problems and undeserving of even having been born into this world. But whose fault was that? “I must say, I feel sorry for you, son. She’s not fucking worth it. I know her and I know that it’s only a matter of time before she gets up and runs off. Ran off from us like the ungrateful shit she will always be. That’s all she’s ever good for. I’d warn you to get the hell away from her before she breaks your heart and runs off.”

“Why would you, Mrs. Y/L/N? It’s not really appropriate for a liver donor to be mentioning the details of her love life to her recipient’s loved ones, is it? Besides, my girlfriend is certainly not one to share such personal details to anyone other than her immediate family and close friends, which I’m afraid you’re certainly not. So, why would she even mention to you that she had a boyfriend? After all, I believe it’s none of your fucking business...” He retorted with a chuckle, the pent up anger in his chest still remaining under control even though his mind wanted nothing more than to give this woman a stern talking to. “Oh and there’s no need for you to feel sorry for me. I’m sure that I know my own girlfriend better than some woman whose husband got a piece of her liver. After all, that’s all you are right now and all you could ever fucking be. Not to mention that, even though she did save your husband’s life, you do seem to me like that ungrateful shits right now.”

If Steve could laugh and cheer on his best friend right now, he would have done just that. If he had expected this meeting to be a short-lived, cut-to-the-chase kind of transaction, he would have been wrong. He knew that there was no way Bucky could come face to face with this woman and not defend the love of his life. But he struggled to keep a straight face while Bucky dragged your mother through hell like that. Bucky was doing what he could not do and Steve was enjoying every bit of it.

To say that your mother was taken aback by his words would be an understatement. But she was certainly not fazed by his attitude. If anything, this woman was a cold hearted bitch. But what she did not know was that Bucky could be just as cold hearted when he wanted to be. “You’re right. I’m not her family. She lost the right to even call us her family when she ran away, that little rat. And now if she thinks she could just crawl back to us by being this self-sacrificing, attention seeking piece of shit, you tell her that she’s fucking wrong about that. She doesn’t deserve us.”

Both Peggy and Steve were quick to grab onto Bucky’s wrists to make sure that he did not get physical with this woman; even though she probably deserved it for the way she spoke about you. They needed Bucky to remain calm and level-headed until she signed the contract and agreed to leave you alone for good. This was not about Bucky declaring his love for you in front of your mother, but to ensure that you could be safe from all attempts of emotional extortion and be happy.

But Bucky shrugged them off before letting out a laugh that sounded almost bitter. “Oh how delusional must you be, Mrs. Y/L/N, if you think that Y/N would ever dream of coming back to you, as if you were the most perfect mother that she could have ever asked for. If she ran away from you like that all those years ago, I’m sure that she must have had a damn good reason to. I don’t know what the fuck happened back then or why she ran away, but you must have been such shitty parents if she was willing to let the whole town know that you were abusive as fuck. It takes a lot of courage to do that and I’m sure as hell glad that my girl had it in her to get the fuck away from you. I wouldn’t blame her though; she always had excellent judgement when it comes to things like this.” He noted. “Though you’re right about one thing though, she doesn’t deserve you. She deserves better. She deserves so much better than you and your husband’s abusive, selfish, manipulative shit show that you call family. You think you’re her family? That’s the biggest load of bullshit that I’ve ever heard. Family doesn’t treat you any less, make you feel worthless... Family doesn’t cause you pain or make you want to run away. Family doesn’t blame... or shame. Family doesn’t love with stupid, pointless conditions. Look around you, Mrs. Y/L/N, because... we are her fucking family. Not you.” Letting go of Steve and Peggy, he took a step towards your mother. “You have no fucking right to call yourself her family when you tracked her down to this hospital and deliberately tried to extort money from her.”

Your mother was wavering at his words and he knew that. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that!”

“What?! Did you really think that no one knew about your oh so elaborate plan to tie Y/N down and emotionally manipulate her into paying you a shit ton of money?!” Bucky asked as his lips curled into a smirk. “We’re not idiots, Mrs. Y/L/N. Y/N left your asses in New Hope years ago and you two show up here in Brooklyn just as your husband’s liver ‘s about to fail? Did you really think we’d be dumb enough to think that it’s a fucking coincidence?! Y/N may not have been suspicious because you were biologically her parents, but I had my suspicions. I’m sorry to tell you this, ma’am... but there are a hell of a lot of people in this god damn hospital who actually give a shit about her and her well-being and we’re not letting you and your husband get away with trying to emotionally manipulate her. All it took was one damn phone call to the doctor who referred you over to us and he said you asked specifically to be here.” It was true. Becca had been in contact with the doctor who had referred your father over to Natasha, on your mother’s request apparently. “Now that makes me wonder why... because it doesn’t take that long to look Y/N up on Google to know that she works here. Believe me, I would know. I’ve Googled my name a few times to see what comes up.”

Peggy could have sworn that the color had drained from your mother’s face. She turned over to look at her husband with wide eyes, unable to even comprehend that Bucky was really giving her a piece of his mind. If she could, she would talk a hell of a lot more than what he was saying. But she let Bucky take the wheel on this, because the fact that these words came out of his mouth made everything a thousand times better.

“Y-You can’t... prove that.”

“You’re right, I can’t prove that. But what I can prove is that you and your husband owe a hell of a lot of money in medical bills that you can’t afford.” Bucky reminded her, his smirk not leaving his face. “I would ask you how you were planning to pay them off but I think we all know the answer to that, don’t we? We all know what you did and we’re certainly not that happy about it. You have no fucking right to ask Y/N to pay you off. She doesn’t owe you shit for the way you’ve abused her for years. Running away from you was the best thing that could have happened to her... do you really think that she’d want to crawl back to you?!”

“She’s my daughter. She clearly wanted to help us. That was exactly why I asked her for the money.” Your mother said, rather confidently. Even she knew that it was that easy to take advantage of your kind heart. It would have been that easy for her though, had Bucky not got in the way of that. Had you been left alone to your own thoughts, you certainly would have caved in to your mother’s demands. But your friends made sure that it did not get to that point.

“Oh... so now you call her your daughter?” He asked her as he let out a laugh, shaking his head. “So, when you need something from her, she’s your daughter. But when you don’t need her, she’s anything but... do you even realize how fucked up you are?!”

“Bucky!”

James Barnes held his hand up to silence his friend, his gaze not leaving the woman who gave birth to you. “You don’t own Y/N, Mrs. Y/L/N. You may have abused her and manipulated her while she was your child but she’s not a child anymore. She ran off and grew the fuck up. She became a much better person than you could have ever raised her to be and you deserve no fucking credit for what she’s done with her life! She’s not giving you any money.”

“You can’t decide that-”

“Actually, I can!” Bucky cut her off. “And I’m telling you. She’s not giving you a single penny from her hard earned money and I’ll fucking make sure of it, if it’s the last thing I do. She’s already given your husband a piece of her fucking liver and that’s all you’re ever going to get from her!”

Your mother was disappointed that her plan hadn’t worked. She had been rather confident that you would cave in and pay them off. She thought she had the leverage to get you to provide them a luxurious life, the life that she believed you owed them, your own parents. “Then what the hell am I supposed to do with my husband? We’ll end up on the streets...”

“Then so be it. You drove Y/N to the streets too, didn’t you? Why wouldn’t she just do the same to you when she has the chance?” Bucky asked her. Even though he knew that your heart would never dare to wish something so harsh upon your parents, just mentioning it to your mother brought him a sense of satisfaction.

Your mother’s heart sank at Bucky’s words. Had she been wrong about you? Had your heart been so full of vengeance that you had decided not to pay off their medical bills? Did you really want them to end up on the streets? She found that hard to believe, but you were her daughter after all. Surely, you would have inherited some of her qualities.

“God, I wish Y/N would have done that to you heartless monsters. You fucking deserve it. But she’s a hell of a lot better than that.” He noted, biting down on his bottom lip as he held up his cheque. “You want your daughter to pay off those medical bills? That’s fine... but you’re not getting all that money that easily, Mrs. Y/L/N. There’s no way in hell I’m letting that happen. I love Y/N and I love her more than you could ever love her. So if it means that I have to pay your asses off myself, then so be it.” Looking over at Peggy, Bucky gave her a nod. “I’m offering you triple the amount you owe here and a monthly allowance for as long as you and your husband are alive. Let’s just say that Y/N wants her parents to be well taken care of. So if you agree to my terms, the money is all yours.”

The attorney walked around the table to grab to where she had left the envelope that held the contract that she had drafted rather carefully. “Why don’t you have a seat, Mrs. Y/L/N?” She stated with a smirk, taking a seat as her husband walked over to sit next to her. Let’s have a chat like grown-ups for a change.”

As per Peggy’s instructions, Natasha Romanoff found herself never leaving your bedside while she waited for the moment of truth. She was well aware that the attorney had left you in your hospital room to take care of business and she was not planning on leaving you cooped up in your own thoughts until she knew that she could. She could only leave if Bucky showed up. Peggy had told her not to leave you unless she was leaving you alone with Bucky, so all she could do was hope that Bucky would eventually find himself walking into your room once your mother had signed his contract and accepted his payment.  

Nat’s hand never left yours as she sat down on the chair next to your bed, her eyes darting to the door every now and then as she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. To say that she was beyond anxious about what’s to come would be an understatement. What if Bucky had chickened out of this perfect opportunity to confess his true feelings? After her last conversation with him, she knew that there was potential that Bucky would back down from realizing his feelings for you. But she knew how much you needed him right now. You had said so yourself. Hopefully, he knew that too.

The Russian surgeon’s sweaty palm against yours had made you wake up from your short nap. You found yourself rubbing your eyes with your free hand as you looked over at the redhead. “Nat...” You licked your chapped lips as you reached over to grab your plastic cup of water in front of you and took a sip. The dry mouth was the worst part of being in post-op, something that you were hoping that you would be able to get rid of once you were allowed to eat some solid foods. Technically, at this point in recovery, you should have been cleared for solids as your intestines may have started working again. But with your unfortunate accident, that step was delayed by a few days.

“Hey...” The woman perked up as she heard your voice, her soft pink lips curling into a smile as she looked up at you. You could see just how heavy her eyes were. She had worked a full shift, which had ended a few hours ago. Just like Bucky and Steve had spent their time off by your bedside, Natasha was also here for you. It was not like she had anyone to go home to anyways. You knew that she had a younger sister, Yelena, who had recently gone off to college. The empty nest syndrome had hit her quite extensively, so she found herself spending more time at the hospital than she used to. “Are you okay, sweetheart? How’s the pain?”

You gave her a weak smile as she let go of your hand. “Better...” You told her but it may have been the first time you had meant it. “I’m feeling much better, Nat.”

She gave you a nod as she stood up from her seat, reaching over to pull you into another gentle embrace. She was still careful not to mess with the wires that were attached to your body and you wondered how long you had to wait until they could come off. After all, you needed some sort of normalcy. “That’s good. The sutures are still holding. If you’re not in that much pain, we can take those drainage tubes out and switch you to a solid diet.”

“That may be the best news that I’ve heard in a while, Nat. I’ve got to admit that being on the receiving end of surgeries is not that fun. Post-op life is awful.” You let out a sigh of relief at her words, your arms wrapped slightly around her as she continued to hold you. You knew that Natasha was not a hugger like Wanda, but she had certainly taken to giving you the best hugs you could have asked for. You needed them, after all. You had always been touch deprived for as long as you could remember. “You know, I never got to say... thank you, for everything you’ve done in the last couple of weeks.”

“We can only hope that you get more good news soon, Y/N.” She said rather hopefully as she pulled back from the hug. “You don’t have to thank me for anything. I was only doing my job. If anyone should be thankful, it should be me. Thank you for trusting me with your life. It meant a lot to me that you were able to see me as a good surgeon, even if you couldn’t see me as your friend back then.”

You let out a content sigh as you reached for her hand once more. “You’re a good friend, Nat.” Grabbing a hold of her hand, you could not help but let out a chuckle. “Hey, your palm’s really sweaty. Are you okay?”

“Oh... yeah, I’m fine.” She replied with a nervous chuckle. “It’s just... it’s nothing.” Rubbing her hands together, she grinned widely at you. “If you continue recovering at this rate, I might even discharge you by the end of next week. Wanda’s taken it upon herself to make a schedule of who gets to watch you when you’re home for the next two months. She’s taken down everyone’s work schedules and she’s working out a plan to make sure at least one of us can be there with you when we’re not working.”

You let out a soft laugh as you shook your head. “Leave it to Wanda for being such a planner.” You noted. The old you would have argued with her, saying how you did not need anyone to watch over you while you were in bed rest. You would have claimed that you could get by on your own and you would have been so wrong about that. But now, you had learned to accept whatever your friends had to offer you. These were your friends, your real friends, the ones who were in it for life. They were going to be a part of your life forever.

The sound of Dr. James Barnes’ tennis shoes squeaking against the tiled floors of the hospital made Natasha turn over to the door and sigh in relief. “Barnes.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you turned towards the door to see the man whom you had been longing to see. You took in the sight of him, for he looked like a breath of fresh air. His familiar navy blue scrubs and black tennis shoes reminded you of the night when you had first met, his advice to you and the reassurance that keep with it. This hospital was where you belonged. His silky long hair parted in the middle, the same way it had been the night he had walked into your clinic to apologize to you after a minor misunderstanding. He had given you that much respect and courtesy, which you could never forget. His icy blue eyes, they were so easy to get lost in, but for the first time in years you had finally noticed just how full of love they were. This was the man who taught you what it meant to be better. This was the man who taught you what it meant to be loved.  

Natasha smiled at him before turning over to look at you, taking her cue to leave. “I should get going, Y/N. I’ll see you during rounds tomorrow.” Leaning over to gently stroke your hair, she placed a friendly kiss on the top of your forehead. “You keep those sutures in place until I get back, you hear me? Pull anything funny on me and you won’t hear the end of it.”

You let out a laugh as you turned back to her. “You got it, doc. Drive safely and call me when you get home, please? Just so that I know that you got home safely.”

“Sure, but don’t try to miss me too much.” She gave you a thumbs up as she grabbed her belongings and made her way towards the door. When she reached Bucky, she gave him a warm smile before pulling him into a hug. “Goodnight, Bucky.” She told him before lowering her voice. “If you dare to chicken out right now, I’ll fucking murder you...” With that warning, she kissed him on the cheek and pulled back from the hug, only to make her way over to the doctors’ lounge where the rest of her friends were waiting.

Bucky let out a chuckle as Natasha walked away, his gaze turning back to the woman he loved. “According to my photographic memory, I’m pretty sure that Antonio’s contract with Shylock didn’t mention any jot of blood...” He trailed off as he walked around your bed. “He just offered a pound of his flesh.”

“Need I remind you, Dr. Barnes, that the reason why Shylock couldn’t get what he wanted at the end of that play... was because there was no way one could even cut out a piece of flesh without spilling some blood. You can’t have one without the other. That’s why Portia, in disguise as Balthazar, tricked him in court like that.” You told him as you laughed softly at his reference to The Merchant of Venice. “But you’re right. The contract didn’t mention any jot of blood. That’s why Shylock couldn’t get a pound of Antonio’s flesh and in the end; he lost all of his wealth.”

“Even after Bassanio’s offer to pay him three times the bond that Antonio owed him.” He added, biting down on his bottom lip as he sat at the edge of your bed, setting down the envelope that he had been holding onto.

“Antonio had good friends...” You noted with a smile, your hand reaching over to take his. “And Antonio was a good friend. That’s why he was willing to put down a pound of his own flesh down on that contract in exchange for that bond.”

“Speaking of contracts...” He let out a sigh as he picked up the envelope and handed it over to you. “I took care of your mother, handled your father’s medical bills here and also whatever outstanding medical bills they had back home. I can imagine how awful it must have been for you, when she had asked you to pay them off like that. When Steve told me that you pulled a suture, I... I’m sorry about what happened, Y/N. I shouldn’t have left you. Maybe if I had stayed with you, she wouldn’t have come in here and talked to you like that.”

You could see the look of guilt in his eyes and it pained you to know that he blamed himself for what had happened to you. “James, no... it wasn’t your fault. I was a fucking idiot, not being careful with my sutures and jerking to the side. Of course, it came off. It was my fault.”

Bucky could not help but crack a smile at your words. “You’re such a drama queen, Y/N. If you really wanted to live like you’re in the Merchant of Venice, all you had to do was hop on a plane.”

“Well, what can I say... I liked having ‘Dr. Long Hair Don’t Care’ at my beck and call for an entire day.” You shot him a cheeky wink as you looked down at the envelope that he had handed you, an exasperated sigh escaping your lips as you dumped the contents of it onto your lap. You picked up the contract that your mother had signed, agreeing to cut all ties with you in return for Bucky’s payment. “Wow... she really signed this?” You asked him as you looked up to meet his eyes, a hint of disbelief evident in your voice.

Bucky gave you a nod. “I’m sorry, I... didn’t meant to... take away the only family that you had. I just wanted to protect you from-”

“No, I get it, James.” You cut him off as you gave him a genuine nod. “If she could even try to extort money from me when I was high on pain meds, God knows what she could do when I wasn’t. It would have been a never ending circle of me being an idiot and her taking advantage of that. You put an end to it, so... thank you for that.” Your lips curled into a smile as you continued to hold onto his hand, not wanting to let go. “My only concern is that... did she even hesitate to sign it?”

He did not want to let go either. He let out a sigh as he scooted closer towards you. “No, she... signed right away. She agreed to the terms and... took the payment.” He did not see a point in lying to you anymore, or hiding the truth for that matter. He knew that you needed to know everything and he was going to tell you everything.

You let out another sigh as you felt your eyes glaze over with salty tears. “So, my mother... had no second thoughts about letting go of the one and only daughter that she had... in exchange for money? So what? As of today, I don’t have a mom... or a dad? Not that I ever did, I didn’t have a mom when I really needed one...” And so, you opened up the part of you that you had always kept closed, the memories of that dreadful night flooding back to you as you finally let him in on your tragic past. “When I was little, my father used to say that I was the best thing that had ever happened to him... that I was his angel, his lucky charm. He used to say that his business picked up after I was born. He was... my dad. I think I was six or seven when my parents went bankrupt. I didn’t even know what it meant back then. All I knew was that dad was no longer going to work and mom got a job at the motel where all the tourists came to stay.” You reached over to wipe away your tears with your free hand. “Things changed after that. My dad started to hate me. He blamed me for everything that’s been happening to our family. I didn’t know what I had done wrong but... my dad didn’t love me anymore.”

Bucky let out a sigh as he scooted closer to you, wrapping his arm gently around you as he let you lay your head against his shoulder. “I mean... I knew about that.” He admitted. “I got my PI sister to look into your parents because I got a little suspicious about their intentions. I wanted to make sure that they weren’t after your money and I was right about it.”

You let your head rest against his shoulder, not even paying attention to what he had just told you. It was not that important. All that mattered to you was that he was here and you were safe. “He started drinking a lot. My mother took me to school when she went off to work and I got picked up by the neighbors because she worked late. I would get home to an empty house, get started on dinner and wait for my drunken father to get home. I always did what they asked me to do, kept the house clean and tidy, cooked and put food on the table every night, finished my homework while I waited for him. He got home in time for dinner, didn’t always eat the food but... he always...” You bit down on your bottom lip as the tears continued to stream down your face, not knowing how to say this. “He started hurting me.”

Bucky clenched his fist as your words, the thought of your childhood self being physically abused crushing his heart in an instant. His blood was starting to boil but he held onto you, never wanting to let go. He knew how much you needed him right now.

“There were nights when I would... set the table, eat quickly, do all of my homework and hide in my bedroom until the next morning. I tried to stay out of his sight so that he wouldn’t hurt me, scared... absolutely paranoid. My mother never knew because she was always at work. She didn’t get home until like... really late at night. But after a few years, it got too much... I couldn’t keep doing it, James. I was scared and hurting and... all I wanted was for someone to just... not hurt me, hold me, tell me that things are going to get better.” Sniffling away your tears, you looked up at him for a moment. “I put up with it all for a few years before I decided that I was done with it all. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed my mother to know what was happening while she wasn’t home. It was the night before Valentine’s Day... when I was in my junior year of high school. My mother was home that night because she got the day off. The motel usually gets booked up on Valentine’s Day so they gave her a day off. I got home from school and... I went up to her... gathered up all of my courage and told her what was going on. I think I was expecting her to be furious with my father, to... be my mother, get me the help that I desperately needed. But she... she started... she didn’t believe me and she...” You broke into a sob against his shoulder, your tears staining through his scrub shirt. But either of you could care less about that. “She couldn’t... she couldn’t do what moms are supposed to do. She couldn’t hold me or tell me any comforting words. She couldn’t... I thought she would at least act like my mother for once but she...”

Bucky let out a sigh as he shut his eyes, letting the tears stream down his face as he continued to hold onto you. His hand gently stroked through your hair, his touch a soothing one that filled you with warmth. In his arm, you felt safe, for you were finally free from your dreadful past. Your life was now better, all thanks to him. “You... you ran away that night, didn’t you?” He asked you, and you could hear his voice breaking as he spoke. You knew that at that moment, what he felt for you was not pity. It was something much more than that. It was empathy. It was care. It was love.

You nodded your head as you recalled the events that followed your mother’s outburst. “My mother was in the kitchen, making dinner for my father for when he comes home. I hopped in the shower because... I wanted to cry, I wanted to cry so badly. I don’t know where I heard this but... someone had once told me that the best place to cry was the shower. No one would hear you over the running water and if anyone walked in on you crying, they wouldn’t know that you were crying because they can’t see tell the difference between your tears or the running water. I just wanted to cry... but I didn’t want to face whatever would have happened when my father got home and my mother told him what I told her. I was done with it all but how long could I just stay in the shower? I knew I had to get out of there, at that very moment. I hopped out of the shower but I left the water running, threw on whatever clothes I could find... a pair of sweat pants and a hoodie. It was snowing so much. I’m pretty sure it was a blizzard or something but I didn’t care. At that point, I would rather freeze to death than stay with them. I’d left jacket and my boots by the front door so... I couldn’t go and grab them. I didn’t want my mother to hear me. All I had on my feet were shower flip flops. I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t pack a bag or anything. I just grabbed a handful of cash that I had been saving up. Where was I going? What was I going to do? How was I going to manage anything? I didn’t care... I just needed to get out of there and everything would be better.” You pulled back from his embrace for a moment, wiping away your tears as you noticed that James was also in tears. Seeing his face made you pull him back into a hug and you let out a sigh. “I opened my bedroom window, jumped out... slid down the roof really and managed to land in a mound of snow. My flip flops fell off of my feet and I couldn’t see where they landed. I was running around... bare feet. It was cold, James. It was really cold. I could feel the snow crunching against my feet but I managed to grab my flip flops. My feet were numb, I couldn’t even stand. My hair was still wet; it just froze up in a few seconds. Before I could even think twice about what I was doing, I ran. I ran as fast as my feet could take me and my flip flops kept coming off. I didn’t care. I didn’t know where to go at first... but the only place I knew to go was my school. It took me a half hour to get there. It had always been my safe place. It was the day before Valentine’s Day, a Thursday. It was the night before the school dance and they were setting up for it. I managed to sneak inside when some people were trying to move some sound equipment into the gym. I went straight into the girls’ bathroom, locked myself in a stall and cried. I was freezing, I couldn’t breathe, my hair was frozen, I was pretty sure I was going to get frostbites... I was terrified, James. I didn’t know if I could even make it through the night. I didn’t know if my mother had figured out that I ran away. What if she saw that I left my window open, what if she saw my footsteps in the snow and followed me here. I was so scared. I felt so alone and lost. At that moment, I thought that I had no one in this world to call myself my family. I had nobody.”

Bucky wanted to tell you that you had him now. Everything was going to get better. But he could not get himself to speak, for he was still processing what you had just told him. He pulled back from the hug to wipe away his tears, his hands clutching onto yours as though he wanted to massage some warmth into them. Your hands were not cold at that moment. They were sweaty. You were safe. But he could not believe how much those hands had been through, what they had to survive in order to get where they were.  

“One of my teachers who happened to be helping set up for the dance... she found me. When I told her what happened, she just took me back to her house. Let me warm up and she let me spend the night at her place. She took me to the sheriff’s office the next morning and... I’ve been alone since then, James. Never got back what I lost that night, no family, no friends... no sense of being loved or belonging. I lost it all that night... in that snowy... winter night.” Your lips curled into a weak smile as you leaned over to cup his cheeks. “And I found what I lost years ago... on another snowy wintry night, but this time in Brooklyn. My feet were crunching against the snow but I was wearing my boots. I wasn’t freezing, I had my coat on. I wasn’t lost, I had a destination and it was home. And I wasn’t alone... I was with you. I was with you, James. You valued me enough to come looking for me, find me and... give me that respect. You told me that I was capable of being much better than what life had to offer me and... You are so much better than everything that life’s had to offer me, James... because on another winter night, I got back everything I lost. And it was all because of you.”

“Goodnight, Dr. Barnes.” You gave him a wave as you began to walk into the diner, stopping in front of the door before turning around to look at him. “Hey… James?”

He had turned around to cross the street once he waved you goodbye when you had called out to him. At first he was a little startled that you had referred to him by his first name, as you had never done that before. Besides, no one else other than his parents had called James. “Yes?”

“Thank you.” You told him as you gave him a genuine smile.

He nodded, smiling brightly as he ran his hand through his hair. And it was at that moment on that cold winter night did Y/N Y/L/N manage to thaw out the cold dead heart of James Buchanan Barnes. But what he did not realize that night was that he had managed to thaw her out too.

“I love you, Y/N Y/L/N.” Bucky finally said the words that he had been holding onto for years, his hands placed on top of yours as he tilted his head down so that your foreheads could touch. “I’ve loved you ever since that snowy night, when you called me by my name and thawed out my cold head heart with a single smile. I’ve loved you ever since I realized that you were a much better doctor and a much better human being than I could ever be. I’ve loved you because you never let life get the worst of you. You always made things better for yourself and everyone around you. You made me better, you make me better.” The never ending tears continued to stream down his face as he finally confessed his true feelings. “I love when you care for everyone around you. I love that you’re selfless. I love that no matter how bad life had treated you, you never gave up. I love that you always thrived to be better. I love how much you care about your patients. I love how you treat the hospital staff as equals. I love you for who you are, because you are worthy of being loved. Even if you’ve never been loved by anyone in your whole damn life, even if you think that you don’t deserve to be loved, I want you to know this. You are loved, Y/N. You are loved so fucking much, by your James.”

[mikenewtonhateblog]

Hey yeah if you aren’t wearing a mask because you think being young and healthy will save you take it from someone who didn’t have asthma for the first 16 years of her life and within 48 hours of my first attack starting I was in the ICU on death’s door.

I have a very rare form of asthma where basically my lungs will stop working automatically and I have to conciously make myself breathe, and as I’m doing that it feels like my lungs are being squeezed so I have to breathe deeply, which then develops into I feel like I’m starving for oxygen. The doctors had to gown up and test me for MERSA, SARS, and a whole list of other things. My oxygen levels showed normal the whole time because I was breathing so hard, I had to have them tested via an artery in my wrist. I stopped breathing twice in the ER waiting room. Breathing treatments were the only thing that would work until my lungs became so dependant it only worked for 5-10 minutes. The hospital didn’t know if they should put me in the ICU or drive me to childrens but ultimately went with ICU as they feared I’d die in the ambulance. I had so much albuterol in my system my heartrate was EXTREMELY high (can’t give a number as its fuzzy now). They were afraid intibating me would kill me because my lungs were essentially collapsing for no reason. It took 20+ tries to get an IV in me or draw blood because my veins kept blowing. At one point I was just screaming in the ICU because I had been in hospital for 24hours with no sleep and minimal help from the ER nurses who blew me off and the doctor who gave me cough meds and ignored me until it was too late and I had to be admitted.

After 48 hours of hell my back was in extreme pain, every inch of me hurt, and I felt like I was being suffocated/drowning. They put me on an oral steroid and had to knock me out because some idiot gave me an anti anxiety med that sent me into a worse panic attack. After being knocked out I don’t remember anything but I was in the ICU for two more days where I went in and out of conciousness. I was then moved up to the CCU for three more days. I had to relearn how to walk because the time I spend unconcious had made me so weak I could barely move. Finally they moved me to the childrens unit for two more days where I was watched and given more oral steroids and breathing treatments every four hours. I left the hospital in a wheelchair and had to build up learning to walk again for two weeks. I was on oral steroids for a month that gave me every horrific side effect possible.

This was in 2011. I’ve only had mild attacks since, one hospitalized me for the night, the rest I have controlled. I’m on an inhaled steriod for life now and CANNOT use rescue inhalers as they trigger my lungs dependance on them and the downward spiral begins. Doctors don’t listen to me and probably never will.

I can imagine what corona would do to me. It’d be similar to above but the ending would be different: I’d die. Before that attack in 2011, I had no symptoms of asthma, I never had breathing issues and was active, I survived swine flu just fine. Now? I can’t hold my breath for longer than 30 seconds, I need a air purifier in my room, stairs make me winded, somedays I’m out of breath for no reason. Do NOT take this virus lightly, you are not invincible, life is unforgiving and uncertain so wear your FUCKING MASKS and STAY INSIDE.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 93

Warnings: mention of depression, anxiety, PTSD

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

“It’s your lucky day handsome.”

Julie waits until he deposits his phone on the bedside table before greeting him. It’s been her ‘pet name’ for him since day one;  a hazy recollection of her calling him that during a brief moment of  consciousness that first night in the ICU. A blanket straight from the warmer in the hall being placed over him and a damp face cloth being pressed against his face; clearing away any and all remnants of dried blood. A palm resting on his cheek and his head being ever so gently turned sideways; his eyelids heavy and vision blurry, barely able to make out the soft, kind face regarding him. He remembers trying to speak; tongue feeling thick and  throat painfully dry and only managing to get out on intelligible word: water.  She had smiled at that, and the hand on his face moved to the back of his neck as the other was placed under his chin; catching any spills as she helped him drink ice water through a straw.  He’d been unable to sort all the pieces and put them together; brain muddled and foggy as he tried to figure out just what happened, where he was, and how he’d gotten there. But he remembers -even through the flood of powerful painkillers and sedation being pumped into him- the panic that he'd felt. Asking where his wife was and being terrified that he’d be told she was dead; that his entire family was gone.  The nurse’s voice soothing as she comforted him; assuring him that Esme was fine and had just stepped out of the room and would be back in ‘two shakes of a lamb’s tail’.  Then that warm, soothing sensation had returned; that cloth against his forehead and one of the older woman’s hands gripping his.   Exhaustion returning hard and fast; aided by the amount of meds being continuously run through his battered and broken body.

“You mean I don’t have to have a tube in my dick  anymore?”

A grin plays on her mouth. “Okay, so maybe not THAT lucky.”

“When DOES that day come?”

“When you get your legs back under you.”

“You mean when I can actually feel them again?”

Julie nods.

“And when is that gonna be?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“Wouldn’t you if you’ve spent a week hooked up to all this shit?” He nods down at the central line inserted in his chest; clear tubing leading to a morphine pump and an IV pole. “Seven days of pissing into a bag and having strangers poking and prodding at you all the time”

“We’re hardly strangers anymore, blue eyes. We’re on a first name basis, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know; you never call me by mine. You’re always calling me these cute little names.”

Well maybe I find you cute. Even in all your grumpy glory. I’m old enough to be your mother, you know.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Bless your beautiful little heart. But as  much as I appreciate you feeding my ego, all the sweet talking in the world won’t save you from being poked and prodded at.”

He sighs.  “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t really like people touching me.”

“You have a lot of kids for a guy that doesn’t like to be touched,” Julie teases.

“She’s the exception. It’s nothing personal against you. I just don’t like people getting that close. And I especially don’t like hospitals.”

“You’ve spent a lot of time avoiding them, huh? I can tell by some of the scars you’ve got going on there.  You’re used to just patching yourself and getting back into the fight.”

“Pretty much. Too bad I couldn’t do that this time. Wish it was that simple; digging a bullet out or sewing myself up. This is a little beyond that.”

“Just a little. How’ve you been feeling today?”

“Alright, I guess.”

“You guess? What’s going on? Pain?”

“A little. My back’s been bugging me but it’s pretty tame compared to what I’m used to.”

“Any headaches?” she asks, as she tends to checking his blood pressure and temperature. “Blurred vision? How about unusual grogginess or memory issues?”

“You ask me this every day,” Tyler grumbles.

“And every day, I tell you the same thing. That  there’s always a chance of that pesky skull fracture causing issues. So…?”

“Nothing. No headaches, no dizziness, now eye problems. And I already told you about my brain; I have memory issues to begin with. Permanent ones.”

“From the last time you were here.”

He nods. “My short term memory is fucked. It’s a brain injury. Or so I was told. From when I coded. Twice. Not enough oxygen going to my head screwed things up.”

“Must get frustrating.”

“It’s not as bad as it used to be. I’m not as forgetful as I was a few years ago, that’s for sure. But yeah, it pisses me off; when I can’t remember things.  If I can’t remember what I did ten minutes or I have to ask my wife the same questions over and over again because I don’t remember what she said the first five times.”

“What happens when you get pissed off?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you deal with it?”

“A lot better than I used to, that’s for sure. Back when I used to drink a lot and I’d flip my shit and punch a hole or in a wall or freak out on everyone in the house. Now I just go and work out or go surfing or for a hike and that’s it.  I feel better by the time I get back.”

“It makes you angry? When you have to ask the same things over and over again?”

“Not angry, really. It just annoys me. I guess it makes me a bit worried too.”

“Worried? About your brain or….?”

“Worried that I’m annoying her. That I’m just some messed up basket case adding more shit to her plate. That I’m just another kid she has to take care of. A burden.”

“I highly doubt she thinks those things.”

“I know she doesn’t. She’s never made me feel that way. It’s just that I worry about it. That one day she’s going to look at me and I’m going to see pity in her eyes. And I don’t ever want to see that. That would kill me. If she started looking at me that way.”

“I don’t see that ever happening. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and it’s definitely not pity in those pretty brown eyes.”

“I just hate what this is all doing to her. Especially right now. Being pregnant; trying to grow a human being, keep it alive. And I hate that it’s taken her away from the other kids. That I’VE taken her away from them.”

“I doubt she sees it that way.”

“I hate that she has to take  care of me. Has to feed me and wash my hair and my face and all that shit. And before you say it, no, I don’t want someone else doing it. I just wish she didn’t have to do it at all. I’m supposed to take care of her; it’s what I promised to do when we got married. For the rest of my life.”

“Didn’t those vows go both ways? I seem to remember it going both ways when I got married.”

“I’m the guy. I’m supposed to take care of her.”

Julie smirks. “She warned me about that. Your toxic masculinity bullshit.”

“Are you supposed to swear in front of your patients?”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

He grins. “No.”

“You really need to stop that, you know,” she gently scolds. “Thinking that way. Thinking it’s your duty to protect and provide and that she’s some weak little creature that you have to coddle. Because if this last week has shown anything, it’s that she is definitely weak. Little, yes. But not weak.”

“Believe me, I don’t see her that way.  At all. She’s the strongest, toughest person I’ve ever met. I know what she’s capable of. I saw it...I experienced it...first hand seven years ago.  It’s not that I feel like I have to protect her. I WANT to protect her. Especially with the life we have. The things I do. The toes I step on and the bridges I burn.  I NEED to protect her. And those kids.”

“Have you ever thought of getting out of that kind of life? So you won’t have to worry about things like that? Wouldn’t it be nice if you never had to worry about any of that ever again?”

“I don’t have that option. Of getting into another line of work.”

“Everyone has that option.”

“All I know is being a soldier and being a merc. That’s it. That’s my life in a nutshell. Those two things are all I know. And it’s not like I can go back to the military. I’m too fucking torn up and too damn old. And I’ve got a family to take care. One that’s going to get even bigger very soon.”

“Something tells me this is less about you needing money to put a roof over their heads and food in their bellies, and more about YOU.  Your personality.  You’re the type that’s not mean to sit still for too long. You get bored easily. And then you start feeling like you’re stuck and you start to resent things. People. Even though you don’t mean to.”

“Since when did you become a shrink?”

“I read people. I always have.  There’s an edge to you. One that says you’re a man that needs that danger. That adrenaline rush. That you’re not happy unless you’re getting those things.”

Tyler smirks. “How about you just stick to taking my temperature and my blood pressure and shit. If I wanted my head read, I’d go to a professional.”

“Is that something you want? Someone to talk to you.”

“I’m talking to you.”

“Someone other than me. Someone who has experience with people like you.”

“Crazy people you mean.”

“No. That’s not what I mean. You’re not crazy.  You have mental health issues, yes. But you’re not crazy.  Do you feel like you are? Or that you’re heading that way?”

“I think YOU’RE starting to ask too many questions. Are you like this with all your patients or…?”

“You’re the only who is conscious and can carry on a conversation.”

“Maybe we should pretend I’m unconscious again.”

“You don’t like talking about these kinds of things, do you. About what’s going on in your brain.”

“There’s nothing going on up there. That’s the problem.”

“I think there’s more going on up there than you want to admit. You’ve been through a hell of an ordeal. You’re going through it. You’re going to be going through it for quite a while. So how about you make it easier on yourself and not add more to YOUR plate.”

“I’ll be fine. Mentally.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“I will,” Tyler insists.

“I think it would do you some good. To talk to someone. Someone that has experience with people with PTSD. Someone that…”

“I think this conversation is done.”

“You know you’re only causing yourself more harm than good, right? That the longer you keep all that inside, the worse it’s going to be. You’re going to crash and you’re going to crash hard. And you’ll take it out on the people around you. The people that you love. That love YOU.  Is that what you want? You want to get to that point? Where it’s your wife and your kids bearing the brunt of it.”

“Do you WANT me to ask for another nurse?”

“She’s worried about you.”

“Well she needs to stop.  I’ll be fine. Once I’m out of Dhaka and I’m back home and I’m closer to my kids, I’ll be fine.  That’s all it is. Homesickness. I just want the fuck out of here.  I want to see my children.”

Julie perches herself on the edge of the bed and places a hand on his shoulder. “What if I told you that the only way you’re getting out of here is putting in so many  hours. with a psychiatrist?”

“What if I told you AND the psychiatrist to fuck off?”

“The neurologist put it in your file. That the only way you’ll be released and sent home is if you log so many hours with one of your therapists.”

His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. “You’re kidding me, right? This is your way of tricking me into talking to someone.”

“There’s no tricks. I am telling you the truth. I wanted you to hear it from me.”

“Why? Because you think we’re friends? You’re just someone that comes in and changes my piss bag and would wipe my ass if it had to be done. That’s it. We’re not friends. This is your job, right? Why do you give a shit about me? Who gives a fuck if I talk to a shrink? Just do what you’re supposed to do so I can get the hell out of here and go home.”

“You have a good life. You have someone that loves you and worries about you and wants you around for the long haul.  You have five...soon to be six...beautiful children that adore you and need you. Don’t you want to be healthy? For them?”

“Of course I do. So help fix my fucking body so I can go home!”

“Calm down. You need to take a breath and calm down and…”

“Don’t fucking tell me calm down!” he snarls, and tears the blood pressure cuff off his arm and tosses it aside. “Don’t ever talk to me like that. No one talks to me like that.”

“If you don’t settle down, we’ll give you something to settle you down. Is that what you want? You want us to sedate you?”

“I want another nurse.”

“You can’t have another nurse. You’re not in charge of your care. You’re not the one making the decisions. Your wife is.”

“Then get her over here.”

“She’s taking a break,” Julie attempts to reason. “She NEEDS a break. You said it yourself; she’s trying to grow a human being and she doesn’t need anything else on her plate.”

“Don’t use my words against me. Don’t do that. That’s my wife. And I want her here. If she’s the one making all the decisions, then I want her here. I want to talk to her.”

“Then call her on the phone and talk to her that way. She doesn’t need to be getting a baby up and…”

“Get my wife here! I want her here! Now!”

“Okay…” Julie holds her hands up in surrender and slides off the bed. “...I’m going to go and call her, alright? I’m going to go to the nurses station and give her a ring and hopefully by the time I get back, you’ll have   managed to calm yourself down.”

“I don’t want you coming back in there. Ever. Just get my wife. That’s who I want here. Not you, not any of your fucking people. Just her.”

“We’re here to help you, Tyler. That’s all we want. Just to help you. If you’d just let us…”

“Fuck your help!” He rages, wrapping his fingers around the tubing that leads into the port in his chest and yanking it clear out of his body. Oblivious to both the blood and the pain that accompanies the violent action; the burning sensation that begins at the original point of entry and travels down the entire left side of his body.  “I don’t need your fucking help! Get my wife! Now!”

Julie simply nods in agreement, then slips from the room and closes the door behind her.

*****

She meets Andy at the front entrance of the hospital; handing him both Addie and the key card for his room before heading inside.  She’d already been asleep when Julie had called; still clad in the hotel bathrobe and a protective hand resting on Addie as she dozed as well.   She hadn’t been given specifics; simply told there’d been an incident and that it couldn’t be resolved entirely until she got there.  Panic had immediately set in. Worst fears grabbing a hold of her as she quickly threw on a pair of sweats and t-shirt; not even bothering with a bra or underwear and shoving her bare feet into her sneakers and tossing her hair up into a sloppy ponytail. All she could think about was what could have possibly gone wrong; the start of swelling on the brain due to the skull fracture, infection in one of the surgical sites,  an unforeseen complication with his back or legs.  The trip in the elevator seems to take forever. Nervously swaying side to side with still sleeping Addie clutched tightly to her; anxiety and fear clutching at her chest and causing nervous, unsettled fluttering in her stomach, eyes never leaving the illuminated numbers above the door as she mentally counted  down each floor.

It had been Andy that had given her some sort of comfort. Assuring her that nothing was wrong; at least not physically.   But there had been an ‘issue’;  a nurse mentioning the need for a psychiatric assessment and suggestion of an emotional breakdown and mental problems far beyond the realm of what staff in ICU were used to dealing with.  She’s genuinely surprised it took this long for things to boil over. The warning signs had been there. The panic attacks that occurred even after the disorientation and confusion passed, the shockingly abrupt changes in his moods; from happy and joking around and carrying on a pleasant conversation to severely depressed and emotional beyond all hope of comfort. In the blink of an eye become angry and volatile; saying hurtful, cutting things and appearing mere inches away from flying into fits of rage.

She’s  seen him that severe only twice before; all attempts at getting him help failing and being ignored and winding up with him putting a gun in his mouth with all intent of killing himself. She’d thought this time would be different; help would be easier to get if he was already in a hospital receiving care.  But the specialists had pushed the initial worries aside, saying the up and down moods were simply due to suffering trauma and being immersed in a situation he had no control over. That the panic attacks were just a ‘side effect’ of either the confusion caused by meds or the PTSD being triggered by being in a hospital. No one had taken it seriously; brushing it off as a ‘non concern’ and telling her that she was overreacting; nothing more than a worried, scared spouse in way over her head.

Julie had been her last resort.  The one chance of getting him even the smallest bit of help before things got to the point of no return. And now even THAT’S failed.  

She’s angry. Not at him. NEVER at him. What’s happening to his already vulnerable and battered mind way beyond his control; the bouts of severe -almost manic- depression, the PTSD induced panic attacks, the hurtful things that come out of his mouth when he’s in a tailspin.  The anger is reserved for everyone throughout the years -throughout his entire life, for that matter- that has contributed to where he is now. Physically AND mentally. His father for  a childhood filled with   abuse and inhumane torment, the horrors of war he’d experienced during multiple deployments in the Middle East, the injuries suffered on the job that have lead to years of chronic, near crippling (on some days) pain,  the multitude of medical professionals that -instead of listening to her fears and worries- simply threw more and more meds at him instead of attempting to find real solutions.  Even the stint in the psych ward had only scratched the surface; a small bit of help that had only come because he’d been so close -perhaps just minutes- from taking his own life.

“What the hell happened?” She can no longer hide the irritation or the disappointment.  Past being tactful and polite.  The last seven days have been pure and utter hell, and she’s tired of it being one step forward and ten steps back.  And she doesn’t even feel the least bit apologetic when she sees the way Julie blinks at the harshness in her voice.  

“I didn’t want to call you.  It was the last thing I wanted to do. I knew you needed a break and I know you’re exhausted. You’re worn out and you’re stressed and you needed to get some rest. But he wouldn’t calm down and the only person he wants to talk to is you. If there’d been anyone else to call…”

“He’s my husband. I don’t care if you have to call me at three in the morning. He’s all that matters right now. And I don’t understand what could have happened in such a short period of time.  I just got off the phone with him; he told me you were in the room. What the hell could have gone so wrong? When I was on the phone with him, he was fine. Considering. He sounded like Tyler; he was joking around and he was teasing me and he was fine. What the fuck?”

“I may have pushed him too far.”

“Too far doing what? What could you have been doing  that you went too far with? He was fine. Until you got in the room. What did you do to him?”

“We were talking. I was trying to get a pulse on how he was feeling. Mentally, speaking. And it was going well; we were having a calm and rational conversation.”

“Tyler doesn’t just freak out. He needs a reason. Or his brain needs a reason, I should say. He’s not going to go just go from calm and rational to off the reservation. That’s not him. Not even on his worst mental health days. What did you say to him?”

“I may have overstepped.”

“Overstepped how? ��What did you say to him? And don’t lie to me. Because he will remember and he will tell me. And I’d rather you be the one to do it. Be honest with me. What did you do to him?”

“I mentioned that the neurologist wasn’t going to send him home if he didn’t log so many hours with a psychiatrist or a therapist.”

“Why would you tell him that? It’s not true. They haven’t said anything like that and I sure as hell would not agree to that.  I said I wanted someone to see  him; I didn’t say they had a right to force him to be here. I just wanted them to talk to him, that’s it. I didn’t want them holding them hostage until he played by their rules. That’s bullshit and you know it. That’s not what we agreed to.  I didn’t say to lie to him. Why would you do that?”

“I was hoping I could convince him. To willingly talk to someone. To take some of the pressure off of you. I know you’re exhausted; mentally and physically. I know…”

“Your job is to take care of HIM. Tyler is all that matters to me right now. I trusted you. And you turned around and you lied to him? You tried to scare him into submitting to therapy? That is beyond fucked up. That you’d lie to him like that.”

“It gets worse.”

“How much worse?”

“I’m not proud of the route I took. Believe me, I’m not.”

Esme’s eyes narrow, arms crossing over her chest. “What did you do?”

“I used you and the kids.  I told him that he was going to crash and crash hard. And that when he did, he’d hurt the people closest to him. That love him. That you and the little ones would be the ones to bear the brunt and pay the price. And why would he want to do that? Hurt all of you like that.”

“That is one of his worst fears. Losing his mind and hurting me or the kids. I told you that. That he’s scared of that. And you used that? You used US? To try and coerce him into talking to a shrink? You thought hurting him even more was the best to handle things?”

“Esme, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would turn this bad.  I didn’t know he snap THAT bad.”

“I could have told you what a bad idea it was; to bring me and the kids into things.  Why would you go behind my back and do this? Lie to him and try to force him into therapy? Use the threat of not being able to go home?  You know how desperate he is to go home and see his kids. And you use that against him?”

“I didn’t think it would affect him this bad. I didn’t…”

“That’s exactly it. You didn’t think. I told you that he’d talk to someone if I was with him. You just had to arrange that. You didn’t have to lie to him and scare him into something. All you had to do was find someone that could help him. This? What you did? That is not helping! It made it worse. It made HIM worse!”

“And I’m sorry. I really am. I am so sorry.”

“How bad did he get?”

“Ripped out the central line; we had to put a couple stitches in to close things up.  Took five people to hold him down to get a regular IV in. We were going to restrain him, but…”

“That would have made things so much worse.  Do you WANT  him to have a psychotic break? Because that would have done it.”

Julie frowns. “Of course that’s not what I want.”

“How is he now?”

“Calm. We gave him a light sedative through the IV line.  We were waiting until you got here. To discuss what our next step should be.”

“There is no next step. At least not tonight,” Esme steps past the older woman, shoulder aggressively bumping into her.  “I don’t want anyone going in his room. Not you, not another nurse. No one.”

“You think it’s safe for you to go in?” Julie follows as she strides quickly and purposefully through the ICU’s sliding doors and down the main hell. “He was violent with staff.”

“Tyler isn’t going to hurt me. He’s never hurt me. Not even at his worst. I’m not scared of him. I never have been.”

“There’s always a first time. And in your condition…”

“My husband would never EVER do anything to me. I have seen him in the darkest, most terrifying place possible. When I had to take a gun out of his hand so he wouldn’t kill himself. Not even then did he hurt me.  He doesn’t have it in him. Not even when he’s like this.”

“If it comes down to it and he does act up again and threatens to hurt you…”

“He’s not going to. I’ve spent years with that man. And I’ve gone through hell and back with him many times. And I have never once felt threatened by him.”

“...we’ll have to take more severe measures. To control him.”

Esme pauses in front of the closed door to Tyler’s room. “Control him? He’s not a fucking animal. So don’t you dare talk about him like he is. He’s a goddamn human being!”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t…”

“He’s scared and he’s in pain and he’s had decades of bullshit dumped onto him. His father, fighting in wars and having to see things and do things that only exist in your worst nightmares, the job and all the crap that comes with it.  Just because he isn’t like everyone else in here...doesn’t have what you think is a normal, respectable life...doesn’t mean you can talk about him like that. No one...and I mean no one...disrespects my husband like that.”

“I meant control as in a medical standpoint. As in…”

“I don’t give a shit how you meant it.  You have no idea what he’s been through. The things that have been done to him. And I’m not just talking now. I’m talking about his entire life. None of you in here could ever understand it and you sure as hell could never survive it yourself.”

“I’m sorry, I…”

“I don’t want anyone coming into his room unless I need help or I say it’s okay. Do I make myself clear?”

“Esme, I…”

“Do I make myself clear?” she forcibly repeats, and then waits for a simple nod in confirmation before slipping into the room. Struggling not to slam the door angrily behind her.

***

The room is illuminated solely by the moonlight streaming through the window, and at first she wonders if she’s too late and he’s already fallen asleep; succumbing to whatever drug they had forced into him.  His head turned away from her; his profile soft and peaceful, even with the rows of scars and the numerous bruises and superficial wounds that mar his face. Breathing slow and steady; hands clasped together and resting on his stomach.  Regardless, she errs on the side of caution; not wishing to startle him by ‘sneaking up’.

“Hey sleeping beauty, ” her voice is calm and quiet as she approaches the bed. “You awake or…?”

The sigh is long and shaky, but there’s a small, soft smile on his face when he turns his head towards her. "I’m awake.”

“How are you feeling?”  She puts down the railing on the bed in order to get closer to him, then pushes her hand through his hair and presses a kiss to his temple. “I heard you caused a little bit of drama earlier.”

“Just a bit.”

His voice is unusually soft and quiet; mentally and physically exhausted   tinted with sleep and  the effects of the sedation he’d been given. But it’s his face that hurts the most; not the bruises or the swelling or the soon to be removed stitches. She’s seen him in worse condition; in a medically induced coma with a breathing tube down his throat and wound vac attempting to heal the bullet hole on the side of his neck.  It’s how lost he looks; so scared and vulnerable.  As if he’s already admitted defeat.

“Are you okay now? Are you feeling better?”

“Now that you’re here I am.”

“Sweet talker,” she chides, laying a hand on his cheek and  placing a tender kiss on his lips.

“I was wondering if you’d even show up.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“They told me they weren’t even going to call you. That you told them not to.”

“You believed them?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. My heart knows one thing, but my brain is telling me something else.”

“I would never, EVER, tell them that.  Not when it comes to you. I don’t know why they would say that, but it’s not true. All I care about is how you’re doing. Of course I’d want to know if something happened.  Are you okay now?”

“I wanna go home.”

“I know you do. And I want that too, believe me. That’s all I do want. You well enough to get the hell out of here.”

“Is it true? That they won’t let me go home if I don’t see a shrink? Do so many hours with me? Is it true you were okay with that?”

“No Tyler, that’s not true. None of that is true. I’d never do that to you. I wanted them to get you help. Sooner, not later.  But I didn’t agree to any of that. That was never brought up to me, and I’d never be okay with it. I don’t know why they would say that to you, but it’s not true. You believe me, right?”

He nods.  “I believe you. You have to find a way. To get me home.  I need to go home.”

“I can’t just do that. I can’t just tell them that’s what I want. It’s not that easy, baby. I wish it was.”

“You’re in charge, right? Of what happens to me? What they can do?”

Esme nods.

“You need to find a way.  Please. You have to.”

“Okay,” she agrees, and presses a series of soft pecks across his forehead and over his eyes, down his nose and then onto his lips. “I’ll find a way. I promise. First thing in the morning, okay? There’s nothing I can do tonight.”

“You’ll stay? With me?”

“Of course I will. Where else would I go?”

“Where’s Addie?”

“Andy took her back to the hotel. He’ll bring her in the morning so you can spend some time with her. Sound good?”

He nods. “Sounds good.”

“For now, why don’t we get you out of this?” She tugs at the blood stained hospital gown. “That’s the least they could have done; got you into something clean. I brought some t-shirts yesterday; I figured once you got a regular IV, you’d rather wear real clothes.”

“I already got the stupid thing in me,” he nods down at his left hand; layers of tape holding the IV in place.

“Did you forget?” She lightly  tousels his hair and moves away from the bed; journeying over to the small closet on the far side of the room. “ I know how to disconnect it. The home care nurse showed me; after our first trip to Dhaka.”

“Are you supposed to be disconnecting it?”

“Are you going to tell on me?” she asks, and then selects a well worn and faded t-shirt from a backpack she’d stored in the closet the day before.

He manages a grin. “I’m no snitch.”

“I even brought your favourite one,” she says, and holds the item in question by the shoulders, turning it to face him.  Maroon in color, with Emery surfboards name and logo emblazoned in black across the front.

His smile, although still sleepy, is much broader now. “That’s the one you and Millie got me. For my first Father’s Day.”

“This thing has seen better days. It’s got holes and it’s frayed all around the neck and the sleeves. Not  to mention five babies have all drooled and puked up on it. It’s practically even see through.”

“You were still pregnant with the twins. Big time pregnant.”

“That’s what I get for having babies with a giant.”

“You were so beautiful. You always are. With every baby.”

“You are so smooth,” she teases, and leans down to press to a kiss to his lips. “Even when you’re doped up.”

“It’s true. You are. Most beautiful pregnant woman ever. Most beautiful woman PERIOD.”

She grins. “You’re laying it on pretty thick, Mister Rake. What have you done?”

“Threatened to kill a few people.”

“Well you didn’t follow through on it and that’s all that matters.  Maybe now they’ll realize that sometimes your bite IS worse than your bark. It’s what they get, if you ask me; for not listening to a damn word I said. Hold this…” she playfully  tosses the tee on top of his head, then tends to disconnecting  the IV and med lines and sealing them off with the discarded caps sitting on the nightstand.

He peels the shirt from his face. “She just kept pushing and pushing. She wouldn’t let it go. The whole thing about the shrink and why didn’t I want to do it? Why would I just keep being this way and then eventually snap and take it out on you and the kids?”

“She thought was handling it the right way.  I guess she thought scaring you into agreeing was the right way to go. And I’m sorry. That she said those things.  I never told her to   say any of that.”

“I know you didn’t. That’s not you. Saying shit like that. That’s not who you are. You love me too much.”

“Oh you’re finally admitting that are you? Only took you seven years. Your arm going to be okay? Getting a shirt on?”

He nods. “I can’t feel a damn thing right now. That must be some good shit they’re giving me.”

“Some of the best there is.”  She tends to the ties at the back of his neck, then removes the blood stained garment towards the hamper at the end of the bed. “Looks pretty good,” she says, as gentle fingertips gingerly examine the stitches -thirty five in total- that grace his left shoulder blade. “How’d you do that again?”

“Caught it on some metal. After someone tried to shoot me in the head.”

“I’ll take you being stitched up over THAT any day of the week.”  She tugs the t-shirt over his head, then lends minimal assistance as he cautiously moves his arms into the holes on the sleeves; patiently waiting he completes the task himself before pulling the garment down over his chest and torso. “Better?”

“Better. You know, I kind of like you taking care of me.”

Esme grins. “Those MUST be some strong drugs. You admitting that.”  She combs her fingers through his hair, placing a kiss to the bridge of his nose before resting her forehead against his. “Tired?”

“A little.”

“You should get some sleep. I know what you’re like after an episode. How exhausted you get.”

“You’ll stay?”

“I already said I would. You don’t have to worry; I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ever?”

“Ever,” she promises.

“I’m sorry,” his voice quivers with emotion.

“For what?”

“Everything.”

She pulls back to look at him. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

“It’s been a hell of a shitty seven years.”

“No. It hasn’t. It’s been a pretty amazing seven years. Your brain only wants you to remember the bad stuff. You’re not the horrible person it’s making you out to be, Tyler. You’ve never been that person. And I wish I knew what to do to get it to stop telling you those things. But you’re not the monster it says you are. And we’ve had more great times than really bad times. You’ve made me smile a lot more than you’ve made me cry.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“I am. And you helped make five beautiful, incredible little human beings. You’re an amazing daddy. And an even better husband. Your brain can’t  take that all away. One day it won’t be telling you those things.  I promise.”

“I don’t want to be this way.”

“I know you don’t. And once we’re home, we’ll get you help. Real help. But you have to work with me okay? You need to cooperate even just a little bit, alright?”

“Alright.”

“If I’m there, you’ll talk to someone?”

“If you’re there, I’ll do it.”

“I just want you to be okay. Not just your body, your brain too. All of you. And we’ll get you there. Even if it’s baby steps at first.”

“Why do you stay? With me? Why do you put up with all of this?”

“I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that a good enough reason? I love you. Simple as that.”

“Even when I want to die?”

“Do you? Want to die?”

“Sometimes,” he admits.

“Is that what your brain is telling you? That you want to die?”

He nods.

She struggles to keep the emotion out of her voice.  Throat impossibly tight. Heart breaking. “It’s telling you that right now?”

Another nod.

“You need to fight that, okay? You need to ignore that voice that’s telling you that.”

“You’d be better off. You and the kids. Without me.”

“No. We wouldn’t. Life suck without you in it,” she holds his face in her hands, placing her lips against his forehead. “You are so loved, Tyler. You are so loved and we would miss you so much. I don’t want to do this without you. Raise these kids. Especially with a new baby on the way. And I know you want to see that baby.  How much you want to see all your babies grow. So you need to ignore that voice. The one that’s telling you all of this.”

“It’s hard,” he admits. “It’s so fucking hard.”

“I know,” she pecks his lips. “But we’ll get you through this. I promise. You don’t have to do this alone. But right now, you need to rest, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll even rest with you. You promise you’re not a snitch?”

“I promise.”

Kissing him once again, she toes off her running shoes, then turns off the light behind the bed before putting the railing down.  “This is the one time I’m glad you’re a human furnace,” she says, as she slides in next to him, careful to mind the IV tubing.  “There’s not enough blankets in this room . Just keep your damn cold feet to yourself.”

“Well I can’t really move the right, so…”

She moves onto her side, snuggling as tightly as she can into him, head on his chest and a hand on his stomach. “Good? You comfy?”

His hand finds the middle of her back. “Very.”

“If you snore, this might be night I smother you with your pillow,” she teases.

“I’ll try my best not to,” he promises.  “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she says, and tips her face up towards him for a goodnight kiss.

She relaxes under the weight of his chin upon her head, and finds herself comforted by the steady beat of his heart; feeling the way his body rises and falls with each breath and how his fingertips soothingly   glide up and down her back. And she waits until she knows he’s asleep;   those breaths becoming shallow and evening out,  his hand stilling before falling limp at his side.  It’s a small bit of normalcy; welcome and needed. And she nestles her face further into chest and closes her eyes.

[yueln]

i have my second counselling session tomorrow after stopping it for a long time and at this point im just so fucking relieved that im actually starting therapy again because for the longest time i could not, for the life of me, figure out why i have been so fucking low on energy, motivation and productivity and just generally being a total fuck up with everything that happens in my social circle.

like quarantine has forced me to realise that i fucking need help, i really fucking need help in the most urgent way because none of this is normal, it’s not normal to cry until i have a permanent throbbing headache and had to take twice the painkillers so i can function, it’s not normal to be so fucking obsessed with my social life yet so fucking afraid of it at the same time that i perpetuate this ongoing cycle of malignant coping mechanism where i become physically incapable of replying to anyone out of FEAR. it’s definitely, DEFINITELY not normal to literally work until i become sick just so i don’t have to think about getting help and putting up the facade that i am emotionally stable and that im doing okay.

like no SHIT im not doing well in my studies atm, there’s a fucking pandemic going on and i think i have some sort of undiagnosed mental health issue. maybe it’s depression, maybe it’s anxiety, maybe it’s a fucked up mixture of both and a splash of narcissism, i dont knOW. all i know is that i can’t work, i can’t maintain healthy friendships, and there’s some unresolved trauma that i’ve been hardcore avoiding for a long fucking time. 

it’s incredibly hard for my brain to do any task that is remotely related to productivity and learning in my home because ive been so conditioned to work better in libraries and designated study spaces that home just isNT a place where my brain is tuned in for studying and this shit is so fucking hard man, ive never struggled more in studying than before and honestly? like okay, just fucking fail me this semester i literally do not care anymore, i need therapy and help first and foremost, staying healthy and sane is my main priority now and i’d literally do anything to make sure that im happy over how much ive achieved for once in my life.

like im really looking forward to therapy, i really want to start to get better, at this point how isnt a question, i’ll do it no matter what the method is. last week i couldnt even get out of bed for like 5 days but today i baked bread, did laundry and put on a real outfit. im getting somewhere, i really wish that this time the trajectory won’t change again, because for the past 6 months it’s just been a fucked up roller coaster ride and im fucking tired of it, i want to get off. i really don’t care what i have to cut out of my life so i can get better.

[tribridkissed]

Everything Afflicting Lil’ Ol’ Me…

Sleep Paralysis:

Starting off with the basics here because this has been what sort of started it all. When I was little, I was super into the whole idea of spirits. I honestly still am for different reasons, but it started when I was young and having sleep problems. The doctors still don’t know why it started, but I’ve always thought I sensed ‘presences’ so I told ghost stories…because I saw ‘ghosts’ in my sleep, some of which were terrifying and would sit on my chest and I’d still feel that feeling when I woke up, so duh it was real.

When I was a teenager, I started getting these hallucinations far more vividly and the doctors started to take it a lot more seriously, especially when I was getting depressed and suicidal on top of it all. Turned out I had ‘Old Hag’s Syndrome’, or ‘Sleep Paralysis’, and there was now a logical explanation for it. Basically my brain wakes up sometimes before my body does, and I’m paralyzed but I can still see the hallucinations. Feeling pinned down and violated is honestly the worst, and it fucks me up for the rest of the day mentally when it happens. It is why I’m against lucid dreaming, and why I vehemently believe in demons and evil spirits even if doctor’s wanna just call it a hallucination induced by stress. Either way, I have insomnia sometimes too and my sleep is all over the place and that never helps one’s body.

Hormone Imbalances

My hormones have probably been all over the place my whole puberty experience? Like, my periods started out being heavy, irregular and painful. I know that’s mostly normal--we women handle cramps like a boss, okay?--but I would have to stay home from school once or twice in a row every time I got my period, because I was curled up in a ball hurling: much like I do now. Going on birth control helped for a while and then started to make it worse, so we took me off of the birth control and my period started to even out and I stopped getting so sick, unless I ovulated from both sides and not just one, which they found out was also happening. Yay for the possibility of twins naturally, but yikes to the extra hormone surges.

Paraxysmol AFib:

I went through a whole stint of my early 20′s having palpitations in my chest. I just attributed it to my anxiety, and to stress because I had just finished a whole High School career of only honor’s classes, and I had switched from Pre-Med to Early Childhood Development, and so even when the doctors from an arrhythmia, I just sort of dismissed it. I didn't have the time, I was working twelve hours days as a nanny, I was doing college, and I didn't have time...and then I had an AFib attack after exercising and ended up having chest pain.

That pain lasted a month and a half without going away or getting any better, I had a bunch of doctors tell me I was being a hypochondriac, and then I got put on a heart monitor. The heart monitor caught not one but two episodes in the span of three weeks, and it was only then that they took me seriously. So even though I was ‘too young’ and ‘healthy’, I ended up becoming a heart patient at the ripe old age of 25, and it has been part of my life ever since. I take medicine daily to keep my heart rate down, because it beats too fast on its own, and I had to cut down on coffee, which...I was a caffeine addict so that was rough, lol. I’ve had to change dosages, which stresses my body out for a week each time that happens, and it has just been who I am now. I have heart patient jewelry and everything, just in case of emergencies.

Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome

So this all brings me to the next big thing: cyclic vomiting syndrome. I have been sick for 6 months now, nauseous basically every day, vomiting stints every once in a while that land me in urgent care to get IV fluids and meds because nothing will stay in my stomach, it all comes up. This started back in August, now known actual cause, and it has been my main affliction these days. I am on antacid medications, my heart medicine still, and anti nausea I have to take every single day. My body is exhausted, and that’s not even the half of it.

The doctors aren’t even fully sure this is what is going on with me, this is just how they are treating me because they can’t find anything. I have had an MRI, CT scans, ultrasounds, blood tests of all sorts (food allergies, diabetes, etc.), and everything says I am healthy. I have had a tumor removed from my esophagus when they did the endoscopy in the beginning, and I had a history of cysts (I’ve had one in my head, in my arm pits, and now one in my right nasal cavity), and I have a second and third tumor growing in my right arm. They aren’t convinced any of this is related, they just know that my period problem from high school is happening again, so they’re convinced it is hormone induced cyclic vomiting syndrome...which has no for sure cause or cure, so, that has been nice, and has triggered my depression, but I’ve been dealing with my depression my entire life.

Depression/Abuse

Since I was a kid, I’ve had a messed up home life. My uncle did some truly horrible things before he ended up eventually in jail for four life sentences, and short story on that because I simply don’t talk about it, is he used to tape my sister and I shut in boxes, and threaten us with his pet snake. He even through a knife at my cousin once, and would put my sister and up on the top shelf of the closet and leave us there.

On top of that, my Dad was never around much, and he left for good when I was 7, the same year that my grandmother died from the chemo for her ovarian cancer. He is a whole other story in itself, but he only added to my abandonment issues when I was 21 and he showed back up ONLY to talk my sister and I out of making him pay off the back child support he owed (it was a whole thing), and having the audacity to say he stayed away because he loved us...but raised our half siblings, so...just. I don’t like talking about him either.

Then I had a mother who was constantly verbally abusing my sister and I--she still does--and calling us fat even when we were skinny. Telling us we wasted our potential, telling us we’re useless, etc., and only recently getting herself the help she needs for her own emotional issues because she too was abused. Our family is filled with abusers, and she’s much better now that we’ve all addressed we have some problems, but dealing with that on top of all the other things that I deal with now, has been rough.

I feel broken. My mother tells me not to say that, but all of my health issues, and my failed past relationships with boys that have thus kept me single the last three years, make me feel that way. I’m a demisexual person who had two boyfriends cheat because they couldn’t wait for me to be ready for sex, and one basically admit after a little while that he just wanted sex and was “putting up with my feelings until then”, and I dunno, I delved farther into writing and honestly, it has been my only constant.

I’ve been writing stories since I was 6, and this is a hobby, yes, but it is also an escape when I’m not working on my stuff to get published (I’ve actually been a published author since 2011). I’m editing my second book right now and it gets priority sometimes when I’m in a funk, but I have been so sick lately because of my stomach, and just so tired and stressed with work really only keeping me on because they can’t fire me when I have medical reasons and doctor’s notes, and I just thought you guys should know.

I try to be on because writing helps me not think about all of my issues, but sometimes I’m so tired, or so sick, that I just can’t do replies. Plus, my arm with the tumors has been hurting more and more lately, and I may have to get them removed, which will mean another two weeks of a sling and pain meds, and crying myself to sleep because recovery from arm surgery hurts.

So if I’m ever slow, something is up. I love being around to write--it’s my safe space--but I’ve been dealing with a lot lately. I really do love and appreciate all of you, and I’m so grateful that you guys are so patient with me. <3

[mthrodrgns1315]

Here We Go...

Hyperemesis Gravidarum:

noun

persistent severe vomiting leading to weight loss and dehydration, as a condition occurring during pregnancy.

Most people by now know of Kate Middleton's multiple hospitalizations as a result of her severe Hyperemesis Gravidarum. We've heard of her sickness, her hospitalizations, her emergency IV fluids, etc. We also heard the media downplay it, which was absolutely heartbreaking for those of us in the general public who also suffered from it.

Like Princess Kate, I also suffered from it. Twice. They were the two worst experiences of my life (aside from losing my beloved cat and everything my little family owned in the Paradise, CA Camp Fire on November 8, 2018). Throwing up every 15 minutes like clockwork, all day and all night, unable to eat or drink anything, being hospitalized and requiring emergency IV fluids (a challenge in itself because I was so severely dehydrated that my veins collapsed), wishing for anything to make it stop, losing 30 pounds in two weeks, being starving but unable to eat. Every. Single. Day. For four straight months. Twice. And compared to most fellow HG sufferers, I had it easy!

But I was promised that giving birth would be the end of it all. That, as soon as I held my little baby in my arms, as soon as I welcomed them into the world, it would all end. Like magic. Boom. Over. Done. And while the constant vomiting did end as soon as I gave birth, and while I was able to eat chicken nuggets (or everything for that matter, but chicken nuggets were my biggest craving) for my first postpartum meal, the magical end to it all was...not a lie, but definitely not as promised. I can't call it a lie, because Hyperemesis Gravidarum is researched so rarely and has been studied so little, that no doctor knows all the effects (short or long-term) of it yet.

For myself, and a very large majority of the women in the Hyperemesis Gravidarum survivor's group on Facebook, the after effects consist of regular and unexplainable nausea, gallbladder disease, PTSD, anxiety, depression, flashbacks, and eating disorders (overwhelmingly binge eating).

When I gave birth to my kids, I had dropped to my lowest weight ever: 135 lbs. Which is typically an ideal weight for my height, but I had been literally starved down to that weight. So although my weight was healthy, I did not, in ANY way, look healthy. My eyes were dark and sunken. My cheeks were hollow, my collar bones jutted out, I was anemic, etc. It's been seven years since my first HG pregnancy, and my relationship with food is anything but healthy now. In one year since having my youngest (now 5), I ballooned from 135 to 200 lbs. I have since been diagnosed with a binge eating disorder and have been struggling greatly to overcome it. My reactions to food are extremely unhealthy, because to my brain, survival mode has become permanent. There is a constant uncertainty on when I will be able to have my next meal, or if I will be able to keep down the one I've just finished. As a result, I eat as much as I can (until it is literally painful for me before I've even left the friggin table), as often as I can. I get highly defensive over my food, basically behaving much in the same way as a dog with resource guarding problems does. Because it's mine. MY food. If I don't eat it all right this very second, eat every single morsel, I will pay for it later. I will starve to death. I will throw it all up. I will, once again, end up in the hospital, being poked and prodded with thick needles as an entourage of nurses attempt multiple veins across my arms, hands, and fingers to administer IV fluids. Of course, none of this comes true anymore. I can no longer have kids. My OB/GYN saw to that when she "obliterated my tubes." Just picturing being pregnant again makes my entire body shake it scares me so much. I am absolutely terrified I will end up pregnant again through some freak accident of nature.

And even though I KNOW all this, even though the rational and logical side of my brain is more than well aware of these facts, the part that is still gripped by PTSD after all these years is what controls my actions regarding food in the end. My weight number continues to grow, as does my jeans size and waistline (and boobs, much to my dismay).

So here I am, doing a public journaling of sorts, hoping that having some public accountability will help me push through the mental issues in the aftermath of multiple HG pregnancies. My goal is to get down to my ideal weight of, ironically, 135 lbs (a healthy weight for my height), but this time, I will do it in a healthy way. I won't restrict my eating, doing fad diets or by starving myself (as I've, sadly, tried before). This time, I'm going to exercise, starting slowly and working on making it a daily habit rather than forcing it, and I will work on rationalizing through my anxiety and fear surrounding food, while also working to portion out my food better. My hope, is that I will become a healthier person, more mentally than physically. Because, to be honest, it isn't even really the weight that bothers me. Most people tell me I don't look 200 lbs (thanks to an hourglass figure that gains weight proportionately). It is the physical effects of that weight that bothers me: my knees always hurt, I am constantly tired, etc. But more importantly, it's the mental effects this eating disorder causes that really, truly bothers me. It is the main reason for my depression, for my anxiety. Because every time I binge, I feel terrible afterward. I am in literal physical pain, and I feel guilty; I've snapped at my kids who just wanted one tiny bite (just a little taste), I feel guilty for letting myself do it again, I feel physically exhausted and even more depressed, and I feel absolutely stupid for ignoring the rational part of my brain again and letting my trauma take over, I feel just generally...terrible.

I'm gonna try to post daily, working through my progress and (let's be real) setbacks, my thoughts and mental changes, my moments of logic, my downfalls, and my triumphs. I, in no way, expect this to be easy. I know this will be hard, but I made it through HG twice. I can do this too, eventually. And maybe I can help women in the same position I'm in along the way.

Well, now that I've rambled for a few pages, here I go.

[btamamura]

Sorry, this is a long post so you can feel free to just scroll past. I wrote this on the app since the web page hates my devices, so there is no Read More cut.

Time to open up to my followers.

If you’ve known me for a while, you’d know my battles over the last few years. For the new folks, here it is - I have been living with a chronic illness since November 1, 2014, and it has been awful.

It started out as just chronic nausea. We thought it might’ve been something I ate or a lingering case of gastro. But, that changed February the next year when the pain started.

I woke up one morning to find I was in extreme pain in my feet. I hadn’t injured myself but my feet felt like the bones had been shattered. The lightest touch made the pain even worse, so I was just lying on my back, feet in the air, crying and crying, trying not to scream and wishing it would just go away. The pain faded over the next couple of weeks, but never left completely. It was just an annoyance or painful but not excruciating. My grandfather offered for me to see a podiatrist, he would pay if not bulk-billed, because he thought maybe it was from the many years of walking on my toes.

The next day, right before my cousin’s birthday party, which I had planned on attending for at least an hour just to say hello to the family, the same horrible pains started in my hands. Dad just had to take one look at me to know I would not be going. I asked him, through my tears, in half-seriousness if he could find his axe and chop my hands off so I never had to feel that pain again.

I found a clinic to attend with my grandfather’s help. I saw a doctor about my symptoms. She focused on the nausea, even if I kept saying “I’m in worse pain today!”, so I tried seeing a different doctor in the clinic. The first doctor had ordered a gastroscopy to be done to see if there was something going on in my stomach.

The second doctor kept ordering the same blood tests - iron, b12, vitamin d. And even once those levels had been corrected, I was still sick and sore. I had since had my gastroscopy, which came up clear. The second doctor looked me in the eye and said outright that she believed I had to be faking in order to get out of looking for work. I was already upset that the gastroscopy had no answers (I’d already said I would cry if it came up clear, just as I would’ve if it found a tumour developing in my stomach), but then to hear that from someone who was meant to help?! I broke down crying and told her if everything I had missed in the time I had been sick. By this time, it was early 2016.

I told her of missing visiting my niece as a newborn. Of how I couldn’t attend my cousin’s engagement, Hen’s night and wedding. Of how I couldn’t attend my pop’s funeral. Or the missed annual dinners with Nan and Pop before his passing. (Pop is my dad’s stepfather and was a big part of my life growing up despite living far away.) How I had planned a holiday to the Gold Coast for my 30th birthday but instead spent that day in bed, struggling to down my food and avoiding the family as they ate theirs because the smell made my nausea worse. Of the Christmases I spent sick in bed and unable to visit my mother’s grave. Of not being able to hang out with my sister and spend time with my young nephew and much younger niece. I refused to see that doctor again and left feeling terrible.

New doctor at a clinic my great-uncle visited. He decided to do the usual blood test but also tested to see if I was autoimmune. Yep, so he then tested to see if I had lupus. Nope. But, he still seemed to be doing more for me than the last two doctors. A week after the autoimmune result came in, I wound up in hospital. I hadn’t been able to eat or drink for a week because I was having difficulty swallowing. I wasn’t in a dangerous condition, so I was only admitted overnight for observation, having some fluids by IV and to speak with a speech therapist the next morning as I was put on a purée diet. While being observed, the doctor in hospital noticed something - a goitre.

Eating troubles started becoming more frequent at that time. By the end of 2016, I was struggling with abdominal pains and low appetite. There were sporadic days I couldn’t eat a thing. I attended another appointment where the doctor forced me to have two jelly babies because my blood sugar was low - no, I’m not diabetic. They came to a head in late-March of 2017.

I hadn’t eaten more than a nibble here and there and only barely sipped at a drink for a week. I was very unwell and after the third time of being sick, I decided I had to go up to the emergency department because something was very wrong. I was right - they saw me right away. I was in the early stages of Refeeding Syndrome due to starvation, my blood sugar was low, my ketones had gone up and my organs were slowly starting to shut down. My blood was acidic. I was told to try sipping at apple juice, but it was no good, I couldn’t even muster that.

I was moved to short stay while waiting to transfer to a ward. My time in hospital was scary, and not in the usual “I’m afraid of hospitals” way. I was in danger. I was diagnosed with starvation ketoacidosis (similar to diabetic but I’m not diabetic), as anorexic (no appetite version, not anorexia nervosa) and even if they tried to get me to eat, I struggled even with crackers. They put me on Ondansetron (usually for chemo and radiotherapy patients) to ensure anything I did try to eat would stay down. I was put on different infusions - saline, glucose, potassium (THAT HURT SO MUCH, I THOUGHT SOMEONE WAS TRYING TO SNAP MY ARM IN HALF AND I ACTUALLY PASSED OUT FROM THE PAIN!!) and others. I had blood tests at least twice a day and tests for my blood sugar and ketones every time I was about to eat or if I looked a bit more unwell. I had to be hooked up to a portable heart monitor, but the first night of that, my heart rate reached 150bpm just slowly walking to the toilet, and a Med Call was made to make sure I did not go into cardiac arrest. The doctor who made his rounds had to outright tell me that if I failed to eat, I would need to be put on a feeding tube or else I would die. That’s how bad it was. I was in for a week before I was deemed well enough and safe enough to go home.

The third doctor started to let me down, ordering the same blood tests to make it look like he knew what might be going on. No good. Wound up feeling too ill later in the year so I missed my uncle’s funeral.

In 2018, I started going downhill. Wound up hospitalised with starvation ketoacidosis again following a bout of gastro the day before. Falls also started occurring. But, it was no good, I couldn’t find a good doctor who could help instead of just playing around with the same old blood tests. I missed more events including my other niece’s first birthday and my great-uncle’s funeral.

2019, still struggling. I’m seeing a new doctor, but she very quickly lets me down by saying EVERYTHING is just tied to my anxiety. At least she took the lump in my breast seriously - thankfully not cancer. But, as the year progresses, a good doctor is finally found. My cousin helped me find a clinic that bulk-bills and is taking on patients.

My current GP listens every time I see her. Every. Time. I go in with a new symptom or concern, she orders the right tests or refers me to someone who can help. Through her help, I’ve been able to see a speech therapist about the ongoing swallowing issues, a physiotherapist about my falls, a dietician about my dietary issues which contribute to deficiencies, a surgeon about my goitre (he put me on medicine because my thyroid was a bit overactive - suspecting hyperthyroidism or any other forms of it - in the most recent blood test through the hospital when I went up by ambulance with chest pains, ordered a CT scan and believes the best course of action may be to perform a complete thyroidectomy, meaning removal of my thyroid), had me undergo full blood tests (not just the usual), had me undergo an ECG and TTE (trans-thoracic echo, an ultrasound of the heart) just to make sure all is well there since I keep having chest pains and most recently referred me to a neurologist because she believes my symptoms line up with a rare genetic condition. She’s also looking into finding a neuropsychologist who can help with an autism assessment.

Because of the help I’ve been receiving, I’ve been a bit more hopeful of a diagnosis finally coming in the near future. Because I’ve been seeing a physio who helped me with strengthening exercises for my legs, I have been able to go out walking for a little while - never out on the streets but yes in shopping centres, that way if something goes wrong, someone is nearby to get help.

I still feel nauseous (still on Ondansetron for that). I’m still in pain every second of every day. I still feel that weakness. But, I’m starting to have those okay moments where I can go shopping or play with my niece and nephew - both occurred over the last couple of days, a water fight two nights ago where I just stood there shooting a water pistol at them as they ran around me, and an hour out shopping with my niece. Yes, those hit hard the next day and up through the next week. I do not intend to push myself so hard I’m at risk of hospitalisation. But, I also need to work at rebuilding my stamina. My father and grandfather have special birthdays next year and I want to be able to attend the dinner organised...even if I can’t eat while there, as long as I’m there is what matters.

But, for now, it’s baby steps. Sitting up and watching a movie. Washing some dishes. Carefully playing with the kids. Try to keep the shopping trips short. Eat what is possible, not what is a must.

[whatshehassaid]

I usually don’t rant on here too much because - let’s be real - who cares? But I’m honestly so emotionally and physically exhausted at this point. It’s been a long ten fucking years with what feels like one horrible thing after the other. For ten years. I seriously can’t catch a break.

Rant continues below because I don’t want to clog any of your feeds, but I really just need to scream out into the universe right now.

I’m not even exaggerating. One thing after the other after the other after the other. On and on and on. Honestly, right before I graduated high school (this was like almost ten years ago - technically 8 - now which, wow? Okay. I’ll be 30 in like 4 years? When the hell did that happen?) I develop a damn invisible illness at 18 and it throws every single plan I have out of traction. I honestly was a super organized teenager, I had everything planned out. I wanted to go to school and get a BA in art history and do something with graphic design... That went straight out the window (which pisses me off incredibly to this day). Of course, I had my issues before this, mostly depression, a extreme anxiety disorder (which has gotten worse, by the way, thanks Crohn’s). In and out of jobs, having employers look down on me for stupid bullshit, going on medical leave twice, getting fired once (believe me, don’t get me started on that one). Developing Fibromyalgia, hundreds of hospital stays and doctors visits and on and on and on and on. Having doctors try to speak down to me like I wasn’t the one actually experiencing the severe pain I was going through. 

I honestly had a doctor refuse to fill out disability papers because as he said, “All my other patients are fine.” Yeah, okay, good job... couple years earlier he was saying I was the worst case he’d ever seen. Awful doctors, some good, most DREADFUL. Procedures, blood work, 20 different medications, some oral, some IV infusions, some self injected.... Steroids (ooof). Extreme weight loss, extreme weight gain... Extreme and utter exhaustion. When I did feel alright, there’s not enough energy for fun things... no money for fun things. Two years fighting the government for the right to disability payments with no lawyer ‘cause I couldn’t afford one. Stress, stress, stress... 

Depression and anxiety escalates. Physical pain escalates. Stress escalates. A never ending cycle. Feeling like I’m going through seven layers of hell. Dante would be intrigued. 

Of course I have friends, family.. they’re great, don’t get me wrong. I love them all. I had a guy I could confide in... that went to hell quite quickly. Broken hearts added to the list. Honestly just wanted someone I could feel safe with in that way you do with a soulmate.. distract me and make me feel safe, but apparently I can’t even have that. Not that I didn’t try, ‘cause I did... but that has yet to happen. This is why we can’t have nice things, darling.

Grandmother dies... first time I ever had to go to a funeral. She died in the middle of the night. My biggest trigger of all time. Had to see a dead body for the first time in my life and it scarred me and I developed an even worse anxiety disorder - if that’s even possible. Panic attacks, physical pain, mental pain, exhaustion, insomnia, heartbreak and on and on and on and on............

Thought I had a moment of happiness for a second there... then all hell broke loose. In and out of hospitals again. In and out of doctors offices again. Back on more medication.... month long hospital stays surrounded by death. Anxiety attacks on hospital gurneys... back of ambulances... Emergency surgery, ruin any sliver left of self confidence I even had. Yay, now I have emotional and physical scars.

If you’ve even made it this far, I applaud you. I don’t even know how I even did it. I had no choice but to. I’m a pathetic mess by the end of it, but I’ve made it this far..... 

Thing is people have it so much worse than me. I wish I could help. I feel useless, honestly. None of the things I’ve planned have ever happened - which, really, is not surprising. I think I deserve some happiness after all these years. It would be nice, but hope for a girl like me is..... I tend to spiral into it very quickly. I’m a very emotional and illogical person sometimes.

All I really want is love, safety, a couple cats... maybe eventually a baby. I never speak about that... but... I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about it. I want adventures, drinking wine and eating pizza while binge watching whatever show (reruns of Hannibal? - by the way... I’m still hoping it comes back), dancing in the kitchen... sigh. Forehead kisses... fantasy. Anyway. Moving on.

End of rant... I don’t think I can divulge anymore or I might get really emotional..

Just know, all of my followers and my mutuals - I love every single one of you. All the people that message me and say sweet things, it’s very appreciated. Also, if you guys need someone to rant to - I’m here for you. I want to help if it’s possible.

Love ya xx