#they never listen to her and getting an appointment at a specialist takes months

[umilily]

a year ago my friend wanted to visit me… and got covid.

this weekend we wanted to go on a little trip together… and she got covid.

[lynnsenpai]

My ten year anniversary of beating cancer

On October 2nd 2014, I - a trans woman - was diagnosed with testicular cancer. I wanna talk about that a little today. (((Probably obvious trigger warnings, but I'm going to talk about cancer, mortality, and transphobia.)))

It was a crazy time, because that morning, I was just going in for my yearly physical with my doctor. I planned to talk to her about taking steps towards bottom surgery that day, and then I was just excited to get home and count down the hours until Smash Bros for 3DS would release the very next day. But the appointment went an unexpected direction during the physical.

I'd always been told by doctors my whole life to check for lumps, and as much as I hated that part of my body, I did as I was told. So when I never found lumps, I assumed that meant I was okay. Then my doctor told me one of them felt oddly hard. She left the room for some time (I assume to check some things) and when she returned, she explained she had some concerns and was sending to another specialist to confirm some things. She said she felt very sure it was a sign of testicular cancer, though.

At the time, my brain wasn't ready to hear that. My doctor was visibly shaken. My spouse was on the verge of tears. And I was deep in denial like, "but I mean there's a chance it might not be, right? So I'm not going to sweat it." In hindsight, I'm sure I was frustrating to listen to for not taking it seriously. But it wasn't like I was trying to be obstinate, I just was that strongly in disbelief. I didn't feel sick. I wasn't in any pain. Things were going well; this couldn't possibly be happening now.

And yet, a few days later, I saw the specialist, and it was confirmed. I had cancer. Any optimistic doubts I had, shot down in an instant. The specialist wanted to take care of this as fast as he could, so I was scheduled for surgery at the end of the month, and he gave me a stack of prescriptions for various tests I would go to - basically one a day - for the next few weeks.

I had lots of blood drawn. I had x-rays done. I had CT scans. I had an incredibly awkward, uncomfortable ultrasound. And at each appointment, I was seeing some new doctor, nurse, technician, or otherwise professional who probably looked at my chart and, despite my legally changed name and gender marker by that point, saw that the person in front of them had testicular cancer. “And such a person could only be a man.”

I feel like it must sound so petty to be worried about pronouns when you're dealing with something like cancer. But I want to stress that I was nearly a year in presenting full time as myself by that point. I hadn't been called a man in a very long time. And up until earlier that very month, I was on cloud nine and ready to take the next step in my transition. This whole ordeal, on top of being horrendously scary, also took huge strides in regressing all the progress I'd made with confidence and self-love over the previous two years.

And it got worse too. Insurance refused to cover the surgery because I changed the gender marker. Because "why would a woman need to get surgery to remove a testicle. That's just silly!" And there was no convincing them otherwise. Insult to injury, I had to change that gender marker back to an M in their system so that they would approve this surgery. It was a surprisingly easy change to make happen too (which was technically beneficial for the surgery, but also sucked in its own way).

Oh, and then I had to go off all my HRT meds in preparation to reduce the risk of blood clots during surgery. I never felt lower.

All the while, I had plenty of time to think about my mortality. I was only 30. What about my spouse who I love more than anything and might be leaving alone forever? What about my ongoing webcomic, my work of passion which at the time was only nearing about the halfway point, and was at risk of being left unfinished forever? And what about my own future that not so long ago felt so bright?

It would not be an understatement to call October 2014 one of the darkest, heaviest, scariest periods of my life. But not in that good fun "Halloweeny" way.

But the big day came. On October 28th - ten years ago today - I went in for surgery for the first time. I was in the OR for maybe an hour, and the cancerous testicle was removed. As suddenly as it started, it was over.

Recovery was a long and painful (without dragging out the story longer than it already is, the surgical site got infected, so healing probably ended up taking longer than it should have). But the good news, all things considered, was that they successfully removed it, and I wouldn't even need chemo because it was caught so early.

There's technically more to the story. I would later see an oncologist who encouraged a second surgery, to remove the other testicle, as well as lymph nodes around the kidneys, all as a preventative measure to make sure it didn't come back or spread. I didn't love this idea, but she seemed confident that this was the right choice, so I went along with it. And just four months after the first surgery, I went and did it all again. (This time went much more smoothly, but was a much bigger incision, and was still a very long recovery.)

The whole thing, start to finish - including recovery time - was only about 7 months long. I would go for regular oncology visits and testing and blood draws along the way for years to come, but it never showed up again.

In 2016, I finally got back on track for bottom surgery, and then had it done later that same year. My gender marker is back to being an F (where it should be) on everything. I also have two wicked cool scars to show that I conquered cancer.

Unfortunately, I don't think I ever fully mentally recovered from the emotional stress of that first month, as doctor visits still evoke way more anxiety for me than they used to. But I don't get misgendered anymore, at least.

This was all ten years ago I wasn't sure I'd still be here on this day back then. But I got through it. I'm still here for my spouse. I finished that first webcomic after an 11 year run, and have since started a second. And… I'm doing okay. I'm doing the best I can everyday.

It was a terrible time in my life - an especially terrible way to start my 30's - but I think it helps to talk about from time to time. And the ten year anniversary, feels as meaningful a time as any.

So thank you for reading all that. Please make sure to take care of and check yourself. Even if it's a part of yourself you don't want.

Stay safe, stay happy, and stay healthy everyone.

[ladylooch]

Best Thing I’ll Ever Do - Lio x Savannah (Part 2)

A/N: Since you all asked soooo nicely! Here is the next part of Lio and Sav. I hope you all are having wonderful Sundays. I love you... remember that when you read this next part.... 💀

Word Count: 4k

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

January

Since that day in Southern California a year ago, a lot has happened for Savannah and Lio.

First and most exciting, a large 5 carat diamond weighs her left hand down. She still feels like she needs to pinch herself to make sure it isn’t a dream. Savannah Miller is going to marry Lio Meier next Summer. 

Second, she is no longer with the Devils. After the previous season ended, she evaluated her goals and felt like she wanted to do something different than what she had been doing. She wanted to be her own boss and see where her content career could take her rather than being constrained by a team and a league that wanted things done a certain way.

Third, and probably most important of all, she’s been to more doctors visits in the last year than she can count on any of her appendages.

Lio kept his vow to her to utilize the Devils resources to locate an endometriosis specialist who would give Savannah answers and a better direction for her wellbeing.

Dr. Barnes was the first one they met with and Savannah instantly knew things were going to be different this time around. Dr. Barnes had a kind, empathetic, and solutions driven focus that made Savannah feel at ease immediately. She listened to Savannah’s entire story, took down diligent notes, asked follow up questions.  Within the same appointment, Dr. Barnes created a multilayered, holistic care plan, taking into consideration that Savannah did not want to go right to surgery.

The first thing they decided on was to take out Savannah’s IUD and switch her to birth control pills. There was concern the IUD was rubbing against portions of endometriosis which was exacerbating her symptoms. Savannah did feel better for a few months, but by month three, she was back to clutching her abdomen in the fetal position for days. They pivoted the treatment plan to a different kind of pill that other patients had success with, but when Savannah ended up in the ER again early in the summer, throwing up and passing out from the pain, it became clear that surgery was going to be the only option Savannah had for long-term relief. 

The day of her surgery, Lio kissed her in reassurance, then waved goodbye to her as she was wheeled out of pre-op and down the hall.

“I’ll be right here with you when you’re done, baby.” He had called to her before the doors separated them. Savannah nodded, trying to be brave for herself and Lio. Last time, she had to do this virtually alone. Her boyfriend at the time had shown up after she went in for surgery and then dropped her off at home before heading out with his friends for another round of golf. Her recovery was completely isolating except for a neighbor who checked in on Savannah once a day at Savannah’s request.

Lio Meier would never. 

Instead, he had a recovery suite set up in their bedroom for her. A quiet oasis where Savannah could relax and heal in her time. He has been there every step of the way, even at the moments when Savannah has pushed him away. She may be used to dealing with this alone, but Lio won’t let her go through this that way anymore.

Two weeks after her surgery, her and Lio went back to Dr. Barnes to get the findings of the surgery and tissue analysis. The news were mixed results. The good news was the spots they removed were consistent with Savannah’s previous surgery, meaning there was no new or extended growth in her endometriosis. The bad news was this confirmed that surgery is only successful for a limited amount of time, meaning Savannah will likely need several more surgeries down the line if this path continues for her. Dr. Barnes has encouraged Savannah to sit with this news and consider further permanent solutions such as a hysterectomy.

“What are my other options? I’m not ready for that.” She had asked with Lio’s hand tucked tightly against hers. His thumb stroked over the tendons on the top of her hand with assurance. He was here; they would get through this together.

The other recommendation was to go back to birth control, but a Progesterone only option. Dr. Barnes was shocked when Savannah said this was never given to her, even as a first line of treatment. It’s been four months now and Savannah has been feeling better than she could have imagined with her endometriosis. However, a severe drawback is that her pain has moved from her uterus and formulated in her head as three day long migraines when she is at the end of her cycle.

Everything costs something. That’s been the biggest lesson Savannah has learned through this journey.

But this weekend, none of that matters. Because Lio has a whole trip planned to celebrate his beautiful, strong fiancé, finally having answers and support that she deserved all along. He has been wanting to do this for months, but Savannah didn’t want to leave home until she had a clear understanding of how managed her endo was after surgery. The last thing she wanted was him to put together a perfect trip that ended with her in the ER from debilitating pain again.

Savannah is confident that won’t be happening this trip. She grins, feeling grateful for the peace of mind she has going into this fun weekend.

Lio’s Porsche points towards the southern tip of New Jersey. They are 2 hours into their 2.5 hour trip down to Cape May. The vastness of the ocean hints to their left off the Garden State Parkway the closer they get to town. Lio drives, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel to the beat of the pop song coming through Savannah’s Spotify. His other hand is on her thigh where she traces his fingers and the veins of his forearm.

“I wonder how busy it will be.”

“Probably not bad. School is back in session after winter break.” Lio reminds her.

“I’ve never been here in the winter months.”

“My mom took us down here a few times. It was mostly before the twins though.”

“How do you even remember that?” Savannah asks, looking over at him. He shrugs.

“I remember a lot of what we did with my mom. She was great at making it feel like we could still have fun even with how often my dad was gone.” Lio starts to chuckle. “Also I definitely pushed Livy in the ocean and got yelled at by my dad on FaceTime, so it was memorable.”

“Lee!” She chuckles. “You were terrible to her.”

“I know.” Lio cringes. “I’m trying to make up for it, okay?” He says as he takes the exit to head more east into town. 

They pull up to their airbnb, which is modern, but still a cozy cottage right on the ocean. They unpack their things, then walk into town to grab lunch at an all day breakfast diner. Lio needs a heavy, protein packed lunch with how hard he has been grinding this season.

“Did you come here as a kid too?” Savannah asks Lio as he looks over the menu in the blue booth.

“Yeah, but usually when we were with the Hischier’s. Mama and auntie had a hard time getting us all to behave when we were together, so we didn’t go to many upscale places.” 

“So basically you and Lucie would act out.” Savannah fills in the gap.

“Mack would too. She was wild as a kid. It wasn’t just us.”

“But mostly.” Savannah gives him a look like ‘don’t even pretend’. 

“Yeah, it was mostly us.” Lio laughs, then thanks the waitress for both of their coffees.

Lio nudges the bowl of cold cream packets towards Savannah. He likes this shitty, slightly burnt diner coffee black. A smirk stays on his lips as he reminisces on his childhood. He knows he is lucky to have grown up the way he did with such a strong family influence surrounding him. He opens his fingers up towards Savannah, taking her left hand in his. He strokes along her massive engagement ring, satisfied with where their life is going. 

“I’m really happy, babe.” He murmurs to her, then drags his gaze up her body to her stunning blue eyes that still make his heart skip a beat when they’re looking at him. 

“Me too.”

“I can’t wait to marry you.” He smirks.

“Make an honest woman out of me?”

“I think by marrying you, I’m doing the opposite.”

“You’ve cleaned yourself up quite nice, Mr. Meier. I’m proud to be your wife.”

“Only cause I had a good girl on my side.” He strokes his fingers up her forearm, watching the goosebumps that form along her skin at his gentle touch.

“Maybe I’ll be your good girl tonight too.”

“Better be. Didn’t bring you all the way down here to not get lucky.” 

“You’ll be very lucky by the end of this weekend.” She assures him. She grabs his fingers, bringing his wrist up to her mouth. She kisses his pulse, then moves to the side so she can suck some of the meat on his arm into her mouth. 

“You don’t need to eat, right?” He asks her, eyes smoldering across the table like he wants to toss her over his shoulder and walk back. She chuckles.

“I assure you I am hungry.” Lio groans, but so does his stomach, reminding him of the fuel he needs to take care of her the way he wants.

With that in mind, they both order. Savannah gets a classic breakfast- eggs, bacon and a pancake- while Lio gets steak and eggs with a side of hash browns. As she eats her first few bites, Savannah’s mind wanders back to Lio as a child, running through this restaurant with his siblings and cousins, probably driving their mamas crazy. Savannah thinks about how wiggly and impatient Stella Wood has been since she met her. She laughs outwardly.

“What?” Lio asks around a bite.

“Just thinking about how crazy it would be if Stella and our kid was tearing up this place like y’all used to.” Lio pauses mid-chew, looking over his fiancé to check in on how he should react. “I’m okay that we aren’t going to have that.” She says to him truthfully. “I like quiet breakfast with you- here or in bed. And getting to take naps in the afternoons whenever we want to and changing plans last minute to fly somewhere for a two day getaway.” She takes another bite, then continues after she swallows. “This journey has been so hard, Lio. Really hard and a lot of it really is stemming from how bad the physical pain has been. It’s made the emotional pain that much worse.” He nods in understanding.

“It’s exhausting to be in that much pain, babe. Especially with how little the world understands about how debilitating internal conditions can be.” Lio certainly understands that after his past concussion issues.

“Yeah. I feel so at peace right now. I want to live in the joyful moments that we are having without the anger and frustration of the things we are never going to have. Living there means I won’t ever live comfortably in the present. I don’t want to miss a moment of our life because of things I can’t change.” Lio drops his fork, grabbing her hand again and giving it a squeeze.

“I love you, babe. I’m so inspired by you. The way you have been handling all this is admirable. I wanna be as resilient and reflective and accepting as you.” Lio murmurs, then kisses her hand. 

“I was none of these things before you.” Savannah tells him honestly. “You’ve changed me too, Lee.” He smiles, a slight tilt up to the right corner of his mouth. “I believed I was broken and weak. Through the last year, you’ve shown me how strong and whole I am by loving me in every moment, even when I didn’t want to love me. You didn’t advocate to those specialists because you wanted to fix me. All you wanted was to give me back the life Endo had been taking from me.” 

“You’re perfect, baby.” He reminds her as he always does. “All I care about is going through life with you by my side. Everything else is just noise.” 

Savannah grins, then releases his hand so they can both go back to eating.

“Good. Now hurry up and eat. I wanna be your dessert.” 

- - -

March 

“Brrr!” Savannah exclaims as her and Lio shimmy into the lobby of Lucie and Connor’s high-rise condo building in Greenwich Village. “It’s supposed to be spring.” She grumbles as Lio leads them to the bank of elevators. 

“Yeah, what the hell is that?” He mumbles, a shiver rolling his shoulders up tight towards his ears for a moment.

“We should go back to Florida. Sweating my ass off at Disney was better than this.” She mentions, referring to their Allstar vacation from last month with the Woods.

“Your hair was so cute down there. You should do it curly like that more.” He chuckles, throwing an arm around her waist to pull her in for a smooch. “Smelled like coconut every day too. Reminds me of the Bahamas.” Savannah moans in appreciation as Lio sucks a slice of her neck into his mouth.

“Now that was a good trip.”

“Kid free too.” He chuckles against her wet skin.

They love their niece, but having their vacation determined by her schedule is not Lio’s favorite way to unwind in the middle of the season. Savannah and Lio already decided they were going to do their own thing for next Allstar break, granted that Lio isn’t actually at the Allstar game next year. This year the festivities were in Florida, which allowed them for a few extra days in Orlando with the Wood’s. Next year is in Seattle. Not quite the same experience.

“The way Stella kept getting you to do the tea cups with her though. That was so cute, babe.”

“I still feel like I’m spinning from that. I don’t know how she was so normal about it.”

“Stella is always twirling around in her own little world. Of course she was fine!” 

The elevator opens on the floor of the Wood’s condo, so Lio and Savannah step out.

“Are Mack and David coming today?”

“No.”

“They hate us?”

“I don’t know. They’ve been shut-ins since Mack returned from Turcs.” Lio gives Savannah a look. 

“I want their life.”

“No you don’t.” Lio laughs. “They’re crazy.” 

They get to the familiar steel door. Lio knocks briefly before grabbing the handle, opening it and walking into the apartment.

“Uncle Lee Lee!” Stella screams as she launches herself head first into his legs. Lio braces himself, putting a hand where it is needed most to avoid the direct head butt to his jewels. 

“Stelly!” He shouts back, swooping her up once it is safe to do so. “How is my favorite Wood?”

“Annnnnnd no steak for Uncle Lee.” Connor jokingly notes at the door where he is wearing his heavy duty, canvas cooking apron. He adjusts the leather neck strap as the couple walks in.

“Steak, eh?”

“Big ol’ Porterhouses for us.” 

“Nice.” Lio grins, bumping knucks with him as he walks into the apartment with Stella. Savannah has already floated in, bringing the two bottles of wine in for her and Lucie to get started on. 

“Good! I brought red wine!” Savannah announces. 

“Can I have some?” Stella asks, never wanting to be excluded ever, even from adult things. Stella and Lio come to rest next to Savannah with Lio leaning a hip into the counter beside her.

“No, silly.” Savannah chuckles, swiping her index finger down the little girl’s nose. “But I did bring you a special drink too.” Savannah pulls out the pink lemonade from Trader Joe’s that Stella loves along with a glittery pink tumbler she had to grab for her from Target’s $5 section.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Can I have some right now?! Mommy please!” Lucie looks over her shoulder from where she is putting together the salad. 

“Sure, baby.” She agrees. 

“Luc, you are working so hard. You absolutely need wine right now.” Savannah exclaims.

“I’m sticking with water tonight.” Lucie chuckles. “But feel free to have a little extra in commiseration with all this hard work I’m doing over here.”

“Yeah, working real hard over here now.” Connor teases as he struts into the kitchen. He pats Lucie’s butt, then kisses her cheek until she turns to kiss his lips. They linger there together, smiling into their kiss like they’re the only ones here. “She forgot to mention the nap she was taking before you two said you were on your way.”

“I am doing important work, Cap.” Lucie swats at his hip as he walks away.

“Yeah, you were the one keeping Stella in line earlier, with drool dripping off your face.”

“Look, she mostly takes after you, so you should have to deal with her.” Lucie grabs the bowl, walking it over to the table. 

“Yeah, sure that rebel phase you had doesn’t show up in our daughter at all. Speaking of taking after me, we better get you into something more comfortable to eat. Otherwise we’re gonna spill all over this pretty dress, huh?” Connor says to Stella, picking her up. 

“No, I’ll be good!”

“You know the rules, baby.” Connor nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck, making Stella squeal at the facial hair tickling her soft skin. They disappear down the hall, Stella’s giggles following the entire way.

“So how are you guys?” Lucie asks as she washes her hands in the island sink. 

“Good! We’ve been busy.”

“I know! I can’t believe we haven’t seen you since Florida.”

“It has been crazy. I have had so many brand meetings and content to film. Plus, Lio was on the road for almost two weeks.”

“Do you miss it?” Lucie asks, walking to where the wine glasses rest in the bar by the dining room table. She comes back with a glass for Savannah

“No way. I like sleeping in my own bed way too much.” Savannah says after pouring herself a bit of wine. “Do you want some?” She asks her husband already knowing his answer.

“No.”

“Lee, do you even drink anymore?” Lucie asks genuinely.

“Not really.” Lio shrugs.

“He will have whiskey when we are out to a fancy dinner, but otherwise, no. I don’t even see you drink beer with your dad anymore.” Savannah says, rubbing at Lio’s back as she talks. He puts a hand on the back of her chair, enclosing her into his body, right where he likes her.

Out of her room, Stella comes running down the hallway to the three adults. Her dad trails behind casually with his hands in his pockets. 

“Look at me! Look at me! I have something to tell you!” Stella yells at her aunt and uncle. 

“Oh, well okay then.” Savannah laughs, turning her legs towards Lio to see her. Lio turns towards the little girl too, taking in her new outfit. She has on jeans, bright purple socks and a pink t-shirt with glittery, bold letters that spell out her new title: Big Sister.

Savannah freezes. Lio fingers drift from the back of the chair to squeeze her left shoulder, even as he grins down at their niece. A silent announcement that he is here for her in this moment.

“What does your shirt say!?” He exclaims. Stella screeches excitedly, then bounces up and down.

“BIG!!!!! SISTER!!!!!!” 

“And that’s you!?” He pokes her belly, making her collapse forward, hands on her belly button as she laughs so hard she can barely breathe.

“YEAH! Mommy is having a baby!”

Unexpected buzzing rings through Savannah’s ears as she attempts to stay grounded in the moment. Her hand falls from around Lio’s waist as he swoops Stella up onto his hip again, giving her a big hug. Savannah’s eyes trail away from Stella to Connor who is sharing an adoring look with his wife. Savannah turns to look at Lucie, the mom to be again, who is holding out an ultrasound picture to place in Lio’s extended hand.

And it hits Savannah all over again, as overwhelming as the first time she felt this.

Her and Lio will never get to have this moment in the other direction.

They will never get to hold up an ultrasound picture with their baby growing in Savannah’s body. 

They will never get to cheer and hug and cry excitedly with them about their baby. It will always be someone else’s. 

Never. Hers. 

A tidal wave of grief Savannah hasn’t experienced in a long time rushes at her. A sob gets caught in her throat. Stella looks over Lio’s shoulder at her, confused.

“Auntie! Did you see!?” Instinctually, Savannah nods, licking her lips. Her eyes drift to Lio and there it is: the pity. And the worry. And the ‘are you okay?’ In his eyes that makes her want to throw up. She looks away quickly. 

“I’m…” Lucie starts then fades off, looking at Lio with concern. “I’m sorry, I know this is probably hard to hear for you. We wanted to tell you privately in consideration…”

“No! What? No, absolutely not! Please don’t apologize. I am so happy for you! We are so happy for you! That’s all I feel right now. So happy.” She finishes with a whisper, rounding the counter to give Lucie a hug. The two women collapse together. Lucie hugs Savannah hard, making it increasingly difficult for Savannah to keep all of her feelings locked away in her chest.

“You’re okay?” Lucie asks quieter, just between the two of them.

“Stop worrying about me. Congratulations! When are you due?” 

“September 3rd.”

“Long, hot summer mama.” Savannah smiles like she can relate somehow. But she can’t and won’t.

“Yeah. I didn’t learn from last time.” 

“How are you feeling?”

“I was so sick until about a week ago. Still tired though. And then as you saw, I have the best support system in my husband, so loving and wonderful, as he makes fun of me for it!” Connor laughs.

“You know I’m teasing you, baby.” 

“I grow his child; he gives me crap for sleeping…” Lucie smirks, watching as Connor narrows his eyes at her.

“You know I take care of you.” He says, pressing his palms flat on the stone of their kitchen island. He sets his gaze on her, challenging his wife to say otherwise in front of company. 

“Yes, you do. Couldn’t do this without you.” She murmurs truthfully. 

“I should have brought champagne.” Savannah says, then looks down at her glass of red wine to continue collecting herself. 

“How about when she is born you bring me some in the hospital? Sneak it in for me.” Lucie smiles assuringly at her. 

“Another girl?” Lio gapes at Connor. “You are so fuc- well you know what.” Lio corrects himself to avoid having to pay up to Stella’s Swear Jar. Connor widens his eyes and nods. He holds up two fingers then circles towards Lucie. Yeah two Lucie’s will be an exciting life for the Wood’s.

The group moves forward, discussing the various topics that come up when you find out a new baby is joining the pack. Mack, David, and Sophie don’t know yet, so Lio and Savannah agree to keep it quiet until told otherwise. Savannah tries to participate in the daydreaming about what is to come for their little family, but her heart isn’t in it.

It’s on the floor, shattered like glass, ready for another round of glue and duct tape whenever she can gather the courage to put herself back together again.

[ghostedeabha]

more random cod headcanons

tw: mentions of self harm, references to OG ghost backstory, angst :)

141 tried to do group therapy together

but they ended up making the therapist cry and the four of them had to awkwardly comfort the therapist

ghost hates therapy with a passion but goes anyway

soap did the tide pod challenge

price lost it at him in the med bay when he found out

"johnny it's a plastic capsule of LAUNDRY DETERGENT!"

"yummy colours🥰"

ghost used to sh on his face

love how i just give yall a bunch of sweet stuff and then BOOM ANGST HEADCANON outta nowhere :)

i feel like he suffers from severe facial dysmorphia, especially after covering his face for so long

sweet pie gang: soap, könig, price

savoury pie gang: ghost and gaz

couldnt care less, just likes pie: horangi

ghost hates coffee but pretends to like it to seem cool (he's actually drinking coffee crisp hot chocolate)

horangi listens to ayesha erotica

he is also a RAGING bisexual (strong lean towards men)

laswell refers to the 141 as her boys, she loves to embarrass them like a mom would

soap and ghost are ATTROCIOUS at cooking

price is pretty good at it, can make quite a lot but struggles with a few harder recipes (and also somehow cannot make instant noodles)

gaz is a GOD in the kitchen but he hates cooking

soap is not allowed in the kitchen alone, once set the kitchen in fire trying to get a glass of water

awkward day on base when that happened

"sorry, can't go into the kitchen, the explosions specialist set it on fire trying to get a drink"

soap listens to classic rock and metal only (and katy perry but he will never admit it)

gaz listens to (shocking literally everyone on the team) music from the 40's, 50's and 60's. he listens to some modern music but he just ADORES the vintage music, especially jazz.

gaz and soap also like therapy

like genuinely enjoy it

gaz has to hype himself up before his appointments though

soap hypes the therapist up

price is neutral, he'd prefer to just smoke and drink to deal with his problems but understands that talking about them with a professional is the best option

ghost, as mentioned before, hates therapy with a burning passion but goes anyway

mostly because he knows he will be put on probation if he doesn't

but also because he knows that he needs the help even if he doesn't want to admit it

also after one of his first month of going to all his appointments that month without skipping one at all, price told simon he was proud of him and now he uses that as motiva to go to his appointments

price knows how to use technology in the weirdest ways

can operate a drone but cannot for the life of him figure out QR codes

a pretty decent hacker but do NOT ask him what any text slang aside from "lol" and "lmao" is. he does not know.

doesn't know that emojis have different meanings depending on context

once said "simon's in the hospital😭" i the TF141 group chat, gaz and soap thought that he was laughing at simon

soap got arrested in croatia on a mission once because he committed arson

kate had to bail him out and he got an earful on being a pyromaniac and arsonist

price just told him to restrict his fire setting to the battlefield

valeria has a medusa tattoo, it's under her chest on her sternum (iykyk)

ghost was tempted to get a medusa tattoo but decided against it because he views it more as a symbol of strength for women (really afab/fem aligned in general) who have suffered through that kind of assault and that it would be wrong to take that from them

he got a tattoo inspired by medusa instead

ghost has his on his hip

he was orginally going to get it on his left ribcage but when the artist was placing the stencil he almost had a panic attack and they both decided a different placement would be better

könig has tattoos for his siblings and his mother (mama's booooyyyyy🗣️)

ghost also has tattoos for his mother, tommy, joseph and even one for beth

is there a male version of a barracks bunny?

because that's horangi, that man is fucking EVERYONE or getting fucked, depends on his mood that night

idk i feel like sometimes they all watch like family guy or bob's burgers together sometimes during their downtime

soap's fav bob's burgers character is gene

price's is teddy

gaz's is tina

ghost's is both louise and bob

könig's is linda

horangi's is mort and kuchi kopi

[bunnyseahorse-blog]

I don’t feel like my therapist is listening, so I fired him, and I don't even feel bad.

I have half a dozen serious mental illness diagnosis and medical issues. When I applied for disability I was approved in three months (usually takes longer from what I'm told) and almost immediately moved from their metaphorical “she might get better” to “she’s going to be receiving benefits for life” pile.

The doctor I saw from age 7 to 30 advised me not to drive because of my condition that causes me frequent fainting.

She suggested I not live alone because I have delusions, mood swings and sometimes need to be hospitalized. I saw this doctor for 23 years, and also went to other specialists that agreed with her. I saw her until she was retired.

My general doctor says that even though I am overweight she is pleased with my glucose and cholesterol levels. My old, and also my new psychiatrists agreed with her.

My parents say I can live with them and have support. They are actually creating an expansion on the house so I can live on my own sort of and still have them nearby. My eldest sibling is inheriting the house when my parents die and they will rent to me until I die. We don't always get along, but I am trying, and we are navigating our unique dynamic so we can make it work.

This new therapist I’ve been seeing keeps insisting I go off disability, get a job, move out of my family’s house, live alone, and lose weight. Because I’m too old to “mooch off my parents.” He made comments from the get go about my weight. I am overweight yes, but he's not a doctor or nurtritionist. I am not experiencing any health issues because of my weight, which is partly due to my medical conditions and my meds. He made a comment once that i should show some pride in myself and not wear a beanie to sessions "do something nice with my hair." He told me once my shoulders looked smaller and I must be doing better. I was thinking.... do I have fat shoulders too??

I am going to a session today to explain to him nicely that he needs to let me set my own goals, and also educate him on how my life really is. I don’t think therapists should require educating. If he doesn’t get it, I’m leaving the session but I’m giving it a shot anyways.

I’m scared and I’m angry. Wish me luck? I don't want to be a project for him. I want to talk about things in sessions that i need to, not what he considers on his own agenda.

EDIT: I went to the session and voiced my concerns about he got a little defensive, but eventually seemed to see what i was saying and switched his focus to what I told him my goals were. However... I wanted a therapist to help me work through my abandonment issues and trauma, not a life coach to push me. I think i might find someone with a different focus is good. (plus him getting defensive isn't a great sign to me) he also insinuated that my little sister, who he has heard off, never met and never examined, is mentally handicapped because of one of her birth parents. We've had her tested, and everyone seems to be saying she's very sharp and doesn't have what her birth mom has. He also asked what my doctor of 23 years even did for me. I was like... diagnosed me with everything I have? Oh but according to him, diagnoses aren't relevant. I have a condition similar to schizophrenia, and yes you should know if you have that....

Also... I signed something saying he could have access to the last notes of my previous therapist, since I have extensive history but he apparently never got it, never told me he didn't get it, and wants me to go through the process again. I feel like the office dropped the ball, because I signed it already.

I think it might be time to move on... I canceled my next appointment. I feel like I should be able to find someone who listens better, and is there to help me, not fix me into things I am not capable of. Having him insist I am wrong and lazy for excepting my limitations, after the long grieving process that came with becoming permanently disabled at 26, has been upsetting, because I keep doubting myself, even though I know I have done the right things.

[the-torchwood-magician]

So I have problems with my ears. Ever since I was a kid.

(Just fyi trigger warning for medical neglect)

Every pediatrician said there's nothing in my ears. My parents would get me checked once or twice with each new pediatrician (depended on where we lived) and after would say to stop being dramatic, there's nothing in your ears.

When I was 9, I had an ear infection. My ear was drained, I was put on antibiotics and was fine. When I was 16 and 17 (I had my birthday partway through), I had another ear infection. I think it was some bacteria from the pool that got stuck in my ear and caused an infection. Unfortunately, the day it started was our second last day on summer vacation when we were in Florida and at that point we lived in NJ. It hurt so bad to the point that when the tip of the corner of my quilt brushed against it my ear throbbed with pain, and it took three advil and three Tylenol to make a dent in pain suppression. When we got home we had three weeks to school and I was ignored in favor of prepping for the school year. "Stop being dramatic and take some otc pain meds, your ear will be fine." Nope. It trailed down to my jaw so that my mouth and ear hurt, and it took over a month for the pain to go away. (By that time I had my birthday and started senior year.)

Cue January 2023. I'm living in Canada atp, my parents are cut off, I have a new gp. All good so far. Except my ear pain starts getting worse and more consistent. Eventually I bring it up to my gp, and we think at first it's an ear infection again. Ear gets drained and re-examined. Ear canal is red, tympanic membrane is bulged a bit and we dunno why. For now the pain is mainly in my right ear.

As time goes on it's in both ears and painful as fuck. I get referred to an audiologist. Get diagnosed with misophonia and sensitive hearing, and told not to wear headphones or earplugs, but she doesn't know what's causing the pain and I need to see an ENT specialist. Fine. A referral is sent out and denied. Referral number two is sent out and ignored. Referral number three is sent out. I'm waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

Pain worsens. On some days I'm crying because it hurts so badly. Occasionally the pain trails down my jaw and throat and hurts there too. I go in for another check-up and get seen by the nurse this time. I tell her it hurts so badly sometimes that the pain makes it itchy. She checks my ears, there's nothing there. This is about Feb 2024.

Nurse confirms with my gp what to do. Gp gives me a prescription for ear psoriasis cream. I feel like screaming.

There's nothing in my ears, why are you giving me something to treat what's not there?

I know what ear psoriasis looks like, my sibling had it, I do not.

Were you even listening to me? I said the pain caused the itchiness, not that there was itchiness causing pain

I've been in pain since childhood, it's not magically going to be ear psoriasis at age 19. Jfc. And I thought you were helpful finally

I emailed my gp as politely as I could about my prescription. She said to try it anyway. 🤦 This lady is not listening!

I got rid of the prescription. I never filled it.

Sometime in April or May 2024 I get a phone call from an ENT office. I finally have an appointment. When is it? Mid December .

FUCK

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to finally have an appointment. But I've had this pain since I was 6. I'm going to be 21 by the time I have my appointment. 15 years I'll be waiting for a specialist's input. I feel like screaming.

And the worst part? The reason the first ENT specialist denied my referral was because I did some research and figured out what it might be (geniculate neuralgia). If I hadn't been denied I probably could have been seen already 😭

Why are medical professionals like this?

[lady-wildflower]

I gotta get this out of my brain or it's gonna fester.

Anyone who says anything to the effect of social support systems enabling lazy people who just want a nice lazy lifestyle, or who harps on beneficiary-bashing policy and deciding that we're bottom feeder leeches who need more scrutiny or we'll lie to get money, needs to fuck off and preferably go die in a hole. The experience of trying to get taken seriously as someone with invisible disabilities in even Aotearoa New Zealand's system is dehumanising at best and if I could go to someone else or find something else I would in a heartbeat.

For the last several months I've been trying to move from Jobseeker with medical exemption (which the previous National Party government put almost all disabled clients on and their new government intends to attack anyone on "Jobseeker" if they're not jobseeking despite it being THEM who made it completely incorrectly named) onto the Supported Living Payment, which is the only other option for disabled people. Trouble is, our outgoing left-wing government never fixed that whole problem the Nats made and the criteria for being on the Supported Living Payment, ie the poverty-level scraps afforded those deemed worthy, seems to be that if you're not dying, fuck you.

So my case gets sent to a bureaucratic panel of people I've never met, never will meet, and who know almost nothing about me, who might just be tired after a long day and can't be bothered dealing with anything complicated, whose job it is to decide if I'll be able to afford to get by when I move out.

Oh, and the system has never been properly managed or funded so basic shit like letting me know I needed to give them more information didn't happen until I phoned them after three months of waiting. So I did as best I could, except of course the public health sector is strained at best and no referral for someone who doesn't need in-home care or something is ever going to be taken. So I had to basically get bootleg diagnosis of autism from an only tangentially related youth specialist. Then they needed me to sign a form letting them talk to said specialist and send in a letter explaining to them why I think I'm worthy of support. Got nothing back from that.

Yesterday, I went in for an appointment to figure out shit like moving out. Because y'see, it's almost impossible to afford to on Jobseeker, even with the unintuitively named Temporary Support Payment which I'll be able to get if I get rid of two thirds of my savings. Case worker was twenty minutes late, which was a pretty indicative sign I'd say. And while it wasn't the subject of that appointment, the transfer to SLP came up, so it was discussed briefly.

Before I could even finish my sentence trying to explain to the case worker how my combination of anxiety and autism disable me, the case worker interrupted me and condescended to me over 'everyone has that' style shit before I could even try to explain the difference, and condescended about how everyone deals with that and how can it possibly stop me from working. Remember that severe anxiety as well as autism? Yeah, killer combination, welcome to meltdown town, because that woman had just indicated she was never going to take me seriously, never going to listen to me, would always attempt to gaslight and nitpick me of my life experience in order to find an excuse to deny me support, and my entire financial future depends on my being taken seriously. I couldn't talk for almost the entire remaining appointment, was crying and hoping the snot wouldn't stain my mask visibly, and I had to try to communicate over text by showing her my notes app and try to salvage it.

Obviously, not possible because that's incredibly slow. I was able to show her a maximum of two sentences over that method the entire appointment. What she resorted to was 'okay, I'll send you the questions the SLP team have over email and you can reply to the email via text okay?' Which, credit where credit's due, that's not a bad impulse. That's about the only good thing.

So I go home, stressed and on the verge of bursting into tears the entire time on the bus, and when I get home I write out a long reply email explaining my difficulties, explaining my reaction and asking that she please use it as an example of my fragility to the team, and answering the four questions in as much detail as I could, all with a headache, stressed, still on the verge of tears, and physically disoriented by how overwhelming it all is.

I got a reply to the email today. Decision made. And I learned through a forwarded email whose sender couldn't be bothered punctuating it properly or using my name instead of just calling me "client" (not even the client, just "client") that I will not be moved to SLP, that these fucking CUNTS think my severe anxiety and autism might just go away so I need to get a medical certificate for it every three months to prove my brain hasn't spontaneously started working properly, oh and they asked the case worker to refer me on to a supported employment service despite me telling them over and over that under almost no circumstances would I be capable of working and that even if I did get put into work I wouldn't be able to take basic care of myself at the same time.

I have never in my life felt so dehumanised, not listened to, and reduced down to a few check boxes and some questions those fucks obviously didn't even read. That's all I am to them, and they can't be assed to even use my name or use proper grammar in the correspondence referring to my entire life situation that hinges on their goodwill. I fucking WISH I wasn't dependent on this disgusting, dehumanising, soul-crushing system. I WISH WINZ had competition, so they'd have to treat people like people or they'd go to someone else. I fucking WISH that this system wasn't designed to press everyone even remotely possible into the workforce no matter how harmful it is because their guiding star is that if you're not productive you're barely worthy of a sub-poverty support payment so you can eat - and it might not even be enough for that if you want a roof over your head at the same time, because we've got a combined housing crisis that's lasted a decade now and a cost of living crisis.

Anyone who thinks we need more scrutiny can get fucked.

You know what else I wish? I wish I was physically disabled. It's just like with the emotional abuse I suffered under my parents. They never did anything more than slap me, which wasn't illegal at the time. I don't have a single scar, or notable bruise, or anything. All I have is a broken mind which didn't even have the decency to properly record it all, so instead I end up with memory problems and the inability to even properly explain it. Nothing to point to and say 'look, that's it.' It's the exact same with this. I can't prove a single fucking iota of it. I can't get a single bit of it taken seriously. Because IT'S ALL IN MY FUCKING HEAD. ALL OF IT. I FUCKING WISH I HAD A SINGLE CRUMB OF PROOF, EVEN THE TINIEST THING TO POINT TO AND SAY 'LOOK. YOU CAN SEE I'M BROKEN.' BUT NO.

I have so much fucking anger in me, but most of all for my own existence (and second for the disdainful evil of the social support system). Why did I have to be handed the fucking defective brain, but one that's just broken enough to ruin my ability to be a functioning human being, and not broken enough for anyone in a position to help to believe me and take me seriously? I'm sitting here feeling like every single other person I've met got a handbook on how to be human but I didn't get mine and meanwhile this condescending fuck of a case worker is going on about how everyone has schedules.

Why do I have to be dependent on people who have a disdain for the concept of people like me existing, to whom I can't explain or prove anything about why I need their support, people who think my permanent broken brain shit might go away in three months, but whose support I will always need. There's no room for hope or humanity in these systems for us. Frankly, it's a marvel I'm not suicidal.

[strigital]

hey there, handsome beans. how are y'all?

bet y'all were wondering where tf Meg's gone again. to make long and complicated story short: a few physical illnesses followed by a severe mental crysis followed by more sickness followed by more mental problems. there was, among other things, an autistic breakdown which as we know doesn't go away easily. i will be severely honest with you guys. i do not know how i am still alive, given how horribly suicidal some of these days are. i suppose having pets does make a difference - no matter how selfish the suicidal ideation is it never manages to overpower the motherly need to love and protect these small creatures that so wholly depend on you not just for food, water and shelter, but for companionship as well… Belle, despite having only been out of shelter for like three moths, has been working her little butt off trying her damnest to convince me that i am needed: from following me everywhere like a shadow to crying like a child whenever there's a closed door between us… anyways, what was i talking about? ah yes… the horrific state both my mind a body ended up in. i honestly have no idea where this all came from. it was like one day it was sunny and calm and the next morning i woke up in the aftermath of a severe hurricane, ruin and corpses all around me. perhaps it was all brewing for a long time and i simply failed to notice the telltale signs. after all, there's no smoke without fire. there must've been a trigger. a final drop, a straw that broke the camel's back. sometimes it felt like a horror film, full of terrible thoughts and feelings that paralise you in a fetal position in the corner of your bed and keep you there hostage for days on end. some other days there would be flashes of unexplainable happiness that lasted barely a few hours and left you feeling panicked. most days there would be this prevailing feeling of numbness that wouldn't allow you to eat, let alone take care of daily chores. i've been having severe nightmares. i've plunged my body into a state of starvation. i've turned my home into a horror house of dirt and clutter. i'm failing behind in college and my boss at work is extremely unhappy with my productivity. i've lost ability to feel time: days muddle together, all i ever feel is a desire to sleep all the fucking time.

worst of all is that i cut contact with my closest people, among them - my dearly beloved husband, who still fights cancer on the other side of the planet, wondering where his useless wife gone. i've decided that it would be better for all of them, especially my hubby, to not see me in this condition. that the best i can do for them is to remove myself from their already busy lives and free them from any heartache i may cause, me being out of my mind and all. i did, however, used the very last of my strenght to reach out, to try and call for help… the suicide prevention line was a fucking joke that left me even more desperate than i was before i contacted them. i did, however, join a local autistic group on facebook and lurked there quietly, absorbing their experiences and sifting through for any sliver of hope. and i foud it. a doctor, who may just be the only specialist on adult autism in this entire country. getting an appointment with her was a small war in of itself. and she will cost me a lot of money… but as of right now i feel like she is the only person who can pull me off of the edge, before i tumble over and plummet into the abbyss. 29th of november i will sit my ass on a train and ride to another city to meet her. i pray to whatever will listen that she will take me seriously because neither my current psychiatrist nor my psychologist do. anyone i tried talking to these past two months on the matter of my crisis never offered me any help, only useless advice like "you should talk to a priest" or "have you tried reading a self-help book?". i'm drowning over here, karen, a priest and a book will only be of use during my funeral… the meds have become useless, even when i double or triple dosage.

most of all my heart aches for my husband. he tried calling me a few times yet i was too broken and lost in the dark to even have the courage to call back. i know i have no right to scream for help to a person who had been at war with a third stage cancer for almost three long difficult years. but i am teethering on the edge. i feel like that tiny hedghehog from an old soviet cartoon - lost in a thick fog, calling out for someone, anyone, looking for a way out. and the fact that no one understands or tries to understand hurts even more. the only one's who do are those anonymous people on facebook, fighting similar battles to mine. and when i read a letter from an anonymous mom who, like me, reached her breaking point and cut off any contact with her family in preparation for a final act and she only writes on facebook to find someone, anyone, to tell her what she truly needs and wants to hear in order to swerve off of this path of self-destruction i cannot help but feel an odd likeness to hope. i am not alone. but these people, those like me, simply do not exist within an arm's reach… god almighty, i so so hope the doctor will fix me. i am so tired waking up everyday with a desperate desire to die and walking all day with an invisible noose on my neck which only grows tighter every day.

i will go now and try to record a longwinded voice message for my husband… again. i will try my bestest to apologise, to try to explain, to ask for help. but how do you even begin to explain that your life so suddenly, so abruptly and seemingly our of nowhere became an open bleeding rotten sore, that only grows everyday, infecting more and more of your soul? i don't know. i never had this kind of crisis before in my life and, as if by some cruel divine joke, right now i have no family, no friends to turn to, beside my cat and my dog.

i will not ask of you to pray for me nor wish me luck. y'all have your own busy, messy lives. i only ask that you take care of yourself and your loved ones, so nothing like that ever happens to you or them. trust me when i say that no one will believe you, because this wound is invisible. they will tell you to feel grateful for having two arms and two legs and a roof over your head. meanwhile you will slowly rot away until one day they'll gasp: "how did this happen? they were such a happy person, nothing was wrong in their lives!" that's so fucking unfair, but it is the world we live in. and i know that oversharing like this on the internet is an incredibly stupid thing to do, but… i don't know. maybe another person with similar hardships in their life will read this and realise that they are not the black sheep of the human species and that shit like that happens to others too. i know this thought brings some very mild comfort to me, so maybe it will also brings some to them.

so stay strong, my beans. god knows i'm trying to. love you all and, hopefully, see you in the near future again with memes and stuff,

-- Meg K.

[billgenbrough]

I got a letter in the mail to remind me to schedule an appointment with a specialist because they told me to schedule an appointment for a year out. How about NO, bitch

Bro sucked so bad. Did a cortisol test, said my cortisol was fine, and refused to test my reproductive hormones. He literally told me, "Your gynecologist can keep giving you medications."

1. I'VE NEVER SEEN A GYNCOLOGIST. The meds were from my old PCP to give me a jumpstart on treatment because she knew it would take a few months to get into the endocrinologist. He would know that if he actually listened to me or looked at the fucking referral.

2. THE REFERRAL WAS FOR HIM TO CHECK MY REPRODUCTIVE HORMONES. I've had symptoms of high testosterone since I started puberty, but most doctors brushed it off until I saw my old PCP in the summer of 2023. She took one look at my noted symptoms and decided she would treat me for possible PCOS. She referred me to the endocrinologist because she (the PCP) was actually only a NP and thought he could help more (spoiler: he didn't)

3. HE WAS THE FUCKING ENDOCRINOLOGIST. His JOB was literally to check reproductive hormones. What the fuck do you mean you're going to push it off to another doctor?

4. I HAVE AN EXTENSIVE MEDICAL HISTORY OF REPRODUCTIVE ISSUES. Pretty much every woman on my mom's side of the family has had reproductive issues (the majority even had a hysterectomy before the age of 40) and I'm not sure about my dad's side (they don't talk about medical stuff). I feel like if I were to tell a doctor that (handful had cervical cancer, including my mom, and my grandma actually had a uterine tumor for the better part of her life) they should be pretty concerned about the possibility of me having a serious problem.

Sorry for how stupid this post is. Doctors have just been fucking me over practically my entire life. But fuck it, we ball

[sadistic-softie]

Sometimes I need to stop, take a step back, and ask myself, "Am I ok?" and the answer is always, "uuhh?????????"

therapy gets so repetative and exhausting. When am i gonna move on from complaining about the same problems actually get to the helping part? And how many therapists is it gonna take before I get there? I'm on number...7??? 8? 9???? and i hate that every single one of them has been like, ~most therapists go through the notes and records of the patients health conditions and past sessions with other therapists, but I don't like to do that here. I like to start clean and fresh with each patient so I can hear it from them. I have your chart and all your info here, but i just wanna hear if from you~. Because im so cool and all the other therapists suck mega penis~ Like stfu and please read my chart for the love of god i dont need to go through hours of sessions of straight miserable traumadumping every single time i get disconnected from a therapist and have to spend 5 months on the waiting list for a new one. And it's so easy to just get dropped by therapists too. I missed 2 appointments ever? gone. Therapist suddenly vanished from the establishment? We can't replace them! find a whole new place! Your new therapist sucks and just tells you to get over it? Give us a month and we'll see if we can find someone else for you. oopsies! your therapist got fired! Nothing we can do about that! Your therapist forced you into a situation that she knew would put you in danger of abuse? It was her job! FUCK. I literally get better therapy from calling 988, crisis lines, or abuse hotlines for 10 minutes and they're free. Might as well just call THEM on a weekly basis since they ACTUALLY FUCKING HELP YOU WHEN YOU ASK FOR FUCKING HELP. They give you advice, comfort, support, coping mechanisms, distractions, suggestions, resources, ideas, communities, etc etc. Seriously. Therapy, in all my years, barely ever does that shit unless you're on the brink of breakdown because "why is nothing working!?" nothing's working because it's literally nothing being put to work. They're putting nothing machines in your brain factory, and when 'NOTHING' is working, no progress gets made.

Honestly. Sometimes, I feel like maybe I'm just really unlucky with my therapists. I be spilling my soul to them and begging for help and they're just like. "Hmmm...that does seem very difficult...What do you think I can do to help you?" and i just...like..."I don't know??? im not really a mental health specialist??? Like you??????" and they fucking laugh and go, "Well, that is true...hmmmmm, let me think...you seem to be doing everything you cannnn...hmmmm" God, i never show it but tht shit pisses me off so bad. The more times i hear "What do you think i can do to help?" and "Hmmmmmmm" and overly fucking drawn out words, the more 'asshole' and ingenuine it sounds. It sounds like mockery. It sounds like they think I'm a toddler trying to figure out how to manuver their first 4 piece puzzle. They sound like when teachers say "I dunno. Can you?" when you ask if you can use the restroom. Like...Do you think I'm fucking around when I say I don't know what to do? Do you think I just ask for help for shits and giggles? Do you think, "I'm feeling suicidal" is just a quirky little catchphrase? Like, fuck. Just listen to one fucking thing I say. I pay you for this. Just fucking listen to me and hear the words coming out of my mouth and process what they actually fucking mean. I fucking have nobody else and I'm paying you to help me not fucking kill myself and you're gonna fucking sit there, eating cereal, talking about how your 'poor husband' was so shy "just like me" that he didn't make the first move on you when you first met, like this session is about comparing my socially crippling mental condition to a common case of the nerves, acting like you're my casual best friend or acting like this is me learning 2 plus fucking 2 in kindergarden math class with god damn counting blocks and you don't wanna give me too many hints that give the answer away. FUCK. OFF. No fucking wonder your other patients cuss you out. I bet they're soooo lucky to have you like you're sooo lucky that im so god damn polite and articulate. You like that im so articulate, huh? You really get what im saying? How about this next one?: QUIT YOUR JOB.

[madmanrambler]

I am trying to spook a small lizard off my car. My grandmother is watching, with patience but not patiently, as she needs to be taken to the doctor for a procedure. (It is not a surgery. Removing the port that once helped carry chemo drugs into her is not a surgery. It is not scary. I know it is not scary. She does as well. We ignore how we feel.) We are leaving 40 minutes before our arrival to a place that is 20 minutes away. (do not think about my father and how his chronic tardiness made me chronically early. I do not need to delve. It is simply written on me. I do not need to read it.)

I could simply leave the lizard, trust that he will run off as the car rumbles and begins to move. I do not want to risk this poor lizard being caught in something and hurting or dying. My grandmother knows this, which is why she is waiting with patience. I can't find the shock of green under my car anymore. (My favorite color is green. The lizard was a jolly green. I called lizards wizards when I was first learning words and grinned when I said it.) I eventually sigh and get up, unable to find him and aching from a workout the night before. I will have to trust the lizard made the right choice.

We drive in quiet. My music is set to random and played low enough I doubt my grandmother can hear more then white noise. (She is near deaf and refuses a cochlear implant. I have quietly wondered at how I would handle not being able to hear in the manner she can't. It would be survival, but I'm not sure how happily I would live without a cochlear.) We talk, occasionally discussing things. The city we're driving through, it's history and our memories of it. (Do not think about us moving.) We pass a basin that floods every major rain. It is flourishing with wild grass and beautiful trees that stand through floods. (We are moving in the end of the month. Everyone in the family is observing. I am the only one here the make decisions about the move. That does not mean I am the only one allowed opinions [do not think about the move right now] I have been grateful for advice, knowing it is all well intentioned).

We arrive at the appointment. Neither of us remembers the building. I argue that it was during a whirlwind of cancer treatments. She laughs and admits neither of us have ever had the head for remembering places. (We are 15 miles from the house. A massive distance for a small garden lizard. If the lizard is still aboard it has traveled so far, gone miles [do not think about the move] to places it has never seen before.)

I walk my grandmother up to the appointment. The practice has old fashioned chairs, all velvet and wide angled. My grandmother sits in one and sighs. I enjoy her enjoyment quietly. (This has always made our lives livable. This enjoyment of enjoyment. [When was the last time you enjoyed something purely and deeply |DO NOT THINK ABOUT THE MOVE| with your whole heart?] I are happy I can enjoy someone's enjoyment, regardless of how much this has asked of me.) You have to stay in the front while they take her back for the procedure (it is not a surgery, it will be totally fine.)

I sit, and I wait. My music keeps me company as best it can. Others walk in, and settle, and wait. They chat in other languages. (Will the new town have that pleasure of multiple cultures and languages and divergent thoughts all sharing in life? [Is this a safe place to think about the move? All alone. Don't think about it.] I hope I can find those that think differently, no matter how small the town.) I keep my music low, not to listen to their words but to their cadence, their emotions. The tones and colors of their life. The complexities of life that brings you to a vein specialist, all the good and bad.

I sit in this moment, and I think about poetry. About how I love to write it but rarely do. About how I constantly return to the image of my chest filling with blood from a leaking heart. Maybe I'm just a melodramatic little thinker, I think to myself. I curl up in the chair and think about poetry and life as I wait for my grandmother to exit. I suppose I should think about lunch too.

[phawareglobal]

Rosemary Graham - phaware® interview 405

Pulmonary hypertension and lupus patient, Rosemary Graham details her 39 year history navigating multiple rare disorders and  the importance of her faith, self-care and never giving up. My name is Rosemary Graham. I live in Atlanta, Georgia. I have been diagnosed with pulmonary hypertension since 2012. Before that, I was diagnosed with lupus and interstitial lung disease in 1984. Then, in 1985 was diagnosis with polymyositis or myositis, which they're now terming as lupus myositis. I am acquainted with the pulmonary hypertension group because I am a patient. I had a right heart catheterization done last year and my numbers were back up to stage 3. 

In terms of how I got pulmonary hypertension, it was around Christmastime and I had gone to see my rheumatologist. I wasn't feeling good that day. I knew something wasn't right. My breathing was off and everything was off that day and I was slightly dizzy. He and I used to joke around with each other and he listened to my heart and all of a sudden he had a puzzled look on his face. So he checked to the back. He went to the front. He went to the back. He went to the front again. He went to the back again, checking my heart and lungs and chest and everything. When he sat down, he started typing and he looked up at me and he said, "Either you have congestive heart failure or you might have pulmonary hypertension. I need for you when you leave this office, to contact your cardiologist and contact your pulmonologist as soon as possible." Walking to the car, I was calling the pulmonologist's office. I had an appointment the following week. They did a stress test. They did several tests. My pulmonologist came in and I did not know but he was also a pulmonary hypertension specialist. He did a right heart catheterization. I was at stage 3 with pulmonary hypertension.

He immediately put me on medication. I had to increase my oxygen flow. I had to increase my oxygen level up to 8 liters. I have had a myriad of problems. I would say right now probably about between 10 and 11 disorders, everything flowing back to lupus. The pulmonary hypertension came about because of the pulmonary fibrosis or it came from the lupus. The pulmonary fibrosis came from the lupus with interstitial lung disease. My lupus however, is in remission. Praise God, for right now. 

This month marks the beginning of my diagnosis of lupus in February 39 years ago. I had bronchitis to two months where I'd had nothing till a diagnosis of double pneumonia. Then, from double pneumonia I did not get better. I ended up with the diagnosis of lupus and interstitial lung disease. So I have been dealing with chronic illnesses for 39 years.

I've also had cancer. I was diagnosed with endometrial cancer in 2017. I had surgery in January of 2018. It was stage 1, grade 1. The surgery only took maybe less than two hours, but I ended up in ICU after that because of the oxygen and my blood pressure and there was something else that was going down fast. But I knew that I would end up in ICU. I have a friend who is one of my church members who's a nurse that actually worked at that hospital. She was able to get off that day and be with me. So she was watching them do the surgery. She helped me get undressed to prepare me for the surgery. Then when the doctor came and told my cousin and her that they had put me in ICU, she'd take out her badge and she came into the ICU unit just checking to make sure that everything was going okay.

I am single. I am not married. I do not have any children. My parents are deceased. My dad died in '85. My mother died in 2005. I don't have any siblings. All of my aunts and uncles are gone. So now it's just the cousins. So it’s me taking care of me and Jesus. It's Jesus taking care of me. It has been a long road. I have had many blessings, even in spite of what's going on. But in the beginning when I was diagnosed with lupus, I dealt with clinical depression. I am taking an antidepressant right now because I have been dealing with depression. The emotional effects of having a chronic illness for 39 years is now starting to wear on me a little bit in terms of taking medications and seeing doctors and going for lab tests, having blood drawn, but it has also been a blessing.

I was involved in a disability ministry for 24 years. I just retired. I was doing that part-time, working with pastors and leaders on the needs of people with disabilities. It's been a challenge. It has been a challenge. There are days I only allow myself a couple of minutes or a couple of days to be in the pit, but now I challenge myself. I read scripture, listen to inspirational music, look at inspirational videos or listening to sermons or motivational speeches or anything that will uplift me in a very certain way. For those of us that are dealing with rare disorders, I think it's even more of a challenge because of the medications we have to take because of the side effects that come along with those medications. Also, the uncertainty of the disease and whether or not it's progressive and what stage are you in. Even in terms of how you get your rest, your energy levels in terms of how much you get engaged in society, in terms of how much you engage with your family. Whether or not you and most importantly, you taking care of you is the most important thing. Self-care for a patient with rare disorders is a must. 

I have gone through that where my self-care was not good and I was depressed. You may or may not know, depression can cause pain and inflammation and pain and inflammation can cause depression. Finding ways to overcome that, finding ways to step away from that and look for a glimmer, a spark, is what I reach for or grab for. I'm probably sure the other people that have pulmonary hypertension could say the exact same thing. You have to have something that will keep you going. 

I would say don't give up. I can actually hear somebody saying that's what you're saying, but I feel like I can't take no more. I've seen that. I've heard that, I've said that several times. God, I can't take no more. But somewhere in the midst of that though, and that's why I say, you have to have a foundation that can hold you up when you get that low. My faith really did help me. Whether or not you are a Christian or not, you have to have something, a foundation. When you get that low you can say no, there's still something left that I can do. 

When I was diagnosed with lupus and I lost my job, I lost my apartment. I lost a lot of things when I was diagnosed with lupus in '84. I did not know what I was going to do. Because I was connected to a church, the pastor and the members helped me find a house and the pastor actually said, "You know, we don't have a church secretary, so why don't you be our church secretary?" That's where I had a little money coming in. I did go and get all my resources I possibly could until the Lord opened up the door for me to start working as a regional disability ministry director.

I also got involved with the Lupus Foundation. I was a volunteer. I did everything from health fairs to talking to businesses and corporations about lupus. I ended up on the Board of Directors of the Lupus Foundation. I ended up on the Board of Directors for the National Black Women's Health Project. I ended up on the Board of Directors for the Black Women's Health Studies that is still going on between Boston and Howard Universities. I ended up on an advisory committee with Jimmy Carter back in the day. So I became very active in spite of the challenges. We say there is life after lupus so I would say to my friends that there is life after PH. There's life after that. But I will not in any way negate the hardness, the absolute sometimes horror of this disease and other diseases like this that are rare that can take us down quick. 

My name is Rosemary Graham and I am aware that I'm rare. Learn more about pulmonary hypertension trials at www.phaware.global/clinicaltrials. Follow us on social @phaware Engage for a cure: www.phaware.global/donate  #phaware Share your story: info@phaware.com

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[krislivesheresometimes]

I do not have much respect for doctors who screw up a medical diagnosis so badly, then cut and run out on their patients, leaving them with no warning or replacement doctor to continue their care and treatment.

This happened to both my parents and my sister. I warned them that rumors were circulating the hospital and clinic that their neurologist was leaving in a few weeks and that they needed to find a new neurologist. Lo and behold, less than two weeks after I said something, the office was closed and the patients were notified via a sign taped to the inside of the glass door that said neurologist was no longer practicing in the area, and that the office would release their med files to their new neurologist upon request, but that they would have to contact med records at the hospital to start the process.

So my Da was able to get his cardiologist and pulmonologist to recommend him to a neurologist three cities away, but no one in state close could see my sister because they didn’t either specialize with CIDP or they didn’t have the ability (due to distance) to be on call for her if she had a crisis with her CIDP. CIDP is a chronic form of Guillame Barre and has similarly with MS and Miasthinia Gravis.

Needless to say, but that my sister was left on high doses of medications that she couldn’t stop cold turkey because of side effects and severe health risks, nor could she take them without the medication being regulated and lowered or raised by a physician or neurologist who was familiar with both the disease and the medications. 8 months on her own with just a Nurse Practitioner who would just reorder the prescription but couldn’t regulate it properly.

My sister finally found a neurologist who was willing and able to take her as a patient, but they are located in another state, so appointments are far between. She quickly found out two things (much like my Da had earlier)… The first being that she didn’t have CIDP as it was defined, and that her previous neurologist had messed up her medical record to the point that it was illegible and very difficult to decipher exactly what was going on with my sister’s nerves. She did have nerve destitution and inflammation, but it was not demilitating.

That neurologist had barely begun to slow down her meds (which were apparently contraindicated by her symptoms) and combined with the heavy load of stress and anxiety that she has been experiencing, my sister has had a mental breakdown (which they are saying is a complication from the meds she is on, and chronic pain induced depression).

She called my mother in a state of emotional distress in which she threatened suicide, some that my sister would never do in her life, but she was under high stress and anxiety and under the influence of her medication (which is linked to depression and suicidal tendencies). So last night, my sister was placed under psychiatric observation under duress.

All because a doctor decided he knew something no one else could ever know and treated my sister for a disease that she doesn’t have, gas lighted her multiple times during her clinical visits, and then left her with no options for care.

If you have a bad feeling about a pcp or specialist, listen to your instincts. I had tried to get both my Da and my sister to find different neurologists because some of the things he would say didn’t add up. My mother talked to both of them extensively about her bad feelings about this doctor, but neither one was willing to listen. I honestly don’t understand how he can still be legally practicing medicine, as my family is not the only people negatively impacted by this doctor’s actions and treatment.

Just be careful choosing your doctors and praying for my sister and our family.

[angrydemonfawnbaby]

the sauna test remix (part 1/?)

s3 au where steve is working as a lifeguard and spends the whole season trying to save billy hargrove. 

steve’s been driving max and her friends around ever since the snowball dance, so he knows more about her step-brother than he likes to admit. maybe that’s why he is trying so hard to be civil, to be friendly, to be friends, even--because steve doesn’t have good and loving parents, so he knows what it looks like when someone else has bad parents. he sees it in the mirror every day. he sees it on max’s face when she talks about neil hargrove, has started seeing it sometimes when she talks about her own mom. when he takes the time to look hard enough, steve sees it on billy too. the moment he sees it on the other boy, steve can’t stop seeing it. 

(he remembers seeing him in the hall at school after their fight. billy was battered and blue beyond recognition, bruised in places steve knows he never touched him.)

steve is trying to be civil, to be friendly, to maybe even be friends--because steve used to be more like billy than he cares to admit. so he invites billy to hang out at his house after work one day in july and that’s the start of it.

billy never worked morning shifts at the pool because he liked to stay after hours to swim. steve knows this because he forgot his wallet in his locker one day back in early june. he went back to get it that night and saw billy doing laps in the empty pool even though the pool closed hours ago. when steve came out of the locker room, billy was floating like a five point star in the center of the pool, staring up at the night sky. steve didn’t say anything, didn’t want to step on what seemed like a sacred moment, but as he tried to stealthily slip away, billy splashed out of water and saw him. steve froze for some reason. billy just stared at him, like he was waiting for steve to speak first. steve held up his wallet. billy blinked, barely an acknowledgement, and set off to the showers without a second glance. 

but the last week of june, billy walked into the breakroom while steve was sighing over the schedule. heather was hardly listening to him as he mentioned the migraines he’d been suffering from for months now, how he’s been waiting for this specific appointment with some specialist for six months now, how if he reschedules now he’ll be stuck waiting until winter to be seen. heather’s half hidden behind her magazine and only halfway sympathetic as she shrugs, says she wishes she could help but she’s already on for a double that day, best of luck finding someone.

for all the obvious reasons, billy hargrove wasn’t steve’s first choice for coverage. for some reason, he’s the first to offer. 

heather hasn’t looked up from flipping through her fashion magazine once throughout this whole thing. however, the second billy says he’ll swap shifts with steve, heather’s fingers freeze and she finally looks up at the two of them through her lashes like she’s watching a her favorite show. steve stammers out a suspicious thanks that sounds more like a question than anything genuine. billy doesn’t say anything back but scribbles over their names on the schedule and flicks the pen cap at steve before leaving the breakroom. 

steve sits staring into space with a stunned look on his face until heather snaps her gum. she raises an eyebrow at him and there’s a look in her eye--like she’s trying to read his mind and he’s supposed to try to read hers, too. after a second of this, she sits back with a satisfied smirk as if she’s just learned all of steve’s secrets.

for the next week, steve spends way too much of his time wondering about the whys and whether or not this all some sort of scheme. he shows up to the pool that afternoon half expecting to hear that billy bailed this morning just to make him look bad, but there he is. 

he’s up to his waist in the shallow water, trying to convince a kid in his swim class to let go of the ledge. he gets eye level with the little holly wheeler and whatever he whispers to her works. one small hand and then the other leaves the security of wall, trusting billy to keep her safe as he takes her hands in his. steve has seen this before but he still stays to watch until little holly wheeler is laughing, her little legs kick, kick, kicking water up high into the sky. steve stays to watch even though he’s seen this before because billy is beaming and that’s not exactly new either, but it is...something.

maybe that’s why steve says it. they’re in the locker room, steve storing his stuff away for the day while billy gets ready to go home. steve thanks him again even though he knows billy won’t say anything back. ever since the byers, billy doesn’t seem to have a whole lot to say to steve, anymore. 

it shouldn’t matter to steve, it shouldn’t bother him, but it does. steve doesn’t know what billy must think of him after that night, but he knows it can’t be anything good. not after his thirteen year old sister went missing all day only for billy to find her with steve at a strangers house, only for steve to lie right to his face about it. this whole situation, harrington, it’s giving me the heebie jeebies.  steve shouldn’t care what billy hargrove thinks about him, but he does. 

so maybe that’s why he says it, even though he knows billy won’t say anything back. maybe that’s why he keeps talking, even after he’s said thanks for the third time. he tries to sound as casual as he can when he mentions billy missing out on his after hours swim because of him. billy’s eyebrows raise anyway. steve stutters to a stop, starts to reconsider, swipes his hands through his hair and starts over. its not smooth at all. he awkwardly offers up his parents’ pool for billy to use.

steve’s parents are spending the summer somewhere less humid than hawkins. he couldn't get into college, so steve has spent the summer sitting at home alone. he hasn’t had anyone his own age over since he stopped hanging out with tommy hagan. steve hasn’t had friends his own age since then, either. 

so maybe that’s why he invites billy hargrove over to his house. there’s a bar in the basement but if bourban isn’t billy’s thing than steve knows that the beer store off of 8th street doesn’t card anyone who can see over the counter. it starts to sound like a bribe and he’s starting to regret speaking at all when billy agrees. steve knows his surprise shows by the way billy’s smirk goes from bemused to amused. 

billy says he’ll be over at eight. 

steve smiles. can’t wait.

it shouldn’t be a surprise that billy doesn’t show. it shouldn’t hurt, but it does. 

steve drinks his half of the twelve pack he had to pay double price and then he drinks the half that was supposed to be for billy, too. he goes to bed sick and sad and if he cries himself to sleep, it’s not over billy hargroe. or at least, it’s not only over him.

he tries to play it cool at the pool the next day, but steve’s annoyed and hungover and it gets the better of him briefly when he follows billy into the supply closet. he has every intention to finally confront billy about everything, but the second the door swings shut behind him, steve can sense something is off. billy’s body is stiff. his hair is a sweaty mess. he won’t turn around. steve reaches out to touch his shoulder but before he can billy is shoving past him. stay away from me, steve.

it shouldn’t hurt, but it does. it shouldn’t raise alarms, but it does.

steve follows him out and stands at a safe distance while billy stumbles his way to the showers. he doesn’t follow billy in but he leans against a nearby wall, wondering if maybe he’s gotten it all wrong. maybe he is just paranoid now. it would make sense after everything. maybe billy is just sweating because it’s summer. maybe he’s sick. maybe he really just wants nothing to do with steve. it would make sense after everything. maybe steve should just let it go. 

he’s about to walk away when the screaming starts. 

steve finds him soaking wet and sobbing on the shower floor. billy’s bloodshot blue eyes are barely focused. steve knows that something is very, very wrong--even before billy lunges for his throat.

he has experienced billy’s brutality before, but this...this is something else. billy is fueled by fire and by fury but the hands around steve’s neck are cold as ice. there is no light in his eyes as he watches steve struggle to break free, struggle to breathe. there’s no humanity but there is an eerie familiarity. this isn’t billy, this is something else entirely. 

steve can’t breathe. billy has him half-suspended so that steve’s feet are barely touching the floor, held up only by billy’s bare hands around his throat. steve’s vision starts to go and for the second time in his life he thinks that billy hargrove is going to kill him.

and for the second time, steve is saved at the last second by a girl half his size. 

steve doesn’t know how it happens, but somehow it’s him and heather holloway standing over billy’s body. heather is still holding the sharp jagged half of the mop she broke over billy’s head. there’s bright red blood running down the drains. the tiles on the wall are broken and shattered where steve smashed billy’s head against it. 

heather’s eyes are wide. what the fuck? steve leans down to check billy’s pulse. is he dead? heather starts pacing. steve finds a faint rhythm and finds himself sighing in relief. he’s still alive. heather slumps against a shower stall. they have to call ambulance. they have to call the police. steve starts to shake his head but stops. heather is right about calling the police. or specifically, the chief of police.

somehow, steve convinces a shaky and shocked heather to help him get billy into the backseat of his BMW. however, he can’t convince her to leave. heather knows their history. all of hawkins high heard about how they beat each other half to death last year. she’s not letting either of them get the chance to finish the job, not after what she just saw. she doesn’t need that shit on her conscience, so she’s coming with them. to keep an eye on them. the both of them. and she’s bringing her sharp stick with her too, so steve better not get any ideas cause she’s not afraid to use it on him, too.

heather has her back pressed to the passenger door, half turned in the seat so that she can keep line of sight on the two of them. her face is pale. she’s eyeing billy’s bloody face in the backseat. how is he even alive? in the rearview mirror, steve can see a shard of ceramic stuck among blond curls. he should be dead. she looks to steve. he has known heather since middle school and for the first time he hears her voice shake. why isn’t he dead?

steve tells her they can’t go to the hospital. heather looks at him like he’s grown a second head. they can’t go to the police station either. 

they’re going to steve’s house, because steve’s parents have a fireplace in their bedroom and billy’s body is cold to the touch. 

steve has never really understood the hows and whys of the upside down and all that crawled out of it. truthfully, he doesn’t care. all he cares about is that it keeps happening. even now, when it’s supposed to be impossible. eleven closed the gate and that should have stopped it but steve saw the look in billy’s eyes and he’s watching the split skin on billy’s forehead slowly stitch itself back together so what else could it be. steve doesn’t understand much about the upside down, but he does know that it’s cold. that he likes it cold. 

he gives heather the chance to leave again when they get to his house. she glares at him. she doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, but she’s staying. she looks offended that he thinks she wouldn’t. steve is secretly a little grateful. he didn’t really want to be alone. he has heather grab his bat out of the trunk. just in case he wakes up. heather has known him since middle school, but she looks at him like she’s meeting him for the first time when she sees the nails. she still picks it up. she still stays.

steve calls hopper while heather stands watch over billy. her knuckles are bone white over the grip of the bat. steve leaves a message for hopper and tells heather to stay here in the den, to stay by the phone, to keep on calling that number until someone answers. 

then, steve goes upstairs and ties billy hargrove to his parents headboard and waits for him to wake up.

billy wakes up pissed. what the fuck is this shit? he twists against the ties like he’s testing them and laughs, tongue darting over his lips as he looks over the rope looping over his wrists. should’ve told me you were a freak, harrington. billy rolls his body against the mattress as much as he can in either direction but he doesn’t take his eyes off steve as he does, so he doesn’t miss the way steve’s eyes slip to the stretch of skin as his cropped shirt slides up. it’s distracting. wouldn’t have stood you up last night. billy’s grin is wicked but it’s wiped away in the blink of an eye when steve starts to walk away. it’s just a distraction. billy’s voice drops to a near whisper. in his tone is a warning. let me go.

 instead, steve throws every blanket he owns over billy and stokes a fire. that’s when steve starts to see it, whatever it is that has taken hold of billy hargrove. let me go. he trashes against the mattress. let me go. his shoulder pops out of the socket. let me go. the binds rub the skin around his wrist raw and bloody. let me go. let me go! LET ME GO!

the headboard tears apart like it’s made of cardboard. billy’s hands around around his neck. again. steve can’t breathe. again. as his vision starts to fade, steve thinks heather must have left after all. she must be long gone otherwise she would have heard, would be here. he can’t blame her. doesn’t. it’s okay if she saves herself. he wants her to. he hopes she saves--

billy is ripped off of him, his body thrown across the room. steve half collapses, gasping for air, grasping at the wall. for the third time in his life, a girl half his size has saved his ass from billy hargrove. 

eleven’s nose is already bleeding as she enters with max at her back. max’s eyes are wide and terrified. behind her, heather’s eyes are even wider. max takes a stuttering step forward, flanking el like a shadow despite the clear fear on her face. eleven swipes the back of her hand across her nose with a sniff, smears the blood up across her wrist. that same hand she holds up like some soldier, signalling for max to stop, to stay back, to hold position in the doorway with heather. heather wrings her hands around the grip of the baseball bat, raising it at the ready when billy starts to stand up.

eleven steps forward, puts herself in front of steve like a protective shield. steve still can’t breathe, still can’t speak, so he can’t give in to the instinct to tell her to leave. she’s just a kid. she’s just a fucking kid. steve knows she’s stronger than he will ever be but she’s just a kid. it’s a fucking shame that she’s always the one saving them. 

billy is barely standing before eleven has him suspended in the air again. with his arms pinned to some invisible crucifix, he fights against this unseen force until he’s foaming at the mouth. his rigid body is raised higher and higher, in the beams of the vaulted ceiling, until he’s screaming into the skylight window inches above his head. the lights in the room flicker. 

eleven is screaming, too. there’s blood smeared across her teeth. both hands are extended out in front of her. her fingers curl into claws. a quick, violent jerk up and the skylight shatters. billy’s shoulders smash through it. sparkling shards of glass splash across the mattress. another scream from eleven and the lights in the room buzz bright. she brings both hands down. towards the ground. like a ragdoll, billy’s body is thrown through the drywall.

everything stops. it’s still. no one moves for minutes. watching and waiting for billy to get back up. he doesn’t. they tie him up again. they to come up with a plan. they managed to get the mindflayer out of one william before, they could find a way do it again. they just need somewhere safe, somewhere he can’t escape. it needs to be secure. it needs to be sweltering. 

the sauna should work.

(it doesn’t.) 

[peace-for-levi]

Pediatrician!Levi x GN!Reader Headcanons/Scenario

Warnings: apart from mentioning a case of depression within a teenager, none! 

I’ll try to make this as detailed yet as concise as possible, I tend to run away with myself sometimes, haha!

You were recently taken aboard at this new pediatrics clinic by none other than Dr. Ackerman himself. You had done a bit of work experience a few years back when you did rotations but when it came around to specializing, you always found yourself drawn to children. 

And perhaps drawn to your now boss too, but let’s not speak of that.  

Was it because he was so good with kids, despite his cold-looking exterior, or was it the neatness of his office/clinic or was it just him in general? Either way, you knew it was inappropriate. 

But how could you resist yourself when on your first day he remembered your coffee/tea order from years ago and handed it to you with a, “welcome aboard, [F/n].”

Yeah, perhaps it was just him. 

Dr. Levi Ackerman typically wore his white coat and encouraged you to do the same, just for professionalism. He wasn’t opposed to you just wearing something formal to work with a stethoscope around your neck either as he sometimes would just don black slacks and a navy button-up shirt. Stethoscope always stayed around the neck though.

Sometimes he’d walk into a shop on his lunch break with the device still around his neck. 

He showed you the ropes and you were given your own office within the building for your own clients, but sometimes Levi would sit in on you and show you how to do things. You knew how to do everything but having someone who had years of hands-on experience was always so helpful. 

But yes, as it may shock people, Levi is wonderful with kids, and you would love to know where this comes from, especially since Levi sometimes looked like he’d snap at a moment’s notice. But he handled babies with care, he had a special ritual (you can't tell me he isn't good with kids) in distracting babies when giving them inoculations and he was always there to talk to the parents afterwards who were new to parenthood. He even let toddlers and young kids play with his stethoscope and let it use it on him first in case they were scared. 

“Come here,” he instructed the parents. He had a gloved finger in a small baby’s mouth and he was showing the parents everything in fine detail. The baby suckled away on his finger and played with the index finger of his other hand. “You’re looking for this kind of latch. But don’t be disheartened if it doesn’t happen right away, or if it hurts.”

Also very kind to mothers who are still emotional and going through the wild hormonal changes right after birth. He might leave this one to you so that you get experience (especially if you’re a girl, what with bonding with someone who is also a girl) but he listens intently to their woes even if they are seemingly nonsensical. He is well versed in PPD and knows how it can be potentially dangerous if left untreated or left fester. 

“If you are feeling that your mood is making it hard to bond with your child, then it is absolutely imperative you get on top of this. Either via therapy, medication, a combination of the two. But there is no shame in this. It’s okay. Your body has just changed so much in the nine months and this is your new normal and it is a lot to take in.”

Levi’s voice was always so soft when speaking to new mothers. You just knew the man was so gentle with his hands when handling their infants too, and could hide the moodiness very easily around them.

Very open-minded doctor when needed which was always nice to see. If a mother couldn’t breastfeed or was simply mentally not in the right headspace for it, he would never bash her. At the same time, he also had no problem arranging appointments with a lactation specialist. If she wanted to do strictly formula, that is totally okay with him too. 

Always around in his clinic if you need a second opinion. Very helpful like that. 

A few months into working here was when Levi initiated his competition of sorts. Whenever either of you was finished with a young patient, they had to pick a sticker from the sticker roll and place it on your white coat. 

“What’s the reward?” you asked him. 

“The winner decides.” He answers and heads back into his office. 

And so the games began. Every morning, one of you would have coffee/tea prepared for the other person and you’d go off to collect stickers. Occasionally he’d invite you in to watch him deal with a client so that you can pick up some experience and know-how. You couldn’t tell if this was to make you get less stickers or not. 

There was one patient and mother that always stuck out to you. A sixteen year old struggling from what the mother called “moodiness” but Levi was quick to note that it probably was something far deeper. 

“It’s because of their damn phone!” The mother complained aloud when Levi suggested her teenager may be struggling with depression. Levi heaved a sigh and turned around on his swivel chair after the physical exam, trying to ignore the mother's comment. It wasn't appreciated or factual.

“There are two categories to this. There is a more natural approach, what he and you can do together to combat this and there is the other category: medication. Sometimes both are needed. We have good and bad days, but we want to make sure the good days happen more.” He explained as calmly as he could. 

But when the mother continued to complain about her child, Levi was quick to give a stern look to her. You learned then and there that he hated being corrected by parents who probably didn’t know the ins and outs of their own child, or weren’t going to take their issues seriously. He was also there to stand up for the kids who couldn’t do it themselves. 

“Do you honestly think you’re helping? Have you ever considered for a damn second that your son likes his phone as a distraction from whatever is going on at home?” he asked, not wanting to outwardly point the blame at the parent. “Access to social media 24/7 is definitely a factor - teenagers constantly want to look and perform a certain way. Technology is just so feasible and accessible and we are so open and vulnerable to constant criticism, it’s no wonder this generation and younger generations are depressed. It’s easy to blame phones. But we have to look at other factors. You’re also not giving him a damn second to speak to me. I’ve only heard you speak.”

You weren’t quite sure if you would ever have the gall to stand up to a parent like that. Levi was quick to stand up and send the mother out of the room. The patient was sixteen and was in this intermediary age group where their guardian didn’t have to be present in the room if the child didn’t want to. He also made you go on his computer and search up counselling services in the area as he continued to speak to the child. 

Once he was finished, he handed him a roll of stickers and asked him to place it anywhere on his coat. You noticed they were half way up the inside of his white coat. You were definitely losing! 

“Can you give one to my colleague, [F/n], too? Hand them a sticker.” 

You had to fight with all your might to not smile then and there. 

You got a Spiderman sticker and Levi got a Princess Peach. Naturally, these became nicknames for you both in either person’s phone. 

Towards the end of the year, Levi stopped supervising you but always needed updates on your sticker progress. Levi had won, as expected.

“Okay, so what are you doing for your prize?” you asked him. 

“Get coffee with me.” 

“Levi, we get takeaway coffee nearly every morning.”

“I mean, come with me after work and we’ll sit at a, uh, you know-- a cafe, of sorts, and we’ll, er, sit, and, er--”

Your cheeks dusted a light pink as you stared back at his terrible attempt at asking you out for coffee, and not just the nasty, cheap coffee. 

“Can I choose the café?” you asked. 

“Tch. You kidding? I collected the most stickers.”

And so, that evening, you waited for him outside his office and walked to this cafe in question. Only this time he made the bold attempt at linking your fingers with his. 

<This could easily turn into a part two, a more scenario-based part two? But I wouldn’t know how to begin, not unless I planned it. Hmm.>

[userholland]

all for her [3]

pairing: dad!bartender!tom x female!reader

warnings: cursing, lots of angst

summary: a single-dad bartender, a supportive best friend and their continuous, unrequited love noticed by his optimistic daughter. is it possible to break a heart they never knew they had?

word count: 8.7k! 

a/n: another month has passed but! finally here’s part 3!!! sorry for the delay but i was caught in between this rut & midterms so it took a while for any big ideas to spark. but i’m so happy that so many of y’all have enjoyed this story. i want to say again that this is my favorite fic series i’ve ever written so thank you so so much for appreciating it! i may end with 5 parts, but i won’t leave y’all hanging!

— masterlist ☆彡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

A week had passed since the gruesome bar fight and Tom was still left with a dark bruise surrounding his right eye along with another on the side of his chin and the start of his jaw. Luckily, there were no broken bones or dislocated limbs, but it was made known that he had a concussion after you forced him to go to the emergency room and get properly looked at by a doctor. As stubborn as he was, Tom tried listening to the careful instructions given for the follow-up appointments that would come, but everything went in one ear and out the other.

“We want to make sure each part of the brain that was impacted is still intact, so we want you to see this specialist and they’ll run a few cognitive tests to make sure everything is okay.” The doctor explained in simple terms as he scribbled the information on his prescription pad and ripped it off.

You nodded, taking the paper from him, “How much is all this?”

“It’s not too costly, but insurance should cover most of it.” He reassured, glancing at you before looking back at Tom’s chart, “I recommend a lot of rest and time away from work for at least two to three days.”

Tom quickly looked over, “I can’t take off work right now. I really can’t afford to do that right now.”

“Mr. Holland, we want to make sure that there’s no way you could injure yourself even more than now. You need to take a few rest days in order to relax and stay away from anything strenuous.”

“I’m a bartender, I think I can-”

“Tom... relax, please.” You retorted at him, your jaw slightly clenched.

Tom stared out the window with his side against the wall, feeling like he was miles away even though he was just across the room. You peered over at him a few times throughout the appointment, but you knew he didn’t want to be here. One of the strings of his black hoodie curled around his pointer finger, pulling on the coil before letting it spring back, repeating it a few times as the doctor continued informing to you.

He’d been fixated on the results of the DNA test. It was rooted in his mind from how many times he read over it, convincing himself it wasn’t true and it was a huge mistake. Doubt consumed his thoughts, wondering how he could have been so stupid to fall for the entire ruse even though Tom never regretted one moment of raising Summer. He loved her so much and would do anything to have her back, but finding out the truth made it harder for him to figure out if he should still be fighting for her.

Throughout the nights, he tossed and turned enough to wake you up, feeling his pull on the sheets. Sometimes you’d hold him from behind, curling your arms and locking them to make him feel safe. You pressed your cheek against his back, the eerily sound of his heartbeat against your ear as it quickly thudded. His thumb brushed over the top of your hand, remembering that you were still there, but when he closed his eyes, every thought crawled its way back in and cluttered his mind enough to make him want to burst into an angry fit.

After a few minutes, the doctor left you two to gather your things. Tom ran his hand over his hair as he started to walk to the door, but you blocked him from taking another step. With your arms crossed in front of your chest and your eyebrows furrowed, Tom knew that look was never good.

“Talk to me… C’mon, what’s going on? What’s on your mind?” You softly asked, still looking into his eyes.

Tom ran his hands down his face, a light groan leaving his lips from the frustration slowly building inside his entire body.

“I don’t want to talk about it now, Y/N. Please. I’m fucking embarrassed enough.” He huffed.

“Then when are you gonna talk about it?” You retorted, your eyebrows furrowed from concern, “You can’t keep the weight of the world on your shoulders forever.”

He shrugged, “I’m not Summer’s dad. That’s it! It was all fucking nothing. It doesn’t matter-”

“It’s always mattered, Tom!” You whisper-shouted, not wanting to make a scene with everyone passing by even though the door was closed, “What Maggie did to you was fucked up, but you raised that girl to be who she is now and that’s what matters.”

Tom gulped, his tired eyes beginning to water as he kept eye contact with you. His bottom lip quivered, but he quickly wiped his tears with his hoodie sleeve. The dryness in his throat hurt and even closing his bruised eye was painful to do, making him curse under his breath every time. He clenched his jaw tight as he rubbed the back of his neck, but you placed your hands on each side of his delicate face. 

It was hard to see him in this state where nothing mattered to him and there was a greyness that clouded over the great and wonderful person he truly was. It wasn’t the Tom you grew up with, not even close, so to see this side of him for the first time astonished you, and you weren’t sure what else it would take to see his old self other than getting Summer back.

He ran his hand over his soft curls, “Can we just go home?”

“Yeah, but remember we have a call with a lawyer tomorrow morning. He thinks you could get a good settlement deal since the guy who beat you up had prior arrests.” You reminded him, pecking his cheek then rubbing your thumb over the bruised skin under his eye.

Tom nodded, “You know we can’t afford this guy.”

“We’ll make it work.” You said, wrapping your arms around his waist with his around your neck.

He licked his lips, “Y/N, I’m not gonna make you pay for it.”

“Who said you were making me? I know you want her back as much as I do.” You sniffled, gently holding his face so he could look into your sincere eyes and saw the way they gleamed.

Neither of you wanted to surrender and it never crossed your minds to give up on Summer, but it was getting harder when you felt like Tom was a ticking time bomb and it could only take Maggie’s choice of words to pick at the one nerve no one else could reach to make him completely snap.

Your noses brushed together with your foreheads lightly pressed, both of you reminding yourselves that you had one another. Tom placed his hand on your cheek before leaning in, feeling how soft and light your lips were against his and tasting your minty chapstick. As your eyes tightly closed, you shared a slow kiss with your arms still loosely wrapped around his neck. It was a blissful kiss, one you hadn’t shared in a while, but it was comforting in moments like this where you were terrified of what was to come. 

When Tom pulled away, he planted a faint kiss on the center of your forehead, “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more.” You mumbled as you looked into his beautiful, russet eyes, “C’mon. Let’s go home and put some ice on that eye again, maybe take a nap after.” You hinted.

He half-smiled, “That sounds nice.”

You quickly furrowed your eyebrows, pouted your bottom lip, “Hmm, and maybe take a shower, you look like hell.” You joked, raking your fingers through the front of his messy curls to the crown of his head.

Tom rolled his eyes and smirked, “You know you used to be nicer to me, like when we were kids.”

“Well that’s before I fell for you, I can’t get too soft… plus, I think it balances your ego.” You smiled, pressing your lips against his while the two of you giggled within another kiss.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Later that afternoon, you and Tom were napping on the couch with the TV on low volume. The birds chirped by the window and traffic was below the terrace, the sudden honks echoing between the buildings. You were laying between Tom’s legs, the fluffy blanket over your whole body. With your arms loose around Tom’s torso, you slumbered with your head comfortably against his chest. Tom wanted to go some sleep, blinking his dry eyes every few seconds to keep himself awake, trying to distract himself with his phone.

Light snores left your lips, your face hiding in his neck as you unconsciously curled up more. Tom stretched his neck a bit, making sure you were okay before running his hand over your hair. If he could lose Summer, Tom worried that you could slip away just as easily. He never realized how protective he was, hoping it wouldn’t push you away from his own faults and insecurities; he didn’t want to be left alone.

Tom kissed the top of your hair, nuzzling his face against the top of your head. Throughout this, you were his rock, an anchor to hold him down when things got to be too much and he couldn’t believe how supportive you were with how confused he was. You held him when he cried and you listened to him when he needed to vent. It was things you’d done before, but you both felt emotionally closer like another wall had fallen and there was nothing you couldn’t tell each other.

He slowly raked his fingers through the crown of your head to the end of your back, over and over as you peacefully napped before his phone vibrated against the coffee table. You stirred in your sleep, turning your head away and loosely wrapping your arm under Tom’s neck. As his vision cleared from his sleepy daze, Tom furrowed his eyebrows at the contact name.

“Hey, baby, I have to take this,” Tom said in a low tone, not wanting to completely wake you up.

You nodded, your eyes still closed, but Tom slowly got on his feet. After he placed the blanket over you, Tom went out to his bedroom so you could have some quiet.

“Hey, dad.” He answered.

“Hey, Tommy.”

His father always had the same monotone voice, like a poker face that he had to figure out since he was born.

“What’s going on? Is Sheryl okay?” Tom replied, sitting down on the bed.

Ever since his dad got remarried a few years ago, Tom and his father’s relationship slowly parted over time. With work, school, and a kid, Tom didn’t have time to take the backhanded compliments and concerned parenting skills that his new stepmom persistently gave to him on any family occasion. They used to have dinners together every Saturday night when Tom could get away from the city and school, but each one got worse. The last straw was around this time last year, it was Thanksgiving dinner and the blowout was something Tom tried to forget every other week. He couldn’t even bring it all up to you which was hard to keep since it’s been biting at his nerves for the last year.

As Summer got older, Tom didn’t want her to think she was “some kind of mistake” as Sheryl would put it. So for the sake of her, he told himself that his family wasn’t going to cost his daughter’s happiness and he never returned a call back until now. She asked about her grandparents around birthdays or holidays throughout the year, but it was getting harder for Tom to avoid the question when she wouldn’t give up sometimes.

Even though Tom’s mom was usually out of the country, she made sure to send presents, pictures and call every other weekend to make sure he and Summer were okay, but Tom would never admit to her if something was wrong. His mom was never there, not for him growing up and rarely now, but he knew she was trying to make up for it holiday after holiday.

“Uh, she’s well. We’re fine. I just wanted to call you and ask what’s going on… How’s Summer?” His dad genuinely asked.

Tom chuckled, “Why do you ask?”

His father hesitated for a second with his answer, “I haven’t heard from you in a while. Your mom called me and said that she hadn’t heard from you either. So, we’re just worried about you…”

“Yeah… yeah.” Tom raised his eyebrows as he rolled his eyes.

He heard his father sigh, “I know things weren’t the best the last time I saw you-”

“Some woman I barely know tells me that I can’t raise my daughter? That she was a mistake? No, dad. I should be visiting even more after that.” Tom retorted, grinning to mask how the anger was building up inside him slowly but surely.

“She’s your stepmom.”

“Not to me.”

Tom’s dad didn’t fight back his bitter attitude, “Tom, I just want to talk to you. It’s just you and me.”

“Dad, I’m really… not in the mood.” 

“Let’s get lunch… or dinner, maybe? Just the two of us.” His dad suggested, almost pleading.

There was silence between the conversation as Tom thought for a few seconds. As damaged as his bond was with his dad, he didn’t want to push him away. It would be what Maggie was doing to him, and to feel the separation from a child hurt like hell.

Tom sniffled, “Fine, yeah. Sure.”

“Great. Well, what about dinner tonight? Where do you want to meet?”

“Um, we can meet at the bar I work at… before my shift starts. Six o’clock.” Tom trailed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

Tom quickly hung up before he could burst into tears. In the back of his mind, he thought there was an ultimatum behind the real reason he wanted to talk, not thinking it was just some catching up. But, the stress of the past month had made Tom into a walking mess. Maybe this would bring back some old times, like when he was a kid in a baseball cap and his dad brought him to baseball games and carnivals when his mom was on business trips.

“Fucking Christ,” Tom said under his breath, running his hands through his hair. He blinked away the tears at the waterlines of his tired eyes, wiping them with his t-shirt before getting up.

It was still hard to pass Summer’s room and see it still untouched and empty. Tom kept it neat and clean, hoping it motivated his hope to have her back home. Sometimes he’d sit on her bed and think about the little life the three of you had together. She probably missed her stuffed animals she had tea parties with or the t-shirts she couldn’t fit in her bag. Maggie refused to let him over anymore, not after the last time they saw each other and how frustrated he got. It was hard to think that Tom was holding out for nothing, and Summer could never be in his life again.

He leaned against the doorframe, staring at the bunny sitting on her bed. It was the bunny you and Tom spent hours looking for sometimes, one day realizing that Summer started to do it on purpose. She would hide it in the last place you could think of and it became a race of who could find Mr. Fluffycakes first. She finally admitted one day that she thought it was a game that you and Tom liked to play, so she would try to find the perfect place to almost camouflage the soft, grey bunny.

Tom held it in his hands, bring it up to his face, and smelling the familiar, lavender-vanilla detergent. He sighed, glaring at the small paintings taped with scotch tape to her wall by the dollhouse in the corner of her room. It was Summer’s favorite Christmas present she had ever gotten, Tom’s mom hoping she’d like it after getting it from London. She traveled a lot, always sending things in the mail to Summer, but rarely making appearances with how much she did work. Tom hoped that would change from when he was a kid, but now he understood how his parents ended up separating.

“You okay, babe?” You grinned, leaning on the doorframe and glaring at Tom sat on Summer’s book nook.

“Yeah, just miss her.” He half-smiled, biting his bottom lip after and tossing her bunny on the bed.

You walked over, sitting next to Tom and wrapping your arm around his shoulder before kissing his temple trailing to the apple of his cheek then lightly pressing your nose against his cheek.

“I bet she misses you a lot too.” You replied. “Have you heard from Maggie? Any chance of… seeing her? Maybe a short visit.” You asked, pulling your head away to turn to him.

He nodded, “We haven’t talked. I don’t want Summer to see me like this anyways.” Tom said low, lightly touching his bruised eye.

“C’mon, you look noble and tough. She’ll think you’re more of a hero than you already are.” You joked, trying to get a smile out of him.

“Hmm, I wish I felt like that.” Tom sighed.

Trying to figure out the gears working in Tom’s head was always a mystery. You watched his brown eyes shift back and forth as he was leaned over, his elbows against the top of his knees. Another long sigh passed his lips and you could tell something else was really bothering him, not needing him to say it.

“What’s wrong, baby? C’mon, you have that furrow in your brow.” You tilted your head.

He bit the inside of his cheek, his pride fighting his urge to just open his mouth, but he had a soft spot for you like no one else could. The instant Tom looked into your eyes, he felt the comfort he knew he needed.

“My dad called me, just now.”

“Oh… Is that good or bad?” You asked.

He cracked his knuckles, shrugging, “Both, kind of...”

You didn’t know much about Tom and his dad’s relationship other than Tom hating his stepmom, in light terms than he used. But, he wanted Summer to keep in contact with them for as long as he could. So many years had passed since you last saw his dad, so it didn’t feel right to butt in when you knew the bare minimum, but last Thanksgiving was unforgivable in Tom’s book so you stood by his side on what he felt.

“We’re gonna meet for dinner tonight… at the bar. I want to take a shift tonight.” Tom added.

You sighed, “Tom, you can’t work. We have to go to the doctor soon.”

“Just tonight. I promise. I… I need to do something with myself.” He groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair, rubbing the top of his head before looking back into your eyes.

“Okay… I understand. But, just tonight.” You agreed and rubbed his arm, pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

Tom sat up, straightening his back and you pulled your face away from his shoulder to look him in the eye. Your faces were close together, a few inches away before he asked, “Can you come with me? ‘Cause, I don’t think I can do it alone.” He admitted then bit the inside of his cheek.

You tried to hide your smile, happy that he was opening up a bit at a time.

“Of course, babe. I’ll go with you for however long you need me.” You said as you trailed your hand to his, intertwining your fingers together and giving him a quick squeeze. Tom’s smile slowly painted on his tired face, bringing the top of your hand to his lips.

“Thank you. Really, thank you. You don’t know how grateful I am for you.”

“Well, I have all day.” You jeered and it made him smile again, wrapping his arms around you to scatter kisses on your cheek and neck.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The bar wasn’t busy during the late afternoon, before the fleet of college students and single women came through for the nightlife. But it was a relaxed spot when the sun was still out. A few husky men sat at the bar, eating chips and drinking pints to watch the various games on the flat screens or truckers stopping by for a nice meal and taking a smoke outside. It wasn’t the most formal place to meet up, but Tom had work in two hours so it was more convenient than worrisome to impress his dad.

You and Tom sat at a table for four, sitting next to one another and your arm linked around his. He was dressed in his work attire which was a dark-blue button-down paired with a white t-shirt with his name tag on the right side of his chest, solid black jeans that were a bit baggy on him, and his raggedy converse with the laces looped around the ankle once. He kept checking his watch every few minutes while he tapped his right foot against the floor and it began to make you a bit antsy.

“Baby, you need to relax.” You reminded him, lightly pressing your hand down on his thigh.

“I am. I’m just mentally preparing for what he’s gonna say to me.” He sighed as he sat up in his chair.

“Like what?”

“Oh, you really want me to go through the entire list?” Tom sarcastically joked, a half-smile on his lips.

You humored him with a giggle, but nodded your head, “You’re overthinking it. It’ll be okay and I’m right here next to you.”

Tom leaned in, giving you a light kiss that made your stomach fill with butterflies. You never knew how tender he could be when he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who enjoyed PDA. But, he became putty when he was around you by this point that it was hard not to want to kiss you when you comforted him.

He quickly looked down at his watch again, “He’s almost an hour late. He probably bailed.”

“Don’t say that. He’s gonna come, maybe, he’s just in weekend traffic.” You tried to keep his head up.

Tom rubbed the back of his neck, but he couldn’t help but slowly feeling the creeping feeling of abandonment on his shoulders. He wanted to give his dad a chance, he really did, but this was reminding him of how he was never the most reliable. It twisted Tom’s trust issues in every person he met and having to be forced to sit there, wondering and waiting, was eating Tom alive.

Another half-hour passed and Tom decided to clock in early. He didn’t feel like having to sit there for another hour, only to be asked and told exactly what he expected to hear. You told him that you’d sit at the end of the bar, staying with him until he specifically asked you to go home, but really you wanted to hang around to make sure Tom didn’t get into another bar fight that ended up with him having more than a concussion.

Some college students fled in and asked for a round of beers while others waited for their favorite cocktails. There was enough staff tonight that Tom didn’t feel overwhelmed like last few times, sometimes having to clock in on days he didn’t work because someone called in sick. The new guys were nice, most of them young and needing something to do during graduate school or trying to make rent.

As Tom wiped down the bar when a group of girls left, his manager, Teddy, called his name from behind. He quickly looked over his shoulder and tossed the rag in the bucket underneath the bar, walking over to Teddy who never failed to not have a clipboard in his hands. He never took off his wedding ring at work like some of the other servers and bartenders and even so, he gushed about his wife, Anna, when he could. Even though he sounded like a broken record some days, Tom admired how Teddy flaunted his stable, almost 20-year relationship.

“Glad to see you back, Tommy!” Teddy grinned at him, putting his hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. I feel better, I just have to go to a few doctor’s appointments, if that’s okay with you.” Tom asked in the moment, crossing his arms.

“Of course! Of course. For how long you’ve been working here, I don’t think you’ve ever taken a sick day or called in last minute.”

“It’s just been two years, Teddy. You make me sound old.” Tom joked, cracking a smile.

“Yeah, but I still appreciate you. You’re a valuable asset.”

Tom didn’t want to take the compliment, but he still nodded and grinned.

“Hey, have you heard anything from that guy’s lawyers? Are they giving you any compensation?” Teddy curiously asked as he wrote with his signature, blue pen on the paper of the clipboard.

“My girlfriend and I found a lawyer, but I don’t know if he’s good enough to make sure I get the money I’m supposed to get. We’re working it out.” Tom reassured him as he glared at his feet.

Teddy smiled at Tom, big and sincere, “Well, as long as you have that support, you’ll be prepared for anything that comes your way. I’m sure your daughter will too.”

Tom nodded, “Yeah… She’s a great kid.”

He still hadn’t told anyone at work what had happened with Summer, seeing it was no one’s business other than everyone knowing he got hired because he was a single dad trying to provide for his daughter, at least who he thought was his daughter.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work. Let me know if you need anything.” Teddy acknowledged before walking to the kitchen through the doors.

Tom bit his bottom lip before sealing his lips, looking out at the crowd coming in. Out of habit, he checked his watch again, but quickly turned away to not keep holding out with his dad to come. When Tom’s gaze landed on you, his eyes softened a bit at the natural glow you had. You were talking to a girl who you knew in college, both of you still sat at the end of the bar and you smiled and laughed with her.

As he walked over to where you were, your eyes went to him and your friend looked over her shoulder.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.” She grinned, flashing Tom a friendly smile before she walked back over to her table of friends.

Tom’s eyes followed her then turned his focus to you, leaning on the bar, “Who was that?”

“She was in a few of my classes in college. Good friend. She thought that I had a pretty cute boyfriend too. Apparently, his black eye makes him look very brawny.” You teased, bringing your class of water to your lips as you watched him chuckle.

“Is he here tonight? I’d love to meet him finally.” Tom joked back.

The brightness was back in his brown eyes, a glimmer of hazel under the warm light. You hadn’t seen that gleam in a long time and it was a good sign and as much as you couldn’t know what was going through his mind, you just wanted more moments like this. Both of you away from the apartment where you weren’t secluded to walls that had too many memories built within them.

You leaned on the bar, your nose brushing against Tom’s before you shared a sweet, short kiss. You giggled against your lips as he did too, but you pulled back when you heard someone say his name from behind.

Tom’s dad stood there, his hair was a salt-and-pepper shade and a few lines along his face. The shoulders of his cargo jacket were wet from the downpour outside, a few raindrops dripping down his forehead and nose.

“Hey, Dad…” Tom sighed.

You turned to Tom, “Go, it’ll be okay, baby.” You reassured him, placing your hand on top of his.

“Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.” Tom said before giving you another kiss then walked around the bar to meet with his dad in the middle of the floor.

“Do you wanna sit?” His dad asked him, gesturing his hand to the table next to them.

“Yeah, I just have a few minutes,” Tom said, pulling out the chair.

His dad furrowed his eyebrows, “What happened to your face? Did you get into a fight?”

“Uh, yeah. Sort of. It’s not important.” Tom deflected as he lightly touched his eye, not thinking his bruise was that noticeable in the dim lighting of the table.

“I think it’s important.” His dad chuckled, leaning on the table to get a closer look, “C’mon, who was it?”

Tom nodded his head, “That’s not why you’re here to talk, Dad.” He said lowly, crossing his arms.

“Well, I wanted to catch up. How are you? How’s Summer?” His dad tried to carry the conversation in a more positive manner, hoping he could connect with Tom without it becoming an argument.

“Um, Summer’s fine. She’s in kindergarten this year.” Tom replied.

“Wow! Kindergarten already? It’s like yesterday you were that age. You would always wear that damn baseball hat everyday… your mom would throw a fit and she tried to hide it from you all the time, but you managed to always find it. Ah, she just loved when your hair grew out.” His dad chuckled, leaning back in his chair and he glanced over at you.

“Yeah… She’s getting older.”

“You have a picture?” His dad quickly asked.

Tom pulled out his phone, scrolling through his gallery until he found a picture from a few weeks ago at her birthday party. It was when Summer was blowing out her candles, her knees pressed into the chair cushion and her one hand pushing her up on the table while the casted one was by her side as she tried to reach the top of the cake.

“She broke her arm? Geez, what’s going on in your lives?” His dad smiled at the picture before Tom took his phone back.

“Her and Y/N went ice skating and she fell and… it was a whole thing, but she’s okay now.”

His dad grinned, “Is that Y/N over there?” He nodded his head in your direction.

Tom looked over his shoulder at you, still sat at the bar and you were talking with one of the bartenders. You crossed your leg over the other as you carried the conversation with a glowing smile painted on your lips, gesturing with your one hand while the other cupped your drink. The red and yellow lights strobed against your face, highlighting it past all the people passing by to get drinks or dance on the other side of the room. You felt Tom’s eyes glued to you, making you stare back at him and give him a playful wink.

“Yeah. We’re... dating now.” Tom admitted, glancing down at the table and drawing slow circles with his index finger on the polished wood.

Tom’s dad smiled, “Yeah well, you always had a crush on her. Glad to know you guys are still close. She was always a nice kid and… from what you told me, she was good with Summer.”

Every time Summer’s name was brought up, it struck Tom’s nerve and it made his face heat up. The more he talked about her, the more upset he got about what was going on complied with the other things going on in his life. Tom clenched his jaw, not able to reply and his dad could see he was upset. Even though Tom was growing older and he was his own man, his father could always tell when something was wrong. As much as Tom didn’t think anyone could figure him out, his dad could read him like the back of his hand.

“Is something else going on? Other than me just showing up?” His dad tilted his head to try to look at Tom.

As Tom’s pride fought his ego, he didn’t want to feel like he was suddenly giving into his father now that he was sitting in front of him. The idea of talking to his dad made him upset and brought back cruel memories, but now that he was venting and talking about things he thought he would be angry about, this seemed like a better time than any other to explain what was really going on.

Tom picked at his nail, trying to find the first words to say to how he felt without it feeling like a corny, emotional sitcom moment.

His face heated up, “I… I sort of found out that I’m… not Summer’s biological father.” Tom pinned his lips, tears developing by the corners of his eyes saying it out loud.

Tom’s father was shocked, not showing it on his face, but he gulped, “Are you sure?”

“A hundred percent. I took a DNA test at the doctor’s and… it sort of just… Well, I trust it enough to take it one time. The girl who’s her mom took her away, probably just for the child support, but I can’t figure out what to do… It’s been a month without her and I can’t sleep anymore, Dad. I raised her and I never doubted she was my daughter until now.” Tom choked up, a dryness in his throat making it hard to take a deep breath. He ran his hand over the top of his hair, weaving his fingers through the fluffy brown curls and pushing it away from his forehead.

His dad took a few seconds to contain his thoughts, wanting to truly think before he spoke and knew how much Summer meant to Tom.

“And on top of that, this asshole threw a punch at me at the bar last week and that’s how I got this.” Tom gestured to his eye, “And now I’m trying to get a settlement, but I don’t think I can afford the lawyer, and… everything is falling apart.” Tom trailed, finally looking right into his dad’s eyes who’s were similar to his.

Tom lowered his head, trying to hold his tears back at the sudden release of everything on his mind.

“I know you raised that little girl so well and I’ve always admired you for that.” His dad started.

Tom ran his hands down his face, sniffling as the whites of his eyes turned a light red. He couldn’t look at him as his father started to talk, worrying it was going to be a backhanded compliment and it was the wrong decision to do this.

“But, it’s gonna be hard to get her back if she’s not yours… but, if you find out more about how the mother feels about Summer and the whole situation, I can get in contact with a good lawyer or steer you in the direction of one.” His dad offered, but Tom nodded his head in response.

“Dad, I can’t do that.”

“I’m your father and I’m not gonna leave you hanging like this… I know you love Summer and you raised her. I’m not gonna let you drown yourself in a settlement on top of that, okay?”

“I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of this-”

“You’re not, I know that! You’re a grown adult who’s just needing some help and that’s fine.” His dad emphasized, understanding how hard-headed his own son could be.

Tom nodded, “I want it to be a loan. I can pay you back for however long it takes.”

“No, no. Let me help you out… as your dad. I’m not a bank, I’m not… anyone else. I’m your father and I know that if you were taken away from like Summer was to you, I’d want everything to be as smooth as possible.” His dad explained, trying to show how much he truly cared about his son despite the cold, bitter tension between them for the past year and a half.

The two of them sat there with the noise of the people’s conversations around to fill the silence, but Tom came to his decision and he nodded, “Okay. It’s a deal.”

They didn’t even shake hands, let alone hug, but the thankfulness was implied. Tom’s dad grinned at his son, the one who was just a little kid he wishes he truly gave the world to instead of sitting here thinking he had a lot to make up for. 

“Other than all of that, have things been good otherwise?” His dad asked, glancing up at him.

Tom chuckled, “Just this and not much else. It’s been pretty boring without Summer around. But, Y/N has made it better.”

“Is she a keeper?” His dad grinned.

“She’s more than that. She’s really great and I could… see her in my life forever.”

His dad smiled, “I remember when she broke her arm and you just went on and on about dropping her homework at her house. I had to… call the school and get the parent contact information and then you were all jittery and nervous in the car. Even gelled your hair that day.” He recalled, smiling at the memory.

Tom blushed, “I wasn’t that nervous.”

“She really is a sweet girl. I’m happy for you.” His dad appreciated him, nice to see a smile finally on his face.

“Thanks, Dad.” Tom’s smile curled up, patches on red painting his cheeks at the thought of you even if you were sitting a few feet away.

“Well, it looks busy here so, maybe we can reschedule for an actual dinner. One that I don’t have to tip you for.” His dad jokes as they both stand up from their seats.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. Definitely.” Tom nodded, running his sweaty palms down the front of his pants.

“It was really nice to see you. Don’t be a stranger.” His dad stood in front of him, staring at the mature and put-together man his son had become in the blink of an eye. It was a bittersweet feeling that maybe their time apart was leading up to this moment.

“I won’t.” Tom grinned, leaning in and wrapping his one arm around his dad.

His dad linked his arm around him as well, his hand meeting Tom’s back and giving it a few rubs before they pulled apart.

“I’ll keep in touch with you about the lawyer.”

“Thanks again.” Tom nodded.

You glanced over your shoulder, watching them go their own ways and his dad gave a quick wave to you. When your eyes shifted to Tom, he had a glow on his face, wanting to hide his smile by sealing his lips. You couldn’t help but grin, swiveling the barstool around to face him and you reached out for his hand.

“How did it go?” You simply asked, placing your hand on top of your knee.

Tom nodded, “It was fine, we can talk about it more when I get home.”

“No, tell me now.” You giggled, not wanting to put a damper on his news.

He half-smiled, “Just know that everything is going in the right direction. My dad said he’d help me a little bit with the settlement stuff and that way I can focus on Summer and what we’re gonna do.”

You ran your thumb over the top of his hand, “I’m really proud of you, you know that?”

“It was nothing-”

“It was something.” You retorted with a sweet smile, giving a light squeeze to his hand, “C’mhere.”

You placed your hand on his cheek, pulling him in to press a soft kiss on his lips. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t easy, but he didn’t want to take pride in something that seemed silly after it had happened. Luckily, he had you to remind him that he was taking the steps he needed to get Summer back. It was the first time you could see the light inside him even if he didn’t want to show it. Just from the difference in his smile, there was that gleam of hope.

As you pulled away, you sealed your lips and grinned at him. Your nose scrunched up as you both giggled, suddenly overwhelmed by the happiness filling yours and Tom’s hearts. You brushed your nose against his, your foreheads pressing together before he gave you another light kiss.

“Okay, I gotta work. You should go home, get some rest.”

“Well, I kind of wanna stay. It’s nice here and you’re just someone cute to look at.” You tilted your head.

“Why don’t you order something, on me, relax for a while and I’ll try to get off work early. Maybe, we can pick up ice cream on the way home to celebrate.” 

“Celebrate? Must have been really great news that I can’t wait to hear in detail.” You jeered and he planted a light kiss on your forehead before rounding behind the bar. He grabbed his rag, shoving it in his back pocket and you turned around toward him.

“What would you like to drink tonight, ma’am?” Tom said jokingly, placing a cocktail napkin on the bar in front of you.

Your lips to the side, “A rum and coke and make it dirty, Mr. Barkeep.”

He chuckled as he pulled a glass off the bottom shelf, beginning to make your drink in swift moves. He looked so natural behind the bar as he poured the bottles in intricate ways, finishing off the beverage with two cherries.

“Let me know if you need anything.” He smiled followed by a wink.

“Nothing I can say in public.” You teased before taking a sip of your drink.

Tom smirked at you before moving down the bar, tending to other customers with a natural smile on his lips. You tilted your head with your drink in your hand, almost in awe of him and how handsome he was.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The night was getting louder while the crowd was growing, some people passing by bumping your shoulder even though you were still sat at the bar. You saw a few friends and struck up conversations with them to catch up, not completely bored while Tom was working, but you were worried about him. You hoped that he wouldn’t oddly hurt himself, having to take him to the ER and give him a good “I told you so” talk on the way there.

As you worked on your second drink, your phone vibrated in your purse and the screen lit up. You furrowed your eyebrow at the unknown number but still decided to take it in case it was important. You asked your friend to save your seat as you took your purse, moving through the crowd to get outside. The rain was pouring still, but you stood underneath the awning of the bar as people ran under it, drying themselves off before entering.

“Hello? This is Y/N.”

“Y/N? It’s Summer.” She whimpered, her voice at a whisper.

She stole Maggie’s phone that she left on the charger in her room, sneaking it away and using the emergency numbers written on the tag of her backpack. Tom didn’t answer first, making her worried so she decided to call you and hoped to hear your voice she missed so much.

Your heart dropped, “Summer? Are you okay?”

“No, the lady is mean. She makes me go to bed early with no bedtime stories like Daddy said she would. She-she’s not fun and she leaves me with a strange lady next door.” She sniffled, curled up behind her bedroom door.

“Wh-What strange lady?”

“She’s old and mean too. I don’t wanna be here anymore. I wanna be with you and daddy.” Summer continued to cry at a low volume, muffling her whimpers to not let Maggie hear in the next door.

You felt your heart breaking, not sure what to say since she wasn’t your kid but, in a way, she was. You pinched your nose bridge and the heavy rain making it hard to have a clear mind.

“Um, um, have you talked to your dad? Are you safe?” You asked, frantic as her.

“N-no, Daddy didn’t answer. Please come pick me up. I hate it here.” She wept, her voice shakey as she begged.

You nodded, not able to take it anymore, “You wait there, we’re gonna come to get you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The time was almost midnight, but a loud knock echoed against Maggie’s door. She groaned, getting herself out of bed and thinking it was a drunk at the wrong apartment or someone playing a prank. As she approached the door, Maggie put her hair into a bun to clear her vision when she approached the door in the dark. After flicking on the light switch for the warm light above her, she opened the door and saw Tom dripping wet.

“Tom?... It’s almost midnight. I told you not to come here again.”

Tom sighed, “Y/N got a call from Summer and she was upset.”

Maggie rolled her eyes, “I can’t believe she took my phone. Jesus, what did you teach her? Because she’s been acting out in school, whenever I’m at work, I can’t take her anywhere!” She complained, her arm slapping against her side as the other held the door open.

“I didn’t teach her that. You’re the one who doesn’t know her and I know you’re not treating her right.”

“Oh, how do you know?”

“You leave her with some strange woman when you’re not here?”

“It’s my mother, Tom. I work, I have an actual job, okay? Not some side gig at a crappy bar where I can live on my tips.” She retorted, but it made Tom’s anger quickly grow.

Tom ran his hand through his wet hair, almost defeated by how defensive she was.

“Why are you doing this? She’s upset and she wants to see me.”

“Well, Summer is just a kid, she’ll get over it. Not getting her way is a part of life, Tom. God! You babied her so much that she just comes crying to you.” Maggie hissed at him, ready to slam the door in his face.

“She is a baby! She’s a kid, Maggie. She called Y/N because she can’t stand you. Do you think that’s good for her? Being here?” Tom yelled back, his jaw clenched and his face heating up.

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you saying what Y/N thinks is good for Summer like she’s her stepmother or something.”

“And where were you being mom of the year? Huh? Why do you have such a problem with her, Maggie? She’s the one who helped me throughout raising Summer, not you because you were never here!”

Maggie crossed her arms, her only defense since she didn’t have any words.

“Where were you when she took her first steps? Her first words? When she got her first A in kindergarten? Did you take her to the hospital when you thought she had a peanut allergy or when she fell ice skating? Who was there for her, Maggie?!” Tom persisted, his eyes filling with tears at how angry he felt.

Maggie couldn’t look Tom in the eyes because it was all true, she knew it this whole time, but hearing it out loud made her even feel a bit guilty.

“So, why do you suddenly want her now? Is it money? Or do you really want her to be in your life? I can arrange it any way you want if you really do what her back in your life, but I don’t think it’s fair that you just swoop up and take her away when she’s my kid too. A kid that I raised since you left her on my doorstep six years ago.”

Maggie chuckled out of spite, “You’d never get it.”

“Then tell me! Tell me so I understand. It’s just us right now. Y/N isn’t here and all I want is Summer back home so, what is the reason, Maggie?” Tom asked, his voice a bit more calm, but still frustrated that he hadn’t gotten a straight answer the entire time they had been standing there, “I know there’s a reason why you didn’t tell me all these years that she wasn’t mine. You know it and I know it… I just want you to be honest with me. Okay?” Tom retorted.

She sighed, stepping outside and closing the door behind her. As she rubbed her hands down her face, her breath was shaky as the truth was trying to inch out of your mouth.

“I… Summer’s dad and I were dating and I told him about her and he was… upset. Like, he thought I was just a bad mom and he said he’d leave me if I didn’t just take care of her.” She huffed, shrugging at how stupid it sounded coming out.

Tom was baffled, but he let her explain herself without interrupting.

“H-He left to Vegas or San Diego or wherever. He left me again and now I just… I wanted to prove myself!” She whined, gritting her teeth as a tear trailed down her cheek, “But, she hates me and I don’t blame her, but I know I’m not a mom. I never… wanted a kid, okay? I just… I wanted him back.”

All Tom thought was that she was selfish. He could yell and scream all he wanted, taking Summer away from her in the next few seconds, but nevertheless, he controlled his breathing and tried to hear her out.

“Anything else?” He asked looking down at his feet, his arms crossed and feeling a chill from the AC.

Her eyes were teary, but she nodded, “Don’t hate me, please. Please.” She begged at a whisper.

“I don’t… Just, do the right thing now and let her come back home.” Tom sighed, his voice broken as well.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Your body felt on fire from how anxious you felt, your foot tapping against the floor of Tom’s car. You waited, thinking your heart was going to burst in your chest if you had to wait any longer. A few minutes went by, concentrating on the time on the radio, but the heavy rain made the car windows look like stained glass. You hated biting at your nails, but you couldn’t help it after hearing Summer’s scared voice.

You curled up in the passenger seat, pulling on the seatbelt. You couldn’t just sit there anymore and do nothing, but stare at the dashboard and listen to the rain hitting the windshield. Your eyes began to tear up, wiping them quickly with the sleeves of your shirt, but you turned your head when you heard the back door open.

Tom was soaked from head to toe by this point, but Summer was curled around him before he set her on the seats. She had her backpack on, her hair damp and she was in her matching pajamas. Rain dripped off her noise and she wiped her wet forehead with the back of her hand.

“You get buckled in, just buckle in, okay?” Tom told her, still standing in the rain as he gave her the buckle of the seatbelt.

She nodded, guiding it across her body and pushing it in the lock until she heard the click.

“There you go.” He nodded, shutting the door and walking around the front of the car.

You sealed your lips as tears ran down your cheeks, tasting how salty your tears were. When Tom sat down, practically throwing himself into the car, your eyes met and you smiled at him. There was a sense of relief back in your lives at this moment, possibly a perfect one. As you glanced over your shoulder, Summer’s head was against the door and her eyes were heavy, but you reached your hand back to meet hers, holding it so tight that you never could think to let go again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

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