#i got a new prescription for some med i never had and it helps a bit but nothing touches the bitch

[aneurizma]

My mother called me out for looking like a bosnian stereotype and i thought of defending myself but it's kind of hard to do that when you are wearing an adidas jacket, have a buzzcut and hold a jogurt preparing to eat homemade krumpiruša, i think the stereotypes might be true, and this krumpiruša is making life worth living

[creedslove]

TAKING CARE OF JOEL WHEN HE'S SICK 🩺 - HEADCANONS

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: I'm sick and tired of being the patient and being sick, I can't wait to finally become myself again, and in the meantime, I decided to flip the cards on the table and make Joel the sick one hehehe

• Joel is a very tough man and quite stubborn if we're gonna be honest here, so if he admits he's sick and/or in pain, it's because that man IS sick and in A LOT of pain and that's quite concerning

• Joel's strong and rough, so it's pretty rare for him to become sick in the first place, of course there's still occasional colds here and there, perhaps a sore throat and some stomach problems due to the amount of coffee and beer that man drinks and also the stress, but when he began complaining about a certain pain in right side of his back and that his pee was kind of funny + he didn't know exactly how to describe it, but you knew that meant trouble

• going to the hospital was the logical decision, if Joel wasn't so stubborn all the time, and assured you he would be fine and he would just need some time resting, a nap and he would be brand as new

• which obviously wasn't the case, since not only was he in pain the moment he woke up, but he was also soaked with sweat, checking up his temperature, you realized he was feverish and when you offered him some water and something to eat as he hadn't had anything in a while, he was also nauseous

• Joel had never felt that way and he was scared if he was going to be honest, even if he didn't want to admit it, he was shitting himself out of fear, what was up with him? What was he supposed to do with you and Sarah and Tommy and the company? He was so scared and nervous, his mind going crazy as he thought of many ways that situation could go on and his anxiety made him even worse

• as you drove him to the ER and waited with him, you grabbed his hand, caressing it gently and looking into his eyes, it broke your heart. Your big, strong boyfriend, always so ready to take care of all the problems in the world so you wouldn't have a single worry suddenly looked so small, scared and in pain, and the worst part of it, was that you couldn't do anything to help him, so you just pecked his cheek and assured him it would be over soon

• your heart also shattered when the doctor called Joel's name and your boyfriend looked so scared; you held his hand and assured him once more, as you tried not letting anxiety take over you while he was being seen by the doctor. The appointment felt like it took hours, and once Joel exited the room holding a bunch of papers and looking like a kicked puppy, your heart shattered again

"It's kidney stones"

• he said in a small voice and you wished you could take all of his pain away, but unfortunately, you couldn't, so you promised yourself you'd do your best to nurse him back into health

• you grabbed the papers, reading the exams results, the doctor's prescription and all the meds he would have to take, you grabbed him by the hand and drove back to the drugstore, buying Joel everything he needed and then headed home

• you made sure to buy him the best painkillers there were available as well as everything the doctor said Joel needed to take and the first thing you did as you got home, was making him take his meds

• you let Joel take a much needed nap, as you went to prepare him some food, always checking up the list the doctor made, since he needed to have a special diet for a few days

• you knew it was quite the suffering until he could finally pee the stone out, so you made sure to take care of your man: giving him lots of water and other liquids, making him soft and light foods without salt or anything else, giving him the painkillers whenever he needed to and checked him up for fever

• Joel was brave but you felt so upset each time you heard him groan in pain; however, you still felt proud of how strong he was

• when Joel finally felt the stone come out, you two celebrated! You kissed him and wiped the sweat and tears from his eyes, knowing he still needed some days of recovery since he was still hurt on the inside due to the stone's path

• but overall, he already felt and looked much better, and that cheered you up, always spending some time on the couch, where he could find a nice position and snuggled him, massaging his back and kissing his forehead

• as soon as he started recovering, you also began making his favorite food and favorite dessert, you knew it wasn't actually a good idea, but he'd suffered so much, he deserved treats and some spoiling

• it still took him a couple of weeks to become completely healed, and once he did, he made sure to take you out on a date, fancy steakhouse and all - steakhouse because that's Joel we're talking about - and made love to you, knowing he was in good hands to have you taking care of him that way 💞

____

[squadmuse]

ONE DAY IN OCTOBER - Part II

A MATT CASEY X HALSTEAD!OFC FIC (Charlotte Halstead Casey)

A/N: Part two is here, and it’s slowly but steadily getting more and more exciting! 🔥 Please read & review what you think. This is set in s7 btw. PART I

Charlotte nodded absentmindedly as she walked over to her locker and opened it up. “Yeah that’s a good idea, but I might go home and sleep.”

“It’s been a while since the two of you have had one on one time together,” stated Will as he slouched against the cool metal furniture, his brown eyes watching as his sister shoved her pale pink stethoscope away and fumbled around in her handbag. “You could always nap there, it’s past morning now so he’ll be home like always.”

Turning to face Will, Charlotte hummed indecisively. Her brother did make a good point. She could easily nap at their dad’s new apartment and catch up with him still. “You make a good point.”

“Well, I’ve been known to have good ideas, Tater,” laughed Will as he moved to help his sister into her jacket.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes at his reply and giggled loudly at it. “Was Veronica Maguire in high school one of those good ideas, Billy?” she returned, smiling cheekily.

“Ok, that was one of my bad ideas,” stated Will as he remembered back to his high school prom. Veronica’s father had chased him for what felt like half of Canaryville, all because she and Will had made out that night. “But usually I’m a fountain of good ideas!���

Charlotte couldn’t help the snort that slipped out, and it caused both Halstead siblings to laugh hard. “Well, aside from Veronica and some other questionable ideas I’ve seen from you, I’ll agree that seeing Pop is a better one. I can make sure he’s doing well, and his meds are working for him still.”

“He’s a stubborn old guy, but he’s not stupid,” said Will as he locked up Charlotte’s locker for her and began to walk with her out of the room.

“If you say so,” replied Charlotte as she pulled her handbag higher up on her shoulder. “Like Mom used to say, we’ve all got that well-meaning Halstead spunk that makes us do stupid things.”

The two siblings laughed again at their Mom’s old joke. Charlotte knew she was lucky to have such a close bond with not only Will, but Jay also, and especially after they had lost their mother.

“Mom would kick his ass if he didn’t take his meds, probably will do so from heaven.”

“Damn right.”

It didn’t take long for Charlotte to leave Med, saying goodbye to Will in her dark blue SUV. He had made sure to walk there, even though he did not need to.

The two had decided that if Charlotte was going to go visit their dad, that she should pick up his prescriptions and some healthy food. Pat Halstead was a great connoisseur of all things fatty and greasy, which, after a quadruple bypass, wasn’t the best choice at all. Luckily, there were both stores on the way to the new apartment.

She had left Will at Med just after half nine, and after sending a quick text to Matt saying she had just left and for him to stay safe, Charlotte had happily arrived home and promptly fell asleep.

This pregnancy was definitely taking more and more out of her, especially if she didn’t keep moving or occupied. But Charlotte knew she wouldn’t have it any other way, both her and Matt wanted nothing more than their own baby, and this little one inside her was so wanted and cherished already.

Charlotte had never seen her dad cry other than when her mom had died and when she had married Matt, but Pat had teared up when she had told him he was going to be grandpa. He had already been helping Matt put together ideas for the nursery, the two bonding over their love of carpentry, woodworking and construction.

Standing in the doorway of the pastel green nursery after waking from her nap, Charlotte smiled at the painted white rocking chair next to the window. Even with a serious heart condition and waiting for his surgery, her dad had determinedly made the chair for his future grandchild’s first room. It was beautiful and she had definitely cried a ton.

Sighing, Charlotte decided to go take a quick shower and then head out to see her dad. Like Will had said, their dad had a routine and would be home now, most likely watching a baseball game on the television.

The sun was still shining as Charlotte drove through the streets of Chicago, and it just seemed like a good day to her.

It had been a quick effort to pick up some healthy foods for her dad, including some homemade low-cholesterol ready meals that she had found in the food store. The pharmacy had taken a little while longer, but Charlotte didn’t mind, and she had made sure to pick up a new oxygen tank with a mask for her dad. Luckily, he wouldn’t need to use it. But it was always good to have if the need appeared out of nowhere.

Even the loving text and sweet voicemail that Matt had left while she was asleep had made her mood even more irreversibly chipper, but her husband always had that effect on her. It just felt like one of those days where nothing could or would go wrong and Charlotte was happily relishing in it as she sang along to Taylor Swift in the car.

When she did finally arrive at the new high rise apartment building, Charlotte made sure to find a parking spot around the back. It was usually used only by the building’s occupants, but her dad had given her his permission badge to display it in her own car. He didn’t want her walking too far nowadays at six months pregnant.

Charlotte had just opened the trunk of her car and was bringing out the groceries and pharmacy bags, when she felt someone appear at her side and her green eyes quickly darted to her right-hand side and to the figure who stood there. Gasping, Charlotte placed a hand on her chest.

“Mrs Aquino, goodness you scared me there!” exclaimed Charlotte softly as she quickly smiled at the older woman. Her husband, Mr. Aquino, or Bert as he liked to be called, had been a friend of her dad’s since he had moved in, and Charlotte always made sure to be polite to the couple. It wasn’t hard, they were lovely.

Mrs. Aquino waved her hand dismissively. “My apologies dear, I just saw you on your own and had to come help!” she replied sweetly, moving to take two of the bags from her, leaving Charlotte with two also. “I still haven’t met that lovely husband of yours yet, we keep seeming to miss each other.”

“Yeah, Matt doesn’t have normal shifts at the firehouse,” replied Charlotte as she and Mrs. Aquino moved to walk into the building lobby. “That and his construction company keeps him busy, but I know he’d love to meet you too.”

Mrs. Aquino nodded as she pressed the elevator button. “He sounds like a good man, and that is all you can ask for nowadays,” stated the elder woman, glancing up at Charlotte with a wise look in her eyes. “I’m sure he’ll be a great father to your little one.”

“That I know,” replied Charlotte, unable to keep the broad smile off her face at the mention of her husband as a father. She and everyone around knew Matt Casey was perfect fatherhood material and would excel at it. “This little one is very lucky to have him.”

Luckily, there were not many people getting on the elevator today, and Charlotte didn’t have much time to talk to Mrs. Aquino as they approached the twentieth floor, where she lived. Promising to keep in touch, they had said goodbye, and Charlotte had kept herself in the elevator until it reached the twenty-third floor, where her father’s new apartment was.

Coughing slightly, she stepped out onto the soft carpet and made her way down the corridor to apartment 23C, the home of one Patrick Joseph Halstead. The door was unlocked when Charlotte went to open it as she knocked, which was unsurprising.

“Pop?” called Charlotte out into the apartment as she closed the door behind her. “It’s me, Charlotte.”

Pat Halstead’s head popped out of the kitchen doorway, and he smiled ever so slightly before making his way over to his daughter as he gave her a one-armed hug. She was the only one he ever really smiled at or showed affection to nowadays, since his wife and her mom had died.

“What are you doing here, Charlie Bear?” asked a surprised Pat Halstead, using his own nickname for his only daughter.

Charlotte rolled her eyes at her dad’s comment. “What do you think?” she replied, chuckling slightly, motioning to the bags on the ground. “Here to spend some time with my old man!”

Pat grumbled. “I don’t need you taking care of me girl, you have enough to do,” he told Charlotte, but he quickly took the bags from her. “I bet that idiot bellhop downstairs didn’t help you with the bags?”

“Pop, he’s a receptionist, not a bellhop,” sighed Charlotte as she followed her father into his kitchen. He had the window open, and there was a great view of Chicago from where Charlotte found herself among the white tiles and gray walls.

Pat waved his hand in the air. “Bullshit, you’re pregnant, and he didn’t help. What kind of man doesn’t help a pregnant woman?”

“I parked around behind, so I didn’t see him and Mrs. Aquino took some until we got to the elevator,” replied Charlotte as she pulled out one of the kitchen table’s chairs and sat down. “Oh, apparently Bert wants to know if you’re going to poker night next week by the way.”

Pat nodded as he sorted through the bags, huffing whenever Charlotte tried to get up and help. “I’ll call him later, Ronnie won big time last time,” he said, looking back at her.

“That’s good, how is Ronnie?” asked Charlotte. She had met Ronnie a few times now, and he was a nice guy. Her dad seemed to look out for him as he was in a wheelchair after a wartime injury.

“Doing well, got into a new VA group yesterday morning.”

“That’s great news,” said Charlotte happily, her eyes alight with genuine joy for the veteran. “We could go see him with some lunch. I brought bagels and soup with more than enough for us both.”

Pat agreed before going silent as he opened up the pharmacy bag.

“You can go on ahead, I’m just going to find somewhere to shove this blasted thing,” he grumbled, pointing at the new oxygen tank.

“Hey, don’t attack it, you never know when you might need it,” replied Charlotte seriously.

“I’m fine. It’s just heart surgery that I’ve had, and you four kids keep treating me like I’m some sort of cripple!” retorted Pat as he walked out of the room, leaving Charlotte alone with her thoughts.

After a while, Charlotte decided to go up to see Ronnie herself as she knew her dad would eventually make his way up to the twenty-fifth floor apartment.

Leaving Pat to watch yet another baseball game, she smiled and made her way to the elevator for the second time that day, and pressed a painted nail against the little button to open it up.

However, it was as she stood there waiting, that Charlotte noticed that the elevator didn’t seem to be working all of a sudden and she harrumphed loudly. Now she was going to have to walk up two floors of stairs while six months pregnant and then two back down to her dad’s apartment.

She just hoped that it would be working again later, the thought of walking twenty-three floors of stairs down to the bottom made Charlotte want to burst into tears.

Undeterred, the youngest Halstead continued on her way and pushed open the door to the south stairway. It was only then that she smelled a scent that was oddly familiar, as if someone had burned a roast or something similar. Shaking her head, Charlotte started to climb the way up to the top floor.

It was probably nothing.

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Hello! I'm going through a rough time right now and I was just wondering: can I request the ROTTMNT turtles x a S/O who has anxiety, depression and PTSD? How would they take care of a S/O whose depression spells make it hard for them to get out of bed, take care of themselves etc? Bonus if S/O is plus-sized/chubby and insecure about it.

Hope you feel better soon 💜

Raph Leo Donnie and Mikey x Reader with anxiety, depression and PTSD

Raphael

★ Oh lawd please let him help. He wants, no, he needs to help you. You are his s/o and he cares about you more than you think. Need a mental health day? He's coming over with sented candles and snacks.

★ Anything you need, he's going to give. If you are having one of those days where you feel you can't leave bed he will stay by your side so you don't feel alone. If he needs to leave your side he grabs a few of his favorite teddy bears and puts them on the bed where he was.

★ He's familiar with the concept of having body image issues but never once thought about you having them. Your body is perfect to him. It's soft and warm, ideal to lay down and cuddle with. What could be missing?

★ You are gorgeous. You're probably tired of hearing those words from well meaning people but to him it's true. In his eyes every single thing you see as a flaw is beautiful.

★ "How was your day?" Is asked every night when the two of you meet up. He genuinely wants to know how your day went and how you are feeling. If something went wrong of if you are stressed out about something you should vent.

Leonardo

★ When you start to open up to him about being insecure he is going to feal really bad. Mostly because he knows what it feels like and the idea that you feel the same hurts.

★ He is going to mess up at first, but he wants to help. He regularly sends you random body positivity photos and memes he finds online.

★ One of his go-to ideas for when you're feeling stressed out is to bring you on a walk around the hidden city and do a little sightseeing. Usually it works and you get your mind off whatever was bothering you.

★ PTSD attacks scared him at first, purely because he didn't know what to do. He felt really bad after he first saw you have one because he had to call his sister, April, to help. Later he went down a rabbit hole of googling and websites to know what to do next time.

★ Nowadays he is much more prepared, he knows a few grounding techniques to try and help you through PTSD attacks. He even put together a "emergency Y/n kit" filled with stuff for you. Among other things it's got gum, a soft blanket and some watter.

★ it's just a tote bag that sits in the corner of his room. It also has a few Lou jitsu movies on DVD to watch together.

Donatello

★ You have unlimited access to his room and lab for the sole reason that it's the quietest place in New York. It's definitely not because he worries about you and wants to give you a safe space. Not at all...

★ When you don't have the motivation to get up out of bed you get to have some very rare and valuable Donnie cuddles. Usually he would cuddle you for so long but you need this, so he does it for you.

★ He tries to gently bring up the subject of antidepressants, hoping that you might decide to try them. But in true Donnie fashion does it by saying "Did you know antidepressants affect two neurotransmitters in particular, serotonin and norepinephrine?" Yea, he ain't slick.

★ He would never force or pressure you into going on meds. If you say you don't want to go on them for whatever reason he accepts it and leaves it at that.

★ However, if you choose to he would go over the different types of medication. Lists off the side effects and benefits along with what they actually do. For gods sake, he might go through the process of drug compounding for you. No doctor prescription needed.

Michelangelo

★ Can't find the motivation to get out of bed? He's joining you and ends up clinging to you while asleep. He's only leaving the bed if you leave the bed.

★ However, neglecting your own health is where he draws the line. You are not allowed to neglect yourself (not bathing, eating enough or letting yourself to give up). Imagine him saying "open wide!" While holding a chicken nugget up to your mouth.

★ Venting session might do you some good. If you can't afford therapy (thanks American lack of public healthcare) he will pick up a book on phycology and try his best. He's not the world's best therapist/boyfriend but he's trying.

★ Over time you end up telling him a lot about where your PTSD came from. Mikey is really good at noticing things that upset you now. Along with that he researches the effects of mental illness, to try and know more about what you're going through.

[lowlights]

when it finally catches up with you

when it finally catches up with you

jack daniels / agent whiskey x f!reader // 1.4k words

warnings: soft but angsty. reader has depression and mentions taking prescription meds and going to therapy briefly. tears, sadness. but- hope. I've been feeling low and this is a comfort that I needed to write out. if you're feeling sad, you're not alone. let people help you. <3

**

Jack spotted it the second you walked in. Why did you think you could hide it?

You had been sad for some time now and doing everything you could think of to get through it. But meds take time to work and you were just getting started with a new therapist. This morning had been particularly rough. You had tried, in vain, to mask your splotchy cheeks with the powder from the compact that lived at the bottom of your purse. You wore your sunglasses inside, hoping someone would just think you were hungover. Not a totally uncommon phenomenon at the distillery, after all.

But Jack…always saw right through everyone. Including you, from the first moment you entered the Statesman office.

You hurried through the expansive lobby and pushed open the big doors with the words “Employees Only” emblazoned in gold letters. Jack was deep in conversation with another agent as you ducked your head down and made a beeline for your office. You thought, foolishly, that if you could just close your door behind you everything would be alright. You could break down in your office and no one would be the wiser.

“Hey darlin’, slow down! I’ve got some great news.” Jack’s southern drawl carried down the hallway, followed shortly by the sound of jogging boots. You kept walking, determined to make it the last few steps to your office, to safety. You were so close that if you reached out you could almost grasp the brass door handle.

Jack slid in front of you, blocking your path. On any other day, it would be a welcome intrusion to have the cowboy push into your personal space with his big smile and tight jeans. Today, though, he was too close. He would be able to sense - know - that something was very wrong.

“You didn’t stop to get your coffee, I’ve been waitin’ for you by the breakroom all morning,” he pouted, leaning on one arm against your doorframe. His face immediately dropped, brows gathered in concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked in a low voice, not a hint of his usual humor or cocksure attitude. “Did someone hurt you?”

You shook your head quickly, hoping the other agents passing by wouldn’t give you a second look. They rarely did, only coming to you when they needed tech help and even then barely sparing a word or two in your direction. Jack was the exception.

“Alright, let’s just duck in here and sort this out,” he said reassuringly as he ushered you into your own little office. His hand felt warm and solid on your back, and his kindness made you want to break down fully. He closed the door behind him and spun around to look at you, shoulders tense. His gaze was steadfast and piercing, giving you every bit of his attention. He was very clearly worried and it sent a wave of guilt over you.

Jack put his hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently. “What’s goin’ on, sugar?” His pet names never felt condescending and in fact, you found comfort in them. A tiny moment of sweetness in a tough world. “Can you take those off? I’d like to set my eyes on ya,” he asked gently, nodding at your sunglasses.

You reluctantly pulled off your shades and met his gaze. The words that were trapped in your throat gathered in a huge, burning lump. How could you possibly begin to explain? You could barely make any sense of it.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked again as he rubbed his thumb in small circles across your shoulder.

You couldn’t hold it back any longer. “I-I don’t…I don’t know. Everything feels awful and I don’t know why,” you choked out as sobs wracked your body. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

Jack pulled you close to his warm chest as you cried against him. Your mind screamed with embarrassment and shame as your thoughts swirled between how you were getting Jack’s shirt wet with your tears and how you could never show your face at Statesman again.

“Oh, not a thing is wrong with you, sugar. It’s alright. I’ve got you.” Jack murmured reassurances, running his hand up and down your back. His familiar cologne enveloped you and the feeling of his crisp, white shirt against your cheek grounded you. It was softer than you had imagined.

Yes, imagined. Of course, it was your luck that the first time you found yourself in Jack’s arms would be because you were becoming completely undone on a random Thursday. There wasn’t a reason, either. Not one that was easily pointed to and remedied. You made things work for a living, solving problems and innovating, while your own life fell apart around you.

Sadness had followed you for some time now, clawing at your heels. Apparently, it had finally caught up.

The tears were starting to dry after several minutes in Jack’s comforting embrace. You didn’t want to untangle yourself but you had imposed on him for far too long. He was probably dying to make an excuse and a quick getaway, as he had done more than anyone else would already. Surely out of pity, no doubt.

As your breath steadied you could feel Jack murmuring whispered words against the crown of your head. It occurred to you that not only had he not pulled away as soon as humanly possible, but he was hugging you even tighter. You tried to make out what he was saying, but you could only hear every few words.

“Alright…safe… I’m here…sweetest thing…good girl…”

You tilted your head up, ready to apologize, but Jack’s red-rimmed eyes stopped the words from coming. He was upset, but not at you.

“I hate seeing you like this. I’m not gonna leave you feelin’ so low. I swear it. Do you hear me?” Jack kissed your forehead, sending shockwaves down your spine. “You will not stay feeling this way.”

They were the words you had longed to hear but didn’t believe yourself, because sadness lies about such things. Maybe if Jack could say it again a few more times you might start to believe it.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- I’m just so sorry,” you stuttered. You always felt like you had to apologize for taking up space, and people’s time and efforts.

“Don’t you dare. You don’t have a thing to apologize for, sweetheart.” Jack raised his hand tentatively, caressing your cheek with far more gentleness than you ever could have dreamt. He kissed your nose softly before slotting his lips against yours. It was brief- too brief- and the most comforting thing in the world.

Jack’s called you a lot of things, but he’s never called you sweetheart before. You leaned up and kissed Jack again, firmer this time so that you could feel the tickle of his mustache and relish in just how soft those lips were.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. I didn’t think I would be such a mess when I finally got to kiss you,” you said as you pulled away, wiping your cheeks with the backs of your hands.

Jack smiled and grazed his fingers across his lips. “Good, because I was worried I was taking advantage of you in your time of sorrow.” You chuckled and shook your head, stepping back into his embrace.

He tilted your chin up and stared like he could see you for exactly who you were. You were bare in front of him and you waited for it to feel painful like it always did when you were vulnerable in front of others. The bad feeling never came, because with Jack you were safe. He promised he wouldn’t leave you feeling like this, and you believed him.

You laced your fingers with his, overcome with just how right it felt. “Oh, you said you had good news?” you asked, needing not to talk about yourself for a moment.

Jack grinned and pulled your hand up to kiss your knuckles. “Sure did. Got offered the gig of a lifetime. They want me to head up the New York office.” He took a deep breath. “There���s only one person I would want by my side up there. Are you up for an adventure?”

Maybe things could change for the better. Maybe they already were.

[notthewriteryourelookingfor]

I am at my fucking limit so buckle up:

Because I have adhd and anxiety and depression, I need to take melatonin to get to sleep at a reasonable time otherwise I'll be lying in bed for literal hours until I can fall asleep, doubly so if I take my adhd meds that day.

So I live in Australia and if you live in Australia you can't buy melatonin over the counter if you're under 55 (idk why I'm too tired to look up why) and I'm 29 so fuck me I'd need to get a prescription and then a months supply is like $30.

So I've been ordering melatonin from this place in the US which is about 5 months supply for about the same price maybe a lil extra for shipping like $50 for 150 tablets.

So when I realised I was getting low on them I went to the sight and ordered again.

Easy-peasy right?

Well it turned out that I had enough to get me to the last day of their delivery window (about the 27th of Feb) and I was like " ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ they're usually pretty quick with delivery so I should be ok" but then the 27th rolled around and no delivery.

So I checked the tracking and it hadn't been scanned since the 17th. It was in my country, in my state, but hadn't moved in 10 days.

So I looked and the company was using a new 3rd party delivery company and they Sucked. It was a continuous problem that they just didn't deliver packages, lost them, took months and months and months to deliver something to next door the facility.

So I got in contact with the American company and they're gonna send me a refund (more on that in a sec) and til then i was like "dear God ill have to order from Amazon 🤮) so I did.

Shipping cost more than the product but the delivery time was about a week and I'd found 2 of my old diazepam that I could take if I really needed to.

To note: I usually only take my meds for work, I can generally get by without them when I'm not working but now not taking them for work makes me feel like I am not being as useful/productive/etc as I could be and as a supervisor who is often the one in charge I need to be on the ball.

Amazon package was meant to come today.

I did get an Amazon package today but was it my desperately needed melatonin? No it was a fucking Christian self-help book:

Like does this look like medication to you?!?!?!

I get that mistakes happen but this is the 2nd issue I've had with this 1 thing.

Also as a queer satanist/witch it feels a lil insulting even tho it wasn't probably wasnt intentional at all and some Christian who wanted a self help book has been sent sleep medication like oops.

But that is not the end of the saga.

Luckily Amazon is on the ball about refunds and I was able to reorder the item (& a 2nd brand so we'll see who comes first) and paid extra for fast shipping. Even then it will take another week for it to arrive.

I have my supervisor shift on the weekend, I cannot be unmedicated for it but I will be running on 2 hours of sleep if I'm lucky.

If I didn't take the adhd meds I'd be on maybe 4 hours sleep so it's not much difference tbh.

But on top of all that: the refund from the 1st company (that I will never be going back to after this) was pending in my bank account. It had the amount ($95 cuz I ordered 3 bottles of 2 different strengths plus shipping) with a "this is pending" label.

It has now vanished from my account.

It is no longer pending but I also do not have the money.

I am giving them the 10 business days they said it'll take and if it's not in my account I am raining hell.

I work retail minimum wage, I live paycheque to paycheque, I cannot be out $95 with nothing to show for it.

10 business days is the 15th

My new order is meant to arrive on the 14th

We'll see what I get first, a refund from the person I ordered from in January or the replacement items I ordered Wednesday last week.

(Also the express shipping isn't much faster I just need it literally as soon as possible I am so tired)

[hargrove-mayfields]

Disabled Billy and Steve Week

Day 5- New Diagnosis

My prompt: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder in Billy

-•-•-•-

For what must be the tenth time in the last month, Heather is parked outside of the hospital, her baby girl in the backseat, but the passenger side empty, waiting for Billy to get back.

The doctors have been running tests and screenings at appointment after appointment. He’s been… struggling. Ever since Isabella was born, his mental health had plummeted. It was never perfect, but for the first time, Heather was genuinely afraid.

Watching her husband pick his scalp until it bled and turned his golden hair red, or wash his face until he got a rash because his freckles started bothering him, was terrifying.

The fear isn’t eased when Billy walks out with a prescription bag, and red eyes that make it clear he’s been crying.

“What did they say?” Heather asks, as soon as he opens the car door.

Billy takes his time answering. He seems like he’s in shock.

Heather would hold his hand, but he has to sanitize, take off his mask, then sanitize again. An obsession.

Somehow, Heather isn’t shocked when Billy finally mumbles, “It’s ocd.”

Honestly, she doesn’t know what to feel. She’s been researching, scrolling on a tablet for hours after Billy is asleep to see what professionals all around the world would diagnose her husband with. But none of that preparation had told her how to feel.

Some part of it is relief, to finally have answers and be able to help Billy manage his symptoms. Another little piece of her heart is scared for how Billy will be feeling through all of this.

She decides to let him tell her, “Is that a good thing? A bad thing? Talk to me, sugar cube.”

“I just need a minute Hetty. That’s all.” Billy tries to smile, but it’s more like a grimace. It hurts to see him like that, but Heather will give him his space.

Instead of bothering him more, she just checks on him every now and again, seeing him glance back at the baby using the mirror that points down at her rear-facing car seat literally every few seconds.

When they get back home, which isn’t far since they knew their array of medical issues would require them being close to a hospital, Billy takes the baby straight inside and lays on the couch with her, just closing her eyes and cuddling her as tight as he feels safe to cuddle her little body.

Heather gives him a kiss on the cheek, and goes to take her own meds, calling from the kitchen, “What are you feeling for dinner tonight, baby?”

Silence. She comes back in, and Billy is in tears. Their little girl is biting his shirt and dozing off, and Billy is trying not to shake too hard with each sob.

His red eyes lock onto her, his lower lip wobbling, “Am I a bad dad?”

“Biscuits for dinner it is.” Heather declares softly, deciding he needs one of his comfort foods at the moment. Additionally, she takes the baby in her arms and comforts Billy with her words, “And no. Sweetie, you’re the best dad in the world.”

It barely helps anything. Billy is spiraling, “But I’m the reason the baby room is so plain. It takes me three times as long as you to change a diaper and I can’t cook for my wife and my kid because I have panic attacks if the oven timer is the wrong number. I can’t clip my baby’s nails cause I might go too short, I can’t hold her when she’s hyper and moving too much- I can’t even fucking be trusted with myself, let alone her little life!”

After all that, Billy takes a shaky, tear-filled breath in, “This OCD shit sucks.”

“None of that means you’re bad though. Your way of doing things is particular, but baby, you’re still here, and you’re doing your best for our girl.” Heather soothes gently.

He scoffs at himself, wiping his eyes more aggressively than necessary, “That’s the bare minimum.”

“Some parents can’t do that. Your mother didn’t.” It probably stings, but it’s reality. One of Billy’s biggest fears when they got pregnant with Isabella was becoming like his parents, or worse. Heather needs him to know that’s not the case.

“Hetty-“ Billy’s face pinches up, like he doesn’t know whether to be hurt or not.

So Heather decides to offer a little bit more insight, and maybe lessen the blow of the brutal reality, “My mom didn’t either. She drugged herself out of her mind and missed my whole childhood. I don’t have any memories from before I was ten. But Bella’s gonna have so so many with you.”

It seems to work, with Billy even smiling as he looks at their little girl and takes it all in, “Do you think she’ll think I’m weird?”

“Honey bun, every kid thinks their parents are weird at some point. But I do know she’s going to think you’re the most loving father a little one could ask for.” Heather chuckles softly.

Now it’s her turn to feel a little bit of panic.

See, Heather has a secret, and seeing as Billy could use a little cheering up, she decides to let him in on it. She takes his hand in hers, and places it on her stomach, right above her scar, “Two little ones, actually.”

Instantly she sees the difference in Billy, and the way his eyes light up. He sits bolt upright and hugs her tight, crying now but for a much better reason.

“Holy shit, baby! How long have you known?”

“Four days. But I’m six weeks along.” Heather enthuses, combing her fingers lovingly through his long curls.

Billy looks like he’s calculating, then he gasps, “Six weeks- Hetty, that’s almost a quarter of the way!”

“I know! Hopefully it’ll fly by like the last one.” Heather laughs softly in pure joy.

Her pregnancy with Isabella was relatively easy, and the number of seizures she had even stayed consistent since her epilepsy medications were safe for her and baby. The worst thing was the morning sickness, but it passed early on enough that she’d somehow enjoyed pregnancy.

Billy had been a wreck, between his emotions and his fears. It took days of promising that she’d be okay when she was nine months in and he’d been scheduled for a work trip before he felt safe to leave her by herself.

At the moment, he doesn’t seem as panicked as he’d been before, but he does fret- “No, no, no, no- I need time. I need to work on stuff.”

Heather cups his face sympathetically, “Bubs, I already told you-“

But Billy interrupts to tell her she’d misinterpreted, “Not personal stuff, lover. I mean I literally need to work on fixing this shitty house up if we’re gonna have two littles running around.”

“First, we need dinner.” Heather happily changes subjects then, but sternly puts her hands on her hips when Billy gets up to help, “Don’t even think about it. This baby bun is literally the size of a grain of rice, I don’t need you butlering yet.”

“Please let me. I feel like I’m buzzing inside.” Billy begs, pouting his bottom lip out in that way that’s always made Heather feel soft.

She rolls her eyes playfully, and hands him a snoozy Bella back, the little one year old reaching for her daddy too, “Put baby girl in her high chair. I could use your help washing fruit.”

“Fruit and.. biscuits?” Billy looks absolutely perplexed by her dinner choices.

Oh how Heather loves this boy.

“No, silly. I’m making you biscuits. Bella can’t eat stuff like that yet though.”

A flush strikes Billy’s cheeks a deep red color- Heather's favorite since she met her soulmate in a pair of swim trunks the same shade- “How the hell do you remember all that stuff?”

Heather just shrugs, though her point is that it’s not as easy as it seems, “Because I don’t have two hundred other things to remember in a day. That and I read a lot of books when I was bedridden. C-sections give lots of time for learning.”

She also goes out into the kitchen, fishing ingredients out of the pantry and measuring utensils out of the cabinets. Billy steps behind her, his hand on the small of her back so she doesn’t bump into him, to reach into the fridge for some strawberries, blueberries, and grapes.

“I’d probably lose my marbles trying to keep track of what’s real and what’s pseudoscience garbage.“ Billy huffs, while portioning out fruit to clean.

It makes Heather recall a time when they were about to be parents and she couldn’t, “Right? Remember when I thought it was bad to sleep on my side when I was pregnant?”

“Changed your tune real quick when the back pain hit.” Billy laughs lightheartedly.

Heather takes the opportunity to reiterate what she’d promised Billy before, “Exactly. Nobody gets everything perfect on the first try.”

She looks over, and Billy is just staring at her lovingly. That was exactly what he needed to hear. Heather smiles back, and blows a kiss, a little puff of dough flour coming from her hands.

Billy acts like he catches the kiss, and puts it to his heart. Nothing beats flirting like dumb, lovestruck teenagers.

Until a piercing wail cuts it off.

Bella over in her high chair starts crying her little head off, Heather guesses because she missed a nap earlier while they were waiting for Billy to finish his appointment.

That sound to them as new parents is instant panic, all the time, and Heather isn’t sure when that feeling will end. Until it does, she knows it’s been hitting Billy harder, and decides to let him take care of it, in the form of an offer, “You wanna get her, bubs?”

Just like she predicted, he’s already drying his hands on the apron not around his own waist, but on Heathers, and running to grab the baby, “Already on it.”

Heather just smiles after him, proud and fond all at the same time. Throw any new diagnosis their way, and they can handle it. Just Billy, her and Isabella, and their little bean on the way. An unbreakable family.

~~~~~

Interested in helping the community? Today’s organization that I’ve chosen to highlight is the Peace of Mind foundation.

POM is part of the international OCD foundation, which means they are recognized as being on of the most beneficial sites for individuals with obsessive compulsive disorder.

On the site, folks can access information about their disability, seek positive affirmations, reach out to care teams, and provide education to family members or carers to make sure the individual is getting the best treatment.

While the site uses language that I personally see as demeaning, I still thought it was important to highlight what they do for the community. I also couldn’t find a single charity or organization that didn’t use the word “suffering” to describe living with our disorder. I personally don’t see my OCD that way, but as I said, I wanted to show that there is a foundation out there trying to support us.

The site accepts donations, saying they will go towards families, therapists, support teams, and of course individuals with OCD. If you’re interested in reading more on your own and forming your own view, click here and the link will take you to the site!

[sarcasticsra]

Excuse me a moment while I YELL INTO THE FUCKING VOID.

Vyvanse is having shortage issues now. Had to call my pharmacy because I hadn’t gotten a notification on that one and wanted to see if there was an issue. Evidently yes, the issue is that it is out of stock and they don’t know when they’ll get it again.

I hate everything about how we handle ADHD meds in this stupid fucking country. Because now I have to either hope they have it in soon or call around to the other five pharmacies in town to see if they have it, and if they do, then I have to call my doctor to get an entirely new prescription sent, and THEN I have to call my original pharmacy back to have them cancel the old prescription in their system so the new pharmacy can fill it.

Why? Because it’s a schedule 2 drug and that means they can’t just transfer the fucking prescription.

Why? Because the War on Drugs has rotted our collective societal consciousness.

Why? Because there’s not a single fucking moral panic this godforsaken country won’t embrace with open arms, I swear to god.

So naturally that means we had to put the fucking drug cops in charge of medication quotas. And as we all know: ACAB.

“There’s so many new prescriptions!!! Zomg!!! Who knows if they’re legitimate because they were prescribed via telehealth!!!”

Oh wow so this disorder that makes it extremely hard to sustain and regulate attention and thus makes it difficult to do routine things like setting up doctor’s appointments (oftentimes multiple appointments) and then remembering them and getting to them on time… that somehow got diagnosed way more when we took away some of those obstacles? Madness! Witchcraft! Sorcery!

Before I was diagnosed/medicated there were literally days where I couldn’t even get out of bed. I would be laying there, staring at the ceiling, yelling at myself in my head to get up, get up, get up, you need to go to work, get. up. goddammit… to no avail.

Vyvanse has literally given me my fucking brain back. I can look at a task and think, “hmm, I should do that,” and then I just fucking do it. Do you know how many weeks’ worth of laundry I used to have just laying around in baskets because forcing myself to put it away was literally impossible? Do you know how fucking painful it is to look at a task that you have failed to complete, over and over, a simple task, a stupid task, you should just be able to do this, why can’t you just fucking do this…

I think people who have never experienced this can’t truly understand how horrific it feels to have to fight your brain on every. single. thing. Every single task is a calculation: can I do that now, if I don’t do that now will I be able to do that later, wait I already have to do task X and once I do that there’s no way I’ll have the mental energy to force myself to do task Y too. It’s like trying to get your work done on a computer with 80% of its resources being bogged down by bloatware. Can you get some things done? Sure, probably a few. But it’s going to take you three times as long and if you’re not careful the whole system will freeze and you’ll get absolutely nothing accomplished, and oh yeah, it’ll be wildly fucking frustrating the entire goddamn time.

It just absolutely infuriates me that we’re so fucking scared of the potential for “drug abuse” that we fuck over everyone, as if drug abuse is somehow the biggest moral failing in the world. Maybe if we addressed some of the things that lead to it, there would be less of it! Maybe just criminalizing everything is stupid, counterproductive, does not help in any measurable way, and oftentimes just makes everything worse!

And not for nothing, but if not for the truly incredible insurance I am lucky to have through work, getting diagnosed would have cost me $1200. My husband and I are doing well enough that we probably could’ve managed that in a couple installments, but for a large percentage of people, that prices them right out. And I live in a very low cost of living area. I can’t imagine what it costs elsewhere. How many of those “abusing” these meds just actually fucking need them but can’t afford to get them prescribed? Because even after the initial diagnosis, my first scrip cost $230 thanks to a deductible, and then $40/month after that. $40 isn’t awful, but there are plenty of people who do not have an extra $40 per month. (And my copay is on the lower end. I’ve seen people with insurance saying they’ve had to pay $200+ every month.) And then you have to have regular meds check ups, every 2 months or so. So add another $200 for each of those without insurance.

I’m extremely fortunate that the place I work not only offers great insurance but also pays 75% of the premium so that it’s actually affordable, and all of my outpatient mental health visits are covered at 100%. But I shouldn’t fucking have to be glad I won the employer lottery. I shouldn’t have to worry that I won’t be able to get the medicine that makes me functional just because we continue to exist in a society still fucked up by Calvinism to this day.

None of us should have to an endure a fucking asinine, callous, broken system that, whenever any of the myriad problems with it are brought up, has the audacity to go, “oh, don’t blame us, blame those other people who are also suffering!”

Fuck all the way off. We made all of this shit up. None of it is immutable. We just don’t give a fuck that people are hurting, and it shows.

[frostmoths]

Might regret posting this. cw alcohol, suicide ideation

Let me preface by saying I wrote this, and a much more emo version before, over the course of a week, and I’m feeling a little better now. It comes and goes. It's everything I’ve been handling since late May, and I want to open up about it.

I have extreme depression and recent happenings have tipped the scale to make me nearly non-functional. I started therapy and medication a year ago because of the world’s most passive-aggressive rejection. I’m way worse now. I’m on my third med and if what happened Sunday (I was very ill) was a side effect, I’m going to have to quit it too. I don’t believe in antidepressants as a cure-all and I’ve only been conceding because I’m tired of wanting to lay down and die. Not kms necessarily, just stop hurting. Though I’ve got like 10 bottles of various prescription insomnia meds which don’t do any good on their own, so maybe if I take them all at once

One weeknight in early June I tried to drink myself to passing out and forgetting what broke my heart. Instead I threw up and went to work the next day hung over. And it was an embarrassingly small amount to drink. Just that it was cheap and I had it on an empty stomach because I was too enraged to make dinner. I haven’t had alcohol since. I dumped out what was left. 

My idiot father, who has dementia, has taken to dragging his guns around everywhere because he’s paranoid they’ll be stolen, and gets angry if he's confronted about it. I’ve alerted several authorities but unless my mother complies, nothing will be done. She won’t because she’s also insane. In May I had a full nervous breakdown expecting me or my cats to get murdered. It was probably the breaking point for my short-lived girlfriend dumping me two days later. Once again my shitty family has ruined any chance of happiness for me. 

When I saw a pistol on his chairside table the other day, instead of blind panic, I felt nothing. I kind of hoped it was loaded and he’d do it, so everything would stop.

My new house is a shitshow and I got ripped off. I have approximately 6 hours a week to work on it and zero help so I’m still not moved in. At this point I hope to sell it after a couple of years of improvements (if I can afford them), get my money back, then maybe flee this godforsaken country and go live in the mountains in. Fucking Iceland. idk. My mother promised assistance for certain things and took it back because that’s what she does. I’m about ready to cut her out of my life.

I can barely eat without getting sick in one way or another. I no longer enjoy things like cooking, EDM, watching anime, and, worst of all, writing. Last month I started poking at [redacted]’s outline as a way to keep my head above water, only to realize it’s way more vague than I remember and that some parts make no damn sense. This is a thing I’ve been bragging about for 3 years as proof that I know what I’m doing, so I feel like a fool. I deleted everything I ever posted about it on my sideblog. I’m tempted to wipe what’s started off AO3. Tempted to delete the entire account tbh, too many memories which are too raw right now. I’m not a skilled writer and the pros (plural) were right to call me out on it last year. And this has been the one thing about myself I was confident in my entire life, that I was banking on making a career now that I finally, finally have my own house with peace and quiet, and now I can see I was fucking delusional. I give up.

My therapist says I have trauma and that I never healed from what happened in 2020 (not Covid-related). I can only see her every 5-6 weeks because she’s that booked. She said she argued with administration because she can't focus on her current patients but they keep throwing new ones at her. Kind of like my job. Everyone everywhere is overworked.

To cope I’ve been indulging in something that’s frowned upon — not a substance abuse thing, but an ethical thing? I guess? Among creatives. I don’t care because it helps me. My psych and my therapist both told me to seek supplemental therapy in between appointments. I think they had something more like b*tterh*lp in mind, but that’s a proven pyramid scheme so lol no thanks. Psychology books and imaginary friends it is.

My employer is closed today and tomorrow for the holiday, and I’m on vacation next week. Much-needed extended time off for me. If I don’t make headway on the house then I don’t know what. I didn’t want to spend my one week off a year moving in the middle of fucking summer during the worst heat on record. At one point I had much more pleasant plans but that’s no longer happening and I can’t think about it. I can’t, but I still do. 

I wanted this house to be my success story. Having worked hard, she rescued herself, escaped her toxic family with her fur sons and flourished creatively, healthfully, and romantically. All was well. The reality is that I was likely conned as a first-time single homebuyer and I'm so mentally ill now that I may not be able to meet the demands of maintaining a 70 year old house with nonworking appliances I can't afford to replace, let alone my own well-being. How did I get myself into this. 

There's one last-ditch effort I can make to pull myself through, but not properly until I move. It sounds like a lame excuse and it probably is, but whatever. Better later than never. However, I tried this last fall, went too hard too fast and burned out after 4 months. I threw a lot of money away doing it. I keep hearing push yourself, go intense, you'll never get there with baby steps but I also think you have to take baby steps if you're starting from zero because otherwise you'll burn out? I'm so tired of conflicting information everywhere. One tells me one thing, another says that's wrong. I can't trust anyone. 

There are a couple of other things I’m looking forward to trying more than exercise. Which are probably less healthy for me. Who is going to stop me. hashtag yolo

I keep telling myself it won’t be this way forever. Just like summer. It comes around once a year, it feels like death, and then there’s relief. But it’ll happen again and again. Just like summer. You have to adapt.

I'm glad pride month is over. I don't know what I'm supposed to be so proud of.

[rustbeltjessie]

Today: finally got my oldest kiddo an ADHD diagnosis and a prescription for ADHD meds. (We’ve suspected he’s ADHD as well as autistic for a while now, but waiting lists and bureaucratic red tape are a thing, so it took a while to actually make this happen.) Later, I went to the post office to check my PO Box and buy a sheet of stamps, and the postal worker at the counter was thee hottest futch, like so hot I was flustered just talking to them. And then after that I went to the drugstore to pick up my kiddo’s meds, and I browsed through the makeup section cuz I really need some new eyeliner, but I couldn’t afford any because eyeliner costs like $10-15+ now?! I had a split second where I considered just pocketing some but being that I am no longer a teen or 20-something, and that I have kids of my own, I’m no longer willing to risk getting arrested for stealing fucking eyeliner.

In general, I’ve been really on top of shit lately. Had some literary contests and magazines I wanted to submit to that required submission fees, so I found an extra little side hustle to make money for those, and then sent them in. I’m very close to being done with the new issue of my zine. I’ve got D. on meds and have also got the process going for him to get other therapies and community help. I’ve signed the other kid up for some art and science classes he’s interested in. I’m considering going back to school for something quite different than I ever studied before, and I sent away for information from a couple nearby universities. And I made a dentist appointment for myself, even though I have hella dental anxiety. (Truly, going to the dentist is one of my least favorite things in the world. I would rather spend an entire day at the DMV than go to the dentist. I would rather fly than go to the dentist, and I hate flying.)

Lol, but I’ve long suspected I’m ADHD but never pursued a diagnosis, and there are some common ADHD things that I don’t relate to, so when I hear those I’m like oh, no, maybe I’m not. But like half the stuff the doc was talking about today I was like: “Oh. Me, me, me again, also me.” So…

And I’m really happy I’ve found a teeny side hustle to pay for submission fees. Now I just gotta find a way to make that sweet, sweet eyeliner money…

[dgknightblue]

I have unfairly only thought about rise Leo and his interactions with alternate them’s.

What about Donnie?

Mikey?

Raph?

I feel like they would acknowledge not only that he is a soft shell, but that he is one of the most blood thirsty species of turtles and are surprised at how well he is surprising it. Someone don’t understand how the way he acts is “suppressing” but say nothing and take a step back.

They would adore him as they should. Then try not to pee when they see him lift a heavy object with his chains. They love his cooking but got kicked out of his kitchen when trying to bond with him.

They judge him for a second before being stunned at him softly hug one his brothers and help them out of a panic attack. He was crying.

They realized these kids could get their help like they never really did. They try not to be too hard on them then.

They rarely see rise Raph look like the other Raph’s even when he shows his anger- they only ever see him be super terrifying it comes to protecting his brothers from something or someone.

They realize late that these kids are unhinged because they are mostly polite.

When they see their problems that are poorly hidden, unlike Leo who seems to master the keeping secrets down bad, they try to help without making them feel threatened by their help.

The kids are broken like they are and feel guilty they couldn’t stop that. No one could ever save them- they always have to save themselves or their friends.

There were a lot of things they learned from the kids too. Like some of them didn’t know what stimming was or that they do it.

The kids just walk into human place without a care and get prescription meds or off brand meds that work for their issues.

Apparently New Yorkers aren’t supposed to bat an eye at crazy stuff. Also the kids generation just joke about really sad stuff because they all have issues and wow did they correct someone on how to shank people?

This generation is so desensitized. It wasn’t that it was a different universe (maybe) it was also the culture that had developed as a coping mechanism within the youth as a whole.

(Where am I going with this???)

Anyway they have their own crisis over the things they learned.

Raph hasn’t met Mona Lisa yet???

Or Renet?

Slash?

No bebop or rocksteady?

Baxter Stockboy??? Is a kid???

The only aliens they’ve met are the Kraang?

Kraang is a trigger word?

They all shift uncomfortably as Raph hyperventilates as he searches for Leo and they all hug him. He tells them he’s fine, Alive, won’t disappear, and they are safe.

They don’t like the way he smiles when he says that.

Then they find out the kids are criminals that have been to jail and know crime bosses. At least they’ve never killed before, right? Right?

“Your first response was to cut him in half!?”

“What? He was on my head! I panicked! I’d like to see what you’d do if something was gross and wiggling and touching you-“

“Okay I get where you’re coming from- but please try to say calm next time.”

They do not like Baron Draxum or Big Mama.

[callsign-magnolia]

I Hope You Dance // Ch. 25

MATURE CONTENT (18+)

A/N: This is cross posted to my Wattpad, so if this seems familiar that is why!

TW: Mental abuse, emotional abuse, slight physical abuse, death and loss.

Description: When Caila meets Rooster, sparks fly. But, she's already married, to a man who she thought loved her, and won't let her go. Rooster will fight for her, he just has to convince Caila to fight for herself.

Word Count: 7.9k

Chapter 24 | Masterlist

I spent that night awake, and when four a.m. came around again I realized I had officially been awake for days without any sleep at all. I decided to go on an early morning run on the beach, hoping I would finally wear myself out. Halfway through my run the right side of my head started hurting and I knew I had to get back to the house. The pain eased slightly when I got back, so I just took some over the counter meds instead of my prescription before getting in the shower. I took a long hot shower, trying to soothe my aching muscles and scrubbing myself clean. I still felt incredibly irritated, almost pissed at Rooster and I hated it. It made me want to smash my head into the wall. 

As I got out I looked at myself in the mirror for the first time in days. I was paler and the dark circles under my bloodshot eyes were prominent. I had to get some sleep, I was bordering on dangerous if I didn't. I decided to crawl back in bed with Dahlia and hope for sleep, so as I curled against her warm body I tossed my arm over my eyes and laid still. I know I hurt Bradley last night, I hated that I did it but I was so angry in the moment. I feel like I'm going crazy and I just feel like everyone was calling me crazy last night. I've been through hell, but surely that didn't push me over the edge, right? 

I don't know how long I laid there but I finally moved when my phone rang. As I moved my arm, I saw the sun peeking through the curtains and I groaned as it made my head pound more. I leaned over, grabbing my phone and seeing a local number pop up. I immediately sat up, groaning in pain as I did and answered the call. "Hello?" I croaked. I probably sounded sick or something. "Lieutenant Motley. It's Admiral Simpson, how are you? You don't sound so good." I cleared my throat before answering, not wanting to sound worse than I am. "I just have a migraine. How can I help you Admiral?" I bit my lip, anticipating the news. "As of Monday your paperwork to be reinstated will be completed. I was just wondering if you were ready to come back?" I nodded to myself, excitement growing. "Absolutely. I am more than ready." 

"Good, we'll see you at 0600 on Monday morning." I kicked my legs in excitement. "Thank you, Admiral." We exchanged our goodbyes before I threw myself back on the bed, squealing in excitement. Suddenly I felt something wet, sitting up I looked down seeing mother nature made her appearance, a whole week late. "SON OF A BITCH!" I yelled out in anger, my excitement dying as I realized I now had to clean. I got up, ripping the sheets off the bed forcing Dahlia to get up before I dragged them downstairs and tossed them in the washer. The phone call was a distraction and as that faded I felt the pounding in my head again so I took another dose of meds, not caring how long it had been since my last dose. I went back upstairs getting back in the shower and scrubbing my body clean once again before putting on fresh clothes, basically one of Rooster's UVA shirts and underwear, pants or shorts are just too tight right now. 

I went back downstairs with my dirty clothes, putting the sheets in the dryer and the clothes in the washer before grabbing a water and tossing myself down onto the couch. I once again just laid there, sleep never coming like I hoped. Tear spilled down my cheeks in frustration. All I wanted was to sleep for days and I couldn't even sleep for five minutes and with a migraine coming on it just made me feel worse. I cried, hard. Hoping that would tire me out but it didn't, it only made me sick. I rushed into the downstairs bathroom, throwing up what little I had in my system. I cried as I leaned against the wall, just wanting things to go back to normal. When I was sure I wouldn't puke again I managed to crawl back into the living room, grabbing my phone and making my way upstairs. I went back into the bathroom, opening the drawer that I keep my feminine products and only finding one tampon left. "Fuck." 

Once I was finished in the bathroom and washed my hands I went and laid on the bed dialing Phoenix's number. "Hey, Magnolia. You okay?" I shook my head. "I'm out of tampons. Would you be the love of my life and grab me a box when you leave base?" She hummed. "Absolutely. Anything else?" I thought for a minute, a sharp pain passing through my lower abdomen. "A heating pad. I haven't been able to find mine since the move." I said rolling onto my stomach to ease the ache. "I can do that. Can you wait till we finish at four?" I nodded. "Yeah, I can. Door's unlocked. Thank you, Phoenix." I could practically hear her smile on the other side of the line. "You're welcome, Magnolia." With that I hung up, hoping that if anything the pain from my oncoming migraine would knock me unconscious. 

~~~

"Bradshaw!" Phoenix yelled at him, catching his attention as he climbed out of the cockpit of his jet. "I'm not up for a lecture, Phoenix." He said meeting her halfway across the hangar. "I just want to know why my best friend is ignoring me? You never gave Hangman and I an explanation last night when you said she was gone." He huffed, pushing past her but she stopped him by grabbing the helmet he had in his hand. "You don't get this back until I get an explanation." He glared at her, not up for her antics today. "I fucked up." Phoenix raised a brow at the vagueness he offered her. "Explain." She said and he sighed, moving his sunglasses from the bridge of his nose, up to his hair. 

"You know I asked her to move in, right?" She nodded, spinning the helmet in her hands. "I had been planning to renovate and we agreed to do it together before she officially moved in. I told her to wait for me to get home before she started, I told her it was because I didn't want her to hurt herself but really I wanted to be there when we started. We were tearing out all the things my parents did to that house, it was harder than I thought to start this process but when I got home..." He paused, catching his breath as sadness swelled in his chest. "Dammit, Phoenix. She had already taken the bedframe apart and ripped up over half of the carpet upstairs. Hell, she had even sanded the entire bedframe and stained it black." Phoenix raised a brow. "I'm confused. Did you not want those things done?"

Of course she was confused. Rooster meant everything to Magnolia, she wouldn't just go making changes unless she was sure he was on board. But from what Rooster had told her, she had been acting weird the last few days. "I did, I did. I just, it was overwhelming to walk in and see the house upside down. My parents boombox and a box of cassette tapes had been set on the mantle because she was listening to them. She found them in the closet along with some home videos my parents made." He had tears in his eyes as he spoke. "So what's the problem?" Phoenix asked trying to understand what drove them apart so suddenly. 

"I yelled at her. I told her she didn't get to come in and make changes, I told her it was my house and she could've caused some real damage and fuck up something." Phoenix's face fell, realizing Rooster did more than just hurt her feelings. He basically told her she was a fuck up, and that she couldn't do things right. Just like Aaron basically had for their entire relationship. "I also told her the house meant more to me than anything else." He said, running his hands over his face. There it was. He categorized her second, which probably hurt more than anything else he said. "I tried apologizing to her that night, I stood in front of her door for a whole hour just knocking and talking. I think she was there but I couldn't be sure, so I just left the food I brought home in front of her door. She opened the door and took it pretty quick and she sent me a thank you text but she wouldn't actually talk to me."

Phoenix just crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him as he beat himself up mentally and emotionally. "I can't function Phoenix. She became part of my every day life so fast, I woke up this morning still expecting her and Dahlia to be in the bed and neither of them were. Then her mom called me in a panic saying Mags yelled and cussed at her." Phoenix furrowed her brows. That was very strange behavior for Magnolia. She's always so kind with her mother, they may yell but she always makes it a point to never cuss at her mom and vice versa. "She was rambling on about how she thought she was having a manic episode." Phoenix felt like she stepped into another dimension. This wasn't the Magnolia she knew.

"Manic? Magnolia suffered from depression in her marriage but I've never heard of her having any form of mania. I think that usually comes with bipolar one." Rooster's eyebrows shot up. "That's why she was going on about not being crazy last night." He said, realizing why she was going on about it. "What?" "Last night, when I got to the hard deck. She was talking to Penny and she thought Mags should talk to someone. Then Mags said she hadn't been speaking to her therapist since before the uranium mission." Phoenix's eyebrows shot up. "No, she was supposed to be in therapy for a whole three years." Rooster looked to her confused. "It was something the doctor suggested after the accident. Her marriage is a lot of baggage to unpack so when she started seeing her therapist she recommended three years as a baseline to unpack everything." 

Rooster groaned, falling into a chair that sat next to him. "She thought we were calling her crazy and she kept going on about how she wasn't. We just wanted her to get help but she was flying off the handle." Phoenix was growing worried for her best friend, her unusual behavior setting off all the alarm bells in her head. "Did she say anything about hurting herself?" Rooster shook his head and glared at Phoenix. "I wouldn't have given her the option of being alone if she did. She just said she wanted to be alone and that I 'Shouldn't come knocking on her door.' as she put it." Phoenix nodded, sitting in the chair next to him. "I need to talk to her, apologize and help her but I have to have a reason to see her first. She won't answer the door otherwise." Phoenix hummed when suddenly her phone rang, and the name on the screen made her gasp. "It's her." She said standing and answering, Rooster basically pressed against her to listen to the conversation. 

The entire time, she was shoving Rooster off trying to get him to give her space. Until finally she hung up, Rooster looking at her with raised brows. "You have your in." She said as she put her phone in one of her pockets. "Her period hit. She needs tampons and a new heating pad." Rooster nodded enthusiastically, willing to do anything for her. "I told her I would get it after work. Do not screw this up because if you do then she'll hate us both." He nodded, pulling Phoenix into a hug. "Oh my god, thank you Phoenix." She smiled and hugged her back. "Go the extra mile and get her favorite dish from that Italian place she loves, she loves carbs on her period." Rooster nodded and turned away before she stopped him again. "I don't think her behavior is being caused by mother nature dropping in. I still think there's something else there." He nodded, his grim features matching her. "Me too."

With that he went about his day, ready to just be done with the day. He just wanted to go home and take care of his girl, after days apart he just wanted to be in her presence. He got what she needed from the drugstore, along with a KitKat bar before heading off to the Italian restaurant and getting the food before going and getting her a simple bouquet of roses from the florist. He sped home, hoping to see her as soon as possible. His smile made his face ache as he grabbed everything making his way to her door. He debated on knocking but if she felt bad then maybe she left it unlocked, she told him she tends to do that so people can come in if they need, not that he agrees that it's safe. 

He slowly opened the door to the spotless house, looking around for her hoping he would see her before she had the chance to run him out. "Mags." He called out gently, trying not to be too loud in case she was asleep. He set the food and flowers on the coffee table, taking the bag with the tampons and heating pad upstairs with him. He peeked into her room, expecting to see her in bed but nothing, he even looked in her bathroom. His concern started growing when he didn't see her anywhere upstairs. As he came back down stairs he noticed Dahlia jumping up and down. "Hey, big girl." He said attempting to pet her but all she did was throw her head around and make her way towards the kitchen. 

He followed her, confused as to why she wouldn't let him pet her. He followed her into the kitchen, his heart stopping at the sight before him. It was only Magnolia's bare legs from her mid-thighs down but from what he could see it seemed she was face down on the floor. His body immediately reacted, sliding on his knees till he was next to her body. "Magnolia!" He called frantically, checking for a pulse and finding one but it was faint. He looked around finding a bunch of pills in the floor and a spot that looked like she vomited up stomach acid. "No. No. No. Magnolia! Please! You gotta wake up for me!" He panicked, pulling her into his arms as he leaned against her cabinets. 

He pulled out his phone, fumbling it into the floor multiple times before he finally picked it up and dialed 911. "911, what's your emergency?" He cleared his throat trying to make sure the operator could hear him clearly. "I'm at 423 Oceanside Lane in Miramar, I found my girlfriend unconscious and I think she took a bunch of her migraine pills." Saying the words out loud made him feel sick and partly responsible. "Okay sir, what's your girlfriends name?" He choked on a sob as her head rolled back in his arms, her face showing nothing but peace. "Caila Motley. Lieutenant Caila Motley." The operator hummed in acknowledgement. "Okay and do you know the exact name of the pills she took and how high the dosage was?" 

"It's Sum-something. Suma-" "Sumatriptan?" He nodded. "That's it and it's fifty milligrams a pill." He jostled Magnolia slightly, hoping she would wake up. "Okay and does she have a heart beat?" He set the phone down, finding the faint heartbeat in her neck before grabbing the phone again. "Yeah, it's faint but it's there." "Good, I have an ambulance en route. Do you want me to stay on the line?" He shook his head. If these were his last moments with her then he wanted it to just be him and her, he had things to say, things he needed her to hear. "No, thank you." They hung up and he tossed his phone to the floor immediately making sure Magnolia was wrapped up in both of his arms. 

"I'm sorry, Mags. I never should've said those things to you. It's just a house but you, you mean everything to me pretty girl. I never thought of living in a world without you, but I now realize I can't do it." This tears were a constant stream on his cheeks, his own words making him realize how dire this situation truly is. "I was considering proposing you know? My mom's sister still has a house in Virginia that has some of my stuff still in it. When she came home from Paris I wanted to go and get my mom's wedding ring. You'd love it. It's gold with a beautiful pear shaped diamond in it. Nothing could match your beauty though." He grabbed her left hand, bring her fingers up for a kiss. "It'd look perfect on your hand, where it belongs." He looked back at her blank face as more tears slipped out, a few falling onto her face which he wiped away. "I should've been here, I should've tried harder. I love you, pretty girl. Even if you hate me, I will always love you." He whispered as he shifted her body, checking her pulse again, a sigh of relief escaping as he felt the faint beating. 

He buried his face in her hair, placing a kiss to it as he heard the sirens making Dahlia rise from her guarding position next to Rooster. "Down, Dahls." The black Great Dane listened, taking her place next to Rooster her ears still up and pointed at the front door. "They're here to help you, honey. We're gonna get you help and everything is gonna be okay." He heard the door open and a voice call out. "Miramar EMS!" He leaned over to be visible from the front door. "We're in here." 

Medics and an officer rushed in, back to the kitchen where Rooster still held her limp body. "She still has a heart beat." He said and they nodded, rolling her out of his arms and onto her back on the floor. "What's her name?" One medic asked as the officer pulled Bradley to the side. "Caila Motley." Rooster watched them work, taking her vitals and such when suddenly one pulled out smelling salts. "Hey, that's not protocol." His partner called out as he opened the smelling salts, waving them under Magnolia's nose. "I don't think she OD'd." The other said when suddenly she started coughing.

Rooster's hands fell to his knees, holding himself up as he sobbed. "You woke me up." She cried out, tears streaming down her face. "Miss Motley, can you tell us where you are?" She continued to cry as Rooster pushed away from the officer, going to her. Falling on his knees next to her, taking her face in his hand. "Bradley?" He nodded, brushing some loose hairs back into her short ponytail. "It's me, pretty girl. Can you tell the medics where you are?" Her eyes flitted around before she looked to the medics. "My kitchen." She said as she started crying again. "Why are you so upset, ma'am?" One asked as she continued to cry. "You woke me up!" She sounded so pitiful, the sound almost making Rooster's heart break in two. "Why is that such a bad thing?" The other asked and she shot up into a sitting position. "I haven't slept in over sixty fucking hours! That's why!" Rooster grabbed her, holding her to his chest as he tried to calm her. 

"Were you purposefully sleeping on the floor, miss Motley?" The officer asked confused and she scoffed. "Of course not." The medics motioned for her to stand, Bradley helping her into a chair. "Then why were you in the floor?" Rooster asked and she looked down at her hands that were resting on top of the island. "I passed out." Rooster's face paled at her words. "Do you know how that happened?" She nodded, her eyes welling with tears. "I have a migraine. I went to take one of my pills for it when I thought I saw someone walking by the doorway there." She said pointing to the kitchen doorway. Rooster's blood ran cold, the door had been unlocked and anyone could've walked in off the street. His hands gripped the back of the chair, his knuckles turning white at the thought of someone else being in here with her while she was alone. 

"It startled me and I dropped the bottle and the pills went everywhere. I bent down too fast and got sick, the room was spinning and I still felt sick so I decided to lay on the ground to calm myself and wound up falling asleep, finally." The medics nodded. "Do you mind if I take a look around? Just to be safe." Magnolia sighed, rubbing her forehead but nodded anyway. "Be my guest. I'm sure it was a hallucination though." The officer nodded, walking away as the medics decided to check her for a concussion. Once they were done they packed up. "Everything seems fine. But I would recommend going to the doctor about the not sleeping and your moods." She rolled her eyes but nodded anyway. 

"I'll walk you guys out." Rooster said before following the medics to the front door. "Thank you guys, seriously." They nodded, shaking his hand as the officer joined them. "Looks all clear to me." He thanked him as one of the medics spoke up. "It really seems like she may be having a manic episode. I would take her to the doctor first thing tomorrow morning." He sighed but nodded. They left and he shut the door. How was he supposed to get her to the doctor? She'll surely refuse to go and he can't trick her, she'd never trust him again. He turned and grabbed the food before he walked back into the kitchen, seeing her with her head on the counter. "Huh, you're still here." She quipped and he couldn't help the small smile that grew on his face. "I'm not going anywhere." 

He looked down at the floor, seeing the pills were still there. "I'll clean this up and then we'll get you a shower and you can eat the food I brought." He said reaching to brush some hair from her face when she leaned away, making his heart crack slightly. "It's my house, I'll clean it up." She muttered but as she went to stand from the chair he blocked her, causing her to fall back into the seat. "Okay, stop. What I said was harsh and I'm sorry. I never should've said any of those things to you." She hung her head, fiddling with her fingers. "I was wrong. It's not my house, it's ours now. It was the second we discussed you moving in. But you can't keep shutting me out, Mags. I'm not going to let you." She picked her head up, avoiding his gaze as ore tears streamed down her face. 

"I'm so sorry for hurting you. I should've told you from the beginning but I wasn't worried about you hurting yourself." Her head snapped to him, her brows furrowed in anger or confusion. "It was hard to think about the house changing and I wanted to be there when we started. I still hadn't come to terms with the renovation, so when I walked in it was just all so overwhelming but it's no excuse for what I said." She stared into his eyes as he spoke, looking for any possible lies. "Why didn't you tell me the truth?" He shrugged. "I was worried you'd think I was weak for wanting to hold onto something like that." Her eyes immediately softened, one of her hands coming up to rest on his cheek. "Oh, Roo, no. They were your parents, there's nothing wrong with wanting to hold onto those memories." 

Tears flowed down his cheeks once again at the feeling of her soft hands on his face. They were much smaller than his but cradled his face well. He leaned into her touch as she placed a soft kiss to his chin. "I'm sorry, Roo. I've been such a bitch these past two days and-" "No you haven't." She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Yes I have. I just feel like I'm losing my mind here. I have all this energy, my moods are all over the place and I literally haven't slept in almost sixty-two hours. Something's wrong with me Rooster and I feel like I'm slipping." He pursed his lips, nodding as his forehead rested on hers. "We're going to get you some help, Mags. I promise." She took a shaky breath, scared at the simple thought of walking into a doctor's office. 

"Bradley, what if they diagnose me with something that pulls me from flying? I don't know how to do anything else. I would lose everything." A sob racked her body as he pulled her into his chest, placing a soft kiss to her forehead as she cried. "Hey, hey. No you won't, the team will always be here. I will always be here. We will figure something out, you won't be alone in this." She sobbed some more as he rocked her body back and forth until she finally calmed down. "Now, I'm going to clean this up. You're going to shower and then I'm going to feed you." She hiccupped, sitting up so she wasn't leaning against him anymore. "I need a few things that Phoenix was bringing." He scratched the back of his neck, scrunching his face at her. "That's why I'm here."

She stared at him in confusion for a minute. "I knew you wouldn't talk to me without a reason so she told me to get the stuff you needed and bring it here." His hands came up to cradle her face when he thought about her lying on the floor, his heart breaking all over again. "So many things ran through my mind when I saw you on the floor. But when I saw all those pills, I really thought I had lost you." She shook her head. "I'd never do that. I'm sorry that I scared you." He shook his head. "Don't apologize, honey." They held each other for a few more minutes before they pulled away. "Alright, go get your shower. I'll clean up and reheat the food I brought." She nodded, standing and slowly making her way upstairs. Rooster quickly picked up the pills, tossing them in the trash before cleaning the floor. 

~~~

The shower felt nice, more relaxing than anything else the last few days. I ran my hands through my hair, rinsing the shampoo out as the bathroom door opened. "Mags?" I hummed in response, his voice bringing me comfort. "Mind if I join? I'm still sweaty from training." I smiled at his question. "Yeah." I said almost too quietly. I heard him strip and I faced the shower head as he got in. I felt him carefully place a kiss on my shoulder as I washed my face, his hands gently landing on my waist. "This okay?" I nodded before turning to face him. "Why did you come back?" I asked, sliding my hands up his chest until they rested on his shoulders. 

He pulled me closer till our bodies were touching, his lips landing on my forehead. "Why wouldn't I?" He asked before grabbing my conditioner. "I was awful to you. That first night I just needed to be alone but the next day I was so angry with you and this morning too. I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again." He chuckled, his hands cradling my face. "Honey, I'm here for the long haul. I'm not going anywhere." I leaned my head on his chest as I cried. "I'm sorry, Bradley." He kissed my head, rocking me back and forth. "I'll always forgive you, pretty girl. Now come on, let's finish in here. I think I just came up with another surprise for you." I wiped the tears from my face as he started running the conditioner through my short hair. 

"You don't have to do anything for me Bradley, you've done so much today." He shook his head. "No, you're gonna love it." He said pecking my cheek. We finished our shower and I put on another one of his shirts before going downstairs. I walked in to see him put the pasta in a skillet to reheat it. "Uh uh, go sit." I furrowed my brows. "I'm not doing anything." He shook his head. "But I know you will. Now, that's heating up but you are going to park your pretty self on the couch." He said wrapping his arms around my waist, picking me up and carrying me to the couch. "Dahlia!" He called, patting the couch, encouraging her to jump onto the couch and lay her head in my lap. 

"Stay here, pretty girl." He took off our my front door, leaving it open and I looked to Dahlia with furrowed brows. "What just happened, Dahlia?" I asked her confused, she just groaned and laid across my lap. After a minute he came back in with the box of home movies and the VCR. "What are you doing?" I asked, giggling as he juggled the box. "My parents aren't here, so I'm going to do the next best thing to introduce you to my parents." He said tossing me a wink before he sat on the floor in front of the tv. "Need some help?" He shook his head. "Nope." I watched as he hooked everything up, and pulled out a tape. 

"Let me get dinner and we'll play this." I nodded as he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me to my thoughts. I still felt awful but to have a man like Bradley who decided to stick around through my craziness? If that's not god's work I don't know what is. After a few minutes he came back in, two plates in hand as well as a migraine pill and some water. "Dahlia, off." She slinked off the couch, meandering over to her bed, basically throwing herself into it. "I have never met a dog with more personality." Rooster said as he handed me my plate and meds. "She gets it from her mama." I said grinning at him. I took my meds as he sat down, pulling my feet over, tucking my toes under his thighs. He knows how cold I get and my toes always stay cold, so I'm always tucked into him in some way. 

"Now, let me show you this." He said turning on the VCR and starting the tape. "Oh, finally!" A blonde woman yelled into the camera. She had light blue eyes and short blonde hair, her voice was loud which made me smile. "NICK!" She yelled, turning the camera around. "Honey. You'll wake him up." I immediately choked on my food as I heard his voice. Rooster paused the tv and patted my back. "Honey, hey. You okay?" I took a deep breath as I cleared my throat. "We have to get there before they do. Increase speed." "We got you, Mav. Don't wait for me." "Sir, Daggers, two and four are behind schedule." I don't think I have felt religious or prayed in years, but in that moment I didn't know what else to do, so I simply bowed my head. I listened and said a silent prayer in my head, but four little words made me perk up. "Talk to me, dad." 'It'll be okay, Caila.' I shook my head. I didn't recognize the voice, it wasn't booming and thunderous as most people claim God to be. It sounded caring, strong, comforting. "Come on, kid. Don't think, just do."

"Mags." He called and I looked to him. "You'll think I'm genuinely crazy if I tell you." He shook his head, pulling me closer to kiss my forehead. "I'll never think you're crazy, just tell me." He said as he took my hand in his. "On the mission when you got behind schedule, I didn't know what else to do so I started praying." He nodded as he listened intently. "When I did, you said, 'Talk to me, dad.' and I heard this... voice. It said 'It'll be okay, Caila.' and I thought it was maybe a voice I created in my head, or god but that's highly doubtful." He nodded, squeezing my hand. I stared at the tv, a tall man with blonde a hair and brown eyes stood with the tiniest baby in his arms. "I think it was your dad." I said falling back into the couch. "You think my dad told you it would all be okay?" I nodded. "It sounds ridiculous. You know, just pretend I didn't say that." 

I felt ridiculous telling my boyfriend his dad that's been dead since 1986, spoke to me through some supernatural form of communication. "Mags, my dad is dead, he has been for a long time." I nodded. "I know and now I feel like shit for bringing it up." He set his plate down on the coffee table, pulling me into him. "No, don't feel bad. It doesn't seem so ridiculous." I furrowed my brows at him. "Once in a while when I'm struggling I think I hear my mom. But she hasn't been gone as long as dad." I stared down at my plate. "I don't think your crazy." I shrugged. "I do. This is the first time I've ever seen a video of your dad or heard his voice. How do you explain it?" He shrugged, pursing his lips. 

"Maybe he was just telling you it was going to be okay. It did turn out okay, didn't it?" I stared at him, surprised he wasn't upset with me. "After I felt like I was dying, I guess it did." He chuckled and played the video. "He spent almost ten months with me, if he's not used to my loud voice now then he never will be." We laughed at his mother's words. She moved closer, zooming in on the babies face. "Hi Bradley." My bottom lip jutted out as I looked at baby Bradley. "Oh my god you were adorable." He chuckled as we continued to watch his parents dote on him. We watched a few more videos, his first steps, his first words, his first birthday. Then he took our dishes to the kitchen while I picked out another tape. I grabbed an unmarked one and put it in and pressed play. 

It was a video of Nick and Carol, smiling into the camera. "Hi baby! So, it's your wedding day. We wanted to make this video for you now, to remind you how much we love you and we have a few words for you and whatever woman decided to marry our amazing boy!" I immediately turned it off and pulled it out, not wanting to spoil it. If we ever got married, I wanted this video to be a surprise for both of us. I grabbed a random one and popped it in as he came back, a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream in hand and two spoons. I smiled at him, rushing over and sitting next to him. "What'd you put in?" I shrugged, realizing I really didn't pay attention. "I really don't know, I just grabbed one." I said as I grabbed the pint from him. He hit play, before pulling my legs over his, gently rubbing my calves. 

Cheering started on the tv, a video showing Bradley standing on home plate at a high school baseball field. "Oh shit, this is my senior year, we made it all the way to the championships." I watched, Carol's cheering drowning out every other voice around her making me giggle. "I can see why our parent's got along, our mom's voice sat on the same decibel." He laughed loudly at my words. I watched as the Bradley on the tv swung the bat, connecting with the ball and the cheers turned to screaming. "GO BABY! GO! GO! GO!" Carol's voice screamed out as Bradley took off in a sprint. He cleared every base, diving chest first onto home plate. More cheers erupted and the camera shook as everyone around Carol jostled around. The team lifted Bradley up, carrying him across the field, making us laugh. 

The video shut off and cut back on as Carol walked towards Bradley in the dugout. "You're daddy would be so proud." She said as she pulled him into a hug. "I know, mom." I got a good look at his face, smiling  at the sight. He was adorable with his flushed cheeks, and baby face. I looked to him, admiring the difference. "What?" I smiled at him. "You looked so cute, all baby faced!" I said pinching his cheek. He pushed my hand away, smiling at me. "Imagine if we met in high school." I laughed loudly as he stared at me. "What?" I looked to him, his confused face making him look adorable. "Did you forget we have a nine year age gap?" HIs eyebrows shot up as if he remembered. "Oh shit, so you were in like the third grade when I was a high school senior." 

"This just took a weird turn." He said, looking to me. "We're both adults now and I'll be thirty next year... I'll be thirty next year!" I yelled out, realizing I was almost thirty. He laughed at me eating more ice cream. "You're getting old." I glared at him. "Sir, that means you will be one year shy of forty next year." His face fell and he capped the ice cream, launching himself across the couch and tackling me, tickling my sides. "Tired yet?" He asked when he stopped, still laying on me. I shook my head, my mood souring. "No." He sat up, pulling me with him so he was laying on his back and I was on his chest. "What if I don't sleep tonight?" I asked as he ran his fingers through my still damp hair. "Then I guess I'll tire you out." I raised a brow at him. "You realize I-" "We'll lay down a towel, it'll be okay." 

We spent the next few hours cuddling on the couch, his hands running up and down my back, trying to soothe me to sleep but it didn't work. I didn't feel like I was bursting at the seams with energy but I still wasn't sleepy. "Come on, let's get you in the bed." He said standing and pulling me with him. He held my hand all the way upstairs, where I brushed my teeth before laying in the bed. He was sitting up in the bed, not under the covers and just watching me. "Are you not laying down?" I asked and he raised a brow at me. "Do you want me to stay?" I nodded. "I think you not being here is part of the reason I haven't been sleeping. So yes, I want you to stay." He smiled at me before getting up and going to brush his teeth. 

The room was dark, usually that wouldn't bother me, as I prefer to sleep in the pitch black but tonight it did bother me. I heard something move over towards my closet, my eyes darting over to that corner. It was noise traveling from the bathroom it had to be, there was no other explanation for it. I kept my eyes on the corner, not able to look away. I continued to stare when I thought I saw a hand come out from under the closet door. I jumped over, turning on the lamp just as Bradley came out of the bathroom. "You okay?" He asked. I stared at the closet, waiting for something else to happen. 

He turned to where I was staring, before going over and throwing the door open. He flipped on the light finding nothing. "Did you see something?" He asked coming out, turning off the light and closing the door. I took a deep breath, fiddling with my fingers as I stared at the quilt on my bed. "Hey." I felt him crawl on the bed, taking a seat next to me as he turned my face to look at him. "You're not crazy. You said earlier you haven't slept in over sixty hours, that messes with your mind. If we can get you some sleep, you'll get better." I shook my head. "I'm not tired. How am I not tired? I shouldn't even be able to stand on my own." He shook his head as I started getting stressed. "Mags. Do you want me to take you to a hospital or something?" I shook my head as he brushed some hair from my face. "No, I really won't sleep there." 

"What do you want me to do?" He asked as his hand rested on my thigh. "Hold me?" He nodded, turning off the lamp and climbing in bed behind me. "You'll be okay, Mags. I've got you." He whispered as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me back into his chest. "I love you, pretty girl." He said before placing a soft kiss to the back of my neck. "I love you too, Roo." I replied as more tears streamed down my face. I laid there with my eyes closed, listening to his breathing, trying to focus on it and match it. I tried that for a while and it didn't work. I finally opened my eyes and wished I hadn't, I saw a shadow in the corner. I watched as it grew taller and taller, I knew I was hallucinating and decided to roll over and bury my face in Rooster's chest. Thankful he was there with me tonight, to help keep me sane. 

His hands shifted, one on my back the other running through my hair. I laid there breathing in his scent, it calming me down. My foot itched and I used my other foot to scratch it, not wanting to shift away from Rooster for fear I'd see something. It itched again and I was getting frustrated, scratching it. I laid there a while longer until something that felt like a hand touched my calf, making me jolt. "Hey. Shh, I got you." Rooster's sleepy voice spoke out, his arms pulling me closer. I curled my legs up, sticking my feet between his legs to keep them warm. I laid there and suddenly my body felt heavier and I was slipping in and out of consciousness. I tried to keep my breathing steady, not wanting to get excited about the oncoming drowsiness. 

"Magnolia." I buried my face in Rooster's chest, hoping he would stop saying my name. "Magnolia." It was a little louder now, so I hummed in response hoping he would stop and let me slip back into a peaceful state. "Magnolia." My head snapped up, ready to rip him a new one for keeping me awake when I heard soft snores escaping his lips. Please be sleep talking, please be sleep talking. I silently prayed, hoping he was just calling out for me in his sleep. I stared at his lips carefully, watching for any movement. "Magnolia." It was the same volume as the last one and I clenched my eyes shut, Rooster's lips never moved, in fact a louder snore escaped him as my name was called. "Nope. uh-uh." I muttered as I ever so carefully got out of bed, quietly going downstairs and into the kitchen. I pulled out the jar of Russian tea I kept, and putting some water on to boil. 

Dahlia wandered in, looking up at me in confusion. "What is wrong with me?" I asked her, she simply groaned and wandered back into the living room. I listened as her nails clicked on the hardwood until finally she groaned, telling me she laid down in her bed. I made my tea when the water was hot, sipping on it as I stood there under the light from the stove. I looked around, on high alert for anything that moved and finally something did, a shadow in the kitchen doorway. Just like the one that scared me shitless earlier. I stared in fear, as it slowly walked across the doorway, disappearing on the other side. "Mags." I heard a whisper and a sob racked my body. "Leave me alone." I muttered, setting my mug down on the counter as I covered my eyes with my free hand. I heard footsteps coming closer and I shoved myself back into the counter. "Mags." It was more clear this time and I cried, pleading with my mind to stop. It was all hallucinations, visual and auditory. 

"Mags." A had landed on my arm and I let out a scream as I jumped. "Mags, it's me." Rooster said as he grabbed my arms, keeping me from hitting him. "Mags, we have to get you some help." I nodded as he pulled me into him. "I thought you were a hallucination." He sighed and rubbed my back, rocking our bodies. "No, I'm really here, honey. What made you get up?" I sighed. "I thought I saw something in the corner. I told myself it was a hallucination and rolled over so I was facing you, then it felt like someone laid their hand on my leg which made me jump, and then something that sounded like you said my name when I was almost asleep. I thought you were sleep talking but you weren't, so I got up and came down here." He sighed, pulling me closer to him, tucking my head under his chin. "I didn't wake you, did I?" He quickly shook his head. "No, not at all. I guess I could just tell you weren't in the bed and your spot was cold. I got worried so I came looking for you. I thought you might've left or something." I shook my head. 

"No, I'm here." He sighed, pressing his lips to my forehead. "I'm taking the day off tomorrow, and I'm taking you to the doctor." I shook my head. "You don't have to, Bradley. I can take myself."  He shook his head. "Mm, no you can't. You shouldn't be driving so I will take you first thing in the morning." I sighed, knowing I wouldn't win and not having the energy to argue. "Thank you, Roo. I appreciate it." He nodded, kissing my head. "I'll always be here, Mags." Suddenly he picked me up bridal style. "Now, come on. Let's see if we can't get you to sleep." He took me back upstairs, laying me in the bed before crawling in and pulling my head into his chest. While I still didn't sleep, I kept my ear to his chest, his heartbeat drowning out all other noises and allowing me to at least lie next to him in peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@mak-32 @rosiahills22 @dhwanishah09

[puffpasstea]

Help!

A/N: here’s an overly specific SATELLITE blurb about a situation I’m currently dealing with. Except, despite my best efforts, I don’t currently live with Harry Styles, so my thing in real life has a slightly different ending. Mostly writing this for myself, not gonna lie, lol. But I hope it can bring someone some comfort too.

summary: Alice can’t get her antidepressants and shit happens. This is the unglamorous, unromantic side of mental illness. warnings: mentions of mental illness, prescription meds, Harry being a supportive partner. —

I pushed my bangs off my forehead, dotting moisturizer onto the outlines of my face and rubbing it in. I could hear the faint sound of Harry’s singing, downstairs, in the kitchen. He’d clearly made it to The Beatles playlist, which means he’s making breakfast.

I need somebody (Help!)

not just anybody (Help!)

you know I need someone

heeelppp!

I closed my eyes, smiling, as I listened to him belt out alongside John Lennon on the speakers. He’d been on a Beatles kick lately. He and Mitch were rediscovering the Lennon-McCartney hits, but they got all flustered and weird whenever I said that their partnership was kind of similar, minus the years of toxic rivalry. this new found obsession gave me comfort, thought. It’d become something of a routine for Harry to listen to the same songs every morning. I loved hearing him sing along as I got ready for the day and tracking his activity by the song that he had reached.

I opened the medicine cabinet and reached for my morning meds. The bottle felt light, I was running low, so I made a mental note to call my psychiatrist later today. ———

Help me if you can, I’m feeling dowwwnnn

and I do appreciate you being ‘rounnndd

In the kitchen, Harry hummed to himself, flipping the omelette in the pan, and gyrating his hips the way he usually did onstage. He was still in his sweaty running clothes, but boy did he look good.

I stood in the doorway, watching him, and wondering how I got so lucky. He was perfect. Harry turned around, getting startled when he saw me, but not for long. The surprise immediately gave way to mischief. He smiled, raising an eyebrow and dancing his way towards me. With his body facing mine, he reached a hand behind him, turning the stove off, and then wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close. “Dance with me.” He demanded.

“W-what?” I laughed, kissing his lips. “You stink” “C’mon, Matilda, dance with me.”

Won’t you please, please help meee?!

—

I wasn’t the kind of person to congratulate herself very often, mostly because I always found faults within even my biggest accomplishments, but I must admit, I was proud of myself this time. for managing to remember the refill I needed, getting over my anxiety long enough to schedule the follow up without any external help, and even making sure it would get refilled while I still had a few pills in my older bottle. In all my years of being on antidepressants, this had never happened. I usually put off making the calls because of how anxious they all made me, waited until the last possible moment, when I was one pill away from running out, and then having to pay a whole lot of extra money for some temporary pills to tide me over. But, it appeared Harry’s encouragement and support were starting to rub off on me. For once, I had my shit together. Or so I thought. "I’m sorry what?! What do you mean you have no record of the prescription? No, it’s fine. I’ll call my doctor. Thank you.”

just my luck. I felt heart racing in my chest. My breath quickened, my hands felt clammy. I can’t do this…

—

“honey, I’m homeeee!” Harry’s voice announced in the distance. As always, he was back from his morning run and would probably want to make breakfast soon. I ran back upstairs and jumped into bed quickly, shutting my eyes and pretending to be asleep. Moments later, Harry walked in. “oh, she’s asleep.” He whispered to himself. He made his way over to my side of the bed, pulling the blankets over me and tucking me in. The scent of his sweaty workout hung in the air as he leaned over and gave my forehead a quick kiss. I’m a horrible person for lying to him…

—

“Babe? Hand me the salt please?” My hands shook as I reached into the spice cabinet and grabbed the salt container. I waited a moment for it to steady before turning towards Harry, but it was too late. He’d noticed. “What was that?” damn him and his attention to detail. “what was what?” Maybe if I pretended not to know what he’s talking about…

“Your hands are shaking. Look! Do you seriously not feel that?” The salt container slipped out of my hand and went crashing into the ground.

“fuck!” I jumped as the shards of glass hit my leg. “you alright?”

“yes, god! I’ll clean it up okay? Let it go already!”

Harry frowned, staring at me, no doubt confused by my overreaction.

I rushed to the broom and began to busy myself with cleanup, trying my best not to focus on the fact that Harry was still fixated on me.

“what’s the matter, Alice? Talk to me.”

shit. Now he wanted to talk.

when I said nothing, Harry walked over to me and grabbed the broom, prying it out of my hands and setting it aside. “Look at me. Why won’t you look at me? Alice! What’s going on with you?”

“nothing.” I whispered, barely loud enough for Harry to hear. “it’s clearly not nothing, baby.” His hand cupped my face, gently tilting it so my eyes would meet his. “Is - is this about the other night? Cuz, if it is…you know, I don’t care about that…it’s no big deal!”

“the other night?” It took me a moment to figure out what he was talking about. “Oh, god, no! Harry, no!” I pushed his hand off my face, turning away from him, and tiptoeing around the glass remains of the salt container to find a seat at the dining table. “so, you couldn’t cum. Big fuckin deal. Happens to the best of us! It’s no reason to be embarrassed, really.”

“Oh my god, shut up, Harry, will you” as soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized how rude I was being. “Sorry.”

Harry followed me, taking a seat next to me. He had clearly run out of things to say, so he stared at me expectantly, awaiting some kind of explanation.

“I, uh, look,” I cleared my throat. “Headaches, anxiety, dizziness, nausea, uncontrollable shaking, flu-like symptoms including chills and body aches, irritability, difficulty getting and maintaining arousal….” I was out of breath and positively blushing. So, I paused, looking away from Harry’s intense gaze. His brows furrowed, shaking his head in confusion.

“these are all symptoms of withdrawal.” I said matter-of-factly.

“sorry, withdrawal?”

“from my antidepressants.”

“you- you haven’t been taking your meds?” His expression had now changed from confusion to concern.

“I haven’t been able to!” The frustration that I’d been refusing to confront for days now bubbled to the surface. I exhaled loudly, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

“Why, why not?”

“I’ve run out….and, I don’t know. I called my doctor. She said she sent the prescription over to the pharmacy, but-“ I was full on sobbing now. harry, to his credit, jumped right into action, pulling me out of my chair and onto his lap, rubbing my back. I let myself cry for a second before catching my breath and speaking again “every time I call the pharmacy they say I need to tell her to do it again. And, I- I tried. Her secretary doesn’t- she doesn’t-“

“breathe, baby, breathe.” Harry squeezed my shoulders gently.

“I keep trying to explain to her, but she doesn’t get it. And I’m so bad at this confrontation thing…I get so anxious and….”

I buried my face into Harry chest, sobbing like a child. He sat there, completely still except for the hand that continued to rub my back soothingly.

“honey, why didn’t you say anything?” He finally asked when my cries had died down.

“it’s embarrassing, Harry! It’s, like, so dumb. I should be able to do this one thing by myself. I didn’t know how to tell you that I’d failed to obtain a simple fucking refill.”

“‘S not dumb-“

“oh but it is!! Why would you wanna be with someone who can’t sort out her own problems and cries all over your clothes at the most minor of inconveniences. How exhausting is that?!”

“Baby, this isn’t minor.” The hand that had been rubbing my back suddenly stopped. He used to to pull me away so he could look into my eyes as he spoke. “Alice, you need this medicine to function. How are you supposed to sort it out on your own if literally you can’t function? Hmm? This isn’t like your vitamins or whatever. Miss a day and it’s no big deal…this is like the biggest deal!”

hearing him explain it made everything sound logical, in my head, though, I felt like a helpless idiot who could get dumped for mentioning it out loud. “does that make sense? Plus, it’s what I’m here for. You can tell me these things, baby. I can help. I can call on your behalf and sort it out.”

I nodded, wiping the stray tears in my eyes with the back of my arm. “Guess I just don’t know how to ask for help, sometimes.”

“It’s simple, really, you can just say ‘help! I need somebody…help! Not just any body’” I rolled my eyes, shoving my elbow into his chest.

Harry laughed, continuing to sing. “Help! I need someone. heeeelp!”

“alright, John Lennon. I get it. So, could you please help me?” “it would be my pleasure.”

[bread-tab]

as of this week i've made appointments to start seeing a new doctor AND a new therapist.

been nearly a year since i walked out on my old shitty therapist. very interesting year. a lot happening (a LOT a lot, oh my god). some bad. some very bad. but a lot of very very good. way more good than expected. more than i could have imagined, really, when i was trying—two years ago when i saw the change coming, looming and blocking out all beyond it like a total wave, and i was mainly grieving and terrified.

also a lot of self-reflection, and on the flip side a lot of getting lost in the moment and forgetting myself.

(it's like how, when i'm unmedicated (like now), i can remember what it's like for my brain to be working better, but i can't really remember until i'm back on meds and all the neural pathways line up again. and yes here i am comparing talking to emotionally intelligent people (professionals) with being on prescription drugs. c'est la vie)

before this i had gone through around five years of therapy and had never taken a significant break. i got used to having a companion in my introspective adventures. a touchstone to keep me from wandering back into all my old bad habits. i was so afraid to give that up.

in the end, i didn't have much choice. so i got up and walked out and started walking my lonely road (as green day might put it) again. but this time, i found, i had the ghosts of therapists past walking with me. it was not at all the same.

i didn't realize how much i had changed until i could compare those two oh-so-different solitudes.

because, in the time that therapy was working for me, i learned so much. i learned it and damn well applied it. how to cry in front of someone. how to be upset and yet not feel like the world was ending. how to let my emotions exist. how to let the world exist and face the shape of my life without trying to force it to change. how to talk to someone. how to build trust, like a bridge, with my own two hands.

i associated all that with being in therapy; i didn't know it had become part of me.

my dear good therapist taught me how to ask for help. my shitty therapist taught me some other stuff which i don't think she intended to; and in the midst of that mess of mixed gems and slag it emerged: the clarity of contrast, to appreciate all i had learned and was capable of. the motivation of spite (justice!) to seize back my agency:

"i can do a better job at this

(the business of helping myself)

than you."

i would not choose to make anyone else use that method to learn, but it was what i had, and i damn well learned. i know better. i know myself better. i don't need to feel insecure about this. i am done with the starvation of waiting for cruel people's mercy.

(i am on the hunt for a kinder world, and i am a persistence predator.)

it is strange to anticipate this new venture into therapy, with all my changed motivation. i have my guard so far up. yet i am somehow, simultaneously, ready to open up, to be (in the eyes of my past self) unfathomably honest and extend enough of an olive branch of vulnerability to form a genuine connection, to tackle both my truest struggles and my "unacceptable" flaws. a surreal synthesis.

i am ready to ask for help and i am ready to walk out if i'm not getting it. i'm done wasting time. my fears and desires have narrowed down to the knife-edge of needing to be a better person.

i am ready to get to work.

[cycloptics]

This is basically a diary entry that gets dark but maybe it’s onto something? I needed it okay

Basically I’m just talking about art and being autistic and quitting my job after hitting burnout

And also some personal traumatic shit I guess

Please don’t feel inclined to read this if you don’t want to I think I just needed to put out my real fucking feelings into the world ya know?

Something really crazy has happened since I hit burnout.

I spent forever hating every piece of art I did, whether it was painting, drawing, or nail art. I’ve hated all of it, never thought I was good enough. I still don’t, of course, but I do atleast feel like I see potential during the process.

But now, since I’ve got the support of people who love my work, or love me, I’m able to look at it again (after a break of hyperfocus) and I can say “okay.. wow, that’s pretty good. I like that.” And that’s fucking HUGE! But what’s even crazier is I looked back and old work I did, work that sat in my sketchbooks abandoned forever, and I am like holy shit. I did that. And I love that.

I painted this in 2019-2020, I’m not even sure when, but I remember being in my apartment, I remember this being one of those pieces where I was desperate to make art. I desperately looked for ways to make a living doing art, just so I’d be able to paint. I bought a Wacom pen and a laptop, I was determined to learn digital art.. and I hated it. Then I bought an iPad and Apple Pencil, still didn’t love digital art. Then someone said “you should do nails” and I thought it was perfect. Then I went to school and did that. Worked my ass off. Went to the best salon in my area and worked there, killing myself and burning myself out in the process, trying to be perfect.

**TW: death, PTSD, loss of a pet, loss of a parent, hospitals**

Then my cat got sick, and even though I syringe fed him prescription food and cat pedialyte, gave him meds, and tried everything, he died.

Then a week later my dad tore his Achilles and ended up in the hospital with 2 DVTs and a PE. He then fought for 2 months to stay alive for us. I watched my dad code and survive multiple times, spent Christmas in ICU with him on a bipap to breathe, watched him lose his fucking mind, praying to god, almost fighting god, seizing, shaking, crying, desperately kissing me and my brothers heads while not being able to say anything other than beg god. I tried everything I could to bring his mind back, because it was my dads biggest fuckin fear was losing his mind. I brought pictures and showed him.. the guilt I feel for going to work while my dad was in the fucking hospital. The calls I got. The way he begged me to break him out of there, and I will always regret not doing that. I’ll never forget it the faces my dad made, the sounds he made, when delirium took over and he was so scared, and looked nothing like himself. Covered head to toe in bruises and restrained to the bed, because they tried to put a Bipap on him when he was sleeping. I’ll never forget seeing how broken my dad was, a man who was so prideful and stubborn, and whose biggest nightmare came true when his youngest daughter had to help him use the bathroom. The way my dad never wanted to seem weak, and the way my stepmom humiliated him. The way she made him sound so pathetic to the doctors that they gave him too much oxygen constantly, because she said he couldn’t do anything without almost suffocating. The way she lied and said he was on 2 liters every night, because that’s how she got her oxygen. She was on 2 liters. My dad refused to use it. The way that him getting too much oxygen made his COPD worse. How that’s what ended up being the cause of death. Not the blood clots that I was so terrified of, that it was COPD. I’ll never forget New Year’s Day and me having full blown OCD had texted everyone in my family begging them not to do laundry because it would mean my dad would die, and finding out my stepmom did laundry because she isn’t superstitious.. then that day finding out my dad was never gonna make it out. I’ll never forget moving to comfort care, and trying to make sure my dad heard all his favorite songs as we all said goodbye to him, or the fact that when it came down to it, my dad was taken off of everything and still refused to die in front of his kids. That my brother made us leave. And he died soon after we left the room. I’ll never forget falling asleep and swearing I’d hear his voice. Crying to Al green in my car. Going fully nonverbal after he died. I thought I knew death because my mom died, but I was wrong. I didn’t know death was so fucking UGLY.

Probably the worst part of death is finding out that it’s so fucking gutwrenchingly ugly. it’s so rarely peaceful. The portrayals I saw of it or heard of it, those were coping mechanisms from grieving people just hiding the reality of it.

I also can’t forgive my stepmom for cremating my dad when he had a literal plot next to my mom, with a headstone my grandfather carved (family biz was monuments) or the fact that she told everyone he didn’t want a funeral.

My dad would never have deprived his kids of the opportunity to grieve him properly.

So I don’t have his ashes, we never did any service, and I’m still pretty fucking fucked up from it.

Then two weeks later one of my best friends died, she was the same age my mom was, with kids the same ages me and my brothers were when my mom died, and she died suddenly with no warning, just like my mom. Her parents called me to tell me. Her dad a week before had reached out to see how I was doing when my dad passed. The universe really is funny that way.

Then another friend died, liver failure. Fucking what? And I couldn’t go to that funeral because I had to work, and I had already taken off too much time for all the other deaths. Couldn’t be the sad employee with all the dead friends and family members apparently. And it gnawed at me that I let work keep me from being with my dad when he was dying, that I missed a funeral because of the pressure to be at work, that I was having breakdowns during nail appointments and only heard about how fucking slow I was.

So I quit my fuckin job. And I regret nothing.

Am I broke as fuck? YES. Have I figured out how to make money for real? Nope. Have I listed anything? Nope. But I will.

Because burnout really taught me that I know what my real passion is in life and what makes me happy, and it’s fucking paint. And art supplies. And doodles. And hyper focusing on something and picking it apart for hours and not having someone over my shoulder telling me I’m too slow, or it’s not good enough.

I’m still in burnout, but if I didn’t hit it, I’d never have allowed myself to heal. I’d never have let myself focus on my actual needs, because I never let them matter. Just had to be a machine that did perfect work to make money for others while I took enough to pay my bills.

And tbh, I’m fine with only getting by, as long as I am doing something I actually enjoy.

Anyway. This started about me realizing that I don’t absolutely suck at art, but I think I really just needed to let out all of these feelings without worrying about anyone else’s. I people pleased through grief. What a dumb thing to do. Fuck masking. Fuck it. I’m done.

[cammie-morgan-goode]

Hello!!! Can you plz write something about Zammie's first valentine's as an official couple? Tysm, love you and your wroks 🫶♥️♥️♥️

Cammie hadn’t thought about Valentine’s Day since her dad’s disappearance. He would bring her and her mom a rose each and a box of chocolates. Her mom would laugh and eat hers while Matt and Cammie would share the pieces of chocolate, laying on the floor on their stomachs in the living room.

Valentine’s Day was bittersweet and a holiday that her father had said was overrated. She hadn’t cared, besides she never had a reason to celebrate it. Cammie Morgan had never had a boyfriend for Valentine’s Day, until this year.

She didn’t know whether or not she had to get Zach a gift. Did she need to get him chocolates or make him a card? Cammie didn’t know. Zach hadn’t said anything about the holiday so did that give her a free pass? Or was it a surprise and she’d show up empty handed looking like a jerk?

Walking the halls of the mansion was different. Girls handed cards and various items made of chocolate and strawberries to each other. Valentine’s Day at the Gallagher Academy was just a day to celebrate the friendships within the ivory walls. (And a day to steal some ice cream and chocolate from the cafeteria without worrying about burning it off in P&E)

Cammie racked her brain for the perfect gift. The only way to get Zach something was to sneak out of the mansion and pick something up from Roseville. That was her next best bet.

So she enlisted the help of her friends. Bex would be her partner in crime. Liz would work the comms. And Macey would stay back at the mansion to make sure that nobody would notice them missing.

On February 13th, operative’s Morgan, Baxter, and Sutton left the walls of the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women at 1800 hours, skipping dinner which operative Morgan was very upset about.

Shopping for a gift for your boyfriend in the town of your ex boyfriend is completely new territory.

Bex took one side of the street and Liz followed Cammie on the other. It was safer for Bex to be alone than it was for Liz. (Liz once got lost in a Walmart in Texas for two hours!)

“So what are we thinkin, Cam?” Liz asked, looking up at her best friend. “What about a tie to match his eyes? Or a new pair of socks? You can never have too many socks! Because you always get that one hole by your heel and then another by—-“

“I got it, Lizzie. Thank you.” Cammie says, cutting her off. Liz had a tendency to rattle… a lot.

Zach wasn’t the type to wear a tie. Also as far as Cammie knew, Zach had a ton of socks. Right?

So going from one shop to another, Cammie and Liz searched high and low for the perfect gift for Zach. However, nothing stood out to Cam. Zach didn’t need deodorant or shaving cream. He didn’t need a prescription for back pain. (Although she did need some allergy meds. It’s so not attractive to keep sniffling as you’re talking!)

Operatives Morgan and Sutton came back to the gazebo at 1925 hours empty handed much to Operative Morgan’s disappointment. Although Operative Sutton did get a magazine from Tiger Beat.

“Maybe Zach forgot about Valentine’s Day. Statistically men always forget major important holidays.” Liz said.

Cammie shrugged. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe she was only making it a big deal. After all they hadn’t even established the whole gift giving process! Wasn’t that the one of the first things that gets talked about? Major holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries?

“I’m sure it’ll be okay, Cam. We told Bex we’d be back here at 7:30. Where is she?”

Liz was right. Bex was nowhere to be seen. Cammie scanned the street, looking for her best friend. It wasn’t like Bex to be late…. Usually.

“Didn’t I tell you she was beautiful?”

Cammie spins around and there’s Bex. And Zach.

And Cammie is totally empty handed.

Zach makes his way towards Cam and offers her his hand. Cammie looks back at Bex and she winks which makes Cammie feel a little bit better.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at school?” Cam asks.

“I can ask you the same question, Gallagher Girl.” Zach shrugs. “If I got the dates right, tomorrow is a certain heart holiday.” Cammie follows next to Zach, both of them holding hands.

Part of Cammie wondered where Bex and Liz would wander off too. But she didn’t truly care. Not now.

So obviously Zach hadn’t forgotten. And Cammie still didn’t have anything to give him. Girlfriend points were severely lacking.

“Is that so?” Cam says and Zach laughs. He actually laughs.

“Did you think I would forget?” Zach glances at her while they walk.

And then they come to a stop.

Again.

“No but I—“ Cammie cuts herself off.

In front of them in the gazebo was a blanket with flowers and chocolates placed on top. It was simple. It was perfect. How had Zach accomplished this?

So Cammie follows Zach and they sit on the blanket. It’s quiet. It’s perfect. And maybe just maybe… Cammie will start to like Valentine’s Day.

(Written by: @cammie-morgan-goode)