#brandon foster

- mariana is more like the cool big sister, but she really wants to be one of callie's carers. stef and lena won't let her because they think she's too young for a responsibility like that

- jude knows about it, but callie tries her best to separate him from it. he hasn't seen her regress since they were in their last foster home

- she tends to go to brandon more than stef just because she doesn't like being perceived when she's little, and when she's with stef, lena is usually also around, and all the kids come bother them

- to go w that, baby callie likes quiet. even the littlest sounds will tend to overwhelm her if they're even slightly too loud

- loves the little mermaid, obviously

- sucks her thumb and rubs her nose just like robert said she did when she was a kid

- she's very jumpy and scared of everything. she'll usually stay in brandon's room because she feels safer in there and he doesn't share it with anyone

- clingy baby. she needs physical contact at all times, otherwise she'll think she's being abandoned again and she'll get really fussy. being in the same room isn't enough, you need to hold her

- she does use pull ups, but usually only at night because she tends to have accidents from nightmares, and she's more prone to those when she's little. if she's regressed below 2, she has a pull up at all times

- she has a paci, but she doesn't use it unless a carer or mariana tells her to. mariana is good at getting her to use it simply because she thinks the little looks adorable with it, and she can baby talk her way into getting callie to take it without a fight. but brandon doesn't make her, even though he knows she shouldn't be sucking her thumb. stef can get her to take it, but that's because she's a bit more firm about it

- when she does have her paci, she gets attached to it and won't take it out until she's big again. try to take it away and it will get messy fast

- when she has the paci, she loves paci kisses

- hates pants and will avoid wearing them whenever she can. prefers just a shirt or sweater (usually a carer's) with a pull up or underwear, but if she's not in someone's room she has to at least have shorts on

- has one stuffed animal, a fluffy dog. she refuses to have any more than that but she won't say why

- sippy cup user, she has a whole collection

- she can sleep for hours if she doesn't have a nightmare. like she will be knocked out for 12 hours if given the opportunity. usually stef and brandon will let her, but lena hates it. she doesn't think anybody should be asleep for that long, and she's fully convinced it messes with her sleep schedule. it literally doesn't, callie can fall asleep anytime anywhere.

- she doesn't really say full words, she just babbles and makes little sounds

- chews on everything. sweater sleeves are her #1 victim

The second session felt worse than the first. At least last time, Lena was there. Now, I was alone. I sat stiffly on the couch, arms crossed, my leg bouncing. Dr. Reynolds sat across from me, with the same calm expression on his face, as if he wasn’t phased by how tense I was. 

“How are you feeling today, Y/N?” 

I shrugged. “Fine.” 

He hummed. “Alright. Last time, you mentioned feeling like a burden. I want to explore that a little more, if that’s okay.” 

I tensed but didn’t say no.

“Tell me about your foster homes. What were they like?” 

I scoffed. “You mean the ones that just wanted a paycheck? Or the ones that barely tolerated me? Or maybe the ones that sent us back because they think I’m some defective product?” 

Dr. Reynolds didn’t react, just nodded. “It sounds like you felt unwanted.” 

I swallowed hard. “Yeah, no shit.” 

He stayed quiet for a moment before asking. “Did any of them make you feel safe?” 

I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head. 

“Safe?” I repeated bitterly. 

“Safe wasn’t a thing in foster care. It was knowing no one actually gave a damn about me.” My voice was rising, and my breathing getting faster. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. 

Dr. Reynolds watched me carefully. “You’re angry.” 

“No shit, Sherlock!” I snapped, glaring at him. 

“What, you think talking about this is gonna make me feel better? That digging up all this crap is gonna help?” 

“I think understanding your anger will.” His voice was still calm, even as mine was shaking. 

“Your anger isn’t the problem, Y/N. It’s what you do with it that matters.” 

I grit my teeth, my chest tightening. “What am I supposed to do? Just pretend I’m not pisssed all the time? 

“No.” He said simply. “But you can learn to control it instead of letting it control you.” 

I scoffed. “Yeah? And how am I supposed to do that?” 

Dr. Reynolds leaned forward slightly. “There are a few techniques we can try. Have you ever heard of grounding exercises?” 

I frowned. “Like… standing on the ground?” 

He almost smiled. “Not exactly. It’s a way to bring yourself back when you feel overwhelmed. One method is the 5-4-3-2-1 technique. You focus on five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. It helped your mind slow down.” 

I let out a slow breath, still tense. “And that’s supposed to magically fix me?” 

“There’s nothing to fix, Y/N.” His voice was firm but gentle. 

“Your feelings aren’t wrong. But I want to help you find ways to handle them that don’t hurt you or other people.” I stared at the floor, my hands still trembling. 

“Would you be willing to try?” 

I hesitated, then slowly unclenched my fists, taking a shaky breath. 

“...Maybe.” 

When I stepped out of Dr. Reynold’s office, I felt like I had just run a marathon. My body was exhausted, my head was pounding, and my chest was still tight from holding in all that anger. I didn’t even know what I was supposed to do with everything he said. Lena was waiting for me in the lobby, scrolling through her phone. When she looked and saw me, her eyes immediately scanned my face like she was trying to figure out if I was okay. 

I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Can we just go?” 

She didn’t push, just nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

The ride home was quiet, aside from the hum of the radio. I stared out the window, still gripping onto the tension in my chest, even though the session was over. Lena didn’t say anything, but I could feel her glancing at me every now and then. When we got back to the house, I barely had a chance to take my shoes off before Callie popped her head around the corner. 

“How’d it go?” She asked, her voice gentle but curious. 

I shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “It was fine.” 

Callie frowned. “That’s all you’re gonna say?” 

What else is there to say?” I muttered, kicking off my shoes and heading for the stairs. 

“Y/N-” 

“I’m gonna go lie down.” I interrupted, already halfway up. 

I didn’t wait for a response. I just shut my bedroom door behind me and flopped onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My hands were still shaking. My head was still racing. I clenched my fists again. 

Five things I can see… 

The ceiling. The window. My hoodie on the chair. The lightbulb. The crack in the wall from when I punched it. 

Four things I can touch… 

The blanket. My pillow. The cool metal of my belt buckle. The rough fabric of my jeans. 

Three things I can hear… 

The hum of the heater. Callie and Lena talking downstairs. A car passing outside. 

Two things I can smell… 

My shampoo. The faint scent of coffee from this morning. 

One thing I can taste… 

The lingering bitterness of my own frustration. 

I exhaled, my hands slowly unclenching. The shaking lessened, just a little. Maybe this wasn’t complete bullshit after all.