#according to the therapist that helped me with a lot of things

[docholligay]

What do you say to the people that question the utility of a watch, since you've got your phone?

If you have difficulty with attention, having a way to check the time without getting pulled into your phone is invaluable. Also, it's easier for me to 'understand' time visually rather than digitally, with the way my brain is wired. I wear a watch probably 80% of the time because it helps me so much with time blindness and attention.

So I like to have nice looking ones! I only have a few because I do spend money on them, so I'd like to have another one, and I think this is classy looking in the way a lot of fandom jewlery isn't always. You wouldn't know what you were looking at unless you knew.

[starry-eyes-love]

Too Young to Die- Part 1

Masterlist

Part 1 of 3 part Mini Series

Pairing |  Massage Therapist Joel Miller x F!Reader with Autoimmune disease, no outbreak, AU (I changed up his timeline a bit).

Summary | You were referred to Dr. Joel Miller, a massage specialist, to help manage your joint and muscle pain with autoimmune disease.  What you didn’t know was that Joel was an insanely attractive man, and that you’d be coming undone underneath him before your first appointment was even over with. 

Series Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Smut!

Age gap (he’s 47, she’s 29), language, Smut (with a capital S, watch out!!), daddy reference, f!(fingering), squirting, female reader has autoimmune disease, Joel is a massage therapist, slight reference of medical stuff, reader verbalizes anxiety with treatment, fluffy Joel, soft Joel, sexy Joel, terms of endearment, Joel asks her out on a date at the end.

A/N:  This one is completely self-indulgent and has been sitting in my draft folder since before Christmas. I have autoimmune disease, and treatment hasn’t worked much for me in many areas, so I know some of the troubles and struggles that the reader here has. Not everyone who has autoimmune disease may experience these symptoms, concerns, or struggles. This will be only a three part mini series. Very smutty with story building throughout. Enjoy! 

Word Count:   9.1K (we’re establishing a story here)

Fuck you were wrecked, seconds away from crashing through, or into, a brick wall with an orgasm, you thought.  This felt different though, so much different than what you’ve ever experienced before. “Joel, fuck, pressure, it’s a lot of pressure and I’m, fuck, I’m, I’m-” “Come f’me sweetheart. Come on baby, fucking soak my fingers.”

Joel Miller sat in his office of his massage studio, looking over the referral paperwork that Dr. Samson, an autoimmune specialist, had sent him. A female patient was being referred to him for treatment of musculoskeletal pain and tenderness.

“Patient has reoccurring musculoskeletal tremors of unknown origin that come and go. Bilateral joint swelling seen in all extremities with positive inflammation noted in laboratory test results and X-rays. Arthritis and arthralgia positive in all joints. According to the patient, anti-inflammatory and arthritis medication only works slightly for pain. Recommended gentle massage therapy to see if joint lubrication and increased joint mobility is plausible, and if pain and muscle tremors will cease. Immediate referral requested.”

When Joel glanced at the bottom of the form a week ago, he had seen that the referral had come in three weeks prior. Now today, four weeks after the initial referral, he was finally able to see you for the first time.  When he had inquired with his secretary as to why it took so long before he saw you, she had said that there was a problem with your private healthcare insurance. Delaying treatment was never something that Joel Miller prided himself on. In fact, he was usually the opposite with trying to get his patients in for their first appointment within a week following their referral. Joel, having been a contractor in his previous life before becoming a massage therapist, knew the difficulties with treating joint and muscle pain. The goal was to never delay treatment as it would lead to widespread body inflammation. And once inflammation fully set into muscles and joints, it was harder for someone to find relief of their discomfort. 

You were Joel’s next scheduled patient to arrive in 20 minutes. As he waited for your arrival, he went back over your X-rays, lab test results, and dictation notes from your autoimmune specialist.  He had already reviewed it previously, but now he was refreshing himself on your in-depth history as he took some last minute notes of things that he wanted to ask you for this particular session. He had booked your first appointment with him to be about 2 hours, instead of the usual hour.  Joel always conducted very detailed exams with his patients. He was also very knowledgeable in understanding autoimmune patients, especially knowing that each person was unique. He wanted to tailor a program that was going to help you specifically.

Joel Miller wasn’t just your average run of the mill massage therapist, he had a specialty license in massage. He specialized in patients with pain, joint stiffness and swelling, inflammation, autoimmune disease, injuries, etc. People usually only came to him by doctor referral, which usually meant two things. First, he prided himself on taking his time to get to know his patients and how he could help ease their suffering and pain. And second, he typically charged more money for his services.  Most massage therapists would charge people a fee based on how long they performed their massage, Joel charged by the session.  The maximum time he would give a client with his hands was 1 hour, but he’d pencil in 1.5 hours of time with them just in case they felt pain.  Sometimes he’d have to stop and let patients breathe and relax for a minute before he started massaging their muscles again. Joel had a lot of training and education in the technique that was required, and many patients walked away from him stating that they felt a lot better.  By glancing at your history he didn’t think that you’d be a one time only patient.  He thinks that you would benefit from regular massages with him to help treat your inflammation and pain.

“Mr. Miller, your 10 AM appointment is here,” his secretary, Ashley, said.

“Thanks Ashley, I’ll be out in a minute. Please take her back to Room 5, and I’ll be along in a minute.” He replied, still studying the notes from your doctor and making notes for himself of the things that he wanted to focus on with you for your first appointment. 

When you had arrived at the address for your first massage, you felt a sickly feeling in your stomach.  Your doctor had reassured you that Mr. Miller would be the person to help you feel better. But just like all the other promises that your primary care provider gave you, and how none of them worked the way that you hoped, you were very skeptical at this new treatment option. Nothing helped you feel better, and you were beyond frustrated. It took you a bit to convince yourself this morning to come here, telling yourself that Dr. Miller was an expert at this, and that you should give him a try. What could hurt, you thought. Worst case scenario, it didn't do anything, which sadly was the norm for you these days. 

For the last several years, your body had been poked and prodded more times than you would care to admit. Each time there was a promise of a better understanding or discovery of why this was all happening. But with each test, came more conflicting and confusing results, and you were exhausted from it all. You have been giving more blood for the sake of medical testing than what you’d think was truly normal. As ridiculous as it sounded, you felt that if Dracula was actually a real being, that he would be impressed with the amount of blood that you've donated for the sake of medical science.

With shaky hands, you got out of your car, locked it, and then entered the facility. When you entered you noticed that the space was calm. There was pale muted colors that covered the walls, colors that often helped people relax. But it did nothing for your nerves. You were shaking and not wanting to do any of this anymore. You felt like you had a huge lump in your throat, and that you couldn't fully swallow. Of all the things that you had to be afraid of in this world, you were the most afraid of medical treatment. Yet, that was the one thing that you were blessed with in having to always do. ‘Thanks body for betraying me with autoimmune,’ you thought.

As you walked up to the registration window, you found the secretary typing away on her keyboard while looking at her computer screen. You tried to settle your nerves before opening your mouth, but you felt like you were drowning in a pool of despair. Anxiety was getting the better of you again, and you felt like you wanted to run away and hide from everything. But where could you go when autoimmune always seemed to follow you, especially with the pain that came along with it.

“Um, excuse me,” you said meekly, after standing at the window for a brief moment. 

The secretary continued to type away, not looking at you nor acknowledging your presence. You went to clear your voice again when she abruptly stopped and said, “what can I do for you hun?”

“I- uh, I have an appointment, with um, with Dr. Miller I think,” you said softly.

“Oh, hun it's just Mr. Miller, or Joel for short. He doesn't like being called Doctor. He always says he has a doctorate degree in massage, not in medicine. Yet they're kinda the same thing if you ask me.” The secretary said, shaking her head with a slight laugh. You stood there in silence, looking at her as she continued to ramble on. You were trying to listen to what she was saying, but all you could feel was your heart racing in your chest at the prospect of once again meeting a new person with the promise of helping you.

After listening to the woman who you thought was named Ashley ramble on for 15 minutes, as that was the name that you noticed on her name tag, you were finally sitting down in the general waiting area. You were slowly trying to calm down and relax while staring outside and watching the birds hunt for bugs in the grass. You didn't know how long you were waiting there, just staring outside, before you heard Ashley call your name again to take you back to Room 5.  You didn’t know what to expect when you entered the room, but what you saw shocked you.

The room was softly lit, with soft music playing in the background, music that you liked. You also heard running waterfalls, sounds that came from the little fountains scattered all around the room. There was also a hint of cinnamon and slight vanilla aroma in the air, your favorite scents that would usually calm you. You tried racking your brain as to how, by chance, these scents and sounds were present when Ashley said, “it was on your intake survey. Your favorite classical music, scents, and sounds. Joel's very thorough, focusing on relaxation as much as muscle and joint relief.”

You stood there shocked. You thought those questions were just asked of people to try to ease the tension of how you were going to let a stranger put their hands on you. You had no idea that your answers would actually be taken seriously. Usually doctors, when they’ve asked those questions, never really did anything with the answers. Well, Dr. Miller was definitely different. It was at this moment that you were grateful that someone actually listened to you. You just hoped that he would continue with the same dedication while speaking with you, and not ignore what you said like everyone else seemed to do. You were frustrated with the medical field.  You’d tell them something hurt, or something was happening and they only looked at your lab tests and X-rays and made decisions based on that, never actually listening to what you were truly telling them.  You had only been in the room for maybe 5 minutes when you heard a gentle knock on the door, and the entrance of who you only could have suggested was Dr. Miller.

“Good day, I'm Dr. Miller but you can call me Joel.” He said while holding out his hand for you to shake. You shook his hand, and as you did, you felt how rough his hands were. They were calloused and strong, very sturdy hands. Not something that you'd expect to see from a massage therapist. This intrigued you, as you've always loved a man with rough hands. 

After you introduced yourself, Joel walked over to the small desk in the room and sat down on the rolling stool. A typical doctor stool that you’ve seen countless times in exam rooms. He grabbed a piece of paper and then sat there for a moment writing a few notes, things that you thought were probably dealing with your medical file. After a moment he finally looked up at you and then asked with a slight Southern drawl, “How are y’feeling today?”

“I- I’m ok” you said meekly as you slowly looked over Joel. Joel was a gorgeous man, clearly in his later 40s with chocolate brown curly hair. He had a mustache and a slight beard by his jaw, one that had a slight sprinkling of gray in it. He also had glasses on his face with gentle eyes behind the glasses, ones that you could easily get lost in.  He was wearing a simple white t-shirt, framing his broad shoulders perfectly. He had a slight tan on his arms, and hands that once again you couldn't wait to touch you. By looking at him, you didn’t think that massage was the only thing that Joel has done in his life. Something told you that he had spent many years doing hard work with his hands. As you continued your exploration, you then noticed that he was wearing a nice pair of black pants that hugged his hips perfectly. As you continued, you saw that Dr. Miller was definitely someone who was a decent sized man in the bedroom, seeing the soft bulge in his pants as he sat down with his legs slightly spread on the stool by the desk.  You couldn’t help yourself but you stared at his package, wondering what it’d look like outside of the confines of his pants, and what it would feel like fully aroused inside of you. The longer you stared, the more you felt heat rise up the back of your neck. When you noticed the awkward moment of him looking at you, clearly having asked you a question that you didn't hear, you shook your head slightly, looking down fully at the floor while saying “sorry” out loud.

“It's ok darlin',” he said, giving you a small little smirk at the fact that he caught you checking him out.  You were hoping that he didn’t see what you were checking out the longest though.  You didn’t want to explain to your massage therapist that you were fantasizing about his package, and what types of moans or grunts he’d make while fucking your brains out. 

Joel continued to talk to you, explaining why you were here, and how his services could help you.  You were only half listening to him, embarrassed about how you had behaved previously. Joel was devilishly handsome, the type of guy that you were into. You were, however, internally scolding yourself at the importance of having proper social etiquette, and not eye fucking your massage therapist, which is what you were doing every time you looked at him.

As Joel continued to talk with you, he slowly moved around the room, grabbing different things off from the shelves. He instantly noticed your meek and shy attitude, even though he had caught you checking him out earlier. He had to admit, you were very cute, but Joel was a professional. He couldn’t allow himself the joys of thinking about you in a different sort of way.  Nevermind, that if he wasn’t your massage therapist, he would definitely want to explore those other possibilities with you. What he did notice though was how you turned inward at the mentions of pain, autoimmune disease, and how your doctor said you didn’t have much abilities to do activities that your peers could do.  You were 29, and he knew what the world did to 29 year olds who didn’t, or couldn’t, do the same things that their peers could. The world would ignore you. Joel, himself, remembered those days when he was 29 and worked construction when Sarah and Ellie, his daughters, were younger. All his friends went out partying after work, when he went home and raised a 10 year old and a 2 year old all on his own, Sarah and Ellie’s mom were already out of the picture. Joel was lost in his own head, remembering those earlier days, when all of a sudden he heard you speak up in an irritated tone.

“Mr. Miller, no disrespect, but I don’t think you understand what it’s like to not be able to do things that most 29 year olds can do.” You didn’t think he understood. So once again you found yourself trying to explain to a medical professional how much autoimmune has negatively impacted your life at such a young age, and how agitated you were at the fact that no one seemed to help you or listen to you. Joel, being the attentive man that he was, sat across from you on the stool and listened to every word that you had said.

Once you were finished, Joel took a deep inhale, then followed by a long exhale and then said “I am so sorry that people haven’t listened to you, or have taken you seriously about your concerns with your body. You’re right, I don’t know what it's like f’ya as I’m not you. But, I do know what it’s like to not be able to do everything a 29 year old can do. I may not have autoimmune, but I had different responsibilities that didn’t allow me the joys of doing everything that I wanted, including the joys of being with a beautiful woman like yourself at that age. That’s why I want to help you.” 

As soon as Joel called you beautiful, he saw your reaction. You started to blush on your cheeks from the compliment. You felt flattered by the older man that was in front of you. Meanwhile, Joel internally scolded himself at how his statement wasn't proper patient-doctor etiquette. Joel had vowed to himself that he wouldn't cross that line again, especially with you, no matter how drop dead gorgeous he thought you were.

Joel began to run a few tests with you, checking your reflexes and testing your mobility. You didn’t say anything else to him after his statement. You felt embarrassed by your actions and assumptions that he didn't care or understand, when you could clearly see that he did. The longer you looked at him, the more you could see that he was someone who truly did care about helping others. You silently wondered if his treatment would actually help.

“Dr. Miller?” you asked, wanting to scratch the itch of your curiosity in understanding the treatment that he was suggesting.

“Joel” he said as he pushed on your shoulder blades. When you winced he said “are you tender here?” as he pushed on the same spot again, but this time with a little less force.

“Yeah. I’m tender there, and everywhere,” you said with a hiss as he moved his hand down to your biceps.  “It’s tender inside every joint, and sometimes muscles. Winter’s in Minnesota aren’t too nice for people like me,” you said, head hanging low as a tear slipped down your cheeks.  

You felt Joel stop testing your joints and muscles, hands still on your arms when he placed his finger gently under your chin, slightly tilting your head up so you could look him in the eyes. After a moment he said, “Well, we’ll try to rectify that now won’t we. Massage is more than just relaxin’, it helps a lot of people in ways that can-”

“Can it cure me?” you said, interrupting him, with wide eyes. “Cause if it can cure me, I’ll do anything. But don’t tell me that it’ll work miracles. Don't get my hopes up and then have it fail. I-I can’t take it anymore with all of the disappointment” you said, closing your eyes to take a steadying breath as tears gathered at your waterline.  It has been a very long and exhausting road these past three years with your autoimmune journey. You found out early on that your body couldn’t tolerate medication, and nothing else seemed to work. 

“I can’t promise that it’ll do miracles by curin’ ya, but I can promise that I’ll try my best to make you feel better. How’s that?” Joel said with a tender voice, trying to soothe your emotional discomfort of years of failed treatments. Joel remembered reading the last line of your referral by Dr. Samson which had stated;

“No treatments have been successful. Patient has voiced wanting to stop trying autoimmune treatments, stating that she didn’t feel like it was working. Patient was informed that if she decided to fully stop taking immunosuppressant medications, that the end result would be major organ damage that could lead to death. Patient agreed to try one more treatment for pain, stating that if the treatment didn’t work, then she’d stop autoimmune treatments altogether and ‘let whatever happens, happen’.” 

‘Fuck,’ Joel had thought when he first read that last line in your medical file. Someone giving up, especially at such a young age, didn't sit well with him. Being 29, your entire world was still in front of you.  You had a lot more years and possibilities of life in front of you. Giving up wasn't something that Joel did, and the fact that you had voiced wanting to stop treatments to your doctor bothered him immensely. Truly, it wasn't necessarily the fact that you had wanted to stop treatments that upset him. It was your willingness to allow death to potentially consume you that truly got to him. You were too young to die.

20 minutes later, you were lying on your stomach with a sheet covering your lower half. You were completely naked, scolding yourself internally that you didn’t wear underware today with your pants. Joel was slowly massaging your back, trying to work out the knots that he felt in your muscles.  As his hands continued to work out the knots and tension, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief. His touch was not only skilled, but carried a reassurance that echoed through your body. You felt safe with him, safe in a way that you haven’t for a long time.  You felt like if you were near him, that he’d take all the bad in the world away for you. And if you were being honest, this comfort was something that you haven't felt in a very long time from anyone.

"You're doing great, darlin’," Joel whispered, sensing your vulnerability and turmoil you had been feeling. Joel could tell that you were working through something major in your head, just like most of his patients did. Most of the time he focused on trying to distract people from their internal thoughts, giving them a break when they were here.  But there was something about the silence between the two of you right now that he felt like you desperately needed.  Every time he’d open his mouth to ask you a question, he’d feel you tense up, and that was the last thing he wanted you to do.  So he slowly worked your sore muscles and joints, giving them the tenderness and affection that they needed, while allowing you to stay seated in silence. 

Throughout the session, Joel maintained an empathetic connection with you. He explained each technique when he’d switch it up, providing you with the most gentle sense of comfort. He’d tell you what he was going to do, if he moved down your body or up, giving you moments to breathe when he felt like it was too much. But most of all, he gave you that warmth and unawkward silence that you craved. He wanted you to just live and feel, to just be in the moment with him.

As Joel's tender touch continued, you felt a warmth spread throughout your body, slightly dissipating the pain that had lingered there for so long. His words became a comforting melody, echoing a promise to you of relief. “You’re doing so good f’me, gentle breaths in and out, there y’go.” He said, encouraging you to stay centered and remain in the moment. That was the key in pain relief, staying grounded and living within the moment. When we just allow our body to feel, and not force anything, we can find peace and calmness. These feelings of peace and calmness are what leads us to having pain relief.

As Joel moved down to your lower back, you let out a hiss in pain, followed by an “ouch that hurts.” 

“What hurts darlin’?” Joel said, slowing his deep strokes on your lower back, right above your tailbone area.  He doesn’t remember reading in your file that you had lower back pain, so this was something new that caught him a little off guard.

“Right there, low” you said, hissing again as he pressed his finger into the lower part of your back, on your left side, by your hip.

After you hissed a second time, Joel immediately stopped and walked around to the other side of the massage table. He gently pressed on your lower back and hip joint on the other side, saying, “how ‘bout over here, does this hurt?”

“No, not as bad,” you said. “It's my left side, god that hurts.” You said, as he reached over and lightly pressed on your left side once again.

“Ok, let’s try somethin’,'' Joel said, moving completely over to your left side now.  “I’m gonna hold up the blanket, where you still are covered, and I want you to flip completely on your back, okay?  I wanna see if your pain continues in a different position.”

You nodded your head and then gently felt the blankets pull off from you. Joel was completely looking away from you, giving you privacy as you turned to lay on your back instead of your stomach.  When you finally settled, you told him that you were ready. He then informed you that he was only going to uncover your left leg, to the mid thigh region.  As he did, he explained how he was going to test your leg's range of motion to see if it was your hip joint that had caused you pain. 

With only doing simple joint motions with your leg, Joel noticed that nothing was painful.  When he bent your knee, pointing your knee outwards towards the left, followed by gently lifting your leg higher, to open up your pelvis more, he didn’t see any outward signs of pain from you. 

“If I do this, does it hurt?” He said, placing a little weight on your leg.

As soon as your knee got about level with your pelvis you hissed again. Joel tried pushing down on your pelvic joint to determine where it hurt, but all you did was whimper.  The pain wasn’t coming from your joint, it was coming from someplace else deep inside of you.  When he returned your leg back down he said “I’m sorry darlin’, I can’t determine where your pain is coming from. Have you had it-”

“Just forget about it” you said, turning your head to the opposite side, closing your eyes as you felt the tears start to stream down your face.

“Hey, none of that, '' Joel said, gently turning your chin towards him so he could see your face in its entirety. “If somethin’ is hurting ya, I wanna hear about it. Help me out, where does it hurt?” When you didn’t respond right away he said, “does it hurt here” as he gently pressed on your hip bone. He watched you shake your head no.  “How about here?” He asked, moving slightly inward, towards the inside of your pelvic bone.

With a shaky breath you said, “no, but it hurts straight down, but lower and inward more.”

“Here” he said, moving down about halfway where your hip joint was, towards the inside of your pelvis.  You let out another shaky breath, closing your eyes as tears fell more from your cheeks, shaking your head no to him.  

It took Joel a second to figure it out. But when he did, he finally understood why you were crying. You were embarrassed about what was happening inside of your body. When he moved his hand down towards the lower left side quadrant of your abdomen, and gently pushed where your ovaries were, he asked, “does it hurt here darlin’?”  As soon as he applied a little bit of pressure to your left ovary area, you let out a stuttered breath, nodding your head up and down.

Joel flattened his hand on your tummy, where the sensation was, knowing what the culprit was. You were probably mid cycle and ovulating with an ovarian cyst. He didn’t remember you being pregnant, but he wanted to make sure that it wasn't an ectopic pregnancy before he ruled it as an ovarian problem.

“If I press over here, does it hurt?” Joel said, pressing on the other side in the lower abdomen. You had your eyes closed, tears lightly falling, shaking your head no.

“Ok, ok, darlin’. I know, I know. Deep breaths for me though, ok?” he said, as he watched tears stream down your face. He gave you a moment to collect yourself, before he asked his next question. 

“Is there any chance you could be pregnant?” He said, slowly stroking your tummy where a baby would be laying. He knew he shouldn’t, but somehow imagining you having a swollen tummy where a baby would lay was giving him fantasies that he didn’t even know existed. 

You let out a sarcastic laugh, saying, “no, it’s not that.”

Puzzled, Joel looked at you and said, “y’know, if an ectopic pregnancy happened, y’still could have a normal period. If there’s any chance that you could be pregnant, like having unprotected sex, or even if the condom broke, you probably should-”

“Joel, I haven’t had sex in 3 years,” you said, barely above a whisper. When you noticed the shocked look on his face you turned your head away from him adding, “guys really don’t want to have sex with a woman like me.”

“What’d y’mean, a woman like you?” He said, furrowing his brows at your odd phrasing. 

“A woman who’s sick with autoimmune, Joel.” You said, closing your eyes and trying to pull back the tears that were threatening to fall again. You didn't want to have this conversation, and you sure as hell didn't want to admit how the act of even having orgasms were difficult for you. There were just some autoimmune embarrassments that you wanted to keep to yourself, no matter how much it shattered your soul inside. You didn't feel like a beautiful, young, sexy, attractive woman that you knew all the other single 29 year old ladies felt. You felt like you couldn’t offer anything to the male race that wasn't medical tests, sickness, and heartache combined.

Immediately Joel felt irritation and anger at your careless comment of how men wouldn't find you attractive or want to be with you. Without dwelling on it, Joel did the one thing that he knew he shouldn't, he opened his mouth to speak more on the issue. He hoped he could get you to understand that not all men were like this, that he sure as hell wasn't like this.

“Darlin’, boys, not real men, are like that. A real man wouldn’t allow sickness to stop him from wantin’ a beautiful woman like yourself. A real man would enjoy making you feel good.  Real men, honey, not boys.” 

Once he said it, Joel knew that he shouldn’t have opened his mouth, especially with the look that you were giving him. You looked back at him, shocked, and taken aback by his forward statement. But he couldn’t just stand there and listen to you accuse men, like him, of not caring. He would do anything to be with a beautiful woman like yourself, whether or not you were sick with a permanent illness.

After your head caught up with Joel's statement on men, you just shook your head. You then gave him a genuine, honest to god, belly laugh. “Yeah, well, Mr. Miller, show me where a real man is who wouldn’t care about all of that.  Tell me who he is, because honestly, I haven’t found one single guy out there who’d be willing to have a real relationship with me because of this illness. And for the record, I can’t even get a guy to fuck me with no strings attached either. Not that I’d want that, cause I don’t do the casual sex thing, but still, you get it.” You said, snapping right back at him. 

It was Joel's turn this time to look shocked. He thought to himself, why the hell has no one treated you right? He could see that you were exhausted with your own body and with your own life. He could tell that you were exhausted at the reminder of what you didn't have, of what your autoimmune disease had taken from you. He wondered if you ever truly tried, or if you just gave up right away. The longer he looked at you, the more he realized that you had tried, but obviously you weren't successful.

As you sat there partially propped up onto your forearms, you felt the tears well up into your eyes once again as you watched Joel look at you. You were embarrassed at what you had said. At admitting how easy it was for everyone else in the world to have relationships, everyone except you. Hell your own family even disowned you after your diagnosis stating that it was “too hard for them to handle.” So you've been doing this on your own, all alone, for the past 3 years. Exhausted didn't even come close to describing the way that you felt. 

As you gently laid back down at this realization of loneliness once again, silently scolding yourself for opening your mouth, you accidentally hit the back of your head on the table, muttering “shit” under your breath. After a moment, you heard Joel let out another long sigh and then he gently grabbed your chin and said, “hey, look at me.”

When you looked into Joel’s eyes, he was staring back at you with concern and tenderness lacing his features. Joel saw your frustration and array of emotions, and he felt like it was important for him to take away all those insecurities by telling you that he wasn't like all those other boys you were with. With a slight smile, he gently cupped your cheek and said, “darlin’, a real man, like me, doesn’t fucking care if you’re sick or not. Men, like me honey, would take care of you regardless of the problems that you have. And honestly, it’s a damn shame that no one has ever taken their time with you, making sure your needs were met. If I was with you, I'd make damn sure you were enjoying it the entire time.” 

Joel then removed his hand and placed both hands on the side of the massage table, stepping back and exhaling through his mouth as he looked down at the ground.  He knew he needed to end this session right now. He's already stepped over far too many lines, and if he didn't watch it, he'd cross an even bigger one of showing you how a real man gave a beautiful woman pleasure.

You laid there watching the turmoil unfold on Joel's face. He wouldn't look up at you, kept staring down at the floor, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet periodically.  He had checked his watch several times, attempted to clear his throat once, and had quickly glanced out the window. You knew those signs, he was trying to find a nice way to end the session or end the conversation. The more you watched him, the more upset you got. 

After Joel stood there staring outside for a while, he finally cleared his throat again. “I- uh, I think Dr. Anderson can probably help you better, she’s very good with this type of stuff,” he said, waving his arm at you, but not looking at you. 

When he straightened up to walk away you closed your eyes and said in a soft voice, “Please, please, help me.” You wanted to keep your voice steady, but you found that it slightly cracked at the end, which made you internally scold yourself. You weren't a weak person by nature, you couldn't afford to be with a disease that was slowly destroying your organs and killing you from the inside out. But somehow you felt like you were weak, like you were just a shell of the person that you once were. At first, when you asked for his help, you didn't know what exactly you were asking for. But as the seconds ticked by, with him not answering, you realized that you were pleading for him to see you.

Without looking at you, Joel asked in a gentle tone, “what do y’need help with?” When he turned back around towards you, his eyes were closed, and he was taking several steadying breaths. He was trying to calm his nerves and to silence the war that was going on in his mind. His mind was screaming at him, reminding him that this was inappropriate patient-doctor conversation or relations. He knew he needed to stop. So it shocked him to hear himself say a little louder, “Darlin’, what do you need help with?”

You just stared up at him, searching his face to see if what you wanted to voice was okay for you to do. You wanted him, as a man, to find you attractive and to touch you. But how could you ask him to go against all of his code of ethics as a medical provider just to touch you like a husband would touch a wife, desperately and passionately.  You didn’t even know if he was married, or even in a relationship with someone else. 

As Joel opened his eyes, he looked down at you, and it was then that he knew what you wanted. You were looking at him the same way his ex-wife used to look at him from time to time. When she’d plead with him to fuck her, to silence all her insecurities in her head. He hasn't seen a woman look at him like that for almost 20 years, and it did something to him. It made his resolve crumble instantly where he said ‘fuck it' in his own head, and he gave in to his primal instinct of helping you as a man, not as your doctor.

“Baby, come on. I ain’t gonna ask y’again.  What is it that you need, honey? Tell me, and I'll do it.”

“Joel, please,” was all you could say, begging him with your eyes, trying to tell him what you wanted.

“No, now, come on. Y'gotta use your words for me. Be a good girl and tell Daddy what he can do to help you and make you feel better.”

As soon as Joel had said the word daddy, he instantly scolded himself. But when he saw your eyes glaze over with arousal at the name, he knew what you wanted. You lightly whimpered and started squeezing your thighs tight together. 

Joel felt dizzy for a moment as blood rushed fast to his cock at your whimper, his cock hardening to the point of being painful. But this wasn't about him. This was about you, about showing you that a real man, like him, could give you affection and attention like you so desperately needed. 

He walked towards you, gently placing his hand onto your thigh, lightly stroking it. He was trying to center you and help you communicate with him in what you wanted and needed. He knew all of this was wrong, but he couldn't help himself, especially when you begged him to touch you.

“Joel, please, touch me,” you said, while grabbing his hand and guiding it to below the blanket to where you were practically throbbing. 

“F-fuck,” Joel slightly moaned, closing his eyes at the feeling of you not wearing any underwear as he touched your slick velvet folds underneath the blanket with his hand. Your lips were slightly swollen, aroused, and desperately needing attention. You were making a mess on his table, slick pouring out of you from your needy little hole. You wanted Joel to help soothe the ache deep within you, to take your pain away.

Joel slowly moved his finger down to your center. Feeling your pussy spasm and clench around nothing. He rested his finger at your opening, not pushing his finger inside of you just yet, but slowly stroking it with feather-like touches. “Baby, we shouldn’t do this” he said, still slowly circling your opening, and not stopping or pushing his finger in. He needed to hear your verbal confession that you wanted this, that you wanted him. As Joel felt your hole clench a second time at nothing, he said, “baby, please, say somethin’.”

You moaned slightly while opening your hips up to allow him better access to you. “More” was the only audible thing that you could say at the moment. And that's when Joel’s resolve fully crumbled, and he pushed two fingers knuckle deep inside of you, stretching you perfectly around him.

“Fuck baby, that's tight. Ya squeezing my fingers in a goddamn vice.” He said, growling low, followed by a soft grunt.

You willed yourself to relax, to allow Joel in more. To allow him to get deeper within you, to where you knew that you needed him. To say his fingers were a stretch was an understatement. His fingers were longer and thicker than what you were used to. It was a comfortable stretch, but almost borderline on being painful. You've never been stretched out this much with just fingers alone. If you had to guess by his slow movements he was doing right now, you thought that Joel was a very experienced man, especially when he curled his fingers and found that spot deep within you that you've never found before. As soon as he hit it, your eyes rolled back in your head and you softly moaned “fuuuck.”

“There she is, right there huh, baby?” He said, angling his hand a bit more to get a little deeper as he started to stroke your g-spot with those perfected come hither movements. 

Joel was good at three things: First, he was a very hard worker. He had the perfect street smarts to own and operate two successful businesses in his lifetime. Second, he was an amazing father. Always listening and being there for his girls. And finally, he was an attentive lover. He listened, and found what worked for every woman that he’s ever been with. He knew how to fuck a woman just right, and how to bring her the most and best pleasure.  And that was something that he made sure you understood at the moment with his fingers.

As Joel continued to work his magic with his fingers, pushing them a little deeper inside of you, and picking up the pace in stroking you, you felt your walls spasm more. You let out a low moan, breathing starting to become erratic as the sensation of pleasure took over your body. You were right, you obviously hadn't had a good fuck for a long time, especially considering that you were not far from coming undone on just his fingers alone with no clit stimulation whatsoever. And if you could describe the feeling that you were feeling right now with his fingers moving inside of you, you would describe it as being ‘fucking fantastic.’

Joel found himself matching your small moan with a groan of his own, especially when he looked down and noticed your pussy was dripping all over him. He slowly started withdrawing his fingers, giving you time to adjust, before pushing them back in. It was obscene, the wet squelching noises that your beautiful cunt was making for him. You were biting your lip, eyes casted away from him. He gently grabbed your chin with his other hand, turning you towards him while saying “no darlin’, eyes right here. Ya keep ‘em on me, ok?” He said, as he slowly kept pushing his fingers in and out of you. He kept up the slow pace for a bit, working you up, not wanting to fully tip you over the edge just yet. He knew that you needed this, that you needed to enjoy the experience.

“Joel, it feels- fuck, it feels, it feels,” you were at a loss for words at the moment. You were struggling to keep your eyes on him right now, fighting them from wanting to roll back into your head at the sensation of pleasure.

“I know baby. Fuck, just listen to her, she needs this huh? Your pussy needs this, doesn’t she? This. Nice. Slow. Finger. Fuck, huh?” He said, slowing down more and thrusting harder with his fingers at every word he said, drawing out your pleasure more. The longer he fucked you slow with his fingers, the more your pussy gripped him hard, sucking him in, not wanting him to leave.  You were panting, starting to squirm, getting lost in the pleasure.  Joel wanted to tease you a little longer, but he figured you weren’t used to this kind of play.  Something he intended to do next time he had you alone, preferably in his bed with you begging for his cock. 

When Joel saw you start to match his thrusts with your own, he knew it was time for him to tip you over the edge. So Joel really started to finger fuck you you now, the way that he knew women liked. When he did that, you cried out at the stimulation and surprise of his actions.

“Shhh baby, it's alright,” he said, cooing at you to quiet you down. “Now, darlin’, you’re gonna be a good girl and come all over these fingers, ok? Then you're getting a full refund today. I don't charge money to finger fuck my clients.”

You nodded your head, trying to keep your eyes open as Joel massaged the inside of your velvety warm walls, getting closer to the edge.  Your toes were starting to curl, breathing was very erratic. You were getting very close to cumming.

“And lastly sweetheart,” he said, putting pressure down on your lower abdomen, and curling his fingers in a way that he knew would make your vision go blurry, while building a firm pressure sensation inside of your abdomen. “You must communicate with me with your words when something doesn't feel good, or if you want me to do something differently. You know your body better than me honey. I don't, so help me make you feel good. Okay?”

Fuck you were wrecked, seconds away from crashing through, or into, a brick wall with an orgasm, you thought.  This felt different though, so much different than what you’ve ever experienced before. “Joel, fuck, pressure, it’s a lot of pressure and I’m, fuck, I’m, I’m-”

“Come f’me sweetheart. Come on baby, fucking soak my fingers” Joel growled in your ear as the rubberband inside of you snapped hard. When it did, your cunt seized around his fingers as you felt the gush of fluid come out of you, he made you squirt for the first time. Your vision went white, ears ringing, legs shaking from the intensity of it all.  You’ve never come so hard ever in your life, and you couldn’t help the loud moan that escaped your lips around Joel’s hand that was now covering your mouth. He continued to fuck you through your orgasm, whispering “good fucking girl” with a strained voice as he watched you come undone. His own pupils were blown wide, eyes impossibly dark with lust, wanting nothing more than to bury his cock deep inside of you, to feel you spasm around him hard like this.  But that would have to happen at a later time.  Today was about you, about giving you something that you needed, attention from a man.  You were a beautiful woman, and you deserved to have a man take care of you in this way, and other ways too, even if you did have autoimmune disease. 

Joel continued to slowly work you through your high, pumping his fingers gently in and out of you. When you finally came back to Earth, he removed his soaked fingers from your cunt and then he slammed his lips hard against your mouth, kissing you fervently. You licked the seam of his lips, asking for access into his mouth, which he quickly granted. You two were wrestling your tongues together, each seeking dominance over the other. Joel has never been kissed like this, with so much passion that he hated pulling away from you mere moments later, gasping for breath as his heart raced out of control in his chest. 

“Fuck woman, no one’s ever kissed me like that,” he said, gasping for breath. Joel placed his forehead gently against yours, eyes closed, breathing you in as his heart rate slowed in his chest.

“Do you want me to take care of you?” you asked, laying your hand gently on his crotch, feeling him buck slightly into your touch beneath you.

“No baby, I wanna do this right, take ya out first, if y’don’t mind.”

“You don't have to if you don't want to, I mean-”

Joel snapped open his eyes and stood up looking at you, furrowing his brows. He then shook his head and said “don't”, and walked over to the sink in the corner of the room to wash his hands. You sat up, chewing on your lip, overthinking things once again. After a moment of silence you heard him speak when he shut the water off.

“I'm not some 20 year old punk ass boy who only cares about getting his own rocks off, darlin'. I don't do that sort of thing. Now, if you don't want to have dinner with me, then that's fine. But I'd really like to take y’out.”

“Like a date?” You asked, looking into his eyes hopeful.

“Yes baby, like a date.” He said, standing in front of you, holding a robe up for you to take to cover your naked body up.

“Yeah, but what happens when I- when we- when it's done? Or what happens if I can't because of this- because of autoimmune?” you say, motioning your hand up and down at your body. 

Joel took a big breath in, and then slowly let it out through his nose. He then cupped your face with both hands and said, “ok, I'm gonna stop you right there. First, I don't fuck on the first date, ok, so don't worry your pretty lil’ head about it. And second, I don't give a damn if we have to reschedule. I understand you have autoimmune disease, remember I've read your file.” Joel immediately winced at that reminder, of how he has crossed every line in the sand with his actions. He didn't know how he was going to explain to Dr. Samson that his treatment wouldn't work with you and that he was going to refer you to Dr. Anderson. It was going to cost him big time, he knew that. Dr. Linda Anderson wouldn't just drop it, she'd want an explanation. But Joel couldn't think about that right now, he'd deal with it and her later.

“But Joel it's-”

“Do you not want to go out to dinner with me?” He asked, the color draining from him face. Did he read you wrong? Were you just looking for a quick orgasm and nothing more? He rubbed his neck in embarrassment, thinking he completely fucked up at your signals once again. “You-uh, you don't have to say yes if you don't want to. I mean, if I read you wrong you can- uh, no pressure to say no.” He was internally scolding himself at this entire situation, of how much he's fucked up today. His ex-wife was right, he thought, he definitely doesn’t understand what women need nor want. Proof was here, right in front of him, with your reluctance to say yes to just dinner. 

Joel turned to walk out, mumbling “I'll give you some privacy to get dressed. I'll tell Ashley to give you a refund when I see her tomorrow, don’t worry, she’s already left for the day. And you can just forget about today if you want, if I made you feel uncomfortable. I’ll sorry, I just-”

“Stop, please,” you said, grabbing his arm. “Don't leave. Everyone does, everyone leaves me. I-I want you to stay with me right now, please.” 

Joel stopped and looked at you, seeing the gears in your head turning. After a moment he said, “please honey, ya gotta tell me what you're thinking. I can't-”

“I want to go out on a date with you Joel, it's just, don't have high expectations or hopes for me, ok? Men do, and then as they get to know me they- they get mad when I don't meet something that they wanted. I- this- it’s hard ok? It’s hard ‘cause I have a gorgeous man in front of me that I've been attracted to since the moment I saw him, and all I want is for him to see me. To really see me. And I- I don’t wanna fuck that all up where you hate me, or think I’m a failure and I- I should just really stop talking.” You said, laughing at yourself and blushing at the fact that you just spilled all of your insecurities in the air to a stranger. A very hot stranger, but a stranger nevertheless.

“Honey,” he said, grabbing your hand softly. “I want all that too and, if I'm being honest, I'm a little scared of a date too as it's been a long time since I've done this. The whole dating thing, it hasn’t been a priority of mine for a while. But I wanna do it f’you, with you. We can take it slow, we can figure it out together, ok? How does that sound?” Joel then leaned in and gave you a soft, delicate kiss on your lips, one that immediately calmed your nerves. 

“Ok, yes. Dinner would be great,” you said, a tad breathless after Joel pulled away from kissing you. You took a moment to compose yourself, to will the butterflies to calm down in your tummy at the thought of getting a chance to have a date with this man.

Joel watched the blush rise up in your cheeks, and if he was being honest, it flattered the hell out of him.  That a simple gentle kiss could get you all hot and bothered, where you were blushing for him. “Ok, good,” he said, smiling. “How about I pick you up around 6pm this Saturday?”

You nodded your head, and noticed that Joel furrowed his brows at the lack of your speaking to him again.  You quickly said, “Saturday would be perfect.” 

Joel stood there for a moment, glancing over your features, looking at you intently, making sure that you in fact truly wanted this.  Once he found what he was looking for, he stepped back and gave you a small smirk. 

“Ok, darlin’. Now for life's biggest, and most important question. What toppings do y’like on your Pizza?”  Joel decided to take you to his favorite pizza place on Saturday.  When he saw you smile, he knew that he picked a good choice.

“Well Miller,” you said, while giving him your best playful smirk. “You’re just going to have to take me out to find out.”

End of Part 1

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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[inkskinned]

i. there's this phrase: bloom where you are planted.

ii. something i should maybe talk to my therapist about is that all of my daydreams involve me helping people. when i picture meeting celebrities, i'm usually just suggesting therapy to them. there's just not a lot left for me to get out of this world, i feel like - like with this time left i might as well use it for kindness.

iii. according to the gardening map, i was raised in Zone 6 of plant hardiness. i think that's kind of funny. i am good with plants, and keep too-many of them. i learned young about the colors of hydrangeas - how you cant tell the pH of the soil by it.

iv. they tore down both of the schools i attended as a kid. most of the forests we walked in have been turned into apartment complexes. there's nothing really left of the places i've been.

v. tumbleweeds are liminal things - they are carcasses that carry their seeds along with them. a plant that evolved to move. we have so much to learn about nature, and the way that happenstance creates miracles. can you imagine the beauty of that? i think so often about how the roots of a tree often take up the same shape and circumference of its branches. i think so much about carnivorous plants; those that eat with no stomach. about where plants store their "knowledge."

vi. i'm not going to write about who i was or what i did to myself before i left. only three things, which will make sense if you are the type of person i buried in that ditch. the first is that i ended up getting tattoos to cover it. the second is that setting boundaries still makes me uneasy. and the third is that i am constantly shocked at the fact i have actually made it to the place where i'm happy.

vii. there's this ongoing joke amongst those of us who keep plants: you don't really get a say in whether or not the plant wants to be dead. i'm excellent at orchids, but i kill every ivy i've ever met. i have been rotating one particular rescue plant around my apartment, trying to figure out what exactly is the right amount of sun for it. the truth is that sometimes things will never survive being kept.

viii. i used to daydream about joining the circus. about an alien abduction. i used to picture meeting celebrities and whispering please fucking get me out of this. did you know the quote originally came from a bishop? when i googled it, google told me the meaning is don't take what you have for granted. make the most of what you are given.

ix. sometimes i think about my 17 year old self. it's been happening a lot lately. i keep watching her through my memories, how she clawed herself raw, scratching at the walls. we got out, is the thing. i know we thought about staying. but oh, fuck dude: we could have never bloomed if we'd stayed planted.

[foptbw]

Artist note -> I redesigned Gary a little because in the drawing he had buck teeth and brown hair like Timmy and it always bothered me that they gave him black hair)

Timmy: You guys know about Chloe and AJ and Chester and me…. as for Crocker I don't… don't know… after he broke into my old home and… with the help of AJ I got a restraining order against him. Mom and dad thought it was unnecessary. You'd haveta ask AJ I think he knows more about that situation than me.

After… well… anyway Trixie actually was pretty nice to me. She would bring me new comics and Veronica defended me from the other popular kids. According to Trixie helped her realize that life is more important than what people think of you. She's a comic creator now. Vernonia and Trixie got married a few years ago. Vernonia is a child therapist now! I think Chloe is still friends with them! She's the godmother of their daughter! They were all really good friends since they were cheerleaders together. Their daughter is adopted but according to Chloe she's just like her moms but sweeter.

I don't know what happen to Vicky… I duh wanna see her again. I don't need ah babysitter anymore. After everything changed for the first year I haddah had a babysitter again and it was so much worse. And Tootie was pushy too pushy. She never knew when she was takin things too far and Vicky always was going on about if I thought I was too good for her little sister. But, luckily like magic my… cousin stayed with us over the summer and Tootie fell in love with him and she left me alone. I don't remember having a cousin Gary. But, that's who he said he was and my parents agreed, I don't remember a lot of thing so. Yah. Chloe says that they have twins now, a boy and girl Tammy and Tommy. She showed me since they are my family I guess and because her goddaughter was in the picture.

It's best to leave this to AJ or Chester they keep in touch with people more than me. They know more bout that stuff than me.

Chester: Crock pot is still out there hunting fairies. He appeared at the reward ceremony that Galax hosted and made a big fuss. Luckily Timmy can't go to Galax events because he triggers the magic detectors so he hadn't been there. As for Trixie, like Timmy said she is happily married to Veronica now with a little girl of their own. Total tomboy. Chloe's little monster buddy.

…. After Timmy's memory loss his parents started hiring Vicky to watch him again. They had stopped when he was 13 leaving him to just fend for himself mostly. For the first few months it was mostly bad days for Timmy. He's able to take care of himself a lot better now, and only have bad days sometimes. If you think Vicky was mean to kids, you couldn't imagine how cruel she could be to a 15 year old who mentally was around a confused 9 most the time.

Tootie's obsessive crush had gotten worse and worse as we all got older. Despite what many would think, Vicky is rather protective of her little sister. Which make putting your foot down and telling Tootie off rather hard. Tootie wanted to prove that she'd be by Timmy's side even after his memory loss.

Well lets just say Timmy didn't miss them once AJ help him move to Dimmadelphia. Lasts I heard Tootie got together with that Gary guy, I think he was Timmy's cousin or something. They have kids now.

As for Vicky I heard she works as a private school art teacher and party princess. How she is still working with children I will never know.

[scoobydoodean]

so i’ve always been annoyed by the belief that “sam and dean are toxically co-dependent, especially dean!” like it just baffles me once i remember all the times they’ve been apart without one of them being dead (and actually including post swan song to an extent), but i’ve never been able to properly articulate why i think dean at least isn’t really co-dependent on sam. like there’s a difference between being (co)dependent on somebody and dean’s parentification right? thanks!

I'll preface this by saying I am not a medical professional nor have I studied academic literature on codependency in great detail. That said, "codependency" is usually just a buzzword used colloquially to describe people who are obsessed with each other anyway. I address the colloquial use and how Sam is much more unhinged here. I'm guessing the colloquial use is really more what you mean, but if you're looking for something different or a little more specific than that, I can probably write or point you to some other things I've written if you give me something more specific to go on.

That said, there is something about the way fandom talks about "codependency" between Sam and Dean that bothers me, and I think by reading around about codependency today after I got this ask, and finding out that this term is controversial among mental health professionals as well... I finally figured out why.

I think to a lot of people, "codependent" has become synonymous with words like "needy" and "suffocating". However, the WebMD type articles I started with, suggest that the partner of the codependent party is the one whose needs seem to constantly overshadow and outweigh the needs of the codependent partner in the relationship. While the codependent partner can exhibit negative behaviors, the primary problem of the codependent party is that in being a caretaker, they can lose all sense of their identity and boundaries, and don't know who they are outside of being a caretaker for others. However, this is a more modern take on the term. Because these articles I started with mentioned academic controversy, I then found a few academic papers to skim, and this proved to be even more helpful in understanding why I... don't like this term very much.

First, the historical origins of it are... off-putting. The term "codependency" first emerged in academic literature in the 1940s to describe wives with alcoholic husbands who behave as "enablers" [1, 2]. I probably don't have to point out how different things were for women back then, and how rampantly sexist that context makes this first wave of literature sound, but it's discussed extensively in this article. Second, there is more stigma associated with the term partly because Alcoholics Anonymous (shocking /s) latched onto it starting in the 60s and 70s:

The influence of the AA culture in shaping the concept of codependency as an illness offered the idea that people who were close to the substance user were themselves suffering from an illness (O’Briean and Gaborit 1992). These people were viewed as enablers and coalcoholics (Cotton 1979). [ 1 ]

I... think I am probably not the only one who finds that utterly rancid to read (some academics writing on the subject certainly seem to):

According to Gus Napier, a noted family therapist, it is "ridiculous" to label codependency as a disease, because it is a culturally conditioned response of an overfunctioning person in relationship with an underfunctioning person (Meacham, 1990-1991). [2]

Some researchers who have pushed the term "codependency" as a diagnosis have actually suggested that literally anyone who is living with someone with an addiction should be called co-dependent by definition, regardless of any behavior they may exhibit, which tells you a lot about the lack of consensus and how meaningless the term can be [2]. The term (especially within the disease model where codependency itself is a from of addiction) has been criticized by many researchers for the misogyny through which the term originated, for unproductive negative labeling and pathologizing of people (especially women) dealing with incredibly difficult situations with their loved ones, for victim-blaming people (especially women stuck in abusive relationships) for the actions of their partners, for tangentially—negative stereotyping about people with serious addictions, and for conflating addiction with interpersonal problems, and in the extreme case—for suggesting separation from ones family is the solution to addiction and supporting someone with an addiction somehow always enables them [1, 2].

Since the original stream of literature related to addiction, codependency has rebranded and expanded into literature on family experiences with abuse and mental and physical illness. Which is where we get articles like this one I already linked. The codependent party is still a caretaker in these settings, caring for the needs of a loved one who is ill. Still, "codependency" is not an official medical diagnosis (i.e. not in the DSM-5). It's a term that has been used in academic literature by mental health professionals, when trying to describe a range of behaviors within dysfunctional families. These researchers do not agree on the term's meaning or on whether it even is or should be a diagnosis. Many are interested in it only from an interpersonal or personality perspective, which is also where we should stick.

Taking all of this into account though, I think the very first thing we have to ask ourselves is what exactly we get out of using the term "co-dependency" to describe Sam and/or Dean when the term doesn't even really have an agreed-upon meaning. Is the intention to write interesting character analysis, or is the intention to glorify or criticize using a term that has historically stigmatized understandable human reactions to troubled family situations? I think the goal has perhaps too often been the latter.

That said, I've already been referencing it, but I think this article does a good job of summarizing much of the literature, and then actually focusing on people who do choose, of their own accord, to identify with the term "codependent" because it is helpful for them in understanding their own lived experience and their patterns within relationships. I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting to explore this as it relates to Sam and Dean with the right motivations. If you read the accounts of the respondents who choose to identify with the term, you'll see shades of Sam and Dean I think (I have written something pretty close to the chameleon-self about season 1 Dean, and I can apply that one to Sam too through his attempts to fit in at Stanford). When it comes to my experience with these characters however, I just don't find that I personally see any value in analyzing Sam and Dean through the word "codependent" given it's lack of agreed-upon meaning professionally and colloquially.

It seems to me that the term itself leads to more confusing conversations instead of less confusing ones because of the lack of clear definition, and the potential for negative stereotyping instead of actual edifying analysis is extremely off-putting to me. It just doesn't do anything for me personally. The issues to which it relates I think are interesting (especially parentification which is a term I do find useful), and I think criticisms leveled against the term are also useful to read in understanding ones own struggles with how fandom tends to frame Dean as a caretaker who they believe is actually somehow responsible for everyone else's decisions. But I think that perhaps I prefer words and concepts that are better defined than the muddiness of the term "codependent".

Lastly: Even if I'm not a particular fan of the term, the fact is that the actual show uses the term twice—in season 5 (shoutout to butch--dean's transcript search engine). Once in 5.11 "Sam, Interrupted" (to Dean):

DR. FULLER Well, to be frank, uh, the relationship that you have with your brother seems dangerously codependent. I think a little time apart will do you both good.

First, this dude doesn't really know what's going on and thinks Sam and Dean are having delusions. However, in season 5, Sam's experience with demon blood is repeatedly paralleled with drug or alcohol addiction, and Sam is someone for whom Dean has been made to feel responsible for most of his life. This episode addresses Dean's overly burdensome responsibilities in other ways and it's also come up in the past in 1.12, 2.09, 2.10, and 4.05. I prefer to discuss this theme with much more specific terms. In this case, I would say Dean has an "overactive sense of responsibility to others", originating first with his childhood experiences with parentification. Sam also has a tendency to try and make Dean shoulder responsibility for his decisions when they backfire, and does so multiple times related to the demon blood (4.04, 4.21, 5.05). Cas and Zachariah also both blame Dean for Sam breaking the last seal because he didn't stop him in time (5.01, 5.02) and Bobby criticizes how Dean responds to Sam's addiction (4.22).

And then again in 5.18 "Point of No Return", specifically when Zachariah (my favorite manipulative angel) tries to get Adam to be on his side by basically calling Sam and Dean creepy incestuous weirdos:

ZACHARIAH So you know you can’t trust them, right? You know Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent on each other, right?

This one honestly to me is just Zachariah doing Zachariah things. I'll reach these episodes on my rewatch fairly soon though, so we'll see if I end up talking about it more then.

Bacon, I., McKay, E., Reynolds, F. et al. The Lived Experience of Codependency: an Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis. Int J Ment Health Addiction 18, 754–771 (2020). https://doi.org/10.1007/s11469-018-9983-8

Anderson, S. C. (1994). A Critical Analysis of the Concept of Codependency. Social Work, 39(6), 677–685. http://www.jstor.org/stable/23717128

[lovemyromance]

Antis: “Azriel only feels lust for Elain”

…

Ok. Yeah. Sure. Exactly.

Azriel only feels lust for Elain.

…

Azriel has been a side character thus far in this series, seen and understood only through outsider eyes (Feyre, Nesta, Cassian, Rhys).

According to all his friends/family, he’s absurdly in love with Mor. Or at least he was, until he seemingly moved on

But then in ACOSF, in the ONE POV we get from Azriel…he is showing desire for only Elain.

Now, keep in mind: This is after his interactions with Mor, after his interactions with Gw*n, the hordes of women in Velaris, etc. And yet… he is only showing attraction and feelings for Elain.

If this man just wanted a quickie, you really think he’d have to go to such lengths for that? I’m betting he’s everyone in the IC’s hall pass 😭 This is not a man that needs to elaborately scheme to get laid 😭

And if this man just wanted a mate, you think he’d be chasing after the one female he KNOWS is already mated? He KNOWS she is not his mate. With that logic, wouldn’t he be looking towards anyone BUT Elain?

You can’t be out here saying “Azriel only wants a mate” and then in the same breath saying “Azriel only feels lust”. Which is it? Is he looking for only his partner in eternal-everlasting love or is he just looking for sex? Those two cannot exist at the same time for the same person in one instance.

And before you reply all indignant and huffy, I should tell you that yes, I have heard the ridiculous other explanation from antis saying “well he has a lot of issues so he goes for unavailable women because he’s not ready to be loved and deep down he knows that” 🤡

Do I need to deign that with a response? Now you’re saying “He only wants a mate but he isn’t ready for a mate so he then wants only lust with Elain”. Make it make sense. Please tell me where in his POV it says any of this, and it might help me understand how you came up with all these words. You are making assumptions, on top of assumptions. We do not know ANYTHING about this man. He has ONE POV and in it all he does is dream about Elain and have some banter with his trainee. How are y’all coming up with such a complex, deep layered backstory and user guide for Azriel when we don’t know shit about him?? We don’t even know his last name ffs. How are you out here advocating as his personal therapist??

Just read the words on the page as they are. They paint a clear enough picture.

Call it lust. Call it love. Call it attraction. Call it whatever you want - but there is something worth acknowledging between Elain and Azriel. Something important enough that SJM published an entire bonus chapter about it.

People speculated they might be a thing throughout ACOMAF-ACOFAS, but then that bonus chapter came out and clear as day you can see them so down bad for each other, they’re ready to risk it all while everyone’s still snoring upstairs. You think either of them would’ve risked that for a one-night stand 🤡🤡?

….

And do we really think if the next book was Azriel x Other Character, SJM would start it off with him fantasizing about getting on his knees for another woman? Sure the very first love interest might not be endgame for SJM… but both Az & Elain have had other LIs (Mor, Graysen, Lucien even). They are not each others first, but they are certainly each others last.

They are the only pairing currently mutually attracted to each other. They aren’t fully in love yet (that we know of), but there is something there. That’s what their book will then explore. The idea that despite fate, despite politics, despite everything against them, Az & Elain will choose each other.

But I thought that was obvious 🤷🏻‍♀️

[elcpsstuff]

The Summer I Remembered You (C.F) (Part 20)

even when I don’t, I almost do. Because I love you.

—

A/N: You guys i’m actually sobbing while writing this! The last part is here and i’m honestly feeling so many emotions right now. From the first chapter to now seeing how every character as grown just makes my heart absolutely melt ahh. This is the last part but when season 3 comes out who knows, there might be a sequel;) (no promises) !! I love you all sooo much and please enjoy this really long chapter <3

—

There’s not many ways to categorize Susannah. She’s not just a mother figure to me. She’s the beach house on sunny days and all weather accompanied and when I do a lot of things I think about her.

I’ll never forget the day my parents died. I might have been young but it’s one of the first things I remember. John and Laurel running to the house with Steven and Belly in the car, and a confused 6 year old waiting for her parents to get home. Come home to me.

Apparently, therapy sessions are the way to fix someone who was categorized as broken like me. I got taken to countless different therapists but what was I supposed to say? Like ‘yeah i’m pretty sad about my parents dying but i’ll get over it.’

The first summer that went by without my parents, I went to the beach house. I had gone two times before that but this time was truly my first visit. To me it was.

I don’t remember much, but I do remember Susannah. According to her (and laurel) I cried for hours in my room, assuming it was about my parents. Everybody left me alone until my whales became too loud and Susannah couldn’t help but step in.

She walked into my room, not forgetting to shut the door and sat on the edge of my bed. “Yn? Sweetie?”

“Y- yeah?” I covered my tears in hopes that I would just look groggy from a nap but I obviously failed, miserably.

“What’s going on?” She cooed at me while brushing some strands of hair out my face.

“I miss them.. my.. my—”

“I know you do. I’m sorry it had to be this way yn..” I still remembered her voice to this day, in that room. It was so soothing sometimes I requested her to come in and talk to me before bed.

“Can I tell you something yn?”

I nodded weakly, “mhm..”

She held me in her arms while whispering a soft melody in my ear before saying; “This beach house is as much yours as mine. Okay? Your here and apart of us now. Of me.”

I smiled at the thought before falling deep asleep.

I was always close with Susannah after that, as much as I could be. Sometimes summer wasn’t enough.

Now, i’m sobbing all my makeup off into the sheets Susannah picked out for this house. Conrad really was right when he said it— she’s everywhere and everything in this house. Picked out ever wall color and every single piece of furniture.

I used to love to look at the things Susannah did for this house, it reminded me of her. Now- I can’t even look at the walls without crying. Because soon she’ll only be a memory.

Belly’s cries in my ear were more heartbreaking than I could have imagined. Me, Belly, and Laurel were all stuck together on the bed like peas in a pod. Laurel crying was something I never thought I would see and now I wished I hadn’t.

“I just feel so stupid. This whole summer has been about me and Susannah had been dying of cancer.”

I almost wanted to tell Belly not to, not to say it. She had no right. But she did, because she really really was dying. That was the reality of the matter. I can only imagine Jeremiah and Conrad if we’re crying this bad. It breaks my heart.

“That’s how she wanted it though,” Laurel whispers, “One last perfect summer in cousins.”

One last perfect summer. Was this the end? It hit me then, maybe it was the end. Conrad would be going off to college in the fall and me, Jeremiah, and Steven were all going into our senior years. Even Belly was growing. She wasn’t far off from college either.

“It’s just not fair,” I add in, sobbing through my words. “Why does she have to go? It’s.. it’s..”. Horrible. Not fair. So many things that I want to say but my choked cries hold me back.

The door creaks open and a very sad looking Steven creeps into the room. His eyes are draped and tears stained his face. Shakily, he said, “She’s not gonna get better is she?”

When Laurel shakes her had no, my cries come faster as well as Belly’s. Steven runs to the other side of the bed and climbs in next to Laurel, tears dripping on her red dress. He was like a little kid, the way he got into bed and held onto Laurel for dear life, like every child held their mother.

It was just us 3, crying and crying and repeated murmurs of ‘it’s not fair’ and an occasional I love you.

—

Laurel cooking only meant one thing, we were fucked.

It’s no secret Susannah’s cooking has always been a fan favorite of ours, and not Laurel’s.

We all gathered around the table and for the first time this summer we felt like family. True and honest family. Me and Belly had changed from our dresses because Susannah didn’t want us to be uncomfortable, but the boys were still in their tuxes.

Everyone’s eyes were littered with dry tears and everybody was also blood shot red in the eyes. I’d never seen Conrad look so tired and broken, it almost makes me feel horrible for crying so hard.

He still looked good though, really good.

“Okay, guys.” Susannah clears her throat before gently pushing out of her seat, getting our attention.

“I.. I think,” Susannah’s eyes wonder to Jeremiah and Conrad before she speaks. Her face is glowing with a smile only Susannah has. It’s for her boys. Conrad and Jeremiah.

Jeremiah was her sunshine boy, the kind’ve boy that still hugged their mother even though they were probably too old for it. He was good to her. Not that Conrad wasn’t, not at all. It was just different. Conrad affection was deep and hidden but Susannah could pull it out of him. He would do anything for her, absolutely anything even if he hated it.

“I think i’m gonna do the trial.” Conrad and Jeremiah’s face lit up in smiles that I had missed dearly and mine wasn’t too far behind. It might have been a long shot, but it was hope. Hope that things could be okay. It’s no secret things would never be the same again, but if we could be okay, that was good enough for me. For all of us.

“It’s gonna work, mom.” Jeremiah says with pleading eyes and my heart can’t help but melt at the sight. He always had so much hope that things would work out, and as much as I wanted to believe him, I knew it all to well. I didn’t wanna think about it, though. Because loosing Susannah would be like loosing my parents all over again, but worse. I know Susannah, more than I ever knew them.

“It doesn’t matter,” Susannah grabs Laurel’s hand and squeezes it tight, “You all ate here. It’s the best thing I could ever ask for.”

And with that, we ate.

For the first time since the news came out, laughter filled this table. It filled our lungs and our hearts and I never missed Jeremiah and Stevens jokes. Conrad even threw one in occasionally.

This was good. We were gonna be okay.

Dinner came and went and it was late by the time we finished, but I was up like a hawk. At 11 o’click the house started winding down and yawns were heard.

I walked into the kitchen to grab my phone, only to see Jeremiah sitting at the counter. I knew I needed to talk to him. It was a long time coming.

“Hey..” I say quietly, but it was loud enough for him to hear me.

He smiles lightheartedly, “Hey.” I did not want to know if he was angry at me still because it would hurt too much. Jeremiah was amazing at holding grudges, which shouldn’t be a compliment but it sure does drive the other person crazy.

“So,” I tap my fingers across the counter in a state of worry, “Are.. we good?”

A sigh comes from his mouth, and I only can hope he’s not up to fight, because I sure as hell aren’t. “Did you know about Susannah’s cancer? Did Conrad tell you?” Those were the last words I expected to come out his mouth.

He was there, when I asked what was going on. How could he assume I knew? Was he that angry about me and Conrad that he would accuse me of hiding it?

“How could you even think that?” There’s no disgust in my voice, just pure sadness. He was bitter, bitter that he didn’t know. Don’t let him get to you.

“You and Conrad kept a lot of secrets, what’s one more?” Unlike me, his voice is laced with disgust and after the night I had tonight, I would be the last to deal with it.

“Right. Glad to know where you stand.” I spin on my heel but before I can reach the door a shriek comes out of Jeremiah’s mouth.

“I liked you, you know.”

I turn around and look at the boy in front of me with a puzzled face. He liked me? Are you serious?

Where was he when I wanted his attention? I remember the nights I would long for Jeremiah, when I believed Conrad didn’t want me. I might have longed for Jeremiah to try and forget about Conrad, but I still longed for him.

“Don’t do that. You like Belly.”

He shakes his head and my heart begins to accelerate.

“I know you used to like me too.” What was he saying? Assuming? This was crazy. Just fucking crazy and my brain can’t handle any more of this. “I know it was one summer. Conrad and you weren’t talking as much because he was busy with football camp. You got crazy jealous of me talking to Belly. I- I never believed I had a chance with you yn, so I never showed that I cared. But I did.”

It’s true. The summer Conrad was going into Sophomore year his dad had him on a constant grind for football. Make no mistake, I missed him like hell but I did gather some sort of feeling for Jeremiah during that time. It lingered, but as soon as Conrad came it was gone.

None of us were perfect. If Belly had some sort of attraction for both of the boys, would it be so crazy to believe I once did too? Not too long ago?

But it’s always been clear as day, who I loved. Love.

I always believed love would be gray with anyone else but Conrad. He made it golden. Shades of gray hidden in the sunset that would only come out for me, along with my feelings for him.

What was I supposed to say? He wasn’t wrong. I did like him a little bit, even at the beginning of this summer. But it was only because I hid my truth about Conrad. I needed to get away from him and shamefully, Jeremiah was right there.

“If I wouldn’t known- I would’ve maybe—”

“Jeremiah, stop.”

His eyes widen and this is the last thing I want. To cause this poor boy any more drama than what’s been produced. His face turns from hopeful and pleading to knowing. All fucking knowing.

“You love him, don’t you?”

My heart beat slows, and I look Jeremiah dead in the eye, making sure he knows the truth. I want him to know so we can get over this because I need Jeremiah, my buddy. Not a lover.

“I think I almost do.” Is all I can manage to say.

Jeremiah says nothing but only nods in response. It’s quiet for a moment before I begin to tread away, only to be stopped again.

“Just tell me this, if I would’ve confessed, would it had changed anything?”

No. It wouldn’t have.

“It’s been a long day, Jeremiah.” I don’t hear a response as I tread up the stairs.

—

My feet tread on the wooden floors, creaking noises coming every now and then. It was late. Half past 12 and like most nights lately, sleep couldn’t consume me like it used to be able to.

Luckily, I wasn’t alone.

Outside my door, I peered through another to see Susannah sat on her bed. She looked sad, so unlike Susannah. Something compelled me to walk in there.

Susannah was sitting on her bed staring up at the ceiling. It was almost weird— seeing her look so solemn. Like she had come to peace with it.

She smiled at me when I walked in and motioned for me to take the spot next to her on the bed. I did.

“Cant sleep?” She whispers.

I shake my head rapidly, because I can’t. I cant sleep knowing a women like Susannah is being put through this. She’s so pure, so pure in a world of evil.

“I don’t mean to bother you.”

“You could never bother me, special girl.” I already feel the tears coming on my face, and one stray tear dripped. I wiped it quickly.

“I’m so sorry, Susannah.” I sit next to her quickly. Her face turns sad and droopy which was the last thing I intended considering this day already didn’t go as planned. I needed to change the mood. “How.. how is Conrad? Is he okay?”

An all knowing smile reaches Susannah’s face, and I already know what’s coming next. “He’s doing okay. I hated him seeing him cry. I always do.”

That was the truth. I hated seeing Conrad cry too. It had only happened a couple of times, and It would always take me 15 minutes or so to recover from it. The way his eyes cried for help and were bloodshot red, almost like he was begging for someone to save him. I had wanted that for years. To save him and to be engulfed in his arms.

“I hate it too.” I whisper and a choked sob comes out of my mouth. Susannah, being Susannah notices right away. Always putting others above herself.

“He’s loved you since he was 10, you know.” Now it was her turn to speak through a yelp and cry. I broke at the sight. Tears were streaming down both of our faces but I was too delirious to care. “He came up to me, called you so pretty at a young age. You’ve always been his weakness, you know that.”

I shrug, “Things got really complicated Susannah, too quick and too fast.”

“Don’t let him push you away. He loves you. He’s in love with you.” Those words spilled all over me like a warm shower. Lathering me in love and affection, all by the man Conrad Fisher.

Susannah holds my arm, rubbing my thumb gently, “Do.. do you love him too?”

I don’t even wait, I just nod. Nod and nod until my head feels like it’s hurting because I do. I really do. He’s everything to me. It’s not often you find your lover and best friend in one.

He really is my everything. My Conrad.

“Yes.”

Susannah pulls me in and now i’m sobbing against her chest. Who cares if the house hears? This women is dying in front of me and i’ll i’ve done this whole summer is be consumed in my own drama. Belly was right, even if we didn’t know it we were selfish.

“I’m so sorry, I was so— selfish.”

I feel Susannah move her head against me. “No, no. This is how I wanted it. I wanted it to be about you girls. And the guys. I wanted all the petty fights and talk about boys because that’s what summer is to you guys. A time to just be.”

She was right. Summer was intertwined with everything good in my life. Conrad, Susannah, Jeremiah, and the rest of my family. From running on the beach at 7 and playing with the football and attempting to crash the boys plans with Belly at night. It was all so good. So right.

Susannah pulls me out of her chest and tucks a hair behind my ear, “Yn. I know this hasn’t always been easy. But your here now, okay? One day, when I’m gone—" I go to fight her but she shakes her head, silencing me. “When i’m gone, it’s up to you and Belly to keep the magic going. If anyone can, it’s you two.”

I hoped and prayed. I really did.

“Your my special girl, yn.”

We hugged for what felt like hours, crying and holding each other. Around 1am, I crept into bed, sobs occasionally catching my lips every now and then. My heavy eyes slowly found it’s way into some sort of sleep.

—

The tide was low in the morning.

I wouldn’t exactly call it sleep, what I got. More like an hour or so of being in this dream state. Where susannah was okay and wasn’t dying and that we would be coming to cousins like normal. Every summer.

He was there. In his suit still looking like a work of art. Straight out of a Taylor Swift love song (wildest dreams, to be exact. I would always rant to Frankie about how that’s his song.)

His hair was sloppy in the wind and his shirt was all wrinkled. That’s the thing about Conrad though. Even in the worst of times, he still looks beautiful. His blue irises don’t shine the same blue that Jeremiah’s does.

Conrad is dark. Dark dark dark and some more. Jeremiah’s blue ocean eyes hold some sense of purity to them. I could even get lost in them. They’re so bright with purpose. When I looked into Conrad’s eyes, the blue was different. So confusing and at times I feel like one day it’ll devour me.

He was a deep guy, Conrad. Something Jeremiah would never be, even if he tried his hardest to mold that personality of his. I could sit for hours and talk about the meaning of life with Conrad and he would sit and stare, maybe adding in his thoughts. Jeremiah would go on his phone within minutes.

It wasn’t a bad thing, that Jeremiah didn’t do that. He wasn’t Conrad, he shouldn’t have to be. But even If I tried to tell him that it would be too late, the complex already set so horribly in. No matter what anyone does it’ll be ingrained in him. I just hoped it wouldn’t consume him.

I plopped down next to him, digging my feet into the sand from how nervous I was. I didn’t know what he was gonna say to me.

There was a small gap between us, one that was definable but not to an extent. Conrad played with his fingers and for a moment it was just pure silence.

I liked the waves. They were calming.

“I can’t believe she said yes.” Conrad words are vibrant, more than they had been this entire summer. His face twisted into a smile and my heart melted at the sight.

I awkwardly look down towards the sand and make a little heart in it. “I mean- it’s all thanks to you. You changed her mind, Conrad.”

He shakes his head, “No, no, it was Jere. Not me.”

I gulp down the words that itch to come out of my throat, so many things I want to say. Where do I start? I’ve been in love with you since I was 10 years old. It’s only been you? Even when my heart tried to make me believe it was Jeremiah or possibly Josh, it was always you. How do I tell him that after everything?”

The silence became noticeable because he twisted his lips like he always does when he feels guilty or is out of words to say, to fill the void.

“I’m sorry for being so shitty, this entire summer.”

“I mean.. you were going through this all alone. I- it couldn’t have been easy..” I try and reason for him because I do feel horrible. It doesn’t excuse anything, but it makes it all just sorta make sense.

“Doesn’t make it right. Not for you, at least.”

His tone conveys something much more intimate than either of us are ready to take on right now. I get up off the sand, Conrad following my actions suit.

“Conrad… you- you really need someone right now and I just.. can’t be the person you fall on. Not after everything.” By everything, the love i’ve held for this boy. All the years and lies and the time we even had sex, it’s all too much. He’s either in or out, I can’t climb over and pull him half way. That’s on him.

“I need you.”

I shake my head again, “No. No more needing.” Want. I want him to want me. He reads my mind before tucking a strand behind my face.

“I want you. You know that.”

“How?” I whisper.

“Because I love you. I’ve been in love with you since I was 12. I- I don’t know when it happened, but one day it just came to me. I can’t shake it since. Maybe it was always there.”

Conrad fucking Fisher, pouring his heart out was not to go unnoticed. Rare were the times he showed emotion, and for anyone to take it to granted was crazy.

“And you think I haven’t?” My whisper is almost like a cry. Hadn’t it been so obvious? I loved this boy with every fiber in my body. My heart called to him. He was better than Noah from the notebook and better than Rhett. He was Conrad.

“I know you have. But I do too, I really do.”

Conrad’s fingers graze my cheek and I look up into his impossibly blue eyes. He flinches a little before moving in closer to me. My eyes linger to his lips and his does the same.

When our lips touch, I could’ve cried from the feeling. It was much different than any other time. It wasn’t needy or so heart gripping I didn’t think I would survive it, it was calm.

His hands cupped my face and we pull away for a brief moment. I don’t miss the smile he gives me before pulling me in for another one. I wrap my arms around his waist and he’s really making all the moves. Eventually I find myself playing with the backs of his hairs.

When we pull away, he still holds me, almost afraid to let go. A small laugh escapes my lips.

“What?” He says so softly yet amused.

“Nothing, I just…” Everything.

“I can’t believe your really here.”

—

Leaving cousins was always the worst. The packing, looking at the house once last time before returning for 9 months. This time as different though.

Fall comes round always too quick for my liking, almost like the seasons trying to rid out memories of summer. But summer was intertwined in all of our memories like a cord. Nothing would sever that.

Steven was an early acceptance into Princeton. After all of his hard work, Steven accomplished his 4 year old dream of walking down the school halls shouting that he got into Princeton.

Belly was doing good. Her grades were always subpar like mine which was something we always bonded about. Always lifting each other up when Steven drowns us with his smart antics.

And me? I’m currently sat in my car parked in the parking lot for Brown.

Conrad told me he’d meet me by these benches that he sent me a picture of, so I guess I would have to gauge off of that.

Once I got out of the car, I grabbed my bag of necessities while closing the door and locking the car. I smiled to myself and for a moment I was lost. Just fucking lost.

I can’t believe you’re really here.

Those words clung with me like the dust hangs to my shirt. That day is forever ingrained in my memory. I’ll never forget that moment, no matter what happens. It was almost like a promise, that this was really the beginning.

I began to walk through the crowd of people, searching aimlessly. I would spot him out in a heartbeat, but there were a shit ton of people.

That’s when I saw him, in this cute little stripped polo top, looks down at his phone. I’m guessing it was to text me but the excitement that fills my body is blocking off all of my conscious.

When he looks up, the biggest fucking smile covers his face. I start walking towards him and drop my bags, running into his arms.

“You’re here.” He mumbles into my shoulder. He was feeling me, I understand why. I had to touch his hairs to make sure he’s real too. But he his.

“Yeah, i’m here.”

Conrad takes my bag like the gentlemen he is, and the whole walk to his room he’s staring at me. I meet his eyes occasionally but look away for the most part.

Once we get to his room, I can’t help but notice how neat his side is compared to his roommates, Trusky. He wasn’t here, but It was obvious to tell who’s sides who.

“I was thinking we could maybe go for lunch or something?” Conrad places my bag down and then kicks his foot lightly against the wood of his desk. He looked like a little kid asking for a cookie.

“Whatever you want.” I say with a innocence to my voice.

Conrad smirks and I shut the door behind us. When I turn around, Conrad wraps his arms around me and spins me around lightly. I can’t help the giggle that emerges.

Conrad throws me on the bed right before laying down next to me. “I missed you so much.”

“Me too.” The glimmer in both of our eyes is something I would carry with me. The hope, the want. I knew this was our start, just the very first page. A sea of blue was conjuring in his eyes, and I was about to be sucked into it.

Instead of going to lunch, me and Conrad lost track of time and talked and kissed and did some more talking. It was refreshing.

“How’s Belly?” Conrad asks me.

I shrug, “She’s good. I mean, we’re good. I think her and Jere have been talking a lot.” Conrad raises his eyebrows and licks his lips. “You know what? I swore I heard them talking when I came over to the house last weekend.”

I smirk, “I think she’s happy.”

“He is too.”

The second me and Conrad got together, I told him about what Jeremiah said to me. He had told me not to worry and that Jeremiah was just being emotional.

But seeing Jeremiah so happy, it makes me happy. Belly, too. I think it warms us all a bit that we can all just, be.

“I talked to your mom the other day.”

A radiant smile, only that he shares for Susannah peaks through cracks of Conrad’s mouth. “Ah, really? What’d she say?”

“Said shes doing good. Also said your a fucking goofball.”

“Fuck you!” Conrad smacks my forehead lightly, always making sure not to legitimately hurt me. I loved that about him. “Hey, I have an idea.”

“What?”

I can’t believe this man.

When Conrad said he knew a place, I didn’t really know what he was talking about. I just went with the flow.

Only Conrad fucking Fisher would take me stargazing. That part of my heart was left for him. Only for him. He places a blanket on the grass and motions me to sit down with him.

It was a deserted little place, 20 minutes away from the campus. It was cozy.

I lay down next to Conrad and a small breeze hits me, making me shiver. Conrad wraps his arms around me almost instinctively, placing a kiss on top of my forehead.

“This is nice.” I breathe out.

“mhm.” Conrad hums and every now and then he places kisses on my cheeks and lips. I don’t stop him.

“I love you.” He mumbles in between kisses and eventually the kisses become more needy, more wanting. I felt the deja vu running through my veins.

Conrad slips a hand under my shirt and I pull away quickly. His face turns a crimson shade of red that even I can see in the night, “Fuck— I’m sorry—”

“No, no.” I place my hands on his shoulder. “I just uh—you’re the only.. my um.”

“Oh.” Conrad nods his head in understanding.

“I just, promise me it won’t be like last time?” Even though i knew this was clearly different, I don’t know if I’d ever be able to forget that night. It’s ingrained in my head, everything. Every move, motion, the way his hands curved my body, everything.

“I promise.” I smile and my hands slip under his shirt, slowly taking it off. His body was good, really good. Conrad always was beautiful but in the night was when I found him most enchanting. The way his jaw was extra defined and how his hair fell down.

Conrad is slow to pull my top off, and he stares at me in the thick of the night. “You’re beautiful.”

“Your stuttering, Fisher, have you lost you’re touch?”

“Oh your in for it now.” Conrad leans down and kisses me neck, inching down to my collar bone and a soft moan escapes my lips.

This was beautiful, he was beautiful.

My childhood best-friend, my Conrad.

I’d love him forever, every single part of him. I’ve laughed, Cried, hell, i’ve done so many things for him. But this is the beginning, I know it is.

I lean down to look at the infinity necklace hanging off of my chest, which Conrad has traced circles around. It’s true, I would go endlessly around those curves for him.

I hit myself thinking about how badly i wanted to forget him, but this summer only made me remember him.

Conrad Fisher.

—

THATS IT YALLLL!! I’m crying rn this story means so much to meeee :)) I can’t say it’s fully over because who knows what the future holds (thanks for the quote belly) But i love you all so much and I hope to have more projects soon! Also love that cheesy ass ending 🫶🏻

tag list: @kkrenae @callsignwidow @drikawinchester @johannelis2302nely @allnrsnz @galaxy13sworld @paytonloiselle @i-think-you-are-gr8 @imaspecialpersonwhoneedshelp @awatt31 @user0440822 @jackierose902109 @chocolatefartstrawberry @whoisjellyellie @apollo3475 @watercolorskyy

(tag list never works ugh)

[arachnoia]

finally ➶ . ˚ ༉‧₊˚ˑ༄ؘ | miguel o’hara

miguel o’hara x fem! reader (nsfw!)

a/n: this is an odd series but um. yeah I don’t know. but nevertheless thank you so much for the support of this little series! it means a lot !

pls pls gimmie requests! ya girl is dying from writer’s block and I neeeeed ideassss pleaseee

warnings- nsfw, riding, unprotected sex, p in v, untranslated spanish, a lil bit of angst, third and final part to gone and holy shock! (idk how to make warnings 😭)

- 1: gone -2: holy shock

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“What the hell? He doesn’t mean it, according to you?”

Peter probably tried to make you feel better with that. But he didn’t. He didn’t mean it? Was it a prank? Because it’s a shitty ass prank if it was.

“Yup! Just talk to him about it!!” Peter said enthusiastically.

“But if he didn’t mean it?”

“Miguel’s all bark-“

“No, he isn’t!” you said, your voice cracking immensely. You started to cry a little bit more. “He hurt me with that, Peter.”

Peter’s gaze softened as he gave you another hug to your sobbing figure.

“He hurt me so so bad with that. Notes are usually supposed to be small and have a small affect on a person. Usually it’s positive but goddamn.”

“It’s okay, kid.” He said, rubbing your back.

You sniffled and stood up from where you were sitting. The sky was already starting to turn into an indigo color and that was your sign to go home.

And cry, of course.

“Peter, I think it’s best if I go back home…”

“Okay, here, hold the baby,” He said as he held out Mayday in front of you, giving you a dopey smile.

You smiled slightly, “What?”

“It’ll make you feel better. This kid’s got some superpowers, man.”

You held Mayday and smiled at the redhead child. “She’s as beautiful as MJ.”

You gave Mayday a hug and gave her back to Peter.

“See ya tomorrow, kid. Talk to him, okay?” Peter said, giving you a stern look.

“Okay. Bye, Peter. Thank you,” you said, waving goodbye and opening an opening to your universe.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Yeah okay, he’s totally way outta line!”

Peter decided to tell MJ what happened. He didn’t know how to exactly help you so he decided to ask MJ.

MJ fumed because she met you a few times and you had her full respect. She didn’t care that Peter was friends with Miguel, she was pissed.

He’s not good at being a friendship therapist.

“I told her to just talk to him. I’m not sure I did the right thing though,” Peter frowned and glanced over at Mayday who was sleeping peacefully, snuggling with her Spider-man plush.

“I think you did the right thing. I mean aren’t they dating?”

Peter jerked his head towards MJ and widened his eyes. “Wait what?”

She nodded, “Peter, it sounds like Y/n and Miguel are having trouble in paradise.”

“WOAH THERE. Miguel? The grumpy, stompy, depressed guy? With Y/n? The also grumpy but as much of an ass as Miguel girl? What?”

MJ laughed. “Well Peter, I assumed because whenever you talked about them before, those two always seemed a little too close to be just friends?”

Peter had an epiphany, “Holy shiitake mushrooms…”

“The way they look at each other…You thought they were friends, Peter?”

Peter looked shocked, “THAT’S WHAT Y/N TOLD ME!”

MJ scoffed, “Maybe they are. But I don’t know, Peter! Friends don’t exactly do that!”

“WHAT?”

MJ went over to Peter and held his shoulder. “Just let them be okay? I trust whatever Y/n is going to do.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You teleported to your universe, ending up on the top of your apartment building. You accidentally tripped and cut your leg on a piece of metal on the ground. “Ah, fuck.”

You limped to your apartment and turned on the living room lights just a bit, enough for you to see where to go.

You went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit and jumped as you turned on the bathroom lights.

“Are you alright?”

The hairs on your neck stood up as you stared at him behind you from the mirror. You felt chills across your spine as you made eye contact with his crimson red eyes.

He turned you around by the shoulders so you would look at him in the face. “I asked you if you’re alright?”

“How did you get in here.” You said, your voice cold and stern, making his eyes soften.

“You had your window open and the lights are on.”

“That doesn’t give you an invitation to come in.”

He shrugged. “It gave you an invitation last time.”

You frowned and tried to free yourself from his grasp. “Fuck you. Leave me the fuck alone-”

“Y/n, let me explain-”

Your eyes widened angrily. “Didn’t you want me GONE from your life? What the fuck happened to that? YOU LEFT ME!”

Miguel froze and stood back from you. You were already a crying mess from before and he noted how puffy your eyes were from your living room’s dim lighting.

All the sadness disappeared and all you felt was anger.

“Do you know how much I cared for you? And all you do is leave me and leave me a pathetic little note that you hate me?” You then walked over to him and slapped him. “How fucking DARE you.”

His eyes pierced through you as he whispered. “Cared? So you don’t anymore…?”

“Oh I didn’t say that. I hate myself for still caring for you, right now,” you said, feeling tears spill from your eyes again.

He put his hands in his face in frustration. “I did that because I care for you. I don’t want you to be hurt if you were to be with me, or for me to be hurt if I lose you.”

You looked at him and pouted, “Oh really, Miguel? You care for me?”

His face softened. “Yeah, cariño.”

Your face shifted to a calm look. “You still hurt me either way, you fucking idiot. You think i’m going to take that lameass excuse?”

He froze. “I hurt you?”

You smiled sadistically, “Did you think I was going to smile and laugh after seeing that bullshit? Oh ‘I want you gone from my life’ ahahaha! Give me a fucking break.”

You never thought you’d see the day Miguel O’Hara would go on his knees and start sobbing.

For you.

“I’m…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just didn’t want to hurt you,” he sobbed.

You felt a little cruel for wanting to laugh at his face. How was he going to fuck you and hurt you a few hours later?

That shit doesn’t make sense.

The silence was loud, giving you time to think until you finally spoke.

“How sorry are you?”

He looked up from his position and stared at you. “You can’t imagine how sorry I am.”

You smiled at him, “Show me how sorry you are.” You said calmly.

You held a staring contest with him as you took your suit off, showing off your toned body, leaving little to the imagination with your red panties and blue bra.

His concerned look turned dark yet he still froze.

It matched his suit.

You lead him on the couch and cradled him once he sat down.

“C’mon, babyyy. Show me!” you moaned, going to kiss his neck as you feel a wave of his cologne hit your nose.

It was your favorite cologne.

You felt adrenaline go through your veins. You didn’t know what else to do and remembered how good last night felt, although the end isn’t what you wanted.

It was irrational and impulsive, you know that. But he wanted you to forgive him and he did say he’ll do anything.

“Ay dios…Fuck-“ he groaned as you grinded against his erected member, making your pussy throb even more.

He stretched his arm to press the button on his watch to take off his suit, leaving him naked.

You panted and smiled. “So you really are naked under there? Thought it was just me being delusional.”

He smirked and licked his lips. “It’s all real, baby.”

You bit your lips as his lips started to big in your neck and breasts, leaving more bites. “Show me how sorry you really are, hermoso. F-Fuck!”

He steadily fingered and abused your throbbing clit as your soft moans fueled him to go even faster.

He then stood up and turned you around to gain some support from the couch as your ass faced him. You felt your panties and bra be ripped off by his claws.

“F-Fuck you, that was my favorite pair.”

“Aw? Was it because it reminded you of me?” He laughed, his dick grazing your wet vagina.

“J-Just put it in already, O’Hara!” you screamed, grabbing his dick yourself and putting it in. The both of you moaned as pleasure shot through both of you.

“H-Harder, O’Hara! Show m-me how much you’re sorry!”

He started slapping your ass continuously as he went in and out of you. He started groaning as you were grinding against him again, “Asi, mami. Fuckkkk.”

You felt him twitch and immediately took him out of you. He looked at you angrily. “Pa’que haces eso?!”

“Not my fault you were going to come already. It’s been what? 30 seconds? Can’t you go longer?” you teased.

You switched positions and faced him as you had your legs spread out. He held them in order to then go into you again, only much more aggressive and faster.

You smiled and kissed him as he went aggressive on your sensitive pussy. “Mmmm fuck…”

He grabbed onto your legs a little too strong, making you wince from your injury from earlier but he still kept going and going.

You felt him smile in the kiss too and he went even faster.

The room was filled with a symphony of skin slapping and moaning, with the occasional curses Miguel let out in Spanish.

It felt so wrong, but so fucking good.

“P-Princesa please. I’m gonna come-“ he said as he painted your walls and insides white once again. Shortly after, you reached your high and was grinding on him once again.

“Oh-Oh fuckkk Miguel!” you couldn’t help but claw at his shoulders from the pleasure crash you were experiencing.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom, princesa,” he said, as he carried you there.

He placed you on top of him as he entered in you again and you started riding his dick, which was hard again.

You started to make out with him again and moaned in the kiss. “Mmm fuck. Just like that, baby.”

He grabbed and squeezed your ass before he started spanking and he left your ass with several imprints of his hands.

He started attacking your breasts and massaged them as you rode his dick even faster.

You felt him twitch again as you clenched on his dick and smiled. “So soon?”

He threw his head back and grunted, “S-Shock-“

You laughed as he finished again, leaving the in between of your legs a sticky, white mess once more.

You went for a few more rounds until he tired himself out and knocked out.

“Already so tired, Miguel?” you said as he spooned you. He groaned as a response and closed his eyes.

This is what you always wanted; being in his arms as he protected you. The sex was just the cherry on top to a good fantasy come reality.

“I love you, cariño,” he whispered as he then fell asleep.

You smiled at him and stayed like that. You waited until you were certain he was knocked out and let yourself go from his grasp.

Lucky for you, you had an expresso shot so you didn’t feel so tired. You just felt a bit sore.

You took a quick shower and suited up with a new accessory you made.

You went over to your bedroom, being met with Miguel still knocked out in your bed. You smiled at the sight as he snored a bit.

“I’m just going to leave you a little note here if that’s okay? I’ll get going, cariño.”

“I’ll be gone for now, ” You kissed his forehead again while leaving a note next to his side of the bed along with your watch. You watched him for a bit before your face and tone went cold.

You went down to his level and whispered darkly as you smiled.

“I quit.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it!” Peter was pacing around outside of Miguel’s office and has been for 10 minutes.

MJ had Mayday for the day and Peter felt remorse for you, so he was going to stick up for you.

He felt bad that you went through this.

He understood Miguel was an ass to the average person but you two were friends to crying out loud!

It wasn’t until the door opened, revealing a fuming Miguel, stomping towards Peter.

“O-Oh h-hey Miguel-“

Miguel glared at Peter and scoffed, “Cut the shit, Peter. Where the fuck is Y/l/n?”

Peter raised his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said. Where. Is. She? Lyla?”

Lyla popped out from behind him and saluted, “Yes sir?”

“Find Y/l/n. I need to speak with her.”

Lyla frowned, “I’m trying but Miguel, she doesn’t have her watch and I can’t find her!”

Miguel looked even more upset. “THEN TRY HARDER!” Lyla’s eyes widened as she started to look even further, tracking your dimension history.

“U-Uh Miguel ? Are you alright?” Peter was a little frightened.

It’s obvious how terrifying Miguel O’Hara is when he’s angry.

“You. You were the last person to see her before-“ He stopped himself and bit his lip.

“You were just the last person to see her. Where is she?”

Peter frowned, “Well isn’t she in her dimension?”

“YOU THINK I HAVEN’T TRIED LOOKING THERE?”

Peter frowned at Miguel. “W-Well, if you weren’t such an asshole to her, maybe this wouldn’t have never had happ-“

Miguel pointed at Peter angrily, “Don’t you dare tell me what to do. You’re the last person I want to be lectured by.”

He turned around and walked back into his office, before Lyla spoke.

“I think I have something?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You smiled as you enjoyed the scenery of Nueva York once again, enjoying an empanada.

Alone.

Your heart stung. It would have been better with Miguel. You already got your revenge but he probably doesn’t care enough to say something.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Hola mi amor!” Doña Rosa greeted, waving at your entrance. “The usual?”

You nodded as you smiled. “Yes, please. Just one though.” She nodded and went into the kitchen.

Doña Rosa’s husband pointed at you, confused. “Donde está ese chavo? Miguel, is it?”

As Doña Rosa finished packing up, she nodded. “Yeah mija! Something happened?”

You nodded. “It’s nothing! Don’t worry!”

Doña Rosa and her husband looked at each other and smiled at you.

“Whatever’s going on, I’m sure everything will be alright!”

“Hopefully, señora…Hopefully.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You stopped munching on your empanada as you felt your Spider sense go off, but ignored it, thinking it was a bird.

That is, until you saw two web shots in a scarlet orange in your direction.

“Y/L/N!” Your body froze as you heard that familiar scream from behind you. He sounded so angry.

You had your suit but had a sweater on top. Which happened to be his.

You couldn’t bring yourself to give it back and it’s really comfortable.

You stood up and backed away.

He had his suit, except his mask, revealing his angry face.

Maybe you were being delusional again but it looked like he was crying.

“Miguel-“

He went over to you and hugged you, stuffing his face in your hair. He’s always liked the smell of your hair.

“I’m so sorry. I’m really really sorry.” he muttered, hugging you tighter.

You didn’t know what to say. You just stood there frozen.

“I- I just didn’t want you hurt and what I did was selfish but I didn’t know how hurt you felt until you did the same to me. And I’m so fucking sorry.”

You felt him tremble a bit, maybe because he was crying again. You heard his voice crack again.

“Please forgive me…” You patted his back and smiled.

“I forgive you. I’m sorry too.”

He smiled. “I see you’re wearing my sweater,” he pulled on the drawstring and laughed.

“It’s just comforting, don’t take it to heart, O’Hara-“

Lyla popped out and rolled her eyes. “Just kiss at this point. It shouldn’t be hard considering you two did other things. Or might I say, each ot-“

Miguel pulled back and rolled his eyes. “That’s enough, Lyla.”

Lyla looked at you. “It wasn’t hard to also find you since your watch had a different signal than the others and-“

“LYLA!”

She scoffed. “Geez okay!”

He looked back at you with sorrow written on his face. He finally held out his hand in front of you and smiled.

“Are you willing to give us a shot?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

y’all choose your ending xo 😘

idk what I j wrote here but woo hoo! gone is finally complete!

pls pls pls send in writing requests in my profileeee!!! thank you <3

tags ❤️‍🔥 -

@viriexo @voldemort-is-bi @catr4dora @ushygushybaby @leftcupcakedefendor

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Hi everyone,

It’s been a while since I’ve posted something from an article. So I wanted to share an article I found listing some ways to practice self-care. According to this article, here are some ways that could help:

Binge watch your favorite TV shows.

This is the first thing I do when I start running out of gas. It’s comforting, I identify with the characters, I know what’s going to happen in the show, and that relaxes me. It’s easy to do, like putting on a Band-Aid.

Spend a day in doing self-care activities.

I got a massage, took long baths, journaled and ate my favorite meals (a lot of Chick-fil-A and ga roti from Vietnam). I tried to spend time outside, but the mosquitoes were bad, so I ensconced myself in my sunroom which has several windows and is very colorful. It’s my happy place.

Meditate or do deep breathing.

I won’t lie, it’s difficult for me to meditate without a guiding app on my phone, and even then, I have trouble. But meditation is so good for you; it helps you be mindful, manage stress, reduce negative emotion and decreases anxiety. As for deep breathing, I always like to do box breathing, where you inhale for four seconds, hold for four seconds, exhale for four seconds, hold for four seconds and repeat. I read that Navy SEALs use this technique.

Go to a therapist or counselor.

I know that I talked my husband’s and my mom’s ears off about the fundraiser, and I could tell they were getting weary of being a sounding board. So I took my issues to my therapist, which is what I’m supposed to do, and it felt so good to release all that negative energy. She let me vent but helped me refocus on the good I was doing, too. I highly recommend therapy/counseling. If you don’t have a therapist, look into Family Counseling Service. It has wonderful therapists and a variety of programs.

Say no.

This is probably the most helpful self-care action you can take. Also the hardest to do. When I was working on the fundraiser, I didn’t say no at first. My type A personality (really, I’m type B) took over, and I wanted to be involved in everything. Soon I became burned out. After more therapy and self-care, I realized that I had to step back and say no. As soon as I did that, I felt way better. I was still involved in every aspect of the fundraiser, which probably annoyed the committee, but I delegated, communicated better and said no when I needed to.

The link to this article will be below if anyone wants to read through it.

[araaaa-bella]

Evan Peters x Fem!Reader

Warnings: sad, sensitive topics, self-harm, depression, death of a close family member, anxiety attacks, suicide.

Evan's age: 20 years old.

Bella's age (y/n): 19 years old.

There you were again, hugging your knees in the corner of your room with tears running down your eyes and holding some pretty sharp scissors. Supposedly, according to her therapist, her panic attacks and anxiety would go away if she took her pills, but it only seemed to make them worse. Those little pills made you feel like you were in control, and by not taking them you lost control and didn't know what to do, which always ended with blood on your arms and a girl with very swollen red eyes. You were weak, as this time the cuts were deep and you were losing blood, but you still had the strength to pick up the phone and make a call, you had to call your boyfriend as he knew how to calm you down.

“Evan please answer” you said to yourself with the phone in your hand and blood running down your wrists. “Come on, answer it “ you said and started crying again. A tired voice answered the call.

“Sweetie? What's going on? It's 2:30 am” he said making some small complaints -It seems that I woke him up-.

“Mhhh, I... I'm sorry I shouldn't have called you right now” you said and were ready to end the conversation there, but he spoke again.

“Come on, tell me what happened, It's not normal for you to call me at this time of the morning, are you okay?”

“I don't know what to do” you blurted out and started crying. “I know you always tell me to be strong but I can't stand it, I don't want to be here, you are my only reason to live and I feel like I can't bear all this weight anymore” you said crying harder and harder.

“...” There was a silence.

“Evan?" Are you on the call?”

“Don't tell me you did it again” he said coldly, you didn't answer anything. “I'll go to your house” he said and ended the call.

Less than 10 minutes passed and there was a knock on the door.

“Bella! Open the door please!” Evan wasn't lying when he said he was coming. “Bella, please open me up, I'm worried about you!” You tripped down the stairs, you were bleeding to death. You were very unstable mentally and physically and you wouldn't have more than 10 minutes if you weren't rushed to the hospital. You went downstairs and opened the door for your boyfriend.

“…” He stared at you. “Bella, my God” he said, looking at your arms. “Please, not again” he said and grabbed your arm to lead you to your room.

He went up angry, it wasn't the first time you called him and told him that. He got mad every time he saw those stupid bloody scissors and your bruised wrists, he knew all the problems you had and he helped you through them, but you didn't help much. Going upstairs, he pulled out some bandages and began wrapping them around your forearms.

“Linda... why are you doing this?” He said in a depressed way, he hated having to go to your house to heal you. Shedding a couple of tears, she grabbed her phone and called an ambulance, she had lost too much blood.

“I don't know… I feel like I'm getting worse and worse, I can't get over my mother, my father hates me and I don't have friends, you're the only thing I have left” you said letting some tears fall.

Your mother committed suicide when you were 5 years old because your father was unfaithful to her and she couldn't bear that pain. After what happened with your mother, your father became a fucking alcoholic, drug addict and abuser, he could never touch you but he hit you a lot. Every time he came home from "work" he beat you to death then drank 6 cans of beer and passed out you had to take responsibility for a long time but then you stopped caring and stopped caring about him to worry about the. its. Your mental health got worse and you stopped eating, Evan helped you with everything, he made you eat again and you worried about your health, but you always fell down.

“Honey, just promise me something... don't leave me, I don't know what I would do without you” Evan said making your eyes sparkle.

“I don't know if I'll last a little longer” you said sleepily, your vision blurring -oh no, not this-.

“Bella, hey, don't fall asleep” Evan said, shaking your shoulders. “Hey! Don't fall asleep please! The ambulance will arrive!” he yelled but it was useless, you were no longer with him. “Bella please answer me! I need you with me!” Evan hugged you and cried, he cried a lot, the love of his life had abandoned him.

He was clear about what was going through your mind, but he never thought about what would happen if you were no longer with him. He took you in his arms when he heard noise outside, the ambulances had arrived. Still hoping you might survive, he took you to the first floor as best he could and opened the door, letting the paramedics put you on a stretcher and try to revive you, but all that effort was useless, you had already bled to death.

“Sorry boy, there's nothing we can do, she lost too much blood” the paramedic told Evan.

“No… please, try something else, I know something else could work” replied the totally devastated boy.

“Sorry, there's nothing we can do” he said again, causing Evan to fall to his knees on the floor as he cried.

“Why! Why Bella? Why did you have to leave me?!” Evan told himself as he cried harder and harder.

He felt empty, as if finally he was absolutely nothing. The person he loved so much showed that he didn't care how he would feel without the other's presence.

[byrdtrollsunoreversearchive]

Errands

“So this is- another vegetable?” She asks, fingernail tracing down the grocery list.

“It's- well, technically it's a fruit. But it’ll be near produce.” Mondes answers. 

“Right- and this too?” She asks. 

“No, it's a dried spice.” He says. “Look. It’s an intergalactic market. It’s not rocket science. Just look for the stuff with these names in front. It’ll be labeled.” The oliveblood’s eyes trail down the list at gray smudges where Bee touched the paper. He stares. 

“Did you… not seal your paint?” He says. 

“Do what?” She pauses. 

Mondes once again sighs, heading to the bathroom, digging through the cabinet.

“You have to seal that shit- or it’ll get everywhere- and people will either think you wear way too much foundation- or they’ll know you’re trying to hide something.”

The violetblood wrings her hands, but takes the bottle of fixer he’s handed her. 

“You really think trolls would notice a thing like that?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be paranoid?” He answers, crossing his arms. 

“I’m actually supposed to be trying hard not to do that. According to my therapist” She says, applying the fixer to the layer of foundation they had used to cover her many violet freckles. Suddenly, she pauses. 

“This is a bad idea,” She says. 

“You know, I still helped with groceries and chores, when I was a fugitive.” Mondes answers. 

“I don’t know if I can do it as well as you can” She pleads. 

“I don’t know how much more tired I can get of you weaponizing your incompetence. It’s just groceries. You’ve already gone out with Hanagi- and without paint, even.” 

“Yeah, but I wasn’t like, alone for that” She says, pacing back and forth in the kitchen. “I don't know what half of these things are! What if I’ve forgotten some other stupid thing like the paint sealer!” Mondes sighs, glancing at the clock and back at the front door. The man walks off, muttering something she can only assume to be curses under his breath. 

She stands in the kitchen, glancing down at her hands. The more she thinks about it, this can’t be her natural gray skin tone. It’s way too obvious. Or is she imagining it? She turns her hands over. 

Mondes returns, setting two reusable grocery bags on the table. 

“Fine” he says “I will go with you. Once.” He says. “Then you do it alone.”

“You don’t have to do that,” She answers. 

“Apparently, I do,” He retorts. Walking out of the hive towards the spaceship. 

She swallows, standing a moment before following him out into the moonlight. 

.

.

.

.

.

The market is sparse this early. Mondes navigates it with ease. This grocery store was the closest to his hive- he’s been there dozens of times with how often he cooks. 

“I see,” Bee says, picking up one of the list’s items, recognizing the sign. “It’s a fruit.” 

“Yeah” Mondes explains. “There’s like- red melony flesh in the arms” He says, pointing to the alien produce. 

“Is it good?” She asks. 

“Not raw. I’m using it for pies” He retorts, his eyes trailing over to where one of the cashiers is eyeing the two of them. Bee follows his gaze, and sets down the fruit. 

“Should we get out of here?” She mutters in a lower tone. 

“Cus the cashier looked at you? No, "he says. “I still need rice noodles. You’re gonna get a lot of stares going out in public hemoanon. It’s just what happens.” He mutters back, heading down another asle. Bee glances back at the purpleblood whos still watching them like a hawk, before scurrying after Mondes. 

“Could you stop being so suspicious?” He says, annoyed. 

“I was just walking. Do you think they recognized me?” She whispers frantically.

“Just stop looking at him,” Mondes mutters. 

“We should leave,” She pleads. 

Mondes inhales, grabbing the last of his items. 

“Fine- let's go. Be normal” He says, walking towards the self checkout. Bee, to give her credit, is doing her best not to look at the cashier, but in a way that's somehow even more suspicious, twisting her head to strange angles to keep him out of her line of vision. 

Mondes is counting to ten in his head, scanning his items at a practiced pace, praying this wouldn’t all go to shit somehow. The machine coughs up their receipt, and he grabs it, the two of them heading towards the door. 

The cashier blocks their path. 

“Excuse me ma'am” he says, staring down at Bee. “Could you empty your pockets?”

“What?” She says, staring at the floor. “Why?” 

“So I can see you didn’t take anything from the produce section.” He says. “Saw you pick up those fruits” 

“Yeah- Mondes is buying some, it’s right there in his bag” She squeaks. 

“I said pockets,” The cashier insists. Mondes gently nudges Bee with his elbow. Bee seems to take the entirely wrong message from this, and straightens her back. 

“You know,” She says. “We did nothing wrong! We picked up a fruit and bought it from your store.” She insists. “Mondes paid for it! You saw us at the self checkout!” 

“Bee” Mondes says frantically, trying to nip this in the bud. 

“Did I see that?” the cashier retorts. “I don’t know what I saw,” he says. “Let me see those bags.” 

Mondes, ever the rationalist, hands over the grocery bags. 

“We don’t want any trouble,” He says. “I’m sorry about her- but if you look at the receipt, I’m sure you’ll find everythings in order.” He says. 

The cashier pulls the receipt from the bag, scanning it as if searching for something wrong. Then he takes out several fruits. He weighs the fruit in his hand, and then says. 

“I don’t think you weighed all of these. Wrong price for this weight.” He accuses. 

“That is ludicrous” Bee hisses, and Mondes elbows her again. 

“Sorry” he says. “Honest mistake. We can go over and reweigh them right now. I’ll pay twice.” He says. “I’m a regular- I come here all of the time. We don't want any trouble”

“That’s- illegal! We already paid for that fruit! Your machine weighed it! Roll back your security tapes” She says, pointing at the shop camera. 

“Shut up Bee” Mondes retorts through gritted teeth. 

“Get out of my shop” The cashier says. “Before I call the cops.” 

“Fine” Mondes says, turning to leave.

“We paid for that! The receipts are right there!” Bee insists, yanking the bags out of the cashier's hands. “You just lost two valuable customers” She hisses as she storms off. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Mondes snaps once they’re out of the store doors. 

“I got us our food” She says slowly. 

“I wanted to be able to come back to that market” He insists. “Now I’m gonna have to drive across town! Why could you keep your fucking mouth shut!” 

Bee opens her mouth to retort, but instead stares past Mondes’s shoulder. He picks up what's happening just in time, and ducks before the purpleblood, who apparently followed them out of the store, takes a swing at him with a crowbar. Bee dives in between the two of them, pulling a switchblade from her pocket. 

“You’re not gonna rob my fucking store” The cashier insists. “And get away with it.” 

“We PAID!” She snaps, “Don’t make me attack you!” 

“Oh what, a tiny little girl with a knife? I’m soooo scared. You want me to find out exactly what kind of mutant you are? When i smash your brains into the-” 

And there was probably more to his tough guy monologue, but Bee has already sprung into action, grabbing his outstretched arm and yanking it forward, slamming him into the alleyway and disarming him in one move, she bends back his arm and presses the knife to his throat. 

“We didn’t rob your fucking store” She insists, one last time. “And you saw nothing here, capiche? Unless you want me to slit your throat” She says. 

“Fucking bitch” He coughs. “You and your little friend are banned for life, you hear?” 

“Don’t tempt me” She says, pressing the knife forward. 

“Bee,” Mondes says. “Let him go. More trouble than he’s worth.” He says. 

Bee stares at the man like she’s about to argue, but then loosens her hold, and the purpleblood falls to the ground, sputters, and then runs off. 

“What part?” Mondes hisses. “Of low profile, do you not fucking understand?” 

“I- what was I supposed to do! Let him charge you twice!” She snaps. 

“Yes,” he says. “I have the money.” 

“He attacked us for no reason!” She snaps. “He was bending over backwards to justify robbing us of food we bought! We didn’t do anything wrong!” 

Mondes stares for a long moment, and then his head falls into his hands. She thinks for a second he’s crying, but no, the oliveblood is laughing maniacally. 

“What’s so funny?” She says, slowly. 

He exhales. “Do you hear yourself?” He says. “Do you think about words before they come out of your mouth? Oh my fucking g-d, poor Bee, he made an assumption about you based on your blood color and then doubled down for no fucking reason? That must suck so much for you. I’m playing you nievole blanche on the world's tiniest cello. Can’t imagine what that feels like!” He throws up his arms. “Welcome to the glorious life of a lowblood! Not so fun on the other end, is it? Huh? Give me a fucking break.” 

“I didn’t know it was this bad” She mutters quietly. 

“You didn’t know it was this bad?! You didn’t know it was this bad?!!” He snaps. “You have more than one limeblood sibling!! How far was your head up your ass your entire grubhood! Thank Dia and Calsya for the slap I’m about to give you, for fucks sake!” He rants, raising his hand, jokingly. But pauses when Bee stiffens, flinching, a sudden look of horror crossing the violetblood’s face that twists into his heart like a knife. He stares, slowly, for a long moment, and then lowers his hand. 

“I’m- Kidding” He says, but his voice doesn’t do a perfect job of hiding his frustration. You can almost hear him counting to ten in his mind. “Sorry” the oliveblood spits out like a curseword. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just- you tried to have me executed for less. It’s more than a little ironic.” 

“I’m sorry” She says, “I should have known better. I didn’t mean to get you kicked out of that shop. I’m just, not used to this is all. I panicked.” She sighs. The violetblood stands still for a moment, and then leans down on her knees to start picking up the spilled groceries. He is almost content with that end to this conversation, but she keeps going, she ruins it, because of course she does. 

“You would have been right to slap me,” She says. “I wouldn’t stop you.” 

“No.” he says. “Not how this works. I know you’re an idiot. I know that you-” He pauses, the sentence dying on its feet. 

“You know what?” She says, slowly. 

“Nothing,” He says. “Forget it” 

“What do you know?” She repeats, going oddly still as she packs the groceries. 

“You wanna talk candidly about it?” he says. 

She does not answer for a while. “About what?” She says. 

He sighs. “I know you got abused.” He says. Bee’s movements grind nearly to a halt. 

“You know- the whole, your dad showing up at our hive, suddenly that fleet ladies dead- it’s not hard too- Everyone knows, I mean, even without that, you stumble through life like a scared rabbit hanging by a thread and it makes it so hard to be mad at you when I have every right to be. I just.” he exhales. 

“I knew that. So I shouldn’t have raised a hand at you. Knowing that. So I’m sorry for that specifically. I was right about everything else.” 

She places a box in the grocery bag. 

“I wish you’d hit me” She says, blinking. “At least that would make sense to me.” 

“You’ve gotta fucking- quit with that shit.” he says. “It really just makes me uncomfortable. I’m really not that kind of person.” He says. 

“I’m sorry” She repeats. 

“I know,” He answers. 

“It wasn’t- abuse” She says. “What happened to me.” 

“Bee,” Mondes says. “Who are we kidding here? Anymore? Exactly? Fine. My family has a lot of reasons to hate you. The whole Nandor thing? The whole getting beat up or fucked up mentally somehow by that teacher bitch? That’s not one of them. That’s one of the few things, me and Nesseo and everyone, are on your side about. So why mince words. Why keep defending that dead woman.” 

“I…” She says. “She was nice to me. Sometimes. A lot of the time. It wasn’t all… I’m not gonna make that my excuse. For what I became.” 

“Of course she was nice to you,” Mondes says slowly. “That’s how it fucking works- ask your therapist about, the cycle, or whatever- that’s how they get you. They’ll be awful and then nice and that’s why people stay even when they really shouldn’t.” 

She does not answer, staring at the fruit in her hand with dead eyes, unmoving. 

“I thought you loved excuses,” He says. “You’re really not gonna take this one?” 

“No,” She replies. 

He stares at her for a long time. Trying to sort out the complex emotions tumbling through his mind into words. Failing. Eventually, he decides to say nothing at all, walking over to help her pick up the groceries. 

“I have one more errand,” Bee says.

“Okay” he replies.

.

.

.

.

.

“You kept my aquarium stickers” Bee says, tracing them on the back of the spaceships pilot seat. 

“My quarrel is with you” Mondes says as he flies. “Not with the beluga whale.”

She almost smiles, staring at the open sky in front of them. 

“Besides” he continues. “Das loves them.” 

The two of them are silent for a moment. 

“Are you sure this is the right address?” Mondes says, floating along the shoreline. 

“Yes- the GPS says it’s right ahead” Bee replies, tapping her hand on the arm rest. 

“In the ocean?” He says. 

“Yes, it’s, half underwater, it’s the whole gimmick” She says. 

“It’s half underwater” Mondes repeats. “And they serve food?” He says. 

“I never claimed the man who runs it was intelligent,” She says. 

“Duly noted” He responds. “Oh- that looks like it” He says, pausing over a bridge that leads out to an illuminated pirate ship, that appears to have some sort of hive beneath it, under the water. He parks, the two of them lock the ship and climb down. And they just walk in. 

They are greeted by a server, who begins the most monotone of customer service monologues like the world's least enthusiastic actor, not even looking up from the register.

“Yo ho ho. Welcome to Buckles and Buckaneers. I regret to inform you that the lower deck is closed due to an octopuses infestation” 

“Octopi” Bee says, instinctively. 

“Octopi” Katash retorts, still not looking up at the two of them as she grabs menus. “In other, better news, calamari is half off! Only three caegers! We’re practically giving it away. Table for how many…” The seadweller trails of, having finally made eye contact with Bee. The woman simply freezes, mouth half open, for what seems like an age. Recognizing her instantly.

“Is the manager in?” Bee says softly. 

“Y-yes” Katash stutters. 

“Table for three,” She says. “If he’ll have me” 

[lunarsilver]

What awaits you in February?

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Tarot readings will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them and that’s okay too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason of making it.

1 ~ 2 ~ 3

PILE 1

Three of Pentacles – Eight of Cups (R) – The Devil (R) – Back of the Deck: Four of Wands

We have here cards from all suits except Swords, this can mean you will be daydreaming or your mind/logic will be used less often? Swords are Air, mind, power, the lack of them here can signalize you should remember about thinking through things, ask both heart and mind what do you want.

This Four of Wands at the back of the deck shows the whole February should be pretty peaceful for you. This card is all about celebration, congratulations on whatever you’ve achieved/you’re about to achieve! Probably going back home, or maybe finding your new home? Are you looking for the ideal flat/house, or you’re renovating it?

 Four of Wands are correlated to other people, especially your family, and Three of Pentacles also talks about people. At the beginning of this February, you’re probably still working on what you’ll celebrate later. Some group project? Renovating your flat with your partner/friends? It looks like something won’t come according to the plan, you will have to alter it, find a different way, and… yeah, The Devil in reverse after reversed Eight of Cups, it looks like you will have to leave something behind, most likely your limiting beliefs or fear. Don’t run away from it, face it, and remember about Four of Wands – there will be something worth celebrating, some milestone.

PILE 2

Six of Cups – Three of Cups – Eight of Wands (R) – Back of The Deck: Nine of Cups

First things first: wow, that’s a lot of Cups, this month is all about feelings, guys. I get a feeling (heh) it’s more about friendship than love, at least for most. Relationships, connections, water. Any of you going somewhere near water this month? A town next to sea, camping by a lake, ice skating? And look at how all the Cups cards are divisible by three, yet again: bonding, groups, and also creativity and confidence. Hell, at first I even described this pile as the third one instead of the second one!

Nine of Cups shows me you will feel so fulfilled this month, this is the “wish come true” card. Cherish these moments as long as they last. Six of Cups is about happy memories, especially from childhood. Maybe you’ll feel like a happy, Innocent child again, or for some reason remember these moments. Watching cartoons, drawing, just doing things because they are fun. Maybe you’ll meet a childhood friend? You can spend more time with children. Six of Cups can sometimes mean pregnancy, especially with twins, so if there are here any people who try for a baby, maybe it says something.

Three of Cups gives me a vibe of a girls’ night out, of course for some of you. February is a time when you will spend a lot of time with friends, with Six of Cups from before these can be childhood friends, or you can do some silly, childish things and feel like kids again. A sleepover? Maybe a party? Remember how Nine of Cups is about fulfillment? Well, Three of Cups can often mean celebration!

Nine of Cups represent happy moments that are temporary – Eight of Wands in reverse signalize there can be some delays or frustration at the end of the month. Align your resources, plan your actions, but also don’t resist changes.

PILE 3

The World (R) – Three of Pentacles (R) – Four of Wands – Back of the Deck: Seven of Swords (R)

Wow, that’s a lot of reversed cards, do you feel stuck? Not sure what you do and where you’re going? More negative thoughts than usual (the domination of Swords would also suggest that)? If so, I’m sending you a virtual hug!

So, I guess some of you started a new job, got promoted, your grades improved or for some reason became the center of attention. I’m saying that because Seven of Swords in reverse can mean imposter syndrome. Alternatively, this can mean that during February you will keep deceiving yourself (i.e. trying to convince yourself that you’re satisfied while you’re not) or keep an ugly secret from someone. Remember, lie has short legs.

You will seek some kind of closure – personal (given the fact it’s February, Valentine’s Day and so on, maybe not getting fully over your ex will be hard to ignore) or it’s about some project, especially with Three of Pentacles in reverse. Some problems in your team? Disharmony of some sort? Some of you will be fed up and just finish it by yourself. Some of you can realize how many qualities you are and that they’re underappreciated, you may start to value yourself more.

Oof, looks like quite an exhausting month, doesn’t it? Fortunately, Four of Swords show you’ll get some well deserved rest. Proper sleep, meditation, listening to music – whatever makes you relaxed. You’ll handle the problem, and there will be time to take some time for yourself.  

[whossiren]

75 Soft Challenge Week 2-

Mediterranean Diet:

This week I worked on two things ordering Mediterranean style food while eating out and trying to be flexible with my idea of this diet. The idea is to embrace a more plants based diet being primarily pescatarian.

I do want to cut down the amount I eat out but that's a whole separate battle that I hope meal prepping will help with.

Just the foods I ate when dining out were a kale and pinto beans taco, turkey avocado savory crepe, and a cucumber salad.

2 Liters of Water:

I found this easily doable on the days where I exercised not so much on the days where I did not.

It is much easier on my body and I have noticed improvement in my skin. My acne has reduced and my elasticity has improved.

No Alcohol:

Again something I found very easy until my roommate made milkshakes that I didn't realize had bourbon in them until 3/4ths of the was through the glass.

Very good but I'll stick to a normal milkshake from now on.

45 Minutes of Exercise:

I am still a long ways away from being able to do exercises I see on YouTube unless they are slow controlled and a moderate intensity.

I realized I have very tight hamstrings after not being able to do some beginners stretches and warm ups.

After visiting a doctor and a physical therapist I've added some important exercises to my daily routine to be able to have full range of motion again.

10 Pages of Any Book:

I'm currently reading " To the Lighthouse" by Virginia Woolf.

My least completed row this week due to sheer lack of motivation and discipline.

I don't enjoy the writing style of this author even though she came highly recommended by friends and coworkers. I normally don't feel engaged enough to read 10 pages.

I obviously haven't finished the book and hope I come to appreciate the writing style as I continue reading but the initial impression doesn't color me impressed

Summary:

This week was a great attempt and I'm proud of the progress I made even though I know I could do a lot better with improved discipline.

I went from an average of 109lbs to 107lbs. According to my counts I'm at a calorie deficit so I'm a little shocked by this little difference in weight. However it's still great to be losing weight rather than gaining.

I'm late to update because Monday was a complete rest day after I wasn't able to do my full workout session for two days in a row. (when am I not behind though?) I'm thinking of making two days a week active rest days where I do a 45 minutes walk as to not experience burnout.

I hope to have better portion control and cook at home more next week as well.

At a 66% completion rate this week I know I can do better I hope to keep improving.

[itsaspectrumcomic]

this is kind of a vent and a bit of a silly rambled story (ooo story time! but feel free to ignore it if you want it wont bother me)

so i have been researching autism and adhd for roughly a year and a half now and its kinda become a special interest of mine (wild i know lmao) and its actually how i got my adhd diangosis! funnily enough the therapist who diagnosed me for adhd and evaluated me for asd was biased and had no knowledge about adhd or autism... :-] pained smile

(im afab and my sibling is amab and the comparisons between our assesments is insane. they got assesed easily but for me, the therapist was reluctant and judgemental. a great start i know /sarc)

anyway the therapist told me that i couldnt be autistic because even though i scored high, the test my PARENTS filled out for my childhood was very low. i wasnt even asked about my childhood experiences when it came back with a low score. i was just brushed off and told that it was only my adhd and that if i WAS autistic (which im not, according to her) that i would be "high functioning" and that "high functioning" people arent actually autistic. not word for word because i was half listening in shock but the general idea is still there. i have no clue how i even went to this woman tbh.

i have since made a list and included evidence for all the traits ive had since infancy but my parents 100% took the therapists word and are now completely convinced that there is zero chance that i can be on the autism spectrum. fun fact i think theyre both on the spectrum as well and ive talked to my sibling about it too. its wild lol

the thing is i keep going back and forth between denial and acceptance thinking i may be on the spectrum and ive had plenty of friends both professionally and self diagnosed tell me that i am on the spectrum but i cant help but accidentally find ways to invalidate myself and my experiences. i dont know if its worth it to get a professional diagnosis or to just exist as self diagnosed because they both have strong pros and cons. its all very confusing but i can wait 2 years until im a legal adult so i can at least try to get an assesment from a therapist who actually understands autism

i apologize for being so long winded and for any gramatical/spelling errors but i just wanted to thank you for making this blog in general. it feels very validating despite what other people and my negative thoughts try to say about my brain :-] i hope youre doing well !!

'"high functioning" people arent actually autistic'

UGH I hate that so much. I'm not really a fan of the the terms 'high functioning' and 'low functioning' anyway because it doesn't cover how autistic people can be really good at some things and struggle a lot with other things (also known as having a 'spiky profile') and just 'high' or 'low' doesn't properly take that into account, and then there's the whole questionable use of 'functioning' but that's a whole other discussion....

I'm sorry your parents aren't listening. Since autism can be genetic, it's fairly likely they are also on the spectrum and never noticed the traits when you were growing up because it all seemed normal to them.

It's a very personal decision whether or not to try for an official diagnosis, but whatever you decide is valid! The important thing is gaining self-acceptance and learning what works for you. Good luck and I'm so glad you're enjoying this blog :)

[maternity-morningstar]

Dear Journal 3/15

According to Bel, I’m 23 weeks pregnant. Hooray!

Angel is 18 weeks pregnant.

Alastor is 9 weeks pregnant.

Husk is 7 weeks pregnant.

I’m trying to keep track of this sorta thing because, well, for one I’m the father to two of the three pregnancies that aren’t mine own. And for another, I have nothing else to do! I’m still stuck on bed rest. I do have a wheelchair that helps me get around the Hotel. So does Husk, but he’s more embarrassed about being in it than I was.

Speaking of Husk, he’s doing physical therapy to help him re-learn how to walk. Bel has one of her physical therapists come in every day to help him. He walks using bars and is trying to get proper movement back in his legs. When that bastard Valentino cut off his wings, he did a lot of spinal damage that we realized. Not to mention Husk’s pregnancy on top of this. He says he wants to keep the baby, but I see him hurting and all I want to do is take away his pain.

And speaking of pain — Angel has been annoyingly “helpful.” I guess he’s feeling better or worse about everything. He tries to be everyone’s maid or something but I think it’s a tad clingy. I feel bad. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. Sure he can be lazy but I guess he feels too bad to let himself relax for a moment. He’s especially trying to be Husk’s personal servant. Husk doesn’t want to give him the time of day anymore. They talked but I think Husk just wants space.

Oh, and Alastor has been dealing with a bad case of morning sickness. I’m told he’s barely eating which isn’t good. He can’t be fasting while he’s pregnant! However he’s been managing the hotel with Charlie and from what I’ve heard, been ignoring his problems. Seems like everyone has that bad trait. We need some self-care, but do we deserve it? I know I don’t but I know they do. I want to do something special for them, but what can I do from bed?

[circular-bircular]

Y'all put too much weight in science.

"Anti-endos don't believe in science!" "Pro-endos don't believe in science!"

Does it matter?

Got into a huge discussion today that was incredibly triggering for me surrounding the scientific merit of EMDR. It terrified me and made me incredibly paranoid that my therapist was lying to me, because I plan to start EMDR this summer. "What if it is all bogus and marketing magic?"

And then (after a good cry and snug with my partner) we came to the age old conclusion: Does it matter if it helps you?

"Science has said that the bilateral part of EMDR is just bogus!" Okay. And? If I find success from it, and I feel it helps me, then does it matter if it is scientific or not?

It's okay for things to not align to "the current science." For one thing, the current science can be wrong, just flat out. We are constantly learning more and more each day. But far, far more importantly... I don't exist to be scientific. I don't exist to follow the science. I exist to be happy and recover and do my best.

Even if something doesn't follow the science fully, it can still be beneficial. Hell, I like crystals for crying out loud, even though I know that's a whole lot of new age bullshit according to "science." If they make me happy and if I see benefits, then isn't that the actual important part?

Just... take a step back from the science sometimes, okay? Recognize that if it benefits people -- even if science dictates that it shouldn't -- then maybe that person doesn't need you to go on a rant about how it isn't scientific and how they're making an "unethical choice".