#my doctor appointment is in August. just a few fucking months. God.

[miinos]

wah

[queenwendy]

Sometimes I get morbidly curious and scroll through the terf tag (bad idea) and half the time it makes me sad but the other half it makes me laugh my ass off because like… they seem to think anybody can walk into a doctor’s office, declare “I am trans!” And just get sex reassignment surgery??? Like, what???? That isn’t how that works at all

I’m a trans woman in the western US, and I am lucky enough to have A) supportive family and B) really fucking good healthcare through my family. To be clear, if you do not have A and especially if you do not have B good fucking luck getting blockers, much less hormones or dear god surgery! It’s nigh impossible!

In early 2018 when I was almost 15, I came out to my parents. Immediately I was put in therapy (that had more to do with the depression and suicidal ideation I experienced while in the closet than being trans). While social transition (different name, different clothes) happened pretty quickly, it wasn’t until my mental health stuff was dealt with that my therapist and doctor, both on the trans youth specialist team, started talking HRT.

The first step was puberty blockers. To get that approved I not only needed parent permission and a ton of forms, I was all but required to bank sperm (as a 15 year old!) and I had to socially transition and meet a bunch of WPATH requirements (I actually like WPATH a lot, to be clear) and wait through a months long waiting list just to get an appointment with a psychiatrist, who then asked me a bunch of questions (he was nice, I do not remember the questions, this was years ago) to ensure I didn’t have some other problem. After passing that, I got a prescription for nogonadotropin as a puberty blocker.

From the time I first told doctors I was trans to the time I had my first blockers shot, a little over 6 months had passed. To be clear, in the US, that’s fast. In the UK? That’s impossibly fast.

It then took another 6 months of blood test, questioners, meetings with my doctor and my parents and my therapists before I was finally cleared for estradoil tablets. 1 mg/day. I got them nearly on the year to the day from when I came out. I was nearly 16

Again, that is crazy fast.

Within a year and a half my estradoil doseage had increased to 6mg/day and I was on 100mg/day of progesterone as well. Eventually that became 200mg/day. Years later I switched from estradoil tablets to estradoil shots.

The entire time I have seen the same therapist, not just for trans healthcare but also mental health stuff. I got SSRIs for anxiety, got an ADHD diagnosis, etc.

In fall of 2022 (I was 19), I reached out to my doctor to say I wanted bottom surgery. We had talked about doing it before, but I had always said “I don’t know if I’m ready.” I was unsure. And even though I could have gotten at least an orchiectomy after I turned 16 if I really wanted to (with parental permission and I am sure so much medical red tape I would have been an adult by the time it happened), I never wanted it. My doctors were surprised I wanted it, so were my folks.

I had to meet with my therapist several times, coordinate with a social worker, and get 2 or 3 letters of recommendation from doctors. Then I needed to unravel who and what my insurance cost and find surgeons I wanted to consult with. That took MONTHS. It wasn’t until fall of 2023, a full year later, that I was FINALLY was able to schedule with two of the three surgeons I wanted (we’ll get to that third one in a bit).

It is now the last days of august 2024. I had my first consultation, which was out of state, earlier this month. It went well. If I had scheduled a surgery date right then and there, there would have been a year long wait time. Which again, is a very very small wait time. I didn’t though, because I wanted to consult with other surgeons and I knew that would be smack in the middle of graduate school.

My second consultation (which, ugh, I need to do some phone calls for to figure out transportation!) is in a few months. The third one? I’m still on a waiting list to GET A CONSULTATION.

To be clear, neither my parents nor my doctors ever pressured me into anything. My folks were completely blindsided when I came out and had basically no idea how to proceed besides using a different name. My doctors always said “well, here’s your options and all the risks. You want that? Okay, think on it for a month and we’ll discuss next steps at our next appointment.” All of this was my choice. Mine. And they never tried to stop me either, just make sure I was being safe and following procedure.

Both my younger sister and my cousin on my mom’s side are trans as well. Considering we have several blood relatives on that side of the family who are also LGBTQ+ going back at least to the 1940s, assume there’s a genetic predisposition for it. Both my sister and my cousin have had a lot harder of a time getting HRT, even though my sister has the same insurance, same provider, same psychologist as me (idk what my cousin’s insurance situation is).

Odds are, I will have my graduate degree (environmental engineering) before I undergo surgery. Maybe even before I have a date for undergoing surgery. If all goes well, I graduate in may 2026. I’ve agreed with my girlfriend that once we graduate in 2026 if we’re still together I’ll feel comfortable getting engaged, so it’s very possible that I will be fucking married before I get SRS. Y’know, assuming it isn’t outlawed or anything.

When I was 14, I figured out I was a girl. Without talking to anybody, I knew I wanted a female body and that the puberty I was going through wasn’t right. Looking back, there were times I almost knew when I was 11, when I was 7, when I was only 3. At that age, I considered “surgery is something I might do when I’m older. I dunno. Right now I have crippling depression and cheat dysphoria, I really just want to be called the right name and pronouns and have HRT.”

I am now 21. I haven’t undergone any surgeries in that time, at all (except wisdom teeth removal ig. Does that count?). I have had one (1) SRS consultation, and the soonest I could get surgery is a year from now, but odds are it will be in two years. Maybe three even.

There is no epidemic of children being told they are trans and getting surgeries. That doesn’t fucking happen. If you’re really worried about kids getting unnecessary surgery look into the weird world of rich white girls getting facelifts and breast enlargement surgeries and stuff. At no doctor’s office in this country can you walk in with one set of genitals and walk out with another at the drop of a hat. There is a YEARS long medical process that happens before a consultation is even scheduled. And before that there is a trans person’s entire earlier life of doubt and questioning and fear and pain.

[astramthetaprime]

The Balance of a Hair

On August 12th, I woke up at 5 AM and lay there a few moments before I smelled the most horrible nauseating smell.

A moment later my mind shorted out and for at least a couple minutes I lay there not able to fit thoughts together, not even enough to know what was going on around me -- not my dog beside me, the ceiling over my head, the blanket across my chest.

It passed after a couple minutes.

And I got up to start my day an hour earlier than usual since there was no way I could get back to sleep.

This has been happening since about 2021 or 2022. It's inconvenient since it usually happens several times over the course of a day, but happens in no discernible pattern over the course of months. It doesn't seem to cause any permanent damage, has no cause I've been able to determine. Just the horrible vomit-inducing smell and dissociative episode, lasts a couple minutes, might make me almost throw up, might make me kind of shaky after two or three times in a day. But then it's gone and I go on with my life.

I hadn't been paying much attention, because it did no lasting harm.

But now, I'm working outside of the house and having to drive to work five days a week. And on the 12th, it happened while I was driving on one of the busiest roads in my city, surrounded by early morning rush hour traffic.

I'm all right. I didn't hit anyone. But the very real possibility that I could have easily killed myself or someone else crossed a line and once I got to work I called my doctor to make an appointment.

They managed to schedule me fairly quickly and I went in this past week. I'd written down all I could piece together about the incidents and gave it to my NP.

She completely ignored the parts where I dissociated in the middle of rush hour traffic, claimed it was just acid reflux, and prescribed Pepcid for it.

Then, out of left field, she wrote a referral for an ADHD assessment and a prescription for Adderall, when I had said nothing about that and hadn't asked for it.

She just ... threw an addictive stimulant at me. Because, y'know, nothing bad ever comes of easy access to addictive psychoactive stimulant drugs. ( /sarcasm )

Throughout my life, I've avoided drugs at all costs whenever I could. Some drugs are beneficial, I'm on three without which I would be dead. But for several years in my 20s I was on Paxil, an SSRI anti-depressant. They tell you it's non-addictive. The hell it isn't. You build up a tolerance for it and have to keep upping the dosage to get the same effect. And God help you if you're forced to give it up cold turkey. Ask me how I know.

(Pro tip, if you have to give up Paxil cold turkey, it makes your head spin like a top, to the point of vomiting. Keep a supply of motion sickness meds at hand -- Dramamine -- and keep on it until you're clean of the Paxil. You're welcome.)

Beyond this, it is strongly implied now that I'm considered to have both ADHD and Autism. I didn't come to the ADHD conclusion myself. I'm still really coming to terms with being Autistic. But now, ADHD and substances I am not sanguine about allowing into my body. It's a matter of agency, of bodily autonomy. I didn't consent to this, really. I was told out of the blue that I would be assessed for ADHD when I hadn't asked for that and hadn't been prepared for it.

Another pit opened beneath me, and I don't know who I am anymore.

I can't see by this new light.

The edit for my manuscript came back on Monday, it's Friday, I haven't even been able to open the file to start on it. $1600 for that edit, I haven't even been able to open the file.

But by God two nights ago I did a solid two hours on Ember Star because I took an Adderall at noon and nine hours later I was still going strong.

Am I being played by my NP because she has a quota to fill? She's short on her Adderall scripts this month and there's crazy old Aunty Proton, Autistic as fuck, we'll just slap down that referral and a script and hey we're up by one. Latest statistics say 70% of Autistics also qualify as ADHD, she probably is, we'll just get the cart before the horse and throw drugs at a problem that hasn't even been diagnosed yet.

No one seems to see me here, losing all my concept of who I am.

There's probably a drug for that too.

[jodilin65]

SATURDAY, AUGUST 5, 2000 That was different. We screwed earlier. I don’t think we would’ve if I hadn’t suggested it, but I wanted to see if he’d actually go for it early in the day and on a Saturday, or if he’d give time frames, which is kind of a turn-off to me.

I woke up early at 5:30 cuz of having to take a Benadryl last night at 8:30 for my fucking allergies. Right on time, too. I mean, I was scheduled for an all-day attack. This one came in spurts but was still bad enough.

He burned at the usual time of 7:00 and helped me fill out the doctor’s questionnaire to take with me for my no doubt waste-of-time appointment.

Mary’s been more cursed than me health-wise. They had to send a scope down her throat and up her nose. Yuck! She said they sprayed her with something that numbed her, and it wasn’t as bad as she thought it’d be, but still yucky. She’s been having pain in her throat and I guess she has a lump that needs to be biopsied, although the doctor says it’s probably non-malignant.

Later…

The red Mexican pickup drove by for the second or third time since I last mentioned it. Its music has been soft, but loud enough to get what they want and to achieve the purpose of buying those fucking stereos in the first place – for me, among others I’m sure, to be forced to notice it.

My inevitable, fated-to-be nightmare might be arriving in back before too long. I saw a U-Haul parked at the closest rental, attached to the blue pickup that’s lived there for almost a year now. To my knowledge, no one’s in the furthest rental, unless I just can’t see their vehicle and they’ve been driving in and out the opposite way. I think the closest one is moving, but Tom said to look at it logically: out here, it’s hard to get people to deliver bulk items like appliances, so he probably had to rent the U-Haul to get whatever they bought out here. But we got the washer, dryer and furniture delivered, I reminded him, and he reminded me that we’re living high off the hog compared to most people out here. Most people don’t have the kind of job and pay he does, nor do they have houses like we do or a well. This is true, but like I said, I still think they’re moving. Rentals turnover every few months to a year or two. The question is, is this when the music-blaring freeloaders move in? It’s only a matter of time, but so soon? It’s something God would do to me. It’s just so destined. I attract noisy people like honey attracts bees. For many months I’ve had a vibe about another house or two coming back there in September. However, my September house vibe has faded. Not enough to write it off, but enough to relieve me. When I say “relieve” me, I mean enough to give me another month or two, if not more, before the house(s) come. Any extra time I can stall and delay the trouble to come from back there is extra time I can live in peace.

I took a two-hour nap without any fans on. Just the air cleaner in the next room. Couldn’t do that in Phoenix, but again, how much longer can I do that in Maricopa?

THURSDAY, AUGUST 3, 2000 I had to have Tom put my mouse back, cuz his wheel mouse was causing my computer to crash left and right. The phones were all screwy, too. We even thought there might’ve been a tap on the line, cuz of how fucked up things were, but the phone company says they’ve been having problems and it’ll be taken care of. But they always have problems. Every other week there’s a problem and it’s gotten really old. I can’t even play more than one or two games of bingo online without crashing or without things hanging up. That really fucks up my plan. I had planned to row during the two-minute commercials, but as always, whenever I plan something, especially when it concerns my own body, something or someone always has to interfere. Service is shitty no matter where you go, though, cuz people are so damn dumb. In the city, they just can’t keep up with the high demand for service, and in the rural areas, there’s not enough demand for state-of-the-art equipment.

Tom suggested it could be tapped (before the phone company informed him of the trouble) cuz of my calls to Bill. When I asked why they’d set up a tap for the three lousy calls I made to him and not the thousands of calls I made to others when I lived there, he said it was because I called out of state. It still made no sense to me, and I doubt there was ever a tap on this line, but even so, after all the shit I’ve been through with our backward laws and people, I don’t trust shit. I’m just so paranoid now that I leave written notes on the memo board, rather than spoken ones on the phone. As absurd as it may sound, they might even have this place bugged for all I know. They like to concentrate on investigating piddly bullshit more so than the things they should be investigating. I even hid a few things I don’t want to get into here for obvious reasons. Despite the fact that a search warrant seems so unlikely, you never know what the law’s gonna do, so I’m playing it safe this time. It’s not that I have a “feeling,” but the last time I really did have a feeling, I ignored it, and because of it, I ended up with those tapes being taken from me. I didn’t feel like they were taken from me, though. I felt like they were stolen from me. The whole thing reminded me of the way Dureen would clean out my room, throwing away whatever she felt should be thrown away, with no regard to my feelings or say about it. I went through similar enough shit from staff members at the places I was in, too. I’m just sick of being controlled by our so-called authority figures!!! First it was parents, then teachers, then shrinks, and now it’s blacks, Mexicans, cops and courts – aaaarrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhh!!!!!!!! When does it ever end?!

I will never trust another off-brand again. I hate blacks and I hate Mexicans, and I don’t see how anyone could go through the experiences I’ve had with them and not hate them. I’ve had problems with all but one black person I’ve ever had any kind of contact with, and problems with every single Mexican I’ve ever been unfortunate enough to cross paths with. Never again will I willingly, or by force, associate with another black or Mexican. Never! I’ll be damned if I’ll be suckered into their traps and be abused by them, only to have to end up going to jail and court for it! If you’re black or Mexican, you steer clear the hell away from me, or else!

Speaking of Mexicans, I’m getting the impression that this bullshit case has nothing to do with them. It’s all the blacks. Just the black bitch and me. A court clerk called me “Miss N” as she was handing me my papers. Well, that’s the bitch’s last name.

Tom said they have to drop it for a few reasons, and that it would’ve been thrown out back in June if I had just gotten the fucking subpoena. And by the way, the certified letter couldn’t have been a subpoena cuz we found out online that the subpoena was issued in April for a June court date, but the certified mail came in May. So, the reason I was arrested was cuz of the bench warrant that was issued and the reason I had to spend the night in jail is that the charges are felonies.

Anyway, Tom says they have to drop it cuz no one can prove I did what they said - the legal definition of stalking – following someone. Also, I’m entitled by law to be arraigned in court 10 days after being arrested, which was never the case cuz of people’s stupidity and inability to do the paperwork properly.

As far as my documenting their activities – I had a right to look out my own window, and the cops even advised us to keep records of their antics. He swears this will be over by the end of the year, but I won’t hold my breath. I still think it’s gonna be quite a battle, for quite some time, and that the burden of proof will be on me and not the blacks or the state. He said Mr. Biased wasn’t lying when he said it was dropped. He said it went to a grand jury cuz she pushed it, yet now she has nothing to do with the case anymore unless we go to trial. He was telling me how she probably had to go into court to push this thing 3 or 4 times and miss work over it.

Sorry, but that’s no consolation to me. I’m sure it was plenty worth her bother. She’d love to lose work on account of me, and even if it was a bitch for her, did she have to sleep on a cold, hard floor all night and pay hundreds of dollars cuz of the very people who antagonized her? No. Absolutely not. I’m the one paying. In fact, the blacks cost us another 7 bucks yesterday just for parking, and whatever the cost of the long-distance phone call I had to make today is going to be.

After getting up at 5:00 in the fucking morning, per orders of this fucking cunt, we headed to Denny’s, then to court. It was similar to what I went through in Springfield, only the room was smaller, there was a video monitor of those in the jail, and the friendliest sounding female judge I ever heard of. And naturally, most of the people being arraigned were young Mexicans destined for nothing but lives of destruction. One at a time we went up, were asked if our name was our true and legal name, asked if we understood the charges and had any questions, then were given papers with our next court date, after she entered a “not guilty” plea for us (that’s all that room did was not guilty). My next court date is September 7th at 9:00. I was given a number to call in order to obtain a public defender, but was told when I called that it wouldn’t yet be in the computer, so I need to call back next week.

Last night, Tom was trying to reassure me that I got what I wanted. Meaning, I wanted her to be scared and paranoid, and that’s why she pushed this thing. No, it isn’t. She’s not scared or paranoid. She pushed this thing cuz she’s a vindictive bitch who doesn’t know when to leave people the fuck alone.

Anyway, Tom said it was nice to take a day off in the middle of the week. He didn’t go to work at all yesterday. We went out and flew a bird kite I’ve had for quite some time, but the wind wasn’t very suitable for it. I took some nice pictures, nonetheless.

Today, I caught up on things like cleaning and changing the animal’s cages. I also got caught up on the sleep the blacks had been depriving me of. Shit, she’s been depriving me of more sleep here in this house than when we lived together! I slept for nearly 12 hours, that’s how exhausted she’s had me.

You know, one of the biggest reasons we moved out here was to get away from people. Yet these sick fucks are still with us! Just in different ways.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 1, 2000 I could’ve easily slept till 9:00 or later, but the blacks and Mexicans said I had to get up at 6:00. Couldn’t pull myself out of bed till 7:00, though. Tomorrow’s gonna be a bitch, having to get up at 5:30. Thursday I’m gonna sleep till I wake up naturally, even if that means sleeping till 10:00 or later, then having to back my schedule up once again for the doctor’s appointment next Tuesday.

Although there’s still more trash to remove and things to gather up, the yard looks the best it’s looked since we came here. Good. I’m sick of living like filthy, dumpy freeloaders. We keep setting the bird clock, yet it keeps quitting on us, so I give up. It’s just another one of our things that has to be broken. It keeps time just fine. It’s the birds that don’t chirp. Well, I was never much of a bird fan to begin with.

Tom gave me his wheel mouse and it’s the best mouse I ever had. Better than my old wheel mouse, cuz I can reach the buttons easier.

[louloubarnes-99]

Darcy the Librarian part 1

Darcy x Steve x Bucky nsfw (eventually! omg)

this is 7k 🥰✨

“Casey, I’ve read this sentence six times.”

Darcy pulled the earphones out and gave the younger woman her full attention. The poor thing was shrugging helplessly, her hand covering the mouthpiece of the landline receiver.

“It’s Ned, I’m sorry –”

Darcy took the phone, swapping seats with her, putting the phone to her ear as she tried to remedy the situation.

“Hello, Ned? It’s Darcy.”

The man on the other end was already yelling, sounding frustrated.

“Hello? Can I – Am I calling the foot doctor? Hello?”

“Ned! I don’t think you can hear me! It’s Darcy. Hello? Ned?”

“Darcy?”

“Yes, it’s Darcy,” she half-yelled, giving Casey a thumbs-up. “You’ve got an appointment with us tomorrow at 11. We’ll see you then!”

“Eleven?” Ned repeated. “Okay. I’ll see ya.”

Darcy hung up and she let out a low sigh, swapping seats with Casey again. She glanced at the clock, then at the screen in front of her. It was mid-morning at the podiatry clinic, both of the receptionists on duty running steadily through the routine. Darcy had been writing another letter to be sent out for auditing purposes, and if it was her working alone she’d be doing them in her sleep. She’d had plenty of dreams of her writing reports and doing work that was piling up and up. Today she was training Casey, reviewing what she’d already written, listening to the Dictaphone, her boss’ voice in her ear.

“Please confirm Ned’s appointment, Casey. The right-click, yeah…”

Casey sat back, giving a little smile when she was done. She was beginning to remember everything, and Darcy could remember that distinct relief. That Thank God something’s finally going right kind of feeling. She didn’t want to burst her bubble, but she found several errors in the letter Casey had typed out.

“No, it’s hyperkeratosis,” she said, picking up her pencil and crossing out the spelling mistake. She tried not to see Casey’s face fall. “And onychauxic.”

She handed it back to Casey, standing up.

“All good. Just fix those and we’ll send it off. I’m going on my break.”

She patted Casey’s shoulder and stepped away, walking down the corridor to the break room, seeing Patrick sitting at the table with his sandwich in his hands.

“Hey,” he mumbled, mouth full. “She doing okay?”

Darcy made a so-so movement with her hand. She hoped he’d keep that to himself, since Casey was his wife’s little cousin. Patrick was the podiatrist, and probably the best boss Darcy had ever had. He was at least one of the friendliest ones she’d had, pulling out the chair beside him for her to sit down with her yoghurt she retrieved from the fridge.

“She’s fine,” she amended, pulling up the chair as she sat down, the legs scraping across the linoleum. “You can tell Linda she’s doing a great job.”

Patrick gave a little chuckle, shaking his head. “I swear, I won’t bring another one like her in again, I like you too much.”

“Well, maybe not so much when I abandon you at 5.30.”

She was referring to what she’d already reminded him of twice that day. She needed to leave a little early tonight because Ian asked her to that morning when she jumped out of bed. Her boyfriend didn’t ask her to do that often, to come home early, unless it was a special occasion. She had already read into it enough to start thinking about engagement announcements. She didn’t want to call her mother but she knew she’d be the first one of her family to know. She hoped Ian didn’t cry too much, because Darcy knew she would when he got down on one knee. She always liked hearing how other people got together, even when people said “oh we met online”. She wanted to ask what exactly drew people to one another.

She took a spoonful of her yogurt and shoved it into her mouth, smirking at Patrick.

“How’d you and Linda meet?”

“Group of friends, mutual friends at a bar,” he murmured, looking away. He blinked. “Christ. I think about that time, all the uncertainty, and now…”

He’d been married several years. Darcy didn’t necessarily like Linda very much, since she was perpetually condescending and always acted like work was what kept Patrick from her, and therefore Darcy was in part to blame, but she thought Patrick seemed happy with her.

Also he’d paid for her boob job last year, not that they ever spoke about it, but Darcy more than noticed those things when she was at his fortieth birthday party last year.

“I feel like we’ve been married longer than we’ve known each other,” he murmured. “I know that doesn’t make sense.”

“I get it,” Darcy said, ducking her head, smiling. “Me and Ian met seven years ago, and I can’t remember life without him. I don’t remember how I used to feel. It’s so weird.”

Patrick nodded, finishing his next mouthful.

“I was a kid when I met him,” she added, rolling her eyes. “How’d you propose?”

“Didn’t really, sort of decided it together,” Patrick murmured. “I didn’t get down on one knee, it was after – uh…”

Darcy watched his face change, his cheeks flushing, and she began to chuckle.

“Yeah, we were both in a really good mood, you could say.”

“Right,” Darcy said, laughing. “Good to know.”

They lapsed into silence and Patrick nodded, chewing. He finished the rest of his food and balled up the plastic wrapping to throw away, checking his watch.

“I better get back.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I’ll be right out.”

He paused at the sink after he washed his hands, drying them on the towel that hung over the oven handle.

“Hey, congratulations, when it does happen,” he said, and Darcy looked up.

He was smiling at her and she returned it, feeling a familiar warmth in her stomach.

“Thanks, Pat,” she murmured.

He left her there and she watched him leave. Unable to truly be professional, her eyes fell to his rear as he went out the door. He wore forty well. She knew his schedule, she knew what he ate for the most part, and she knew that he worked out. If she met him on the street, she’d think he was some kind of sports psychologist or physical therapist if he told her he was a doctor. His clientele was mostly elderly people, the majority of them diabetic, and feet was the last thing that came to mind where Patrick was concerned.

Darcy’s best friend Jane had the pleasure of meeting him once last year, grinning at him like she couldn’t stop herself, and ever since then he was Hot Doctor, or Hot Boss when she and Darcy spoke on the phone.

He was very handsome, and very kind to Darcy, considering how much shit she put him through for the first six months she was there. The office manager had quit, the archives were a mess, and Darcy wasn’t going to put up with it. She drew a line in the sand and fixed so much, and made sure it wouldn’t be so disorganized ever again. It had happened soon after she finished her library studies diploma, and she’d been hoping to use her new qualification somewhere else, but she still got to flex her diligent cataloging skills from time to time.

She returned to the front desk five minutes later, after sending Jane a text:

I think Ian is proposing tonight

-

She couldn’t keep the thrill from coursing through her, grabbing her bag from under the desk with her phone. She smiled at Casey.

The waiting room had an elderly couple waiting, the Needlers, who both rose their hands to wave goodbye to her as she slipped out down the corridor.

She stuck her head in Patrick’s office, seeing him throw out a plastic sheet, preparing for the next client. She knocked on the doorframe and he spun around.

“You’re gone?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I have my phone in case, y’know… something blows up. Or if Casey blows something up.”

“Have a good night,” he said, and she smiled. “I’ll have a beer in your honor.”

She laughed, turning away and walked out, her stomach flipping. On the drive over, she tried to keep herself calm, but she kept bopping along to the songs on the radio. She kept watching the people in the street. She saw a couple with their toddler in a stroller with a dog on a leash.

She could picture it. A few years ago she’d have rolled her eyes at such a suggestion – her, as a married woman with a kid? But now she’d settled into the podiatrist clinic, she could feel things were stable enough. It wasn’t so crazy. People fell in love all the time, and stayed together...

She pulled up at the apartment block, switching off the car, taking a few deep breaths. She got out and walked up, seeing kids playing in the street.

She paused in the hallway, taking out her deodorant to spritz as subtly as she could. It was August, and her A/C was still broken – she was saving up – and she didn’t want any memory of the proposal to be tainted by her body odor. She stuck the can back in her bag and unlocked the front door, stepping inside and looking around.

“Hi!”

She was tempted to yell out “honey, I’m home” but she was so excited she blurted out the first thing that came to mind, and Ian appeared a few seconds later, his hands in his pockets as she moved down the hallway.

She moved to kiss him on the cheek and he took out a hand, touching her arm.

“I got here as quick as possible. Patrick wasn’t too swamped, thank fuck…”

She gave a little laugh, taking his hand in hers, their fingers twining together. He walked with her in silence, until they reached the living room, and he promptly let her go, gesturing to the person sitting on the couch.

“Darcy, you remember Amy.”

Amy was a petite blonde woman, her hair so light it was almost white. She wore a pastel pink dress, looking like she’d come straight from a garden party. Darcy tried to place her and finally did – she was a friend of theirs through Ian’s sister. She flashed a wide smile, and Darcy watched as Ian moved to sit beside Amy.

“Hi,” Darcy said, shaking her head a little to right herself, trying not to feel the disappointment begin to settle in. She’d completely mistaken this occasion. It was unusual that he didn’t tell her it was Amy coming over. She felt like she’d be better prepared.

She froze as Ian’s hand slipped down to rest on Amy’s thigh, squeezing it.

“Could you sit down, Darce?”

“What’s going on?” she said, staring at his hand. She looked at Amy, seeing her smile falter.

Ian turned his head to look at Amy.

“Darling, could you get her a glass of water?”

Amy nodded, standing up. Darcy gaped after her. She knew where the glasses were in her apartment.

“I was hoping we’d talk about it like adults,” Ian said, his voice soft.

She snapped her eyes to meet his.

“I appreciate you getting here quickly tonight.”

Amy returned with a glass of water, handing it to Darcy. She held it, staring at Ian and Amy on the couch.

“Sit down.”

“I don’t want to take this sitting down,” Darcy blurted. “Whatever this is.”

“I’m moving out,” Ian said, his tone changing. He was edging toward defensive. “I thought it was better that way. I’m moving into Amy’s place.”

She woke up this morning with a completely different person. At least, it felt that way. Darcy could feel she’d gone into shock, unable to feel much at all as he went on in his English lilt.

“I’ll come by when you’re at work, to take my things. We started packing this afternoon.”

Darcy studied Amy’s hand resting in her lap, her nails squared off and clean.

“How long has this been happening?”

Ian stopped mid-sentence, something about an internet bill that Darcy had tuned out. He blinked, clearing his throat.

“Uh, I suppose about eighteen months.”

She let out a breath, looking down at the glass in her hand.

“Okay.”

“I know it’s hard to hear –”

“You don’t know how it feels to hear this,” Darcy said, looking up again, staring him down. “You have no idea.”

She hadn’t been cheated on before. She’d seen her mother go through it.

“Those trips, the ones to California?” she asked, looking at Amy.

The blonde nodded. “Yes.”

“Well,” Darcy murmured, finally putting the glass to her lips to drink, unblinking. “That makes sense.”

He had a West Coast franchise she knew nothing about. She let out a harsh little chuckle, only because it was the only other thing she could do instead of crying. She felt her eyes prickle.

“We’ll go,” Ian said, glancing at Amy.

In that moment, Darcy truly hated them both. She wasn’t sure who she’d attack first if there were no repercussions. Ian would be harder to overpower, since he had the reach of a basketball player. Attacking Amy would be satisfying if she managed to make her scream. She looked elf-like in her features, except for the ample cleavage she had partially hidden beneath her dress.

He was her type, then. Little and curved in all the right places. Except she seemed to be daintier than Darcy ever could be, moving off the couch gracefully, moving into the corridor.

Ian lingered, and Darcy clutched the glass a little tighter, glaring at him.

“Darcy, I know it’s not right –”

“It’s not,” Darcy bit out.

“- but I wanted to be honest.”

Why couldn’t he have broken up with her months ago, years ago? She thought of the last time they had sex and it had another dimension to it – he’d teared up at the time, and she thought he was in one of his rare overwhelmed moments. At the time, she’d comforted him, thinking he’d be embarrassed by being overcome with love.

He’d been crying because he felt guilty.

“So when you came inside me the other night –”

Ian’s eyes widened slightly and she hoped Amy heard every word.

“- you didn’t think that was the ideal time to be honest?”

“Darcy –”

“Whatever, you’re in love. You don’t want anyone to think you’re an asshole,” she muttered, scowling at him. “But are an asshole, Ian. You’re an asshole.”

He drew back, his jaw set. He let out a sigh.

“Fine, I’m gone.”

“Go,” she snapped, and she turned away, doing her best to suppress the sob that bubbled up.

When she heard the front door shut and she knew she was alone, she let out a gasp, the echoing quiet of the apartment haunting her. She put down the water and sunk to the floor, putting her face in her hands.

-

She spent the night looking back on seven years, wondering when he decided to betray her. She tried to think of a moment that was the catalyst. Was it when they moved in together? Eighteen months ago she was at the podiatrist clinic. Ian was working for the investment firm.

She remembered they told each other they were soulmates. She’d never been closer to someone in her entire life.

He’d hardly spoken to Amy the night they met her. It was his sister’s engagement party and she was a random stranger in the background, someone Darcy had never thought she should note. Ian was her person, and she was his.

Amy?

Amy?

She hardly slept, crying and fuming, rolling around, so alone. She wanted a time machine. She wanted ignorance. She wanted to find the moment when he switched. She still wanted him, despite how confused and furious she felt.

How had she not seen this coming? Had he hinted at it, ever? Had he laid clues somewhere for her to find? She’d never suspected it. He was always such a dork, he had no ability to flirt with anyone but her in his clumsy, awkward way.

She dragged herself down to the clinic and opened up for the morning, feeling puffy-eyed and exhausted. She heard Patrick come in and walk up behind her like he did every day, and she thought of what to say, every option sounding so humiliating and stupid.

“Hi,” she murmured, unable to force the smile. “Your files are there for the morning.”

Her voice was rough and she cleared her throat. She kept her eyes on the screen, pulling up the emails. She began scrolling and heard Patrick pick up the stack of files.

“Bit of a rush today?”

“Yeah,” she replied, nodding. She was thankful that he wasn’t asking her anything personal. He sounded subdued.

She turned around, seeing him search her face and she smiled, a little one that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Ned Campbell will probably run late. His daughter’s meant to pick him up and she’s in Buffalo.”

“I’ll try to work around it,” Patrick replied, and he gave a little smile of his own. “Get yourself a coffee, okay?”

“Yeah, I’m on it,” she said, standing up fast, walking out before he could say anything else.

She covered her mouth as she waited for the coffee to pour through the machine. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue when she returned to her desk, hearing the first clients come in.

“Shelly, hi,” she called to the little old lady. “You didn’t bring Buffy!”

Buffy was her dog. Shelly waved at Darcy, shaking her head.

“Too hot in the car. And on the pavement, too…”

“Right, that’s a good call,” Darcy said.

She was able to lapse into the role soon enough, except every half an hour or so she’d come back to the realization that last night was not a dream and she’d blink up at the ceiling. It was harder when Casey came in, fifteen minutes late, her smile dropping when she saw no ring on Darcy’s finger.

“Bummer,” she said. “I brought you prosecco.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Darcy said, waving her off. “We… we broke up, actually.”

Casey’s eyes bulged and she scooted closer to Darcy, her mouth falling open.

“No! Why? What happened?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Darcy said, and she went back to the paperwork in the pile next to her, scanning the text. “We need to work on this letter together.”

She took her lunch break later than usual, but she wasn’t able to avoid Patrick, since Casey passed on the bad news. His eyes were trained on her as she slipped into the chair next to him.

“Are you alright, Darcy?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“I don’t need to go home,” she murmured.

She opened her yogurt and scooped some out, taking a mouthful. It tasted too sweet. In truth, she wanted a stiff drink, but this would have to do for now. She realized she hadn’t answered his question.

“I’ll be okay,” she added.

“Are you sure?” Patrick asked, and he looked toward the doorway. “We could manage, if you want to go…”

“I’ll stay,” she said, patting his hand on the table. “I might even stay back, there’s shit to do.”

Her cursing always made him smile at her and he didn’t disappoint. They ate in silence, until Darcy heard Casey calling for her, sounding out of sorts.

The rest of the afternoon flew by, and Darcy sent Casey home, telling her she’d do the end of day banking and paperwork. Casey gave her a little sympathetic hug that made Darcy want to shove her away, but instead she patted her shoulder twice before they drew apart.

“You know, if you need someone to talk to, I’m always here,” Casey whispered. “I’m the one all my girlfriends talk to.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks,” Darcy murmured, trying her best to grin and bear it.

Casey held up the little bottle of prosecco, enough for two drinks, handing it to Darcy.

“Thanks,” Darcy said again.

When she was finally alone she let her head fall onto the desk, hitting it there a couple times, sighing when she sat up again. She grabbed the prosecco, twisting it open and put it to her lips, taking a long gulp. She added up the cash in the till, taking sips from the little bottle, moving steadily through the work.

“Hey, Darce?”

Patrick was calling to her from down the corridor and she stopped midway through shutting down her computer.

“Yeah?”

He didn’t answer and she frowned, ducking down to grab her belongings, snatching her prosecco before trudging down the corridor, stepping into his office.

Patrick was sitting back in his chair, a beer open, his sleeves pushed down to his elbows. His eyes fell to Darcy’s bottle and he smirked.

“Glad to see I’m not the only one who can drink on the job,” he murmured.

“Yeah.”

She walked in, throwing her bag on the floor as she sat in the special chair, putting her bottle to her lips again. Technically, neither of them were working.

“How long will you stay back?” she asked, Patrick’s back to her once more as he opened his emails up again, scrolling down.

He gave a little shrug. “I dunno. Don’t really want to go.”

He clicked off, turning again, and Darcy watched him move closer, looking at her sneakers. She’d replaced her kitten heels with them, since no-one was meant to be impressed by her after 5PM, at least no clients.

She nodded, thinking of having to drag herself back to the empty apartment, to see the photos on the shelves and the two sets of everything all over the place. Ian had left his toothbrush in his hurry yesterday, and that morning she’d contemplated scrubbing the toilet bowl with it and not telling him.

“I don’t wanna go home,” she whispered.

Patrick got up and Darcy stared at him, sitting back in the chair as he moved toward her, his hand coming up…

“Darcy –”

“What’re you doing?” she cut in, and she felt his hand touching her face, tracing her cheekbone.

He’d never come this close to her before. She’d given him a hug before, like at his birthday party, but this felt like something beyond a platonic touch. He was watching her, licking his lips nervously.

“We could maybe – I thought, I-I…”

“Patrick,” she whispered, and he lowered his face to meet hers, pulling her into an embrace.

She felt his lips brush against her neck and she went still.

“Patrick. Pat. Honey –”

“God, I want you,” he breathed, and he drew back, searching her face. “I think you and Ian breaking up was a sign, for me to finally do something…”

“What are you talking about? Since when?” Darcy said, her eyes widening.

“Since always,” he said, and he kissed her, a peck on the lips.

Darcy’s face felt hot and she felt like she couldn’t breathe, her heart racing as he kissed her again, deeper, his tongue pressing into her mouth as he moaned.

“I love you,” he breathed, pulling back, and Darcy shook her head.

“You don’t love me,” she whispered.

“Yes, I do,” he said, and he kissed her neck, moving down.

Darcy kept still as his hand went under her skirt, reaching between her thighs, and she was pulled back the second his fingers brushed the seam of her, over the crotch of her underwear.

“I have to go,” she yelped, and she pushed him against his chest, stumbling off the chair and grabbing her bag from the floor.

“Darcy, can we talk about this?” he said, and she shook her head. He was sitting on the floor, reality catching up with him, too. “Oh, fuck…”

He passed a hand over his face and Darcy closed her eyes to steady herself.

“I won’t come in tomorrow,” she said, and he nodded.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said, and she nodded, just trying to get out the door, inching toward it. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Please don’t,” Darcy breathed, and she ducked out, feeling the blood rushing in her ears as she fled, the door slamming behind her.

She got to her car and slammed the door shut, breathing heavily as she tried to understand what the fuck had just happened. And she felt, beneath it all, that she was turned on.

“Oh, God,” she gasped, putting her face in her hands, letting her face rest on the steering wheel.

She tried to think of what to do, her mind going to that office, picturing racing back in and confronting Patrick by climbing on top of him and kissing him. The last 24 hours had been hell, and she might be lonely enough to do that – but she knew, not even deep down, that she’d hate herself for it. He was married, for fuck’s sake.

“Oh, God,” she said again with a groan.

She shoved the keys in the ignition and took off down the street, flipping through the channels on her radio until she found a song she knew.

She began to sob as she sat at the traffic lights, Angel Of The Morning unable to drown her out. A woman stared as she crossed the road, since Darcy made such a racket. She cranked up the speakers louder, her car shuddering with the bass.

She bought a frozen pizza and a giant family-sized Caesar salad, before stopping by the liquor store, where she grabbed two cold 40s and retreated to her apartment. She drank and ate while she watched Love Actually and cat videos, growing more miserable the drunker she got.

-

She fumbled for her phone the following morning, her head throbbing with the hangover headache she sustained, and she saw Jane was FaceTiming her as she squinted down blearily at her phone.

“Hey – what the fuck, what happened to you?”

“I guess the radio silence could, um, be a red flag,” Darcy mumbled, rubbing her eyes. She didn’t remember taking her makeup off, so there was a high chance that she was resembling a raccoon.

Jane looked good, the sun in her hair, her brow furrowed with concern.

“Uh, Ian left me. And my boss tried to hook up with me,” Darcy said, and Jane’s eyes bulged.

“Oh, Darcy. Darcy –”

“I don’t want the –” Darcy waved around, the movement a terrible idea in her condition. “- fuss. I’m fine. I drank too much last night, but I’ve got the day off.”

Thinking about having to make herself go back tomorrow had her filled with dread so sudden and shame-filled that she shut her eyes, groaning.

“You should get another job.”

“Yeah, probably,” she muttered. “But where? I don’t have any references.”

“Put me down.”

“I can’t keep doing that. I helped you out one summer. I need Patrick…”

Jane’s lips were pressed together in a thin, grim line. Darcy hated that she tended to only hear about her problems, never good news. She hoped she’d be telling her she was going to be her Maid of Honor. That hopeful, pleasant little world felt so far away. Darcy sighed.

“I’ll ask around. Some places are trying to hire new librarians for the new school year. They’re going back soon.”

“Right,” Darcy said, but she didn’t think much would come from it.

She was a qualified technician with limited experience. She didn’t know the right people, and she knew it was all about networking. She learned that far too late, which was how she ended up at Patrick’s office instead of in a library.

“Seriously, I’ll check for you. Ian left…?”

“He did, he went to stay with his girlfriend.”

“What?” Jane snapped, appalled. “Since when would he -? That fucking weasel –”

“It’s Amy, his sister’s friend. Go on Instagram, she’s got tits out to –”

Darcy gestured holding two heavy things in her hands, shrugging.

“Well, they’re out like mine…”

“You can’t stay there,” Jane said. “It’s full of Ian.”

Darcy picked up the remnants of her Old English 800 that sat by her bed and took a swig, making a face. She tried to remember last night and only could get snapshots of things.

“Darcy?”

“Yeah. Just – moving? A new job? I don’t wanna do that again…”

Jane went quiet and Darcy felt a wave of dread like yesterday, her eyes misting. She’d known Jane longer than she’d known Ian. She wondered if she’d be able to tell her what she was like before he came around.

“Darcy, it’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah, well,” Darcy whispered, her voice thin. “It’s gonna have to be.”

-

She nursed the hangover, cleaned up the mess of the leftover pizza, the empty salad carton, and the empty bottles. She did laundry, threw things into boxes, and tore up pictures.

By the late afternoon, she sent an email through to Casey, informing her that she was taking tomorrow off as well. She tried to not think about the clinic falling to pieces without her there.

She changed by the hour. She’d be destructive and throwing Ian’s belongings around, ripping up mementos while playing loud music through the TV, and then she’d be wracked with sobs and wishing he was there to hold her.

She looked at the classifieds and tried to find somewhere to go – she wasn’t sure how desperate the situation was when she didn’t have a job to go back to, not if she wasn’t going to show up again on Monday. It felt less likely with each hour that passed on that Friday.

She called up landlords the Saturday, feeling wretched, since the last time she didn’t have to do this alone. She’d had Ian, and the process was shared. She wished she had someone to bear that weight with her, but she knew she had no choice. She had a fleeting moment of clarity – she should move out and sleep in her car! Then she reeled at the thought of being that alone and vulnerable in the world.

She found a listing an hour away from her and took the plunge, calling the number. In the rush, she asked to see the place as soon as possible. The owner sounded friendly enough, maybe a little surprised that she was insisting on seeing the advertised piece of shit.

“How much is the bond?” Darcy asked, within a few minutes of being there.

The owner was a middle-aged woman named Maureen, who for whatever reason didn’t seem bothered by the stifling heat that was affecting Darcy. She was sweating through her shirt, dripping down her bare legs.

“It’ll be about eleven-hundred,” replied Maureen. She frowned. “Do you mind me asking what the rush is, hon?”

“I’m not fleeing, like, a bounty hunter or something,” Darcy said, and Maureen didn’t laugh. “I, uh, ended a relationship.”

She got a few texts that morning from Ian, asking when he could come over to get more of his things. She’d told him she’d be out for a few hours, when in truth she’d packed up most of her things when she could sleep last night and had shoved them all into her car, ready to escape the apartment as soon as possible. She’d even taken the key off of her chain and left it on the table.

“Can I move in today?”

“Sure,” Maureen said. “You got cash?”

“I can go get some.”

Darcy departed, came back ten minutes later and Maureen handed her the keys, giving her a shrewd look when she was done counting the notes Darcy laid in her unturned palm. She signed the tenancy agreement, handing it back to Maureen, waiting for the signal that everything was okay.

She rose her fingers to give Maureen a cautious peace sign, a little smile forming.

“Yeah? We good? Awesome.”

She only cried later that night, nursing her beer as she heard the echoes off life outside the walls.

-

She got a phone call on the Monday, when she’d been expecting Patrick chasing after her, only to find an unknown number on the display.

“Hello?” she said when she picked up, shifting to sit up on her elbows.

She’d slept on the floor in her sleeping bag. She hadn’t bought a mattress yet. She was close to asking for money from her mother, who had only been told the bare minimum about the breakup with Ian.

“Hi, am I speaking to Darcy Lewis?”

She didn’t recognize the voice. It wasn’t Patrick’s wife as far as she could discern, and she cleared her throat.

“Uh, yeah. This is she.”

“Great, I was wondering if you could come in for a meeting. My name is Maria Hill, I work at Sacred Heart –”

“I’m sorry?”

“Doctor Foster passed on your resume, and we’re hoping to find someone to help us with the library at our school. Is this a bad time?”

Darcy began to crawl out of the sleeping bag as fast as possible, looking around, before taking the phone away from her ear to see the time. It was after 10AM and she wondered if it was that obvious she’d been sleeping.

“This is a great time, Maria, thank you for calling me,” Darcy said, frantically snatching her bra from the floor, looking around for her pants. “I would love to meet.”

“Is today too soon, or -?”

“I can-I can do today,” Darcy said. “Whereabouts?”

Maria gave her the address and Darcy made a vague affirming sound, pretending she knew exactly where it was. She walked over to her laptop on the kitchen bench and flipped it open, Googling the name of the school as Maria confirmed a time.

“See you then.”

“Yes, I’m looking forward to it,” Darcy replied, promptly hanging up and scrolling through the search results.

A “rich tradition, with Christian values”, the website read. The children on the homepage wore navy and yellow uniforms.

“What the fuck,” Darcy muttered, making a face.

-

She pulled up at the school’s front parking lot, stepping out in her pencil skirt, hoping she hadn’t sweated through the sharp blazer she wore on top of her silk blouse.

She shoved her feet into her kitten heels and grabbed her handbag, looking around.

It was a quiet street, which was understandable for the time of year. No-one would be around, except maybe maintenance staff, and Darcy’s car was the only one parked there. She felt her phone buzz and she checked it, seeing Ian texting her back:

What the fuck????

He must have found her key, and the note that told him the lease was his problem to solve. She turned off her phone, shoving it back into her bag as she took a deep breath, walking up the front steps.

She knocked, trying to peer into the stained-glass window in the door. It was trying to see through a piece of boiled candy and she stood back, glancing over her shoulder. There was loud, distant banging sound that made her jump and Darcy went rigid, eyes wide.

The door burst open and she startled again, the sweat on her brow dripping down.

A woman with a short brown ponytail met her eye, offering her hand.

“Darcy?”

“Yeah,” she replied, taking her hand to shake. “Maria?”

“Yes,” she said. “You find everything okay?”

“Yeah, am I – can I park here?”

“You probably could get a spot in the teachers’ one around the back, but we use both during the summer anyway. Follow me.”

Darcy nodded, watching as Maria turned her back and walked inside. The front hallway was dimly lit, and Darcy was hit with the scent of paint and dust. She saw a large painting of Mary holding baby Jesus and tried not to react to it, her eyes swivelling over the walls as they walked down the hall into a larger corridor.

“Classrooms,” Maria said, gesturing. “Kindergarten down here and then first grade. I’ll take you in somewhere here…”

“I kinda heard a loud, uh, ruckus earlier?” Darcy said, and Maria glanced at her, her brow lifting, and she smirked.

“A ruckus?” she repeated.

“Was that not an appropriate word –?”

There was a second bang, much louder, unadulterated by the school’s walls. Darcy flinched, while Maria only glanced toward the sound, vaguely interested.

“That’s Mr. Barnes, he’s moving things around,” she murmured. She smirked again. “He’s the ruckus.”

She pushed open a door marked 1R and Darcy followed her. She was met with a couple dozen tiny desks, all of them lowered, with tiny chairs, sitting in a horseshoe shape. There were posters for the alphabet and numbers on the walls, along with a painting of Jesus above the clock, his eyes fixed on Darcy as she moved to copy Maria, who was grabbing a regular-sized chair from the front of the classroom.

“I was sent your resume at a pretty good time, all things considered,” she said, and Darcy nodded, looking away from spooky Jesus, only to see a photograph of the Pope waving at her on the whiteboard.

Maria didn’t seem to notice how distracted Darcy was.

“Our situation has changed a lot in the last semester, even in the last couple of months,” she said, placing her hands in her lap. “Our library is in dire need of organization, re-organization. We’d want our students to have a better library environment in this new school year.”

Darcy bit her lip.

“I’m – I’m a technician, I’m not a librarian,” she said. “I can’t teach.”

She wasn’t selling herself at all. She figured the unconventional style of this interview had thrown her off-balance. There was another distant bang but she didn’t jump that time, instead staring at Maria, waiting for her reply.

“We had needed to juggle our staff after our librarian left quite suddenly in May,” Maria said. “Other teachers are stepping up, but our collection is in dire need of help. From what I heard from your references –”

“Y-You spoke to Doctor -?”

“Yes, I spoke to Doctor Foster and Doctor Chandler,” Maria said, flipping open the file she had, showing what Darcy recognised as a copy of her resume. “They both said you were a remarkable young woman.”

Darcy’s brows lifted, especially since Doctor Chandler was Patrick.

“Really? What did the podiatrist say, specifically?”

“Basically that I’d be a moron if I didn’t hire you immediately,” Maria said, another smirk forming. She shut the file, glancing out the window. Her eyes swung back to meet Darcy’s. “I’m not the principal. I’m the deputy. To make a long story short, Miss Lewis, we’re in a pretty messy situation as a school. The kids are back in less than three weeks and the library looks like a pipe bomb went off in it.”

Darcy blinked. “Right.”

“I would be taking you on as a technician, not a teacher.”

“I don’t know if I’m… I didn’t apply for a job here, I don’t remember anything being advertised –”

“Your name popped up in my network,” Maria said, and she stood up suddenly.

There was another bang.

Darcy mirrored her, smoothing her skirt down, hoping she hadn’t left a sweat patch on the chair. Maria didn’t seem interested, instead moved to walk out, pausing when she took hold of the doorknob.

“I’m not going to sugar-coat it. It’s a big job, and you wouldn’t have a lot of time if you were aiming to finish it enough for kids to use the library on the first day back.”

Darcy nodded. “Right.”

“I have other people to see as well. We didn’t advertise for this role but word of mouth tends to work better than any recruiting website.”

Darcy nodded again. She didn’t think she’d get this job. A better qualified person, maybe a teacher librarian looking for a change, would get it. She departed from the classroom, slipping into the corridor. Maria took her hand and shook it.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll be heading toward that ruckus you heard earlier,” Maria said, and Darcy nodded, feeling her face flush.

“Good to meet you,” Darcy said.

She stopped walking and watched Maria walk down another hallway and out of sight, another bang ringing out in the distance, and then a couple yells. It sounded like Maria was investigating, muffled yells going back and forth, and Darcy gave a little sigh, adjusting her bag on her shoulder before she moved back the way they came through.

She stopped at the Mary painting, leaning forward to see the tiny brushstrokes on the blue gown she was swathed in, along with the tiniest text beneath.

Sister Siobhan O’Keefe, 1908

“Holy shit,” she whispered, stepping back. “Go Siobhan…”

She walked outside, the sun in her eyes, and she got in her car, putting her keys in the ignition. She turned them, but the car remained silent.

At that moment, another car pulled up, parking several spaces away from her, and she felt her cheeks flush again with embarrassment. Her car had been idling the other day when she was in traffic but she hadn’t taken any notice, of fucking course, because she was on her way home the day Ian told her about Amy.

Her battery was dead. She waited for the person in their car to get out, hearing their door shut. She tried again in vain, closing her eyes.

“Please…”

She couldn’t afford a tow truck. She gnawed at her lip, feeling the bullets of sweat glide down her back as she tried to shove down the growing anxiety. She had money for a bus ticket, at least…

She glanced over at the car and saw a man standing there wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, watching her.

“Fuck me,” she said under her breath, because he was cute as hell.

Blonde with blue eyes, muscular and tall like a football player. He frowned, signalling her to lower her window. Darcy shook her head hastily, opening her door.

“My battery’s dead,” she called, feeling like her face was on fire.

“I thought so,” he said, and she nodded, flashing an awkward smile.

He went to his trunk and held up a jumper cable and Darcy blinked.

“You want help? Unless you wanna call someone –”

“No, please, I mean, thank you –”

She motioned for him to come closer. He walked over, leaning down, and Darcy wiped some sweat from her face.

“I just – I was in there before, I don’t want – I mean, I already fucked up the job interview, I don’t want this to end in mortification.”

The man’s eyebrows lifted. “Really? Interview?”

“Yeah, you work here?”

“Yeah,” he said, and he gestured to her hand resting on the keys in the ignition. “One more time, see what happens.”

She tried again, but nothing happened. She let out a sigh.

“Yeah, I’ll need that jumper cable.”

“Just a sec,” he said, moving back.

Darcy watched as he moved the car closer until it was facing hers, and he slipped out again to pop the hood, which was when Darcy decided she needed to move out of the front seat and try to pretend she knew what was happening.

She’d only been in this situation once before with Ian and he took over. She’d taken that for granted, not knowing something as basic as this. She knew how to change a tyre, too, but she didn’t think it was something she should do, necessarily.

He seemed to be doing fine without her pretending to supervise him, and Darcy watched him attach the cables, moving back and forth between the two cars.

Her car sprang to life after he told her to give it another try, and she let out a laugh, so relieved.

“God, thank you so much,” she said, and he smiled at her.

“Anyone else woulda done it,” he said, and Darcy kept smiling.

She was fucking lucky he showed up when he did. He went to his trunk to get out a carton of books and rose a hand in a short wave.

“Thank you!”  she called from her window, pulling her seatbelt on.

He walked up to the front door and disappeared inside as Darcy drove off.

[canumoveurseatup-no]

dark room

summary: grow through what you go through.

(please read warnings and author’s note before continuing to read)

wc: 10.5k

pairings: dad!sam x black!reader

warnings: this gets real okay... it contains drug use, alcohol abuse, mental illness, parental abuse, mentions of suicide- it’s dark, it’s raw, it’s real so please read with caution. reader has fluid sexuality, light smut

a/n: my 20th birthday passed months ago (this was supposed to be out on my birthday, back in august) and i know that doesn’t seem like a big deal to other people but it’s a big deal to me, especially coming from someone who has tried to end their lives multiple times, someone who had battled mental illness for years, someone who used substances to numb any sort of pain. It’s been a long time coming. And I’m still fighting every single day but I am here so this is mainly for me but also for anyone who is struggling with anything in their lives. Keep. Pushing.

———————

You wanted to feel like you were dancing on the ceiling. You wanted to do your own little lonely dance like no one was watching. The room was hot, the smell stale, hair sticking to your forehead, nothing was real. You were a mere atom prancing across a screen of color. You didn’t notice the phones out recording you while you experienced one of the best trips of your life. They weren’t making fun of you, they were cheering you on but their cheers fell on deaf ears as it felt like you had cotton stuffed in your own.

You fell in a chair, seeing various pills splayed out on the table. So many to choose from, they were so pretty but then the sight of little white lines caught your attention, you weighed your options. You had enough nose candy before you even got here. You pre-gamed so hard you came to the party two hours late from falling out.

You wanted to touch the ends of the universe so you snatched another tab off the table and pressed it on your tongue like a fruit roll up with tongue tattoos on it. The dancing bodies in front of you distorted as you grabbed a heavy liquor bottle and stumbled from standing up too fast... or maybe it was the drugs? You felt your face smile and your body go numb as you fell back on a bunch of clouds.

You found a guy eyeing you from the other side of the room or at least it seemed like it, his face was an absolute blur. But soon he was right in front of you and you could see specs of yellow in his brown irises. They were almost like sunflowers.

“Wanna have a good time?,” he opens the palm of his hands and you see a pretty blue pill.

“What’s it do?,” you don’t notice the slurring, you don’t notice the left side of your body going numb... you stopped breathing for a minute and as fearsome as it sounds... you welcomed it. It’s all you’ve been craving since you were nine years old... to just. stop. breathing. But your chest opened up again, hugging the air tight in its lungs to keep your body alive.

“However you’re feeling now? Multiply that times ten... it makes you feel like your third eye is opening. You can taste colors, see tastes... it’s unreal,”

“How much for it?,” the words flew past your lips faster than your mind could understand.

“It’s on me,”

—————

You don’t remember how you made it home, maybe you walked again- maybe you made the right choice and called an Uber.

You only remember mumbling a “bye, daddy” to the guy who gave you the blue pill, sending you off with more for the future. You felt like God was holding you in his hands and blessing you with the best life right now.

You weren’t aware of your little brother’s door being cracked open and him waiting up for you as you tried to quietly get to the bathroom.

“Oops,” you laughed to yourself. It was a sight your little brother saw often- you didn’t know that, your dad didn’t know that. Keith never knew how to tell anyone he was worried for his sister. He was 12- he didn’t know what was wrong with you. But he didn’t hesitate to scream when he found you in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet with throw up all over yourself.

“Y/N!!,” he tried to shake you awake but your eyes were dull and half lidded, “Y/N stop! Wake up, wake up, wake up!!,” he even slapped you. Nothing worked.

“Dad!! Daaaaddd!,” Keith ran down the hallway to your dad’s room. Sam woke in a frenzy and looked at Keith with worry

“Something’s wrong with Y/N! She won’t wake up!,” the 12 year old sobbed and Sam booked it out of his room to find your body limp on the toilet. Underwear mid thigh, as if you passed out while trying to pull them down to pee. Throw up all in your lap, body dripping with cold sweat.

“Keith, Call 911!”

—————

He always watched you now... he always had appointments set up at the doctors to test your urine but it didn’t stop you from using. There were always ways around passing drug tests. Often times you’d ask a friend to pee in a cup then pour it in a ziploc baggie and hide it in your sports bra to keep it warmed up. You knew how to beat the system.

Pour a little in the toilet so it makes it look like you peed, they always check afterwards. Then pour it in the cup to the line they mark. You ‘pass’ each time.

“You’re coming on the trip,”

“I’ve earned your trust,” your mouth felt dry, the edible you took before 6th period still hasn’t worn off yet and you were trying to keep calm- there’s no way he was going to ruin your high.

“You’ve earned yourself suicide watch and consistent drug tests. My trust for you disappeared when I found you damn near dead and had to watch them hook you up to machines and put you on temporary dialysis amongst other things to save your life,”

He was still bitter. It happened a month ago. He should be over it, you were.

“Fuck you, Dad,” you stormed off to your room and slammed the door

“Don’t you talk to me like that in my house!,” he yelled from the other side of your door. He should have taken it off the hinges like he planned.

You didn’t want to go on some stupid resort. Something about channeling your inner peace and looking at the bigger picture. Everyone was going, even his old team members, a family you didn’t feel a part of, he thought it’d be a good idea to surround yourself with good company.

You scream out and begin throwing clothes into a bag knowing he wasn’t letting up.

You see the glimmer of a small plastic baggy under your mattress and pull it out, seeing an array of candy. Maybe you could survive this trip?

You stuff the baggy in a pair of socks and smile, hoping to get a sense of familiarity.

You were gonna survive this trip.

—————

You shouldn’t have worn shorts today. That stupid health class intern saw the marks on your thigh and told the school nurse and now your found yourself in the car with your dad yelling at you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you not realize you have a main artery in your thigh! Had you gone deep enough you would have been gone, Y/N! What the fuck is wrong with you,”

You figured if a parent found their 11 year old was cutting themselves they’d do something other than yell... they’d do something other than tell the entire family and have them call at you just to yell at you as well.

“Nothing in life is that bad for you to do that to yourself!!,”

“That’s stupid, Y/N! Who in their right mind would do that to themselves?!,”

You heard it all. You cried when you got home, and hugged your little brother, not knowing if you’d ever get the chance to again because you were on the verge of ending it all. 11 years old... wanting to end it... you weren’t sure what was wrong with you. You just woke up every day hating yourself, woke up everyday wondering what life would be like for your family had you not been born.

Your older sister didn’t know how to help.. and your little brother was sure he was going to lose his sister.

You believed you were a by-product of a bad relationship. So your self-hatred started young. Watching your parents argue everyday- watching your mom cry because your dad kicked all of you out on Christmas Eve and you had to stay with your grandparents... watching the ugly divorce and how he became an alcoholic and she became emotionally unavailable.. even having to talk to the cops because your dad left bruises on your legs, from beating you because you were calling out for him due to being afraid to sleep in your own room when you usually sleep in his...

But he had a lady friend over that night....

The meds the psychiatrist put you on gave you chest pains... you went from using a pair scissors to hurt yourself to watching YouTube videos on how to get a blade out of a shaving razor. You skipped meals just to be a little skinnier like everyone else in your family.

You wrote notes.. you wore black sweatshirts, even in the prime of summer, to cover your arms when you ran out of space on your thighs and ankles and hips. You were a mess and no one came close to understanding. You don’t know how or why you turned out this way.

You felt like your mom hated you, you felt like your dad wasn’t your dad, like he was just there... you were stuck in a place where you felt like you didn’t belong and it made your heart skip beats. It had you crying almost every night.

And everyday you struggled. Waiting for the day that you snap and off yourself.

————-

“Y/N! Y/N!,” you felt your sister, Savannah, nudge you in your rib cage, “Uncle Buck was talking to you, snap out of it,”

You felt everyone hug you and it felt unfamiliar. You felt out of place. All these bright green trees looked fake- the air was too clean- the water in the cups too pure.

You craved to be surrounded by drugged, dancing bodies, feeling the beat of the music vibrating every single nerve in your body. You wanted to feel like you were on the edge of death just to feel alive. You wanted to be surrounded by guys and girls who gave you the slightest bit of attention and took you home. You wanted to feel loved even if it were for a few hours out of the night.

You didn’t want to be here- you wanted to feel the burn of alcohol run down your throat. You wanted to see auras around everyone as you blinked. You wanted to hide in the bathroom and stumble against the walls, laughing as you struggled to get your pants down to pee. You wanted to numb every single thought, you wanted to get so blacked out you couldn’t remember anything that ha-

“Y/N, lets go unpack,” Natasha’s hand grasped around yours and you let her drag you to one of the resort rooms. Your bag tight around your shoulder, you looked around the room and hated to be in it. It was too bright, too colorful... you wanted to be in a dark room under a guy as he choked you out and you felt him deep in your stomach. You wanted to be in a dark room, feeling a someone’s lips on you, replicating what you expect love to be like.

Everything was too fucking bright... too bright compared to the dark rooms you’d be in at night, intoxicated, crying, while getting your brains fucked out because you just wanted to feel affection... even if it was fake.

“How have you been feeling?” She sits on the bed as you stand at the door, frowning at everything in the room, “You can be honest with me- I won’t tell Sam. I know it’s hard not having anyone to talk to-,”

“Is there a town close by?,” you snap your eyes towards her. It might be a dumb question but you zoned out the whole three hour ride here.

“Ugh yeah, about 20 minutes out, why?”

“C-can you get me? S-something? I- I need to... I just need to ebb the feelings away,”

“I want to help you, b-but I can’t do that for you,” she knew what you meant but no way in hell would she advocate for you continuing to tear yourself down.

“So why lie and say I can be honest if you can’t give me the one thing I need?!,” you felt the walls closing in. You focused too much on one thing and you found yourself stumbling.

“Y/N, it’s okay, I’m here, calm down, calm down,”

“Get out!!,” you felt your hands shaking, you had no control over anything, “I want to be alone! Get the fuck out!,”

“I can’t leave you alone like this!,”

You take your bag and storm off to the bathroom to lock the door. You wasted no time in digging in the bag for the sock with the little baggy of pills, popping three in your mouth and swallowing them dry. You don’t remember what kind of drug it was... you were just hoping it made you feel good.

—————

You were on autopilot. You forgot how to walk but your muscle memory helped propel you to the dining hall and there they had a sermon about trusting life’s forces and welcoming traumas to push through triggering times. You felt like it was a bunch of bull crap but you were interested because you were high off your ass.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,”

Your dad eyed you closely but worried less when he actually saw you head to the bathroom.

You paced the bathroom until a girl walked in and eyed you closely.

“Your family drag you here too?,” she eyed you up and down. She knew your behavior all too well. You were on the verge of a withdrawal break down.

“You from around here?,” you wanted to get out of here. You wanted to have fun, you wanted to get hammered.

“Yeah why?,”

“Know any parties? Like- with tons of alcohol a-and stuff? I can’t sit around here and listen to this circle of life bullshit! I. Need. Sweat and hookups and to not remember anything,” you rambled and rambled until the girl calmed you down.

“Dude, chill out,” she placed her hands on your shoulder and shook you to calm you down, “Meet me by the ugly ass evergreen tree by the entrance- midnight. I’m about to lose my cool in this place too,”

She could really be a murderer, you don’t know this girl, nor a name, nothing. But it was worth a try. Not like you’d end up being best friends.

—————

It was easy. Savannah was out cold after the dinner- she loved to eat but, it never stuck. You wish you were like that but no... it stuck everywhere, it always did.

Your dad did his last check on you at 10 so it was easy to leave. The girl waited for you in her little Prius and you went about your way.

“I’m Eve by the way,”

“Y/N,”

You didn’t want to converse. You wanted chemicals coursing through your veins to shut off every single thought, every voice, every vision in your head.

“So what’s your story? You know this resort- It’s supposed to be some pseudoscience rehab,”

“Listen, Eve,” you sighed, “I’m not one for talking, now, get some alcohol in me and then you can get in my head, hell maybe even my pants, but until then, I don’t like to talk,”

“My parents found me with a needle in my arm,” she admitted, you cursed under your breath and realized she was gonna ramble anyway. But maybe this was good for her, someone her age, someone she could relate to, “It was laced but... God it was something great and I... I never wanted it to end,” she talked as if it was a dream.

“They told me I flatlined a couple times- I couldn’t tell though but... maybe I did because I felt like I was in heaven,”

She kept talking about her experiences until you pulled up to a house with a bunch of cars out front, you didn’t even wait for her to fully stop the car before jumping out and running inside.

You saw a bunch of tangled, kissing bodies, slumped, passed out bodies, people candy flipping, people snorting lines. You weren’t sure which poison to pick.

You walked up to a girl passing small baggies around, “What’s this?,”

“Its a new street drug called angel wings, wanna try it?,”

“Will it make me feel better than lsd?,”

“Way better, dude,”

“How much can 50 bucks buy?,”

“2 baggies. Five pills come in each,”

You slapped the fifty in her hands and snatched two from her, damn near ripping one of the baggies open, to pop a single periwinkle pill in your mouth and snatching someone’s cup to swallow it down. You spotted Eve looking around for you and rushed over to her, grabbing her hand.

“Wanna dance?,”

“Did you take something already?,”

“Yeah man, you wanted to talk? I’m drugged up enough to talk,”

————

Not much talking happened. You felt yourself crying until she held your face to wipe the tears away and you found yourself in her lap, kissing her with all your might.

“Y/N you don’t want to slow down? We don’t have to do this,”

You took almost a whole baggy of angel wings and felt like you were flying, every single touch she placed on your body made the hairs on your skin stand up.

“Wanna forget, everything,” you slurred, “y-you don’t have to because... someone else will but... I trust you- to take care of me,”

Eve felt her heart swell at your words. She squeezed your thighs in her hands. Your skin was soft just like her ex’s. The one Eve lost due to her addiction driving her away. You gave her a sense of familiarity, so she kissed you back with just as much urgency. Eve had her own drug of choice running through her own bloodstream and every time you touched her had her body vibrating with tingles. She flipped you over and removed any piece of clothing that got in her way.

“Love me...,” you pleaded, your eyes found hers in the dark room. The dark room you’ve been craving just so no one could see you, they can feel you and maybe see your silhouette but the can’t see... you. You felt tears come to your eyes and you were thankful she couldn’t really see them.

“Even though it’s fake.. just... just love me how you would love someone else,”

Teeth clashed, toes curled, muscles tensed, backs arched, it was invigorating. It might have been the drugs, it might have been the fact that Eve seemed to know you like her favorite song. The both of your fingers were soaked and sticky. Skin bruised with love bites and dented with nail impressions. Throats raw from moaning and begging.

You were close and once you hit the big O, you understood the meaning behind the drug name. You heard the beating of wings and saw the bright light. You were an angel ascending and the gates of heaven opened for you just as you let out that final scream of Eve’s name. Eve... first of God’s creation.

You felt her lips on your cheek as she came with you, she held you tight and you stared up at the ceiling, letting your body tremors calm as your mind shut down with the rest of you.

—————

Eve sobered up but you made sure to drink half a bottle of cheap scotch before heading back to face the wrath of your dad.

You saw the big ugly evergreen and grumbled to yourself. Eve held your hand the whole drive and you cringed at any contact. You felt bad that you felt repulsed by her touch but you were too sober for any interaction of the sort.

She parked the car and kissed your cheek, you let her, before getting out and mumbling a thank you and goodbye and heading back in the direction of your room. You slightly stumbled and didn’t notice everyone waiting for you outside. You sniffled and felt your nose hurt, you don’t even remember snorting anything. Don’t remember what pill you popped, what drug you sniffed or what drink you took to the head and that’s how you liked it.

“Where the hell have you been?,”

Your dad’s voice was muffled and all you could do was flutter your eyes at him.

“You’re drugged up right now aren’t you?!”

You simply walked around him in what felt like slow motion, you ignored everyone eyeing you like a helpless puppy and went in the resort room to go to the bathroom.

“Don’t walk away from me, Y/N! What is it going to take for you to get better?! To stop this shit?! You’re killing yourself and don’t even realize it!,”

“Oh I realize it,” you crawl in the bathtub and just sit there. You don’t turn on any water, you just sit there

“I just don’t care enough”

——————

You woke up to a splitting headache, still lying in the tub. You groan as you pick yourself up and head out to the room to see Savannah sitting at the foot of the bed, waiting for you to sober up.

“Why can’t you be normal?,” her eyes were red like she’d been crying, Keith was out cold, he fell asleep waiting for you to wake up, “You’re putting dad through so much. You’re traumatizing Keith. Get a fucking grip and sober up!,” she gritted through her teeth.

“I didn’t ask to be this way. I didn’t ask to be born, Savannah. I’m sorry I’m not perfect and pretty and popular like you or a kid genius like Keith. I’m sorry I’m a junkie with no future. You were there when I was in therapy. You were there when they diagnosed me with an anxiety disorder a-and bipolar disorder and an addictive personality... you were there... I didn’t ask to be this way. Want me to be normal? Well rewire everything in my fucking head to do it,”

She wiped her face and shook her head, “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you,”

“Well don’t. If I’m not worried you shouldn’t be,” you undress and wrap yourself in a towel for a shower, “I’m too far gone for worrying,”

—————

The next day there were multiple families at one of the sermon meeting thingies and it just so happened to be set up like a fucking AA meeting.

“I’m not doing this bullshit,” It was your turn to speak and you scoff, getting ready to get up and leave until Sav stopped you. You heard everyone else’s story and it didn’t inspire you to get better, it didn't move you. You didn’t give a shit about any of this.

“Do this for me... for Keith,”

You saw Keith practically pleading you and you sat back down to introduce yourself.

“I’m Y/N,”

“Welcome, Y/N,” everyone said around the room.

“I’m only here because I was forced to,” You laugh to yourself, “I don’t believe I can get better, I mean I haven’t been anyway. I’ve been faking my drug tests to pass, I’m still using, still drinking,”

You could feel Sam burning holes in the side of your head at your admission.

“Last night I snuck out and got so high I felt like I was flying,” you sighed happily, “I don’t remember when I started using but I uh- it might have been when I was trading my anxiety meds for stronger pills like ecstasy then I jumped to lsd just to run away from my fucked up reality,”

You catch Tony’s eyes, then Steve then Nat and Wanda and Bucky and so on and they all looked at you with fucking pity, it made you sick.

“I don’t believe in this shit okay? I don’t believe in praying away all these fucking chemical imbalances in my head!,” you felt your stomach churn and you felt your eyes sting, “I think I’m okay! I’m fine!,” you yelled, you were angry now, you hated being forced to talk about it.

“I’m doing a lot better with drugs and alcohol than I am without,” you were really trying to convince yourself, you weren’t fooling anyone, “When I’m high I experience the highest of highs! I- I can stay up for days and not need a wink of sleep,” You animated your gestures and looked around in hopes someone would understand.

“I can finally eat without throwing it back up because then I don’t hate myself so fucking much!,” You pound your thighs and felt the shakes come back, “I can finally eat- I can finally give myself the basic things a human needs without hating myself for it” you felt tears pool in your eyes and you hated yourself for crying but you blamed it on the 24 hours of sobriety.

“When I’m high, I don’t feel the extreme lows of my disorders. I finally break out of my shell and meet new people. I talk! I- I meet guys and they show me affection even if it’s for an hour or two and I finally feel loved in my life!,”

You felt Savannah rest her hand on your arm until you jerk away.

“When I’m high- I’m waaaay up and and... and I’m happy! I don’t feel depressed I don’t feel anxious. Being high or drunk shuts up that stupid voice in my head and no one gets it! I am better inebriated! Why can’t you see that!!,” you look to Sam for an answer and all you can see is tears in his eyes.

“And if I die? Hell! It’d be best for everyone! You wouldn’t have to worry anymore! You w-wouldn’t have to waste money on doctors visits just for me to pour someone else’s piss in a fucking cup! No suicide watch! No more not trusting me. No more me faking to be happy.. if this kills me?? Everyone would get what they wanted,”

“What do you think everyone wants, Y/N?,” the woman running the session finally speaks up. Everyone around the room seemed worried for you. You truly didn’t understand why.

You look to Savannah and shake your head.

“Peace,” you shrug and angrily wipe your eyes,

“A normal life”

—————

Once you got back to the room you scream, you screamed so loud and cried and pulled at your roots, you saw yourself in the mirror and threw it off the wall just so you wouldn’t have to look at yourself

“Be normal!,” you screamed at yourself. You felt like a noose was around your neck and the ground beneath you opened up leaving you hanging, feet kicking, desperate for air.

“Why can’t I b-be norm-mal?,” you choked on your words and clawed at your throat. Everything was upside down and spinning.

You didn’t hear the door open, you didn’t know anyone was in the room until your dad picked you up and dragged you outside.

The cool air rushed its way into your nasal passages and your chest opened up with a gasp. You couldn’t see your dad because of the tears, you could barely hear him.

“N-norm-mal... I wanna be normal,” You kept repeating over and over until your body gave out succumbed to your meltdown. Sam hugged your body and rocked you back and forth, despite people watching from their own rooms or passing by.

“We’re gonna get you help,”

“I don’t want he-help. I want it to end! I want black out from all the shit I take a-and not wake up!,”

Sam didn’t know what to do. He knows the trauma he caused you was a part of the reason you’re in this spot and mindset.

“I ruin everything I touch... I... I just..,” out of all the things you could have become- you had to become an addict. At first you didn’t want to acknowledge it because you were functioning just fine, that is until you couldn’t wake up and go about your day without it, you couldn’t do basic daily tasks without popping a perc here and there, until you couldn’t go to sleep without taking something, “I want it to stop but then- then again I don’t b-because I love it- it’s disgusting,”

“It’s going to be okay,”

“But it’s not. Nothing is okay a-and you need to get comfortable with the idea of this killing me because- because it’s going to happen,”

———

“I don’t think drinking is going to help, Sam”

Tony took the cup from Sam and he lost it, “I’m gonna lose my daughter and it’s all my fault,”

Tony didn’t know how to talk about this kind of thing- what can be said?

“It’s no one’s fault, Sam. Life doesn’t always hand us the best cards,”

Sam sniffled and shook his head, lost, frustrated, angry, upset, “What can I do? I’m losing hope,”

“I don’t think you’re going to like my answer but it seems to be her best option,”

Sam looked hopeful- anything will do as long as it gave you a chance to get clean and stay alive

“What is it?,”

———

“Inpatient rehab?!,”

He dropped the bombshell when you all got back home. Dropped it right in front of everyone- maybe he expected you to welcome the idea with open arms but you know what goes on behind those closed doors.

“You’re fucking kidding!,” you had dark circles under your eyes and your lips were dry- your dad had literally kept you on lock down the remainder of the trip, you didn’t even have in person contact with Eve but you did however end up with her number to hit her up whenever.

“You admitted you had a problem, honey. This could be good for you,” Bucky spoke up and you scoffed loudly.

“I’m not going!,” You tugged on the sleeves of your maroon sweater and paced the room, “They’re just going to lock me in a room to the point where I have cold sweats and screaming for more morphine to make the pain, itches and delusions stop!,”

Nat tried to take your hand in hers but you slapped her hand away.

“Y/N!,” Keith stomped his foot and you stared at his small stature. Tears glistening in his eyes, bottom lip quivering, “You need help!! Stop it!,”

You scowled and turned away from your baby brother. Your body trembled as you tried to keep the sobs in.

“When do I go?,”

You weren’t prepared for the answer, but you should have expected it yet your stomach still dropped.

“They’ll be here to pick you up in an hour,”

—————

“Nothing is real,” you mumbled to yourself as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Your face was dull, eyes boring and empty, hair thinning, appetite decreasing. You’d think being here for 60 days so far would do you some good but no...

You barely slept. The first 30 days you cried and screamed to be saved but now you barely even speak. You sat back on your bed just to turn to the wall.

“Wilson- you have visitors,” the nurse came into your room and saw you sitting facing the wall. You were now eligible to have visitors and spend time with family and friends.

“Don’t want visitors,” you cleared your throat and stared at the pale yellow paint on the wall, judging the job of the painters for leaving so many air bubbles in the paint.

“This could do you some good,” your nurse shuts the door behind her and sits with you on your bed, “Your family loves and misses you. Seeing them could motivate you to finish this strong,”

That made you laugh, genuinely. Your body shook with an animated belly laugh.

“They fucking locked me away in here,” you frowned, feeling sick to your stomach, “They let those people drag me away and lock me in here. Fuck their love, it’s not real!,”

She sighed and nodded knowing nothing she said would change how you feel. She’s seen it plenty of times before. She’s seen people recover completely yet still resent their families and loved ones for sending them here.

“I’m always able to contact them if you ever change your mind,”

“Fat chance,”

——

The nurse walked to the family area to see the hopeful faces of your family and loved ones. They hadn’t seen you in 60 something days.

“I’m sorry but Y/N isn’t feeling well enough to have visitors,” the nurse plays with her watch band and hates to see the way everyone’s faces drops.

“I want to see my sister!,” Keith tugged on Sam.

“What do you mean she’s not feeling well? She should be feeling at least a little fine in this stage right?,”

She sighs and shakes her head, “The stages in recovery are subjective. Chemical dependency is a hard thing to battle- some days she’s fine and some days like today she’s angry at everything and everyone. As much as I would like for her to see everyone, we can not force her,”

Steve stands up and sets a hand on Sam’s shoulder, “On a day, that she’s feeling better, will you call us?,”

“Of course,”

———

“I know she’s still angry,” Sam sent Savannah and Keith to their rooms while he stayed up with everyone else, “She’s my daughter, I know how she is. She holds grudges a-and she’s still upset,”

“Maybe, but she’ll see this was something she needed,” Bruce tried to make things better but nothing would be better until you were.

“How did things get this bad?,” he slammed his glass on the table and startled everyone.

“I know it’s hard right now but just- just calm down, Sam,” Bucky worried about his friend. He could only imagine how much he was losing his mind and hope on the inside.

“Calm down?,” Sam asked incredulously, “Calm the fuck down?! How can I calm down when I don’t even know if I’m going to see my daughter again, man?,” the legs of the chair screeched against the floor as he stood up in a rush.

Wanda rested a hand on his arm to try and soothe him but he wasn’t having it, “We get it, Sam. We know you’re hurting-,”

“But you don’t!,” he shouted, “You weren’t there when I got a phone call at work from her school nurse saying she had cuts all on the inside of her thigh! You didn’t see it! It looked like fucking grid paper and crosshatching! You weren’t there when I had to sit there in therapy and listen to the way she talks about herself and her life and me- my daughter hates herself and genuinely thinks I hate her and she believes everything that goes wrong is her fault- you didn’t hear the way she talked about herself!,”

For longest time Sam kept quiet about all of this, just wanting to push through it until it got better but it was time he faced the music.

“You weren’t there when she screamed at me, telling me she wished she was never born and I just stood there calling her ungrateful, selfish and dramatic! I didn’t listen to her, I only paid attention to Savannah and Keith and left her feeling unloved. You weren’t there when I caught her sneaking out and she was drunk, you weren’t there when I ignored everything the psychiatrist said about her having an addictive personality and excused all the signs she started to display until I fucking found her blacked out with throw up all over her!,”

He realized he couldn’t just pin it all on you. You were suffering and he hated himself for not realizing it until he was.

No one knew what to say- they were only outsiders, sure they were family but they didn’t get an inside scoop until a few months ago when they got a phone call from Sam saying you were in the hospital. They still didn’t know how to handle it. They could fight bad guys and fucking aliens all day but addiction of a loved one? That was new and left them stumped.

“But damn you were there when she talked about being okay with it if this just killed her. No one wants to hear a loved one say that- especially their child!,” he ran a hand over his face to get rid of the tears, he felt like he didn’t have a right to cry, “I did a lot of wrong as her father and I didn’t even think how my shitty actions contributed to where she is now. Now my daughter could be dying while trying to recover,”

Tony stood up and pulled Sam in a hug, grateful that Sam was seeing everything from a different perspective than his own. He was grateful that Sam was a father trying to right his wrongs and do better.

“It’s not too late,”

————

Your nurse came a few times a week letting you know that you had visitors but you turned them away each time.

The cold sweats happened less, you ate more, your skin started to warm up again and you could finally sleep throughout the night but you still wouldn’t see them. It’d probably bring back a ton of memories that would trigger you to relapse.

You earned yourself time out of the facility but only with supervision. Your nurse, Brielle, accompanied you to trips to the park and lunches.

“Y/N?,”

You looked in the direction of the voice and saw Savannah smiling at seeing you but fear just filled you.

She looked different, she cut her hair and dyed it, her make up was softer and her style was more... indie?

“I’ve missed you so much,” she moved in for a hug but you moved away only to see her smile drop, “Y/N, don’t do that. I’m your sister,”

“I’m recovering from substance abuse not amnesia,” You scowled. You turned to Brielle and asked her to go.

“Why can’t you just be normal?,”

Savannah’s voice echoed in your head and you felt a band around your head tightening yet again, it was your body’s reaction to let you know that you need to get out of the situation or else you’d fall subject to a mental break.

“Brielle, we gotta go,” You scooted out of the booth, past Savannah and tugged Brielle out of the restaurant- forgetting that you were even ordering.

“Y/N please! Talk to me! Talk to Keith, Dad! We miss you,”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!!,” you covered your ears and dropped down against the car, feeling dizzy, feeling every swirl around you as you tried to grasp onto reality.

“Grow through what you go through, grow through what you go through, grow through what you go through,”

You repeated the mantra over and over again. It’s a mantra designed specifically for you. Every patient gets their own mantra for when they feel like they’re losing. Yours is to help you remind yourself that nothing is ever easy but that doesn’t mean give up... life and it’s struggles will always be there but that doesn’t mean stunt your growth and efforts. Grow through what you go through.

“That’s right, you’re doing great,” Brielle whispered, she looked at Savannah over her shoulder and shook her head, “I know it’s hard not seeing her but it’s in Y/N’s best interest that she be willing to see you or anyone else on her own terms,”

Savannah hated to see you crouched on the ground, shaking and mumbling to yourself. She mumbled a sorry before rushing over to her car and crying to herself as she drove home and bursting through the doors, clearly upset to everyone else.

“Dad what’s wrong with, Vanna?,”

Sam looked up to see Savannah cursing to herself, and crying. She wasn’t upset with anyone but herself.

“She looked so scared of me!,”

Sam’s stomach dropped, he didn’t even have to ask who ‘she’ was.

“You saw her?,” Sam didn’t trust his voice and there was a reason for it.

“She was out with her nurse. She looks so much better a-and she looks healthy, she’s eating again. She doesn’t look she’s dying!,”

Savannah was rambling and frustrated that she triggered you like that, “I saw her, I spoke to her but I scared her so bad she fell to the ground and covered her ears so she wouldn’t hear me talking, I- what if she relapses and it’s all my fault?,”

Sam pulled his sobbing daughter into his arms and calmed her down as best as he could, “She’s your sister, anyone in that situation would have done what you did, you miss her and that’s valid,”

It mad him feel good that you seemed to be getting better, that you looked healthy and lively. He just hoped you would be willing to see everyone soon.

------

“You have visitors today but I can send them aw-,”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” it’s been another 30 days and you figured it’s time to face the music, face everyone and maybe get the supposed closure everyone was saying you needed,

You missed her initial shock from your response but she nodded and waited for you anyway. You slipped on your cardigan and slippers, then let Brielle lead you to the visiting area.

Everyone expected to be turned away again but when they saw a second body behind Brielle, they all stood up ready to greet you but she held her hands up in caution

“It’s best to not overwhelm her and to let her initiate any contact,”

Sam just wanted to hug his daughter and let her know how sorry he was but he knew she was right. 

You hated the way you felt their eyes burning into you, you couldn't bear to look at them, not yet, so your eyes focused on getting your foot directly in the center of each tile on floor. Brielle sat you down across from them and told you she’d be right outside if you needed anything.

Then there you all were. Face to face.

“It’s been so long,” Keith whimpered, “I missed you so much,”

You played with a stray string in your cardigan and sighed.

“It’s been a long four months, sweetie. I missed you so much,” Sam just wanted you to look at him. Your hair was getting thick again, you skin shone under the sun, your lips were moisturized with color instead of grey and chapped. He could see you were doing better

“Four months, 17 days, 3 hours, 44 minutes and” You cut your attention to the clock on the wall, “12 seconds,” your voice was hoarse and you cursed yourself for it, “That's how long it’s really been,” you wrapped your arms around yourself as a comforting gesture.

“I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to push you to that point, baby. I should have been better,”

“Life is too short to feel sorry for ourselves,” you looked up at the ceiling light and shrugged, “This place is all about being philosophical. Don’t be sorry, be better. That’s all they fucking say,” you grit through your teeth.

“Like oh, don't feel sorry for yourself- no one forced you to drink so much, no one told you to roll up that dollar bill, no one held a gun to your head and told you to take those pretty pills with cool names that look like candy,” you smiled and laughed at yourself, the nervous tick you’ve developed to keep from crying.

“No one told you to be ungrateful and hate the gift of life that was given to you, so don't feel sorry for yourself, be better,” you used a mocking voice and rolled your eyes, “There’s no need to blame yourself, the common variable is me, I have to be accountable for my actions,” 

Everyone was worried about how scripted this sounded but they dubbed it down to you being a little upset about being forced here, still.

“I still should have been a better, dad,”

“We aaalll make mistakes, Sammy,” he didn’t miss that you didn’t call him dad. Everyone caught it, “But not every dad kicks their family out on Christmas eve with nowhere to go in the freezing cold,”

His heart stopped, he’s never forgiven himself for that drunken mistake. The marriage problems between him and your mom drove him to develop a drinking problem and due to his little problem, it caused him to mess up a lot of things up. 

“Why was it me? Like why did Savannah and Keith get to move past all of this and I’m the one stuck? I’m the one suffering even while recovering?”

No one could answer that.

“Why did I have to be the one to talk to the cops because you sent me back to mom with bruises on my legs, huh? I didn’t want to- I didn’t want them to go after you because you were still my dad- I still loved you after yelling at me at dinner, I still loved you after sending me back to mom early when you couldn’t stand to be around me- I still loved you when you moved away and missed big chunks in my life but you kept Sav and Keith. What did I do? Tell me, please, maybe I can fix it, maybe I can be better. I just want my dad to love me,”

“I do love you Y/N! And I’ll never forgive myself for-,

“Don't be sorry! Be better!,” you shouted over him. Angry with yourself that you began crying.

No one knew what to say. Everyone else was here for support but this was clearly a father and daughter situation.

“Did you ever love me?,”

A question a child should never have to ask their parent.

“When I got the call that your mother was in labor with you on my birthday the world stopped,” Sam sat with his elbows on his knees, looking dead at you but you still wouldn’t look at him, “You were the best gift I could have ever asked for.. ever. After we had you, I can’t tell you what went wrong because I don’t know,”

“It’s my fault,” You sobbed, “Say it! It’s my fault. Had I not been born, everyone’s life would be better!,”

You finally looked at him and everyone could see the fire in your eyes, wild and couldn’t be tamed, your trauma being the fuel.

“It’s not your fault at all. I have failed you as a father and I... I let it go on for far too long without acknowledging it and apologizing for it before it got too late,”

“If I could go back in time to make things better I would. I never wanted you to feel unloved or that life would be better without you,”

He hated to be sitting across from you, your mind dead set on him hating you. He just screwed up a lot in his life.

“I let you down so much. I love you more than you could ever know. I just fucked up a lot as your dad,”

“Y/N, sweetie, I know this is hard,” Tony chimed, “But this could be a new beginning for you both. You’re recovering and he’s trying to right his wrongs before it’s too late. It’s not going to be easy and I know everything hurts and it’s going to take time but you know what they say.. grow through what you go through,”

You didn’t have time to ask how he knew your mantra, but it made sense eventually.

“I forgave you a long time ago, dad,” you pulled your cardigan sleeves down, and used them to wipe your eyes, “I didn’t think it’d matter if I became Falcon’s candy flipping daughter or not, I just wanted to make everything stop. I- I just wanted to be numb so I didn’t feel bad about any and everything,”

Sam didn’t take into account how much you were actually battling in day to day life. He didn’t believe anything the psychiatrist was saying when you were 10, if only he did, all of this could have been avoided.

“I’m still fighting my want to just relapse in anyway I can but... I can’t bring myself to do it because I know if I do, that might be it and I don’t want it to be that way dad,” 

He reached out to grab your hands and could have sobbed when you didn’t move away

“It doesn't have to be,“

------

180 days is a long time, it might not seem like it, but it is a long ass time for someone to go without something that they believe made them better. Someone who took multiple substances at a time just to shut down their mind so they don’t remember things, so they don’t feel things.

“You gonna be ok watching Keith? We need Sav on this,”

“I got him, dad. Just be safe,”

Sam hated to admit it but he was still worried to leave you alone. He made Tony put away all of his alcohol and set up a security code so no one could get in it.

“I won’t have anyone over, I don’t know the code to the cellar. I’m not going to put Keith through that again, dad. Have a bit more trust in me,”

He watched the way your eyes twinkled and nodded before kissing your cheek and heading out with the team.

“Can we play mancala? No one else likes to play it with me,“

“Sure thing, bud. Let’s go,”

You two played mancala for multiple rounds, just for him to beat you almost every time. You two watched Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader for hours while eating shitty kraft mac and cheese before getting him ready for bed.

“Can you stay with me? So I know you’re safe,” 

“Did dad put you up to that?,“

“I just miss my big sister, Y/N,” He sat up and played with his blanket, “I almost saw you dead... you wouldn’t talk to us for forever, I just missed my big sister,” you didn’t mean to make him cry.

“Hey, hey, I’m right here buddy, I’ll stay, okay?,”

You crawled under his blanket and held him tight and he held you even tighter, not wanting you to leave. 

----

You don’t know what triggered the nightmare but you woke up in your own room, right on the floor, sweaty and panting. You never sleep walk. You felt something stick to your sweaty palm and look down to see a small plastic baggie with those pretty blue pills from the night you blacked out. 

You threw it across the room and curled up against the side of your bed whimpering your mantra to yourself.

“Would you like me to call for help?,” Friday spoke overhead.

“I'm okay,” you clenched your eyes shut and did what you could to muster up the strength to just get up and flush them. It should have been a relief to do it but you felt a pang in your chest. You should have been proud of yourself for having the strength to not break sobriety. 

“I thought you said you were gonna be okay?,” Keith’s voice scared the hell out of you, “If you were going to be okay then you wouldn’t look so upset as you flushed them,“

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Keith. Go back to bed,“

“I’m telling dad,”

“Tell him what?,” you snapped your neck to him, eyes narrowing, “What? that I’m still fucking struggling? Yeah, I’ll tell him myself, bud,”

“He’s gonna send you back,” Keith didn’t mean to scare you, he was just worried and his words weren’t coming out right.

“I’d rather shit in my hands and clap,” you threw the baggie away and walked past him to sit on your bed to just try and calm down.

“Do I need to call him,”

“No,”

“Then what needs to happen?,”

“I need you to just be quiet!,” you hated raising your voice at him, but the rambling and patronizing was not helping.

“I’m calling dad,”

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

It was past midnight when they were all headed back and Sam got the phone call from Keith.

“Hey, son,”

“Y/N was walking while she was asleep and then woke up with a bag of pills in her hands,”

“What? she didn’t take any did she?,” Sam’s tone had everyone turning to him with expressions of worry.

“No but she looked sad when she flushed them,”

Sam sighed happily when he heard you’d flushed them. But for you to seem sad while doing so?  that couldn’t be a good thing.

“She’s mad that I called you but you need to know, she locked herself in her room after yelling at me. I can hear her crying and talking to herself. I didn’t mean to make her mad, dad,”

Sam sighed and sat back down beside Savannah who was waiting for her dad to hang up so she could know what was happening.

“She’s going to be okay, bud. You have to understand that what she went through was not easy. She might be out of hat place but she’s fighting everyday  to continue to get better and get her mind far away from that stuff as best as she can. We have to be patient, okay?,”

You had been pacing in your room. You knew all of this would put you so many steps back with your dad and his trust. You flinched at the sound of knocking at your door and his voice.

“Sweetie, open up,” 

You didn’t want to face him right now. You didn’t want to talk about it, nothing. You didn’t need anyone scolding you as you were already scolding yourself. You hadn’t stopped beating yourself up about it.

Sam didn’t want to freak out when you didn’t reply. He didn’t want to admit that he thought the worst, “Honey, please,”

“Dad, I am fine. Get some rest,” another step back. You were doing good not shutting anyone out but the moment something goes down, you forget all your effort.

“Y/N, I am not here to be mad at you. I am here to make sure you’re okay and to let you know I am here. You just gotta let me in,”

You cursed to yourself before walking over to the door to unlock it and let him in. He didn’t hesitate to pull you into a tight hug. 

“I didn’t take anything,”

“I know... even if you did- I wouldn’t be mad at you, disappointed yes, but mad? No. Relapse sometimes comes with recovery,”

You don’t know that Sam had been attending seminars for parents that have kids battling different things such as addiction. Multiple lessons were learned as well as communication pointers. 

“I didn’t mean to do that while Keith was here. I understand if you don’t trust me anymore,”

“I still trust you, Y/N. You don’t need to be beating yourself up right now. You did the right thing in flushing whatever you had, even if it did make you a little sad and made you feel like you needed it in that moment. Be proud of yourself. You took a big step forward by doing that, be proud,”

“How can I be proud when I hate myself for flushing them?,” you had to be honest. You wouldn’t be feeling this if you weren’t presented with them. It made you feel weak. You should be able to look at these things and be able to say no with no guilt.

“Because you flushed them regardless. This takes time, Y/N. I’m being patient with you now, so you have to learn to be patient with yourself. Rome wasn’t built in a day,”

“Yeah well the people who built it up weren’t highed up on something now were they?,” 

“Don’t be self-deprecating. You’re still going strong. Be proud even if you feel like there isn’t a reason to be,”

You knew he was right. Whether you were sad about flushing them, you still got the guts to do it and that’s commendable, you should be proud. You were kicking your ass when you should be happy and feel relief. You shouldn’t be feeling this weight, you shouldn’t be feeling guilty.

You’re growing through what you go through and that deserves a pat on the back.

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

You don’t know how you got here. You went back to school and shit came crumbling down. You were going strong but the weight of responsibility and insecurity became too much. Walking down the fucking halls everyday, comparing yourself to every girl that looked like barbie then going to the bathroom to stare at your reflection and pick yourself apart until the voices became too loud for you to handle so you went to the school plug and slapped money in his hand

“Anything will do,”

After school he came back and handed you a black plastic bag with cheap alcohol in it. You hid in an empty class room and barely drank a quarter of the bottle before you felt sick, like your body was rejecting what you were trying to force down into it. 

Your fingers moved faster than your mind, grabbing for your phone and dialing away.

“Hello?,”

You sniffled and held the bottle close to your chest, “Uncle Tony? I- I...,” you hiccuped and hugged the bottle close to your chest, “Uncle Tony, I messed up,”

-----

He was there for you in no time. He knew you wouldn’t want to talk about it but he knew your dad would have to find out about this. 

“I don’t wanna go back. I’m done growing through what I grow through, its a crock of shit,”  you stared out the window, eyes heavy.

“I know the fight becomes annoying,” Tony sighed, “But from the looks of it, your body has already made a decision for you,” 

He was right, a few sips and your body was angry with you. You should be thankful because it didn’t always work like that with other people who were fighting this like you. Others bodies often welcomed such a thing back easily, the bodies of some couldn’t even continue the fight without it before giving out.

“Plus you let someone know, as soon as it happened. Everyone can see your efforts. You may be tired of growing through it but it’s become natural for you and you don’t even realize it, though I can’t blame you. I was the same way,”

He sprinkled that last bit in there like it was a dash of parsley to complete a dish and it had your neck snapping to look at him. “Excuse me?,”

He chuckled and raised his eyebrows all while mumbling “well,” he pulled to a stop light and looked over at you, “I wasn’t always the polished hero I am now,”

He patted your leg in a hopeful manner, “In my days of college, getting drugs was as easy as buying cola from the corner store. Trying to run a company that my dad didn’t really want me to have in the first place to staying up all day everyday to make it through college was bound to get me in some trouble,” the light turned green and he lightly put his foot on the gas to continue the peaceful rid home, “I’d snort some coke to keep me away and focus long enough to study, I thought it was normal because the other students were doing it, until it wasn’t about trying to focus on school anymore. It was about  how high I could get and how good I could feel to the point I couldn’t walk out my dorm in the morning for class without rubbing a little on my gums or cutting up a quick line,”

“How’d you kick it?,” You never would have thought he batted such a thing, he changed for the better and picked himself up.

“The nose bleeds. The doctor told me if I didn’t stop I wouldn’t see the day I graduated. Told me I’d never see the day where I became the man I deserved as a role model as a kid. I wanted to be better than him. In a moment of weakness, my recovery was fueled by spite,” 

“I guess everyone’s come-to-Jesus meeting is a bit different,” you give a small smile and shrug, “Mine was when Keith practically slapped some sense into me. He’s a kid, who wants their little sibling walking around knowing their older sibling is a fucking fiend?,” you give a harsh scoff and roll your eyes as you feel tears coming, “He didn’t deserve to see me like that, that night- in and out of consciousness, watching them pump me full of coal and other shit to keep me alive, that screwed up his head and he’s barely hit puberty yet,”

Tony could almost hear the tears in your voice, you had your head turned to look out the window, he didn’t need to see your face to know.

“He’s your ticket out of the dark room,”

-----

Your dad didn’t put you back in the rehabilitation center because you owned up to knowing you messed up, because you called someone for help, knowing the slight possibility that you might have gotten a few people upset.

It was all trial and error, a constant fight, day and night even in your moments of shut eye. 

It was a learning experience for Sam, it taught him how to be a better dad, taught him that although he can’t go back and change things, he still has now to break habits and form healthy ones and make them the foundation of a healthy relationship between father and child.

He was in your corner and that helped keep your head above water.

Addiction and mental illness were never cut and dry. There’d always be doubts and close calls of near relapse but it was a fight you’d be willing to put up with 24/7. 

You never wanted to be back in that dark room of addiction. Driving yourself insane trying to find the next fix so you feel “normal”- but there was nothing normal about forcing yourself to be numb, there was nothing normal about denying you need help. Nothing normal whatsoever about forcing chemicals that could kill you into your body just to be happy. 

This, this right here was normal. Feeling pain, fighting, crying, trials, everything that you’re feeling now. Feeling is normal, even if it hurts sometimes.

You’d never stop growing through what you go through, but the fight.. that effort you put in.. it’ll always be worth it.

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

this took so long to write because I was never satisfied with it. I kept editing and erasing and adding more. And here is the finished product. It doesn’t have to resonate with you but here it is. Thank you for the love and support you guys always gift me.

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED>

tags: @vozit @blackreaders-assemble @retroxvailles @champangebucky @sambucky8 @princess-toshii @sebbyslut @titty-teetee @ilovefanfic86 @valkyriesnymph @dumbchick @mbaku-babygirl​ @veryhellshdia @persephones24 @here-for-your-bullshit @mokacoconut @spideys-wife @xye-weirdo @chonisberonica @disaster-rose @micki-smiles @valentinevirgo @yournonlocalpoc​ @warmchick​ @hisxblackxqueen​

[tamedbyafox]

Its been a year since I had COVID.

Its been a year since I admitted that tickle in my throat was more than a tickle. That I’d definitely coughed 10 times today, which isn’t normal.That I wasn’t going to bed at 8 because I was bored, and that 1:30 PM nap wasn’t because I could, it was because I was too tired to keep sitting upright at my desk.

That when I took a deep breath....it wasn’t right. That it shouldn’t hurt like that. That my “in for four” was more of an in for three, maybe, and its not the same three its been since I was 12 and I first stared doing that silly routine a few times a day.

Its been a year since I caught covid and spent two weeks coughing, taking long hot showers, sleeping 16 hours a day when I wasn’t choking. Vomiting and praying and barely able to life a gallon of milk.

Me, the chef connoisseur, last week baking soda bread and making butter and prepping elaborate meals. The only thing I had the energy for was pasta with butter. The only thing I could keep down was a little chicken and some pasta.

Vomiting in literally every room in my apartment. Its not terribly common to get vomiting. Its atypical. But in a rough case, definitely happens. Vomiting from my bed, through the living room, through the bathroom, finally making it to the toilet. Winded and empty, tired and gross. Realizing I need to clean this. All of this. And it was bedtime - it was 8:30 PM and I knew I would be out cold soon, no matter what.

I drank over a gallon of water a day because there wasn’t anything more they thought might help me, just rest and liquids. Until...unless.... well, every few hours walk a few times across your apartment and if you can’t do it 4 times call me, if you can’t do it twice call 911. See if you can’t get a pulse oximeter. Pray someone will deliver it, since you shouldn’t go anywhere.

My temperature soaring and the Tylenol keeping it just under tight management. My fingers and toes freezing and shivering while I could feel my forehead burn. A humidifier I could barely lift. Hot showers and steam twice a day to keep the lungs moist and moving.

The fear. The raw fear. My mother’s voice on the other end of the phone, fresh out of the hospital herself - just getting out before the first waves landed, slipping out of her NeuroICU bed right before it was wheeled to a COVID ward. She cannot help me. She cannot come to me. She cannot help me. She cannot come to me. I must do this alone. I can cry for my mother all I want. I cannot cry for my mother when she calls. All she can do is call me and tell me to make some tea, go to bed, call her when I need her. My father dropping off food at the base of my apartment stairs and choking up; saying how relieved he is that I could make it up and down the three flights of stairs twice. My father trying to make jokes over the phone as he checks to see if I need anything, knowing I need a space that isn’t about...this. To give me just a few minutes of close-to-normal.

The voice of my grandmothers, both trying to tell me I sound so good, I sound like I’m getting stronger, I sound like I’m doing well. You sound so good my girl, you sound so good. I am so grateful, you sound so good as I mute my phone for coughing fits. My aunt talking to me about Easter, distracting me, keeping me focused on how next year, next year we’ll have Easter again. I send her pictures of my Easter breakfast. She catches that all the dishes are from her or her mother. We talk tradition. She was waiting as I coughed. Muting the phone when I realize its a fit. Don’t worry them too much, they don’t need to know. (Little would I learn, they were scared, I sounded terrible and my aunt said she wished I would rest, not try to talk. How could I tell her I needed someone there? In case I stopped breathing? someone had to hear my voice go.)

My friends. So kind. So willing. To sit on the phone with me, tell me anything please god don’t make me talk just please don’t let me be alone, the scariest part is that I am here and I am alone and dear god I don’t want to die alone. Across states and time zones and schedules they keep me safe and sane and saw me to bed.

Staring at the ceiling as my heart races. I don’t know why my heart is racing. Covid causes strokes in young people and my mom just had an aneurysm and what if its genetic and what if this pain in my arm is the heart attack they say covid can cause and why can’t I sleep and why is my heart rate above 140 all I am doing is laying here. Is this a panic attack or a heart attack; most days I know this is a panic attack but today I don’t know anything.

Zoom with my doctor.  Another Zoom with my doctor. Every few days, Zoom with my doctor. She has taken care of me since I was 12. I begged to be allowed to see her, asked her to take me even though I was young. She has known my mother for longer. She knew me when I was just a clump of cells inside my mother. She is not a kind woman. She has never been a kind woman. I love that about her, she is business and brusque and funny and takes care and kicks you out. And she lingers with me. She lets me talk, she is gentle. She doesn’t tell me that Day 10 is the critical day until our second to last appointment. She doesn’t explain a cytokine storm until we’re on the cusp. I enter that appointment feeling...better. My head is clear. I was able to stay up to 9:30 before I needed to sleep. I was excited and I had a real in-breath that day.

When she told me that the next few days. Things might just...change. There’s no predicting it, no telling, not until.... not until you need to call.  I leave knowing that this better feeling could be an Indian summer and  I fear it like I fear the first storms of November.

Two long weeks. Of absolute misery. Of being so fucking tired. So fucking scared. Another week. Trying to just get back to myself and get to a point I felt like I came home without being covered in virus. To throw myself into my father’s arms and finally feel safe again. A few more days. Until I can’t take it and I have doctor’s approval and I want to go HOME.

Do you know, that from April until August, I counted myself lucky? When I got sick, we had just learned that initial data categorized non-hospitalized pneumonia as a “mild” case. I thought I had a “mild” case. Of course, I was still breathing, it was mild. I was so grateful. so grateful. It was not that bad, just a mild case, just...just COVID. We didn’t know how many people actually died. 2 percent? 10 percent? We thought it lived on surfaces for weeks and that you couldn’t get it if you wiped your groceries.

I was so happy that I had a “mild” case. Until I learned that some people barely get symptoms. Until my friend told me that of the folks he knew, I had it worst. Until I realized in January that the heavy humidifier I could barely life half full, to lug just 10 feet onto a stand, wasn’t heavy. I carried it full, one handed, three times that distance without a blink. When my doctor, that callous woman, grabbed my hand and held it when I came in. When she told me she had been so worried. That she told me “to call you sick as a damn dog is an understatement”. When I realized I really had COVID.

I am so damn lucky. A year later. To be sitting here. In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two three four.

This past March was the first time I’ve been able to sing and do chores. I couldn’t sing while I worked. I couldn’t work if I was singing. There wasn’t enough air for it. This month I caught myself cleaning...and singing.

It’s been a year since I had COVID.

[aaronhart93-archive]

the make up part 2 ll alison & aaron

Discord thread featuring: Aaron & @alison-haynes

Mentions: @luca-regio @romanbeckett

When: August 3, 2020

Where: Dreamer’s Diner

Triggers: none I don’t think

Description: Aaron and Alison make up. AGAIN.

Alison.

Alison was nervous for breakfast. It had been nearly a week since telling Aaron that the two should take space from one another, and she had only responded to things that regarded Destiny. Honestly, the blonde sent way more pictures over the weekend of Destiny, just to be able to talk to her friend for just a moment. But now, now the two had to sit down and actually talk about the situation at hand. They had to talk about her pregnancy, their daughter, her boyfriend, and most importantly the friendship between them. There has never been something the two of them couldn’t overcome, so she hoped she hadn’t really screwed it up by telling Aaron they should take a break. Alison walked into Dreamers, taking in the smell of the coffee brewing. Alison loved the 50s diner, and was glad they chose there to meet. She spotted Aaron already seated and turned to Diego to let him know she was all set, though she knew her body guard would be just a few tables away. Alison walked over to the booth, sliding in across from Aaron. “Good morning.” She said softly.

Aaron.

Aaron has gotten up extra early this morning. He barely slept the night before anyway because he was so nervous for his breakfast with Alison. He just spent half the night tossing and turning, getting up to pace around the apartment. When the sun finally started rising, he decided it was an appropriate thing to go to the gym to get a solid workout in and let out some of her nerves. That worked until he got to the diner to sit down. It was funny how all of those nerves seemed to vanish when he saw Alison walk into the diner. A huge smile came across his face. He was just so happy to finally see her again, even though it hadn’t really been that long. Aaron started to stand up to give her a hug, but quickly sat back down when she sat down across from him. “Morning.” He said, clearing his throat. “I ordered your regular. And coffee.” He said, pointing to the steaming cup in front of her. “Food should be out soon. How was Rhode Island?” He asked, voice shaking a little.

Alison.

Alison was glad to see Aaron, she had missed him all week. She was used to texting Aaron, all day, everyday. It had been really hard to go a week without sending him a text that didn't involve their daughter.  Alison was unsure how this morning was going to go. She didn't want things to change between her and Aaron, but at the same time, she had to respect Luca and his wishes. At the end of the day, it was Luca she was in love with,  and the baby growing inside her was Luca's child. Aaron, Destiny and Alison were a family, but so were Luca, Alison and the baby inside of her. She wished that it could be one big family, where everyone got along, but that wasn't the case. "Thank you," She said, adding cream into her coffee, and reaching for the sugar packets. "Rhode Island --," The truth was, Rhode Island was a mess. She spent most of the week, sitting alone -in a house that was far too big for one person- thinking thoughts, that really shouldn't be in her mind, but they were. The only time she enjoyed in Rhode Island, was the weekend when her daughter was with her. She smiled sadly at Aaron, "--it was great." She said, though she was sure he'd be able to read right through her lies

Aaron.

Aaron tried to push things with Alison aside for the weekend, considering it was Roman's birthday. They had had the weekend alone and he just wanted to enjoy his boyfriend's birthday weekend with him. And the weekend was great. It really was. But there was so much that happened over the weekend in his messy life that he needed to tall his best friend -- he needed her to help process these things with him. Aaron blinked. He watched her make her coffee the usual way, and watched her blue eyes as she spoke. He could tell she was fucking lying. He knew her way too well not to see right through that lie. He didn't entertain it though -- he already knew that she was upset with both him and Luca and was probably fucking miserable. "Right." He made a line with his lips, and started reading over the menu. There was a moment of silence between them -- he wasn't sure where she wanted to take this meeting, but since Alison was the one who asked Aaron here, he was going to let her guide the conversation.

Alison.

Alison was sure that Aaron had a great weekend, as it had been Roman’s birthday. She had been sure to have birthday presents delivered to Romans home, on his birthday. Alison liked Roman, and she wished that Aaron liked Luca. If he had, this would have been much easier. Unfortunately though, she was stuck in the middle of two of her favorite people hating each other, and it was the worst feeling in the world. She was sure Aaron could see how exhausted she was, but she was glad he hadn’t brought it up. She brought her coffee to her lips, sipping from it and then looked at him. She had to just rip the bandaid off and talk to him. She took a deep breath, looking at Aaron, “I love you, Aaron. And I thought this was gonna be good for us—but I was wrong. It’s not good for us, I need you in my life. As more than just Des’ father.” God, she hoped she wasn’t gonna start crying during this conversation, but it was very possible, as this pregnancy had been making her very emotional.

Aaron.

He couldn’t help but to smile. Again. Hearing her say those words...He knew she was wrong too. He wasn’t going to tell her that though because that’s not what she needed to hear right now. They definitely needed each other more than they would have liked to admit. “Alison...” he began, reaching across the table to grab her hand and squeeze it tightly. “I love you too. I’m sorry i ever made you believe that we needed time apart. I was such a fucking asshole. I never should have reacted that way. I’m happy for you. This is what you wanted. And I’m here for you every step of the fucking way.” This sounded like a conversation that had 6 years ago. He hated that he had made her feeling a way that no best friend should ever make anyone feel. His smile faded a little. He was still bitter toward Luca, especially the way he had physically pushed him out of his apartment when he showed up there the other week. “And the Luca thing...I’m trying. We talked. Well. I apologized. Kind of.” He sighed. It was a start at least.

Alison.

Aaron and Alison was a pair of people who belonged together. Not romantically, but they both knew they made each other better. The truth was, Alison wasn’t sure where she would be today if Aaron wasn’t a part of her life. If Aaron has left when she was pregnant with Des, her life would be very different now she was sure of it. But the two always were each other’s biggest supporters, and now she needed his support, so when he spoke, Alison felt a wave of relief overcome her body. Alison squeezed Aaron’s hand tightly, giving him a soft smile. “Thank you, Aaron. I — I’m really going to need you.l through this. You’re my best friend, you’re the person I want to talk too about everything.” She said, though she was sure he knew that. She took a deep breath when he mentioned Luca, that was the next topic. “You apologized? What does kind of mean?” She questioned, looking across to him. “Because we have to talk about him next. About you and him, and him and I. Things are changing Aaron, and we have to talk about those things.”

Aaron.

He nodded. He had been through this with her before. It was different, of course. The baby wasn’t his...but he knew everything Alison needed when she was pregnant. Everything from the way she slept, to the food she craved, to all the doctors appointments she’d need to schedule. He knew she knew all of that too, but help couldn’t hurt. And besides, it was a learning curve. It took him months to get it down and Luca would probably need that time too. Aaron already knew. “I have so much to tell you too. But it can wait.” He took a deep breath. “I mean I told him I was sorry that I came off like an asshole and that I hated him. I don’t hate him, Ali. I know he’s had a hard life. Yeah. I wish you picked someone else. But he doesn’t seem to quite grasp the reason I’m nervous about bringing Des into his life. Not that there’s a choice now. But he told me he didn’t want me to have any part of his kid. For no good reason. He just kept saying he was protecting his family like I was mine. But — what exactly is so bad about me that his kid needs to be protected from me?” He was starting to get a little upset. “And he put his hands on me...add that to the list of reasons I don’t like this.”

Alison.

Alison could remember when she was pregnant the first time, how Aaron went out of his way to help her through it. He learned her cravings, her favorite pillow to sleep with, and she could only hope that Luca would do the same things for her during this pregnancy—but she wasn’t sure he would. She was in love with Luca, and she was sure he would be a good dad, but she was still nervous about it. How the two of them fought, how they had nearly broke up the night before, it all scared her. But she wouldn’t admit that, now now and surely not to Aaron. That would make him dislike Luca even more. Alison wondered what Aaron had to tell her, but right now wasn’t the right time to talk about what was going on in his life. “Thank you, Aaron. For apologizing to him, it really means a lot to me. And I know you two will probably never be friends, but I would like you to be civil. And I told him that too, I just want the two of you to be civil, more for the kids sake then mine.” Of course she too wanted her favorite two guys to get along, but it was obvious that probably wouldn’t happen for her sake. Alison looked at him, apologetically, “You know I would never let that happen, right? You’re gonna be cool uncle Aaron. I don’t know why he would say that, but you’re going to be part of my kids life, Aaron.” Alison was hurt that Luca would tell Aaron that. “I have to respect him, and his wishes, but unless there is a good reasoning behind keeping our baby from you — which we know there isn’t—it won’t happen.” She promised, her eyebrows raising, “What do you mean by put his hands on you?”

Aaron. 

Aaron knew that he could be a rock for Alison; someone she could always rely on. He wasn't sure Luca could be that person for Alison. "It's fine. You don't have to thank me. It was the right thing to do. I don't want him to think I'm jus' some rich asshole who hates him because of his circumstances. I'm just trying to protect you and Des." He told her. He was going to try to be civil, but he wasn't quite ready to promise anything to Alison yet. "I'll get there." He smiled at the idea of being the kid's 'uncle Aaron'. "Thank you. I like the sound of that. I knew you would never let that happen. I nearly told him that, too but I didn't want to make things worse....also I was drunk and didn't want to get into a pissing match with him." He admitted. He took a deep breath. He would never admit that he was trying to tattle on Luca, but he totally was. "Yeah, I went over there after I left the pent and had a few drinks. That's when he told me he didn't want to have any part of this kid's life and physically pushed me out of his house. Alison, what if he does that to you?" He leaned in, and raised his brow.

Alison.

Both Aaron and Alison always went over the top to protect one another. That was because for years, they were each other’s person. They were a family unit that couldn’t be broke, even if other people were now joining their family. “I know you are. You’ve always protected Des—and myself.” Alison was thankful that Aaron could say he’d get there, it was more than what Luca had said. She would hope Luca would come around to the idea of being civil with Aaron, but she wasn’t sure he would and that broke her heart. “You know I wouldn’t ever keep you from getting to know my child. But I am glad you didn’t say that, it probably would have made it worse.” Alison had started to learn that she had to choose her words wisely around Luca. It was like she had to tiptoe, which was hard for the blonde, as she was very used to speaking her mind and it was hard she couldn’t do that with her own boyfriend. Alison could feel her eyes stinging when he said Luca physically pushed him, and it was just a moment before tears spilled over Alison’s eyes, “Aaron—I am so sorry for his actions.” Alison shouldn’t have to apologize for her boyfriends actions, but she wasn’t okay with the way he acted. “I—you don’t think—he wouldn’t do that to me.”

Aaron.

Aaron nodded once. He has. He had been there for his girls for six yeas. That wasn't going to change because they were each dating someone and because Alison was about to have another baby. "I know, I'm sorry I doubted it for a second." Aaron knew she was never isolate him, never shun him from her family. He was jus worried about how much influence Luca was having over her. But Alison was strong willed and knew what she wanted. Aaron just had to remember that. He didn't mean to make Alison cry. That was actually the last thing he wanted. He remembered how emotional her first pregnancy had made her though, so he wasn't too surprised. He shook his head. "It's fine. I can handle it. I'm just scared for you and sick and tired of him treating me like the bad guy in all of this when I'm reacting like any dad would." Minus the drunken encounter with Luca and *minus *the fact that Aaron most literally ditched Alison when she needed him the most. But that was beside the point. Any parent would be weary of someone like Luca, right? "He walked out on me when we were having drinks, and when I was just trying to having a civil conversation with him." He left the part where he told him that 'dating a drug dealer could ruin Ali's career' out. "And half the time I think he's just bitter that nervous about him getting to know Des. It's petty, Alison, honestly."

Alison.

Alison knew that Aaron would take care of her until the day she died, because she would do the exact same for him.  Though things were changing, and they were changing too fast for Alison to be able to keep up with it, but there was one thing she wouldn’t allow to change, and that was her friendship with Aaron. She experienced it for a week, and she didn’t want to live a life like that. “It’s okay, I know you’re worried. But you’re Des’ dad, my best friend, and nothing would work if you weren’t involved in my child’s life.” Luca could ask her to keep the baby from Aaron, but if he didn’t have a legitimate reason behind that, Alison wouldn’t be doing that, even if it costed her relationship with Luca. Part of Alison wanted to talk about what happened the night prior with Luca, but telling Aaron any of that would make Aaron dislike Luca that much more. But, Aaron was right. Luca could be explosive when it came to a civil conversation, she had seen it herself. She sighed softly, wiping the tears from her face. “He does that. He doesn’t always want to hear the other persons side.” Alison had experienced it more than once with her boyfriend. “I know. But, I’m having a baby with him, and I — I would like him to get to know Des.”August 6, 2020

Aaron.

Aaron forced a smile. He knew this but the reassurance was nice. “Thanks, Ali. I really appreciate that honestly.” He said. Aaron knew Alison better than Luca, no matter what Luca thought. They’d always have a strong bond that no one could come between. Aaron forced an airy chuckle and reached over to wipe another tear from her cheek. Alison’s next sentence made Aaron shift in his chair and press his lips together. He shook his head. “I don’t have a choice anymore. Do I, Ali?” He wasn’t trying to sound like a dick, but he knew he was probably coming off that way. “Look...I’m not pleased with it, but his Des’ sibling’s father. He’s going to have to get to know her at some point.  Jus’...please make sure you’re around the first few times.” He begged, even though the point was mute. “I’m sorry I keep having pissing matches with him. I know that’s the last thing you want. And need. I’m just really happy that you’re back in the city. We’re never taking ‘a break’ again.” He made air quotes with his fingers. “I need you.”

Alison.

Alison didn’t feel like she really have to reassure Aaron of this. What she was saying was things she was sure Aaron had already known. “Of course.” She mentioned. Her life was a mess currently, but getting to introduce Destiny to Luca would make things a bit easier on her. Right now, she had to not make plans with her boyfriend whenever she had her daughter, but now that she was pregnant and had a million things to do to prepare for her new child’s arrival, it would make it a little easier. Well that, and the fact that her and Luca were planning to move in with one another before the baby came along. But Aaron didn’t need to know that, not right now at least. She sighed softly, “It’s not like that, Aaron. You know that, you’re both really important to me, and I want both of you to be part of both of my kids lives.” She told him. Alison of course admired how Aaron wanted to protect Destiny, but Alison was capable of making her own life choices, and her choice was being with Luca. Which meant she had every right to want to introduce her daughter to him. She cocked her head when he spoke again, “Aaron— I’m not gonna just drop our daughter off with someone who is a complete stranger to her.” She reminded him. “It is the last thing I need. What I need right now, is love and support from my favorite people.”

Aaron.

as much as Aaron hated to admit it, Luca was here to stay. He was apart of their family unit now, even if he broke up with Alison down the road. There was no way he was going to be able to avoid him. Aaron has always had a hard time swallowing his pride, and this situation was no exception. “You know I’m going to be here for both of your children. That’s Des’ sibling.” He mused, pointing to her belly. “And Des and everything in her life is the most important to me. I am going to be there for her brother or sister no matter what. And I’m going to be there for you too.” He promised. Shaking his head, he sighed. “I know. I know. I’m just nervous. That’s all.” He said, honestly. “You’ve got all my love and support. I promise.”

Alison.

Alison couldn't know what the future would look like for her. There was no way of telling that, but what she did know was that Aaron & Luca would both be part of it. She hoped they would both be part of it in a positive way, but there was no telling for sure. Either way though, they both fathered a child of hers, meaning they were there to stay. She smiled, setting one hand on her stomach lightly, "I still can't believe all of this, and that Des is going to be a sister. I don't even know how to go about telling her, Aaron." It was true, she had spent a lot of time thinking about how to tell Destiny about the baby, and when she should. She reached across once more, giving Aaron's hand a squeeze, "Thank you, Aaron."

[coridallasmultipass]

Vent / personal / tmi / menstruation / endometriosis / long post ... Im so fucking sick of healthcare professionals telling me to just wait it out and pushing my problems onto other doctors I just got my 5th shot of lupron and have 1 more next month. On my appointment last week i told the gyn how ive been having much more cramping and tissue but not blood coming out regularly and he said its possible the combined lupron and norethindrone are making my uterine lining too thin, and to stop the norethindrone (it was being prescribed to help any menopause-like side effects the lupron can have) And less than 24 hours after my first missed dose i get a full blown period complete with extreme mood swings and depression Im not bleeding this week but im still cramping and the mood swings are so fucking bad, being chronically ill and not getting enough relief from any of my medications is making all of this worse but im literally breaking down over any little thing The lupron and norethindrone combined i guess have been suppressing all my emotions bc this is what it was like on the daily before i started it (just not as bad) which is telling me that none of my psych meds are working but whatever I just now got off the phone with my psych and he said he doesnt want to do anything with my meds or dosing bc he says its related to hormones and thats what my gyn needs to address and i Need To Wait im fucking sick of waiting i cant do this ive been waiting since last august!!!!!!! I now have to wait 2 more whole months of mood swings until i can have another appointment with him hes refused to actually screen me for adhd too and says its bc im An Artist type that im not able to sit down and draw anything since last fall like i fucking hate him and he never gets my name or pronouns right and i cant go see a new psych bc of all the closures and i dont wanna call my gyn bc he said if things get worse i need to have a pelvic ultrasound done again and i cant do it!!! I fucking cant do it it hurts too much im too traumatized from depoprovera and mirena that i cant even touch myself without extreme dysphoria and fear that im going to cramp Its killing me that as someone who was so personally sexual to completely be traumatized from the road to an endometriosis diagnosis that i can no longer masturbate or even talk about sex without anxiety and being trans on top of it hurts even more Next gyn appt is my last injection of lupron and im really gonna push to plan for a partial hysterectomy (i only had endo cysts on the back of my uterus but it was 100% confirmed with surgery and biopsy) so i hope it will help so i can stop taking all these fucking hormonal medications like Before being diagnosed i was really planning on going on testosterone but now im too scared because i feel like it would really fuck up my health problems more - mentally and physically Ive given up on passing and am trying to focus on body acceptance especially now that ove had rapid weight gain that isnt being addressed by any of ky doctors i bring it up to God im just trying to vent here but seriously Do not take the diagnosis of endometriosis lightly its super serious to go forth with any treatments and you really have to commit to long term treatments and its a gamble either way For me not starting any treatments was unacceptable i needed help with extreme monthly periods and all forms of birth control ive tried exacerbated symptoms and never stopped bleeding - i literally cannot personally recommend any form of medical birth control bc every one has fucked me over, many different pills at different points in my life, shot (depoprovera gave me debilitating cramps and i bled non stop all 3 months which started this whole journey to diagnosis), iud (iud was the worst i had to go to the er bc the gyn refused to give me pain meds and i was screaming in pain a few hours later unBle to move or think - i really cannot stress enough how painful and long insertion is like it was the longest 5-10 minutes of my life crying while it felt like a knife going through me) I really dont want that ultrasound tho ffs i had to get the first one done while i was in full force cramps during my depoprovera shot and the pelvic ultrasound rod is humongous and they dig it around inside you (i already had a painful and hard time trying to have pleasurable penetration even by myself or with partners) and it takes like 40 minutes of jumbling around your insides for them to document every thing like at least at that time i was only like 2 months from my last time jerking off but now its been almost 6 months of me not even thinking about putting more than one finger in to clean myself in the shower like to go right into an huge ultrasound is going to be so painful and anxiety inducing and i cant do it id rather go straight into surgery My biggest phobias have to do with pain around this part of my anatomy i cannot stress enough how long ive wanted a hysterectomy just so i dont have to fear accidentally getting p r e g... like i would literally kms... i would probably be able to handle the pain of cutting off my arm with a rusty knife better than extreme cramping pain like i had with the iud or ultrasound its such a phobia and now its source of trauma for me from everything ive gone through the last 6 months Having to readjust my life goals from doing p o r n as a hobby and wanting to transition and be who i am, to becoming a vegetable and trying to cope with the fact that i cant ever transition how i hoped Everything just really sucks for me right now and i have literally no social life any more, not even online bc im so stressed about my health and my attention is so bad i cant focus on a convo online, my laptop is about at its grave so all i have is a phone and xbox with bare minimum internet speed.. i live in the middle of nowhere and cant get my license bc the person who was guiding me to drive is an essential worker in a hospital so i cant go in their car any more... im just so fucking alone i cant do anything except break my back gardening and then cry about it later bc my fucking meds dont fucking work!!!!!!!!! Oh thats another thing im also dealing with fucking gerd on top of all this and i cant get the proceedure i need done to confirm if i need surgery or not bc the fucking lockdown!!!! So im stuck taking pantoprazole (been trying similar meds since march 2019 and its currently june 2020!!!!!!) I just want to eat tomatoes and chocolate again it fucking kills me if i dont take pantoprazole i will lose my voice and have such a sore throat and ears from the stomach acid and i know im gonna have to stop it for 2 weeks for one of the tests i need done and its going to be literal hell like it feels worse than strep throat ill probably do the thing where i start choking and coughing at night bc it gets so bad Im a fucking mess like why couldnt all of this happen one at a time I really want to get my belly pierced again bc i feel so naked without it but i cant bc i probably will be having 2 surgeries once covid blows over (if it ever does) Sorry for taking up so much dash space im just really hurting and need some outlet bc therapy isnt helping rn

[bettsfic]

life update i guess

ultimately things are not terrible but. there’s just a lot.

i’m working too much to get anything done at my house, which means it’s just sitting there, un-lived-in, while i continue paying the mortgage. it’s not even on the market yet. i had my realtor do a walkthru and start the paperwork, but we’re still maybe weeks out from putting it on the market, and potentially months and months out from sale. the houses in my area have all taken 6+ months to sell. 

my mom wants to get back with her alcoholic husband. i can’t even begin to dip in to this situation because it is so totally fucked, but tldr i am really tired of women prioritizing the shitty men in their lives over their female family/friends. i felt bad about eventually moving to mississippi and leaving my family, but now i don’t.

and now the job. 

yesterday i worked 9am to 10pm and friday i’ll be working 7am to 5pm. the frightening thing is that this is considered the “slow time” of the year, and i’m not even fully onboarded yet, meaning my duties aren’t all implemented yet. so, first problem: the work-life balance here is not reasonable.

the second problem is the disability accommodations issue. HR will not afford me temporary accommodations (like moving cubicles, working from home, etc -- things i think are perfectly reasonable but which they will not budge on without a doctor signing off on it), and i can’t find someone to assess me until mid-july. moreover, i don’t have time to be making calls and find someone who can get me in sooner, because the job packs my calendar every minute of every day. AND the day i have my appointment scheduled is a day i have a mandatory cybersecurity training. so it might be pushed back further. there’s also a chance it’ll take multiple sessions to sign off, so i’m looking at august/september before i get any accommodations, which is the “busy” season.

the question becomes -- can i last that long without accommodations? my cubicle is in the middle of major foot traffic, with my back to the room and a fuckton of noise. i have absolutely no privacy. but mostly i’m not in the office at all, so i don’t know how big of a deal it really is. i can stand it for a few hours at a time. 

those are really the only problems. my accommodations are delayed, and i am encouraged/forced to work 45+ hours a week, and it’s making me feel like i’m handing my entire life away. like last night was the first night fireflies were out, and i wanted to stop and look at them and take pictures, but i was with a group of volunteers and had to consider propriety, and moreover had to move things along so i could go home and sleep. i haven’t had the time or energy to keep revising baby, and i’ve stopped querying agents. everything feels like it’s on hold.

as for the neutralizing stuff -- it’s summer, which for me means depression, so there’s a chance if i didn’t have this job, i would be falling into terrible habits. sleeping in until noon, eating one big meal a day, not getting dressed, only getting a couple things finished in the afternoons, spending too much time on tumblr, getting overly (unhealthily) engaged in fandom. potentially working toward another breakdown. but also, i feel like i’m working toward a different kind of breakdown with this job. and it’s possible i wouldn’t do any of these things because i’m living in a better place now. 

now for the good things!! i do get to teach with this job (but rarely). i finished up a series on health and wellness, in which i taught a group of 11 to 14 year old girls about emotional validation and teamwork. it was so much fun and i really, really loved it. unfortunately i don’t know how frequent these opportunities are. 

i also get to hang out at camp, which is fun for now but i have a feeling it’s going to get old fast. the days are long and hot and there are just so many girls. on tuesday i had a big group of 7 to 9 year olds, which i’m much less familiar with as an age group (they are too young to have seen harry potter, and too old to baby talk at, so i’m lost). friday i’m going to a residential camp and i have no idea what that will be like.

i get to work with volunteers, who are generally amazing and kind and organized, and have the best intentions at heart. these are women who (like in fandom) prioritize community and the greater good, and put love into everything they do. unfortunately, my job is basically to deal with the few bad things peppered among the good -- volunteer disputes, mom entitlement, “my daughter’s cookie reward sleeping bag is broken and i need a new one RIGHT NOW,” etc. there are two moms i know who have a restraining order on a third mom, and i’m grateful i missed that whole thing, because dealing with it would have been my responsibility.

i am constantly driving into the sticks, which would be a negative for most people but is amazing for me. the places i serve are all out in the middle of nowhere, these tiny towns with only a couple roads apiece, and take an hour or more to get to. i get great mileage reimbursement and fabulous future writing fodder. moms and kids and small town drama -- this is all the stuff i love to write, and i’m getting a lot of great aesthetic from it, but no energy to write anything that isn’t fic (which is energy-filling for me rather than draining).

and my favorite thing is that i am doing Good Things. i really love this organization and believe in it, and working here is the first time i’ve really felt like i’m making the world better instead of worse. the more i learn about it and everything it does, the more i love its structure and purpose. the people who work there are such good and kind people, and the work they all do is genuinely, unequivocally amazing. 

there is just a lot of it, and it doesn’t pay well.

no matter what, i’ll only be there a year (i’m doing a phd in mississippi but deferred my acceptance), and they don’t know that, and i feel bad for deceiving them. i feel bad for joining these volunteer communities with the assumption i’ll be around a while and make friends. and as much as i need the health insurance, it’ll take a long time to find doctors and get appointments for all the specialists i need, and then i’ll be moving out of the state and having to find new doctors anyway.

so my options are thus:

stick with the job for a year

pros: no stress about paying mortgage while house is on the market, ability to buy stuff i need and pay off my car, save up for big move, structure/keeping busy over summer when i’m normally really depressed, ability to do meaningful work i believe in, really good health insurance

cons: no time/energy to write, guilt over deception of coworkers and volunteers, a potentially unmanageable amount of stress, poor work/life balance, not a lot of teaching

resign and return to alma mater to teach comp next semester

pros: summer off to work on my house/writing/freelance work, don’t dread waking up every day, may potentially be able to move to mississippi in winter and start the phd spring semester

cons: no income over summer, no health insurance for the rest of the year (and will have to re-apply for medicaid), lack of structure may make me more depressed, i hate teaching comp (and i would have 3 sections of it, god help me -- but at least i’d be teaching)

this is the pickle i am in. i know this is a lot to read but mostly i wrote it for myself, to see it all written out. half of me thinks it’ll get better and right now i’m only intimidated by the workload because i don’t have an expertise in the job yet, and once i do, it’ll be a breeze, or at least more good days than bad ones. this is also the part of me that wants a backup plan post-phd in case i can’t do academia anymore and my writing career tanks. the other part of me is like, this is useless, you’re a writer and a teacher, why are you bothering doing anything that’s not writing or teaching? and that is also the part of me that’s like, lol you are not a neurotypical person, you are always going to struggle in these types of environments, and you have an environment available to you in which you do not struggle, so go for that instead (even if the pay is shitty and has no benefits). 

i just don’t know.

[71tenseventeen]

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too)-6

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4, Pt 5 Warnings for sexual content, male pregnancy, non-hockey Sid. Sid and Taylor’s ages have been altered to fit the story. 

Perpetual credit to my betas, @queen-alia and @icosahedonist as well as the GC and @ljummen.

August

Sidney has a plan.

He’s no fool; he knows that nothing about having a baby will be easy. But having a plan has always made him feel more in control over other situations in his life and this is no exception.

His plan mostly revolves around cutting costs, working more and saving as much as possible but it gives him something to focus on other than the panic that’s been hitting him in waves.

So he tries to throw himself into work. It’s not the same work he expected to be doing; bartending is pretty much out now. He’s way too tired and nauseated for late nights in the bar. It’s hard to get tutoring jobs in the summer so he takes a job at a coffee shop near his apartment that seems willing to give him a lot of shifts.

What never factored into his plan was that his nausea would get worse.

It gets so bad that he gets sent home from work twice in a week so Sid scrambles to find a doctor that accepts his student insurance. He takes the first appointment available only to be told that there isn’t much he can do about it except try to take it easy and work less hours. That’s just not an option but Sid thanks the doctor and takes the sheet of advice for minimizing nausea. He’s tried all of it already.

He does his best to cope and works as much as he can and apologizes profusely every time he gets too sick to do his job. If he can just make it through the summer, he can get back to tutoring. He’s never been more grateful for the Kunitzes. He might be cobbling along now but he knows when he gets back to tutoring them he can cut way back on this job, maybe even quit altogether.

He gets the news in early August.

Maureen calls; she wants Sid to hear it from them first—Chris signed with Tampa.

Sid is sick when he hangs up the phone. He has no idea what he’s going to do now.

--

Maureen and Chris invite him over in the middle of August. They want him to spend some time with and say goodbye to the kids.

Sid’s nervous. Besides the stress of worrying about work and money, he’s got to try to hide the fact that he’s pregnant and endlessly nauseated.

There are a few other people there when Sid arrives—he expected that. It’s mostly neighbors and close friends of the family, stopping by to wish them farewell.

Sid spends a lot of time with the kids. He figures they’ll want to play shinny and he isn’t wrong.  He tries hard not to think about how much he’s going to miss them (and not just because of the money) and focuses on soaking up time with them instead.

As expected, there’s a spread of amazing food—enough that he can eat very carefully without anyone really noticing everything he’s avoiding. All in all, it’s going as well as can be expected.

Sid’s hand is halfway to a platter of mozzarella sticks that he’s been picking from for the last hour when he hears a deep, familiar voice. “Kuni! Food better be good, I come all way from Russia!”

Sid freezes, eyes going wide and before he can even think about covering his expression, Maureen tuts at him. “Oh come on. You have nothing to be nervous about. You met Geno at the Cup party, right?”

Sid pulls his hand back and clears his throat. “Um, briefly. Yeah.” If only she knew the half of it.

Maureen smiles. “See, it’ll be fine. And Sidney, just take a handful of mozzarella sticks and stop sneaking one every five minutes. I promise no one will judge you.”

Sid takes a deep breath and reaches for a plate. So Geno is here. He should be relieved, it solves the problem of how he’ll track him down. Maybe Sid wasn’t ready for this now but it’s an opportunity he can’t afford to miss so he tries to shore himself up internally as he fills his plate with sticks and sauce.

You can do this, he tells himself and he knows he can. He’s ready.

Until Geno comes striding into the kitchen with a wide grin on his face as he greets Kuni and Sid panics.

Fuck, he thinks. What am I doing? How am I supposed to tell this man he’s having a child? What if he doesn’t want to be involved? What if he doesn’t believe me? What if—

Sid can’t do this right now. He just can’t. He’s reaching for his plate when Geno stops and cocks his head to the side a little. Recognition dawns on his face and Sid suddenly doesn’t want to know what happens next. He grabs the plate and ducks out the side door heading off to hide amongst the kids.

He spends the next half an hour avoiding Geno but it’s not easy. It seems like no matter where he ends up, Geno ends up there minutes later and Sid ducks out again until Geno finally corners him outside. Sid is edging his way further from a group of adults watching the kids play in sprinklers and wondering if he should just leave when a big hand taps him. “Sid?”

Sid turns and fakes a smile. “Geno! Wow, hey! When did you get here?”

Geno frowns. “You see me when I’m come into kitchen. Been avoiding me since then.”

“I…” And Sid just doesn’t have any energy left to lie. He sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry about that.”

“Sid, not have to avoid me if you not interested in hook up again. Can say that and I’m not be mad.”

“Oh. It’s not… I mean I’m not…” He sighs again. “I tried to call you.”

Geno looks confused and reaches for his phone. “You call me?”

“Not today. Um, last month.”

“Oh. I’m in Russia last month. Have to switch card when overseas.”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on Sid and, with it, a small rush of relief. At least he knows Geno didn’t block him or something.

“Sorry I miss call.” And he looks like he means it. “You need something? Or just forget I’m in Russia?”

“No, I didn’t forget, I…” Sid takes a deep breath. He should probably set up another time to talk. He can’t just say it here, right? “I’m pregnant.”

Or maybe he can.

“Oh god, I didn’t mean to just… Geno I’m sorry. I just thought you should know.”

Geno is standing frozen in front of him, speechless. Shit.

“It was a big shock to me too. But you don’t… I mean I’m not asking you for anything. I just thought you should know.” Sid looks down. The longer Geno is quiet, the more uneasy he gets.

“Is mine?” he finally croaks and Sid nods.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “It’s yours. I—I’m sorry.”

Geno lets out a huge breath and turns, running his fingers through his hair. Then he does it again and looks at the sky before looking back down. “You sure?”

“Yeah, of course.” Sid furrows his brow. “I’ve already been to the doctor.”

“I mean, you sure is mine?” Geno isn’t looking at him when he says it and Sid’s heart sinks.

“Yes, I’m sure it’s yours but you know what? Like I said, I’m not asking you for anything,” He bites out with a glare. “I’ve got this. No one needs to know and I don’t need any help. Anyhow, now you know so… I need to go.” Sid turns and starts to walk away, trying to ignore the unexpected stinging in his eyes as he does.

He doesn’t look back and does his best to avoid people. He’ll call Maureen and apologize tomorrow; he’s sure he can think of an excuse. Right now he just needs to get out of here.

He holds it together right up until he tries to start his car and it just makes a grinding sound instead of starting.

Sid sits back, wide-eyed. This can’t be happening now, it just can’t. He knows it’s been making some noise but nothing like this and—He forces himself to take a breath and try again but it still doesn’t start.

“Oh no. No no no!”

Sid tries twice more, getting more desperate by the second but nothing changes. Except maybe the grinding sound which seems to get worse.

And that’s when he falls apart.

Whatever this is, he knows it’s going to be expensive and he can’t afford it. It’s just another thing to stress about, and a big one at that. He already can’t afford a decent car or simple repairs.  He’s lost his main tutoring job and knows he can’t get another making the same kind of money. Now he’s going to be making less money and he’s having a baby. And it looks like he’s going to be doing it alone and he always knew that was a possibility but now it’s a reality that’s crashing down on him.

Sid buries his face in his hands and cries.

Part 7

[bbhyuckie]

Crossed Wires - 1

The Doyoung office fic nobody asked for.

Genre: Slowburn office romance.

Words: 5.5k

Warnings: Exposition.

When you were younger, you never really envisioned yourself working in an office. Like all the other kids, you wanted to be an astronaut, or a doctor, or an actor. You suppose, no one ever really dreamt of working in an office, but there you were. A twenty-something in a corporate building, working a solid nine-to-five.

As far as office work goes, you actually had it really, really good. You had applied to SM right out of highschool with very minimal background experience. Honestly, you hadn’t really expected anything from putting in your resume, but by the grace of god, you landed the summer secretary position. The job was easy enough to do and complex enough to keep you focused for an eight hour work day. When August rolled around and you were called back to your manager's office, you were sure that it was the end of the line for you; end of summer, end of job. But to your surprise, you were offered a job outside of the lobby and into the office blocks.

Which is how you ended up here: the marketing department. The sudden shift away from greeting guests at the front desk and setting up appointments for people on the way out was jarring. Work suddenly had weight to it. If it hadn’t been for the considerable upgrade in your check every month, you probably would have lost your mind. Marketing wasn’t necessarily hard . It was just a lot more than what you were used to. Micro to macro, so to speak. The job outline wasn’t single people anymore. You were connecting with hundreds of thousands of people behind the guise of company-community involvement, media planning, and advertisement. Luckily, you didn’t have to do it alone.

Your immediate team consisted of three charismatic young men that fit the forward thinking, strikingly attractive, deceptively smart and strategic outline your department demanded. It was hard to picture yourself fitting in with them most of the time, but from your first day forward they all welcomed you in like you had been there since the  dawn of time. It seemed the thoughts of not quite being up to par during brainstorming sessions, and feeling slightly out of place when someone walked in to your department passed with time.

The eldest in your team was named Chittaphon, but the other boys called him Ten because of [insert inside office joke that you weren’t there to learn here]. He was eccentric and stellar at his job. Since he worked there the longest, he helped you through your marketing training and made you nifty little cheat sheets with frequent call numbers and contact names. You got close with Ten first because of how closely you worked in your training period, and he was a gateway to the other two boys in your department. He was always either complimenting your work attire or praising your work ethic.

After finally being released from training, you got your own desk right next to the second oldest member of your department. Jaehyun was a great desk neighbor, all things considered. Sure, he had a stressfully cluttered desk and never put his phone on silent, but somehow he still got all of his work done and even managed to help you with yours. Jae was so handsome that it was hard not to fall head over heels for him. And maybe, you would have if it wasn’t for the fact that you had seen how he danced while he was heavily intoxicated at a department night out… It was an ugly sight. So instead, you settled for going to company dinners together and ultimately you became Jaehyun’s wingwoman.

The last member of your team was Mark, who seemed to be perpetually waiting for everyone else to catch up. He was a touch younger than you, but the two of you got along pretty well. That is, after the two of you started speaking. For how quirky and talkative he was with the other two boys, he seemed to keep his guard up around you for the first few months. Jae teased that it was because Mark had never had to talk to girls before and he didn’t know how, to which Ten scoffed and Mark slumped further down in to his chair. You and Mark finally hit it off when Jaehyun had called out sick. Without your trusty companion to ask for help, you decided to take the leap and roll your chair over to Mark’s desk. At first, he was surprised that you would even consider coming to him for help, considering Ten was in the same room as the two of you.

To say that Mark was nervous, was an astounding understatement. His hands were shaky and cautious as he reached for the stapler on the other side of the desk. However, after a few cheesy jokes on your behalf Mark was absolutely smitten with you in the most platonic sense of the word. Soon he was showing up to work with two coffees instead of one, and the middle drawer of his desk was filled with snacks just for you.

The days of learning simmered out into days of keeping your eyes open, and the longer you were there, the more second nature your position became. Nothing ever became particularly mundane, but with four of you in the office there was a lot of time to just… talk. About stupid things. Or funny things. Or kind of secret things-- like the fact that Ten was dating your department manager, and no one knew somehow. Or how Mark almost strangled the new secretary last week, because, who the fuck would hire Donghyuck oh my god . Or how Jaehyun needed you to be his fake girlfriend at the next wedding in his family. Again.

You had to pay your downtime to those in logistics. Realistically, if the logistics department didn’t exist, you probably would have quit a long time ago. Connecting with so many people called for a lot of… calls. That you didn’t necessarily want to, or know how to, make. If someone asked you who you respected, hands down you would have said your agent from logistics, Yuta.

Yuta was a great partner to work with. Typically he opened the phone calls with a warm greeting before filling you in on the latest plots of this new anime he had recently started. He then transitioned into how cute Manager Sicheng had been looking lately, and more often than not you had to remind him that the purpose of the call was to relay information. He was the person who had gotten you into watching cheesy anime and he was your go to gossip partner whenever Ten was busy with “lunch dates.”

He was the one who always had jokes to tell or advice to give, and although your departments were on opposite sides of the same floor, his friendship felt real and close. These were likely the reasons it absolutely broke your heart when Yuta informed you that a transfer hire would be taking over his spot as your go to logistics man.

“Yuta, you’ve told me a lot of stupid shit these past few months but thinking I’m going to just let a transfer hire take your place is by far the stupidest.”

“Calm down, sunshine, I won’t forget about you. I’ve just been having to juggle yours and Jaehyun’s sorry asses for the past few months. Trust me-- if I got to pick, I would take you over him in a heartbeat,” Yuta replied, clearly unbothered by the whole situation.

You huffed halfheartedly and slumped in your chair, “This sucks.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t cry about losing Yuta as your logistics man in the break room later on that afternoon. Mark eventually finds you with your legs huddled close to your chest as you let out quiet, pathetic sniffles. He handed you a box of tissues that had been placed on the counter, almost as if it had been left there for this exact purpose.

“I heard about the whole Yuta thing, and I kinda figured you’d be in here crying.” His voice is soft and comforting, but you’re also partially offended he assumed you would be crying in this situation.

“And how did you know that?” You quip back bitterly, and Mark chuckles at your childish antics.

“You cried for two hours when Yuta told you how Monsters Inc. ended.” Although it was meant as a lighthearted joke, a fresh wave of tears hits you and you’re crying even more now. Because god dammit now you had to think about how Boo lost Sulley on top of you losing Yuta.

Mark’s eyes are wide, like a deer in headlights. “Jaehyun! Call Yuta’s dumb ass, like, right now!”

After teasing Mark for freaking out, Jaehyun obediently dialed Yuta’s number and called him to the break room. Admittedly, crying about losing Yuta was a tad bit melodramatic. However, you felt a wave of dread wash over you at the mere thought of your friendship slowly dying off because you wouldn’t be talking half as much as you used to.

Nonetheless, your band of misfits had decided that the best way to deal with the situation at hand was to get shitfaced. After all, friends that make regrettable decisions while intoxicated together stay together, right?

For the duration of your appetizers, Yuta had been trying to get you to fess up about why you were crying about the situation. In his defense, Yuta couldn’t really understand why you had been so upset. The way he saw it, your friendship didn’t need office calls to last.

“I guess I’m just afraid that with the new transfer hire, we won’t talk anymore.” You finally confess, teary eyed. Yuta swears he tried to hold in his fit of giggles, but it was just too hard.

Laughing, he pulls you into a tight side hug and ruffles your hair with his hands. “You dumbass! You think I won’t be texting you every five minutes about what happened in my show? Working a nine to five job really has rotted your brain.”

His eyes are bright and cheery as he continues to comfort you, promising every so often that he’ll visit your apartment and watch anime with you to compensate for the lack of business calls.

Now that the mood had brightened considerably, you were able to pay attention to Mark, who was trying to prove his manliness by downing shot after shot while Jaehyun couldn’t stop teasing him for freaking out over tears. As you shifted your eyes over to them, your heart swelled with warmth. Your office friends had become like a second family to you. And you wouldn’t dare change it for the world. Resentment sank slowly into the pit of your stomach, however; not towards any of this newfound love for this gang of corporate slaves, but rather for the transfer that was seemingly trying to ruin all of it. The realization of this sudden blind hatred made you feel well and truly immature, more so than crying in the break room at work (which is a hard thing to top). You shrugged it off and ordered another round of drinks.

The next day came quickly and angrily. You blinked your eyes against the offending light that had woken you and groaned. This was a feeling you had grown to know well. A hangover.

You yanked your blanket back over your head. After blindly fumbling around for your phone on your bedside table, you managed to type in the number to your department managers office. You inhaled deeply and pressed the overly bright green button. The ringback was deafening, until finally--

“Advertising and Marketing, this is Johnny Seo,” his voice cut through the receiver like a knife. It was hard not to wince.

“Johnny,” you said, voice untested and rough, “It’s me. I can't come in today.”

You swore you heard him chuckle on the other end, knowingly. You couldn’t find the humor in this situation.

“Sure thing, want to use PTO? Or accept the consequences of a bad hangover?” he asked.

You rubbed the palm of your hand over your face, “Y’know, I’m gonna leave that up to your discretion.”

“Understood, I’ll see you nice and sober tomorrow morning.”

Begrudgingly, you slid out of bed and pressed your feet against the floor. The cool tile was grounding. You decided today was the day you would catch up on the anime Yuta had sent you, get your laundry done, and catch up on your sleep. With a newfound purpose, you trudged into the kitchen of your apartment and started a pot of coffee, before deciding, yeah, you did need to wash your hair.

Before you knew it, your impromptu day off was coming to a close. You were clean, caught up on laundry and anime, and more broke than that morning. Online shopping really was a trap. With a full wasted day under your belt, you fell back into bed and turned the lights off.

As you laid there, waiting to fall asleep, your mind wandered idly to what happened at work while you were away. You were almost positive Mark called out too. If anyone was more of a certified lightweight than you, it was him. Jaehyun probably had a wonderful day, you thought, with Yuta all to himself. You found yourself then wondering about this nameless company transfer. Would he be nice? Would he get your jokes? Would he have an annoying voice? Would he know how to do his job? Stress prickled in your chest and you took a deep breath to choke it down. You could deal with that tomorrow.

Feeling as refreshed as you possibly could after dealing with such a horrendous hangover, you pushed yourself to get ready for the day. Your heart was pounding at an alarming rate when you realized it was time for you to leave for work. You had even considered calling in again and telling Johnny that maybe you weren’t hungover, maybe it was alcohol poisoning or maybe you were on the brink of death.

But you knew Johnny would tear you to pieces if you called in with such a lame and poorly thought out excuse. So instead, you begrudgingly grabbed your work bag and headed out the front door.

On your way in to the office, you caught Mark at the front door. He was, unsurprisingly, harassing the secretary. Donghyuck looked positively pleased with himself as he swiveled on his rolly chair, an angry Mark saying something about eating the rest of the leftovers.

“Oh, Mark,” you said, throwing an arm around the boys shoulders. His tray of coffee for your department teetered dangerously in his hands. “Leave the poor boy alone, I wouldn’t want to have to call HR on you.”

Mark shot you a look as he steadied the coffee in his hand, opening his mouth to say something. He was cut off by Donghyuck.

“Thank you! I’m just here, trying to do my humble job, and I’m being brutalised by this man! ” Hyuck clasped a hand over his heart and puffed out his lower lip.

“By god Mark, stop making a scene, let’s go,” you faked chastised as you pulled him down the hall towards your offices.

“Har har,” Mark made a poor attempt at fake laughing and shoved a coffee in your direction, “Very funny. G’morning to you too.”

You bumped your head against his shoulder in apology as you walked side by side, “Sorry, Marky-baby,” you saw him flush at the name, “You know I’m just teasing.”

Mark visibly relaxed and his stern look softened, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“So how was yesterday?” You poked your straw into the top of your iced coffee.

“I was about to ask you the same, but I take it you called out, too.” You smiled up at him sheepishly. He knocked shoulders with you and you both giggled at your notably low alcohol tolerance.

“I was hoping to get some intel on my new guy,” you paused for a second and sighed, “I would like to reiterate the fact that this… sucks.”

“Oh, c’mon. It can’t be that bad.”

You tried not to bristle at the dismissal, “That’s awfully easy for you to say, not having to get used to someone other than Taeyong, and all.”

“That’s-- That’s not what I meant. Just give him a chance, I guess.” You rolled your eyes at his comment before shooting him a devious smirk.

“Maybe you should give Hyuck a chance.” You were answered with an elbow in the ribs.

You pushed the door to your department open and held it for Mark before you walked your opposite directions to your desks.  As you sat down next to Jaehyun, you rolled your chair suspiciously closer to the side of your desk furthest away from him. Jae immediately noticed and shot you a look somewhere between confused and wounded.

Ten piped up from behind you both, “Uh oh. Mommy and daddy are fighting again.”

“Who’s who?” Mark asked with a snicker.

“Are you actually upset with me over this?” Jae asked quietly, disregarding the other two.

You glanced over to him and immediately felt bad. “No,” you said apologetically, “I’m not mad. Really, Jae. This is just weird, and I don’t want to talk to the new guy.”

Jaehyun’s brow squished together in the middle, clearly confused. “But he’s so nice?”

“Oh yeah,” Ten swiveled around in his chair, “He came in and introduced himself yesterday, wanted to get to meet who he was gonna be running logistics for before he got locked upstairs.” Ten paused and smirked wickedly, “Probably not the best first impression.”

You groaned helplessly and melted into the leather of your chair. A wave of humility washed over you in thinking that, shit, he was probably nervous too. You had all of your friends around to support you and only one part of your daily routine was changing, but this guy was coming from out of the city and didn’t know anyone . Jae looked at you pitifully, which arguably made the whole situation worse.

“Don’t worry about it. He seemed genuinely nice, if not just a little quiet. I’m sure he understood.”

“Jae, stop,” you whined, “That definitely makes this worse!”

You looked around to see three sets of eyes on you with varying expressions. Ten looked unimpressed, Mark looked confused, and Jae maintained an unwavering look of pity.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Ten said slowly, “I’m going to need you to get this--” he gestured vaguely at your current state, “--figured out. It is far too early in the morning for a mental collapse. And while I would love to watch this unfold, we unfortunately do not get paid for that.”

Ten turned his chair back to his desk with an air of finality.

With a huff, you heaved yourself back up into a proper sitting position. You organized your papers that you had left on your desk from the prior work day and tapped them into line with each other. You smoothed them against the faux wood of your desk with a hand and took a breath to calm yourself. Jae’s hand found itself over top of yours. He caught your eye before he smiled reassuringly, and squeezed your hand before letting go.

You stalled for as long as you could with paperwork from the day you missed, but damn it, you were a touch too good at your job and finished everything you could do by yourself within the morning. You took lunch with Mark and watched vine compilations together in the break room. As your half hour of freedom drew to a close, you came to terms with the fact that you had to swallow your pride and call down to logistics.

You cozied back into your office chair and tucked your feet underneath you. There was no more procrastinating to be done. You fiddled with a ring on one of your fingers before finally biting the bullet and dialing in the extension to logistics.

The line rang three times, and with every buzz of the callback, you felt your stomach do a flip. Equal parts of you wanted the ringing to end and go on forever all at the same time.

“Logistics, this is Doyoung,” a clear voice broke through the line.

“I--,” you started before your brain could keep up, “Sorry, what was it again?” You smushed your palm against your forehead, because you idiot , you heard exactly what he said! “Can you spell that for me, I mean?”

“Uh-- Ah, yeah, it’s D-O-Y-O-U-N-G. From, uh. From logistics.”

“Right, Doyoung” you repeated, scribbling down his name on a sticky note before peeling it off the pad and pressing it onto the receiver of your phone. “I’m Y/N. From marketing. But I’m sure you already knew that.”

Doyoung mumbled a non committal noise on the other end of the line, “What can I do for you?”

You closed your eyes and breathed in through your nose, “I was wondering if I could get some documents faxed over from accounting, actually. Uh, stocks, to be specific. For our upcoming ad campaign, I need to see affiliate ownership growth between January of this year and now. Yuta has been keeping a file for the dates that we’ve been doing growth research on and--”

“Yeah, I’ve got the folder. I’ll send the forms down. Anything else?”

“Um,” you said, taken slightly aback by Doyoung cutting into you speaking, “No, that’s it I think. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The line went dead.

Slowly you put the phone back on the receiver. A series of emotions flashed through your head.  You took a moment to try and process exactly what went down but also if you didn’t swallow the lump that was beginning to form in your throat you were afraid you’d start crying again. You were a grown woman and knew how to keep your emotions under control, but the amount of frustration that washed over you was infuriating. You mentally kicked yourself for even trying to  be nice to this guy when he was going to treat you like an inconvenience. This was his job! He was, quite literally, paid to help you!

As you were finally getting your breathing back under control, a knock came from the glass door. You glanced over your shoulder to see one of the interns smiling at you. You pulled a smile on and waved at him. His smile only widened and he waved frantically, calling you out into the hall. You suppress the urge to complain solely because this was your favorite intern.

“Na Jaemin,” you smiled, closing the glass door to your department behind you.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite marketing expert,” the younger boy winked at you.

“Flattery,” you said as you pulled his glasses off the bridge of his nose to clean them. He had a bad habit of staring through smudge marks that didn’t seem to bother him, but drove you insane.

“Maybe,” he smiled, rubbing over where the feet of his glasses were previously sat on his nose, “But only because you deserve it.”

You smiled at that, and it wasn’t forced. You remembered why he was your favorite.

“What can I do for you, kid?” you slid his glasses back onto his face.

“More of what I--” he waved a manilla folder in front of you, “--can do for you.”

You laughed at that, because, “Please don’t ever do that again.”

He laughed with you before finally handing you the file. You both stood there for a moment before he asked, “So do you like the new guy you’re working with? I just picked these up from him and he seemed pretty nice, I think.”

Right. The new guy. Doyoung.

“Jesus, the other Jae told me he’s great too, but the only conversation I’ve had with him was short and decidedly unpleasant.”

Jaemin exhaled pointedly and looked at you with sympathy. “That sucks. I won’t bring him up then.”

“No, it’s okay. I just have to get over it.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Jaemin leaned forward like he was letting you in on a secret, “I have to deal with the rest of the interns.”

You found yourself smiling again, despite yourself. Somehow, this high school intern had a way of leaving you in a better mood than he found you. “God help you,” you chuckled.

You and Jaemin parted ways shortly thereafter. You slipped back into marketing and to your desk. You took a moment to get situated and take a sip of your then watery coffee. Eventually, you convinced yourself to open your files back up on your computer and get the numbers put together. You flipped the front of the manila folder over and were met first with a jumble of numbers on the right side of the folder. On the left side was something you weren’t expecting. A small note on nice paper, taped parallel with the top of the folder. The handwriting was reminiscent of a font, in neat, narrow letters.

Y/N,

Sorry for rushing off of the phone earlier.

Management called on the other line. I hope

you understand. If you need anything, feel more

than welcome to call me. You have my number

and I work the same hours that you do.

-DY

You read over the note a few times before it finally sank in what it was saying. A pang of guilt thumped you in the chest as you traced your fingertip over the note again. Maybe you were too quick to judge on him, you thought to yourself. You tried not to slump in your chair.

You tore your brain away from being an overly-sensitive, hyper-judgemental individual long enough to put a decent dent on your ownership trend report. The numbers were cleaner than you remember them being organized before, and the spreadsheets had rows in alternating colors that made it easier on the eyes. You noticed somewhere along your productivity streak that there were now tabs separating affiliate from corporate ownership, and there were certain forms that you hadn’t requested but had helped your report.

By the time five rolled around, you felt like you had gotten an unusually large amount of work done despite bitching and moaning the entire morning. Only as Mark tapped on your shoulder with his backpack slung over his back did you realise it was already time to go home. Your face flushed at the uncharacteristic loss of time; you were typically the one counting down the minutes until the day was over.

As you walked out of the office with Mark, you came to two conclusions: the first was that this was one of the most emotionally confusing days of your life, and the second was that Doyoung must have been a robot. Everything he did seemed so critically calculated and practiced. You didn’t want to say that he was better than Yuta, but after going through the revised file he sent you… he was definitely more efficient. Even as you waved goodbye to Mark in the parking garage, you were stuck on your new partner.

By the time you got home and collapsed onto the couch with a box of takeout, you were finally not thinking exclusively of Doyoung. You managed to watch a few episodes of yours and Yuta’s anime, take a shower, and fold an entire load of laundry before crawling up into bed. You pulled the duvet up to your chin. You clicked open your phone to find a clean screen and let out a breath of relief. Sometimes, silence after a long day like the one you had was welcome. You watched the drizzle of rain start to come down outside your window and pulled your blankets up tighter. As the chill of early fall crept into the glass of your window, your mind crept into sleep.

Over the next few weeks, you found that Doyoung was not, in fact, a robot. Shockingly, he was just really good at his job.

Calls with Doyoung became significantly less stressful as time went on, but it was nothing like what you and Yuta had before. Despite being considerably more productive and organized, the phone calls weren’t as memorable. Doyoung seemed to have a strictly business sort of take on things, but he was human.

His humanity came through subtly. It started with you sending Jaemin up to logistics with the completed ownership trend report in a new manilla folder. You decided, after a bit too much thought, that you would attach a note of your own for Doyoung. Peacemaking, your brain supplied.

doyoung,

thanks for the files! no hard feelings.

if you could organize everything like

you did with those documents, my life

would be considerably easier. thanks

a million!

-Y/N

You looked down at your note, on your cheap sticky note with your far from perfect handwriting and wondered if you should just send the file by itself. You shook your head and pressed the piece of paper on the folder before closing it with a decisive snap.

Later that day, you called up to logistics to check on the file you sent.

“Logistics, this is Doyoung,” you swore his voice could be on a recorded line from how similar to the previous day that sounded.

“Hey Doyoung, I just wanted to make sure you got the report I sent up earlier.”

“Oh--,” There was a muffled rustling sound, like he was sorting through papers, “Yeah. Yeah I did.”

“Okay! Just let me know if my numbers don’t check out or something, yeah?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line followed by a slight huff that loosely resembled a laugh, “Yeah, of course.”

After you thanked him and hung up the phone, you wondered if he thought your note was amusing or if the two events were completely isolated. The socialite portion of your personality hoped it was because of you, but the realistic portion of you recognized it could have been because of anything. Hell, it could have not been a laugh at all.

About five minutes later, your email pinged with a new message in the inbox. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion; most people didn’t email you directly unless you messaged them first. You pulled up the portal and saw one (1) new email from a Kim Doyoung. A tiny paperclip icon next to the email envelope told you that there was something attached to the message. You opened the attachment to find a spreadsheet with clean lines and alternating color blocks. The font was simplistic and streamline, and despite it just being a spreadsheet, it brought a smile to your face. This felt like the first step towards something manageable.

In the following days and documents, the two of you kept phone calls short, but often left notes in files that were dropped off to each other. Doyoungs’ were always short and concise, written with a painfully steady hand on paper that was too nice to justify writing a note on. Yours, on the other hand, were on various pieces of parchment you found in your department, handwriting fluctuating with how busy the office was. There was a consistency in the pattern the two of you had that you could almost appreciate; the two of you were hardly acquaintances, even farther from friends, but the routine gave you a new normal.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

[amaranthinesiren-blog]

I have had irregular periods all my life. I've also been overweight all my life, so most doctors have hand waved it away as that. I'd go months without having one, and then have ones with only a few days clear between. Never normal, never reliable.

Then in about.. 2003-4 or so? I started bleeding. A lot. Heavily. And it didn't stop after 5 days. Or 7. Or a month. Or two months. It just kept going.

I was scared. I had no one to talk to about it. I had no idea what was happening. My husband would ask me for sex and I had to keep telling him no, because I was bleeding. "Still? Again?" Yes. (Eventually he stopped asking altogether. But that's another story.)

I didn't keep track of how long it went on. It was a long time. For the majority of a year or more at least, with only sporadic breaks between. It made going to work SO uncomfortable, because if I sat for any period of time, and then stood up, it felt like the floodgates had opened and I had to race to the bathroom, or risk destroying my clothes. (Happened quite a few times.)

Then it stopped. And I didn't have a period for over a year. I was too glad to be worried about that either. I think I did go to an obgyn during that time, once when my husband and I thought we might want to try to have kids. They did an ultrasound, found nothing wrong. Said that they'd want to put me on birth control first to regulate my cycles before I could try to get pregnant - but at the time I was also having migraines, so they never did that. And then I got fired from my job so that kind of ended things for a while.

It started again in 2011 at some point. I know this because when we went to DragonCon for the first time, we arrived at our hotel after a long drive, and when I stood up to get out of the car, I could feel that feeling, that my pants were about to be ruined. There was someone using the bathroom in the lobby, so I had to just stand there, legs clenched together, and wait. Once I finally got in, my shorts and underwear were ruined. I had to crack the door open and ask my husband to bring me the suitcase so I could change clothes and throw away the shorts and underwear. They weren't salvageable.

The entire time we were at DragonCon, every panel we went to, as soon as it was over, I'd stand up and have to race to the nearest bathroom, hoping to make it there before the pad I was wearing overflowed.

This continued on and off until 2013. In 2013, I started having spells where I felt narcoleptic. Usually in the morning, around 8-9am. I'd be at my desk, unable to keep my eyes open, slapping my face to stay awake. No amount of food or caffeine for breakfast made a difference. Sometimes it would happen when I was on the highway driving to work, and I'd have my windows down in the dead of winter, slapping my face trying not to lose consciousness behind the wheel. I was fucking terrified. And I was bleeding again.

So I finally made an appointment to see my obgyn. I explained everything that was happening, and that I'd been bleeding for months essentially nonstop. They did a blood test and found that I was anemic from bleeding so much for so long. They had me start taking iron pills, and also gave me a birth control implant to try to regulate my cycle. (At this point, my husband and I hadn't had sex in so long, I couldn't remember how long it had been. He still had the nerve to be angry about me going on birth control. Because what if we wanted to have kids? I couldn't find the words to explain that it wasn't going to happen anyway, and that I needed to fix what was wrong with me.)

The implant did not stop my period entirely (as they'd told me it does for some women), but it DID finally get me on a somewhat normal cycle. But now I have horrible cramps pre-menstrally which I never had before in my life. And it took a couple months of feeling like I was legitimately having a nervous breakdown, while my body got used to finally having the "correct" amount of hormones.

Fast forward to 2018. I had my implant replaced last year. My cycle has been as regular as it has been since I've had the implant. My husband and I have had sex only twice in the last decade or more, and both times it was down to my explaining that I still want sex, I need it, and him getting frustrated and finally going down on me or fingering me or whatever. Not actual intercourse. And not exactly satisfying for either of us. He's only doing it so I stop crying (literally) about it, and it *really* does not make me feel attractive or sexy to have to *cajole* my fucking partner of 20+ years into deigning to give me an orgasm.

But I digress. My only sexual satisfaction is masturbation. Which is fine. I miss sex, a LOT, but as long as I can get off somehow, I won't go crazy.

And then in August, I started to have a sharp cramping pain when I would orgasm. Right at the moment my muscles inside clench up, it feels like a cramp, and I can't go on. And the dull ache of it lingers, sometimes for 24 hours or more afterward. I tried it half a dozen times over a week or so, with and without insertion, and the same result each time.

And then I got my period, and it was 7 days of heavy flow, passing clots, just gushing.

So I finally got up the nerve to call my obgyn, and explain what was wrong. They made me an appointment, said maybe they'd need an ultrasound. I went in and the doctor who saw me (not my regular doctor, short notice and all) said she felt nothing irregular. Asked if I was sexually active. I said no. She asked what I meant. I said "my husband and I haven't had sex in over a decade." She asked if I was having sex with anyone else. I said no. "Well then how are you achieving orgasm?" "Umm, masturbation?"

She then went on to suggest perhaps I could see a physical therapist to help with the pain. Intimated that it might be something mental. Told me that I should try taking 600mg of ibuprofen an hour before sexual activity to see if it would help. I numbly listened to it all, and insisted that I wanted an ultrasound ASAP.

I had one the next day (last Tuesday). Waited a week. Meanwhile after 4 days of not bleeding, I bled again all this weekend. Clots. Heavy.

I called yesterday to ask about the ultrasound results. They called back. "Everything looks fine. You don't have any cysts on your ovaries. It's possible you might have had a cyst, and that it's resolved itself now."

Except, I told them, I'm still in pain, and I'm still bleeding so nothing has resolved itself at all?! So wtf am I supposed to do?? It's like they want me to just accept that I'll have pain if I ever try to orgasm again, but they don't see anything, so it's fine, have a nice day?

They incredulously asked, "so do you want to make another appointment to come in and be seen again?" UMMM FUCKING YES!

So now I have an appointment to speak to my ACTUAL obgyn next Thursday. And the nurse advised me "take 600mg of ibuprofen every 6 hours, for 48 hours, and that should stop the bleeding."

I still at this point have no idea what the fuck is wrong with me. I swear to God if I go in there and these motherfuckers tell me "you're fine", when I know goddamn good and well that I am in fact not fine, I will fucking snap.

So yeah. That's the experience of one 40 year old vagina owner. I feel like I'm falling apart from the inside out, and exactly No One gives a fuck about it besides me.

[i-am-the-floor-goblin]

long one under the cut bois

So, Here’s the thing. I’ve had chronic pain for.... what? um. officially? a year and a half. Unofficially?... 5 years? Honestly? Probably since I was like 7 or someshit. When I was younger I used to struggle to sleep because of the pain in my knees. But no one really made a big deal about it so... I figured it was normal. And then my back started to really hurt... but I was also suicidal at the time so.. my doctor was very dismissive of anything but that. Even this crippling pain in my stomach that led me to drop out of school. So I figured it was normal.. And then for a couple of years I would try again sporadically and get generic “do more exercise and lose weight shit” to, and i shit you not, the girl with a fucking eating disorder. So, I didn’t go to the doctors again for a long, long time. probably about 4 years? Until my childhood friend was found dead in her dorm room. That triggered a depression and anxiety so profound it was the first time I ever agreed to go on antidepressants.  The first doctor I saw was an actual angel. He genuinely cared. I went back again I think a few months later? And she just threw meds at me. So many infact I still have some of them left a good 3 years later. So, naturally;  I didn’t go back. Flash forward to February 2019. My left knee was fucked. I could. Not. Walk. it hurt so badly all the time. Saw a paramedic at my surgery who legit gasped when he checked the mobility of my knee (this part of the story is important for later). It bent back so far he was legit just like “oh no”. So he gave me the good cush pain killers and a referral to a physio. My physio referral got lost. So I gave up. Until: August. I’m doing the dishes when a blinding pain shoots through my wrist. I could not move it, could not move my fingers without hot burning pain in my wrist. Could not even breathe. So, I went to the doctor because thats what you do when you’re in pain right? Dude didn’t even look at me. Asked me to put my hand flat on his desk. I couldn’t. So, he sent me to get blood tests for arthritis. While all this is going on mind, I was trying to ask my company to step down from a supervisor back to barista because I kept ‘hurting’ my shoulders while cashing up and the strain of carrying £800 in change every day back and forth from the safe to the office to cash up was killing my back and knees. Just keep that in mind. Blood tests came back.. Absolutely fine. The doctor who sees me cannot understand why that statement makes me cry. She was ready to send me on my merry way. So, with no explanation of what they are or what they’re for, she threw meds at me. I didn’t take them. Things get so bad and my pain is so extreme that I’m seriously starting to give up. Then, I remember the nice doctor from years ago. So I ask specifically to see him. God it was like a different dimension. He was like “oh that sounds like you’re subluxating your joints” and explained what the meds from the other lady were for and just really validated my feelings. Made me feel less crazy. Because sometimes you do feel crazy. I got re-referred to physio. After I casually wrote an incident report at work which is read by HR and my area manager, I amazingly went from being told there’s “just no way for me to step down” to demoted in about... a week? Physio goes really well. She was so lovely. I went every 2 to 3 weeks. I built up muscle really well. Learned that the way I hold myself will help keep my joints in place. It was a really validating experience. Both because she could recognize how fucked up my joints were and how gentle the exercises had to be to prevent me from just, breaking. And also because every time she’d tell me she could tell how hard I was working. That I really was trying and doing it.

Enter Covid.

so of course physio got canceled.

And the months go by. lockdown was fine. my hips subluxed during. so I had a few weeks of not really being very mobile, which was pretty scary since I live alone. But heyho. And then back to work. my body threw an almighty tantrum. I dislocated my big toe for one thing. But I didn’t work out that was what it was until after a “phone consultation” with the meanest physio ever. She basically told me I was delusional and to stop wasting her time. All because I told her “I think I may have subluxed my toe”. which probably would have gone over fine if it weren’t for the fact, I hadn’t had any kind of trauma to the area. I was in work, and one second I could stand and the next second? I could not put any weight on my right foot for fear of blinding pain. Sounds... uhhh familiar right? So I just... bought comfier work shoes and bandaged my foot as tight as I could.. and managed. I did end up calling the doctors again about 2 months later when the pain just. would. not. ease up. I still cant wear shoes that dont have really soft soles. So, I had more blood tests... that came back... FINE! BUT, Thats okay! Because the big appointment has finally arrived! The one my good doctor and my physio both told me would be the answer to all my prayers. Finally. I was going to a Rheumatologist! So my brother picked me up. Off we went to the hospital. I had to go in alone, because, you know.. covid. And I finally after a year of being on this waiting list, get called into the doctors office. At first it seems to be going okay. He’s taking notes, listening to my “story” (his words not mine). so then came the physical examination... where he made some bold claims. and then it was over. He sat me back down in his office and told me. “you dont have hypermobile joints, and theres nothing wrong with you”. Right? So, when I didn’t leave his office. He then backtracked and tried to throw “Chronic pain syndrome” at me. Bitch. Thats a fucking symptom not the cause. So, I still didn’t leave. So, this man deadass asks me what I think it is then. And so I was like “I dont know crazily thats why im here?????????????????” And he told me to go on GET THIS hypermobility forums online!!!!!!!!!!!!!! amd see what people on there recommend to help with pain and shit. He THEN asked me if I think I have fibromyalgia. Fam. Again. You are the doctor. I am a very sad 24 year old. And that was that. Bye. Peace out. Come back if you get any real symptoms. (No really he told me I was free to come back if I developed anything he could actually help with) So I walked out of his office. Back to the carpark where my brother was waiting. and then I cried. I cried so fucking hard man. it’s been 3 weeks and 3 days since that fucking day. I’ve stopped taking my meds. I dont eat. I haven’t had work this week so I haven’t left the house. Not once. I can’t even cry anymore. I’ve been depressed before and I’ve been suicidal before. But that was always grief fueled. Anxiety filled. This one hits different. I realized during lockdown I was depressed again. You know. The world is having a hard time atm. Throw in any extra struggles and its ripe for the old brain sads. But I am struggling to think of a time when I was ever this bad. Like. I am actually afraid of how unwell I am at the moment. And how unseriously my friends are taking it? And it hurts you know? Because a colleague of mine is having a hard time and my best friend is there for her... but not for me... and its just fucking with me even more because I for the first time in my god damn life. In the 13 years I’ve been depressed I reached out. I actually told the people who are supposed to care about me “Hey, im really not great atm” and they did exactly what I always knew they would. nothing. Thats not to say though, that my brother is like that. He is my ray of light. The only family I have. God. I would be so lost without him. But I just dont know what to do. I dont want to talk to some stranger over video call for “therapy” and I dont know if I’d be able to tell a doctor what’s wrong over the phone...and I am just so fucking lost. Covid is making this all so much harder. I just dont know what to do. I feel so lost. I needed to write this out though. Writing helps me clear my head.

[palpablenotion]

my uncle might have had another stroke and so he’s currently at the hospital (but apparently he’s alert and talking and mad my grandma is there)

some of you know the issues i’ve been having. it goes all the way back to mid summer. possibly longer. i was sick for a really long time, had a summer cold and couldn’t shake it. i found out i have an enlarged heart which my doctor just immediately blamed on my weight when it makes much more sense to credit it to my generally untreated anemia (which is now being treated).

i may or may not have had a pneumonia at this time and so could only help so much when my mother moved back in with us (and she and my father are still separated so that’s awkward af sometimes) and i had worked myself to very terrible lengths leading up to this to clean tf out of my house prior to mom moving in.

september is sort of a blur, but october 2nd my grandmother fell. i spent about a week taking care of my uncle before leaving to see my niece for her first birthday. staying there taking care of my uncle was so stressful that i got rashes on my legs and arms

i didn’t even get a week home before my grandmother was released from the hospital and i stayed with her for about a month, getting more and more stressed, sick, and just run down every single day. so why do it? because literally no one else would. i’m the only one available and so despite being sick, mentally ill, in pain, and a flare up of my major depressive disorder, apparently i’m the only fucking option

in that month, i was so stressed that i had daily, constant splitting/stabbing headaches, was essentially permanently light and sound sensitive, dangerously sleep deprived (did i mention that i was woken up everyday at seven am, not able to ever go back to sleep, and if i tried going to be even at ten pm, my grandmother would guilt me into staying up another hour?)

halfway through that month, btw, my dad and i got into a car accident. we were rear ended hard enough to force us to loose control of teh car and end up in oncoming traffic, which we luckily avoided, and the guy who hit us took off. it increaded my issues with cars ad specifically driving, and now i’m having a LOT more intrusive thoughts than before. my dad injured his back and neck. he’s still in pain.

i more or less take care of my dad, so it was even harder going back to grandma’s for a couple weeks while my dad was home dealing with this

i got home and things were stressful here too, for a few reasons - the holidays are always hard, and some of you know that i haven’t been to church since like august? which is even harder because it’s a big support system for me

i was just finally healing - the rashes on my hands are minimal now, still there but each is only about the size of a quarter rather than being too big for a bandaid to cover/essentially coving the entirety of the back of my hand

i’m sleeping more, i’ve taken my meds every day in 2018, my depression seems to be lifting at least a bit, i’ve even joined a reverse bigbang

and then my uncle had to be rushed to the hospital and my grandmother is expecting me to stay a few nights

i have to do it but oh god i can’t, i cried earlier, i just want to rest, i do things for her every single saturday, and often at least one day during the week, and that itself is exhausting, it’s so draining that i still haven’t been back to church because i spend sunday resting

i’m so very tired, y’all. i’m exhausted and everytime something else comes up with me she needs something else. i just had to make an emergency dentist appointment on wednesday because i was in so much pain i was crying and i wanted to just scream. remember how i have chronic pain? i have a fucking high pain tolerance. the dental hygienist was astounded at what i was enduring and i was in so much pain they gave me nearly a dozen shots before it was effective.

they couldn’t do anything but give me shots and do a cleaning, because they don’t take my insurance (medicaid) but they were able to give me some relief and a script for some pain relievers stronger than over the counter. i still need extensive dental work/surgery.

i feel better than wednesday morning, but better doesn’t mean i’m not in constant pain.i’m laying down right now with an ice pack under my jaw. (interestingly enough, the only relief i could get prior to the dentist was biting down on ice with the tooth that was in pain. my hygenist believed it was because i was increasing the pain so much that i couldn’t process it any longer)

i don’t feel like i’m up to going out there and dealing with her drama. she’s mostly lonely and she says she won’t “work [me] too hard” which means i’ll be constantly, constantly doing small tasks basically every hour of the day. i’ll probably have to do laundry, put away the dishes (she has a dish washer), she’ll probably want me to sort through her food to make sure it’s still good, probably make dinner, and probably some inane bullshit like putting up all her photos that were taken down before christmas, and it all seems like so much

i’m lucky to really get one thing done right now. yesterday i did the dishes and was so proud of myself.

i just hate this. i love my grandmother, i love her so much. but i just hate this. i will have zero privacy, it will be way too hot (she seems to like it at 80 degress F while i sometimes find 72 to be warm)

if you pray, please pray for me. if you don’t, send me good vibes. i feel like crying again, i don’t want to do this even a little and it’s going to be so fucking hard, especially since she’s going to put her emotional baggage on me and i just can’t handle that.

[duchessavalentino]

How much humiliation does one have to suffer to atone for one`s actions? Condemning glances, whispers, even that crystal clear unconcealed hostility… all were easy to bear. Especially when one didn’t give a fuck about other people’s opinions. Especially when the only people that had the right to judge were all dead.

 “Fucking hell,” August muttered, as he sagged against the soft cushions on his couch. His couch… yeah, nothing in this apartment was truly his. Letting out another foul curse, he lifted the beer he was holding and brought the bottle to his lips. An angry vein pulsing on his forehead, he took a healthy swig.

 ‘I’m going to fucking kill her with my bare hands!’ he thought. The idea itself calming him down somewhat. The nerve she had! That little brat! Maybe he would beat her ass raw so that she wouldn’t be able to sit on it for a week. That… lovely ass of hers. August grinned crookedly and snorted at the memory.

 August had had an awful day today. He’d finally got to meet the agent that had been assigned to be his shadow. To watch over him, while he worked his way back into the ranks of the Apostles, in order to bring an end to the organization.

 ‘April Runner’ was his shadow’s name and he couldn’t help but wonder whether the universe was mocking him as well, as a part of his punishment. What were the odds of her having a name matching his own? So. Fucking. Funny. Ha-haaa.

 Taking another sip, August grunted and loosened his tie. He didn’t know what to make of her. Physically, she was short and he towered well above her. Yet, her attitude, she wielded it in a manner comparable to some kind of a lethal weapon made him feel like she believed it was the other way around.

 She was bold, bossy and full of fire. A real pleasure to be around, really. 100 %! Unfortunately for her, August liked to be in control of things. He would have to show her where her place was, because he didn’t take well to being ordered around. Granted, whenever situation demanded it, he could act obedient and pliable. One might say he deserved an Oscar for his ‘good boy’ portrayal. For now, he decided, he would comply and indulge those little games of hers. But he had to draw the line somewhere.

 He recalled her ogling his body when they introduced themselves to each other in the morning. The little witch didn’t seem to have the word ‘boundaries’ in her vocabulary, nor any kind of filter between her brain and mouth. ‘I’m hoping we get to know each other much better before we reach that point…'

 Groaning, August put the almost empty bottle on the coffee table and got up. He desperately needed a shower. A long, cold shower. He cupped his crotch and hissed. It was just his luck that she was exactly his type, body-wise. He had always preferred women who were bigger. Their bodies were soft and plump, he loved the decadent pleasure they offered. He had never needed to take extra care to be gentle with them. They were more than capable of handling what he himself had to offer. Damn, that ass of hers! Yep, he needed that shower. If he were to be honest though, it wasn’t like he was actually interested in her sexually. The problem was that he was a man and men noticed such things inadvertently. And before they knew it, they found themselves in tricky situations.

 Exhausted by the day’s trials, August sauntered slowly to the shower, discarding his clothes on the floor along his way. His mind just couldn’t let go of April. Thank god that it seemd like she wasn't interested in him sexually either. He knew her behavior was just an act. A display of dominance. As far as reality went, in a carnal sense, she was more interested in her sandwich than in August. The fucking sandwich and the way she sucked her finger! When was the last time he’d taken a woman? Fuck, he couldn’t remember. Which was a good enough reason to feel pity for himself. No wonder he was so horny that even the image of that bratty little shit got him standing at attention.

 August stepped into the shower and turned on the faucet. In the last moment he changed his mind about freezing himself to death and adjusted the tap to get the perfect scorching temperature. He propped his hands against the wall, trying to relax. It was heaven, the water streaming down on his head and shoulders, then flowing down his back soothingly.

 It was not enough though. Despite being tired, he felt awfully tense and he knew he had to take the edge off. If he could just stop thinking about those cursed fluffy slippers! Why did everything have to be so fucking complicated! April Runner kept ruining even his private time! He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Nonetheless, it was no surprise. He could really kill her for what she’d done to him today, damn it!

 Not only was he forced to endure her company this morning. Afterwards, she had sent him on a train of never ending appointments…

_______________________________________________________

 It all started with a polygraph session at 10am. August was too familiar with those for his liking. After he’d been found and brought back from Pakistan, the CIA did not waste time. Being bound to hospital bed, one would expect visitors to bring flowers or ‘Get well soon!’ balloons. They kept coming back with the ludicrous machine instead. Oh how he enjoyed the recovery period after each surgery. It was only then, that they let him be for a while. The heavy influence of painkillers and sedatives making it impossible for him to cooperate.

 August was bored with the constant interrogation and repetitive questions. Nevertheless, he would bet many more tedious sessions would follow, mainly now as he was back in the service. He would handle it, though. Anything to keep the CIA entertained. The idea that they kept hoping to catch him lying, being greedy to stumble upon some secret plan of his, made him laugh. He’d been John Lark after all, no wonder they were suspicious as fuck. Except… the more they tested him, the easier it was to trick the machine.

 After he killed almost an hour and half with the nonsense, he visited the headquarter’s own medical facility. The doctors needed to assess his physical condition thoroughly. August allowed them to poke and prod at him, then he was submitted to a series of physical tests. Leaving what seemed like another eternity later, he had a new detailed physiotherapy plan ready, scheduled for 3 months ahead. August wondered why they even bothered so much with a walking corpse like him.

 Following the timetable April gave him, he headed to the 4th floor to deal with the administration office. Apparently, there had been a lot of leftover paperwork. He needed to go through it and sign a couple of disclosures and agreements. He did it all in a robot-like manner. Afterwards, exhausted from the entire ordeal and hungry because he missed his lunch break, he was displeased to find out that the polygraph was waiting for him again, ready to take the advantage of his discomposed self.

 At last, the final appointment of the day came. The highlight of the day, the cherry on top! Back to the medical center it was. Where a nurse was expecting him, prepared… to perform a fucking cavity search! April Runner truly owed him her ass for this.

 August was bursting with anger over the humiliation. He was ready to go and strangle the bitch. Once dismissed from the tender care of the nurse, he didn’t get very far before his phone chimed with message from April. She informed him casually, that she was busy for the rest of the day and therefore they would meet tomorrow. Again, he was being dismissed by her. He didn’t like hurting women if he didn’t have to, but she was pushing it!

 The only thing that calmed his temper at that moment was the fact that it was rather late in the afternoon and her message meant the day’s torture was over. A bullet wouldn’t be able to fly as fast as August did, as he picked up his things and disappeared.

______________________________________________________

 And here he was. At home, in the shower… still distressed by the hardships he had endured.

 He was washing himself thoroughly, prolonging the task purposefully. Begging for the water to reduce the tension in his sore muscles and tendons. It worked… to a certain point. The one part of his body that didn’t seem to get the message was his straining erection. The pain focused there now. August palmed himself roughly and gritted his teeth, hissing. She would soooo pay for this!

 A few moments later, finished with taking care of his business, he stepped out of the shower. He contemplated ordering something for dinner, now that he was feeling much better and somewhat relaxed. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast. And whose fault was that?!

 August grabbed a towel and dried himself off. Exhaustion started washing over him with renewed vigor. He hoped he’d be able to stay awake long enough for the food to arrive. Dressed only in the towel hanging low on his hips, he made his way back into the kitchen.

 A quick search revealed that he had left his phone on the counter. One call to the nearest pizza place later, after he’d been reassured the food would be delivered within 30 minutes, August dragged himself to the fridge to grab another beer, the phone still in his hand.

 Suddenly, the phone chimed, indicating he received a new message and it caught his attention. Hoping it was nothing important, he opened it and read the short text. The beer was forgotten for now.

 YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED DEAD.