#hoping at the doctor's appointment i scheduled that i can finally start getting a diagnosis for fibro

[orcelito]

I think I need to find a rage room or smth. Ykno those types of things that gives u a space to just absolutely go fucking ham? Breaking shit and letting out the anger? I'm constantly stifling anger bc I don't want to cause problems with it, but ever since my dad died, I've really wanted to just kick the shit out of something.

Just once. Just one time would fix me, I think. I really need to be able to break things.

[johnsbleu]

Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 96

warnings: none! hold my hand masterlist

The air is getting cooler with every passing day, and you’re not sure if you love or hate it. New York is just so damn cold! It’s the day before Thanksgiving, and you’re so excited to have some good food. John is very excited to have his first big holiday with you as husband and wife, but you think it’s mostly because he’s been researching the best ways to cook a turkey and he just wants to show off. Tess, Jimmy, and Finn will be joining you as well, so of course John has to show off his cooking skills.

John took your car to the grocery store this afternoon, so you had to drive his car to your doctor’s appointment. Part of you is surprised John didn’t realize where you were going, but he’s been so consumed in his turkey research that he probably didn’t hear you mention that you were going in today.

“So, how long has it been?”

You look up at Doctor Reed and shake your head, “It’s only really been about…four months, I think. I stopped taking my birth control in June, but like you said, the hormones weren’t truly out of my system for a few months. I’m think I’m back to ovulating at a normal rhythm.”

Doctor Reed has been your doctor since you moved to New York almost two years ago, and she’s been so good. She’s almost like a mom in a way. She’s probably around the same age as your mom, and she always knows exactly what to say to make you feel comfortable.

She nods as she opens your medical chart, “Honey, I know how hard it is to just wait, but I think you need to just wait it out. I think that’s the best option right now. You mentioned infertility, but we don’t really diagnosis that unless you’ve been having unprotected sex for a year with no success.”

“We had a scare last month, oh, and one in the summer. Actually, no, both times it was just me being stupid. I shouldn’t call it a ‘scare’ either. We want to get pregnant.” you sigh as you look down, growing embarrassed, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have even scheduled this appointment. I feel so stupid.”

“Don’t feel stupid.” she says as you look up at her, “Trust me, I understand where you’re coming from. You will get pregnant. If you want, you can always get one of those apps that help track your period and ovulation. I’ve had a few patients mention that they use it and it helped them.”

“An app?” you ask, furrowing your brow, “Really?”

Doctor Reed puts her hands up and laughs, “Hey, you’d be surprised.”

Taking a deep breath, you look down at your hands in your lap, then you sigh as you look back your doctor, “I guess we could try that.”

“Don’t get too down. I think it’ll happen soon, I just think right now you’re so eager to get pregnant that you might be jumping the gun and not waiting until you’re ovulating. You’ve always been good about writing down your cycle and everything since you’ve gone off the birth control, so go home, get out your journal, get that app, and put everything in it and track your ovulation.”

You laugh quietly, “You’re really pushing this app.”

“I think it could really help you.” she says, giving you a genuine smile.

You nod as you look at her, then you reach out to shake her hand, “Thank you, Doctor Reed.”

“Don’t thank me, dear. It’s my job.” she laughs as she stands up and walks to the door, “Tell that handsome husband of yours that I said hello, and that I hope he’s doing well. I’m surprised to not see him here with you today.”

Grimacing, you stand up and sling your purse over your shoulder, “Well, I told him that I was coming last night, but I don’t think he heard me. I took no offense, of course. He’s getting very into his Thanksgiving dinner.”

Doctor Reed closes her eyes as she holds the door open for you, “Oh, I can’t wait for the stuffing and mashed potatoes. Our whole house has smelled so good for two days now, my husband is very excited as well.”

“Thank you again, Doctor Reed.” you smile, giving her a wave as you head for the front door of the office. Just as you reach for the handle, you hear your doctor calling out to you, and you turn around to see her walking over with a piece of paper in her hand.

“I forgot to give you this. You asked me to recommend an OB for when you’re pregnant. Doctor Mendez is great, I think you’ll like her.”

You look down at the card and smile, “Thank you. I’ll definitely give her a call when the time comes.”

Doctor Reed laughs as she walks away, “It’ll happen.”

Heading out to the car, you pull your jacket around you a little more to try and keep the cold air ou, then you unlock the car quickly and shiver as you put the key in the ignition. The engine sputters a few times, and you furrow your brow more when you take the key out and give it one more try.

“Oh, no…” you whisper to yourself, “Uh, what do I do?”

Giving it one more try, you watch as black smoke starts to come from the hood of the car, and you nearly faint as you get out to make sure it isn’t on fire. Thankfully it isn’t.

“Oh, shit…” you cover your mouth and gasp, “Well, at least it’s not on fire.”

You get back in the car to shield yourself from the harsh wind, and you pull your phone out of your purse to call John, silently praying he won’t be too upset.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” you say quietly, “Um, what are you doing?”

John laughs, “What’s going on? You sound guilty of something.”

You bite your cheek to keep yourself from crying hysterically, “Uh, your car won’t start.”

“Give it a few tries, sometimes that happens.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and lean your head back against the seat, regretting even getting out of bed this morning, “Yeah, I tried it like three times. Smoke…came out of the hood, so I don’t really want to try it again and blow up.”

“Oh,” John is quiet for a moment, then you finally hear him again, “Why don’t I come pick you up? Where are you?”

“Yeah,” you nod as you wipe away the tears on your cheek, “I’m in Oyster Bay. Uh, the address is 7500 Meadow drive.”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon.”

You hang up the phone with John and pull on your stocking cap as you sit back and pray John won’t be too mad. This car is his baby, and you’re hoping he won’t be mad at you for taking it in the first place.

__

It’s been about 15 minutes since you called John and he’s just now pulling into the parking lot next to you. He smiles at you as he gets out of the car, and you roll down the window to talk to him. He immediately leans into the car and presses a warm kiss to your lips, then he gestures for you to start the car. Taking a big breath, you sit up and turn the key over, listening to the car sputter.

John furrows his brow as he walks back to the driver’s side and opens the door, letting you out so he can get in. He gives it a little gas this time, but still no luck. Popping the hood, John gets out and touches your waist as he moves past, then he pulls his phone out and presses it to his ear.

“Yeah, hey, man. It’s not starting again.” John turns around to look at the building, then he furrows his brow as he looks over at you. “Yeah, 7500 Meadow Drive. It’s a doctor’s office in Oyster Bay. Thanks, man.”

You pick at your nails nervously as John shuts the hood of the car and walks over to grab your bag out. He hands it to you, then he locks his car and turns around to open your car door so you can get in and stop freezing.

“Aurelio is gonna have someone come out and tow it.” he says as he turns up the heat, “He said the truck should be here within ten minutes, so I figured I’d just wait until they get here to leave.”

You nod as you look down, avoiding John’s gaze, “Okay.”

John reaches out and places his hand on your thigh, and you close your eyes as the warmth soaks through your jeans, “What’s going on?”

“I broke your car.” you immediately spit out as you cry, “I’m so sorry, I understand if you’re mad at me. I don’t know how I even did it. I drove here just fine, then I got in when I was done with my appointment and it wouldn’t even start. Then there was smoke everywhere, and I…I can buy you a new car or something.”

John lets out a laugh as you look at him, “Hold on, there is a lot to unpack in what you’ve just said. Most importantly, can I get another kiss from my wife?”

You nod your head as you lean over and kiss John, and he holds your face to keep you from moving away too quickly. He presses his lips to yours several times, then he places a warm kiss on your forehead. He leans back to look into your eyes, but when he sees you still have tears in them, he leans in to kiss you again.

“Please stop crying, sweetheart.” he whispers against your lips.

You reach into the glove box for a few tissues, and you wipe away the tears in your eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” John pats your thigh and turns the vents towards you more when he feels your skin is still so cold. He smiles when you look at him, then he leans over to kiss you again, “What’s goin’ on?”

You exhale as you try to get your heartbeat under control, “Okay, so, I took your car since you had mine, which is totally fine obviously. We always swap cars. Anyway, I started it up just fine at home, then when I got out of my appointment, I tried it and it just…shit out. There was smoke everywhere and I just immediately called you.”

The corners of John’s mouth turn up a bit as he smiles, “You really think I give a damn about my car?”

You look up at John and scrunch your eyebrows, “What?”

“What’s going on with you? Why are you here?” he says, pointing at the doctor’s office, “I don’t give a shit about that car. I’m wondering why you’re here alone.”

“I…told you last night that I had an appointment this afternoon, but I don’t think you heard me. You were in the office on the computer.” you shrug as John grows sad, “I guess you didn’t hear me.”

John takes your hands in his and presses a kiss to the palm of your hand, “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, John. I just came in for something. You didn’t really need to be here for it.” you say, reaching over to tuck John’s hair behind his ear, “Trust me, it was a quick little appointment. I didn’t even have to take my clothes off. Wait, that came out wrong. I mean, it wasn’t a check up or anything, I just needed to talk to my doctor about something.”

John laughs at your poor choice of words, then he looks up at you, “Can I know, or…?”

“Oh,” you nod as you look around the car, “Well, I just wanted to see if maybe there was…something wrong with me.”

“Baby,” John sighs as he tries to move closer, “Stop worrying about it. We’ll get pregnant soon.”

“I know, I just…” you look down as you tear up again, and you cover your face with your right hand as you cry.

John wraps his right arm around your back and pulls you a little closer to him, “The tow truck is here, I’ll be back.”

As John gets out of the car and talks to Aurelio, you try your best to hide your face. You look into the mirror to make sure your makeup isn’t too fucked up, and you smile and wave at Aurelio when he waves.

You invited his family over for Thanksgiving dessert, and your curiosity takes over as you roll down the window, “Hi, are you still coming for dessert?”

“We are.” Aurelio says as he walks over to the window, “Which reminds me, Amanda has been wondering what she should bring. Every night before bed, she asks me what she should bring.”

“Oh,” you shrug as you look at John, who is smiling wide now that you’ve stopped crying, “Whatever she wants. If the kids have anything in particular that they like--”

Aurelio laughs, “Those kids eat anything.”

John walks over and laughs, “She should make that cheesecake she made for my birthday that one year.”

“Ooh, that is good. We’ll see you two tomorrow.” Aurelio says, shaking John’s hand before he gets back in the tow truck.

You look over at John as he gets in the car, “I didn’t know you liked cheesecake.”

“I like Amanda’s cheesecake.” he says, and you sink down in your seat a little when you remember you made a cheesecake a while back that John didn’t touch. “Time to head home?”

You lean against your door and pout, “Yup.”

__

Even though you and John just got married two months ago, you’re in the mood to take a little stroll down memory lane. You’re sitting on your bed with piles of pictures in front of you, and you perk up when you remember you bought a photo album just for wedding pictures.

Heading downstairs into the office, you smile at John when he looks up from the laptop in curiosity. You dig through the bag on the chair while John watches on, then you head back to the door.

“Hey,” John calls out, and you turn around to look at him, “What are you doing?”

You hold up the photo album, “Looking through wedding pictures.”

“Without me?”

Shrugging, you lean against the door frame, “You’re more than welcome to join me. I just figured you were deep diving into your turkey research again.”

John laughs as he gets up and walks over to you, “My turkey research. Well, lucky for you, I’m all done with it.”

John wraps his arms around your waist as you walk to the stairs, then he holds to your back pocket like a child. He smiles at you when you look over your shoulder, then he laughs as he tugs your pocket a little.

The pictures are all in piles on the bed, and they’re all divided into different stacks so it’s easier to put them in certain parts of the album.

“So, I divided all the pictures of you and I out. I figured the first pictures in the album should be us getting ready.” you say as you sit down on the bed. You hold up a picture of John from the morning of your wedding, and you smile as you look at it, “You looked so handsome that day.”

John jokingly gasps, “Oh, so I’m not handsome anymore?”

You reach over and squeeze John’s bicep, “You know I still think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

John holds your gaze for a moment longer, then he looks down at the pictures and grabs one of the two of you looking at each other, “Look at that. Look how in love we were.”

“Were?” you look at him and laugh, “As if I’m not fucking crazy about you still.”

“Are you though?”

You look at John again and hold his gaze for a moment, trying to figure out if he’s being serious. He’s too damn serious for his own good sometimes and it freaks you out.

“John?” you move closer to him and reach for his hand, “Are you serious?”

“You’re not mad at me, are you? I truly didn’t hear you last night, and you know that I would have wanted to be there for you.” he moves your hair away from your face and leans his forehead against yours, “I don’t care if all you’re doing is peeing in a cup, I want to be there for you.”

You cup John’s face as you kneel in front of him, “I’m not mad at you at all. Not one tiny ounce of anger in my body. I was in the office for maybe ten minutes.”

“What did she say?”

You sit back down and cross your legs as you face John, “She told me…to get this app on my phone that helps track my period and ovulation. She said a few of her patients use it and they said that it helped them.”

“Did you get it?”

You shake your head, “No, I was going to talk to you first. She also told me to stop stressing out about it and to just let it happen. She thinks I’m too eager to get pregnant and I’m not waiting until I’m actually ovulating.”

“So, tracking it will help?” he asks, and you nod your head. “Well, let’s get the apps and track it. No harm in it.”

You turn your focus back to the pictures on the bed, and you smile as you reach down for the picture of John and all of the kids that were at your wedding. Most of the kids are just standing around John since they don’t really know him, but Shiloh is clinging to John’s left leg. Benji is making a goofy face, and John has Harper in his arms along with a huge smile on his face.

“Look at you.” you laugh, showing John the picture, “You’re in your element. You and the kiddos.”

John takes the picture from you and laughs, “Look at Shiloh. She looked so cute in her dress.”

“Uh, are we forgetting Harper? Look at her, look at those chunky little legs.” you point at the picture and laugh, “She’s so cute. She looks like she could be your daughter. Did you and Amanda have a kid and I don’t know about it?”

John scoffs, “Yes, I had a kid with my best friend’s wife.”

“Well, you ate her cheesecake and not your wife’s, so…” you say under your breath as you lay down to look at the pictures.

“What was that?”

You look up at John and shrug, “I didn’t say anything.”

“No, I heard you. I was just giving you a chance to lie and make something up.” he says, moving the pictures to lay down on his stomach next to you, “You told me not to eat the cheesecake because you made it for Tony’s birthday.”

You look down at the bed and furrow your brow, then you bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing, “Oh, yeah.”

John wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer, “You really think I wouldn’t eat your cheesecake? Yes, I realize how sexual that sounds.”

You laugh as you look over at John, “You like to eat my cake?”

“Yes. Yes, very much so.” he laughs as he leans over to kiss you, “Baby, I would eat mud on a plate if you prepared it for me. I have a feeling this isn’t really about cheesecake though, is it?”

You inhale deeply as you look down at the picture in your hand: you and John kissing for the first time as husband and wife. Even though his lips are pressed to yours, you can see the smile on his face.

“You’re not mad about your car, are you? I genuinely would never purposefully wreck your car or anything. I just don’t want you to be mad at me.”

John shakes his head as he moves closer, “That car isn’t important to me like you are. If it breaks down, then it breaks down.”

“I know, but it’s your car from Helen. It’s your baby.”

“No, you’re my baby.” he says, and you jokingly roll your eyes, even though that was super soft. “Baby, I think you forget how much I’ve put that car through. I used it for work sometimes. It shits out on me sometimes too. Why do you think we take your car most of the time? To be honest, I’m expecting it to just completely shit out on me soon.”

You nod your head as you look back at the picture, “Okay, I just don’t want you to think I did it on purpose.”

“Not at all.” he shakes his head and leans over to kiss your cheek, “When you said it didn’t start, my very first thought was you. No lie. I knew you’d need me to come get you. What was the first thing I did when I got there?”

“Kissed me.” you say as John smiles.

“I kissed my wife.” he nods, leaning over to kiss your cheek again, “Baby, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it until you understand, you are way more important to me than a car. I can get another car, I can’t get another you. You’re a once in a lifetime thing.”

Exhaling softly, you look over at John and nod as you hold his gaze, “That was really soft, John.”

“It was really true, peach.” he laughs, then he looks back at the pictures, “So, where do we start?”

You grab the large stack of pictures of you and John, and you lean against his shoulder as the two of you walk down memory lane.

__

John has been in the kitchen for the past three hours and if you didn’t hear the pots and pans clanging around, you’d think he’d have passed out. He’s been so quiet and focused on his dinner.

Jimmy and Tess are on their way over, so you get off the couch and head into the kitchen to set the table. As you walk into the kitchen, you stop in your tracks when John turns around and reaches out to open the oven door.

“Sorry,” he laughs, squinting his eyes as he looks at the turkey, “Almost done.”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling, but it’s so hard. John is so excited to finally have a big family meal, and he’s been telling you all morning how special this is to him. It’s sweet that he’s so excited over it -- he’s much more excited about the fact that you’re all going to have a nice big meal together than he is about the holiday itself, of course.

“Smells so good in here, babe.” you say as you move around the kitchen. You stand on your tiptoes to reach the nicer plates on the top shelf, but you still can’t reach them. Turning around to ask John for help, you see him watching you closely, “Mr. Wick?”

John shakes his head and looks up at you, “Sorry, you just…look so good today.”

You look down at your purple sports bra and leggings, “It’s just so hot in here right now. I was going to change actually. I have a cute dress that I was going to put on. I know Tess and Amanda will both dress cute, and I don’t want to look like a slob.”

A smile tugs at John’s lips as he walks over to you, “I think you look good in this.”

“I’m wearing a bra and leggings. I can’t wear this for dinner.” you laugh as John wraps his arms around your waist. “Wish you weren’t cooking right now.”

“Yeah?” John brushes his nose against yours and smiles, “Why’s that?”

“Because I really want you right now.” you whisper as John leans closer to your lips, “Seeing you all domestic is…a big turn on for me.”

“Oh, so you’re turned on?”

You nod your head as John’s hands slides to your ass, “Very much so.”

John’s lips brush against yours before he pulls you closer to his chest and kisses you tenderly. He keeps his left hand on your ass, but he moves his right hand up to cup your face, then he tilts your head to the side so he can kiss your neck.

A knock at the front door stops the two of you from going any further, and John winks at you as he moves further into the kitchen to finish getting dinner ready.

“Later?”

You nod as you look at John, “Of course.”

Heading to the front door, you let Jimmy in and usher him to the kitchen to show him where John is.

“Tess is gonna be on her way soon. Finn was just waking up from his nap, so she told me to just come over and see if you two needed help. I think it was her way of getting me off her back for a minute.” Jimmy says as he walks into the kitchen, “But I see you definitely don’t need help. Holy shit, man, it smells good in here.”

You give John a small wave before you leave the kitchen and head upstairs to change into something else. You have a cute dress that you can wear with a pair of black tights, and it won’t be too thick so you won’t sweat to death. Once John is done cooking, the house will cool down of course.

Smiling as you look at yourself in the mirror, you run your hands down the sides of your dress to smooth it out, then you put a layer of lipstick on. It’s a holiday, you might as well go all out. You take a look at yourself in the mirror again and fluff your hair out a little before returning to the kitchen.

As soon as you walk into the kitchen, John stops mid sentence and smiles as you look up at him. He’s almost speechless, which is pretty damn flattering.

“Wow,” he reaches out for your hand and smiles, “You look beautiful, baby.”

You laugh as your cheeks grow red; after all this time, you still get a little shy around John, “Thank you.”

“So, yeah, my car is at the shop again.” John says, keeping a firm grip on your waist to keep you from leaving. You lean against him as he talks to Jimmy, but when Tess announces her arrival loudly, he lets go of you, “Sorry, I wasn’t holding you hostage.”

“I know,” you laugh as you look up at him, tilting your head back further for a kiss, “You look handsome today. Your cheeks are a little red though. You might need to step outside for a few minutes to cool down.”

You chuckle as you wipe the deep red lipstick off his John’s beard and lips, and he hums as he kisses you again despite that fact that every time you kiss him, you leave a little lipstick behind. You hold his face in your hand as you stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and he walks around the kitchen proudly with it, like some trophy he’s won.

“Hey,” Tess says as she comes into the kitchen, “Oh, my god, it smells so good. I didn’t even eat breakfast this morning just so I could have room for more food.”

You laugh as you walk over to the corner of the kitchen for the high chair. John had bought it months ago when the two of you watched Harper and Benji, and you decided that it would be a good idea to just keep it. You’re planning on having kids eventually anyway.

“I haven’t eaten since last night, and I’m starving. John hasn’t let me even have a tiny taste of anything.” you say, and John rolls his eyes jokingly as he brings a large bowl of mashed potatoes to the table. “I’m kidding. He made some really good cherry turnovers for breakfast. He’s feeding me well.”

Tess laughs, “Oh, yes, I was so worried that once you married him, he’d never feed you.”

“We got potatoes, also sweet potatoes since I know Jimmy likes that.” John says, and Jimmy nods his head. John points at everything on the table and looks up at Jimmy and Tess, “Also peach mentioned that she wanted to try this cranberry stuffing since it sounded good, so fingers crossed that it turned out. Of course everything else is the typical thanksgiving stuff.”

Sitting down at the table, you look over at John and smile as you place your napkin in your lap, and you watch him as he sets a few more bowls of food down on the table. He looks so proud of everything he’s made, and he smiles when he looks at you.

“Look, I won’t do a speech or anything, but…this really means a lot to me. Holidays are hard for me -- were hard for me.” he says, reaching for your hand, “Not so much anymore. I have my family now. I’m so thankful for you, peach. You bring so much happiness into my life, you’ll never truly know how much you mean to me.”

You blush as you playfully shrug, “It’s nothing.”

“Like I said, I won’t do a speech, but I’m really thankful for you all.” John smiles, then he laughs when he sees Finn with food all over his face, “My little buddy has the right idea. Let’s eat.”

You lean over to kiss John when he sits back down next to you, then you gesture to the turkey and hand him the knife, “It’s your big moment, Jonathan. Make me proud.”

__

You’re tucked into John’s side as you all sit in the living room and try to come out of your food coma. You ate way too much, but John really knocked it out of the park with dinner. Jimmy is trying his best not to fall asleep, and Tess keeps kicking his leg to keep him awake.

“He’s gonna fall asleep.” she says as she crawls over to him, “Babe, go lay down in the guest bedroom.”

Jimmy rubs his hands over his face as he sits up, “I’m sorry, just give me 30 minutes and I’ll be myself.”

You laugh as you look over at John, who is completely knocked out. To be fair, he’s been up since about 4:30 this morning. You push his hair away from his face and lean up to kiss his cheek in hopes that it’ll wake him up peacefully.

“Baby,” you whisper as you rub his chest, “Baby, go lay down.”

John sits up as he squints his eyes, “I’m okay, I don’t need to lay down.”

“You’ve been up since 4:30, just go lay down.” you rub your hand over his chest again and watch as he stretches out across the couch. He puts his head in your lap and smiles when you look down at him. He reaches for your hand and places it on his head, smiling sleepily. You shake your head as you lean down to kiss him, “Fine.”

Running your fingers through John’s hair, you look up at Tess as she talks to you, and you lean forward a little to see John is fast asleep.

“You think he’s out?”

You lean forward again to look at John, then you nod as you look at Tess, “Yeah, his face always looks really…well, it always looks really good, but it always looks so calm when he’s asleep. So, yeah, he’s asleep. Look how sweet he is.”

Tess laughs as she looks at him, “He’s so cute. He really went all out for us today, it was sweet.”

“I think Thanksgiving was the first holiday he spent with Helen, so I think it just means a lot to him. I sometimes think about how hard it must have been that first year for John. Being all alone.” you frown as you continue running your fingers through John’s hair, “I’m glad that I’m here now though.”

Tess nods her head as she looks down at Finn laying next to her, “So, not to be too invasive, but…how is getting pregnant coming along?”

“Well,” you laugh quietly, “I went to an appointment yesterday because I was convinced that I’m infertile, but Doctor Reed essentially told me to chill the fuck out and keep trying. Oh, and she told me to install some app.”

“The ovulation app?” Tess asks, and you nod. “Do it, it really does help. I mean, I’m not using it obviously. Though I did have a bit of a…scare the other day. Jimmy and I freaked out and we both prayed it was negative. It was. Of course we want more kids, and we’d have been beyond happy if it was positive, but thankfully it was not. We couldn’t handle another baby right now. Anyway, back to you.”

You shrug, “I just had my period the other day, so I’ll be ovulating soon. John and I both have the apps on our phones to track it, so hopefully it’ll be this month. I wanted to get pregnant by the end of the year, but I just didn’t think it’d take this long.”

“You still have a whole month. The year isn’t over yet.” she says, trying her best to cheer you up. “It’ll happen, babe.”

Inhaling deeply, you lean back against the couch, “Oh, my doctor suggested an OB for me. Doctor Mendez.”

Tess gasps so loudly that John jumps a little, and she immediately reaches out and apologizes, “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” John says as he sits up, “I should get up anyway. Amanda and Aurelio will be here soon.”

Tess looks at you and smiles, “Doctor Mendez was my OB. She’s amazing. You will love her. She’s so sweet and nice, and she doesn’t talk all…technical. She’ll just say it like it is, and she’ll be really helpful to you, I think.”

“Well, with you and my doctor both saying I’ll like her, I definitely want to see her when the times comes.”

Tess holds your gaze and smiles, “It’ll happen.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

You’ve heard that a few times lately.

__

“I will be so honest with you, I would love to have sex right now, but I ate so much food today that I literally don’t think I could even move.” you laugh as John kisses up your arm. “I feel pretty gross. Don’t get me wrong, I would totally go downstairs and eat another plate of turkey and mashed potatoes, but I’m ready for bed.”

John laughs as he looks at the clock, “It’s only 6:43.”

You close your eyes and hum when John kisses your neck. “I want to, John, I really do.”

“Okay, I’ll stop.” John laughs as he sits up, then he looks over at you looking at him, “Did you have a good day?”

You reach out for John and push his hair out of his face, “I did, thank you. Everything was so good. I’m already thinking about making a turkey sandwich for lunch tomorrow.”

“Dessert was good.” John says, and you nod your head.

“I see why you love Amanda’s cheesecake, by the way.” you laugh as John leans over to kiss you, “It was good. I’d like to think that you’d like mine too.”

“I’m sure I would.” John smiles as he scoots closer to you. Laying his head on your pillow, John places his hand on your stomach and rubs it back and forth as you watch him. “So, how are you feeling today?”

“Better.” you nod as he sits up, “I talked to Amanda and Tess, and they helped me. I think that everything has just been so easy for you and I since we met, and with this, it hasn’t been. So, I’m not used to it.”

“What do you mean?” John asks with genuine interest. “Talk to me about it.”

Getting up from the bed, you pull off your dress and bra to change into your leggings and sports bra from this morning, then you tie your hair up and crawl back into bed with John.

“Everything with you and I has been so simple and easy. Yes, we did have a rough patch for a short while, but we worked past it. We met, started dating, moved in together, got engaged, and got married. All within a year. It’s been so easy for us. Everything has. We get along so well, and our relationship is easy.”

John nods, “Well, we put work into it.”

“We do.” you nod in agreement as you reach for his hand, “But it’s easy for us to work on it because we love each other.”

“I’m crazy about you.” John whispers as he looks at you. “Still can’t believe you’re my wife.”

You cup John’s face and rub your thumb against his beard, “I’m so in love with you, Jonathan.”

John pulls you closer to him and presses a soft and tender kiss to your lips, “I’m sorry, I got you off track.”

“You did, I don’t mind though.” you laugh as you lean down to kiss him again, “Anyway, I think everything has been so easy for us, and the fact that this is taking a little longer than I had hoped is just hard. I know you can’t rush it, and even my doctor told me to calm down, but I just want to have a baby with you.”

John laughs as he looks up at you, “I know you do, and I do too.”

“I just feel bad because it’s almost the end of the year and I kept saying ‘oh, don’t worry, it’ll happen soon’, and it hasn’t happened. I kept promising you that we’d have a baby soon. How many times have I said that it’ll happen soon? So many times. I keep breaking that promise to you, and I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

“Hey,” John moves your hands away from your face when you cover it, and he sits up and holds you in his arms as he leans against the headboard, “You know I don’t blame you one bit. It’s never even crossed my mind to blame you. These things take time. You can’t rush perfection, right?”

You laugh tearfully, “Right.”

“Our baby is going to be perfect in every way, I just know it.” he says, wiping away the tear on your cheek, “And I believe that we will have a baby soon. We’re in no rush, it’s not like I’m going anywhere. Remember, baby, I’m in it for the long haul no matter what.”

You reach over and grab your phone to look at your ovulation app, “Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky next month. My next ovulation day is December 6.”

John laughs as he holds you, “It’s a date then.”

__ 

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[originalhybridloverfics]

Don’t Give up Now - Ch 1

A/N: There's chapter is mainly Serkan-Centric.

I apologize for medical inaccuracies. I suck at research.

Eda stepped out onto the terrace, she wore a floor-length purple gown, her hair was curled and swept over one shoulder. She was at a charity gala that Efe’s company was having to support scholarships and education for young women in today’s world.

After finding out that Serkan had kept so vital of a secret from her, Eda could no longer trust him and left for Italy. She finished her school work. Efe came to her graduation. They celebrated with dinner and caught up with one another.

At the end of the night, Efe offered her a job with his architect firm and Eda gladly accepted. She did not want to return to Turkey. She didn’t think she could handle being close to Serkan or run the risk of seeing him or working with him because they would be in the same field.

Eda started to build a life for herself in Italy far away from the heartbreak and betrayal she experienced. While she missed her aunt and the girls her new life was good.

She loved her job, she loved Italy. She was excited about where her life was heading, the only dark cloud was whenever she thought of Serkan.

She hated to admit that she thought of him often. Too often.

She looked up at the night sky, eyes shining brightly. The stars were out and they never failed to make her think of Serkan.

Her smile faded, she crossed her arms over herself.

She resented that she sometimes wondered how Serkan was doing. Had he moved on with his life? Was he happy now? Did he ever think of her? Did he miss her?

“Eda!”

Eda turned to see Efe waving her over, he was surrounded by a group of people.

She forced a smile, putting her thoughts of the past and Serkan behind her, and rejoined the party.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Serkan rubbed a hand down his face, once again he stayed late at the office. Working himself to the point of exhaustion. He was so tired, his body ached and he felt like he barely had the energy to leave his office and go home.

He contemplated just crashing on the sofa but his body already hurt. He didn’t want to deal with more aches and pains.

He should have seen his doctor about the headaches he been experiencing but he couldn’t. Maybe it was his way of punishing himself.

He knew on some level that there was something wrong with him but maybe the pain, the suffering he was experiencing was his way of seeking penance for ruining everything he touched.

For breaking the one woman he ever loved.

Serkan pushed up from his chair, he grabbed his jacket from the back of it, slipping it back on, and headed out.

He started down the stairs, stopping when he felt dizzy, and reached for the banister but missed and went sideways.

It happened at once, he lost control of his balance and toppled forward, falling down the stairs his leg twisted, he landed on his hand and his head slammed against the unforgiving floor.

He heard a scream and a flash of red hair, running toward him before everything went black.

When Serkan awoke again, the lights were bright, white walls surrounded him, there was the strong smell of disinfectant cleaners.

He jerked back as the light was shined in his eyes.

“Mr. Bolat, do you know where you are?”

His eyes shot to the voice. A doctor stood over him, shining a light in his eye, looking concerned.

“The hospital,” he answered. “How did I get here? The last thing I remember was being at the office.”

“You had a fall, lucky for you, your co-worker was working late as well. She called an ambulance and you were brought here.”

Serkan opened his mouth to ask who when suddenly his stomach churned violently, bile rose up, he lurched forward and the doctor barely avoided being covered in projectile vomit.

Serkan coughed and sputtered wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, face scrunching in disgust. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’ll have the nurse get you some water to rinse your mouth out with. It’s very likely you have a concussion but I want to rule out anything serious so I am going to have you sent up for a few tests.”

“Why? I’m fine.” Serkan protested.

“Mr. Bolat when you fell, you didn’t just twist your ankle or land on your wrist, you smacked your head. Head injuries are dangerous and should always be taken seriously. We will run a test and if all looks well we will send you on your way. For now just rest, a nurse will be with you in a minute.”

Serkan opened his mouth to argue that he did not need any unnecessary tests. He just wanted to leave and be left alone but his head was throbbing beyond belief. The words died on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he shut his eyes against the pain.

When he opened them again the doctor was gone. He sighed irritably and leaned his head back against the propped up hospital pillow behind him.

It was almost two hours later before the doctor's personnel staff were all done with his test. Piril had been in and out of the room. She had been the one to call the ambulance. Out of respect to Serkan, she had called no one and told them what happened but refused to leave Serkan alone.

Serkan was annoyed but he knew she did it because she cared and Piril like himself did not show her emotions well.

Piril stepped out of the room when the doctor returned, giving Serkan the privacy to talk to the doctors alone.  

“Mr. Bolat, your test came back and the good news is that you only have a mild concussion, nothing to be concerned about, unfortunately. It’s the only good news I have for you.”

“What are you talking about?” Serkan asked, wondering what else could be wrong. He was fine. He was always fine.

“Our scans show you have a tumor. The tumor appears to be rather large and is pressing down on your occipital lobe. Tell me, Mr. Bolat. Have you been experiencing headaches, nose bleeds, nausea, seizures, blurred vision, loss of consciousness, balance, confusion…”

Serkan’s vision narrowed down, and the doctor’s voice suddenly felt like it was traveling down a tunnel.

A brain tumor. He had a tumor. How was this possible?

“It’s important that you understand your diagnosis and start treatment immediately. Depending on the type of tumor and the placement, it could be very aggressive and dangerous.”

“I want to leave,” Serkan said abruptly as a coldness swept over him.

“I will have your release papers drawn up along with everything you need to know about your condition. I will set an appointment up for you with the head of our neurologist and oncology departments. I will have everything fax over to your primary doctor. I promise you will get the best care we have to offer.”

Serkan said nothing and when the doctor realized he wasn’t going to, he stepped out of the room.

20 minutes later Serkan was in the passenger seat of Piril’s car and she was driving him home.

“Is everything okay, Serkan?” Piril asked when she pulled up outside his place. “You haven’t spoken since we left the hospital. Was the news bad?”

Serkan looked at Piril, he hadn’t yet fully come to terms with what his doctor had told him and he decided now was not the time to discuss it until he fully understood what his condition was.

“I’ll be okay,” He said. He held tightly to the papers the doctor had given him, keeping them out of Piril’s view. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you, Piril. Good night.”

“Good night, Serkan.” Piril nodded, out of concern she waited till he was inside before driving away, hoping everything was okay.

Serkan was greeted by Sirius who whined at his feet until Serkan sat down and the dog could settle its head on Serkan’s knee.

Serkan smiled a barely-there smile, rubbing the top of Sirius' head, and scratching behind his ears and the back of his neck. After a moment, Serkan turned his attention to the papers the doctor had given him, detailing his prognosis, symptoms, and treatments and the stages, and what to expect.

Serkan was feeling lost by the time he was done reading, he twirled the ring on his finger. Eda’s ring.

Eda.

He missed her and he needed her desperately more than ever.

He pushed off the couch, deciding to turn in for the night, he had work tomorrow and then his doctor appointments in the afternoon. For now, he would keep his condition to himself until he learned from the neurologist what can be done to stop the tumor in its tracks.

He was at work the next morning before anyone else even got to the office. He couldn’t sleep the night before and thought he would be more productive at his office working than at home doing nothing.

Piril said nothing about his accident and he appreciated that she did not tell Engin. He wasn’t ready for anyone to know about the problems with his health. He wasn’t even sure if he would tell anyone. He worried about telling his mother.

It was easier to think about others than himself. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Where did he go from here?

The day bled together until he got an appointment reminder from his phone, he stood in the middle of a meeting, apologizing but telling everyone the meeting had to be rescheduled for another time because he had another meeting to get to.

“Serkan Bey!”

Serkan almost out the door but he stopped and answered in a tired sigh. “Yes, Leila?”

“I don’t have any other meetings on your schedule,” she said in protest. “Did I make a mistake?”

“No,” Serkan shook his head. “This is a personal meeting. Nothing to do with work. I’ll be back shortly. Field my calls until I return.”

He didn’t wait for her reply before exiting the building and heading for his car.

He was almost to the hospital when his vision blurred, a car honked suddenly. He swerved, narrowly missing smashing into another car.

He quickly pulled over, and pressed his forehead to the steering wheel, breathing deeply.

He shut his eyes tightly and felt a pounding at the back of his skull. It hurt but he breathed through it.

He waited until his head stopped hurting, his vision was still a little blurred when he opened his eyes so he waited and waited until finally, it didn’t seem as bad.

It was almost 15 minutes later before he felt he was ready to pull on the road again.

He arrived at his appointment late, his doctor was unbothered by this but wanted to start running a more thorough test immediately.

Serkan realizing this could take longer than he was expecting called Leila and told her he would be gone for the rest of the day and to reschedule everything on his calendar for today for a later date.

Serkan spent what felt like days but was really only hours being poked and prodded, having test after test done.

He was beyond annoyed with it all and was relieved when the doctor finally sat down to give him his results. However, his relief was short-lived.

He had an aggressive tumor, pressing on his occipital lobe and without treatment, it would get larger. There were a few options available to him, surgery, radiation, chemotherapy. The placement and the size of the tumor made surgery tricky and there was a likelihood that complications would arise. Radiation and Chemo could shrink the tumor but again it could cause further complications. There was no guarantee the treatment would work.

Serkan’s condition was advanced, his chances were lower than the doctor liked. He was in for a long hard battle.

The doctor suggests Serkan go home, take a few days and then they would come up with a treatment plan best suited for him.

Serkan nodded. He knew he should feel something, fear, grief, sadness, anger, something but his emotions felt far away. Almost like he was out of his body and could no longer feel what he was supposed to feel.

He walked out and headed down to the lobby, he was about to step out of the elevator when he changed his mind about leaving so soon.

Instead, he walked up to the receptionist and asked. “Hi, I’m looking for the Oncology floor?”

“Fifth floor.” The reception told him with a sympathetic smile.

Serkan got back on the elevator and took it to the fifth floor.

He walked down the halls, peering inside the rooms, he wanted to look and see what the next few months had in store for him and he wished he hadn’t.

Every room was filled with sickness, suffering, pain. Pale patients lying in beds with no energy, looking like they would rather be dead than alive. Some tossing and turning, crying out in pain, others throwing up in bens, spewing bile everywhere on the nurse in the room, their hospital gowns, and the floor.

However, it wasn’t seeing all that that had him backing away a pit forming in his stomach, his heart growing heavy. It was seeing the loved ones in the room, looking hopeless to help, the grief and sadness in their eyes, their faces twisted in early grief.

How could he possibly put his mother through that? How could he make her watch him suffer for something that might not even work? He didn’t want his mother’s last memories of him to be of a sick man fighting what cannot be defeated.

He turned walking away swiftly. He found his way to the surgical recovery floor.

He looked into the rooms, he found one recovering from brain surgery. There was a young woman in the room, crying and clinging to his hand as if her life depended on it. He couldn’t hear what she was saying but the grief bled through her as she sobs at the man’s bedside.  

“Can I help you, sir?”

Serkan turned to see an older doctor standing a few feet behind him. “I..uh..no, I was visiting a friend but he’s not doing good. I just went for a walk-”

“Say no more,” the man said sympathetically. “It’s never easy seeing a friend or loved one like this. We do what we can to help but sometimes it’s not enough. Take this man for instance,” the doctor indicated to the man through the window Serkan was in front of. “He had a brain hemorrhage, we took him into surgery but the brain is a tricky thing, though we stopped the bleeding it was too late. He has no brain activity and now all we can do now is give his family the time to say goodbye before-”

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” Serkan said abruptly. He couldn’t hear any more. He had to get away. The hospital walls with its sadness, illness, pain, grief, suffering was closing in on him. He needed to get out. He couldn’t breathe.

Was this how Eda felt every time she had a panic attack? Or his mother when she tried to go outside before she overcame her fear?

He left the hospital quickly, retreating to his car, he waited until his panic subsided before pulling back out on the road.

He did not go back to work. He made the drive to his mother’s. She was outside in the garden with Seyfi. She looked to be in the middle of planning one of her galas for her foundation.

She was going through folders, smiling as she said something to Seyfi who nodded jotting down what she said on a tablet.

Seyfi looked up by chance and smiled. “Mr. Serkan.”

His mother got to her feet, her smile wide. She moved forward to embrace him, he met her halfway.

His mother pulled back with a smile. “This is a surprise. I thought you would be at work.” she frowned suddenly. “Is there something wrong? A crisis?”

“No, nothing of the sort.” he lied, he did not want to take her good mood away. “I skipped lunch. I thought we could go out and eat at your favorite cafe by the riverfront.”

Aydan smiled wide. “Really? Yes, I would like that very much.”

Seyfi went to get her things and half an hour later, Serkan, Aydan, and Seyfi were seated at her favorite cafe.

Serkan took in his mother’s face as she enjoyed being out and experiencing everything first hand and just enjoying life, the smile that radiated from her because they were sharing something as simple as a meal lit up the whole cafe.

Aydan had such a love and hunger to enjoy life to the fullest since recovering from her condition that Serkan knew he couldn’t take that happiness from her.

He couldn’t tell her about his illness and he would not put her through the pain, the likelihood that he would survive even with treatment was low and he would not put her through the suffering of watching him die slowly in agony, fighting a war that could not be won.

No, he would not get treatment. He would let things run their course, spend what time he had left with his loved ones and the people closest to him,  enjoying what time he had left in this world.

A/N: Thanks for reading. I promise more Eda in the next chapter, along with Edser scenes.

[spicysoftsweet]

A Very Important Episode starring Hisoka

Or the one where Hisoka learns Bungee Gum is not a food group.

A/N: We all know that Hisoka likes candy and Bungee Gum but we would like to encourage Hisoka to make healthier choices and prevent diabetes complications. There will possibly be a part 2. I hope this is educational.

---

This time Hisoka had actually done it. He’d actually managed to fuck up his entire body beyond what he could repair with Bungee Gum or Machi’s services - which she was charging higher and higher for - and now he was somewhere almost unthinkable - an emergency room.

“Illumi~~~~” he half-sang, half-whined now that he was finally lucid, after undergoing an exploratory laparotomy to stabilize his profuse internal bleeding - the surgeons had been in awe of just how much of his body had been purely synthetic due to Texture Surprise exclaiming that he’d be an incredible case to write up - and being amped up full of pain meds. He probably didn’t need the pain meds, but it was fun to go in and out of consciousness; he couldn’t remember the last time he had an actual night of sleep.

His unwilling friend sat at the side of his hospital bed, legs crossed and focusing his jarringly large, black eyes at the fluid and blood that was being transfused into him by IV drip. A small part of him was surprised that Hisoka could be transfused with regular looking blood and regular looking fluid. He was almost sure that he was made up purely of nonsense and Bungee Gum.

“Illumi~” Hisoka moaned dramatically a second time. His gaze slid now to him, with lips pressed into a flat line of distaste.

“Don’t ever use my name as your emergency contact again.”

Illumi had to hide the fact that he was impressed Hisoka could spell clearly enough to make out the letters of his name and had actually retained his phone number. He had been surprised to get a call, but made his way over as soon as he had finished gutting an enemy and stringing them up for display as requested in his latest contract. The idea of Hisoka being dead was incredibly alarming, for he did enjoy his health and company, but also sparked a morbid curiosity in him. Could Hisoka actually die?

“But you came, didn’t you?” Hisoka teased, with a shit-eating grin.

He had him there.

There was a soft knocking on the door, and a young woman in a white coat, followed by a taller man wearing a pair of scrubs came in. The young woman glanced at Hisoka and then Illumi, visibly wincing at the hard stare of the latter in the semi-dark room, then raised her badge to introduce herself. 

“H-hello, I’m Dr. Rhgyl, I-” her eyes flickered to Illumi briefly, unsettled by the fact that he hadn’t yet blinked in the past two minutes, then shifted back to Hisoka, whose devilish smile was almost more unsettling. “I was one of your surgeons and am here to answer any questions you have.”

She turned to Illumi, and gave a nervous nod of the head. “And who is in the room with you, Mr. Morow?”

“My husband,” he said, in a sickly-sweet voice. Illumi gave him a glare, then crossed his arms.

“Sure,” was all he said.

Sure, what? What is sure? Just answer the damn question... The poor young doctor’s face fell as she already knew this was something she’d have to spend unnecessary minutes during her already excessively long call night clarifying in her documentation. She turned to her nurse behind her, who gave her a small shrug. 

“So uh, Mr. Morow, how is your pain?”

“It’s wonderful!”

The doctor again tried to conceal her internal screaming, and continued to keep her professional smile plastered on her face. “In that case, please let us know if you have any more pain, and your nurse will take care of it.”

“We do have one other issue, however, “ she added, making sure to communicate this next part as clearly and effectively as possible. Hisoka perked up in surprise, and Illumi continued to sit perfectly still, as still as a statue. “Your blood sugar. Your blood sugar was extremely elevated, and we were concerned about a diagnosis of prediabetes or diabetes.”

“Diabetes?”

“We expect you to make a fast recovery… surprisingly fast in fact, but we would still like you to follow up with a primary care doctor about your blood sugar. We’ll draw a lab test to check how your sugars were for the past 3 months, called a Hemoglobin A1c test, and then we’ll have your primary care doctor follow up the results and help you with strategies to have better control.”

Illumi turned to Hisoka, who he could tell that whatever the medical team was telling him was going in one ear and out the other, and he was now only thinking about either his next fight or Bungee Gum based on the elated smile on his face.

Bungee Gum.

Bungee Gum was the fucking problem. 

As the doctor and the nurse finally exited out of the room and Hisoka went back to telling Illumi battle stories, Illumi started to clear his schedule in his head, to figure out when he could best drag Hisoka to his follow-up appointments, which he would have to make for him. Someone had to be the adult in this relationship. 

---

Hisoka’s new primary care doctor, another similarly young woman, but less easily intimidated as the tired one from the hospital sat at a computer, pulling up his chart to review his lab results from his hospitalization.

Illumi and Hisoka noticed how she visibly paled as she scrolled, then turned to Hisoka and gave him a reassuring smile, that looked to reassure her more than them. 

“What is it? Am I dead?” Hisoka asked. Illumi gave him a look to quiet down.

“Well, you’re diabetic, all right... Your A1c is 14%.”

“Is that bad?”

She swiveled in her chair to face him, hands in her lap. 

“Well, diabetes is diagnosed at an A1c of 7%. So... unfortunately,  yes.”

Hisoka started counting on his fingers and Illumi forcefully put his hand down.

“Hisoka, listen to the doctor. Diabetes is serious. My great-grandaunt was diabetic.” Illumi said in an even, impassive voice.

“Oh, how old was she when she was diagnosed?” The doctor asked, attempting to build rapport with the patient and the patient’s loved ones.

Without skipping a beat, he replied, “206, exactly. She loved nothing more than to unwind with Mountain Dew after her assassination missions. She ended up on dialysis.” 

The doctor seemed to be at a loss of words briefly, so she turned back to Hisoka, pulling out a pen and a notepad to focus on rather than lose her cool. 

“So, uh… let’s start by talking a little about what you usually eat,” she began. “What do you eat in a typical day?”

“Hm... “ Hisoka didn’t usually keep track of what he ate, so it took him some time to come up with an account. “Ah! Okay, so in the morning, I usually skip breakfast, but sometimes I’ll have some Bungee Gum.”

Odd choice, the physician thought, but she nodded and wrote that down, allowing the floor to Hisoka to speak.

“For lunch, I try not to eat too much, but I also have a couple pieces or ten of Bungee Gum.”

Hm…

“Oh and for dinner, I have a bowl of gummy candy if I’m feeling particularly peckish and also Bungee Gum.”

She looked up from her pad and paper to see Hisoka looking blissfully unaware that he had just revealed that he subsists solely on sweets. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to pull at her hair repeatedly. This would be a ton of education, and she still wasn’t exactly sure what exactly Bungee Gum was.

---

Illumi parked his custom Ferrari minivan, purchased entirely for this shopping trip, outside the Costco Wholesale, and gave Hisoka, a long, hard look. 

“Do you have the list?” Illumi asked, hand outstretched as Hisoka handed over a partially crumpled sheet of paper, outlining the basics of a balanced, carbohydrate-controlled diet for people with diabetes.

Hisoka looked outside to the large building, then looked back at Illumi. “Isn’t this for families? I thought we were shopping for me only, and sometimes you when you come over.”

“I don’t know, the butlers told me that they come here to stock the kitchens. It seems from the website that this store provides high quality bulk goods for very competitive prices so this will be an appropriate next stop.”

This was just one out of countless stops today - Hisoka had spent the earlier part of the day searching frantically for sugar-free Bungee Gum in every supermarket in a 25-mile radius unsuccessfully, and demanding to see the manager every time, only to kill them when they told him they didn’t have his particular brand. Illumi warned him that there would be no such shenanigans any longer.

They stepped out of the car and walked right past the door greeter who was waiting eagerly for them to present their membership card only to recoil once they both turned to look at him in unison with intent to kill. 

The first things Hisoka noticed as he walked in were the multiple little free sample kiosks at the aisles every so often and curiously wandered over to them. 

“Make sure to avoid anything glazed or with a sauce,” Illumi called after him, poring through the list as he wandered over to the produce aisle. He didn’t understand the draw of free samples; if he wanted to try something, he would simply buy it.

Hisoka made his way to Illumi and Illumi’s overfilled grocery cart about a half-hour later after wandering the entire store, arms filled with small paper cups and tasting spoons. It was clear that he had sampled literally everything, possibly twice or thrice. Illumi let out a sigh and moved to the front of the store to check out. 

Keeping Hisoka’s blood sugar low would be a daunting task, but he was determined that by the next visit to his PCP, he’d have some improvement in his A1c. Texture Surprise can only replace so many amputated limbs at once. He’d just have to buy every supermarket’s supply of Bungee Gum and possibly halt every single production chain devoted to it or something similar. A pain, but it was worth it. Hisoka was annoying as all hell, but still, he was worth it.

[chiisai-fukurou]

About my hiatus :)

Long time no see... It has been a while since I published an article here...

A lot has happened and I think I cannot look at my blog the same way I did... I’ve been to Japan again last December and it was wonderful. I’ve spent a lot of time helping my friends and a lot of time visiting a neurologist for some troubles I’ve had for as long as I could think. It took a lot of time off of my schedule that I had to work hard to get back.

For a long time I had to fight with that feeling of being alien and not being able to fit in. For as long as I could think a lot of things just went over my head and I couldn’t fathom some things that happened around me. I cannot share a lot of things people around me think and talk about. There has been this suspicion that I’m autistic for a long time now so last year I decided to bite the bullet and get an appointment for a diagnosis.

It took 7 month of waiting for me to get to my first appointment. I chose a reputable neurologist/psychologist because I’m not a fan of “I think I have XX and just need a doctor to sign the diagnosis I made myself.” because if you want to improve your situation an accurate assessment of your current status is kind of paramount. I had several, hours long appointments that were quite costly but to me it was worth the time and money I paid for it. It was a very interesting experience too. There is a lot of testing and there are a lot of questions being asked to make sure it isn't something else causing you these troubles. There are a lot of things that can cause similar symptoms that are not autism. So carefully getting to the bottom of things takes time and multiple appointments to make sure that a bad or a good day didn't impact the diagnosis. I had to get a MRT too to make sure it is not brain damage that is causing the symptoms. I’m happy to declare that my brain is okay :) I’m however impartial to the diagnosis of autism/Aspergers.

I’m very happy I did this. The diagnosis allows me to get adequate help should I need it and it helps me understand my surroundings a lot better. The neurologist had a great analogy for my situation too: Autists have a different operating system running their hardware. Stimuli get processed in a very different way and there is no filter or automation happening that could help you with even simple conversations... Hence the seeming inability of autistic people to do smalltalk... Imagine the hell that human interaction can be, having to think of every sentence you say because you cannot do it casually or automatically, not being able to read the mood, knowing that you disappointed or hurt people without any chance of preventing it in the future... To many people this sounds weird and like I’m not even trying... I’m and the Neurologist told me I’m really well adapted but there are limits to how well one can adjust. Basically “normal” people have a social autopilot that handles a lot of things for them and autistic people don’t. We can never really relax in a social event because we get battered with details that we can't filter out. It’s tiring and yet I wish it wouldn't be tiring... because I wish to share things with friends and people. It took some time to get things sorted and deal with this experience.

I’m fine and in some way I felt liberated and happy I finally know what is up.

I had to weed out some connections that caused me grief and think of many things that happened in the past. A lot of things make sense now :)

I had an accident too this year breaking my left arm (;_;) and some stuff on my bicycle... I had a strained neck too... the surgeon didn't want to believe how quickly my bones healed (°_°;) The crack that ran through 75% of my Ulna wasn't visible or detectable anymore after 3 weeks...  The accident happened while I was riding at 40 km/h on my bicycle and touched a curb with the wheels... It happened after a long long day at work right when the whole COVID19 thing started to take off in Germany. I couldn’t get lunch at work and had spend the whole day on water with a empty tummy... I was tired, hungry and worn out. I just wanted to go home and didn't pay enough attention...

Anyway I’m fine now :) My bike is fine again too :)

However because of this a lot of tasks at work were piling up and when I came back I had to do a lot of stuff trying to get on top of things... Because I work at a company that makes medical devices the current situation kind of overwhelmed the company as well... basically we get as many orders per month as we used to get within a year... This is incredibly challenging as our suppliers often can't keep up with the demand but I’m very happy to report that everyone of them is doing their best to keep up and to stay on top of the whole situation :,) I’m happy i can do my small part in saving lives and I think that a company where people stick together and try to do their best in trying times is incredibly valuable :)

Last year, while travelling through Japan, I once again noticed how awful tourist spots have become (-_-) Japan is close to my heart and I like the country and its people a lot. Many tourists behave badly, not out of ill intent but out of ignorance... Japanese value quiet, peaceful and clean behaviour but a lot of tourists seem to be unable to behave this way... They litter, leave toilets behind that are disgusting, are rude, don’t pay attention and seem to think Japan is a theme park. I like this country and I’m saddened that other foreigners tarnish the image of visitors and are taking advantage of incredibly kind people who welcome you as a guest :,( I felt bad that I wrote all those articles that might have inspired this kind of people to go to Japan :,( I want this kind of people to stay at home. You're ruining it for everyone else. My friends cheered me up a lot. Still the sight of drunken tourists puking on Takao-San in Tokyo or yelling loudly in a group at a shrine, throwing their cigarets and garbage on the streets in Kyoto, running through the streets while yelling or necessitating the fencing in of neighbourhood shrines because some dippshit thought it would be fun to put graffiti on them makes me incredibly sad. I’m sorry for the negativity but this has been troubling me a lot.

I received some questionable messages too... I’m a guy but some people seemed to assume that I’m a Japanese girl for some reason... 

Anyway I kind of came to terms with things and will start writing again.

I hope people will become more respectful over time :)

I’m sorry for the rant I put in this article m(_ _)m I felt like I had to get it off of my chest because this has been bothering me a lot.

P.S. if you think autism is caused by vaccines, being autistic is better than being dead or to suffer from the consequences of an otherwise preventable disease. You do not “get” autism, one of the conditions that has to be met to get a diagnosis is that you had to have symptoms right from the start. Things that can cause similar symptoms are brain damage, PTSD, ADHD (you are born with that  too and cannot get it) and certain medications. These however are different from autism in that they have to be treated differently. Hence the focus during diagnosis on making sure not to diagnose one of the other things as autism. I showed symptoms for as long as I can think back. 

I hope you’ll forgive me for my long absence and won't change your attitude towards me :)

I’m still me albeit more confident and accepting of myself since I don't need to pester myself with questions like “why didn't i understand that.”, “Why can't I do that?”, etc. :)

Thank you to everyone who read through all of this :) I wish you a great time with sweet daydreams (^-^)/

[andthoselongeyes]

sad alfred thing

in which alfred is planning on proposing

angst

alfred gathered up his index cards, reading them over for the tenth time. he knew this had to be perfect. alice deserved the perfect proposal. he already had a venue for the event, and now, he just had to practice for tonight. he had to practice over and over until he got it right.

“ring? check. outfit? check. dinner? check,” alfred ran over his checklist again and again, praying to have everything he needed squared away. he made sure to keep his voice low, though, as his darling was asleep just in the next room. his daring alice, the girl he was hopefully going to marry someday. that idea almost felt far fetched as he thought back to their days in primary school, only 5 and 6, as they struggled through the complicated words of Alice in Wonderland for the first time. they huddled under a tree in his backyard once alice got home from school, and they would pretend to act out different scenes from the book. alice always dubbed as alice, and him as the white rabbit. the white rabbit with his ticking stopwatch.

alfred shook himself out of his thoughts, though the fond smile on his face didn’t go away. he finished packing his crossover bag and checked himself in the mirror. he tussled his hair ever so gently before slipping out the door. no matter how much he would love to stay in and sleep with alice, he had to get breakfast and open up his shop. his schedule was busier than ever, and it was all a countdown to the evening, where he could finally ask alice to be his wife. he knew he was bad at verbalizing his love to her, so he had to make this perfect. often, she went thinking he only tolerated her because he was lonely, but it was far from true. he adored the curious girl with all his hard, no matter what shenanigans she pulled.

as he headed out the door, he checked his phone. he was expecting a call from his doctor with lab results back for a few different tests. he had been having a rough cough for about a month and a half, and while he was sure it was just a prolonged cold, he wanted to know for sure. the unknowing left alfred more anxious than anything else. he was supposed to get the call at 7:30am, and it was 7:00.

thirty more minutes.

alfred headed to the bakery near the cottage, and got himself a croissant to snack on as he walked to his book store. he quietly noted to himself to remember the book he got for alice. he had seen her eyeing it when she visited him over lunch. once a month, he would always surprise her with a new one, and she would surprise him with a small bouquet from her flower shop. it was a tradition at this point. he grabbed his phone, checking the time again.

fifteen more minutes.

anxiety grew throughout the rabbit-like boy as 7:30 came nearer and nearer. he tried reassuring himself that it was more than likely nothing, he would get the tests back saying he was okay. yet, there was still this voice nagging in the back of his head with each and every what if.

ten minutes.

the voice kept whispering that the world could be cruel. the world doesn’t want its citizens happy. the optimist in alfred (which has sprouted when he met alice) argued these points firmly, but it was tearing him apart.

nine minutes.

alfred thought back to his mom, and how cruelly she had been taken away from their family. with coughing fits and blood, with not being able to kiss him goodnight for months. with pale skin and frail bones. the same illness he was being tested for had taken his mother out of his life.

eight minutes.

what if alice had to endure that pain? what about his father and his sister? he couldn’t stand to see them watch him deteriorate from illness. he knew that pain, and he wouldn’t even wish it upon his sworn enemies. it was a heart-wrenching feeling. it can tear someone apart from the inside out.

seven minutes.

it couldn’t be positive. he was okay, he was sure of it. he was proposing to alice tonight, and all would be well. they would be okay, and in a few months, maybe a year, he would be marrying alice. right? they had been through so much together, wasn’t this supposed to be their happy ending?

six minutes.

or what if it wasn’t? the world had a funny way of tearing the world apart right as everything starts looking up. dooming it with grief and illness. that was the sad truth, and alfred knew it. things don’t work out just because they should.

five minutes.

alfred was trembling at this point, searching in his bag for the keys to the store. he pulled them out and started fumbling with the lock.

four min-

he felt his phone buzz in his pockets. they were early. alfred sat down on the bench at his entrance, letting the keys fall to the ground. he pressed the answer button, holding the phone to his ear.

“hello. is this alfred hallam?”

“yes, yes. that’s me. hi.” alfred began tapping his knee, his anxiety rushing back at full force.

“on thursday, you came in for testing for multiple different illnesses and viruses. we have your results back. most everything came back negative, but mr. hallam, you have active tuberculosis. it has seemed to have evolved quite a lot already, so we need...”

alfred’s face fell. tears began to well in his eyes, and he stopped listening to the doctor as he continued going on and on. his mind rushed through every outcome this diagnosis could bring about. many of them plagued with death and heartache all around him. his breathing became heavy, and he was starting to fade out of reality until the sharp voice cut him out of it.

“mr. hallam! did you hear me?”

“what-? i-“ he paused, trying to take a gentle breath. “no, i didn’t. could you please repeat the last thing you said.”

“we have you scheduled for an immediate appointment tomorrow at 9am. does that work for you?”

“yeah. that’s fine. i’ll mark it in my schedule,” his words were faint. the doctor tried to mutter out an apology and a well wish, but alfred hung up before he could hear the rest. his hands were trembling and breathing was becoming harder than normal. he was panicking and slipping over the edges.

how could this happen? what kind of cruel joke could this be? why would the world rip the last thing he had from him? he worked hard. he did his best to protect his family and loved ones. he tried to be a good person. why was this his reward? how was this fair? no, it couldn’t be someone who had a truly evil heart. it was always those who try the most to be good to everyone.

alfred’s attention was drawn back to his bag. more specifically, the blue velvet box he had gently wrapped in his bag. the tears started falling as he thought about his plans for that night, for he and alice. all the hard work down the drain. as much as he would love to still be with alice, proposing to her wasn’t something he could do anymore. to put the pressure of trying to plan a wedding and care for him while he was sick on her was unbearable and cruel to think about. it would fill her up with so much hope, only for it to be taken away when his last breath leaves his body. he tried for so long to hold out hope and be optimistic through it all. through his mother’s illness and death, through his anxiety attacks, through everything the world threw at him, because at least he and alice were okay. at least he hasn’t lost himself or her yet. this was easily the last straw.

he mustered up the rest of his strength to open his phone and search for pawn shops nearby. he found the closest one and pressed call. when someone picked up, through a shaky voice and tears, he managed out, “how much do you buy engagement rings for on average?”

[nisaadventures]

Can’t Control Chaos

Sometimes, when life has thrown SO MUCH at you, when you feel battered and broken... sometimes all that is left are hope, love, and determination... or at least that is all I have left.

I don’t want to start the year off on a “bad note,” but this holiday season has been cruel... there’s a C word for you... Yes, of course there were good moments and I have so much to be thankful for... but the season has been cruel none the less.

I honestly have been avoiding really processing what is happening... denial of course... fear of jinxing it, hope, luck, a miracle... whatever you’d like to call it.

I think I also have just been tired... too tired to really answer when someone asks, “How are you?” Because really? I’m not so okay... I haven’t been for a long time...

***So some background***

In early 2020, my godmother, Josie (Mama Jo), had started complaining of groin pain. I advised her to consult her doctor to get it checked out. Based on what she told me and my previous knowledge in women’s health, I thought it might be an ovarian cyst. These are quite common and can cause discomfort similar to what she described. Her doctor’s first diagnosis was possible muscle strain... prescribed her some medication, rest, and sent her home...

The pain persisted and worsened over the coming weeks, so I told her to advocate for herself and have her doctor investigate further... The issues with the American healthcare system.... But lets not get into that right now...

By this time, March 2020, the COVID pandemic was hitting California and we were forced into shelter in place.

Her doctor finally ordered some tests and found an extremely large mass, about 20cm in diameter... She was immediately scheduled for surgery. You can kind of see where this is going... In surgery they removed the mass with some difficulty and we were informed...

... the big C... not COVID... Cancer...

No one could be with her in the hospital after her surgery, we couldn’t visit when she had to stay extra days to recover... but we could speak to her and see her posting on facebook. She was doing okay and surgery was “successful.”

Ovarian cancer is in the top 5 cancer deaths among women and accounts for more deaths than any other female reproductive cancer... Now the reason for this is usually because there are little to no symptoms and when it is diagnosed, it is usually a late stage... In a way, we were blessed Mama Jo was experiencing pain. Her cancer was discovered at stage IIA, meaning she had some spread within her reproductive system, but none to neighboring abdominal organs or lymph nodes... good?

So the next step was chemo. Another C... interesting...

First infusion & cutting Mama Jo’s hair.

She was scheduled for a total of 6 rounds of chemo. Each round consisted of 1 appointment every Friday, for 3 weeks. 1 week of 2 drug infusions, and 2 weeks of a single. In total, 18 weeks. She handled it like a champ. Luckily she didn’t experience the extreme and awful symptoms, until her last round...

She started to feel the effects more and more as the chemo had gradually started to break her down. Finally, after about her 16th infusion, the start of the final round, her electrolytes were imbalanced, she needed a blood transfusion for low hemoglobin, and she was extremely pale, clammy, and easily fatigued.

Some STATS: currently the difference in mortality rate for ovarian cancer from 3 rounds (9 weeks) of chemo to the full 6 rounds is roughly 2-5%... Doesn’t seem like much when you consider the damage and side effects those 9 extra weeks cause... but that extra percentage is still a better chance... If patients experience more side effects after the first weeks, the doctor will stop treatment after 3 rounds...

Mama Jo made it through 5 complete rounds of chemo. Her initial scans were clear and we just needed to wait a few months for more follow-up scans.

She did it.

And in the best fashion, with THE BEST attitude. She has always been a positive person. You can always count on her to cheer for you, encourage you, and love you deeply. If anyone could make it through the big C, it was her... and she did!

So here we are... in the middle of another wave of this COVID-19 pandemic, living in the San Joaquin Valley, where hospitals are overflowing, COVID cases have rapidly increased, and COVID related deaths...

Friday, December 18th, Mama Jo, got tested for COVID-19. She had been symptomatic for a few days prior and scheduled a test to confirm. Her symptoms were very typical to COVID: upset stomach, diarrhea, cough, shortness of breath, body aches, etc. Mama Jo also has a long history of terrible asthma that is routinely exacerbated by changes in season, allergens, poor valley air quality, and illness...

She was positive... COVID-19... another C.

She was at home and on a regimen of several asthma medications, steroids, and regular breathing treatments to decrease her symptoms. Her oncologist saw her diagnosis of COVID and suggested she go to the ER if she continued to have symptoms... which she did... and finally, via ambulance, went to the hospital.

And that is where she has been... through Christmas and New years... She has run through all the treatments, transferred facilities, undergone all the tests, a slew of infections secondary to COVID... and here we are.

Part of me feels angry... part of me feels numb.... I move through the day knowing that I have to...There is nothing I can do, but trust that she is in good hands...

Hello 2021.

I’ve been tested. SHE has been relentlessly tested... we’ve all been tested in some way, shape, or form... I’m so done... and in those dark moments, sometimes all I want to do is give up... throw my hands in the air and say “FINE! You win!”

... and then... after my inner turmoil has had its opportunity to cry it out... after the water has settled... things become more clear... my inner voice... that voice deep... DEEP inside that speaks to you, keeps you going, motivates you, and sometimes kicks your ass in gear... well... she says I will be okay...

I have been through some great awfuls... but life will continue on and I will be OKAY because if there is anything I’ve learned from my Mama, from my Mama Jo, from everyone I’ve ever looked up to and been inspired by... its that I CAN do anything and I am so much stronger than I ever fathomed.

Can... another C.

So this is me... just leveling with you all. So much has been taken... but if there is anything I’m going to hold onto... its my hope for the best, my love for all those I care about, and my determination to continue... another C...

She’s the real champ... “C” what I mean? ;)

Christmas 2018?

Easter 2019?

Thanksgiving 2019

Christmas 2019

Summer 2020

Mama Jo,

I know you can’t read this just yet, but I love you so much!

Love,

Your baby girl

Nisa

[heyiamawkward]

I’ve never really been one to post on here, mostly just read other people’s posts, but I recently got a diagnosis/ pre-diagnosis that has kinda upset my life quite a bit and was hoping to find a small community of people who are going through the same thing/ have gone through it. I’ve had stomachs problems for quite a long time but I was a attention seeking child so as I grew up I assumed pain I had was just in my head/not serious enough. I started having blood in my stool along with more constant cramps a few years ago (about 2 years) (also found out I’m anemic which I didn’t know could be related) and scheduled a conoloscoly my first year of college (which I ended up not doing because I couldn’t keep the prep for it down) and I kind of ignored the problems for about another year, until I was convinced recently that since it wasn’t getting better I needed to try that colonoscopy again, so I waited until I finished my second year of college (and right in the middle of a pandemic... yay) and I finally got my colonoscopy where my doctor told me she had never in her 30 years seen so many polyps especially in someone so young. They were all benign, so non cancerous. I got sent to another doctor who I thought was just gonna do surgery to remove all 200+ polyps from my colon but ended up telling be that it looks like I have Familial Adenomatous Polyposis and they will have to remove my colon and rectum (because my polyps are there as well apparently) and I get so much information in a short appointment that I don’t even remember it all. He said I could technically wait until I graduate college to get the surgery but if I do that I have about a 30% chance of cancer developing in that time frame. I’m going into my junior year of my political science degree and don’t want to put my degree on hold for this at all, though I don’t know if I’ll have that choice. I’m honestly terrified and if anyone on here who has that same disease and can reassure me at all? Or just give me some insight to what it’s all gonna look like? I think a lot of my fears right now are purely superficial worries, partly because I care about superficial things too much and partially because I don’t have a very good idea of what exactly I’m going to be going through enough to be worried. No one in my family has had this, or really any colon issues I know about. I have a procedure on Friday to look in my stomach for irregularities (I can’t remember specifics, so much was being told to me at one time), I have a genetic testing appointment on Monday, and two CTs and a ultrasound of my thyroid on Tuesday. So I haven’t scheduled my actual surgery yet.

[ravenwritesstuff]

Best Laid Plans (8/?)

Fandom: Frozen (modern AU, no magic) Pairings: Helsa, established Kristanna, Rapunzel/Eugene, lotsa frohana Rating: T for now, M later almost for sure A/N: I write what I want to write. Fuck. Someone take this away from me.

It had not exactly been World War Three, but it had not gone over lightly when Elsa realized exactly what Hans had managed to negotiate Rapunzel into allowing. Or not so much allowing as thinking it was the best idea - the only idea - Elsa’s idea - and that somehow she had authorized Rapunzel to clear Tuesday’s entire schedule.

Each appointment, call, and workflow had been reassigned to appropriate corresponding dates leaving the entire day clear for - well - him. What he wants, what his event calls for, and she more than slightly miffed that he still failed to truly explain just what his event - initiative - whatever - entails. 

But whatever the result - Elsa should have known better than to leave the trusting Rapunzel in the room with someone with the charisma and bravado of Hans Westergaard. 

Looking at the paperwork before her she is wondering just how much - well - bravado one man could have.

Staring at the zeros, written with Rapunzel’s trademark flair, on the intake form for the proposed budget is the only thing keeping Elsa from calling the entire thing off. 

That and the niggling curiosity in her chest that scares her as much as it intrigues her.

She is only just now starting to realize that it has been years since she really felt - well - anything. This has been by design, and she is entirely certain that it is a mistake to indulge this, but something in her just cannot walk away. 

Perhaps it is because she knows she is nearing the end of any kind of semblance of normal. That soon her life will be nothing more than phasing out of it between medical exams and palliative care. That when Anna gently presses her towards a different choice - though impossible - she secretly wishes for it. 

She looks at the forms, facts, and figures on her desk and wonders if somehow this is the silver lining in this entire thing.

Thirty-nine days. 

She has already started gradually removing herself from all main client contact roles, not wanting anyone to feel jilted if she needs to stop attending to their every call. Anna and even Rapunzel have stepped up to every other occasion, but this is her project. 

This one is on her. Well - that is if she is to get them to where the company needs to be before she - well - leaves. 

She pinches the bridge of her nose. 

Everything about this is wrong.

Everything about this is right.

Both realities cannot exist without shades of gray and it has been over a decade since she has thought in such muddied terms. Black and white is easier. It makes the inevitable easier to swallow. Things either are yes or no; up or down; simple or complicated; living or dying; but never both. 

That is, apparently, unless Hans Westergaard is involved. 

Her heart gives an unsettling, queer beat as she reviews the calendar and the schedule Rapunzel had built for them. She has read and re-read it for what feels like the eleventh time before she finally gives up.

No.

This will not be easy. This will not be ideal, but it will hopefully be what the company needs. 

She does not have time to give a second thought about what she needs. This is not the time or place. Especially when it is everything they have worked for. Especially when she will not be here much longer. 

She lets her damp head rest back against her very practical office chair and almost laughs at the ridiculousness of it all. She wonders if her condition is what is making her want to be reckless in this moment. The doctors had not mentioned that as a possibility, but then she is an anomaly.

She has already broken all the rules. 

Maybe that is why she has tried to follow them so strictly outside of her diagnosis. 

That is what one of her therapists had suggested anyway. She fired them before their third meeting. 

Or really she had just stopped going to prove a point.

She had ignored the calls from the office to reschedule missed appointments. She did not have time. She was not someone who was called to evolve into her highest self. She didn’t need to make peace with her diagnosis. It wouldn’t change it. So she chose to focus instead on what was right in front of her, on the here and now, while never really being in the moment. 

It is easier to ignore the inevitable if she doesn’t have it shoved in her face for an hour every week. 

She does not have time for that. She was not going to make it that far enough to make time for that.

So she moved on to a therapist who just listens, nods, and gives her what she needs for her nerves - her lack of sleep - her restlessness. 

She is not looking to be healed. She knows she is beyond that . Still: she opens her eyes and looks at the project before her and feels - for the first time in forever - a spark of something. 

She will never admit it, not even to herself, but the feeling in her chest is something all too similar to hope and she cannot have any of that. 

She pushes that sensation down and focuses on what she always has: the practical.

Like how in the hell is she supposed to prepare for a meeting she doesn’t want with a man she cannot afford to get close to when that is exactly what she must do?

She crosses her arms on the desk in front of her and plops her forehead down with a groan. 

She is going to regret this - already does. She supposes the only unanswered thing about this that matters is just how much she will regret this in the end.

….

She does not lose sleep over the event, the meeting. At least no more than she normally would before a big meeting. 

No.

She is too sensible for that (plus she took a sleeping pill at the absolute last minute before it would leave her sick and groggy the next day). She knows she needs to be sharp, well rested, and on high alert through this entire day. You don’t go into a battle without your wits fully in tact and she has been mentally girding herself ever since she gave Rapunzel the okay to send over the approval of terms and preliminary proposal with room for addendum. 

He sends back an address and a time, but not to Rapunzel’s email. He texts it to her personal phone again and Elsa is quickly realizing that fighting this particular part of this game will be a loss. She needs to laser focused on the battles that matter - the battle at hand. 

She is holding her armor tight as they all pull into the marina’s general parking lot in Anna’s car, trying to convince herself that her stomach is not in knots. Even though it is.

Her mind races with possibilities of what this day could entail, trying to plan for any outcome, but there are too many trajectories and not enough information. She can figure most likely scenarios but nothing so far has been most likely when it came to this entire situation so she must keep herself vigilant. She cannot let herself slip even a fraction of an inch or she knows she will regret it.

Mister Westergaard had told Rapunzel to clear the entire day - to make sure they came prepared for a day of sea and sun - and Elsa wasn’t quite sure how to take that. So she came in a sensible wrap dress in her traditional navy and flats. In her bag she also packed swim attire with a cover that could also double for any of her standard dresses. She is not taking any chances.

She had briefed her staff on the seriousness of this meeting - even though she did not need to. She knew they would exhibit absolute professionalism like they always did, but she also knows that Hans Westergaard is a different type of beast than their usual. Only the main staff comes: herself, Kristoff, Anna, Rapunzel, and Eugene. Pascal and Sven, interns, had stayed behind to man the office. Her trust in them was the only reason that she even considered leaving the office today with other projects on the line. She trusts them, but….

Still there were so many ways this could go wrong. 

Not because of her trust in them but more so the need to prove that she is not afraid of anything this Hans Westergaard can bring against her. 

She has the mounting dread of a feeling that she is not only building her own coffin, but nailing it shut.

Rapunzel could not elaborate on what may be considered appropriate for this all day meeting so she had the perky brunette call his contact number for clarification. He did not answer, but Elsa listened to the message  - but a single text from him to her personal phone (she really needs to get Rapunzel to stop giving out her personal number) gives her just enough foresight to warn them all to be prepared.

I hate spoiling surprises but come prepared to get wet.

He had texted with the address to the marina and a berth number. She had blushed at what she hoped was unintentional innuendo. 

In order to best serve you and keep your event professional please contact me on my office line only. 

She had replied with the contact that she knows he already has. But he had not used it and she has a feeling that he probably never will outside of that first call he made to her office, not when he knows where to find her in a way that feels just a little too close. A little too intimate. A little too raw. Just like that dance that never should have happen, never should have become two, never - 

She shakes her head, ears burning in embarrassment of how far she had let that go. She will not be making that mistake again. She can run this event, elevate her company, and stay unattached even if the butterflies in her stomach are working hard enough to lift her up off the ground at the moment. 

Her group does not seem to notice, however. Nor had any of them lifted an eyebrow when she had instructed them to dress expensive business casual but to also pack swim attire and accouterments. Perhaps it is because their destination includes the marina and a berth. She prefers to entertain that idea as opposed to the concept that they are placating her, giving her space, not asking questions because she seems fragile in any way. That is something she simply cannot abide. 

She should have had Rapunzel call, ask clarifying questions, taken control like she would have with any other client, but she had not. She had not and she is not prepared to follow through the logic that if she had failed to respond to this like she would for any other client that perhaps he is not just another - 

Elsa’s thoughts and steps slow as they approach their destination. 

She has been on boats. She has been on yachts. But if what she is looking at is the boat they will sail on that day - it takes everything within herself to not drop her jaw to the floor.

It does not look quite like any other ship she has seen. There are no sails or anything of the like, but there are three levels of windows curving along an immaculate white bough. The bow is almost needle shaped, long and contoured to an exact point beyond any cabin that gives it the looks of a swordfish, or dolphin, or any of those more majestic water bound creatures. The shape, the arch of the body, the way it rises from the water - it is exceptional from stem to stern. She can tell from the design that it is built to be large, and to show it.

This, she knows, is a ship built to impress people.

Did that mean Mister Westergaard was trying to impress them? Or maybe just intimidate.

Her sweaty palm tightens on the attache case containing their more formal documents, her heavy duty tablet.

She had finished them the day before after devoting the whole of her energy to them. She had them sent over by three but had not heard anything about the few gaps she needed filled before she felt comfortable moving forward formally. Perhaps he wants to negotiate in person. For the money he is willing to pay she is more than happy to go over everything in person, or at least she would be if he wasn’t completely capable of robbing her of almost every shred of common sense she possessed. 

But even if he had not signed anything yet, neither had she - her company. If this day proved too much, too disagreeable, there was nothing to keep up the facade.

Still she is sure that if she just focuses she can get what she needs from him and nothing else. The challenge of drawing up the proposition she had sent him, of rustling vendors and calling in favors, orchestrating a careful network of details and factors and creating the perfect documents for this event had given her a thrill. She knew he would not understand, appreciate, all it took to put together a proposal like this. How could he? He was a privileged son of a man of unimaginable wealth. He had no need to work, to strive, to fear. 

The initiative, or so he called it, seemed a pet project that the wealthy elite all had. His was ocean related and that made sense considering his love of sailing. Though Mister Westergaard had been short on details of exactly what this all entailed Elsa had still managed to come up with what she felt was a perfect framework for a successful soiree. It was fluid, adaptable, and when she got the rest of the details down in writing, allowing her to draw up the final paperwork  and followed by his signature… well. Just focusing on what that meant for her sister, their friends, the company was enough to put aside the tight braid of apprehension winding down her spine at the logistics of what that meant from a practical perspective. 

Once the ink dried that meant she would be bound to him for thirty eight days. Thirty eight days of closely working alongside him, communicating with him. If she is lucky he will be uninterested in attending vendor meetings, that he will trust her judgement and simply allow her to select what she feels is best as many of her clients do. After all - that is why they pay. They don't want to invest the time or effort into each minutia that came with an event of any size, but she thrived within it. Would she be able to do so with Hans Westergaard thrown into the mix?

But she'll think about that tomorrow. Right now all she can think about is putting one foot in front of the other until they are at the gangplank.

She isn’t sure when Anna comes up alongside her and loops an arm through hers, but she realizes it is there when Anna squeezes it with her own.

“You okay?” Her sister’s voice is low and Elsa gives a tense nod. 

“Of course,” she replies. “I’m - I’m just fine.” 

She stumbles a bit as Mister Westergaard appears at the top of the gangplank. He is in fitted khakis and boat shoes with a navy sweater pulled over a crisp collared shirt. His hair styled back with its natural wave and his smile broad as he waves them up from his place at the top of the long, metal-railed ramp. Anna’s grip tightens. 

“Come aboard!” He calls, keen green eyes flashing to each person in their party. Though she could not prove it she feels like his gaze lingers on her just a fraction longer than the others.

She quickly shakes the thought. 

Paranoia will not help her focus on her mission. 

She shrugs off Anna’s supporting arm. It will not do to seem like she needs help, that she is weak in any way. She pulls her shoulders up and back as she strides up the gangplank to meet their host.

“Mister Westergaard,” she crosses her attache case in front of her body, lasering into his gaze with more force than necessary. “Thank you for having us. We have many aspects of the event to cover. Should we get started?” 

His smile does not falter. 

“Of course we should,” he cradles her elbow (thankfully covered by the extra billowing length of her sleeve) to pivot her so the rest of her party can finish their ascent. “But first we need to attend the briefing from the crew. We will be pushing off soon.” 

He drops his touch as soon as he had started it, attention moving to Anna and the rest and leaving her flummoxed. Pushing off? She knows they are on a boat but that meant…

He continues without dropping a beat, addressing the whole of his guests. “We will be setting sail in the next ten minutes. The crew will brief you on the safety functions of the vessel on the aft.”

The group hesitates, at least slightly perplexed, and Elsa knows she is not the only one who not as apt at ship terminology as she might be. They weren’t the types to sail regularly, but Mister Westergaard seems to note his mistake with equal speed. His smile broadens as he gestures behind himself to the sleek walkway that edges the ship.

“You will have to excuse me. I’ve spent more time on ship than on land lately and developed certain habits. This way place,” and there is a silent, collective breath of relief at his gracious response.

Somewhere in the depth of her heart she cannot help but wonder if this was some sort of test that she had failed. Or if he had staged the entire thing to make himself seem like some sort of savior, like somehow he would deliver these Cretans to their designated location by his own benevolence and - 

“May I have the honor of escorting you?” he offers his arm and she flashes to the deeply slow stroll up the walk to the wedding venue. She remembers the heat of his touch, the conversation, and while she is not interested in actively offending him:

“The passageway is a bit narrow, don’t you think?” She keeps her tone professional, the butterflies in her stomach pressed down. “Why don’t you go ahead and lead us?”

His eyes flash and she is not quite sure what it means but he makes no moves to press the issue. Instead he lifts his gaze from her and addresses the entire group:

“Of course," his smile wolfish, like she just set the tone for the day - like he anticipated it. "This way. Follow me!”

They do.

Elsa lags a bit, letting Anna and Kristoff take the lead and falling back with Rapunzel and Eugene. In the middle of the pack she feels a bit more secure, a bit less like she is walking into a trap, but then he looks over his shoulder and winks at her and she is back to the wedding with sweating palms and shaking knees. 

She considers his smile, his heat, the curve of his brow and - no.

That was not why she was here. 

This is business, just business. She had made that clear, but as they reach where the walkway opens to a spectacular seating area complete with firepit all those zeroes on the proposal invoice she knows this is nothing like the business they have done up to this point. 

It doesn’t even feel like she is on a boat. 

There is plush furniture, all royal blue with stainless steel and arranged in a horseshoe that takes advantage of the ocean view. A marble and metal coffee table that she swears is as big as the kitchen in her studio apartment is decorated with a planter holding a dozen white iris in perfect bloom and a spread of finger foods that rival Tiana’s inventions. 

Her stomach cramps even as her mouth waters. She has hardly eaten, but given her inexperience on a boat she hardly thinks it prudent to indulge in case sea voyage doesn’t agree with her. 

She looks past the food and the seating arrangement she is certain they will fill briefly, out beyond the shadowed overhang of the upper deck they are beneath, and there are half a dozen white loungers surrounding a sunken pool. The railing alongside the ship falls off beyond the pool and at this angle she knows when they are at sea that it will seem as if the pool could continue right into the ocean, an endless pool of blue. 

The sight rattles something inside of her. The visual somehow mirrors an intangible understanding she has for what is about to happen. The idea that this may seem like it can go on forever but she knows that cannot be true. Nothing lasts forever.

Mister Westergaard ushers them to sit. She goes, noting the finely polished blonde wood planks beneath her feet. She positions herself at the end of one of the furniture pieces facing away from the unsettling infinity pool and looks up for her sister in hopes to have her sit beside her but she is not quick enough.

Mister Westergaard settles himself next to her just close enough to be disconcerting, but clearly with no room for anyone to sit between them. He isn’t touching, not even in the slightest. He doesn’t even look her way when he sits and that somehow makes it worse. His legs spread wide, his back straight as he leans forward onto his elbows as if he is ready to pounce on any unsuspecting passer, but not giving her the slightest attention.

She knows he is playing some sort of game, but he keeps changing the rules. She does not appreciate it and she pulls her case up onto her lap to insure the forced distance. Whatever he is playing she will not join. 

But she will set some rules of her own. 

She tries to not sit too straight, to lean too hard against her armrest away from him, to too obviously look anywhere but him as she takes in the surroundings. She tries to focus on the expectation that if this is the informal lounge area on his yacht just how lavish the expectations will be on this event. How there are only thirty eight days to pull off something even grander than this. How there cannot be any mistake. 

It simultaneously excites and terrifies her.

She thinks of all the connections this will yield, how it will catapult E&A Events into the stratosphere if they do it right. An event for people of this caliber is not a challenge to take on lightly but she knows she is up to the task. She is built for things like this, has set up E&A events for success long after she is gone if they decide to go on. This is simply the next step.  

Hans Westergaard is the next step.

It is easier to think of him in this way, so she does. 

Not more than a few seconds have passed since they say before a trim crew member appears from what she assumes to be a luxurious space inside, but is denied a glance by the reflective glass. The crewmember starts going through the basics of the ship’s safety protocol. Elsa remembers one of the few times she had been on a plane where the flight attendant had pointed with two fingers towards doors that Elsa hoped she would never use, but she had memorized every step regardless. 

It never hurt to be prepared.

As the crew demonstrates proper life vest procedures and what to do in case of some unprecedented catastrophe she feels him lean in closer. 

“If the ship went down, why do I feel like you wouldn’t flinch?” She can feel his breath tickling the shell of her ear.

She keeps her gaze focused on the crew, but turns just enough to send her words directly to him and not the rest of the group. “I won’t have to flinch. I’ll know what to do because I was able to pay attention to this presentation.”

He breathes a laugh. She feels it down her neck, entire body heating without objection. She doesn’t dare look to see if the others notice, if he is nearly as close as she thinks he may be. When he is silent for a moment she thinks that he might be done, that he has returned to an appropriate distance and she almost chances a glance. She is glad she does not because she feels it almost as much as she hears it:

“But what if you needed saving? Who would you want to come to your rescue?”

She is certain he is even closer than before now, the heat of his body bleeding into her side without even touching and she remembers what it is to touch him. She remembers how the very touch of him burns down her defenses, but what she hadn’t counted on were his words, the probing questions that always caught her off guard. 

Even though she hardly knows him she knows if she looks his way she will see that same heartfelt sincerity that has undone her from the start. 

She watches as a robotic crew member straps a lifesaver onto their chest. There is a flirtatious way to approach this, to stroke his ego, to make things go more smoothly but the stage has been set. She has no time to spare for such frivolity and honestly no idea how to even go about it. So instead she tightens her spine, pulls her jaw tight, and never once diverts her eyes towards him.

“I’m not the type that gets saved,” she speaks the language of strange half-truths she has grown accustomed to in her condition before letting the darkness bleed through. “I go down with the ship.”

She senses the change in him at that statement, the distance increasing between them even if he had not moved an inch, but there is no victory in it. There is only an all too familiar hollow feeling that she fights all too often.

Then, strangely despite the distance, she feels him closer still.

His shoulder touches hers and even through their respective clothes the heat of him creeps through. Her heart rate accelerates. She thought she had done her job but apparently… 

“I’d save you,” his voice is low, tight and tickling. “I’d save you if it was the last thing I did.” 

Her mouth goes dry at the conviction of his short speech, at the way her heart races at his words, but not because she is uncomfortable. No. It is worse than that. It is because she believes him - this near stranger. 

The crew member is saying something she is sure is important, but she cannot hear it. She cannot focus beyond her own breath filling her chest, rasping in her ear. She wants to trust those words, to lean into them, but she cannot. It would be unfair for them both. So with every last ounce of will that hadn’t been scorched by his proximity she musters her courage and:

“You cannot save me, Mister Westergaard.” 

The words taste bitter in her mouth without context, but she is certain the surprise she senses is real. 

It feels good to catch him off guard, to let him be off balance for once. She revels in it, but not for long.

He does not move a fraction. She would have felt it, known it, all of her senses heightened towards him. Still his next words break upon the shore of her mind with relentless regularity. 

“Hans,” there is something raw, low, in the way he speaks that nearly hurts. “My name is Hans, and when I save you that is what you will call me.”

[ previous ] [ next ]

[crows-murder]

ADHD Mac

oh yeah im doing this

there are two things im 100% about Angus MacGyver

1 he is a bi disaster

and 2 he has ADHD

before elementary school, no one really thought anything was out of the ordinary with Mac. his parents thought his hyperactivity and inability to focus well was normal for a toddler.

even if they got suspicious, Ellen got sick and she became a priority, not Mac’s odd behavior.

after Ellen MacGyver’s death, James couldn’t even look at his son, seeing his late wife in his blue eyes and blond hair, much less worry about his son’s attention problem that were increasingly frustrating the teachers.

Mac’s teachers in first grade aren’t too hard on him and his wandering attention and inability to sit still for too long since his mother had died recently.

they blame it on the trauma of losing a mother and dismiss it, though get more frustrated with Mac.

as early as second grade, Mac shows signs of having an exceptionally sharp mind, but his teachers are frustrated with him because he can’t seem to concentrate in class and struggles with his homework. Mac gets exceptional grades despite that.

his grades are so good the administration bumps him up two grades.

Mac starts fifth grade at 8, but it doesn’t get easier for him, or less frustrating.

he has occasional emotional outbursts, he’s always fidgeting, leaves a lot of tasks unfinished and has problems focusing. the other students find him weird on top of him having skipped two grades and he has no friends other than Bozer.

Mac works on his homework for hours, trying desperately to focus long enough to finish it, missing obvious details and getting reprimanded by the teachers.

his father becomes more secluded so Mac can’t ask him for help, and instead tries to force himself to study until his head hurts and the words swim around the paper like unintelligible squiggles.

Mac’s teachers complain about his poor organisation skills, unable to understand that this “mess” is Mac’s own version of organized.

Mac feels like no adult believes him when he says he can’t focus in class, that he couldn’t finish the homework, so he stops trying to convince them and instead takes it in.

he’s in sixth grade when his dad leaves for good, and it makes Mac’s already low self-esteem worse and wonders guiltily if James left because Mac struggled with simple tasks.

and so he works even harder, makes more efforts, tries harder.

it’s a real struggle that drives Mac’s frustration to tears many times, but it never feels like it’s enough. he still struggles working in group projects, he procrastinates, he loses track of time.

sometimes he can’t even physically bring himself to do his homework and ends up rushing it in the morning.

and of course, sometimes he gets lost in a personal project for hours on end without even realizing it.

Mac was always fidgeting, and started twisting up paperclips to keep his hands occupied and found that it helped focus his mind on the task ahead.

people thought he was distracted, but twisting paperclips meant that he was actually focusing much more easily.

as Mac grew older, he still couldn’t take criticism well. only Bozer really knew this, and even light criticism could make  his low self-esteem plummet.

this paired with Mac being often bored and under-stimulated (mainly in school) made Mac’s school experience difficult.

he graduates at 16 and goes straight to MIT where things slightly get better, feeling like some of the stress of grade school finally leaving him and giving him more room to breathe.

when his grandfather's call came, Mac was 18 and finally felt like things were going right.

he went to join the Army, hoping his history of lack of focus won’t hinder him much.

in Afghanistan, Mac is (usually) able to put all his focus on the IED and forget the world around.

the other soldiers think he’s just a really good EOD tech who can ignore the gunfire surprisingly well, but it’s actually because oh his hyper-focused brain.

when he and Jack are discharged and hired by DXS, Mac starts to suffer from secondary depression.

he finally goes to see a doctor who gives him his diagnosis and prescribes him antidepressants and suggests he sees a mental health professional.

Mac does and he gets diagnosed with ADHD and his prescribed ADHD medication and his doctor even suggests seeing a therapist.

despite Mac's hatred for pills, he still takes his antidepressants, but refuses to take the ADHD meds, refusing to be dependent on pills for the rest of his life.

he manages to keep it a secret from everyone, even Bozer.

but Mac decides a therapist would be helpful, and so he schedules a meeting.

and then he keeps going, every week.

therapy helps.

a lot.

though he felt like he was back to square one, like in school, feeling under-performing, but only this time with mild depression.

his therapist explains that the depression was caused by his brain being constantly under-stimulated, and of course war didn’t help.

over the months, Mac slowly gets better and feels like he’s finally moving forward, and talking to someone about a mental issue he never knew he had really helped him.

he feels guilty not telling anyone, but he isn’t ready to tell them yet.

months later, Mac decides to tell Bozer and sits him down and explains to his best friend how he was recently diagnosed with ADHD (Bozer told him it explained a lot) and mild depression because of it

Bozer understood and respected Mac’s wish to keep it under wraps and tells him that if Mac needed anything, he could always (always) come to Bozer. Mac felt even more grateful for his best friend (I love their friendship oh wow--)

no one but Bozer knew for a long time.

it wasn’t even added to his file, so not even Patti (later Matty) or Oversight (screw him anyways) knew.

after fifteen months on antidepressants Mac’s therapist decides he could come off the medication.

the withdrawal is… rough

but Mac refused to take any days off (despite what his doctor said), lest he roused suspicion.

Mac just powered through the intense stomach cramps, sweating, shivering and nausea as best as he could.

Jack was suspicious, but Mac assured him it was just a stomach bug, and Jack let it be since he could see no physical wounds that could cause this.

Mac’s withdrawal lasted a little over three weeks, and Bozer was trying to be there for his best friend as best as he could.

Mac would sleep in fits, threw up every other night and couldn’t stand eating or even looking at anything salty or sweet

when Mac started to get better, looking and feeling more healthy, Bozer took him out to one of the best restaurants in LA as a way to celebrate and made Mac pancakes for breakfast all week.

Mac told him it was entirely unnecessary, but Bozer cut him off by telling him that if someone could beat depression, it was worth celebrating.

it effectively shut Mac up and made him wonder for the thousandth time how he was lucky enough to meet someone like Bozer.

for the whole week, Mac is in a much happier and brighter mood than he’d been in in a long time.

it took everyone by surprise and caused Jack to ask if he was okay. Mac had just smiled and said that he’d never been better.

Bozer was just glad to see Mac act the way he used to when they were still in grade school. he missed this version of Mac.

Matty being Matty found out bout Mac’s therapy sessions and his antidepressant prescription and ADHD diagnosis and asks him about it (more worried about his well-being than his performance in the field)

Mac apologizes for keeping it a secret but told her that he’d gotten off the antidepressants months ago (to Matty’s relief) and that the ADHD was nothing to worry about.

Mac knows that he won’t be able to keep his therapy sessions and ADHD a secret from everyone forever, but still doesn’t feel ready to tell anyone.

Mac told them one by one, all at different times

he told Jack first, who was concerned for his partner but couldn’t bring himself to be mad at Mac for keeping it to himself.

telling Riley and Cage took a while, but he finally got it out, and felt relieved that he didn’t have to keep it a secret anymore.

after season 3, when Mac gets reinstated, his first order of business is to schedule an appointment with a therapist (Nigerian villages, as it turned out, don’t have therapy clinics)

James MacGyver tries to be the dad he hasn’t been to Mac since he was five, but missed a lot and doesn’t believe his son’s claim to have ADHD.

it destabilizes Mac’s firm belief in the diagnosis and sends him spiraling

Matty is not happy.

you do not want Matty to not be happy with you

whether or not you’re her boss.

she and James have a heated discussion when James says he wants to remove Mac’s ADHD from his personal file.

let’s just say Mac’s mental health is something no one talks about unless they want to really go at it with James.

and Mac tells them to drop it. he doesn’t have to listen to his father’s opinions (as he is an adult himself) and doesn’t want anyone fired on his behalf.

idk if it’s just me really liking the idea of Mac seeing a therapist (boy needs it)

or just thinking that it would explain a lot about Mac (his habit of playing with paperclips, his hyper-focus, etc...)

but i like the idea of ADHD Mac.

also it would make a lot of sense idk

[rowanfoster]

{ odeya rush ♔ twenty-three ♔ she/her } well, well, well if it isn’t rowan foster running around peach hollow. legend has it, she comes from tangerine towers and has lived here her entire life. if you’re wondering what she’s been up to, i hear she’s a make up artist / freelance musician for a living. she has been known to be impulsive yet insightful. a word of advice to her, always look over your shoulder. you never know who is watching.

why yes, it is i, admin kim, with another character that should’ve been kept in the drafts of my mind. if you’ve not met daysia or serenity, here’s a lil low down on me. i’m 26, i use she/her pronouns, and live on the east coast. i thrive on writing angst and my animal crossing villagers being happy. also caffeine. i luv chris klemens. most likely to have a mental breakdown on twitter. meet rowan! trigger warnings for mental illness, bipolar disorder specifically, and inpatient treatment

have a playlist and a pinterest board dedicated to her

rowan celeste foster was born may 27th, 1996. she’s the oldest of two, a baby sister coming to the scene in 1999.

her family is extremely close. they’ve been in peach hollow their whole lives. she grew up in a crowded house on blueberry boulevard, crammed in with her mother, father, sister, maternal grandmother and maternal grandfather. rowan never knew peace or privacy growing up – it just wasn’t possible with that many people which has really contributed to her somewhat isolated adulthood

her mother is a charge nurse at peach hollow general, working on the emergency room floor. her father is a retired car salesman. her grandparents moved into the house when her sister was born in order to help take care of the girls while their parents worked full time. rowan is especially grateful for their care, because she feels like she’d be a little more sour had she been raised by absent parents.

growing up, she shared a room with her younger sister. they told each other everything because they had no choice not to. they both developed an interest in make up and music at very young ages, but rowan particularly took to those things while maci took more interest in sports. when rowan was gifted her first ukulele at age 6, maci got her first basketball. they are polar opposites, but maci was the only person rowan really confided in as a child and an adolescent.

she’d always been rather moody. tantrums and fits were nearly unavoidable. her self esteem lacked before she even had a chance to develop any confidence. she was always the try hard, the girl who stood out because she was just a little different, the emotional one, the one the other kids didn’t want to mess with, not because she’d fight back, but because she would absolutely lose it. there were countless times where rowan ended up in the guidance counselor’s office, waiting on her grandmother to show up and bring her home. that was the beginning of their problems.

her mental health really started to decline in her mid teenage years. she spent hours upon hours in her room, writing songs, playing guitar, practicing make up looks – she’d go days without sleeping and snap at anyone who crossed her path. she got into screaming matches with everyone in the house, only to find herself crying in her bed for the next few days. she started missing days at a time from school, while her artistry thrive, the rest of her crumbled. her grades, all of it.

eventually, this resulted in her parents yanking her out of peach hollow high and putting her in counseling, which lead her to a psychiatrist and a diagnosis of bipolar disorder at the age of 17. while it made sense, she dreaded taking the medications. they numbed everything. her writing suffered, and while her moods weren’t swinging from the trees anymore, she feared that this empty feeling was worse.

she finished her high school diploma in homeschooling with her grandmother while maci went on to thrive in school. the attention shifted to her, and rowan couldn’t really blame them. she turned 18 and started performing in clubs, bars, and anywhere she could get in. ps her voice is a mix of bishop briggs & mary lambert. the thrill of performing to small crowds sucked her in. she began to gain an even smaller following on social media, mainly the locals following her. every once in a while she’ll book a show in atlanta and she’ll make the long drive just to sing in front of a bit of a larger crowd. she’ll gain a few followers from those shows, but this still isn’t her main source of income.

most of her money comes from the make up artistry she does through pop of peach. she doesn’t go in every day, but when someone has an event scheduled or needs their make up done for a dance or something, she’s there. she tries to spread things out bc she’s always late lmao and finds it hard to stick to a schedule

she was doing so well for a few years, even moved out of her parents’ house and into an apartment at the towers. that’s where she really found herself, made some real friends and built relationships that were good for her. however, she missed a few doctor’s appointments and was discharged from her psychiatrist’s office. she went off meds, and for a few weeks it was fine. when she ran out of meds, the next few weeks were okay as well. it was when every single drop of medication had drained from her body that things got bad.

rowan was missing appointments she scheduled at pop of peach. she was spending far too much time out at nights, giving in to alcohol for the most part. she tried not to touch any drugs, but drinking became a nightly thing. she’d perform, then spend the rest of the night partying with whoever she could find at the venue.

one night in atlanta after a particularly shaky performance, rowan found herself in a dark place and simply went into the women’s bathroom to calm down, but police say they found her laying flat on the ground, refusing to respond to anyone. she vaguely remembers the end of the manic episode, but it did land her in the emergency room for a change in mental status.

much to her chagrin, they admitted her overnight before transporting her to skyland trail, a mental health facility in atlanta. she spend about two and a half months there getting medications regulated and learning new coping mechanisms. she was discharged about two weeks ago and finally made it back to peach hollow and her apartment.

she’d lead everyone other than her family and maybe one or two other people that she was away on a musician’s retreat, but really, was in inpatient treatment.

she’s currently working full time as a make up artist at pop of peach and performing when she can, but doesn’t really go outside of peach hollow

fun facts & personality

rowan despises small talk. conversations about the weather or political climate don’t stimulate her and she gets snarky pretty easily. it isn’t that she wants to come off rude or unapproachable, but nine times out of ten, small talk is fake and she feels as though she doesn’t have the time or energy to indulge in it. ask her about the sky or some shit. she won’t shut up

she has a tendency to overshare,  aside from what’s been going on in the past few months. her lips are sealed tight about that. however, she’s open to talking about her mental health and is a big advocate for erasing the stigma. this makes rowan a very good listener and a huge supportive presence for anyone struggling. she’s the mom friend, and no matter what time of day or night, if someone says they need an ear, she’ll go to them. she knows what it’s like to be alone.

despite her past and her demons, rowan finds a way to put on a smile. it might often be snarky or sarcastic, but rarely is it insincere. she’s an empath and feels everything so very deeply, but can easily put it away when necessarily.

her apartment is her safe haven. she rarely has company. it isn’t really her thing. she prefers to go to other people’s places. she has her record collection proudly displayed on her living room wall, all the plants you can imagine, incense burning whenever she’s home, and a scottish fold munchkin cat named loonette after her favorite childhood tv show, the big comfy couch. she has hopes to get another cat named molly to match. you know, because we’re all clowns !

she takes great pride in her instagram. it sounds superficial, but often times, rowan will post a good picture and then link to her next show in hopes that somebody will come based on that. while she does have a passion for make up and a second instagram for it, ultimately, she’d like for there to come a time where she can live solely on the money she makes through music

catch her driving her old ass ford focus blaring 00s alternative, mainly fuckin paramore bc she’s heart eyes for hayley williams

wanted connections if ya made it this far!!!!

childhood friends – those who she’s known since elementary school. they’ve most likely watched her go through her many trials and tribulations in class. these could be acquaintances, close friends, or even a ride or die or two.

bullies – people who fucked with her through school. it’s essential that they’re on bad terms currently, but perhaps an enemy turned friend or romantic could be fun??

group therapy pal – this would be super fun and might entail the person finding out about her secret…. msg me for deets

exes – there will be a couple of these, gender does not matter. i’d like to find one that she was dating when she went into treatment and maybe hasn’t seen/spoken to them since they’ve been back, first love, high school sweetheart?? omg possibilities are endless

flirtationship – self explanatory, gender doesn’t matter she’s pan

any other ideas literally lmk!! thanks for reading ♥

[fancyharry]

third time’s a charm

hello! this is a little prequel to my niall series “Mother’s Day”, which you can read here!

I am planning to write some more about this little universe, and would love to hear feedback and some more concepts that you come up with! i’m so glad I felt mentally better to finish a piece of work and I'm so excited to share this little world with you all :) Enjoy!!

word count: 3k

trigger warning: miscarriage, grief, loss.

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

The warmth of the mild June morning seeps through your skin as you stretch out in bed. You have plenty of room, given that it’s gone eleven o’clock and so your husband will already be halfway around the local golf course with his mates from the pub. He has pulled back the curtains already, knowing how fond you are of waking up in a warm glow with the sun beaming down on you. Sitting up, you smile, gazing out of the nearby window to the somewhat never-ending countryside, seeing grassy hills, lochs, and farms in the not-so-distant landscape.

The peace of the surrounding nature was just one of the reasons you love living here - another being the freedom to do as you liked, as you and Niall are simply locals and nothing more to the people in this little village you now call home. You purchased the house 3 years ago and now, fully decorated, there’s no place you’d rather live with Niall in the whole world. 

Usually, you’d be able to relax, or tidy the kitchen from the night before, perhaps even sit outside to soak up some of the glorious sun. But no. Today, circled on the calendar in a bright red ink it is noted that you have a doctors appointment. Meaning that you have to leave your cosy little haven and discuss your health. Something, as of late, you’ve been keeping an eye on. 

While this was just a regular three month check up, you know that the words which still weigh you down so heavily, are bound to be mentioned - loss, grief, miscarriage. Even the soft and caring “so how are you doing?” was going to be tough to get through. Despite your recent troubles, your doctor has remained good natured and kind during your appointments. She respects you and your situation, and has been of great assistance medically and emotionally in the past year or so. You don’t mind the company, but rather dread the conversation awaiting you.

                                                            oOo

You head out the door after making minimal effort to look better than you did earlier. What need was there to get dressed up when were just going to go to the doctors, come home, and cry? As per usual. You would laugh at the routine you’d accidentally twisted yourself into, but it’s hardly a laughing matter when your husband has to console you for the rest of the week.

Your appointment is 12.30 sharp, and you’re ten minutes early, focusing on the list you’d written in haste a few days prior which had been stuffed into your jacket pocket. It was easier to bring up your list of concerns to the doctor, if it meant you didn’t have to talk about them. This month? Feeling faint, headaches, little energy, irregular periods. All part of the grieving process, maybe.

Maybe not.

“Y/N Horan?” you hear your name called, and tuck the list away back into your pocket before standing, smiling briefly as you follow the doctor through to her office.

“Hi there Y/N...no Niall today?”

“No he...he’s out this morning. He doesn’t know, doesn’t like to check the calendar any more than once or twice a month so...it’s just me” you admit. You didn’t need Niall cancelling his plans and getting uptight and worried about you. It’s better this way, you reckon.

“Well then, it’s your appointment and this of course is all confidential. I hope he is still being supportive?” She speaks calmly, but with a hint of speculation in her tone.

“Yes! Absolutely. He’s great. Just wanted to do this myself. He had plans this morning and I’ve been doing better so...” you tail off, wondering how on earth you will handle this when you return home. You halt that thought with a quick smile directed at the woman sitting opposite you at her desk. “Yeah. He’s the best.”

And he is. Through the last year he’s been nothing but heaven-sent. Holding you close, making sure you rest, eat, and get out of bed on those days that just seemed too hard. You know how much he has suffered too and yet he’d been your rock.

You know that he’s cried at night while he thinks you’re asleep.

Losing one child in the early stages of pregnancy had been bad enough. You’d taken so many tests which had turned out negative, until one finally stated “positive” and “3 weeks”. You only carried that baby for two more weeks before you lost them. You’d cried, he had cried, you took a break from trying, praying that you would heal together and that next time you’d be luckier.

And barely 5 months later you fell pregnant again. You’d thought you were out in the clear at 7 weeks, getting ready to start telling your closest family and friends. 

However, instead of calling people to tell them the good news, an ambulance was called, and your bloodied bedsheets were thrown out. In the space of 6 months you’d lost two babies. Two tiny baby Horan’s, who you had promised to give the world to. Both ripped from you in some sick twist of fate. 

It wasn’t fair.

“Well good!” Your doctor chirps, dragging your from your thoughts. “I’m glad. It seems you have a great support system at home. Now, are there any queries you-”

“Yes!” you blurt out, before cringing at your own eagerness. You fumble with your list before handing it over. She reads it, taking her time to smooth out the crinkled paper and thinking over every possible symptom and diagnosis she can make from what you’ve written. For you, the silence in the room is deafening.

“Okay...so from this, there’s a couple of tests i’d like to run...would that be alright? I could always schedule you in for another t-”

You stop her again in her tracks. “Now is good. Whatever needs done, I can do it now.”

                                                           oOo

You take 3 different types of tests, each taking only a few minutes to register results. The thought that whatever is wrong with you is so tangible and potentially serious that your doctor asks for you to take three tests right then and there, is doing nothing for your nerves. You’re sitting alone in the office as the doctor prints through the results, and you wish - for the first time since you first sat in the waiting room - that you’d at least told Niall. And just maybe, that you’d brought him here, too. He always knew how to make you feel better, safe, and calm, even if he was facing the same outcome.

Your thoughts are interrupted as your doctor walks into the room - luckily with a smile.

“Well, one positive result came up for you”

Your heart just about stops with her news. Positive? A diagnosis about something today? Right now? 

Without Niall?

“Oh”, is all you can muster up the courage to say “oh, right”.

“Well I know we spoke earlier and you gave me that list to look through...I thought one of the samples you gave could be used for a pregnancy test.”

Okay, now you really needed Niall here.

The doctor evaluates your reaction and pauses. She shuffles her chair closer and smiles, a true genuine smile. It almost makes you feel better.

“Y/N, you said something about having irregular periods, a couple of near-fainting spells...I wanted to double check just to rule it out but the pregnancy test...it came back positive. I believe that you've just been spotting a little, and you’re not getting the right vitamins you need.”

After hearing the word “positive” you’ve gone blank. You don’t hear much else. It’s the third time you’ve heard this news, yet you’re childless. You swallow back a mix of saliva and bile as it rises in your throat.

“it says you’re between 7 and 8 weeks. I think it’s important we discuss this.”

                                                           oOo

Heading home, you clutch the steering wheel, trying to ignore the small pile of paper on the passenger seat in your peripheral vision. Pregnant. Well, you hadn't seen that coming. And your husband definitely won’t either. Your mind is between driving, and wondering how on earth you’ll do this, how you’ll prepare, how you’ll even go about telling Niall because you know the moment you see his face, you’ll break.

It’s a long 15 minutes home. The radio is muted, while the country landscape provides some form of comfort blanket as you worry through each scenario racing through your mind. It’s only 2pm, but you just want to go to bed and sleep away the fogginess of whatever hallucination you're living in. Dream it away and wake up to clearer skies and a sense of understanding.

You roll up the driveway, right next to Niall’s land-rover. You remember when he bought it, not even needing much of the car salesman’s persuasion; “it’s perfect for rural areas, plus big enough to take up to 7 people. Can also fit in any size of child carrier, which we also stock.”

Niall was sold, and at the time, so were you. Now you just see the car and its emptiness. Even if you filled the back seats with shopping or luggage, there was only just the two of you travelling. Well, maybe three now.

                                                          oOo

Stepping into the house, you can’t help but already feel your eyes start to brim with tears. Your favourite candle is burning, and you can faintly hear music from down the hallway, coming from Niall’s home studio. You didn’t even mind that it was only 70% soundproof - his talent was unfathomable and you enjoyed listening to him create music as if he was pulling the melodies and chords straight from the sun and stars above.

You shuffle your shoes off, heading over to the studio just to be near him for a moment - just before you fully break. You want to remember him like this; not knowing. Not worrying.

He has headphones on and is scribbling words and chord progressions down. Whether it comes to fruition or not, he thrives on the process. He bashes out a few more chords while you go to take off your coat and move away from the door, when he looks up through a sliver of the window in the door.

He’s surprised, to say the least. Of course, given that he hadn't seen you all day, he’s delighted that he’s finally able to embrace you and spend the rest of his day with his favourite person.

Niall had in fact, been a bit worried when he arrived home to see that you had left in the car. Nevertheless, he decided that spending time in the studio would ease his mind. He’d also been entertaining the possibility of having a pet, a new life inhabiting the beautiful 4 bedroom home you lived in. A puppy, he was thinking - or a kitten if it’s what you’d want instead. He just wants you to be happy, knowing that your true purpose in life is to care for others. It hurts him that you’re barely managing to care for yourself, and that he hasn't been able to give you a child, a little love created by the two of you. 

“There’s m’lover, where ya been?” he opens the door and steps out just in joggers and a casual t-shirt. His eyes are pure sunshine, his embrace warm, open, and loving, until he sees you’re trying to hold back tears. In an instant, his eyebrows furrow as his face deepens with worry. His embrace is softer, kinder, now afraid that one wrong word and he’ll have lost you for the rest of the day. 

Tentatively, he whispers, stepping much closer to you.

“...What’s happened? hey c'mere”

You can only shake your head silently as the overwhelming mixed emotions build up, and so he pulls you in even closer, hoping that it will make things even a little bit better. You can’t be in his arms for long though, and he realises as you weaken against him. The sofa in the studio is already pulled out and he makes sure you're stable enough to sit you there, before kneeling before you.

“you need to sit, Ni. Please, for me.” And this time it’s not just for the sake of his bad knee.

So he sits, taking your hand to hold, rubbing your thumb with his as he faces you waiting for you to stop nervously biting your lip. 

“Baby c’mon, you’re scarin’ me...” Niall prompts you, his own voice shaking now as you both wait for you to get your words out properly.

“I was at the doctors Ni...I, somehow I, I know we weren’t trying but....I’m pregnant” 

Your breath is now held, time ticking by so slowly it feels, as you sit there waiting for his reaction. The wind had most certainly been knocked out of you when you were told. The terrifying prospect of having another chance after the trauma of losing two in just a few months prior, is extremely daunting, and causes for a true silence to be better able to come to terms with the news.

“And i’m scared, we stopped trying because we can’t lose another one...not again.” Your voice breaks as you finally let the tears fall. 

The whole time, he’s been frozen still, his mouth parted slightly and blinking every few moments when another stream of information floods his brain with possibilities - both positive and negative. He can’t quite believe it, all this news coming to him at once leaves him utterly speechless. He’s surprised, not only that you went to the doctors office alone, but that you’re expecting his baby, too. 

He finally breaks the dam of deafening silence as he sees you cry. Your words had previously been muffled in his head ever since you had said “pregnant” when his mind began racing a mile a minute. But now you’re in front of him, crying, and scared of losing yet another baby, something that has broken you twice before, back when he world felt against the two of you and when soft touches and intimacy were coated with what-ifs, and an unmistakeable tension between the two of you.

You weren't sure you could face that for a third time.

“Darlin’, oh darlin’ it’ll be okay...” he comforts you, immediately by your side and holding you close “Did the doctor say the baby was healthy?” 

Seeing you nod through your tears was enough for him, his face lighting up as you confirm that you’re growing a healthy baby.

“Yeah?” he smiles softly “Please don’t cry. I can’t see ya like this. Can’t see the mother of m’child like this...we’re gonna be parents” and in his wonderful charming way, he’s finally able to get a small smile from you. He squeezes you and kisses your temple as he sees this. “This is gonna be it, I can feel it. We deserve this. S’gonna be alright this time. M’gonna look after ya.”

“But what if it’s not alright again Ni..I can’t lose a third...I can’t put us through that again...what if I can’t carry a baby full term and I only ever get to be 8 weeks along! I-” You burst out, confirming Niall’s thoughts that the pressure of a healthy pregnancy was weighing you down already, your past already threatening you with the worst before you even get to envision the best. He’s about to console you further, explaining that you’re just early, you can take it slow, and he’ll be there for you regardless, as he promised when he married you all those years ago.

It’s not until you say 8 weeks, that he halts his words before he’s even begun, and his mouth falls open in surprise.

“8 weeks...8?! Already?! You’ve definitely had a drink or two love, and we’re not exactly tame in the bedroom...’v’never made it this far before...does it not make ya think....that this one is already so strong?” Niall reasons with you, tenderly. Your tears have run down your cheeks and your face remains red and slightly puffy but for now, you’ve stopped crying, considering his words carefully.

“Yeah i guess..it’s just terrifying Ni, I can’t-” you start off strong, but continue your thoughts with your head bowed in shame, whispering “it’s like I’m scared to love them...’

He shushes you, heartbroken that you feel even the tiniest bit of doubt that this time, it won’t happen. That this is just another set up for a certain loss. He kisses your temple, his arm wrapped around your waist protectively.

“Whatever happens, we have each other. we’ll do what we have to do. But ya gotta know that i’m gonna start loving on this baby from this very moment, ‘cause i know we’ve got a little fighter in there.”

And he means it. He intends to keep that spark of hope alive for the both of you until you feel like perhaps there is a happy ending, and that the third time is the charm after all. He takes you upstairs after he’s able to lift your spirits, the studio soon filled with soft laughter and so much love. When you go to order some dinner, he absolutely insists on you making an appointment to see the baby. 

He’s with you through all of your fears as you candidly discuss them together that evening. It’s something that your doctor had recommended, and it means that you’re both on the same page. He can soothe your worries, and you get to tell him everything you know about the baby. It makes it much more real and far less scary when you look at things together. 

                                                          oOo

You head to bed together that night. He’s soothed almost every little worry you have for hours and in turn, he’s now an expert on the tiny little love inside you. 

“Gonna get ya some vitamins tomorrow. Gotta keep ya strength up for this little lover” Niall whispers in the darkness of the bedroom. 

“Little lover is a cute nickname,” you muster up the courage to hope and dream, “we can write that on their crib, too.’

Niall grins.

The curtains are shut as you both lay there, talking about all the possibilities you have now as three. He’s pressed against you in the middle of the bed, his hand with his wedding ring on your barely-there belly. You feel safe, comfortable, and most surprisingly of all, excited. The love between you and Niall in this very moment is tangible and deeper than you could’ve ever imagined. 

You may be in the same room as you woke up anxious and alone in that morning, but here, now, in that very place, you realise that home is a person, not a place.

[wheelchair-punk]

when i was eighteen i got sick, and i never got better

i was a freshman in my first semester of undergrad, starry-eyed and thrilled to be enrolled in real actual college. i’d never had any significant health issues before; nothing more than bruises, bumps, and mild colds. then, when i was home on fall break, i got sick.

at first i thought it was just a typical flu. even when i fainted in the airport on the way back to college, even when i became too weak to walk more than five or ten feet, i chalked it up to a particularly bad viral strain. but as the days turned into weeks and i didn’t recover, i started to realize something was really, really wrong.

my symptoms didn’t stay the same. at first, it was just a cough, a runny nose, a sore throat-- all the normal flu stuff. eventually, those faded, and were replaced by much more debilitating symptoms. i slowly became weaker and weaker. when i sat up, my vision swam, and i became incredibly dizzy. i could feel my heart pounding in my throat. everything ached, and i was more tired than i had ever been in my life. even after fourteen, fifteen, sixteen hours of sleep, i could barely keep my eyes open. when i tried to walk, i immediately fainted. in those first few weeks i sustained countless mild concussions as i stubbornly tried again and again to walk to the dining hall, to class, to the bathroom, only to come to on the floor with a throbbing lump on the back of my head.

as you can probably imagine, this made it nigh impossible to get to class. my grades plummeted. eventually, i just gave up. i don’t remember how long i spent laying in my bed, relying on my roommate to bring me food, barely managing to stumble to the bathroom. it felt like months. i lived in a haze of fatigue and confusion, not understanding what was wrong with me, not understanding why i wasn’t getting better.

obviously, i tried going to the doctor. one of my friends drove me to the clinic on campus, and supported me as i stumbled inside, swaying like a drunk person. i explained my symptoms to the doctor, detailing the debilitating fatigue, the body aches, the racing heart, the fainting six or seven times a day. he raised an eyebrow and took my heart rate (which was extremely elevated), and my blood pressure (which was abysmally low).

then he told me to try breathing into a paper bag and to schedule an appointment with a therapist. he told me it was just anxiety and shooed me out of his office.

i went back to my dorm, confused and frustrated. i could barely stand up, and this doctor was telling me it was all in my head. i knew what anxiety felt like. i’d had panic attacks before. i had a long history of anxiety disorders. this was not anxiety. but i trusted his medical expertise, so i tried to just ignore it and go on with my life.

not long after that appointment, a club i had been active in before i got sick took a field trip to the renaissance fair. i desperately wanted to go, and decided to power through my mysterious and unexplained symptoms and try to just have a good time with my friends.

long story short, i ended the day in the emergency room.

the doctors there established that i was not dying and, even though i was unable to walk or feel my limbs or sit up without gasping for air and sobbing with chest pain, they discharged me and referred me to a local psychologist.

a few days later, i was once more having severe chest pains and shortness of breath. it was the worst pain i had ever experienced, and i curled up in my bed, wailing and gasping. i didn’t want to go to the emergency room, but my roommate dragging me there, convinced i was having a heart attack. once again, i was discharged and told it was all in my head, though this time they humored me and wrote me a referral to a cardiologist.

in between the last emergency room visit and my appointment with the cardiologist, i stumbled across a story on tumblr about a woman with something called Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, or POTS. it wasn’t a very long post, but the symptoms were familiar, so i did some googling. lo and behold-- fainting, chest pain, fatigue, shortness of breath, heart palpitations, flu-like aches and dizziness were all listed as symptoms. when i saw the cardiologist i brought it up, and he agreed that it sounded like that was what i had.

i went through a few more doctors and many more tests-- i was poked, prodded, scanned, stabbed, electrocuted (yes, electrocuted), and finally strapped to a tilt table and had my heart rate and blood pressure measured when i was laying down and when i was held upright. my blood pressure dropped, and my heart rate skyrocketed. finally, i had a diagnosis of POTS.

i had very clear, measurable physiological symptoms and it still took me months to get properly diagnosed. and i was lucky-- many people wait years. this is absolutely unacceptable. we deserve better. i deserved better.

anyways, i’m sharing my story in the hopes that someone else will read it and recognize themselves. maybe it will bring someone one step closer to a diagnosis, the way finding a similar story on tumblr helped me get diagnosed. maybe it’ll just be a mildly interesting anecdote. either way, i’ve rambled on long enough, so i’m going to wrap this up here. thank you for reading, and i wish you good health and understanding doctors.  <3

[actuallyvady]

Life update: 

I’ve been at my job since the beginning of January. I became eligible for health insurance in April, but I was exceedingly busy sewing All the Things for the BTS concert and missed the window to enroll. Fortunately, I caught the open-enrollment window in August, and have actually had real insurance since September. 

Today I called behavioral health and made an appointment to see someone about medication. 

Unlike the last half dozen times, it’s not for my depression/mood disorder. That, thankfully, has been manageable-- I’m fairly sure having a consistent schedule and not having to worry about money has done me more good than medication without those things, lol. Plus all the years of therapy giving me tools to help. That’s good, too. Not that there’s anything wrong with medication-- I’ve just been off it for a good two years or so and haven’t had any really bad depressive episodes since I started this job. 

(It occurs to me that part of that is lack of stress, and that, should things go the way I am hoping they will, that might change. For now, though, I’m doing alright.) 

What has actually been bothering me lately is the severe executive dysfunction issues that plague me. So often, I get home from work and just... zone out for a few hours before bed. I have things to do. I can sit at my computer and tell myself “okay, I need to get up and go clean/do laundry/sew/whatever” but can’t actually get anything done. And while that doesn’t impact my ability to go to work, it is stopping me from moving forward. 

So I’m going to talk to someone about treatment for ADHD. I’ve had a diagnosis for nearly three years now. Back then, my doc put me on wellbutrin. She said that while it is an antidepressant, it is also good for focus, and preferred that I try something other than a stimulant first. I am, sadly, not seeing that doctor anymore-- though I found out today that I could, if I wanted to drive 30 minutes out of my way, and tbh I might if I don’t like the person I’ve got an appointment with-- but while I did notice some improvement on the wellbutrin, I do not think it was effective enough.

I’ve been talking with some friends who are taking adderall. I think it might be worth trying. I am, I admit, a little wary of it. This is the first time I’m considering a medication that is actually, like, something where they talk about addiction and substance abuse and tbh, I’m a little concerned about whether that’s something I need to worry about? Also I have had medication-induced (hypo)manic phases before, and I have read that adderall is one of those things where you have to worry about that. 

But I’m so tired of having grand plans for my free time and having no mental capacity to follow through on them. I want to be working on stuff. I really do. And it’s not that I’m tired? Like I can hang out with friends all evening, I don’t go to bed particularly early. My brain just does not want to function after work. And work isn’t particularly mentally taxing, I shouldn’t be so drained at the end of the working day. I hate it. I can’t live like this long term. 

... which is why I have an appointment next month. I’m actually feeling generally positive about it? Just a little nervous, but happy that I finally did something. 

[learningtobreathe2019]

Post 1, Birth and Diagnosis, 2/8/2020

          Greetings and welcome to the Learning to Breathe Blog, I am the creator and moderator, Michael Krystallis. This blog is being created to, and is dedicated to, spreading awareness for those with invisible diseases and disabilities, specifically to my infant son who was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis at just 3 weeks old. My plan is for this blog to be relevant and engaging to all who either have loved ones with “invisible diseases” or have no clue what the term even means. I wanted to create this blog so that it may serve as a resource to others whom may be affected emotionally, physically or spiritually by an invisible disease or disability. Personally I hope this blog reaches others and helps others see what life is like for small children diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis specifically, but also any invisible illness. I am sure it will also serve as a therapeutic outlet for me as well and allow me to express and put into words what my family and my son have gone through and will continue to go through for the rest of our lives since June 11th 2019.

           You meet the love of your life, you get married and you start a family. It’s that simple, right? No one ever mentions how hard the last part of that statement can be. My wife and I both knew, at very early ages, that we wanted to be parents. So, as soon as we were married we started trying for a family. We would have never guessed that those months of trying would quickly turn into years. We wanted to be parents so badly that during this time, we also decided to pursue adoption. First, we would have our hand at being matched with an expectant mother because we really wanted a newborn. After many cases being presented to us, we decided maybe we were being led to adopt from foster care. For various reasons, things were taking longer than we had hoped but fate was on our side. After almost two years of trying we decided something was wrong. One of us, both of us, something just wasn’t working like it was supposed to. So, with heavy hearts we called a prestigious local fertility clinic and scheduled our first appointment. The day before our appointment, my wife would give me the best birthday present to this day. The morning before our infertility appointment, my wife took her last pregnancy test and it was positive. Finally, after several years, after all the heart break month after month, we were going to be parents. We couldn’t have been more excited.

           On Sunday, June 9th, just 3 days before her due date, my very pregnant wife curled up in bed with what she thought was a upset stomach from something she had eaten. I’m sure you can guess where this is going. Nope, she didn’t have an upset stomach, she was in labor. After making our way to the hospital, lots of ups and downs and thirty-something hours of labor later, my wife was rushed backed to the operating room for an emergency c-section. Early on June 11, 2019 our precious baby boy made his grand entrance into this world. We did it! We were finally parents and man, was he perfect. William R.C. Krystallis was born a whopping 7lbs and 20inches long and in perfect health. Mommy and baby were doing great. My wife and I, despite being exhausted, refused to sleep. We talk, smiled, held and loved on our precious little boy.

             William was such a great baby and was thriving. He was a natural at breastfeeding and hardly cried. Our nurse came in bright and early the morning after he was born to do some run of the mill testing on William. This would include a blood test to test for Cystic Fibrosis. The state we live in mandates that every newborn be tested for CF within 24 hours of birth. There was nothing to worry about. My wife had been tested during her pregnancy for the most common Cystic Fibrosis genes and was negative. Plus, William was very visibly healthy. Later that evening our doctor came in to tell us that my son’s CF blood work had come back slightly elevated. They tested his blood the next morning. Again, it came back just slightly elevated. We were told that they would have to do another test at his one week appointment. Multiple blood samples were taken over the next week. Each one coming back ever so slightly elevated. Although, not an alarming elevation for CF, each test was elevated enough to require more testing. After 4 total blood tests and several stool samples later, we were sent to a specialty lab to have what they call a sweat test performed on William. At this point, he was barely 2 weeks old. Our little guy had already been through so much and was such a trooper. As long as mommy was holding him he hardly made a peep during the tests. As we waited to hear back about his sweat test results, we had an appointment with a pediatric pulmonologist. While he was concerned that William’s tests were showing positive for Cystic Fibrosis, he assured us that the blood tests can sometimes show false positives but the final diagnosis would depend on the outcome of the sweat test.

           A day shy of 3 weeks, my phone rang and the pediatric pulmonologist we had met with earlier in the week began to speak. He greeted me and within an instant, by the tone of his voice, I knew my life was about to change. “Mr. Krystallis, your son has Cystic Fibrosis.” That was all I heard. Everything else he said became murmurs in my now deaf ear. I held back the tears and interrupted the doctor. “I can’t tell her. You have to.” It was all I could manage to get out without crying. How was I supposed to walk down the hall, into my bedroom where my loving wife rocked our precious baby boy and tell her that the little baby she held had a potentially terminal illness? The baby boy that we wanted for so long, our perfectly healthy baby was very sick. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell her. So, I walked down the hall and handed my wife the phone. I’ll never forget that moment. It was like a scene from a movie. She grabbed the phone, said hello and then took a deep breath. My wife slowly put the phone down, pulled our son to her chest and started crying. Time stood still. We spent the next several hours sitting on our bed, holding our precious and perfect little boy and crying. Crying because we knew the currently life expectancy for a person with cystic fibrosis was only 37 years. Our baby, that looked so healthy was actually sick and would only get sicker as he grew.

[bookwormscififan]

Month One

Ok, so this is an insanely long fic. Here’s the main plot of the story.

Swap AU, month one of Juxta’s torture.

Word count: 1910 words

It had been a month since Chase made the family house his home. The doctor had managed to somehow fix his sleep schedule and he hadn’t missed an appointment yet.

Juxta sat in his room, making lions from the smoky wisps. The lions were laying at his feet, batting a smoky ball.

“Hello, Juxta.” The mute jumped, looking up at the figure in black.

Hello, Death. She smiled, obviously happy he recognised her.

“It’s the first day of the month. We had a deal. The whole family is back.” Juxta paused, face paling as he realised what Death was saying.

You are going to send someone in. Death nodded.

“I remember you asked me not to send your brother in. You might want to prepare yourself.” Juxta nodded, wondering who would be sent in. The lions had woken up, and were beginning to prowl the room. He watched as they walked into the void at the end of his room, and shivered as the shadows began to grow.

“He’ll be here in a minute.”

“Hey, Mal, where’d you leave the bread rolls?” Chase rummaged in the cupboards in search of his desired food, closing them with a bang.

“They should be in the fridge. Juxta likes eating them cold. Check the second shelf.” Malvern walked into the kitchen with a bag of fruits in his hand, then shivered at the sudden chill that rose in the air.

Chase shuddered, paling as shadows grew around him. Malvern’s eyes widened as he realised what was happening, and he raced forward to push Chase away from the wisps.

“Chase hold on, I’ll help you-” He stopped as the doctor was pulled away by the wisps.

“Damn it!” He ignored the confused shouts of the others as he raced up the stairs and toward Juxta’s room.

The door was closed, and smoky wisps bled out from underneath.

“Oh, Jux, what has she done to you?” Malvern stood in front of the door and knocked on it in urgency.

Smoky wisps from under the door crept up to eye level and began to write.

Busy. I’m so sorry, Malvern. She sent Chase here. If I don’t do what she wants I’ll be back at the start. He will be back at the end of the month. Malvern sighed as he read the words.

“Did you… want me to bring you anything? Food, water…” He trailed off as the wisps kept writing. No, Death provides. I would suggest staying away for a bit. Make up a lie to tell the others. Malvern nodded, then sadly walked downstairs.

“Hey, Malvern, what happened? Where’d Chase go?” The hero looked at Jared and forced a smile.

“Nothing happened. Everything is fine, Chase got an urgent call. He might not be back for a little while.” He tried to convince the others that he was fine, but his fear and worry made them think otherwise.

Everyone sat down heavily, conjuring up their own ideas of what happened to Chase.

Chase woke up in a chair. He blinked at the bright light that nearly blinded him, and tried to move in vain. Turning, he saw that smoky wisps were restraining him, and he started to panic.

Two midnight blue lions crept to his side, growling lowly. He looked up as shadow obscured his vision, and gasped as he saw Juxta.

Hello, Chase Brodsen. Doctor. Welcome to Mayhem. And your worst nightmare. He smiled, and the light highlighted his scar. Chase paled as the smoke formed into his family.

“N-no…” Chase whimpered as he watched his family laughing together, happy without him.

I am so sorry for this. You should know that this was never what I wanted. Juxta’s words did not reflect the cruel smirk on his face as he snapped his fingers. The lions ran toward Chase’s family, and screams filled his ears as he watched the creatures attack them.

“No! Juxta, stop!” Chase screamed as he watched his family be ripped apart, and tears filled his eyes as his children looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Stacy… Sam… Fletcher…” His eyes lowered as the screams echoed in the room. Juxta watched this happen with sad eyes, seeing how weak Chase was.

Chase looked at the mute, face full of defeat.

“How could you… I trusted you… Why…?” Juxta paused, a cold feeling appearing in the pit of his stomach.

I am so sorry my friend. Chase turned away as Juxta moved closer to him. The mute sighed and turned the doctor’s face with his cold hand.

Eyes wide, Chase watched as Juxta twitched his fingers. Tendrils of smoke left his fingertips and made their way, slowly, to Chase’s eyes.

“N-no… stop… Help!” His cries were drowned out with screams as the smoke made its way into his eye sockets, filling his ears with screams and cries of help as he closed his eyes to avoid the prickles.

After two hours of agonising screams, Juxta turned from feeding the lions to see Chase was still as a post, watching the empty air with dead eyes.

Chase…? The doctor turned toward him, eyes red from the smoke and face pale.

“I never meant to miss that appointment… I was having trouble with my family… I couldn’t see the symptoms of that illness… I had been drinking…” Juxta gasped as he realised what was happening.

Chase sat in his chair, paralysed with guilt, as patient after patient appeared in front of him. He watched, mumbling excuses, as each blamed him for their misfortunes and wrong diagnoses.

A man with severe leprosy stood in front of him, telling him about his missed appointment that made his leprosy worse. Chase mumbled excuses as the man’s measles grew worse, stirring him into a fit, eventually leaving him paralysed at Chase’s feet as the doctor screamed.

Juxta stood in the shadows, guilt in his stomach as he counted the days Chase would endure this torture.

“You’re doing well.” He turned to look at Death as she watched Chase suffer.

He’s been working at that clinic for seven years. Seven days a week, twelve hour shifts. He’s missed a lot of appointments and given lots of people the wrong diagnosis.

“He’ll be here another three weeks. Just keep the visions going, and it’ll all be over soon.”

Juxta looked up from playing with his lions as Chase mumbled. He had fallen asleep, exhaustion weighing him down. The patients were slowly coming in.

“I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry…” Eyes softening, Juxta stepped toward Chase. Putting a hand on his shoulder, he frowned when the doctor flinched.

You only have one week left. I’ll soften the blows.

Chase smiled weakly as the smoke left his eyes and ears. He looked past Juxta as his children ran to his side, yelling at him to play with them.

Just as he reached out to pick up his daughter, she began to melt, eyes bleeding as her face collapsed. Chase’s face registered horror as he began to scream. Juxta returned to his corner, the lions following in hopes of food.

“The month is almost over. He should be coming back soon. I’d suggest getting some soup and a blanket for him.” Malvern walked into the kitchen, taking out ingredients for Henrik to make some soup for Chase’s arrival.

They both ran out of the kitchen as the sound of a bump alerted them. They looked at the couch as Chase hunched over in a fit of coughs.

“Chase, are you alright? Here, have a blanket, Henrik is going to make you some soup, then you can tell us what happened.” Chase smiled, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders.

Henrik walked in, handing Chase a bowl of warm soup. Mumbling a thanks, Chase drank the soup slowly.

“Vhat happened my friend? Ve vere very worried about you.” Chase looked at Henrik, resting his bowl in his lap.

“I don’t know… it was a dark room. Juxta was there, but he was someone more… sinister…” Chase closed his eyes, holding his head in his hands as he began to rock back and forth. Henrik took the bowl from his lap and put it on the table so it won’t spill.

“Alright, calm down. You don’t need to tell us now if it’s still too raw. I’ll go talk to Jux.” Malvern gave Chase a reassuring pat on the back, then headed upstairs as the doctor jerked back.

“Hey, Juxta? Can I come in?” Malvern knocked on Juxta’s door with caution, watching as the wisps crept up the door once more.

Come in, Malvern. I was hoping to talk to you. Malvern opened the door to see Juxta sitting cross-legged on the bed, one lion pressed into his side in comfort. The hero closed the door behind him as he moved forward and sat on Juxta’s left.

“Are you alright?” Juxta smiled, nodding his head. Malvern frowned, seeing the fear and guilt in the mute’s eyes.

Is Chase alright? Malvern nodded, giving his brother a pat on the back.

“Yeah, he’ll be a bit shaken for a few days, but he’s alright. What happened? We heard a lot of screams.” Juxta looked away, directing his attention to his lion. Malvern watched as he twitched his fingers to write on the ground.

Death made me torture him. I conjured up an image of his family dying. Then for two weeks I filled his mind and ears with all the patients he had missed appointments for or misdiagnosed. The final week was the one I regret the most. I made him see his children die in so many horrible ways. I couldn’t –

Malvern wrapped his brother in a hug as the mute began to cry.

“Hey, it’s ok. It’s ok. You couldn’t help it, Death made you do all this. I forgive you.” Juxta pulled away slightly to look at Malvern.

But if I tried to stop, Death would make me sick again. I didn’t want to hurt Chase like that.

“Hey, at least he’s back. He’s safe. And you’re safe too. That’s all that matters to me.” Juxta smiled, wiping his tears away.

The next one will be next year. She said a random month. Please keep the others prepared. Malvern nodded.

“Come on, let’s get you some food.”

As they descended the stairs, Chase looked up from his bowl of soup and cowered at the sight of Juxta. The mute paused, looking at how scared Chase was. Malvern saw this turn of events and gave Juxta a reassuring pat on the back.

“I’ll go comfort Chase.”

He sat beside the doctor, whispering reassurances to him. Juxta walked into the kitchen and grabbed some food to share with his brother, then sat at the dining table.

“Jux, I’ll be with you in a minute.” Juxta nodded, opening the bag of pretzels and taking one out.

“Chase, I know what he did wasn’t the best, but believe me, he’s feeling so remorseful. He promises he won’t do it again.” Chase stared at Malvern with wide eyes, then nodded slowly.

“I might just go finish this in my office…” Malvern nodded, watching the doctor leave the room.

He joined Juxta at the table, taking a handful of pretzels from the bag and munching them in thought.

He’s scared of me. Malvern shook his head.

“He’ll recover. Maybe just stay away for a little bit.” Juxta nodded, looking in the direction of Chase’s office sadly.

I hope so.