#please touch grass take a xanax go outside something

[extasiswings]

Buck and Eddie could full out have sex at the bachelor party in 7x06 and some of y’all would be like “Buddie canon is so dead/never happening” and also complain about it being bad and evil because “it’s cheating” or whatever 🙄

[pandemiclaughter]

Rambling about MIL her anxiety, parkinson’s

Some of the most frustrating conversations are with those who are in the very beginning stages of dementia, super stubborn, riddled with anxiety, angry, and sprinkled with some passive aggressiveness on top for extra fun.   Then I’m going to make this communication even more difficult by letting my rambilng ADD tell you about these difficult encounters. 

(warning---you may just want to skip this one---if you do, but want to have an idea of what this is about here’s the basics of the post:  

The basic facts from this crazy non-linear explosion of words is my MIL believes she truly is going to run out of oxygen to breathe in the air. And how she went from telling me she has never had anxiety to she has lived with anxiety her whole life.)

MIL (in her 80s with Parkinson’s) does not have good balance, she can not stand for many seconds without support. She is always freezing.  When we first moved in here she would run blow dryers on her bed all night. She said it was to keep her warm. But now through much more dedection---they were also white noise to help with her anxiety. 

So we have moved to no longer using the bed as potential kindle.  It took her a few months to learn to use an app for white noise sound (damn when they upgrade the app---she stopped using it and went back to a CD--but was mad because it was a different CD player). We got google dot to work for a bit, but then she would tell it to play things with a limited time.  She also refuses ocean sounds--because ocean sounds make you pee.  (I get how the sound of a trickling stream may make you want to pee--but crashing waves---dear God, how forceful is your urine?)

So back to her freezing.  We got a nice little heater in there, with a thermostat and a timer.  Hubby went and turned “off” the vents--(these vents are from the 70s and they do not really close). One vent under the bed, the other behind the dresser.  Both I would have a really hard time getting to. 

Hubby and I came in the other night to help her with her sleep sounds again.  And he notices her vents are open full.  

First we asked her how---because with her balance---(We’ve had one fall since we’ve been Coronateened--thank GOD she didn’t hurt herself). So she’s like, of course I opened them---I didn’t have enough oxygen in here. 

Wait---her room is the largest room in the house---master bedroom with a door to the outside, windows, regardless--run out of oxygen--how do you run out of oxygen---she’s not in a sealed box. She continues to tell us that the oxygen runs out at night and she can’t breathe.  Hubby and I try not to laugh--explain she will never run out of oxygen in the air--and the air conditioner is not bringing in more oxygen. We ask her please, if she wants her vents opened or closed to come get us--because we really don’t want her falling.  (I still can’t figure out how she got them opened.)  This is the same woman who refuses to walk on grass--because she will fall and refuses to walk down the driveway--without someone watching her.  She’s riddled with these weird beliefs (it runs in the family--hubby’s sister is afraid to eat meat if the white and the dark meat have visibly touched).

Later, another time, I try to talk to her about her episodes at night and in the conversation explain they might be anxiety attacks she is feeling.  I ask her what has worked for her in the past for her anxiety attacks. Now this is the same woman who usually gets excited about being ill--but she hates that I use the word anxiety. 

MIL: I have never had an anxiety attack. I don’t have anxiety. 

Me: Ok, but didn’t you used to take Xanax daily? 

MIL: Yes. 

Me: Ok, why did you take Xanax daily?

MIL: That’s because I taught school and kids are stressful. 

Me: Ok, but didn’t your doctor just recently stop filling your prescription? Just in the last year?  (she’s in her 80s)

MIL: That’s because he said it’s not good for my health and I could fall.   (ok--I know kids are stressfull--but I’m pretty certain that you weren’t still stressed years after teaching---but I don’t go there.)

Me;  So was there anything else that you did to help when you were more stressed out?  I mention how she was doing well after starting Zoloft, but over the last couple of weeks she hasn’t been sleeping, she seems on edge,  maybe wanted to talk to the doctor about upping the dose.  (What I really want to tell her is I need you to get your anxiety in check, because it’s starting to set off my anxiety something awful.  We have had conversations about my anxiety it has helped opened up some discussion--and also that her 3 children all have it too.  i know some of this is people just didn’t talk about anxiety before---or I guess she didn’t?)

(this is the sweet lady that only gets mad at me---well and her oldest daughter. Before we moved in, I had never heard a harsh word--I knew she got mad at her oldest daughter, but since I have moved in---she really saves getting mad for me instead of her oldest daughter. her relationship has gotten better with her oldest---and I try to remember that when she gets mad---I would love for someone to be the buffer between me and my Mom, if this was my Mom, so I could enjoy having a better relationship.  My husband---the baby of the family and only son of an Italian family---he can do no wrong---still to this day.  If she is even slightly upset with him---she will still direct it towards me or his sisters)  I digress.  

MIL:   SHAUNA--- I HAVE HAD ANXIETY MY WHOLE LIFE, I just live with it. And I never needed more than under a mg of xanax---i’m already on 50 mg and that’s just too much medicine.  And I’ve never had an anxiety attack.  (ok---at least we have moved from never having anxiety---that was quick) 

(all who have known her feel like she took xanax more than once a day---she used to be zoned out and chill a lot--we have really wanted to see if edibles could help--I know I’ve seen some great things with the parkinson’s too---and if I am right---it could be a mixed bag with anxiety--becuase it can increase the paranoia---but maybe that’s a full edibile?---maybe the CBD only stuff?  I need to look into it more---we still live in the most strict---weed is bad state). But willing to help her too--if it will help. 

Me:  (I give up even trying to compare/contrast Xanax to Zoloft dosages.) Have you ever thought of deep breathing when you feel like there is no oxygen in the room?

MIL: That won’t work.

As this cycle of conversation contitued she opened up to hearing about breathing exercises, tells me about how she has used them before and used to have a CD on them,  and then was shocked again about the fact they could be on youtube.  

She’s always shocked we tell her she can find things on youtube.  We possibly always take it a bit too far hubby tells her how she can learn to make a pipe bomb or find naked old men to watch, if she wanted.  I can’t think of all the crazy things hubby tells her she could do on youtube. I’m surprised we haven’t had a visit from the governement. 

 She has learned to do her daily Parkinson’s workouts and other therapy through youtube. I also connected her with a therapist online (she swore she didn’t need one of those--but thank goodness for them.).  I will have to remember their name--great company and really reaching out to the elderly during this pandemic time.  But they seemed like a good company before this time---I’m glad. They also check in with the patient’s family members to see how they are doing and relay things back and forth and also help the children with their aging parent. 

Then we are back to square one---she doesn’t want help with anything---so showing her these breathing videos---that takes a couple more days. 

I forget how much time she takes.  And sometimes I just need a break, so me needing a break extends some of this time too. And how did you teach school, but also believe you can run out of oxygen in a large, ventilated room?  I get these worries aren’t logical---but sometimes they just hurt my brain. 

Rambling end for now. 

[noonachronicles]

Planes

Choi Seunghyun/ TOP X Reader

Words: 2.7k

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Warnings: Discrete mention of sex.

Every Friday right after school the two of them would take the city bus to Gimpo International Airport. The ride took a little over an hour. She would spend the ride doing homework while he spent the time writing poems and ideas for raps in his notebook.

There was one last stop just outside of the airport itself that they always got off at. They would run into the convenience store on the corner to stuff their bags with soda and snacks. Once they were fully stocked they walked together through the long grass on the side of the road to a dirt trail that lead them around to a field just outside of the airport perimeter. A blue pull-string bag was tied to a large bush and inside it was the blanket that they kept there to set out.

They laid together on their backs staring up at the sky, watching as plane after plane took their load of people up, up, and away. A lot of the time she wondered if the planes she saw that day were the same planes that she'd seen the week or month before. A lot of the time he wondered what she would do if he slipped his hand over hers.

“Where do you think that one is going?” She asked after another plane had taken off above them.

Too far away from you. He thought, but what he said was, “Bora Bora.”

She laughed, “Why Bora Bora?”

“Why not?”

“Hmm, I guess that's a fair.” She said watching another plane elevating. “I bet that one is going to Paris.”

“And everyone aboard is drinking the most expensive wines and eating smelly cheeses.”

“And smoking thin cigarettes.”

“And the whole plane is in dull shades of black and white like those movies you love so much.”

“One day I'll be on the black and white plane to Paris. Just wait.”  

She laughed not really believing her own dreams and moved her hand over his, linking their fingers together. They didn't talk about it. They talked about the next plane, the one going to America.

Sometimes on the bus ride home she would fall asleep with her head on his shoulder and it was those times when he perfected his stoicism. He wouldn't move or speak, he rarely allowed himself to breathe for fear of waking her up and ruining the moment. She was soft and warm and he was desperately in love with her. He thought anyone that could look that beautiful under the florescent lighting of public transit had to be an angel. Once he was bold enough to angle his face towards hers in such a way that allowed him to kiss her forehead, when he looked back down at her he swore he saw a small smile.

They shared their first time together on that blanket, in the field. Under the sky and under their airplanes. She initiated, grabbing his cheeks in her hands and pressing her lips eagerly against his. They were so young then, it had been so awkward when they touched. Neither of them was quite sure what to do. He'd watched videos before, sort of. The man that lived in the apartment across from the one he grew up in would sometimes watch them on his living room television. So he would strain his eyes through the windowpane and across the street to catch a glimpse or two of the actors fitting themselves together like puzzle pieces made of flesh and pubic hair. She had only read about it in books and wasn't sure how to handle it when he took off his underwear and his member wasn't throbbing. Thinking that she'd done something wrong already she broke down into tears. He held her then, the both of them half naked, in a dirt and grass field in the early evening on a Friday.

She kissed him again and he squeezed her breasts with both hands. When she took him into her mouth he almost cried himself. He didn't come in her mouth, he wasn't sure he could and he didn't want to anyway. She laid down on the blanket, spreading herself open for him and he gulped down years of nerves and anticipation of this moment and of her.

His heart almost stopped when he pushed inside of her because she winced. He thought she hated him in that moment, but then she smiled encouragingly and slowly lifted her hips up taking more of him in. He came, she didn't, but she didn't mind. They put their clothes back on and laid silently on top of their blanket, under their airplanes. They spoke at the same time.

“I love you.”

“I'm leaving.”

They shared three more Fridays together at the airport. Two of them were spent on the blanket, sometimes kissing, sometimes crying. The third Friday he sat on the blanket alone and watched her plane take off without him. He didn't have to wonder where that plane was headed.

A dozen years passed and everything had changed. He never went back to the airport, not for the reason he had gone before anyway. He had been on plenty of planes that took him plenty of places, but he never sat and watched them any longer. He never wondered where they were headed because by the time he thought of her voice asking “Where do you think that one is going?” he was on the plane that was taking off. Sometimes he wondered if the blanket was still there, in its bag tied to the bush. Once he imagined that wild dogs had tore it apart savagely, hungered by the smell of their sex that had never been cleaned off.

One of the plenty of planes he'd been on took off from Gimpo and he stared out of the window and imagined what the two of them would have looked like to peeping passengers. Just flecks, he'd decided. Not human, not anything special. He'd been to Paris a dozen times and he always laughed as he sat in his seat, thinking about the expensive wine and stinky cheeses. Wishing he could indulge in a thin cigarette so badly that his hands shook with anxiety until the plane landed or the Xanax kicked in.

“Seunghyun!!”

“TOP! Over here! TOP!”

“Oopa, please smile for us!”

“Tabi!”

He pressed his earbuds into place and tapped the play button on his phone, letting the sound of the record of the week overflow and drown out the sound of a hundred screaming strangers. He dropped his phone in the pocket of his heavy black coat smiled and gratefully to his assistant as he took back his passport and ticket with his newly freed hand. He watched in front of him as Youngbae and Jiyong ducked their heads together chatting secretly as they often did. Behind him he knew that Seungri was flashing smiles at fans and Daesung was politely prodding the maknae forward.

“Bonjour! Welcome to Paris Air, here are a few tips to make sure your flight is safe and comfortable.” The petite blonde woman on the screen in front of his first class seat was on her second round of airplane protocol when he finally decided to mute her.

“Mr. Choi, thank you for flying Paris Air this afternoon. May I offer you some complimentary champagne or perhaps a glass of wine?” The stewardess bent, just slightly at the waist and he wondered how uncomfortable her job really was.

“Champa-” he stopped himself and chuckled, “Wine, please. Whatever is most expensive.”

As she left to get his drink he looked over at Jiyong who was already curled up in his chair with a face mask over his eyes. On his other side Seungri was typing away on his phone, the screen illuminating his face.

It was her laugh that caught his attention. The laugh he had thought he'd heard so many times by now that he usually ignored it, but this time it was too real, too near. When he peeked around his seat he could see her smile, it was exactly the same. He ducked back into his seat and took a deep breath. His mouth and throat felt dry.

Peeking around his seat again he noticed the man she was with. He was lifting her bag up into the overhead compartment and she rubbed his forearm as they laughed together. Seunghyun already felt sick to his stomach. He hated himself for being jealous about it. It had been a dozen years, how was he not over her yet?

“Tabi-hyung!” Daesung called causing Seunghyun's face to snap forward, a brochure staring back at him. “I saw this and thought of you, there's a pretty big gallery opening in two days, we’ll be free that night.”

“Thanks, Dae.” He smiled gratefully. When he turned back around she was already in her seat and all he could see were her smooth tan legs peeking out from the cream colored leather seat.

He drank his wine slowly, slower than normal, trying to decide what to do. All he knew for sure is that he had to say something. What he would say and when he would say it was the question at hand. Three hours had passed and he had finished two and a half glasses of rich red wine. His cheeks were flush and he closed his eyes as he listened to the gentle beats coming from his earbuds.

He didn't think it was more than a moment but it could have also been several hours. A soft brush against his fingertips brought him back to the world, and sent an electric current up his arm. His heart stopped momentarily in his chest, it was her. When his eyes opened there was no one there, nothing out of place. He turned his head to peek at her again. Her legs were covered in a plush beige blanket and a book sat open on her lap.

Immediately the thought of their rides to the airport, how she'd sit on the vinyl cushion of the bus, a decade ago. A school book would be propped open on her lap, their bodies pressed together on the seat they shared. It was one of the only times he'd ever not minded being heavy. He could touch her with a valid excuse.

When he turned back in his seat he saw it. A bright white piece of paper with the Paris Air letterhead in the top left hand corner. Beautifully written, by hand, it said simply,

I missed you. Xoxo

PS- This should go with your expensive wine.

He wanted to frame that note and hang it in the Louvre. When he lifted the letter from the small table he saw beneath it a cheese plate wrapped tightly in cellophane. A smile spread warmly across his face, he couldn't and wouldn't stop it from being there. His whole body felt lighter, his shoulders pulled back and he sat confidently. He took a deep breath, blinking rapidly as he planned the next move. His leg shook anxiously as he waited for the most opportune moment. It came when the guy she had been with walked passed him to the restroom.

He got up and walked casually over to her seat, he wished he'd had a suit on, he always felt more confident in a suit. She looked up from her book with a bright smile.

“I was worried you didn't remember me.”

He didn't say anything. He was at a loss for words. All he did was blink down at her, soaking her in. She was here, she was real, he didn't make her up in his head this time. The two of them existed in that moment just to look upon one another. He thought she looked exactly the same but also completely different. She had aged beautifully like all of his favorite wines. He fought the urge to kiss her, to tell her he loved her still. That he had never stopped.

He watched her eyes gloss over and tears rim the bottoms of her eyes as she looked up at him. When she blinked, several tears slipped down her cheeks and she turned her face away with a small laugh of embarrassment.

“I'm sorry.” She mumbled as she wiped her cheeks. He bit his lip, silent and stoic as ever. “Say something, Seunghyun, please. So that I know you're real and that I'm not going crazy.”

“I could never have forgotten you.”

The bass of his voice reverberated through her whole body. Her soul was awaken once more.

She blushed deeply, “You look… phenomenal.”

Seunghyun smiled his small, embarrassed smile, his cheeks forming perfectly rounded domes. “You loved me when I didn't.”

“When you didn't what?”

“Look phenomenal.”

“I've always thought you were beautiful.” She admitted truthfully.

“Won't your boyfriend mind that you're flirting with me?”

A mixture of confusion and amusement played on her face, “What boyfriend?... What flirting?”

He nodded his head to the empty seat across from her.

“Oh, Wonseok? No, He’s my assistant and you’re definitely more his type than I am.” She laughed. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

“I am actually seeing someone right now.” He bit his lip again as he saw the disappointment cross her face, “I'm seeing you, right in front of me.”

She covered her face with her hands as she laughed, “My forever bingu. I'm so glad to see that fame hasn't changed you, Seunghyun.”

“Ah, so you heard about that? The fame thing.”

“I did. A couple of times, just in passing though.” She said sticking her tongue out playfully. “I'm really proud of you, of who you've become.”

“Who have you become?”

She eyed her seat curiously and then scooted to one side, “Sit with me, I will tell you all about the woman that I am.”

It was a tight fit even in the oversized seat, but neither of them complained. As she told him all about her life he thought about how they had been so comfortable with one another years ago and how amazing it was that after more than a decade it took a split second for them to be that way again. After she felt like she'd talked his ear off for far too long about herself she asked him about the parts of his life that couldn't be learned from a tabloid.

They sat squished together in her seat for the rest of the flight. As she asked him about his life and he answered she pulled her knees to her chest and burrowed into him. They didn't talk about it, how comfortable they were together. They didn't talk about it when they were young and they didn't talk about it now. It's just how it always was and they accepted it. With only an hour or so left of the flight she had fallen asleep tucked under his arm.

Youngbae who had been over to see Jiyong walked past them with a more than surprised look on his face finding his hyung in such an intimate position with someone he could only describe as a stranger. Seunghyun only had to mouth It’s her for Youngbae’s face to light up. For a decade he had heard about her. Seunghyun and him had spent countless nights talking about true love, soulmates, fate, and missed opportunities. Although they could have been talking about anything and Seunghyun would always find a way to bring the conversation back to her.

As the tiny plane on the screen in front of them got closer and closer to its destination Seunghyun felt both relief and anxiety.

“Do you remember when we would ride home together on the bus from the airport and you would kiss me on the forehead because you thought I was asleep?”

“How long have you been awake?” He asked.

“Not long.” she shifted finally, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Do you remember?”

“Of course.” He smiled, brushing away the few strands of hair that had gotten stuck against her rosy cheek.

“In twelve years no one else has ever done that.”

“Maybe you were just actually asleep when they did it.”

“I don’t usually like to sleep too close to other people. It gets too warm and I get uncomfortable.”

“This was okay though? This was comfortable?”

“This has always been okay.” she blushed.

“Do you want to have dinner with me when we land?”

“No.” she said with a straight face before letting a grin slip. “It will be about eight in the morning when we arrive. I’d love to have breakfast with you however.”