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voiceswithoutlips · 4 years ago

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Calico - Chapter Eight

— pairing: Hybrid ot7 x Human Reader (Female) — genre: hybrid AU, fluff, angst, slow burn (like real slow), eventual smut — word count: 3k — Rating: G — warnings: Slight mention of past abuse, description of a panic attack. — beta: Thank you @taegularities and @joheunsaram <3

Tag List || Masterlist || Schedule

— chapter summary:

Y/N is having a hard day, who will comfort her?

— A/N: Guys, I’m so bad at summaries, if this was an exam my grades would’ve been in the negative. Anyway, welcome to the new chapter! I know I was supposed to post fallen, but somehow I ended up writing Calico instead.

I’ve had a bad case of writer’s block this week so writing this chapter was really painful, words refused to come out of my brain xD I hope you like it! You guys have been so awesome, all your feedback is really helpful. Thank you so much <3

— taglist: @lovelyseomin @anaac28 @ghostkat23 @btswdwsmhrdt @sweeneyblue1 @luvtaeha @taegularities @ aajames217 @ littlewolfieposts @nochujeonjk @hamiltrashlebo @minyoonsh @hoebii @ sunshinee0-0 @egm09 @cstobitk @splaterparty0-0 @missseoulite @mirawi-fox @sea-nevermind-enthusiast @hemmofluke @seaoffangirling @gee-nee @woopetals @secretbangtnn @vminkook-ownsme

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 3.5 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8.5

I made my way downstairs in search of breakfast. Ice cream, that’s what I needed. It was that kind of a day. I was tired, jet lagged, and the tension in the house had me on edge. The flight home was fairly uneventful, except for the part where Jimin had gotten scared of flying. He had asked to hold my hand, but by the time we were in the air, the hybrid was practically sitting on my lap. Not that I minded, he was hella cuddly and his purring was downright therapeutic.

When I had asked Jungkook, if it would be okay to bring the newer hybrids home, the bunny had sounded excited, but as soon as we had gotten home, the mood had suddenly shifted. It was not the welcome I was expecting.

First, Jungkook’s hair was the color of the rainbow. His beautiful black locks were turned into a colorful mess, his white bunny ears poking out of it in stark contrast. It was a riot of colors, artfully mixed together, and I felt like I was looking at rainbow pasta. Not that the bunny didn’t pull it off, he looked really cute in it, but somehow I had a raging suspicion that it hadn’t been Jungkook’s idea.

Then, there was the growling match. I had never seen Jungkook so aggressive before. The usually sweet and well behaved bunny had started growling at Jimin as soon as we’d entered the house.. That had set off a chain reaction with Namjoon and Seokjin joining in to protect their younger packmate.

On top of that, I had to go to Seoul for three days to take care of business. I had to visit the main office to attend a few meetings and sign some papers. The whole time I felt guilty about leaving the hybrids alone. I was constantly worried that somehow they’d end up fighting. By the time I came back, somehow, someway, Jason had managed to convince Jimin to dye his hair pink. He was on a warpath.

And lastly, there was the issue of a certain stuffed penguin that went missing - my nights were sleepless without him. All in all, this had to have been one of the shittiest weeks, and it felt like I was losing my grip on reality.

I stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing my eyes, struggling to keep them open. Unlike Jason, who was cheerfully humming, I was not a morning person. Seokjin was busy near the stove, cooking something and by the smell wafting from the pan, I could tell that it was something delicious. I had thanked every existing god when I’d learned that the sugar glider hybrid was actually an excellent chef. The first morning, he had seen Jason cook breakfast, he’d been horrified, promptly taking over the kitchen after that. Even Jungkook had begrudgingly ate his food.

My stomach grumbled as I peered in the pan. Kimchi fried rice, delicious. Unlike Jimin and Jungkook, the two older hybrids weren’t really that affectionate. I wondered if it was because they weren’t used to me yet or if they just had a different temperament. I needed to do more research on that.

I plopped down on the chair with a groan, resting my head on the counter, hands securely wrapped around my stomach. Jason gave me an enthusiastic “good morning” and I shot him a middle finger, too tired to curse at him. The bastard chuckled.

I was debating if I should stab him with a fork when I felt hands wrapping around my waist, long fingers intertwined with mine. Jungkook bent down to nuzzle the side of my face. His muscular body pressed close. My lips curled into a small smile as I made small happy noises. My brain wasn’t awake enough to form coherent sentences yet. I needed my cup of coffee or better yet, some delicious ice cream.

Jungkook’s arms tightened around me possessively, I could feel the vibrations in his chest as he let out a low growl. I opened my eyes to see Jimin standing near the chair, looking distressed, hands balled into fists at his sides. His tail was swishing rapidly in agitation, ears flattened to his head. He was biting his lower lip, trying his best not to respond to Jungkook’s hostility.

“Bunny no,” I croaked, patting his hands, my voice thick with sleep. I lifted my head, extending a hand to Jimin. Jungkook took his cue and reluctantly let me go, keeping hold of my other hand. Jimin grabbed my hand and with his other one checked my forehead, a worried look on his face.

“Are you sick?” he asked, gnawing on his lip.

“I’m just sleepy.” He giggled at my pout and graced me with a forehead kiss. He sat down next to me, and now I was sandwiched between two hybrids who were holding my hands, glaring daggers at each other. I rested my forehead on the counter with a sigh. What was I going to do with them?

Once again I was in a dilemma. I could scold them and make them shake hands, like a couple of kids, or I could let them handle it on their own, like adults. Taking care of four hybrids was tiring. I shot a quick glance at Seokjin, who was now setting up the table; he was ignoring the two younger hybrids in front of him, but his tail was curled tightly, ears flat. It seemed as if he was tense too.

“Guys, I need breakfast,” I said, reluctantly pulling my hands from their grip. I made my way to the fridge to grab a tub of my favorite ice cream, ignoring the stares that the hybrids were giving me. I had to stop myself from pulling Jason’s ear as I passed him, not now Y/N. The revenge for ruining Jungkook’s hair had to be elaborately planned, something memorable, just like old days. Like the time when I had super glued his shirt cuffs closed, so he couldn't put his hands through the sleeves. He had started this war, I was going to finish it.

“I like your garden!” Namjoon said as he walked in through the back door. Ears perked up, an excited glint in his eyes. I didn’t even know he was out there. I wondered if he could help me with the hybrid situation, he was a pack leader after all. He had informed me about hybrid pack dynamics on the plane while I cuddled a sleepy Jimin. Apparently he was their alpha, the leader of their pack, Seokjin was second in command and Jimin was their maknae. He was excited to meet Jungkook, since he was a rabbit hybrid, they're usually very docile and friendly. Needless to say, we had both been shocked at the bunny's behavior.

“I’m glad you like it. Maybe you could help me with it?”

“Really? I would love to!”

We all moved to the seldom used dining table for breakfast - now that there were six of us, the kitchen counter was too small to occupy us all. I debated where to sit, I didn't want to take sides in the hybrid cold war, so I chose to sit at the head of the table, safe middle ground. I knew Jungkook would want to share the ice cream. I wondered if the other hybrids would too, so I had brought extra spoons, just in case.

"Seokjin, this is delicious!" Jason said as soon as he took a bite of the fried rice. "Where did you learn to cook like this?" I couldn't help but smile at the hint of envy in his voice.

"Madame hired a professional chef to teach me when she found out I liked to cook," he said shyly, ears turning pink from all the attention. It was his cutest trait: whenever someone looked at him, his ears would start to redden.

"That was nice of her," I said dryly, the distaste apparent in my tone.

"She was really nice," Namjoon said pointedly, clearly disliking my tone.

“Clair was kind, she saved us from our previous owners and gave us a home,” Jimin joined him.

"Oh?" Jason said, trying to coax some details. The three hybrids shared a quick look. Jungkook had abandoned his fried rice and was digging into my ice cream, his ears perked, listening in on the conversation.

“My first owner was a gambler, but he didn’t play poker. He and his rich friends were into blood sports. They had their own dog fighting ring. He had raised me since I was a pup, trained me to be a fighter, forced me to participate. One day, Clair saw me at a party and she wanted to buy me, she offered him so much money that he couldn’t refuse,” Namjoon finished with a sad smile. I wanted to go and hug him, but I was sure the hybrid wouldn’t welcome the gesture.

“I…” Jimin paused, looking down at his hands. “The lady who raised me, she brought me clients. She’d sell me to people… sometimes it was for a night, sometimes it was more. She used to tell me that I was her lucky charm. Clair rescued me from her, she was really kind to me.”

The spoon in my hand clattered on the table. There was a ringing in my ear. My limbs were paralyzed, heart pounding in my chest as I felt the panic rise, almost drowning in it. I couldn't get enough air, finding myself on the verge of hyperventilating while my brain went into overdrive. It wasn’t my first panic attack, I was aware of what was happening to me, I knew I had to get a hold of myself. I couldn’t lose it here, not in front of them.

“Y/N? Hey can you hear me?” I turned towards the voice, Jason’s face slowly came into focus, “are you okay?”

“Y/N?” Jungkook said, looking extremely worried. He was holding my hand like a lifeline. I slowly removed his fingers and took my hand back.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I murmured, trying to control my breathing. I got up from the chair with wobbly knees, making my way towards the door. “You guys finish up, I’ll be in my office.”

Redemption, what a joke.

It was well into the afternoon when my stomach informed me that I was hungry. I was swarmed with paperwork. I’d been busy the whole week, running errands, filling forms, trying to keep the hybrids from tearing each other apart, so the paperwork got neglected, and now I was paying for it. I briefly wondered if I should go back home and grab something to eat, but then I remembered the look on everyone’s faces this morning. I had panicked in front of them. I had been feeling restless the whole week without a certain comfort penguin. I was too embarrassed to ask the guys if they had seen it.

I groaned, leaning back in my chair. How was I going to face them? What would I tell them if they asked? A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. “Come in.”

It was Jungkook, holding a bowl. He tentatively entered the office, looking everywhere but at me. His ears were drooping behind him. “I brought you lunch,” he said, setting the bowl on the table.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away this morning,” I apologized, extending a hand towards him, which he took hesitantly. I pulled him in my lap and buried my face in his chest; he smelled like vanilla.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked, wrapping his big hands around me.

“No,” I whispered. “But don't worry bunny, I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep.”

“Is it because of Jimin? Can’t we just send him away?”

That made me raise my head to look at him. “Why don’t you like him, bun?”

“He’s too clingy,” Jungkook pouted, jutting his lower lip out. It made me giggle.

“What about Namjoon and Seokjin?”

“They can stay, Seokjin hyung makes delicious food and Namjoon hyung is so cool.”

“Oh, did you talk to them?”

He shook his head no. I almost cooed at him - the poor bunny was too shy to talk to the older hybrids. “Why don’t you try making friends with Jimin? I bet you’ll like him if you got to know him better.”

He buried his face in my hair and shook his head, “...don't wanna.”

I took his hand in mine. “Won’t you do it for me?” I asked dramatically, trying to sound upset.

Jungkook leaned back to look at me, pout more pronounced. He knew exactly what I was doing. “Fine, I’ll try,” he agreed with a defeated sigh.

“Thank you, baby.” I kissed his palm in gratitude. At least he had agreed to try. “Why did you dye your hair?” I asked curiously, running my hands through his multicolored locks.

“Iwantyoutolikeme,” he said in one breath, hiding his face in my hair again.

“What?”

“I want you to like me.”

“You dyed your hair because you want me to like you?” Jungkook nodded. “Oh baby, I already like you!” I squeezed him tight, letting him know how much he meant to me. Is that what Jason had told Jimin? That I’d like him better if he dyed his hair? Jason was diabolical, I really needed to come up with a good plan to get back at him.

“Bun, next time, don’t listen to Jason.”

I was curled up on the sofa with a blanket. It was past midnight but I was wide awake and restless, staring at the ceiling. I had almost turned on the TV, but then I remembered that there were four hybrids in the house with phenomenal hearing, and I really didn’t want to wake them up. And thus, I suffered in silence.

I hadn’t seen the three new hybrids all day; they hadn’t been introduced to the shelter yet, so they stayed at home. When I came back from work, they were already in their room. They had insisted on staying in the same room, something about new places and pack bonding. I was giving Jason the cold shoulder, at least until he apologized for his crimes. And Jungkook was busy playing his new video games.

Clair had saved Jimin.

The thought rang in my head. Why hadn’t she saved me? Would things have been different, if she had stepped in? I had to admit, I was a tiny bit jealous of the panther hybrid. She had saved him.

Madame was so kind.

I was furious. How dare she? Clair had been a coward, had lived and died as one. I knew it in my soul, never in a million years would I ever forgive that woman. She didn’t deserve it.

“You’re angry,” a quiet voice said. I looked up to see a tall silhouette standing at the bottom of the stairs. Seokjin stepped out of the shadows, clutching a pillow in his hands.

“I was thinking. Can’t sleep?”

“Namjoon snores really loudly,” he complained. It made me laugh. The three of them were always attached to the hip, I had wondered if it was because they were uncomfortable here.

“You know we have plenty of spare bedrooms, you can take any of them.”

“Why are you here?”

“I can’t sleep.” I shrugged. Seokjin nodded understandingly, but he didn’t move an inch. “Do you want to sleep on the couch?”

He hesitated, looking as if he was unsure if he should accept my offer before he murmured, “can I?”

“Of course! But I think, a bed would be more comfortable,” I said, moving from the couch to the armchair. Seokjin sat down on the couch, placing his pillow near him.

“Why can’t you sleep? Is it because of what Jimin said?” he asked cautiously, ears erect and attentive.

“I have insomnia.” I shrugged, but Seokjin kept staring at me. I squirmed under his piercing gaze; staring at me like he could see right through my bullshit. “I didn’t have a good relationship with Clair. She raised me, but she was cruel, unkind. I just… can’t fathom her as someone nice.”

“So it had nothing to do with Jimin being a prostitute?” he asked suspiciously.

“WAIT! Is that what you guys thought? Oh my god, I would never…” I was shocked. No wonder the hybrids were avoiding me like the plague. “I’m really sorry, if it seemed that way but it's not like that. I’m really happy that Clair rescued him. He deserves a good home, a family. I don’t think you’d believe me, even if I told you what my aunt was like. I’m really sorry, if I hurt you guys. But believe me when I say that this is not a place where you’ll be judged for your past.”

“You mean that.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I do.”

“You could sleep on the couch with me?” Seokjin offered sheepishly, ears turning the color of strawberries. I was surprised to see him be so direct. He had been very reserved around me till now, only talking when necessary.

“Are you sure? Won’t you be uncomfortable?” I asked, eyeing the couch. It was big enough to seat five people comfortably, but Seokjin was big too.

He nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

Seokjin adjusted the pillow and laid down on the sofa, leaving room for me. I stood there with my hello kitty blanket, wondering if it was okay. The sudden change in the hybrid’s demeanor was unexpected and I gave up trying to dissect the situation. I had to admit, I was feeling a bit cuddly since the loss of my penguin and I desperately needed sleep. I scooched on the sofa, covering both of us with the blanket, resting my head on his arm.

“You’re not okay,” he murmured, wrapping his other arm around my waist, his tail curling around my thigh.

“I just need some sleep,” I sighed. Seokjin was like a furnace behind me. I wondered why all hybrids were this warm.

“Lies,” he said as he lightly nibbled on my ear. I gasped at the unexpected contact, my heart beating so loudly in my chest that I was sure he could hear it.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” my voice came out breathier than I had intended.

“I do, I just didn’t know how to approach you. You seem so independent, I didn’t know where I could fit in your life. The only thing I could do for Clair was look pretty. But this.... this I can do, I can comfort you. I want to be useful.”

I turned around to look at him. “Oh honey, you don’t have to be useful. You’re you and that’s enough for me. I just want you to be happy.” I lightly kissed his cheek.

“I’m going to be your comfort blanket,” Seokjin said with a smile and hugged me closer.

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justoneday-namjoonii · 4 years ago

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forgive me

anon request: “I really love the way you write angsty stuff so if u want, can u write a scene where jungkook is like involved in illegal stuff like drugs or maybe he's a hitman, Y/N and Jungkook have a conflict about that because she's not happy with what he does, he gets hurt a lot but he enjoys his job and doesn't wanna give it up cuz he loves the thrill. It can be an emotional scene where Y/N tells him that she's afraid of losing him because of what he does. Honestly come up with anything, I don't mind 😂”

prompt: Jungkook is a druglord, you’re a waitress at a shabby burger place. He loves what he does and even though you try to ignore it, it scares you. You fear you’ll lose him if he doesn’t quit and he’s all you have. Your so called family are full of lies and if it wasn’t for Jungkook, you don’t know where you’d be. You wonder every night if the sirens you hear are for him—you pray it’s not for him. Secretly, he feels the same about you.

pairing: Jungkook x reader

genre: angst, drabble, mental health issues, mentions of murder, mature subject matter

author’s note: For the anon who requested this, this is for you! I hope you enjoy~ did i watch Truth be Told and decide to make the OC a twin? yes, yes i did

When you opened your eyes, you started to feel around for your cellphone. When you couldn't feel for it, you rolled over and yawned, it's probably under the bed. That's where its gonna stay too. As soon as you got home from work, you fell face-first into your bed and taking a shower was the last thing on your mind. But now you're feeling the stale department store smell on your clothes. It takes about two minutes for you to roll out of bed and realize you that Jungkook should have been here by now. You grab your phone and see two missed calls and a text from 2 hours ago.

jungkook💖💫: im sorry ill be over a little later baby, something came up

jungkook💖💫: i miss you angel

You smile, he always misses you. And you miss him too, but you know he's probably out there in the slums of the city, doing what he does. How you lucked out with him, you have no idea. One night you were trying to call an Uber to get home from a birthday party at the club. It was around midnight and you had to work so you couldn't hang with the hardcore crowd. You went outside to call for a ride but you were being watched. Some guy kept catcalling, just outright harassing you. It was the scariest night of your life. You were telling him to leave you alone but he was drunk or high, either way, he wasn't all there. He snatched your phone. Just when you thought he was going to grab you, a black sports car, one you would have had to work two lifetimes to afford, stopped at the light. And before you know it, the man trying to get you is being dragged into the alley where he probably would have taken you. You remember being frozen, all you could hear was cursing and blunt force. The mystery man, whose car is still in the middle of the road, emerges from the dark corner between the buildings.

You were completely taken. The smile, the hair, the tattoos, and dangling earrings, paired with a striking gaze—he was an angel. He was so beautiful and he was just looking at you stand there with your mouth open.

"If there's one thing I hate, oh here you go," He hands you your phone and you get a nice look at his hand tattoo, "it's motherfuckers who can't leave women the fuck alone. Sorry you had to deal with that, but he won't be bothering you or anyone else after tonight, or use his hands again," He sighs, fixing his clothes a bit and wiping the blood from the corner of his lip, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, thank you," You slip the phone in your bomber jacket pockets, "not a lot of people would stop a stupid guy from bothering a girl they don't even know."

"Yeah, I'm Jungkook by the way," He introduces himself with a smile, situating his nice clothes, "do you- Um, did you need a ride? I'm not a creep I swear," He holds his hands up in surrender when you furrow your brows at the suggesting—great, now she thinks I'm a pervert.

"I didn't stop that guy as blackmail to get laid, I just-" He pauses to grapple for the right words, "I saw you just standing on the curb and I know it's not safe out here-"

"If it's not any trouble," You interrupt his rambling, "I live about 15 minutes away, I was gonna call a ride but if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it. My name is Y/n, by the way."

That night changed your life forever. It was the first time you had wanted to kiss a stranger, the first night you ever came close to a soulmate. He confesses to having seen you in the club, he was at the bar, refusing offers from every girl from the bartenders to cougars out on the town, at least that's what you always thought. In that little fifteen minutes, you got to know very little about him but you felt so comfortable sharing things about yourself when he asked. He dropped you off and said if you ever needed anything, to give him a call.

You never got to use the number because you ended up seeing him again. He showed up to your job, but he wasn't there for you, he was there for one of your money laundering and pill-popping associates. You were taking a break and for some reason, the break room was eerily empty. After you heard gunshots and the whole store went into chaos. You remember trying to leave and suddenly being swept away and into an outside electrical room apart of the building. You calmed down enough to realize that it was him but you were baffled.

"What're the odds that you would work at the same place as that bastard," He fiddles with the gun, tucking it to his side and flipping on the safety and pulling off his mask with a toothy grin, "do you remember me?"

"You?... Jungkook, how did you- Why are you-..." You make a small step back and swallow, scrambling to think of something to say. "Have you been following me like some creep?!"

"No! this is just a run-in by fate, I swear I didn't plan it. I'm not even supposed to still be here but I couldn't just leave, not without saying something to you."

"Okay...What do you want to say? I have to get back on the clock." You look him up and down, his all-black clothes and heavy boots intimidating but alluring in many ways.

"Wanna grab a coffee?"

For some reason, you said yes to the familiar stranger.

"Sure- I mean no! No, I can't Jungkook, I have to get back to work-"

"Trust me, just come with me," He extends his hand for you to take and smiles, "you won't regret it."

You took his hand and never looked back.

* * *

Nights like this.

When it's too early to ruin his life and too late to pretend like he wouldn't care. So when he shows up to the lounge to enforce an unpaid debt from a client, he leaves with bruised knuckles, two grand, and a rush of adrenaline. He went a little hard on the guy, but can you blame him? He messed up his plans. Tonight is date night, also known as 'crash at your place' night. It worked out though, you had to work late so he wouldn't be too tardy. Judging by the fact that you haven't answered your phone, you must be knocked out.

He slips his hand into his pocket and fumbles with his keys until he finds the one to your apartment. When he walks inside he hears the sink on and smiles to himself, you must've just woken up.

"Baby, it's me," He announces himself, "how was your day?"

"Fine," You step out in your work clothes, still trying to get your earrings out, "as fine as a day working for the devil could be."

"That bad?" You take note of the silk black shirt that's rolled up to his elbows, letting you see his beautiful sleeve of tattoos. When he comes dressed like this, and smelling like smoke you know he's been out into high-end clubs. The way some of the women look at him makes you feel small and a little self-conscious. But he always reassures you that you're who he wants, not some woman who sees him as an experimental one-night stand. When he tells you to meet him in the restroom because he needs to tell you something, you're reminded that you're all he wants.

"She screwed the schedule. My only day off was taken because her favorite, Kasey, has to go out of town."

He unbuttons the buttons on his shirt with deliberate fingers. "You walked out on a job for me before, remember that?" He smiles, letting his shirt fall from his shoulders like a dream. A bruise on his upper arm catches your attention but you don't say anything. "If you're not happy, just leave. I can take care of you, you can be my sugar baby."

"Yeah, my step-mom would love that, I could see it now," You cringe at the thought, "Hey, just a heads up, I'm not working or married but I have a sugar daddy who pays all my bills and lets me use his money for free, oh, he's also a drug lord. She'd really think highly of me then."

"Fuck Carol, she's a judgmental priss anyway," He comes up to you, hands finding your waist, "why do you care what she thinks about you?"

"I don't care what she thinks, but if she finds out she'll tell my dad and I don't want to hear it from him. If he pretends to not be disappointed by the lesser-twin one more time, I'll actually cuss him out...He's such a liar, he lied to my mom and he lies to me.”

"Quit saying that," Jungkook grabs you under your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist so he can sit on the edge of your bed, "you're not the lesser-twin, you're the cute and sexy twin." You sit back on his thighs and you both laugh at his attempt to lighten your mood.

"Well, I'm not a successful surgeon and I'm broke as hell, but at least my boyfriend thinks I'm cute." His hands find their way to the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, revealing a disappointing tank top.

"See, this is disappointing. Why are you wearing a tank top? It's a hundred degrees outside." He sighs, looking up at you like a pouting little kid.

"Because I want to," You grin, brushing his hair from his brows, revealing a scratch, "you're cut."

"Yeah, had a run-in with an old friend, we're obviously not friends anymore."

"You should take me with you on these deals and stuff, I'd make a great bodyguard for you," You joke, "if you showed me how to use a gun."

"You?" He giggles at the image of you secretly acting as a bodyguard, a dagger, and a gun in a garter under a skintight dress. "That's not a bad idea, they'd be too distracted looking at how fucking beautiful you are to see you as a threat."

"Yeah, I always saw as the Bonnie & Clyde type of couple," He leans up to kiss you and you smile through it before he pulls away, "eh, you need to shower, you smell like weed."

He furrows his brows, a snarky smile on his mouth. "And you smell like French fries, but I still kissed you.”

"Touche." You can't argue with that, the French fries smell gets to you too.

He picks you up, carrying you to the bathroom with a beaming smile.

"Let's shower then."

* * *

A deal went bad, he got grazed by a bullet and spent a few hours at the emergency room.

When he pulled in to the driveway and saw your car, he sighed in relief—he was hoping you'd come. After work, you had come by earlier to clear your head and take a breather from your cramped apartment and rowdy neighbors. Ever since his 'new position' he was put up in this huge mansion, equipped with a full staff. Luckily, they were off tonight so no need to keep quiet.

It's getting late and you've been trying to watch a baking show to stay awake but it was getting difficult. He hadn't called or answered any of your calls or texts. When you hear the garage door open, your heavy lids lift and you yawn, trying to wake up so you can tell him how your day has been.

He opens the door with a deep sigh and he's glad you can't see the thick white bandage on his upper arm and tired shadows under his eyes because of the dim lights. "Jungkook, it's so late..." You mumble, sitting up. "what took you so long?"

"Yeah, baby, I just had a mix up with someone who owed the group a lot of money, they, uh- They opened fire and we had a lot to clean up." He offhandedly mentions that and goes to the bathroom to change and you just wait for him.

The painkiller is wearing off but he manages to brush his teeth and slip into some sweats and a t-shirt. After flicking the light switch off, he falls into bed with a heavy exhale. Glad to finally have him close so you can tell him about your terrible day, you turn to hug him, and instantly a wince of pain leaves his mouth.

"Sorry," You giggled, thinking he was just kidding until you see the bandage on his arm, "Oh my gosh," You sit up, hand reaching for his bandage with concern in your brows, "what happened?"

"It's nothing baby, I was grazed by a bullet and had to go to the ER," He spares you a weak grin, hand rustling through his damp locks, "but it's nothing, I feel fine."

It's always nothing to him. You lean down and place a gentle kiss on his forehead, one he would normally place on you. Nights go by and you know he's out there risking his life, not thinking how devastated you would be if one night he doesn't come back.

He caresses the apple of your cheek, lips parting when sits up to try to kiss you, but you pull away.

"Hey, I've had a long day I just want to kiss you," He sits up now, "talk to me."

"Talk to yourself, I'm going to sleep."

"Where the fuck is this coming from?" He glares at you, tone firmer than before. "Y/n, cut the crap. What's the problem?"

"Jungkook, there's no problem I just worry about you."

"I don't mean to make you worry," He speaks softly, "but you know this is what I do, I can't stop now, even if I wanted to."

"I know," Sadly, "but you're all I have."

He tilts his head, a bit confused. "What happened?"

"My sister called when I got off of work. My dad isn't doing well, his liver is in terrible condition and he needs a transplant...He's on a wait-list now."

Knowing the severed relationship you have with your family, he treads lightly when requesting this. "Do you want to go see him?-"

"No!" You snap. "Why would I want to see him? This is what he gets for killing my mother."

"Y/n, you don't mean that..." Jungkook gets uncomfortable when you enter that head-space, you become ruthless in your words and your eyes glaze over with something he has yet to understand.

"Why not? It's true. He was cheating on her, that's why he never came home and she thought something was wrong. So drove out in the middle of the night during a storm and ended up crashing into a tree, because of him. My sister has always defended him, but I think it's because she didn't like mom either...The two of them may have cried at the funeral but I know them, they were glad she left us. That's why I need you, Jungkook, I don't have them or want them..."

"Y/n, you have to learn to forgive them for whatever you think they did, it's going to drive you insane if you don't...Fuck them, spend your energy on us, okay?"

"I'm already insane, I'm with you, aren't I? You come close to being killed every week, and it bothers me to think you might not come home...But I'll go through that if it means I get to have you, I love you, I only love you..." You lay your head on his shoulder.

He’s your angel.

You aren’t sure what you are to him.

#jungkook scenario #bts drabble #jungkook drabble #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #Bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook mafia #jungkook hitman #bts hitman au #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #this wasn't supposed to be a murder mystery but idk #i was getting unhinged vibes #like the oc #shes a little crazy

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cuddlepilefics · 4 years ago

Text

Do you even lift?

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Changbin

Caregiver: Chan

No one's POV.:

Changbin had come under quite a bit of fire lately. He had successfully gained weight and loved how cute his squishy cheeks looked. Sadly, they came at a cost, resulting in the rapper being criticized for his belly fat. Would he cut down on food, he'd lose his cute cheeks again, so that left only one solution: more exercise to reveal his abs and hopefully still keep his cheeks. That's easier said than done though, because his schedule was already tightly packed. The only times he managed to go to the gym were after his official schedule late into the night. Changbin wasn't one to complain, so he'd take what he could get even if that meant salvaging all the discipline he could find and forcing himself to push past his exhaustion to trade sleep for exercise. The calculation was easy for him: ‘If I leave the studio at 2am, I’ll make it to the gym at around 2:30am. Exercise for 90minutes and leave the gym around 4am. Walk home and have a shower, then I could be in bed around 5am and get up to 3 hours of sleep before we have to get up again.’

He had been following this routine for the past three weeks and he was beginning to see the first changes. Mostly in his arms though, not in his abs but he was building muscles, so his abs would probably grow too, just a bit slower than his arms. The other members noticed it too and Changbin received many compliments for the size of his biceps. On the down side, he constantly felt sore and could barely remember what life was like without feeling his muscles burn with every movement. His appetite had also changed. It was so much bigger than before, which only made sense with how much he was asking from his body. Although he had deliberately decided not to diet, he also wouldn’t increase his food intake just because he felt hungry all the time. What Changbin failed to understand was that his body was desperately begging for energy, either from sleep or from some extra calories. Since the rapper gave his body neither, it was only a matter of time till he had to feel his body’s wrath. He kept spacing out, which was probably worsened by low blood-sugar levels because he decided to consume less carbohydrates and eat healthy fats instead. One day, he almost fell asleep during one of 3racha’s production sessions. Both Chan and Jisung had mocked him for it but were mostly worried because their friend had started to come home even later than Chan. They had laughed it off together and Changbin had been forced to skip his workout that day, being dragged home to get some sleep instead. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t exercise twice as hard the next day though to make up for the missed workout.

Dance practices have developed a kind of love-hate relationship with Changbin. He loved them because they were also a form of exercise but he hated them because with how slow his brain had become from how run down he was, he was always a few beats behind on the choreography. If it seemed like it was frustrating for the dance-racha that was doing their best to teach them the new dance routines, it was so much more frustrating for Changbin. He was pushing himself incredibly hard to erase something that he was criticized for, only to mess up and be criticized for something else. Over the last week, he had noticed that he could go over the choreography about five times before getting dizzy and messing the steps up even more, so he tried to use the first few rounds to show his members that he wasn’t doing that bad, going all out and using up his remaining energy. In the breaks, Felix often sat with him, massaging his neck and shoulders. The Aussie could see how tense the other’s posture was and tried to give him as much relief as possible. Changbin appreciated it, although at that point there was nothing that Felix could do to make him hurt less. It was comforting and it at least took away the stress for a few minutes and helped him relax mentally, even though his muscles couldn’t really relax anymore.

“Guys, since our schedule ends early today and Channie-hyung said there wouldn’t be a 3racha meeting today, can we maybe go out for dinner tonight? It’d even be my treat”, Minho offered. The group had barely had the time to relax or have fun together. Changbin scratched his neck awkwardly, admitting: “I was actually looking forward to visit the gym early today.” – “It’s fine, you guys can go. I’ll go with Changbin because it had been ages since I had the time to exercise apart from our dance practices”, Chan announced. Yes, he had barely been working out lately for the lack of time but his main intention was to keep an eye on his dongsaeng. The leader was afraid the younger was overworking himself. Their plan was soon settled, though a few youngers, especially Felix, tried to talk Changbin out of going to the gym but his insecurities and body image made it impossible for the rapper to skip. His head was already hurting before they left for the gym but if he thought about it, it had been hurting for the last two days already. A good night’s rest would probably fix it, so Changbin was glad he’d be home a bit earlier tonight. It’s not like he had the intention to harm himself with his excessive exercising but he failed to listen to his body telling him to stop.

On the way to the gym, Chan had asked many questions on his dongsaeng’s workout routine to figure out how hard the younger was actually pushing his limits. He was shocked when he finally grasped the extent and tried to give the rapper a few hints here and there, that he might want to think about this habit. Changbin either wasn’t getting the hint that his hyung was telling him to stop, which was possible considering how out of it he was, or he was unwilling to admit to himself, that he was slowly running his body into the ground. Chan soon gave up and realized the younger had to see for himself that what he was doing was hurting him. That didn’t mean the leader wasn’t prepared to be there and pick up the pieces when Changbin would reach his breaking point. For now, he tried to keep the mood light. They took a few pictures and compared the weights they’d be using for their individual routines, before putting in their earphones and getting started.

It all seemed to be going well. At least that was what it looked like to Chan. Changbin soon removed his earphones because he blamed the stereo-sound for the spinning in his head and his balance-issues. To his dismay, he had to accept that the change barely had an effect on his struggles. He was also shaking harder from the strain than he remembered himself shaking the previous day but what did he expect with the amount of sleep he was running on. Changbin finished up with his push-ups and stood up with the weights in his hands. Upon shifting his position upright, black spots started to dance in his vision but he was used to it. It had happened a few times over the course of the past week. He’d just drop down to one knee and wait till his vision cleared before getting up again. Changbin’s back was facing Chan, so the leader couldn’t see his discolored face, or the cold sweat that was dripping from his forehead, running down his temples. The rapper had been kneeling there for quite a while already, longer than he usually needed to, so Chan removed his earphones too and teased: “Do you even lift, mate?”

Changbin shook his head and turned his head towards Chan. He was mumbling something that resembled ‘h-hyung’, but Chan only saw his lips moving. The leader didn’t need to hear him though, the look on his face, combined with his skincolor, told Chan all he needed to know. Cursing silently, the oldest dropped his weights and rushed over to his friend. He wrapped his arms around Changbin from his back and gently pulled him backwards to sit down properly. Changbin defeatedly let go of his weights and leaned back against his hyung’s chest. “It’s okay. Just take deep breaths and the dizziness will go away”, Chan assured, holding the younger against his chest so he wouldn’t fall over. Taking a shaky breath in, Changbin failed and his breathing remained fast and shallow. One hand came up to clutch onto Chan’s arm, a desperate attempt to hold himself up, before it dropped back down, along with Changbin’s head that fell onto his chest as his body went slack.

For a second, Chan panicked before he collected himself, realizing he’d only be able to help the younger if he was able to keep a cool head. Carefully, the leader lowered Changbin to lie on the floor, feeling his pulse weak and fast. He got up and without his eyes ever leaving the younger, he collected his water bottle and a stack of lyric sheets. Chan sprinkled some of the water onto Changbin’s face before fanning him with the papers. To his relief, he soon heard the rapper groan and his eyes fluttered open. “Take it easy, you’re okay”, Chan promised, “Just blacked out for a second. I think we’re done exercising for today.” Changbin nodded and brought his hands up to massage his temples. Was his headache already that bad earlier? He wanted to keep up but his hyung held it down with a gentle hand on his chest, asking: “Please stay down a little longer, just until your face has taken on a healthier shade.” Changbin nodded again, too drained to respond verbally.

After resting for another two minutes, Changbin started to feel cold, his body not having the energy left to sustain his body temperature. Chan noticed the slight shiver and went to collect his hoodie. “Here, you can try to sit up and put this on”, the leader said with a comforting smile. He helped his dongsaeng to sit up and kept an arm around his shoulders to steady him. Changbin tiredly slipped the hoodie on, cursing his arms for burning as much as they did from the simple movement. Grabbing his towel, he dried his sweaty face. He also took a few sips of the water Chan offered him before clearing his throat and asking: “Hyung, can we go home?” The older was glad he didn’t have to argue about taking Changbin home and nodded. “Do you think you can walk or do you want a piggy back?”, he asked, studying the rapper. “Walk!” – “Alright, alright”, he laughed, pulling Changbin to his feet and wrapping one arm around his waist, while Changbin’s arm hung over his neck, “But can you give me a warning if you feel dizzy again?” – “Yeah – yeah, I think – I think I can do that”, Changbin mumbled, swaying a bit as Chan picked up both of their bags.

Their walk back to the dorm was slow and quiet and Chan was sure, the younger hadn’t fallen asleep walking. He felt a bit guilty for not stopping Changbin before it could get this bad but he also knew that if the rapper had set his mind on something, there was no stopping him. While Changbin went to their room to pick out his clothes, Chan ran him a bath. The leader was afraid his dongsaeng would slip and fall if he tried to take a shower. He let Changbin take his time and went to the kitchen to make them both some dinner. Chan had settled on making some rice with chicken to fill up their energy fast while also giving them a good amount of protein. Dishing the food onto plates, he made sure Changbin’s was heaping full. “Hey, hyung. Sorry about earlier”, Changbin apologized, walking into the kitchen with damp hair. Chan shook his head and sat him down at the table, so they could eat together, replying: “It’s alright but I hope you got your wakeup call to start listening to your body better.” Changbin nodded guiltily. “You should take the next few days to rest up because you have pushed your body way too hard. I know why you did and I’m not going to scold you because I understand your intentions but please take better care of yourself from now on”, the leader pleaded. Changbin bit his lip. It didn’t feel right to take even a day off, when it was entirely his own fault that he felt so bad. On the other hand, being able to sleep in and not having to drag his achy and wrecked body out of bed tomorrow sounded like heaven. In the end, they compromised on Changbin resting for one day and deciding afterwards if he needed another. What was sure though, was that Chan would keep a closer eye on him from now on to ensure he got the rest he needed.

#stray kids #skz #sick #sickfic #fanfic #fanfiction #whump #fluff #comfort #seo chanbin #bang chan

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years ago

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A Misplaced Imbalance of Fear

Ao3, MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic Dukexiety, implied/minor Moceit (platonic or romantic)

From the power of my Art and my Shitposts comes This Fanfiction!!!

Warnings: Panic Attacks, Lots of Cursing, descriptions of gore (horror movies, it gets decently explicit so beware that), mild body horror (Remus is here and he Does Things Like That), Heavy Roman angst for a hot minute in the middle, making out (continuing my theme of remus-centric fics getting more ;3). They do some makeup and drink tea, baby. Mentions of picking one’s skin as an Anxious habit, and also ticking. Also stimming!!! nd sides 4 life bb. Also, a very brief alcohol mention (it’s soup).

Word Count: 6,553

God Fucking Fuck, Virgil was going to have a self-care day even if it killed him dead. Everybody else could do whatever overdramatic fuckery they wanted when they were topside, but he was all set down there in the Mindpalace, thank you very much.

Luckily, mercifully, thankfully, the rest of the sides all seemed keen to let Virgil have his space anyway. There wasn’t a thing stopping him from relaxing.

Well, except for himself, of course.

A thrum of condensed stress and fear tugged at Virgil’s abdomen, bubbling its way over his edges. It was equally his own and the others’, probably due to whatever conversation they were caught up in in the external world. He would not relent to the worry, nor was he summoned to help with the situation, but his body refused to stop shaking. Perched on the top of the couch, frantically clicking the buttons on a fidget cube, Virgil tried to watch the gore playing on the TV in a tired effort to calm his nerves.

Horror movies… helped. They were something for his brain to chew on for a while- their over-the-top and ridiculous plots, the obnoxious characters that almost always deserve what’s coming to them, the attention-attaining action- it was all a recipe for Distraction. But they weren’t working by that point, no matter how badly Virgil wanted them to.

And then- possibly because the universe loved to spite Virgil and Virgil specifically- a walking, talking headache flung himself into the common room about as elegantly as a wolfhound with rabies.

“Heyyyy,” Remus crowed as he sprawled himself out on the couch. Anxiety curled his legs closer under his body, unresponsive- he knew full well that any reaction would just be an invitation for trouble from the obnoxious trait. He’d remember what Logan taught them: don’t engage, just brush it all off.

Unfortunately, Remus seemed to be in a stubborn mood.

“Whatcha watching?”

“Movie,” Virgil grumbled.

“What movie?”

He eyed the side laying out on the couch below him, narrowing his gaze as threateningly as he could manage. He spat the words through gritted teeth and made it clear he was not having this today.

“It’s called Terrifier.”

Remus perked up at that, and oh God, if he was interested then he’d never go the fuck away.

“What’s it about?”

There wasn’t much Virgil could do but answer in as clipped a tone as he could; things hadn’t gotten too bad, too uncomfortable, yet. Maybe he could redirect Remus’ attention, if he was just boring and unresponsive enough?

“Just a cliche creepy clown flick. Not much to it.”

“Is it gory?”

Virgil made a vaguely affirmative sound in his throat, gesturing to the screen. In truth, the movie’s impeccable special effects with gore was its main appeal, as the acting and plot was kinda atrocious. Violence was the exact reason he’d chosen to watch this. But he knew saying that wouldn’t help his chances of shaking off Intrusive Thoughts.

Remus looked ready to spout off something explicit, but he went dead quiet as his eyes fell on the scene on the television. Virgil was grateful for small mercies.

It was exactly the kind of thing that the creative trait would watch, after all; a woman getting sawed in half, lengthwise, starting from the- er, the wrong end. Under circumstances of a more typical anxious flare-up, the scene really could have been one of those ‘helpful distractions’.

These were not normal circumstances.Yeah, this was one of those ‘too passive’ cases, but Virgil didn’t exactly have the energy for anything ‘active’. So, he stubbornly glared at the TV and pretended that his solution was working, because he had no idea what else to do. Perfect plan.

Preoccupied as he was with his internal issues, he very nearly managed to forget about Remus. Until-

“Holy fuck, this is gorgeous, you watch stuff like this?!” The Duke’s eyes were bright, but not with his usual hysteria. They were wide with genuine excitement, shiny and happy. It was- uncanny, that’s probably the word Virgil was looking for. He curled closer in on himself.

“Shouldn’t be that surprising, dude. ‘Scary’ is kind of my thing.”

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen this one,” the creative side was once again completely enamored by the television screen, “Don’t blood and guts and cool things like that freak you out? They always seem to do the trick when I try to mess with you!”

“It’s different. The violence in movies, it- it calms me down, I guess. Cause it’s like, I don’t know, detached from reality?”

There was a pause that had Virgil hoping, naively, that Remus had grown bored at his spiel. But he wasn’t moving, he was just staring, gaze switching contemplatively from the screen to Virgil a few times over.

“It doesn’t look like that. If you were any more tense, all your tendons would be snapping like badly-tuned violin strings!”

“Yeah, no shit,” Virgil pressed his back against the wall and shut his eyes tight. He could still hear- no, feel- Patton and Roman and Thomas arguing, snapping at each other back and forth as the situation escalated.

“Is this about whatever the others are doing? Why don’t you just stop listening to their shitty arguments?”

A harsh laugh escaped Virgil at that, dragging him back down to earth so he could blink his eyes open, glaring at the facet lying beneath him.

“I can’t just stop, that’s not how I work. I need to keep an ear on them. Who knows what could happen if I didn’t?”

“Well, why don’t you just go talk to them?”

If he wasn’t already frustrated beyond belief, that would’ve fuckin’ done it for him.

“I don’t think I’d be much help. Not right now.”

“Why not?” Remus looked halfway between genuinely curious and mischievous, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better view of Anxiety.

“Seriously? Things aren’t exactly, like- normal between all of us.”

“What is normal?”

Virgil opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came through. As much as it sounded like an offhanded, edgy 13-year-old atheist kind of remark, it was a decent point. Virgil had thought that there was something of a status quo forming between himself and the ‘light sides’, but how long had that even lasted for? Especially compared to the rest of his life? Everything was changing all the time. Was there anything to rely on, or was it just Virgil’s own wishful thinking for what their lives could be? After all, even in ‘peaceful times’, there had been plenty of in-fighting and disagreements and horrible uncomfortable conversations and harsh words and-

“Oh, shut that brain up,” Remus’ sharp voice pulled Virgil from his thoughts, “I know what you meant ‘normal’. You meant the six months when you got to forget about us Scary Monsters, and, DUH! It was probably way simpler for all you diet-soda-no-sugar sluts back then, but that doesn’t mean it was better.”

“Yeah, you would think that things are better now, wouldn’t you?”

Remus fixed Virgil with an unsettling sort of grimace, making the other squirm. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so by any means.

“I dunno, but what I do know is that things are getting better. They’ll be the best they could be, soon.”

Despite himself, Virgil laughed. It was a faltering, anxious sound, revealing the true fear behind the taunting gesture.

“Really? With everybody at each other’s throats all the time?”

“While that does sound fun,” Remus sat up fully, twisting around to look directly up at Virgil, “I mean after that. After we’re all accepted. It’s inevitable- Inevitable, Anxious Lil’ Barista,” Remus accompanied the referential nickname with a wink.

Virgil stared at him like he was crazy (well- like- crazier than usual, he guessed?). Remus just threw his head back and laughed before spinning his neck one-hundred and eighty degrees to face the TV while he explained.

“Point is, it’s painfully obvious that everything will sort itself out. It has to, or else the only other option is that Thomas is gonna drive himself insane by trying to suppress parts of himself and end up clawing his own brain out. One of those two things!”

While colorfully phrased, the certainty with which Remus delivered his point had Virgil taken aback. There was no way that Remus could possibly know that, but- in a backwards way it was comforting, how sure he sounded. He didn’t lie, not ever.

Virgil had never thought that Remus would settle for anything less than going out of his way to make others’ lives a hell. But maybe that antagonism wasn’t what exactly motivated the trait’s actions. Maybe it was just an unintentional side effect, akin to what Logan had said when Remus first revealed himself.

The moment of reprieve was over as soon as it began.

“Fuck! He just cut off her tits and wore ‘em, huh?”

Virgil looked up and, to be fair, that was exactly what had happened on screen. Like he said, this movie wasn’t exactly poetic cinema, but it certainly was something.

He scooted along the top of the couch, moving just a few feet before dropping down to sit properly beside Remus.

“3/10 drag look at best, really,” Virgil muttered, mostly to himself. He jumped when Remus shrieked with laughter at it, looking absolutely delighted.

“I didn’t know you made jokes like that, VeeVee!”

Virgil shrugged noncommittally, focusing on the screen and not the facet beside him. Remus’ giggling was loud and distracting, but it wasn’t… unpleasant, unlike his typical villain-cackle was.

Once Remus had settled down (as much as somebody like him could, anyway), he, too, focused on watching. The quiet was uncomfortable, but it didn’t stretch on for long. There was always something in the movie that The Duke felt the need to comment upon extensively, elaborating and giving details on the gore. Virgil found himself listening to the rants silently, almost enjoying the disruption. It certainly gave his overactive mind something to play around with.

“-skin doesn’t slice as easy as that, trust me-”

Aaaand there it was. Virgil winced, trying very hard not to show that the words had struck a nerve. He liked horror, gore, all that, sure, but there were just some specific things- squicks, you could call them. Remus would obviously use that to his advantage, so the only option was to try very hard to zone out and not look like he was disturbed.

“But even then- Hey, why are you making that face?”

Mission failed.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Remus shifted closer- invasively closer, his gaze studying.

“You were calming down earlier, what's with the scrunch-nose?”

Virgil stared at his hands, chipping away his black nail polish. Remus was nearly as good at reading lies as Janus, and twice as hard to get rid of.

“It's just- skin, slicing, that stuff just-” he ticked, head spasming sideways briefly at even the thought of that kind of pain.

“Oh,” Remus said plainly, not even a hint of malice or mischief in his tone as he leaned back into his own spot, “Why didn't you just say so? Well, that last exploding head kill is way more interesting anyway, did you see that?”

That was… it? No taunting, no tormenting, he just changed the topic, like that?

Remus, continuing to be weirdly perceptive, scoffed as though he was reading Virgil’s mind.

“What? Just because I like screwing with you prudes sometimes doesn't mean I want to give you a panic attack. Where's the fun in that?”

Anxiety nodded mutely, bewildered. Remus seemed appeased by that and quickly resumed his running commentary.

And if Virgil eventually decided to take part in the discussion, well, it wasn’t a big deal anyway. Just some polite conversation about bodily mutilation.

The television darkened as the screen was washed by credits, filling the space where the disfigured face of the main character had been mere moments prior, the result of a pretty predictable twist ending. Virgil stood, arching his back up in a stretch. His arms raised higher, one joint or another crackling at the motion. Fuck, he was sore. How long had he been sitting still?

Remus hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch. He tapped his claws along the remote, exiting to the homescreen and looking expectantly at Virgil.

“You don't wanna watch anything else?” He asked abruptly, drawing a confused glance from his companion, “This is fun- and they're still arguing up there, so it kinda makes sense to stay, it’s really the best solution if you-”

Virgil huffed a laugh at the rambling. It sounded like some shit he’d say, for crying out loud.

“Dude, chill, I was just gonna make some tea before putting on another movie,” the clear relief that ran across Remus' face- quickly replaced by a wide grin- wasn't anything shy of… sweet. Virgil was sure this day couldn't get any fucking weirder, if he was finding anything endearing about the walking talking dirty joke before him. “Uh, you want anything? Since you're gonna stick around, and all.”

Remus jumped up, following Virgil into the MindPalace’s small kitchen happily. In one smooth motion, he swung up onto the counter and slid down it, seating himself almost on top of the stove.

“No hot leaf soup for me, thanks, but I will take one of those mugs!”

Virgil raised a brow, staring the creative trait down before shrugging. He passed him one of the mugs, a generic and patternless one- so that the other sides probably wouldn't notice its absence. He busied himself by setting up the kettle, trying not to wince at the loud wet crunch that resulted when Remus took a bite of his snack.

“Hey,” Remus said around a mouthful of ceramic chunks, “I know just the movie we should watch next.”

Virgil shifted around the various tea boxes littering the cabinets, searching for something with a kick. He hazarded a glance to Remus, immediately regretting the decision when he saw the blood dribbling down his chin from the cuts marring his lips. Anxiety cringed, turning his head back and grabbing for the first brightly-colored box he saw. It took him a moment to respond.

“Okay… what is it?”

“It's awful- I mean, really, the acting is unbearable and it’s fucking insane- but it's funny. You like making fun of stuff, right? It's like that, but there's still a ton of agonizing death, which is always a fun bonus.”

“What's it about?” Virgil was hesitantly intrigued, his gaze flicking up from the steadily heating kettle. He wasn't exactly keen on staring down the gory scene of Remus’ mouth, so he settled his focus on the trait’s eyeball brooch.

“Uhn-uhn! No spoilers, this is one you have to see for yourself. It's funnier that way.”

Virgil made a noncommittal sound, tapping his nails against the counters.

“Nothing too bad happens- not that you can't handle, anyway. No slicing and not many jumpscares.”

He resisted the urge to snap 'how do you know what I can’t handle?' because Remus actively trying to reassure him was. Something. Something that he appreciated, maybe, a little.

“Okay, fine. I didn't have anything else in mind. A ‘So-Bad-It’s-Good’ thing sounds alright.”

The obnoxious gnawing of Remus destroying what was left of his cup suddenly ceased, replaced by a stunned silence. Virgil finally met his eyes (finding that the lacerations around Remus’ mouth were already healing themselves, as if they'd never existed).

“You’re taking my suggestion?”

Virgil cleared his throat, finding himself unable to break the intense eye-contact now that it had been established.

“It's not a big deal or anything, man. Just a movie.”

Remus nodded enthusiastically, a grin splitting his face ear-to-ear. Very literally. The expression was so unnatural and cartoonish on a human(ish) face, that Virgil couldn't help but be startled into laughter. Remus looked even more delighted at that reaction, leaning forward over the stove. At that point, Virgil very much couldn't suppress the noises, snorts bubbling up from his throat against his will.

“You look-” another bout of chuckling, “-you look ridiculous, Remus.”

“Aw, thank you! I was going for manic, but I'll settle for that, too.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, hunching in on himself to get his breathing back to normal.

With no warning, Remus lifted himself up onto his knees and craned his body around the vigilant trait, snatching the kettle from the stove and flipping the dial to ‘off’. Instinctively, Anxiety recoiled from the proximity. The tension fell away when he saw that the other was simply pouring the hot water into Virgil’s mug for him.

“Dude, it wasn't whistling yet?”

“I know; it was hissing like it was about to start. You're boring and don't like loud noises, especially when you’re all on edge like this, so,” he set the kettle back down, passing the warm mug to Virgil.

Virgil stared at him, then at the drink in his hand, then back up at the Duke. He was, for what felt like the millionth time that day, unsure of how to react.

He… really hadn't thought that Remus would pick up on stuff like that. He should probably start getting used to that, maybe.

“I'm-” Virgil dragged his finger up and down the handle of his mug, “I'm not that on edge anymore, actually.”

The look that Remus sent him was indecipherable.

“C’mon, I’ll queue up that flick I told you about.”

“Yeah,” Virgil let out a deep breath, one he hadn't even known he'd been holding, “Yeah, okay.”

The floor was bubbling, popping, blistering with red fury. It was lava, sending bright flaming sparks in all directions. Thankfully for Remus and Virgil, sitting close together on the couch and viciously mocking cabin fever, the vicious rage was exclusive to one small circle near the staircase.

Virgil, who had been happily tearing apart the leading guy’s acting, cut himself off abruptly.

“Shit- wait- shit.”

Remus shook himself out of his raucous laughter, looking up in confusion. His eyes finally settled on the crimson patch of carpet, a look of realization crossing them. His voice turned much quieter than what fit him.

“Oh, fuck.”

It was like a volcanic eruption localized entirely within the living room, fire blazing in a tall column. From the emotional display, Roman rose up, face nearly as red as his method of transportation.

There was that brief moment, right when a stressful situation appeared, of antithetical serenity. Virgil felt his muscles slacken in shock, his long-empty mug falling from his hands and landing on the carpet with a dull thud. A rush of calmness hollowed out his chest, lingering for just a few seconds before being replaced by panic. Tension returned to his limbs mere moments after that, like it was pulling him taut.

Roman wasn't even looking at them- in fact, he hadn't seemed to notice his brother or best friend at all. The fire fell back down, leaving a charred patch of carpet that would likely take a long time to repair itself. The passionate trait growled, a sound that bordered on a scream as he clawed his hands down his face. He stamped his boot sharply against the ground, igniting another small fire with the impact.

“Fuck!” He cried, ever oblivious to his audience. With a hasty wave, the flames flickered and disappeared. Roman glared down at the blackened spot where it had been, winding his arms tightly around himself. He took a few shaky breaths, but if anything he only looked worse off for it.

“Fuck,” this time spoken quieter, but with no less vitriol. An immaculately-manicured hand raised itself to cover his mouth, tightening around his face desperately as tears slipped from his eyes down his fingers. He turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time.

In his wake, as the television had been paused, the only thing that Virgil could hear was buzzing in his skull.

What had happened? What was happening, currently?! Things had gone so wrong and it was all because of Virgil’s negligence- what bad things could have been prevented if he had just been there? Or- or even just listening in! When had he even stopped listening? He was supposed to protect them but he just gave up, just because he ‘couldn't handle it’, and now something was Wrong with Roman and he couldn't even focus on listening to them all now, not like this. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t hear or see anything at all.

A rough, calloused hand wrapped around his wrist. Virgil's shallow breath staggered even more at the feeling, the warbly noise of speech failing to meet his ears. His eyes were closed tight, he realized, stinging with emotion behind his eyelids.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Four seconds, four strikingly gentle presses against the vein of Virgil’s wrist. If it weren't for the slight edge of a claw, he could've confused the motion for one of Patton��s.

The four taps were followed by a brief pause, then a steady round of seven taps. Another pause, and then eight. As Virgil focused, as much as he could anyway, on the presses, the screaming of his mind very gradually abated. First, he pried his eyes open, staring down at the hand around his arm. Watching the tapping, feeling it, was grounding enough for his hearing to return in time. Virgil could hear Remus beside him, breathing deeply as a guide, and copying the exercise became that much easier. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

Remus didn't stop when Virgil did it properly one time over, when he was still shaking and teary. He didn't speak up even when the well behind Anxiety's eyes ran dry, after what had to be a dozen rounds of even breaths. It was only when Virgil finally, hesitantly slipped his wrist out of the other's grasp on his own terms that Remus made any sounds.

“Do you remember when you taught me to do makeup? Late teens, early twenties, around then?”

Talk about a topic shift. Virgil glanced up in confusion.

“I guess so? Wasn't that, like, the only time that we hung out and actually got along?” They’d never exactly been close, Virgil had made sure of that. It was, in retrospect, a regrettable decision on his part.

“Yeah. I was so bad at it, remember?”

“Hell yes, I remember,” Virgil felt a tiny smirk tug his lips at the memory, “You literally never sat still. You were and are the most impatient person I've ever met.”

“I’ve gotten a lot better, Vee.”

Virgil glanced at the bruise-like eyeshadow circling the Duke's eyes, but refrained from saying anything. Knowing him (kind of knowing him? Starting to know him better now? Whatever.) it was most definitely intentionally off-putting, and probably not a good way to judge his actual ability.

“But I’ve seen how you do it, when you really, really try; I think you're still better than me with it, ju-u-ust barely.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Virgil wasn't entirely sure where this was going, but he couldn't find the soft excitement in Remus’ eyes anything other than enticing. The creative side laughed, flapping his hand.

“It would be fun if you did it for me again! Just like old times, ey?”

Virgil stared at him, considering him carefully.

“You want me to do your makeup?”

“Yes!” Remus leaned forward with his confirmation, but for once that didn't involve violating Virgil’s post-panic attack bubble, “It'll give you something to do with your hands other than peeling back all your skin, at the very least.”

Oh, right. Virgil not-so-subtly lifted his nails from his palms, wincing at the irritated red spots coloring his hands.

Truth be told, the idea wasn't… unappealing. It was an activity well between mindless and active, repetitive and artistic. Plus, he didn't exactly love being alone after attacks, and if anything Remus would be lively company. Company that he sort of, maybe, possibly was looking forward to spending the rest of the day with anyway, unfortunate events notwithstanding.

“Yeah, alright, if you're sure you want-”

“Great! Wait right there, bee-arh-bee,” before the words were even fully out of his mouth, Remus went limp and fell sideways off of the couch, falling right through the floor.

In his absence, there was a void where his noise had been. Virgil stared at the paused movie scene, picking apart the little details of the frame just to have something to do. His mind drifted off to the state that Roman had been in when he entered. The sight of his friend so furious burned itself on the backs of Virgil’s eyelids. He knew that the anxiety wasn't all his own, either; he could feel it like waves from the other side of the MindPalace, the origin point clearly belonging to Roman.

He should check on him, shouldn't he? Or would that make it worse? Virgil certainly didn't feel like he was in any state to help. But then there was Patton to consider- something must have happened up there. Should he look for him, too?

There was a whoosh.

“I leave you alone for five seconds and you get right back to thinking!” Remus strode across the room, flopping right back onto the couch. Held in his arms was an enormous multi-pocketed bag, items clattering around within at every jostle their owner made.

“Overthinking is literally my whole job, man, this shouldn't surprise you,” Virgil shrugged, trying not to sound as relieved as he felt.

Remus simply rolled his eyes and dropped the makeup case onto Virgil's lap, sitting criss-cross parallel to him, their knees brushing slightly.

Virgil hesitated for a moment, scanning Remus' face, but all the other did was smile and blink (one eye at a time).

Virgil zipped open the bag, rifling through and finding an overwhelming array of gaudy colors and odd products.

“Was there, like, a 'look' that you want to go for?”

Remus shrugged.

“Just go for it! I’m a blank canvas. The worse, the better.”

Virgil chuckled, picking out a few items to fit a theme he was coming up with and getting right to work.

Though it had been years since they’d last spent time together, it wasn’t awkward. In fact, it felt more comfortable than it had back then.

Remus managed to sit almost perfectly still, chattering the entire time that Virgil worked. Yet again his voice served as something like white-noise, wherein Anxiety only had to contribute whenever he chose. Remus only quieted when Virgil had to hold his face, tipping his head back to properly apply inky-black lipstick. And then, he remained silent for a moment, as they surveyed each other.

Virgil had cleared his throat, warmth prickling at his ears, and the ceaseless rambling resumed after that.

In what felt like hours and no time at all, Virgil was finally satisfied with his work.

“Alright, you're all done,” he capped the bottle of mascara in his hand, rifling through Remus' bag for a mirror, “Wanna see?”

Just as he felt the unmistakable cool surface of glass on his fingertips, Remus grabbed his wrist in both hands.

“What-?”

“Not so fast! Now it's my turn,” he announced, his zealous eyes even more prominent on his face thanks to the thick wings of eyeliner around them.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Virgil looked from the assortment of garish colors that he'd mostly stayed away from in the makeup case, and then back up at the Duke.

“Usually: yes. But I am dead serious right now, Vee.”

Remus looked pleading, legitimately pouting.

Virgil huffed. The side had gone out of his way to help him, when he really didn't have to, so…

“You're not going to just use this as an excuse to draw all over my face, are you?”

“I mean, no promises that I'll be able to restrain myself, but! Gimme a chance anyway, I can make you even hotter than you already are! Plus, we'll match then.”

“... Fine. Just- nothing too crazy, alright?”

“Again, no promises.”

Virgil groaned, but he still passed the bag to Remus.

“Holy shit...”

Remus leaned over the basin of the bathroom sink, drumming his hands on the counter excitedly. He was starry-eyed as he observed the dark, dramatic colors covering his face: metallic emerald-green eyeshadow, excessively long lashes, and winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut a bitch. His lips were black as void, but shimmered like glitter. Everything about the look was dangerous, confrontational, and grim.

“This is more out there than I’d usually wear, but. Yeah, holy shit.”

Virgil's expression, despite his best efforts, was equally awed as he peered into the mirror. The color around his eyes was mismatched; a lime to moss green gradient over his purple eye, lavender to royal violet over his green one- both colors contrasted by smudged black eyeliner under his eye. His signature Racoon Look had been maintained in that aspect, but it was even more exaggerated. In addition to that, Remus had taken to drawing various little symbols along Virgil's cheekbones, including things like upside-down crosses. Finally, there was the fuchsia lip-gloss, stark against Virgil’s paler-than-normal foundation.

“It’s okay, I guess,” Virgil breathed reverently.

“I love it!” Remus crowed, clambering onto the counter just to get a better look at himself. Somehow, he'd already managed to smudge the hell out of his eyeshadow, but it kinda… worked for him, if Virgil was being honest.

“Vee, we have got to do this more often!”

Virgil looked from his reflection to Remus', startled in a way he didn't entirely understand. The intrusive facet met his gaze through the mirror, the smile sliding off his face when Virgil didn’t respond to him.

“Right, Raggedy-Anx? It doesn't have to be this, specifically, if you really don't want to. We could just watch movies together, that's fine. Or we could do anything at all! Right?”

Virgil was still silent, lost in his mind. Remus fell from a kneeling position to sitting with his legs hanging off the counter, turning his back to the mirror.

“Was this a one-time thing? That's alright, too, if you just needed help calming down. I'm not as good as the others, I know, but if they're ever too busy again, you'll think of me when you need help, at least. Right?”

Finally, Virgil snapped out of his daze when he heard the panicked edge to Remus’ voice, feeling his anxiety as Virgil noticed the wild look that had completely erased his giddiness. It was a look that Virgil had seen plenty of times before, when Remus had been ignored far too long and was right about to start ripping things to shreds for some scraps of attention. Only then did Virgil fully recognize what the expression actually meant; the deep, terrified need that swirled behind the look, unsure of how to ask for what it really wanted after so many denials of that very want.

“Shit, sorry,” Virgil moved to stand in front of him, eye-level to Remus even though he was elevated by the counter, “Hey, it's alright, Re, everything's fine.”

Remus was still trying very determinedly to smile.

“I know! Hell, I’m not the anxious one, I'm the one that makes people anxious,” his laugh sounded like it came from a throat full of broken glass, “I just- I liked this, ya know?”

“I know,” Virgil leaned forward, coaxing Remus' arms away from where he'd wrapped them around himself, “I like this, too.”

Remus let Virgil hold onto him, surprised into something like obedience.

“You? What?”

“I like this,” it wasn't as though Virgil was expecting to hug Remus, but it seemed to have happened on its own as they moved. It was leagues nicer than he could have imagined, despite the smell. “I like you…-r company.”

“That's weird,” Remus' legs curled around Virgil’s waist. Virgil rested his hands on Remus’ hips. He listened as the creative trait's breathing evened out, vaguely aware that the situation was similar to the one just an hour or so before. Except, the roles had been reversed, of course.

“I missed you. I know I never told you, but I missed you.”

Virgil felt guilt, hot and molten, dripping down his throat. He couldn't lie; he hadn't missed Remus when he left. But now he did, in a roundabout sort of way. He missed what could have been, all of the possible understanding and friendship and likely more that he could have had for so long with Remus- all of which he'd let slip by for years. Due to just writing the artist off as disgusting, or unnecessary.

And perhaps some of that misunderstanding was Remus' fault as well, but Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to hold it against him.

“You don't have to anymore. Miss me, I mean. I'm- fuck, I'm so sorry.”

“Me too,” Remus said, pulling back to settle Virgil with a happy-yet-tearfilled gaze.

“Aw, hey,” he tightened his grip at Remus' hips, smirking, “You're gonna fuck up all my hard work on that eyeliner, Re.”

Remus laughed, loud and shrieky and him, smiling unnaturally and brilliantly wide once again. Virgil's breath caught in his throat- not for the first time that day, he found himself trapped up in that wild, energetic face.

Before Virgil was entirely aware of what he was doing, he was leaning forward, pulling Remus in by the waist. When the cackling finally stopped short, so did he, both much too far and far too close to the Duke.

He didn't have the chance to explain himself, or apologize, or anything, because soon enough understanding flashed in Remus' eyes.

“Oh, oh yes, oh hell fucking yes.”

Remus didn’t wait a second longer before closing the distance and smashing his lips against Virgil’s. A startled sound bubbled up in his throat, dying quickly as he acclimated to what was happening. Just as he did, he was reciprocating the kiss.

Their teeth clashed together uncomfortably, and Virgil was hyper-aware of the threat both his own and Remus’ fangs posed if they weren’t careful, making it far from the perfect first kiss. But he wouldn’t have wanted that anyway, nor would he have expected it. It was, somehow, better.

Remus' hand dragged down Virgil's back, his fingers fitting onto the notches of the facet’s spine. Virgil shivered, pressing himself flush against the counter (and Remus) and digging his thumbs into the trait’s hips. The motion earned him a beautiful whine from the other as the kiss deepened, growing less awkward and more heated by the second.

Virgil was unaware of how much time was passing, but when they finally parted, both were short of breath and significantly disheveled. Remus had his back pressed up against the mirror, his hair even fuzzier than its usual state, expression dazed and face flushed. From what Virgil could make out in his own reflection, he wasn't much better off.

Just as soon as they'd separated, Remus' hand was on his face, his thumb dragging just under Anxiety's lip.

“You fucked up your lipstick,” he teased.

“So did you,” Virgil answered with a smirk, leaning into the touch.

“I guess we'll have to fix it later.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus wriggled himself out of his pinned position, twisting around Virgil. He managed to situate himself and drop down from the bathroom counter, his manner suggestive, “Because all I wanna do right now is finish watching Cabin Fever with my new goth boyfriend and makeout during the boring parts.”

“Boyfriend?” Virgil ignored the jolt of warmth he felt at that, determined to stay nonchalant as he (subtly (not subtly)) slipped his hand into Remus’.

“You disagree?”

Virgil pretended to think it over, leading them to the door and taking his time to click it open.

“Nah, I don’t disagree,” he said finally, “I think I like the sound of that, actuall- yyyy.”

Virgil stopped short in the open doorway, voice dragging out in his shock. Behind him, he could feel Remus trying to crane around him to see what was happening, but Virgil didn’t move to accommodate him. Well, more accurately, he felt like he couldn’t really move at all, too busy parsing out the scene in front of him.

In the corner of the sectional- sharing a cushion- Janus and Patton sat, the former holding aloft a glass of wine, the latter snacking on a muffin. They sat with their legs tangled together, and had seemed to be engrossed with each other before the interruption. Both had paused mid-conversation to gawk in Virgil's direction, twin deer-in-headlights expressions on their faces.

“What-” Virgil began, bewildered.

“The fuck?” Remus finished, pushing his way out of the bathroom.

Janus struggled to sit up into a more dignified position and take the reigns of the conversation. It didn't take him long to overcome his surprise at the interruption, his surveying gaze sweeping over the other two Dark Sides contemplatively. The look made Virgil’s skin crawl.

“You know, we- well, we could ask you two-” he gestured at their interlocked hands, “-just the same question, couldn't we?”

For a moment, there was silence. Virgil looked from Patton to Janus. Janus looked from Virgil to Remus. Patton looked at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Remus looked at everyone and broke the silence.

“You didn't see us,” he announced, sidestepping his way to the staircase and dragging Virgil along with him, “And we didn't see you.”

Janus squinted, tipped his head, and nodded conspiratorially.

“Deal.”

With that little grant, Virgil and Remus darted up the stairs and into the sanctuary of the dimly lit hallway as quickly as they could. Luckily for them, Roman was probably either in a deep depression sleep or far into the imagination by now, and Logan Did Not Engage with Interpersonal Drama if he could help it.

There was a second for appreciating the absurdity of the situation (and catching their breath), before either spoke to each other.

“I’ve got a huge flat screen,” Remus piped up at last, jerking his thumb in the direction of his room.

“Any of us can conjure literally anything we want at any time, so I'm not sure what's impressive about that.”

Remus scowled, albeit playfully.

“Hush! Come watch someone slowly be consumed by a parasite with me!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and let Remus drag him off, his complaints accompanied by absolutely no efforts to avoid the situation.

Things were weird, there was no denying that. Maybe they'd end up being that way for a while yet, and Virgil knew he had a lot of news to catch up on, but he found that thoughts like that were way back in his mind. Whatever happened, he reasoned, he would still have this comfort. The arms of someone he was finally coming to know wrapped tight around him, playing up his back, a mouth trailing kisses on his neck as he half-watched horror films. Yes, things would be difficult with the others, but it was secondary.

There was someone on his side now. Solidly, unarguably there for him. With him. And that made it all feel a little bit easier.

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shitsngiggles666 · 5 years ago

Text

I am not one to use social media, but this whole sh*t show is something I will not take sitting down. I’ve seen some messed up things on the internet, but the cyberbullying by the “Camily” is really disturbing me. Before I get to my criticisms and thoughts, I will briefly address Luke Deacon. The allegations against him are not without evidence, namely from a public social media account. One of these allegations is very serious, and can be considered “revenge p*rn which can actually lead to charges in the UK. I’m not sure if it’s the same in the UK, but in my country Luke can be legally labeled as a sex offender if convicted! This is all I know of the situation but since many of Luke’s fans are underage girls who are also fans of Queen and the Bohemian Rhapsody movie I don’t feel this issue can be totally ignored. I consider Luke “innocent until proven guilty”, as I am an inhabitant of Freedom Land. The first issue I will address is both of Cam’s parents, as I want to discuss them before the “Camily” as they’re not directly involved with the cyber bullying, at least to my knowledge. I admit that I have never met John or Veronica Deacon. I have no knowledge of the intimate details of their family life, and their parenting skills. I do have a fair amount of knowledge of John‘s time with Queen as he is my favorite surviving member of Queen. I find researching his life and trying to understand someone who seems an overlooked and complex figure in music. Yes, John is Cam’s father and to me he’s an interest, a subject I enjoy learning and trying to understand him like I do with other things I’m interested in. Meanwhile, to Cameron he is “dad”. I understand that it must be hard seeing people on the internet either make untrue statements or discuss aspects of one’s father that isn’t flattering. I get it, But Leopard (my nickname for the victim) made it clear when replying to asks that she doesn’t know things and addressed when discussions involved speculation or rumors. She also made it very clear that she didn’t like discussing John’s competence as a father and his children. These subjects made her uncomfortable but she still addressed them in a respectful way. John Deacon was a part of one of the biggest bands in the world. People are going to discuss him. Leopard didn’t do anything wrong. She admitted that John Deacon had flaws but was still sure to admit that she doesn’t know the whole story. I think her attitude is reasonable. I saw the stream the night Cam’s parents came on stream. At first I saw it quite humorous with a boomer bumbling in, ignoring his surroundings. He almost seemed senile. But as the stream went on things got uncomfortable and my attitude changed. Cam’s parents were doing the right thing as loving parents. They came over because Cam has a history of not managing his diabetes properly. His father (his mother explained) was becoming worried about his son’s glucose levels and tried to contact him. When he wouldn’t pick up his phone his father became worried and the two went over. Cameron was peeved and rude to them. I don’t think John cared about if people on the internet saw him. He was too focused on making sure his son wasn’t in danger and that his phone was charged. He only left when he knew his son’s levels weren’t too low and his phone was charging. He even mentioned off screen that he brought some treats (I have no idea what he said, and if it was a favorite sweet or what) from the store. I’m just making an observation of a stranger peeking in, but I think it’s clear John adores his son. Maybe the scant bit of interaction I observed of John Deacon as a person (instead of Queen’s bassist) was of a devoted father who was telling his adult son “I love you, I want you to be happy and I will be devastated if anything happened to you” without saying it verbally. People have different ways of showing their love. I know (per interviews with John) he experienced loss at a very young age when his father passed away. I don’t know John’s personal thoughts and relationship with Freddie Mercury and how his death affected him personally, but watching someone’s health decline due to AIDS is probably an upsetting and unforgettable experience. I bring these two examples up because this to me suggests Cam’s dad knows first hand how delicate and precious life is, wisdom that Cam seems blissfully unaware of due to his disregard of his parents’ anxiety. Cam obviously knows his father better than I can ever, but sometimes it’s good to have a different perspective. On to Mama Deacon. Yes, she was shouting at her adult son while he was live on stream. Like Cam’s father, she was completely in the right. When she said they were making sure Cam “wasn’t dead” and that Cam’s life was at stake, she was not being overly dramatic. If a diabetic’s blood sugar is too low their body can actually go into shock and than into a coma. If one doesn’t manage their diabetes this can happen and it can kill you. Diabetes is a life threatening condition. I’m not a diabetic, and I’m sure it sucks and isn’t easy to manage. Cameron is an adult at 27. His parents will not always be around to help him. If he wants to live by himself his priority should be learning to manage his diabetes without his parents’ help. His life literally depends on it. His glucose levels is far more important than his streaming career. Until he proves he can consistently manage himself to them his glucose levels are their business. Additionally, since they pay for his flat it’s technically their’s and thus can come over when ever they want. If anyone was being “inappropriate” it was Cam. His mother carried him for nine months, at age 43. For a woman her age, pregnancy can be risky and very hard on her body. She has cared for her son’s health issues, helped him through school and has loved him unconditionally. She seems to have done everything she can to protect Cam and pushed him to be the best person he can be. And this is only what I’m aware of. At her age, she should only leave her home when completely necessary to protect herself from Covid-19, for she is in the age group most at risk. Her son wouldn’t even leave his chair to greet her. Do you know how my parents would react to me if I acted the way Cam did Sunday? Most people can only dream about the privileges Cam has. Again, I don’t know everything about Cam’s life but what I saw was a mother and father trying to do what is best for their son. If Cam is so concerned about his parents’ privacy, why didn’t he turn off his stream? He could’ve even walked off to talk to his parents rather than continuing to play and yelling at them from his chair? This whole situation can be solved simply by Cam answering his phone, keeping it charged or even walking off camera to talk to his parents rather than barking orders from his screen. As I said earlier, to them their son seems more important to them rather than their privacy. Cam makes such a big deal over their privacy but I think he also has to respect his parents’ feelings and all that they do for him. Part of respecting them should include making a better effort to take care of himself. Five hours without food excepting a bowl of cereal could give me low blood sugar to the point of trembling and not being able to concentrate. Since Cam did just that, maybe his parents’ concern of his blood sugar is not without merit. Cam mentions his mental health issues and depression. One of the ways to help stabilize his mood would be stabilizing his blood sugar. The Camily should consider my words as they criticized Cam’s parents’ behavior. I have addressed the Mama and Papa elephant in the room, I will now focus mainly on Cam’s “Camily”. Due to time restraints, I will address the Camily in a later post. In the mean time, there is a difference between “haters” and critics. A hater says things simply to hurt or insult. A critic disagrees for a reason. If anyone thinks I’m a hater that needs to be “bunny blocked” go right ahead. I don’t care what strangers, many of them children think of me. I think bunnies are cute. Send me bunny emojis if you all think I’m spreading hate. This will only lend more evidence that the Camily is leading an internet harassment campaign. BTW I have been owned by pet rabbits since I was seven. Let me tell you, Mr. Bunny is unhappy to know his good name and image is being used as a symbol to bully. No, I am not jealous of Cam. I am proud of my family and wouldn’t trade them for any other. My dad has a profession I consider noble and was the one who raised me. The same goes for my mother. My extended and nuclear family includes firemen, a priest, nurses, teachers, librarians, a researcher studying cancer, a lawyer and engineers. None are famous but I don’t care. They are good people and it doesn’t matter how much the public knows about them or how much they earn. What matters to me is that they work hard and have a strong moral character. If you do wish to harass me, I ask of one thing. Show my post to Cameron Deacon and have him read my post (and any later ones I hope to soon put up) on his Livestream. If Cameron thinks I’m being a bully or am wrong about anything, please have him show this to his parents, the two people who love him more than anyone else does. If they think I’m wrong about anything or am bullying their son, have them PM me so we can discuss. Do not bully anyone who posts or likes this.

#Cameron Deacon #Camily #cyber bullying #cults #John Deacon

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illyrianwingspans · 5 years ago

Text

Do Not Go Gentle: Trouble

Link to song

Synopsis: The one where Tamlin figures things out, and Feyre loses everything.

TW: domestic violence, domestic abuse. Please read with caution.

Ao3 link

Chapter 5: Trouble

I was asleep when Tamlin got home Sunday night. Well, I was ‘asleep’. I’d felt the kiss he pressed to my bare shoulder before rolling over onto his side. Then I stayed up most of the night rethinking all that’d happened in the last few months, wondering how life had gotten this messed up.

Rhysand’s words came back to me, how he’d promised that he’d answer my questions tomorrow morning. Tamlin had never explicitly agreed to answering my questions, and at this point, I was in no mood to try and coax any sort of information out of him. Both my mind and my body couldn’t handle it anymore.

The ceaseless commotion of the city life kept me company as I stared out the floor to ceiling windows that stood on the far end of the room, the wall closest to my side of the bed. I used to sleep on the other side—I always felt like I was going to roll off the bed or something and find myself tumbling down onto the sidewalk in my sleep. But after the accident, I’d switched sides: I needed the open space. I’d been stuck inside that car for too long, and the claustrophobia hadn’t left me since.

Blood splattering across the concrete surfaced in my mind, and my eyes snapped open. I would not regress. I could not.

If I went back to who I was after the accident, I was afraid I’d never make it through this.

So I compiled the list of questions mentally until my eyelids felt too heavy and I drifted off, unable to keep myself awake any longer.

It felt like I was fucking up every order that came through. Whether it was cream instead of milk or two sugars instead of one, I kept pouring the cups down the sink and starting over, the white ball in my chest growing tighter and tighter with each screw-up.

What made matters worse was my wrist. It kept aching, dully when I wasn’t using it, and in sharp bursts whenever a rush pulled through. My forehead was lined with sweat, and my face was practically sore with every wince.

By the time lunch swept around, I almost got up in a man’s face because I put ‘too much’ whipped cream on his hot chocolate. He’d stormed out of the shop with his middle finger up, and I was ready to climb out from behind the counter and hunt him down. I was snarling like a feral cat as Rhysand walked in, eyebrows raised.

“Did you make him a decaf by accident?” He called out smugly from the entrance. He just stood there, leaning against the wooden doorframe, and I rolled my eyes.

I said, “Try too much whipped cream, if that’s even an issue.”

Rhysand chuckled and finally ventured further into the shop until he was leaning up against the counter, sitting upon one of the bar stools. I made him his usual, in a ceramic mug this time, knowing he’d be lingering today—and Rhysand accepted the mug gratefully.

“You know what, I’ll take one of those tuna paninis as well, if you don’t mind,” he added.

“Feeling adventurous today?”

“No, I’m ravenous.”

“Tuna hits the spot for you?” I wrinkled my nose.

“Pescatarian,” he explained, “and there are other things I’d like to devour, but that would be inappropriate to mention while I’m eating.”

My cheeks warmed—nearly as hot as the panini press—and I replied, “You’ve never held yourself back before.”

“Yes, but telling you exactly how I’d like you splayed out on that table over there would put a dent in your engagement I think.”

I choked on the breath in my throat and turned around to face him, feline smirk and all. “And what makes you think I’d ever say yes to you?”

“Well, the heated cheeks, for one. And the way you froze, for another. I’m quite good at reading body language, Feyre.”

“Can you read this?” I held up my middle finger and presented the sandwich to him, of which he immediately took a big. Pain flared in my wrist and I lowered my sweater-clad arm, trying to shake out whatever flare up I’d triggered.

“Loud and clear,” he smirked around the bite before wiping his mouth with a brown napkin. “You alright?” He pointed to my hand.

“Fine,” I said dismissively. As soon as he swallowed the bite, the first question on my mind escaped my lips. “What kind of pills are they?”

The man stared at me for a few moments before taking a long sip from his mug. The tension sat heavy upon us as our eyes locked together. He set the mug down carefully and straightened out his napkin, then said, “The pills are a variant of hallucinogens that induce intense feelings of euphoria. They’re crossed with stimulant side effects so they don’t make you drowsy. People—mostly white collar workers—are using them for party drugs at the moment, but they’re getting popular in the streets. They call them Cauldron. C’s for short.”

“Why?”

The smirk returned. “Because you never know what they’ve brewed in that shit.”

I snorted. “And I assume you’ve taken it before?”

Another sip of coffee, and a look of disgust. “Never. I don’t do drugs.”

“You work in the drug industry and don’t do drugs?”

“Some things aren’t as black and white as you’d like them to be, Feyre,” was all he said before taking another bite of his sandwich.

“And how long has this operation been going on?”

“Three years,” Rhysand said around a mouthful of tuna, and my stomach dropped. Three years? Tamlin’s been keeping this from me all this time?

He must’ve read the expression on my face because he clarified, “Your boy’s only been involved for the past six months. He’s been offered several times before and well…” my eyebrow quirked, and Rhysand shook his head. “Can’t tell you that. Confidential.”

I sighed. “Fine. How much does each shipment cost?”

“The individual pills go for about ten to fifteen dollars apiece, so I’d say a week’s worth of shipments range between…” his eyes flipped back and forth as he did the mental math. “Around fifty and sixty five thousand dollars.”

My jaw dropped. Tamlin was making that much? In one week?

“A percentage of it goes to Tamlin. I don’t know how much, so don’t ask me, but it’s a nice percentage: just enough to tease him and keep him wanting more.”

“More?”

“Hybern wants a contract. Tamlin might think this is short-term, but once you’re in with them…” Rhysand shook his head. “There’s no going back. They will extort and manipulate and black mail to no end. The law bends around them because of Hybern’s guys in Prythian PD. He’s basically untouchable.”

Untouchable. So Tamlin was going to get roped into this, and we were going to have to live the rest of our lives as fucking drug pushers.

How could he have been so stupid? Why couldn’t he have put his investments into rising stock? Open a new business? Anything except criminal activity?

“The people handling the shipments. Who are they?” My voice was low and patchy. Everything about this was only wearing me down, more weight to add on my shoulders despite the aches that were already there.

Only Rhysand noticed the dip in my mood instantly. Softly, he said, “After Bron and Hart screwed up the last shipment, it’s been my guy. He’s one of my right hands, and he poses absolutely no harm to you. The one thing Tamlin isn’t lying about is that fact that you are safe here.”

They both kept saying that word: safe.

But ever since my hands had touched those plastic wrappers, I haven’t felt safe for a second since. I kept looking over my shoulder as I walked down the street. Every time a new customer came in, I had to look them up and down and evaluate: were they a cop? A junkie looking for a fix? Low level pushers looking for some product to steal?

Everybody seemed to be fine with the drugs except for me. And I wasn’t sure how much longer I could handle this.

“How do I know I can trust you?” I asked quietly.

Rhysand took the last bite of his sandwich and stared at me as he chewed. Slowly. Once he swallowed, he said, “Because you’ve got nobody else to turn to.”

Tears filled my eyes when he said those words. It was true: I had nobody else. Not even my fiancée or my best friend could answer my questions because they were too damn head strong and stubborn. They thought they were protecting me.

I understood why. But I also really, really didn’t.

“Feyre.”

My gaze snapped back up to take in the concern flickering in Rhysand’s eyes. He licked his lips then said, “You have me. It seems like you’ve got nobody right now, but you have me.” With that, he pulled out a pen and scribbled a phone number on a new napkin, then slid it over the counter to me.

“If there’s absolutely anything I can do, you call me. No matter the time or day.”

I looked from him to the napkin and back. “Why?”

It took Rhysand a few moments before he said, “Because I see you. I see you, and I see your pain, and I just want to help make it better in any fractional way that I can.”

There were so many things I wanted to say but Rhysand swiftly got to his feet, drained the rest of his coffee then turned on his heel, heading straight for the door.

“Rhysand?” I called.

He paused and slowly looked over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” I said, and it wasn’t sarcastic or bitten out like a witty retort, but true. Sincere.

“Call me Rhys, darling.” He replied as he adjusted the collar of his suit. “Only my enemies call me Rhysand.”

This time, he'd left a fifty beneath his plate.

This week, when the shipments came, I stared at the man handling the units from the entry to the storage room. We exchanged no words beside a heavy, tension-filled gaze as he unloaded the pastries and sandwiches, then loaded the boxes and boxes of 'coffee' silently. He was tall, darker skinned with that same jet black hair. If I wasn’t imagining things, I could’ve sworn he was a copy of Rhys and Cassian, only with his features scrambled: where Rhys’s eyes were wide and bright, this man’s were sharper. More narrow. And his hair was shorter, sticking closer to his scalp, which only further accentuated those high cheekbones. If they were brothers, like Cassian had hinted at, it must’ve been one hell of a gene pool.

The man had said nothing, and neither had I. Just a normal day. Just a normal shipment.

Yet all my mind could think of were drugs, drugs, drugs.

To get everything off my mind, I texted Cassian.

I need to see you. Tonight.

Within minutes, he responded. Feyre, we’ve been over this. You’re engaged. Sex is off the table, no matter how attractive I may be.

I rolled my eyes. You know what I mean. Are you free?

Of course. I’ll see you at seven. You bring the wine, I’ll bring the condoms.

Asshole.

The minute hand couldn’t move fast enough today. At some point I tried experimenting with the syrups and trying to configure new drinks for the holidays coming up—pumpkin spice season was fizzling out—but everything tasted like hyperglycaemia and cholesterol. Plus, my right wrist was still killing me even after I’d iced it yesterday.

There was nothing else I could do besides wait. Wait, and let my thoughts send me careening off the deep-end, unable to roll myself back in. Even in the light of day the parasite of darkness wouldn’t go away, and I was stuck, sitting on the stool, trying to blink back tears every few minutes as the waves of emotions continued to crest through me until the day ended.

I texted Tamlin before my shift was over. I’m meeting with a university friend for dinner tonight.

His response came seconds later. Who?

You’ve never met them, I lied. It’s just dinner. I’ll be home around eight.

Fine.

It was one word, and in my mind it sounded like a growl, but at least I got his approval. Once five o’clock came around and I was off my shift, I went home, shovelled some left-overs into my mouth then set out into the streets and down to Wind avenue. This time of year I needed to bundle myself up. It was going to snow any day soon—but for now, Prythian was stuck in limbo where the rain didn’t freeze to snow but it was cold enough to bite you in the ass. Trees shed their leaves and spread them through the city like an epidemic of wildfire. Every where I walked, those patterns of orange and red and gold were stuck in the nooks and crannies of the sidewalk. Fall used to be my favourite season, but this year it fell short. The lack of daylight was a blessing and a curse—more time for the stars to shine, but more time for the darkness to reign.

Cassian was already at the reception desk when I entered the building. His mouth was set into a concerned frown. “What’s going on, Feyre?”

In the month or so that we’d grown to know each other, Cassian could read me, better than anybody in my life could for some reason. He was probably the closest person I had to a friend—him, Rhys and Alis (though it was kind of in Alis’s job description to be my friend). I could read him, too. On days where he pushed his body to the limits, when his jokes ran dry and his eyes lacked the light and amusement they usually held, I tried to liven him up in any way that I could.

But tonight I didn’t want to talk. Tonight, I just wanted to punch and kick until my knuckles bled and my knees buckled.

“Fight first. Talk later.” With that, I wandered into the changing rooms.

When I walked out, Cassian was already in the ring, fists raised. I didn’t hesitate before donning the gloves he’d laid out for me and raising my own hands.

And Cassian didn’t hesitate to throw the first punch.

Another punch. I pivoted on the ball of my right foot, and saw that his left side was open. Instinctively, my left hand prepared for a low hook, but Cassian anticipated the move and went for an uppercut instead. I knocked it out of the way with a simple swipe of my right hand, and winced at the bone to bone impact of his forearm onto my wrist. Even with the thick sweater, I still felt the full brunt of hit and ground my teeth.

“You alright?”

“Yes,” I spit out, and tried a right switch kick. His leg met his elbow instantly in a flawless block, and he followed up with a jab only to find I’d stepped out of the way. With every movement, though, my wrist throbbed, and I had to close my eyes for a few seconds as a wave of pain rushed over me.

“Feyre, I’m not fucking around anymore. What’s going on?” He lowered his fists and stepped out of his stance to stand in front of me. Scowling, I pushed his chest with both my gloves fists.

“Come on,” I egged him on, “stop it. Let’s fight.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow, which normally would’ve been a playful gesture, but his features were filled with contempt. “Seriously? You want to fight, Archeron?” Then he grabbed my right wrist. Hard.

I gasped out a grunt of pain and my left hand instinctively slapped his grip away. “What the hell, Cassian?” He let go and I cradled my wrist in my hand. Wildfire spread through my arm, and I had to bite my lip to keep it from trembling.

“My office. Now.”

Without another word, he stepped out of the ring and into the employee’s room. Sighing, I stripped off my gloves—careful of the sharp pains shooting up my arm—and followed suit, knowing I was in for a round of even more painful lies.

The employee’s room was a foldout table and a mini kitchen with a fridge. A hallway continued past the shared area and into an office, where I could hear Cassian rifling through drawers. When I entered the space, I blinked in surprise: it was neat, professional and extremely tedious. By looking at Cassian, most would think he was a slob, but his desk was organized immaculately, right down to the alignment of his pens next to the open folder on his desk. Only he wasn’t in this room. There was a light on in what looked like a closet space just beyond the bookshelves lining the walls, the only light shining through the room besides the moonlight entering through the wide windows.

It wasn’t a storage space like I’d thought, but an infirmary. There was a singular uplifted patient bed up against the far wall lined with wax paper, and Cassian squatted down as he rifled through the drawers.

“Sit down,” he ordered. No tenderness, no softness or concern. Concern had left the window as soon as Cassian had taken those gloves off.

“Cassian, seriously, I’m fine—”

“If you say those words again, I’m firing you as my friend. Now sit down and shut up.”

Sighing, I shuffled over to the bed and hoisted myself up carefully with my left hand. The paper crinkled beneath me, and I stared at my toes as my legs swung back and forth below me. The sleeves still hid the bruises, which had faded to a lighter shade of green-purple. Not as sickening as they were the day before, but still raunchy enough to incite concern.

“There,” he said, before pushing off the ground and standing before me. He held out his hand and ordered, “wrist.”

I shook my head and clasped my hands between my thighs. I couldn’t meet his eyes, which I knew were staring down at me piercingly, ready to explode any second.

“Feyre,” he said, “you’re hurt. Please, just let me help you.”

Ever since I was a kid, I’d never relied on anyone else.

Nesta and Elain, my sisters, both had two wheel bikes while I was still stuck in training wheels. My father told me it was because they were older and were more experienced—but I didn’t care. I wanted to be like them, I wanted to prove that I was just as good as them. So I stole Elain’s bike one day when they weren’t home and tried to pedal by myself.

I fell so many times that day I was surprised I didn’t break a limb. Scratches lined my body up and down, my mother was horrified when she saw me and told me I’d been irresponsible. Child-like. Nobody helped me as I’d poured the anti-septic on the cotton swabs and dabbed at the sensitive flesh. Nobody patted my head and told me I was going to be okay. No, I bandaged myself up, then got back on Elain’s bike the next day, and the day after that until I could finally ride the damn thing without dying in the process.

The same pattern followed me throughout my life. I relied on no one, nobody except myself.

I don’t know what it was about the words that incited the burst of fear. Maybe it was the stress or the pain or the exhaustion, but I began to cry silent tears as I rolled up my sleeve and showed Cassian the bruises. His face fell as he gently examined them.

“Feyre,” he murmured, as he gently prodded the marks, “you’ve got to tell me what happened.”

“I fell.”

“Bullshit.”

“Cassian, I’m a clumsy person. You’ve told me yourself that I’ve got two left feet.”

There was fire in his eyes when he said, “Fall injuries would’ve caused bruising to your knees, maybe torso. But wrists?” He gently took both my wrists in his hands and held them up. A breath hitched in my throat as I remembered being pressed up against the window pane and feeling like death was standing just above my shoulder. “I’m not an idiot. So stop lying to me.”

Carefully, he released me and I let my arms fall to my lap, not caring that another flare of pain shot through my nerves. Never again would I be able to look Cassian in the eyes. Not now that he knew the truth—well, guessed correctly at the truth.

“If somebody is hurting you—” he tried once more with thunder in his voice, but I interjected quickly.

“It’s not going to happen again. It happened once, it was a mistake, and everything’s fine now.” The words were hollow. Empty. Because something in me knew that they were lies.

Cassian wasn’t appeased, though. His jaw was clenched so tight I thought he was going to break a tooth as he unwrapped the compression brace and slid my wrist into it, then velcroed it shut. I’d probably have to take it off as soon as I got home to not piss off Tamlin further. If he found out I ever told somebody about this… I didn’t even want to imagine his fury.

“I can call someone,” Cassian said softly, “one of my closest friends is a lawyer. She can get you out of this.”

“Stop,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut at the tears that threatened to fall, “please.”

My voice broke on the word. So pathetic and weak and broken…

“Okay,” Cassian murmured, and as my chest began to shake with sobs, both of his arms wrapped around me and he held me tightly against his chest. “It’s okay.” He kept murmuring it over and over into my ear, but all I could thin was it’s not, it’s not, it’s not okay.

He told me to call him if anything ever were to happen to me, and I promised I would, but I’ve been promising a lot of people a lot of things these days that weren’t true. He gave me one last hug in the lobby before releasing me, and I was on my way back to the condo in the cool night.

Only when I entered the parking garage, Tamlin’s car was already there. He said he was coming home late tonight. I thought I’d have time before I got home to shower. Gods, I was still in my workout clothes.

My hands were shaking as I rode the elevator up. Terror streaked through me, cold and pulsing within my limbs, and I had to clamp my jaw shut to keep my teeth from chattering. I could probably lie my way out of it. Besides, Tamlin was probably just in is office losing track of time with paper work like he always did.

The doors opened after punching in the key code. Silence blanketed the apartment eerily, and my footsteps echoed throughout the space. HIs shoes were at the door, and his coat was in its usual spot on the coat hanger. Quietly, I padded through the penthouse down the hallway into our room. He wasn’t there either. I made the best of it and changed quickly into different clothes—more appropriate for an outing with a friend—then stepped back out after stuffing my workout clothes to the bottom of my hamper along with the wrist brace.

Light shined through the crevice of his office door. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself, then knocked softly. “Tamlin?”

“Come in.” Cold, dismissive. My stomach lurched at the sound, but I opened the door nonetheless and found myself facing him from where he sat behind his dark wooden desk. Bookshelves lined either side of the room, and the windows stood behind Tamlin, looking over the city. A print of Spring Corp tower hung proudly on one wall in black and white. My eyes darted between Tamlin, whose scowl made my knees quake, and the half empty glass clutched in his right hand.

“How was dinner?” He asked, but there was no sincerity in his voice.

I swallowed hard. “Fine. What’d you have?”

He licked his lips, then pushed off his desk to stand. “I bought soup from Suriel’s again for you. But you had other plans tonight.”

My face fell. “I’m sorry, Tam. It was so last minute, and I didn’t want to blow her off again—”

He laughed, and it was empty, hollow. “Blow her off? No. But you probably blew him, didn’t you?”

Heat spread through my cheeks. “What?”

“The guy you were with. The gym on Wind Avenue?”

The burning in my chest was like wildfire. “How did you…”

“Sorry, Feyre, but you don’t have friends,” he spat the word like venom, and I flinched. “I knew as soon as you texted me that you were lying to me.”

“So you followed me?” I demanded, incredulous. How could he be so invasive?

“Well, apparently you’ve been doing this a lot for the past two months, so what’s the arrangement? Casual sex? Or are you actually in love with this low-life?” He turned to look out over the city, and beneath his white shirt I could see his muscles tensing. “Every weekend you go to Wind Avenue Gym. You meet with the same man at the reception, then there’s at least an hour that you’re unaccounted for.”

“Are you fucking stalking me?”

“Tamlin—”

“Answer me,” he snapped and slammed his fist down on the wood.

It shook something within me, and I quipped back with equal ferocity, “Where is it that you go, eh? You don’t see me prying into your life every second of the day.”

“Because I am out there working my ass off to put food on the table! To pay for this place, to pay for everything! And this is how you repay me? By fucking other guys?”

“I’m not cheating on you!” I shrieked, my hands clutching the emptiness in front of me. “Where the fuck is this coming from?”

Tamlin strode out from behind the desk until we were facing each other, our faces only inches apart. Deathly low, he said, “I know that you meet him. At the gym. What is it, you guys fuck in the locker rooms or something?”

Tears spilled onto my cheeks at the absurdity of the situation. My voice was rough and breaking as I yelled, “I’m not cheating on you, I am working out! It’s just boxing, for fuck’s sake Tamlin, I’m trying to protect myself!” My hands clutched my chest and a sob tore through me. “I’m trying to have some sort of control on the situation that you’ve put me in!” I pointed an accusatory finger at him and his eyes flared with rage.

“Why not ask me? Why not come to me for help?” His fist pounded at his chest.

“I did and you said no. You completely shut me down, like you always do.”

“You don’t trust me,” he spat, then continued louder, “Why don’t you trust me?”

“I don’t trust you because you’re a liar and a fucking drug dealer!” The words tore from me.

Like sparks and a match, we ignited. The heat, the rage, the anger simply exploded, until all that remained was my broken, limp body, and his heavy breathing as the adrenaline faded, and time regained its normal rhythm.

I couldn’t quite remember what’d happened. Either purposefully, or because I’d kept my eyes shut tight the entire time, all I remembered was lying on the floor.

He slammed me into his desk. Hard. That I knew. I think I hit my head on the floor after his hands let go and I fell limp, but all I knew was that I laid there, still. Un-breathing. Hoping, wishing that maybe this time it was hard enough to kill me.

“Feyre,” he whispered, and tears streamed down my face.

“It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Feyre,” he moaned, like he was the one in pain, like I did this to him.

I breathed, “It’s okay. Just…” My breath rattled in my lungs, and I let out a wheezing cough. “Give me some space.”

"Feyre," he said once more, and his footsteps grew closer.

"Don't," I sobbed, "please, don't touch me. Go. Just go."

I didn’t remember him leaving. I didn’t remember how he’d stepped over and brushed my hair with the back of his hand despite my protests. All I could do was lie on that floor, close my eyes, and pray that this was some sort of nightmare, and that I’d be waking up any second.

That night, Tamlin took a piece of me. He’d taken them slowly over the time we were together, so infinitesimally small that I hadn’t noticed until I was left with a withered version of my self, the version of myself that let herself be used like a brute’s rag doll.

Today, Tamlin took a piece of me. One that I’d never, ever get back again.

The next morning, Tamlin got on a plane. There was a business meeting he had to attend on the west coast. I tried to convince myself that the tears in his eyes as he whispered another apology to me were genuine, that he truly felt sorry for what’d he’d done, but I knew better.

Yet still, despite the fact that I knew better, I couldn’t leave him.

Because as I stood there in the back of the storage room, trying to stifle my sobs and wipe away the tears on my face, I realized that I had no where else to go. I didn’t have money. I didn’t have friends. My family had all but disowned me after I left.

I had nothing to my name and no one to rely on. The thought settled within me like a heavy stone.

The bell to the shop rang, and I tried to wipe my face, to make myself look as presentable as I could. I smiled at the two men who approached the counter and asked, “Hi, what can I get you today?”

“Shut the fuck up,” said the first man, voice like gravel, “and bring us the drugs.”

My heart stopped. I looked at the man, who was of average height and brown, greasy hair. His eyes, though, were blue like crystal waters. The one beside him couldn’t have been older than me—and he probably looked just as terrified.

Shakingly, I replied, “I—I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about—”

The man reached into his back pocket and the next thing I knew there was cold metal pressed against my forehead. “Go get the C’s,” the man threatened, “or I start shooting.”

The bullet clicked into the chamber, and I stopped breathing.

#dngg #acotar #acomaf #acowar #sjm #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #feyre #rhys #rhysand #feysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction

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that-zambie-writer · 5 years ago

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A/N : First post! Requests are welcomed!

“ Told you I’ve killed for less “.

Summary : At the beginning of the war, Daryl is saved by Y/N. It’s clear you’re the key to winning the war against Negan and Daryl brings you into the fold. This imagine follows the events after the war and how he tries to come to terms with accepting your love for him.

The day he first saw you was a day he'd never forget. Not just because you had blood covering you from head to toe or because you had just beaten three men to death for him with your bare hands, but because of the words that came out of your mouth. Daryl had thanked you for saving his life, but all you said was " Don't worry about it. I've killed for less " with a smirk as your nose bled down your lips. Normally, Daryl would've found you to be a psychopath, but in that moment he knew you could be useful in the war with Negan.So without any family or group, you accepted his offer to fight for the good of his people and you did just that.

You slayed through half of Negan’s numbers by yourself and would've been responsible for his death if Rick hadn't told you to stop. That it wasn't what Carl wanted. While you had only known the boy for a short time before he passed, you had to let Rick do this. Even though you wanted the man dead. This gained the trust and love of the various communities which earned you your own place in Alexandria after the war. You'd gained so many friends and admirers, but out of all of them you still gave your full attention to Daryl. He was gold in your eyes, but you seemed never to be able to earn his love.

Which now that he thinks back on it, he was the crazy one. Every guy in any community, even the old saviors who watched you beat Negan to a pulp, would die to be in his place, but he wouldn’t let himself believe it. Even after chasing for him for over a year, he still wouldn’t believe it. Not even when carol herself tried to tell him. Because you were all he’s ever wanted. Why would you want him? Someone could surely make you happy. God knows they were trying to. You wanted Daryl though, but eventually after being ignored for so long you accepted he didn’t want you the way you believed he did. So, you left Alexandria in hopes to put distance between you and him. Rick wasn’t too happy with your decision, but he understood it. And it turned out Carol and the king needed help running the kingdom, so they offered you their head position of security and admission into the kingdom.

You gladly took the position and one month into it, you were starting to feel better about not seeing Daryl every day. Even though you still wonder if he misses the closeness you two shared. Ezekiel and carol began to notice your sadness and begun to suggest you start to date someone they admire, but you always decline. It was only the day it begun to grow cold outside for the second time since the war that you even consider their offer.

" If I agree will you shut up finally ? " You sigh, rubbing your face too avoid seeing Ezekiel's smile. Carol and Jerry grin from his sides " I will entirely shut my mouth if you agree, Y/N ". You peek from between your fingers and roll your eyes at their smiling faces " Fine. Set it up! But I'm only agreeing to fifteen minutes of my time! ". They do a small cheer as this was a big conquest for the three and you left the old auditorium to begin your working day. The chill hit your bones welcomingly and as much as you didn't want things to change for you, you tell yourself that it’s good for you. You aren’t the woman to let a man bring her so down and to be honest you’re lonely.

Atleast when you lived in Alexandria, you had the hope Daryl would come around, but here you felt empty. No hope at all. " This will be good for you " You whisper, moving towards the breakfast line to ensure everything goes smoothly. Generally there are no issues with the food line, other than Mrs.Perkins having a blood sugar spike, but you still like to make sure it goes as planned.

Daryl on the other hand is just finishing his day. He'd spent the entire night hunting , anything to keep his mind off of the reality that you aren’t coming back. He's missing the nights you two spent together. Which was every night. Rather that was you cooking for him, sharing drinks, or watching Judith while Rick got alone time with michonne. It was his routine. It has nearly been a year since you up and left over night. You didn't even say goodbye. He feels responsible. He knows you were waiting for him to put himself out there, but you couldn't wait anymore. What truly hurts the worse for him is that he can still smell your perfume on all of his clothes. He’d given it to you as a Christmas gift and you wore it everyday. He couldn't escape you.

He’s greeted at Alexandria by the usual crew on guard, but he’s in no mood to respond.He’s tired and justs wants to crawl in bed after the long fruitless night he had. Which is exactly what he does, but as soon as he climbs into bed he smells you there too. Memories flood in of your laughter and the nights you slept in his bed, content enough with just being near him and knowing he was near. His eyes locked into the purple wine stain you left one night. You both were so buzzed that it didn’t bother either person and he remembers you tossing the rest of your wine on him. “ What are you going to do about it huh? “ You dare, eyes full and doe eyed waiting for him to react.

He only threw the rest onto your shirt causing you to scream in laughter. You climbed over to him to try and retaliate, but he grabbed both of your wrists before you could " What do you think your doin' ? ". He can still see the dark in your eyes that seemed to draw him in every time and the plump in your lips that begged to be kissed. But he didn't. He let you go. And a week later you were gone. He grips the sheet where the stain was lighter now. As sad as it was, he wants to just stay right here for the rest of his life. Or until your smell fades away. Though the world has other plans for him as his door receives a knock from Rick who lets himself in.

Daryl shoots up and finds him in the kitchen, leaning over the counter with his hands covering his elbows. As soon as Daryl is in his sights , he straightens up and gives him a look over " I need you to go to the kingdom ". This obviously is a lot to ask since everyone knows the reason why he hasn’t returned there in a year. " No.Not happenin' " He grunts, as if the idea hadn't come to him every day. Rick ignores his objections " We need you to go and discuss with Ezekiel about sending more people. I've already asked myself, but he's not willing to give us anymore than he already has ". Daryl scoffs " And what makes you think he's going to change his mind for me? ". It's obvious why as Rick grows silent. " No, no fucking way. She left for a reason " Daryl argues, pacing infront of his friend.

" She's the head of his security, Daryl. She is the only one who can convince him it's ok to lend the people we need to get the extra seeds. We won't survive without them " Rick explains, but Daryl is still pacing. " Then why haven't you talked to 'Er? " He throws his hand towards Rick. That was obvious as well. Not only did you need space from Daryl, but you needed space from everyone who knows what was going on. If anyone from Alexandria planned a visit to the kingdom you would conveniently offer to go on a run. Which Ezekiel agreed to every time. " How am I supposed to convince her to give us anything when she didn't even say goodbye?".

Rick can see the hurt in his words and offers Daryl a piece of advice " I know you don't want to believe it Daryl, but she loved you. When Negan took you she fought like hell to bring you back and she did didn't she ? With no care for her own life? ", he asks and Daryl nods ," So I'm willing to bet she still cares for you and for Alexandria. She just needs to be reminded of that ". Daryl is still uneasy about it all, but Rick now grabs his shoulder " You need to get to her before someone else does ".

---

It's nearly midnight when you find your way back to your home. Or the small office that was turned into a bedroom for you with the adjoined bathroom. It wasn't close to what you had back in Alexandria, but it was enough. You shut your door behind you and strip off your shoes with a yawn. All you want right now was a shower and a half decent night sleep, but you wouldn't get either tonight. You were gathering your clothes to do so, but your radio begins to blare and you furrow your eyebrows at it. " Front gate to Y/N. Front gate to Y/N. We've got a visitor ". You grab the device from your belt and answer it " This is Y/N. Who's the visitor? ". You're already slipping back into your boots to address the visitor. " Uh- I think you should come see for yourself ". You roll your eyes at the man on the other end of the radio. People are so dramatic here.

You leave your room and go back outside , taking your time to get to the front gate. It’s probably just Henry messing around and you would have to tell his parents so you aren't too concerned. Once there, you yell up to the gate keeper " You just made him stand out there? Open it! ". They do as commanded , slightly afraid of your tone of voice since it wasn't that long ago everyone saw you kill everything in your path , and you wait for the gate to reveal a sad looking Henry. " Henry I told you last time if you snuck out again I would tell your mom an- " You begin to scold before you see his face, but stop as your eyes land on the all too obvious not Henry.

You shine your flash light on the hunter and he squints back at you, but says nothing. Your a loss for words for the man you haven't seen in almost a year. What did he want now? " I need to talk to you" He tells you, obviously aware of what you're thinking. You narrow your eyes at him " Talk then ". It's obvious your not as welcoming as you were a year ago, but he expects as much. " Rick sent me here to talk about the run to get seeds for Alexandria ". He watches you grind your teeth, but your words do not come out angrily " Ezekiel already made up his mind. I'm sorry if you wasted a trip all the way here . I'm sure we can find you a room to stay in for the night ".

Daryl takes steps closer so that you can now speak privately " You know Alexandria will fail without those seeds. People will starve ". You switch weight from foot to foot " And I also know that Ezekiel and carol make the rules. They are the ones you need to talk to ". It's obvious Daryl can see right through you " We both know you run security and I'm sure a lot more behind tha' scenes here. If you so much as whisper something their way they'll agree ". He watches your face twist in agitation, but you still look breath taking. " What makes you think I should hear you out ? ". Your statue is intimidating, but he doesn't stand down " Because you never said goodbye and you know deep down your home is Alexandria. No matter how much you try and tell yourself otherwise ".

This causes your heart to twist uncomfortably, but you don't show it. Instead, you nod up at the guard on duty " He's coming in ".

You lead Daryl to the building where you interview people for admission into the kingdom. Which hasn't been used in awhile, so you take the opportunity to give it some use. You flip the lights on inside and sit at the desk , purposely keeping your intimidating composure. He sits across from you without hesitation and now in the light he can see the bags under your eyes. You haven’t slept well it quite some time and he knows you can see the same of him. " Why should I risk the lives of my people for seeds ? ". Daryl knew coming into this you wouldn't be happy to see him, but he also didn't expect you to treat him like an outsider. " So that others don't starve. The sanctuary is at risk too".

Your face holds no emotion causing Daryl to lose his patience " You use to see a future for Alexandria and the sanctuary. What changed ? ". For the first time he sees true emotion in your eyes as you stand up from your seat, sending it sliding back from you " Don't you dare sit there and asked me what changed when you're the reason why! Yes, I care for the sanctuary and Alexandria! I risked my life for them and everyone else! Or did you just forget all of the shit I did for you! ". The room grows quiet as you address the real issue between you both. Daryl looks you up and down, finally seeing what everyone has told him for so long. " You did it all for me? " He rasps, now loosing eye contact.

You roll your eyes " Of course I did it all for you , Daryl! What normal person who didn't love you fight for you like I have? Sure, it became more when I met the others , but you and I ... We were family ". Daryl can hear the pain in your voice causing him to stand up and finally make a move. Sure, he isn’t exactly sure how this whole romance thing goes, but he knows he has to do something now or he'll truly loose you. " What are you- " You begin to question as he grabs your hand, but stop yourself as you can see he's finally coming around.

" M'not good at this stuff Y/N .. You don't know how bad all of those nights I .. " He's lost for words, but you understand what he's trying to say. You always are patient with him and he couldn’t be more grateful for it right now." You don't have to " You grab his hand tighter. He shakes his head " I do. 'Cause you deserve that". You smile softly at him for the first time tonight and he takes the opportunity to get closer to you. At this point, your faces are inches away, but he is still hesitant to do anything. So , you being the blunt and impulsive person you are, you place your free hand on the back of his neck and draw his lips to yours. He's surprised at first, but after a moment he's moving his lips with yours in sync. It doesn't take long for him to find his groove with you and he moves you to where your back is to the desk with your fingers dug into his hair.

Oddly, at this moment you remember Carol and Ezekiel set you up a blind date tomorrow which causes you to begin laughing. You pull back as you can't contain yourself and Daryl gives you a confused look " What? ". You try and stifle your laughter " Ezekiel tried to set me up on a blind date for tomorrow. What am I supposed to say now? ". Daryl's eyebrows knit together harshly at the thought of how close you were to being someone else's " Fuck him . You're with me now ". You don't have time to react as he crashes his lips back down on yours, now more confident.

His hands grasp the back of your neck now and he only pauses to ask you " Where's your room ?".

The next morning, Daryl wakes up before you. It's clearly later in the morning as he can hear your radio going off with different voices, but he doesn't care that the world outside is wondering where you are. Currently, your cuddled into his side with your head lying on his chest. You've only got a thin sheet covering your frame right now and nothing could be more important than that. He runs his fingers down your side causing you to stir a little, but you don't wake. You haven't slept well in a long time so he doesn't try it again.

But of course the world has other plans for you.

There's a hard knock at the door causing you to jump awake and reach for your gun,but Daryl stops you causing you to realize where you are. You sigh in relief and give him a smile before calling out to whoever's knocking " Who is it ?". There's a pause before the answer " It's jerry. I didn't want to wake you, but you uh have that appointment ". You don't think of a response in time so Daryl gets up and speaks for you. He shoves his jeans on and opens the door enough so jerry only sees him " Cancel it ". You cover your mouth so Jerry doesn't hear you laugh. " Oh Hey Daryl! Didn't know you were here.. Um I'll uh - " Jerry gets interrupted. " -Cancel it Jerry ". " Right " He nods and Daryl shuts the door.

"Daryl! " You laugh, sitting up with the sheet around you. " What ? " He asks, climbing back on the bed as if he didn't do what he just did. " Be more obvious would you! " You shove him playfully. He shrugs , grabbing your hand " Wanted him to have the information right s'all". Smiling, you let his hands trail up your sides as they find their place on your hips.

" 'sides wasn't as bad as Rick and michonne ".

---

- Present time three years later -

" Daddy? " the two year old with his eyes calls for his attention as she plays with her hair. Daryl looks down at her as he fixes your coffee and hums at her. " Mama " Is all she says back, indicating she wants her mom. He smiles full heartedly down at the two year old who was your spitting image, but has his personality. Of course she wants you, she's his child. " She'll be up once daddy brings 'Er coffee " He explains,but she's not happy with that news. " N-now! " she huffs, yanking on his jeans. He just grins as he pours the sugar in your coffee. " C'mon lets go get mommy " He offers, picking her up and setting her on his hip . He carries the mini you and your coffee up stairs to where your undoubtedly still sleeping.

" Mama? " Little rose asks as Daryl cracks open the door. " Is that my little Rosie ? " You ask with a tired voice, causing rose to squeal and squirm out of her dads arms to get in yours. Daryl chuckles and follows her to hand you your coffee . Rose is already sitting in your lap ready to receive your full attention, but Daryl steals it for a moment to give you a kiss " Morning baby ". You grin at your husband before back down at little rose to give her a morning kiss " Your up early aren't you? ". She nods adorably " U-uncle 'ick ". Daryl and you laugh as she still can't say Rick yet. " That's right uncle rick is taking you and Judy to play with the horses! ".

Rose laughs excitedly and wiggles back down the bed " Go! ". You swing your legs off the bed to get her dressed and take her to Rick, but Daryl stops you " I got 'Er. You stay here ". " Are you sure ? " You ask , ready to help get her ready for the day. He nods and presses another kiss to your lips " I've got it. Be ready for me when I get back ". You nod as he refers the doctor visit he set up for you. He leaves to attend your daughter and you can't help, but smile to yourself. Today would be a good day. Rose would get to spend time with Judith, You and Daryl would get to have alone time , and hopefully at the doctors visit you'd find out for sure if you were about to expand your family again. Sure, you have all the telling signs of being pregnant again, but you wanted the confirmation.

It only seemed like yesterday that you told Daryl about being pregnant with rose. A smile creeps on your face as you can still see the shocked smile on his. This time you were hoping for a boy, but Daryl seemed to just want another girl. Rose is truly the light of his world so another little girl to hold his hand was all he wanted. With the thought in mind, you got up to get dressed and began to tidy up after your little family. You managed to clean up roses room before starting on the kitchen, but that's as far as you got when Daryl came home. " Y/N ? " He calls, slamming the door behind him with his usual fashion. You smirk to yourself " In here ". He's quick to find you with a smirk of his own " You ready?". You nod at him, tossing the rag to the sink " Are you ready soon to be daddy of two?".

He just scoffs and leads you out the door mumbling " Been ready".

It was as you laid down on the table with Siddiq pointing at the monitor, that Daryl thought back to the days he wouldn't accept your feelings for him. The fact that you were here with him, pregnant with his kid for the second time , and with the biggest grin on your face tells him this would’ve happened years ago. But, he was happy with how things turned out. “ Daryl, did you hear me ? “ You ask , looking up at him now. He returns to reality “ What? “. You grin at him “ Saddiq thinks it’s going to be another girl “. He smiles down at you happily. “ Is tha’ right ?” .

And as the doctor nods in confirmation and begins to explain why, Daryl just looks to your face. Sure when you two first met, it was covered in different colors of blood and you looked psychotic, but as he looks at you now he sees his family. The woman who fought like hell to keep him safe and who would now do the same for his kids. In later years to come, you'd do just that as the whisperers would pose a threat and the two of you would have to go to war once more, but it would be different this time. This time when you took Beta on by yourself to protect Daryl and once again you had a different mans blood dripping off you, Daryl was proud. That was his wife and mother of two that kicked a man twice her size down a elevator shaft.

You of course couldn't let the opportunity pass to grin at him again and say " Told you I've killed for less , Dixon ". He only rolls his eyes in return and wipes your face with a rag " Yeah, yeah. I believed you tha' first time. Didn't need you ta' remind me. Could've gotten killed ". You let him clean off your face and once done you place a kiss to his cheek " Don't worry I'm going to be around a long time. Or at-least long enough to say it one more time ".

And you would, for at-least a hundred more times. That is until Daryl actually saves you from a walker and repeated it to you. Thus, starting a new tradition of who gets to say it the most.

#daryl fanfiction #fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl x oc #twd fanfiction #love #killer #badass #zombie #daryl dixon fanfiction

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medeafive · 6 years ago

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bucky and nat meet while competing to buy the last gourmet chocolate bar

(This was so much fun. I’ll probably continue it. Gah. Next week)

AU where Nat is a cop and Bucky is… not sure yet.

Paperwork was the fucking worst. As if it wasn’t bad enough that the crime lab lost her evidence- her evidence- now she was the one who had to file a F426 for missing evidence, a F426D4 because it’s about drugs, a notice to the court and the state attorney (Matt was going to be pissed), a complaint to the police chief, to the head of the crime lab (things had really gone downhill since Bruce left), register the drugs in the state-wide watchlist, a formal apology to the police chief even though it wasn’t her fault at all, and that was just today.

She couldn’t even bitch about it to Clint because he was on family leave. On the Bahamas. Though that didn’t sound all that pleasant, with a toddler. Her apartment was empty, ever since Sharon moved out last week. The fridge was even emptier. So she stopped by a fast-food chain and now, gorged on too many tasteless calories, she craved nothing but her chocolate.

It was quite a ride across town but somehow, even these days you couldn’t get this specific gourmet chocolate delivered. Not that she would have the patience to sit calmly and wait for it. She needed chocolate, and she needed it now. Dark, 76 percent cocoa, with a hint of orange. Sharon claimed it tasted bitter, but Sharon also puts sugar in her coffee (which should be illegal, frankly). So, Natasha would buy the chocolate, go home, lounge on the couch, eat the chocolate and watch some crime show while bitching about it to- well, no one in particular, since Sharon moved out.

The store was awfully crowded on this Friday evening. Oh, she had already forgotten that it would be Valentine’s Day on Sunday. Great. Loneliness day. Well, at least this year she didn’t have to help Sharon get ready and pretend not to be a little bit jealous. But chocolate stores in early February were a nightmare. Good Lord, she just wanted her chocolate, and if it cost her an arm and a leg. More likely due to the crowd than due to the price.

She elbows her way into the right section, really, all these clueless people pondering heart shaped monstrosities, just get out of her way. Her heart sinks when she sees how empty the shelves already are. Please not. She can handle the crowd, the red and pink decorations, the long ride, but if she can’t get her chocolate- she almost sees her life flash before her eyes. Or her weekend at least. She shoves people out of her way, heart pumping. She isn’t not one for praying but right now…

Her worst fear comes to life when she saw her chocolate, her beloved chocolate, the orange packaging she would recognize anywhere, and there’s a hand darting forward, slow motion, to her chocolate, the last bar of her chocolate-

The forms flash before her eyes, the face of the stupid lab guy that she almost punched, the sorry state of her apartment, the horrible weekend and the even worse week ahead, and now her chocolate is being snatched away right before her eyes-

“Hands up where I can see them! Drop it-”

A few people startle and turn to her small but fuming stature, but there’s so much other noise that only few hear her, and when they see her, just standing there tensely, they turn back around and dismiss the whole thing. Except for, of course, the guy whose hand is still infuriatingly close to her chocolate. Which is his only hand, as she realizes upon closer inspection, the left sleeve tied at the upper arm. But most striking is the amused look on his smug face that already tells her he is a total asshole. “Are you arresting me? Why?”

“Yes,” Natasha replies. “No. No, of course not. Just give me my chocolate.”

“Your chocolate?” the guy repeats, looking around demonstratively. His dark hair slides over his shoulder. “As far as I can tell, sweetheart, none of them has your name on it.”

“Don’t sweetheart me.” She’s so close to losing it. The only thing holding her back is that Fury won’t save her if she loses evidence and on the same day draws her gun in a chocolate shop. But God, her fingers itch. “If you can’t tell, I’m not in a good mood. I don’t think you want to fuck with me today.”

“I’m just buying chocolate for Valentine’s Day.” He’s actually kind of good looking, in an infuriating way, of course. His hair looks soft. Of course he has a girlfriend. Not that it matters. She’s such a mess. “Don’t think that’s illegal. So, if you don’t mind… I guess you just came too late, sweetheart.”

“I do mind.” She has to resist the childish urge to stamp her feet. Her brain is begging for chocolate. Just chocolate. Don’t bother with this guy, just get the chocolate. But it’s not that easy, of course. “I had a horrible day. I’m going to have a horrible weekend. God, just- give me the chocolate and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Come on, this chocolate is too bitter anyways,” the infuriating handsome guy tries. “You’ll want to try something less dark. Really, I’m just taking this one because my go-to sold out.”

“Oh please, 27 percent sugar is more than enough,” Natasha deadpans. “And if you don’t like it, then just leave it to me.”

He picks up the chocolate bar, which makes her blood boil, and looks at the ingredients on the back. “Wow. 27, indeed.”

“Don’t think you can lecture me on chocolate,” Natasha threatens. “Especially my chocolate. And now leave it to someone who will really appreciate it.”

He smiles, shrugging with the armless shoulder. “Well, I guess we’ll have to make a deal, sweetheart.”

“I’m not sharing with you!” Natasha protests, mentally calculating how many Law and Order episodes half the chocolate bar would get her through. Not enough. “And for the last time, don’t call me sweetheart.”

“Guess I shouldn’t harass a cop,” he concludes, without seeming sincere in the slightest. “Okay. I’ll let you have it. Sweetheart.”

This thing stinks from a mile away. He’s still holding her chocolate bar. “What’s the catch?”

He grins. She’s starting to get the sense that his confidence is overplayed. “Let me buy you a coffee. Just one. That’s it.”

It really speaks to her desperation that she considers it. She doesn’t want a date. Romance doesn’t play well with her job. And then there’s all the other stuff, childhood trauma, anxiety, trust issues. Really, she’d rather bitch about everything to Clint and Sharon, who she knows and trusts, than even talk to a stranger. “I don’t drink coffee,” she lies.

“Really.” He doesn’t look impressed. Try harder. “Your chocolate is almost entirely beans.”

Think. This whole thing is making her nervous. Just the thought of going on a date makes her palms sweaty. After all the bad boyfriends she’s been through. “I thought you had a girlfriend. I thought you were buying chocolate for your girlfriend.”

He snorts, which looks unfairly attractive on him, his jaw, his mouth. “I said I was buying chocolate for Valentine’s Day, not for my girlfriend. You’re bad at listening, for a cop. I was going to eat it all by myself.”

That’s just what she was going to do. Chocolate. This must be what it’s like for all those drug junkies she deals with. “Okay, fine. Just one coffee. You pay.”

His face lights up as if he’s genuinely surprised. “Oh. Yeah, sure. I know this place… Well, I gotta head to the VA, but give me your number, I’ll text.”

“I said coffee, not phone number,” she reminds him, snatching the chocolate bar from his hand. He’s tall. Tall, dark and handsome. Not like she has a type. “And not on Sunday. My chocolate and I have plans for Sunday.”

“Let’s make it Tuesday,” he concludes. “It’s near the Concorde Music Hall, if you know where that is. When do you get off?”

She swallows the dirty reply she always gives Sharon. “I can make it by four. Probably.”

“Let’s say five,” he decides, sounding slightly sarcastic. Just like Sharon. “I’d text you the address but you won’t let me. It’s the Ipsento Café.”

“Thanks, I do have Google,” she replies dryly, already dying to get out of here and never see him again. He can’t make her come to a café on a Tuesday afternoon. He has nothing on her.

“Enjoy your chocolate,” he remarks, his mouth quirking up on only one side, like he knows what she’s thinking.

“Yeah,” she replies, already turning her back on him. “I will.”

#buckynat week #buckynat #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes #black widow #winter soldier #my writing fanfic

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rolypolywl · 6 years ago

Video

youtube

Welcome to day 8!

So, today I want to talk to you about sleep.

You may or may not know this, but your sleep schedule can have a huge impact on your weight loss journey.

So let’s start with the obvious ways it affects you. As WebMD says, “When you’re short on sleep, it’s easy to lean on a large latte to get moving. You might be tempted to skip exercise (too tired), get takeout for dinner, and then turn in late because you’re uncomfortably full. If this cascade of events happens a few times each year, no problem. Trouble is, more than a third of Americans aren't getting enough sleep on a regular basis.”

And it gets worse: “Skimping on sleep sets your brain up to make bad decisions. It dulls activity in the brain’s frontal lobe, the locus of decision-making and impulse control. So it’s a little like being drunk. You don’t have the mental clarity to make good decisions. Plus, when you’re overtired, your brain's reward centers rev up, looking for something that feels good. So while you might be able to squash comfort food cravings when you’re well-rested, your sleep-deprived brain may have trouble saying no to a second slice of cake.”

And, as Shape explains, that “drunk” effect does more. “research published in Psychoneuroendocrinology found that sleep deprivation makes you select greater portion sizes of all foods, further increasing the likelihood of weight gain.”

So just in terms of sleep deprivation’s immediate results, you tend to eat and drink more, of worse things, you tend to skip exercise or activity, and you’re likely to give in to cravings of any kind. Plus, with that staying up late because you’re full thing, you’re likely to impinge on the next night’s sleep, and start a vicious cycle.

But, when you get down into your body’s systems and chemicals and hormones and things, it actually gets worse for you.

For one, there is an effect called “metabolic grogginess”. Shape references a study that says, “Within just four days of sleep deprivation, your body's ability to properly use insulin (the master storage hormone) becomes completely disrupted. In fact, the University of Chicago researchers found that insulin sensitivity dropped by more than 30 percent.”

And there’s more. Shape continues, “Hunger is controlled by two hormones: leptin and ghrelin. [...] Research published in the Journal of Clinical Endocrinology and Metabolism found that sleeping less than six hours triggers the area of your brain that increases your need for food while also depressing leptin and stimulating ghrelin.”

And, “When you don't sleep enough, your cortisol levels rise. This is the stress hormone that is frequently associated with fat gain. Cortisol also activates reward centers in your brain that make you want food. At the same time, the loss of sleep causes your body to produce more ghrelin. A combination of high ghrelin and cortisol shut down the areas of your brain that leave you feeling satisfied after a meal, meaning you feel hungry all the time-even if you just ate a big meal.”

What’s more, sleep deprivation can affect your metabolism. As HealthLine explains, “Your resting metabolic rate (RMR) is the number of calories your body burns when you're completely at rest. It's affected by age, weight, height, sex and muscle mass. Research indicates that sleep deprivation may lower your RMR.”

And, it can impact your exercise! Shape says, “Scientists from Brazil found that sleep debt decreases protein synthesis (your body's ability to make muscle), causes muscle loss, and can lead to a higher incidence of injuries. Just as important, lack of sleep makes it harder for your body to recover from exercise by slowing down the production of growth hormone-your natural source of anti-aging and fat burning that also facilitates recovery.”

We’ve all heard that you have to rest your muscles when you are breaking them down and building them up, and it turns out that that rest relies on sleep!

HealthLine adds, “A lack of sleep can cause daytime fatigue, making you less likely and less motivated to exercise. In addition, you're more likely to get tired earlier during physical activity.”

So you might not even make it into the gym in the first place, or complete your exercises if you do!

And, there’s a twist to this story. Psychology Today’s Dr Michael Breus pointed out two things to watch out for. Some people sleep instead of eating, doing a thing called narcorexia. He says, “Let me be clear, using sedatives to trigger weight loss—essentially by sleeping through parts of the day when one might otherwise be eating meals—is unhealthful and downright dangerous.”

And, there’s a second twist. Oversleeping is bad too! 12 plus hours of sleep a night has negative side effects too!

He says, “As with too little sleep, there is a greater risk of obesity among people who sleep too much. The risks and problems associated with oversleeping go well beyond weight gain. Too much sleep is linked to a number of health problems, including: Problems with cognition, including memory problems; Depression, anxiety, and other mood problems; Increased inflammation in the body; Body pain; Increased risks for heart disease and stroke; Greater all-cause mortality risks.”

But, getting sleep isn’t just an absence of all those negative side effects. There are positive ones too! The Sleep Doctor explains,

“Contrary to what many people think, sleep is not an inactive state. During sleep our bodies are doing lots of important work—repairing cells and tissues, restoring full, healthy function to our immune system, consolidating memories and rebooting the neural cells and networks of the brain. We’re burning calories the whole time. For a 150-pound person, the estimated calorie burn over a 7-hour night of rest is just over 440 calories. That’s a 40-minute jog on a treadmill!”

Further, the hormone melatonin and cool night temperatures are both linked to “good fats” in our bodies. There are apparently three kinds of fat: brown, beige, and white, and the first two are “good”. The Sleep Doctor says,

“In contrast to white fat, these so called “thinning fats” burn calories, help keep insulin working properly, help regulate blood sugar, and guard against obesity. Studies in mice show that animals with higher amounts of brown fat are leaner, and have better metabolic health. Research involving humans has shown brown fat is linked to lower body mass.”

That just blew my mind! So sleep does a number of good things for our weight loss plans, and our bodies in general, and too much or too little sleep does bad things.

So what can you do to get the right amount of sleep?

Well, most of these experts agree that 6 hours is too few, 12 is too much, and that 7 to 9 hours of sleep a night is the sweet spot. Obviously, some people don’t fall into this category, but most do. Teenagers, historically, have needed more like 10 hours a night, and some people biologically only need 4 or 5, because of their genetics. But most of us should be aiming for that 7-9 sweet spot.

Now, currently, I work nights, so my sleep schedule is a mess. But even when I was working a day job, I struggled with sleeping well. So I have looked into this quite a bit.

The first big thing is this: 1. Medications can cause sleep problems. 2. Sleep issues can be a symptom of other conditions, like depression, or of physical issues, like pain or acid reflux.

So first off, if you’re taking medications that might be causing it, talk to your doctor about potential adjustments. And if you have been having trouble sleeping for over a month, experts tell you to talk to your doctor about it.

Okay, serious disclaimer out of the way. Now, what else can you do about sleeplessness?

The experts tend to agree, so I’m going to compile the lists and advice from The Sleep Doctor, WebMD, HealthLine, and the Sleep Foundation.

1. Check your lights and schedule.

Our sleep cycles are controlled by our circadian rhythms, which operate on a 24 hour system. A burst of bright sunlight for 15 minutes early in the morning actually helps you wake up, setting you up to sleep at the right time. Similarly, you want to eliminate blue (electronic) light for at least an hour, though 2 or 3 would be better, before bed. In general, you want to dim your lights too, to get your body into sleep mode.

Now, if you need to be on your phone or computer after that deadline, then I suggest f.lux. It is made for mac, windows, linux, ios, and android, and you set it up to fit your schedule. It changes the temperature of the light on your device. Its great!

Along the same lines, stick to a schedule. Keep a bedtime and wake time the same every day, even on weekends. This will help your body get into a familiar cycle and make it easier to fall asleep.

Taking melatonin supplements can also help, as it is a sleep-related hormone. If your body isn’t producing melatonin at the right time, or in the right amounts, taking a supplement of 2-5 mg about a half hour to an hour before bed can help. They come in tablet form, and they also come in gummies!

Several other supplements, including lavender, Valerian, and magnesium, can help with relaxation and sleep quality too, but don’t work for everyone.

Now, as I’ve said, I struggle with this step particularly, because I work nights. So I’m already working against the sun and my circadian rhythms. So using lights to trick my brain, by creating “sunlight” in my “morning” and using f.lux to create “sunset” at my “night” is important. That and my sleep mask, to keep out the sun when I’m sleeping, is crucial.

2. Watch your intake.

Experts recommend no caffeine within 8 hours of bed, no alcohol or cigarettes within 3 hours of bed, no heavy meals within 2-3 hours of bed, and no drinks within 1-2 hours of bed.

Apparently caffeine lasts for about 8 hours, so you need to ideally stop it at least 8 hours before bedtime. Nicotine is also a stimulant, and causes similar problems. Alcohol and food both interfere with your sleep hormones like melatonin. And drinking too much (of anything) before bed can result in nighttime trips to the bathroom.

As someone who used to chug mountain dew right before bedtime in college, I can testify that drinking late and caffeine do nothing good for your sleep habits.

3. Exercise, but not too late. Nap, but not too much. Probably.

Regular exercise can help you fall asleep and sleep deeply. That said, if you exercise less than 4 hours before bedtime, MOST people get too much of a stimulant effect from it, the same as caffeine. Some studies have found that exercise later in the day doesn’t hurt, as it seems that some people are not as affected by this as others. This one is a little less clear cut than the others, but it is a good thing to check if you are having trouble sleeping. And some people found that doing something like yoga or tai chi is actually relaxing and helpful as part of a bedtime routine, unlike other forms of more strenuous exercise.

The studies into napping have had similar results to those of exercising. For some people, it isn’t a problem, but if you are having trouble sleeping, this could be a culprit. Experts recommend to eliminate naps, especially in the afternoon, if possible. If not, limit them to 30 minute or shorter “power naps”.

4. Check your bedroom space/bed.

Experts agree that your bedroom should be cool (60-70 degrees cool), free from noise or light that can disturb you. Blackout curtains or an eye mask can help with lights, and humidifiers, dehumidifiers (depending on where you live), fans, ear plugs, and white noise machines can help with temperature and noise. Even those little LED lights on your devices, clocks, and things, can be bright enough to disturb your sleep. And a partner’s snoring or tossing and turning can be the problem. One expert even says you should train your animals to stay off the bed so they don’t disturb you, but I can’t imagine convincing my baby not to curl up with me.

I will say, that my eye mask is amazing! You can get a normal one, but mine also has a gel insert, which you can chill, for when it is hot, and you can heat it, for when you’re stuffy or sore. It is glorious!

You should also have a comfy mattress and pillows. Mattresses only live for 5-10 years, and down pillows are about the same, while synthetic pillows only last about 2 years. Also, if you have allergies, your mattress and pillows might need to be deep cleaned or replaced more frequently, as they can gather those allergens. Further, a mattress that is too hard or soft, and pillows that are too thin or thick, can also cause problems with your sleep, and even after you wake, like stiff neck or back and hip pain.

Finally, your bedroom should be an inviting and relaxing space, lending itself to calming you down. And, as the experts say, your bed should only be used for sleep and sex. Don’t do work or watch TV in bed if possible. And if you’re not sleeping, get out of bed, go elsewhere until you get tired, and then come back to bed. Don’t let your mind and body associate your bed with NOT sleeping.

I am particularly bad at this one, and it is on my list of things to work on.

5. Engage in a bedtime ritual.

For the last hour or so before bed, experts recommend turning off devices, dimming the lights, and doing a calming activity like reading or listening to calming music. Something that can reduce the excitement, stress, or anxiety from your day. Try relaxation techniques like taking a hot shower or bath (or foot bath, even), getting a massage, visualization, or meditating. I love my little foot bath! It can massage, exfoliate, everything!

About an hour or three before bed you should get away from work, stressful decisions, or things that make you anxious. If you have concerns, WebMD recommends jotting them down and then trying to let them go until tomorrow.

I used to be much better at this one, but again, since starting my new night-shift job, this has completely fallen apart. I have a small humidifier that I like, which also can make pretty, soothing, colors. It is small and wonderful!

And there are some great scents for it. Some are specially formulated for sleep, or relaxation, but others are simply helpful essential oils like lavender or eucalyptus. And you can buy sets with a bunch of them!

I also found both of those flavors - Lavender and Good Night - in sprays, which you can spray on your pillow or sheets to give you a burst of that soothing scent.

I also regularly used this meditation app, called Insight Timer.

There are meditations specifically for sleep, and you can pick ones with words or just music. These are also great for your morning wake-up, sunshine burst too. You can even create your own meditation mix. You can track your daily time and get stars for meditating so many days in a row without missing.

So those are my sleep steps:

My goal for this next week is to get back into the habit of my “nighttime” routine before I sleep, because I know this is something I’m not currently doing well with. What’s your goal for the week?

Remember, sleep is more important than you think! Share your sleep struggles and hacks with the hashtag #INeedSleep.

And please join me next time!

#RolyPoly #Exercise #Sleep #INeedSleep #I Need Sleep #Workout #Weightloss #Weight Loss #Fitness #Health #WeightLossJourney #Losing Weight

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webmarket01 · 4 years ago

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9 Tips That Don’t Work for Weight Loss, Say Dietitians | Eat This Not That

New Post has been published on https://weightlosshtiw.com/9-tips-that-dont-work-for-weight-loss-say-dietitians-eat-this-not-that/

9 Tips That Don’t Work for Weight Loss, Say Dietitians | Eat This Not That

As a nutritionist, I’ve heard all the tips for weight loss—the good, the bad, and the totally off-the-wall. From the age-old cabbage soup diet to the more recent strategy of eating cotton balls to fill the stomach, there’s no shortage of trendy ways to shed pounds–many of them are not only strange but also potentially harmful.

Even mainstream folk wisdom about how to lose weight can sometimes steer you in the wrong direction. So what do dietitians (the real weight loss experts) have to say about which tips are solid and which make them roll their eyes? I asked several registered dietitians to get their feedback. Here are nine weight loss tips they say to skip, and for more tips on how to lose weight, be sure to check out our list of 15 Underrated Weight Loss Tips That Actually Work.

“Make eating inconvenient.”

In theory, it kind of makes sense that putting obstacles in the way of your eating—like by using chopsticks instead of a fork or eating with your non-dominant hand—could help you eat less. But it’s not exactly a practical solution to the issue of overeating.

“While you might find yourself eating slower, you can still finish a full meal,” says Carrie Gabriel, MS, RD. “It is time-consuming, and if a person is busy, that could be frustrating.”

Besides frustration, eating in awkward ways might just make you look silly. “Think of the mess a person would make if it was a food such as, say, steak or a burger, which need a hand or utensils to cut it into small pieces,” says Gabriel.

“Put on tight clothes before you eat.”

Another lifestyle change that’ll only lead to discomfort? Changing your wardrobe at mealtimes. You may have heard the tip to don tight clothing before you eat in order to stay mindful of each mouthful. But keeping up a constant awareness of your weight at mealtimes creates negative self-talk—which you definitely don’t need when you’re trying to be healthy.

“There’s nothing wrong with being motivated to realistically fit into your own clothing that you recently wore, but it’s more important to dress the body you have and focus on your plate instead of your closet,” says Bonnie Taub-Dix, RDN, creator of BetterThanDieting.com and author of Read It Before You Eat It—Taking You from Label to Table.

In the midst of a busy day, there’s a time and a place for a probiotic-rich fruit and yogurt smoothie or protein shake instead of a sit-down lunch. But opting out of all meals in favor of weight loss shakes is likely to be a mere quick fix.

“While replacing food with a shake can be effective for some, there are important points to consider,” says dietitian and personal trainer Anthony DiMarino, RD, CPT. “Meal replacement shakes are normally very low in calories and fiber and therefore do not keep people satisfied for long periods of time.”

DiMarino adds that many meal replacement shakes tend to be high in sugar, which can spike blood sugar—a major drawback if you’re living with diabetes or pre-diabetes.

Instead, make yourself one of these 100 Best No-Cook Recipes of All Time.

“Eat only one food.”

Remember the grapefruit diet? Or the potato diet? Or any diet that told you to eat just one food? Monotrophic diets—those that advise sticking to a single food or food group—have been around for ages. The idea goes that you can only eat so much of any food before getting so bored you’ll basically stop eating altogether.

It doesn’t sound like a recipe for a healthy relationship to food, says Gabriel. And it sure doesn’t sound like fun!

“This pushes a person into eating disorder territory, in my opinion,” she says.

Meanwhile, if you go too long without a varied diet, you’re more likely to end up in the hospital than in a bikini competition.

“Eating only one type of food for an extended time period will make you deficient in other nutrients your body needs. Eventually, this could result in life-threatening illnesses,” Gabriel says.

“Don’t eat carbs.”

No one can deny the weight loss-boosting effects of cutting back on carbs on a diet like keto or Atkins. But for many people, opting out of carbohydrates completely can become a too-drastic elimination—one that might not even work in the long term.

“The research suggests you will undoubtedly lose weight by cutting out an entire food group,” says DiMarino. “But at what cost? Depriving yourself from carbohydrates (your main energy source) will ultimately reduce your quality of life over time. Low carb diets can cause you to experience hunger, irritability, fatigue, mood swings, constipation, headaches, and brain fog.”

If you’re considering ditching carbs for weight loss, it’s best to talk to your doctor or dietitian before diving in—as well as to be aware of the risks.

“A low-carb diet can put you at risk for kidney stones, osteoporosis, and even gout,” DiMarino says.

“Chew each bite dozens of times.”

This one’s another throwback: Simply chew your food into a liquid pulp and watch the pounds fly off! The art of “Fletcherism” had its heyday in the early 1900s when food faddist Horace Fletcher (the early 20th-century version of an Instagram influencer) advised his adherents to chew every bite until liquefied to boost weight loss.

To this day, you’ll sometimes see this tip circling back around. And, in truth, it’s not a bad idea to chew thoroughly—but it’s no magic bullet for weight loss.

“While chewing your food multiple times before swallowing is ideal and aids in proper digestion, and eating more slowly can make you conscious of becoming fuller more quickly, this can also be time-consuming,” says Gabriel. “Depending on the food and depending on a person’s relationship with food, it can make them obsess over their food and not actually enjoy it.”

For more healthy eating tips, check out our list of 9 Best Healthy Eating Hacks for Weight Loss.

“Cut out fat.”

If there was one prevailing weight loss mantra of the 1980s and ’90s, it was that eating fat made people fat. Non-fat potato chips, salad dressings, and even (ew) ice creams became staples of “healthy” households. Now, however, research has shown that the right kinds of fats are an important part of a healthy diet—even a diet for weight loss!

“Fat is an essential nutrient that not only helps us absorb fat-soluble vitamins and essential nutrients, but it also helps us feel full and satisfied to help prevent overeating,” says Taub-Dix. “The key when trying to reduce your weight or eat healthfully in general (even if your weight is not an issue for you), is to choose the right fats.”

Monounsaturated and polyunsaturated fats are the kind to enjoy regularly in your diet. Taub-Dix recommends including plenty of nuts, avocado, and oils like avocado oil or olive oil.

“Don’t ever indulge.”

Popular weight loss advice is guilty of plenty of untruths—chief among them the idea that, when trying to reach a healthy weight, you can’t indulge in any of your favorite foods. Make one “mistake” by having a donut or pizza, goes the thinking, and you’ve done irreversible damage.

Dietitians know this is far from true.

“Why should you be denied of your favorite foods just because you’re trying to lose weight?” says Taub-Dix. “If you don’t eat any of those indulgent foods you love, there’s a good chance that you’ll wait until you’re ‘off’ your diet to enjoy them. That’s when those foods usually come back with a vengeance—in unreasonable portion sizes and too often.”

Rather than thinking of your weight loss effort as a short window of restricting the joy out of food, you’ll benefit far more in the long-term by (sometimes) including best-loved menu items.

“A weight loss plan that will be sustained should always include foods you love because, after all, this should be a diet you incorporate into your life, not a diet you change your life for temporarily,” Taub-Dix says.

“Just cut calories.”

When it comes to weight loss, we all know the basic concept of calories in versus calories out. It seems like losing weight should be so simple—yet many dieters find that just eating less somehow doesn’t budge the scale. Turns out, multiple factors are often at work in your body to complicate this equation.

“While the prevailing evidence suggests weight loss can occur as long as there is a calorie deficit, the kinds of calories do matter,” DiMarino says. “Human bodies are complex biological systems that process foods with different micronutrient makeups in completely different ways. Physiologic and hormonal changes occur in response to the foods we eat.”

If you’ve found you’re not making progress by sticking to a calorie target, don’t despair! Fortunately, you can experiment (especially with a dietitian’s guidance) with what types of foods and food combinations you consume. One possibility: work on incorporating higher-fiber, nutrient-dense foods as often as possible.

“Choosing to eat less processed, whole foods improve overall satiety (thus limiting overeating), provides steady energy all day long, and improves body composition over time,” DiMarino says.

This content was originally published here.

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riverdaleroundup · 7 years ago

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Riverdale Roundup: 2x06 “ Death Proof”

Okay so here we are, back at it.

So first of all does Jughead just live in that white tank top now? I just don’t dig it and I honestly need him to put a proper shirt on. I get that he lives in a trailer park or whatever but it’s just trying too hard for me.

So Betty is racing down the street to the five seasons and you know she’s frazzled because her hair is down. She arrives to the St. Clair suite to see Nicky just chillin in a bathrobe with his fucked up face and she’s honestly shook that he isn’t dead yet. I don’t get what her plan was here? Did she think she was going to burst in to find his dead body or like the black hood mopping up blood stains? If she was going to stop the murder wouldn’t the first step to have been to call Sheriff Keller? Thankfully Sheriff Silver Fox is already on the premises ready to take names. Despite the drama of this whole scene I just can’t get past Nick in the bathrobe, he looks like such a little bish. He should not be brooding with that much ankle exposed so casually, it’s just not fitting.

By some mercy of God Betty has learned how to put her phone on silent and I am so very very grateful. I could not take one more round of “ lollipop”. Archie texts betty “ You up?” like the true Fuck Boy he is but honestly it’s like mid morning at this point so like what’s the game arch?

We see Penelope sitting down with the Lodge Loons to discuss the Nicholas issue and she’s such a stone cold bitch and like not in an iconic Alice Cooper way. What a heartless Wench. Also how is her face not fucked up? How is she not completely messed? From the first episode I thought that she was going to be bedridden but like she’s fine. Not even a scratch. Okay we see that her arm is burned later but like come on? Did Mark Sloan himself come back from the grave to reconstruct her horrible burned face back to sheer perfection?

Toni and Jughead are having breakfast and she’s all like “ Yeah we aren’t going to happen. I don’t want to be your rebound” even though the second that Jughead was like “ Betty isn’t in the picture anymore “ she was all up in his business. So like what’s the truth Toni?

Archie and Betty are coming to Pops and Betty claims she won't be answering the blackhoods calls anymore but I mean come on that sounds fake. She also claims that the people “ at the farm” are going to help Polly disappear for a while. What kind of farm is this that they take in Wayward pregnant teens and also double as a projection program? They see Toni and Jughead eating breakfast together and it’s honestly drama.

There’s an emergency meeting at the cooper house where Alice basically tells everyone that their kids are trash and huge whore’s but that Betty is an angel. Kevin learns that Bughead is no more and is honestly shook. It’s so going in his blog.

Josie’s mom is ready to lock her in a tower for taking “ jj” and decides to clear out the south side in retaliation. Archie races to South Side high to be Jugheads knight in shining armour, but Jughead just assumes he’s there to break up with him again and is v pissy about it. The cops burst into the school ready to arrest anyone wearing leather and Archie basically has to drag jughead out of there by his ear. Also Sheriff Keller and his boys are pure fashion in those hats.

Veronica doesn’t want to tell her dad about Nick getting handsy with her because she knows that Daddy will straight up murder him and not even think about it. Kevin is very disloyal to Betty honestly. I get that he’s friends with Veronica as well and that Betty was super bitchy to her but he’s only known V a few months and Betty is supposed to be like his ride or die. Could he not at least hear her out for a minute before slaying her with alliteration?

Black hood calls Betty and she obviously picks up even tho she said she wouldn’t because she’s a fucking liar. Black hood is like “ Infiltrate the dealers. Find the supplier.” sending betty out in search of the Sugar Man. For once Betty realizes that she isn’t in the FBI and is literally a fresh 15 and reminds BH that she’s “ Just a high school reporter” and he’s like “ I don’t give a single fuck. Infiltrate the dealers. Find the supplier.”

Archie is willing to break up with Jughead for Betty but he wouldn’t get back together with him for her so he tell’s Jughead to go talk to her.

Betty rolls up to the new Thorn Hill to find Cheryl lounging in a bathing suit, reading a book and enjoying a little spread. Here’s the thing. What month is it? There was literally just snow everywhere and Sweetwater River was frozen. School hasn’t been in session that long. In theory is should be like November/ December ish if that. But here Cheryl is in a bathing suit, everyone's walking around without jackets, and everyone shows up to the race in like tanktops and shorts. What is good!?! What month is it? On the subject of months how many months pregnant is Polly? She was with the sisters for like 5 months right? And she’s been home for a good while so when are the children of incest going to vacate her womb and enter riverdale where they will probably be accused of murder or something by the time they’re 6 weeks old.

Betty asks Cheryl about the Sugar man and Cheryl is like “ Duh Betty he’s a scary story my crazy ass mom created. Try to keep up.” Cheryl proceeds to rip Betty a new one about trying to ruin literally all of her childhood memories and shoos her away so she can enjoy her trail mix in peace.

Papa Andrews tries to make sure that Archie is taking care of Jughead and Archie is like “ yas i’m trying but it’s fucking hard”, meanwhile Jughead is slithering into the Goolies lair where Tall Boy is chilling saying they should all be BFFs.

Cheryl goes through a box of her and Jason's old stuff and finds a crayon drawing of Sugar man and decides that he’s real. But like??????? How is that proof?

Betty and Keller chit chat about the Sugar Man and Sheriff says that Old Clifford was the Sugar Man so now it could be anyone and they are shit out of luck. Veronica is lurking in the background so she and Betty share some milkshakes and Betty comes clean about the black hood calls. She enlists Veronica to help her find the Sugar Man and now they’re tight again.

Jughead is pacing the trailer ranting about the Goolies and it’s really dark so I did not see Archie sitting there and I honestly thought he was just ranting to Hot Dog and I was like okay how very relatable. I bitch at my dog all the time. He’s a great listener. Archie suggests they go to FP for advice and i’m like yas I miss you come back. He says they should challenge them to a street race and i’m like are you sure we shouldn’t just have another rumble at midnight. That worked very well the first time.

Cheryl tries to talk to her mom about the sugar man but her mom just calls her a crazy bitch and reminds her that she literally burned down their house so maybe she should just shut up.

The gang has to clean up this nasty ass park and Kevin is so disgusted by it that even he wouldn’t troll for stray dick there. Reggie and Josie awkwardly flirt and i’m like ohhh this is a thing now? Veronica ruins their romantic banter by demanding the number of Reggie's dealer. Infiltrate the dealer, find the supplier.

So Veronica rolls up to the south side to get the JJ from one of the Goolies goons. I get that both gangs couldn't just wear straight leather but having the Goonies wear studs and animal print really just makes them look like jokes.

“ What about my change Asshat?” This wouldn’t happen if the dealers were kind enough to take credit.

So we see some of the Jingle Jangle production and they’re literally putting these things together with hot glue and i’m dying.

There’s a truly tragic exchange of Veronica, Betty, Archie, and Jughead all saying each other's names and then saying “ what are you doing here “ in unison and i’m like again with the scooby doo?

Jughead and Archie gotta take their bitches and skanks and get the fuck out, but Jughead having been a serpent for a solid 45 minutes decides he has the authority to bet the family farm and offers up their bar and the trailer park as collateral on this race. A bitch is ballsy.

Nick shows up at Pops and calls Nick “ Sharon” and I literally want to vom. Nick tries to play all innocent. Although the “ Desperate tart from a truck stop town” was a pretty solid insult he’s still a huge douche canoe. At least he paid for her lunch.

Betty is helping Jughead fix Reggie's car and I know she said she used to help Hal fix cars but I have a ton of trouble picturing Hal in his tight sweaters fixing a car. Oh shove it Hal. Jughead calls Betty out on being heartless and dumping him via Archie and she’s like “ Ohh i can explain but like not now” and i’m over here being frustrated as hell like bitch you’ve been sitting in awkward silence just tell him it won’t affect his driving skills. You know what will tho? THE FACT HE’S 15 AND DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO DRIVE.

Cheryl finds the hush money cheque in her mom's room and i’m like yass that’s what people do with cheques for large amounts of money. They hide them in their underwear drawer and hope that the cash just magically appears in their account. So more likely Mrs Blossom is above going to the bank and took a picture of the cheque to deposit it and now Cheryl is just holding a piece of meaningless paper hostage.

Veronica and Archie are lounging in bed together and i’m like where is Fred? Does he allow this sin under his roof? Cheryl kills the mood by telling Veronica that the St.Clairs are still investing in SoDale so she goes to Daddy and Daddy promises that he’s going to fuck shit up.

So we come to the drag race and everyone has put on their fourth of july best. Kevin is pissed that Ru Paul isn’t there but is glad that there is a lot of eye candy. He clearly has a thing for gang members.

Instead of offering Jughead a lock of her hair Betty gives Juggie her declaration of love and some driving advice. Cheryl tells Toni/Cha Cha to stuff it because this is her moment and the race is on. In what world would the Goolies race that old ass car that was never made to go more than 25 miles an hour?

Archie is a little baby and pulls the E break which should basically guarantee that they lose but Archie called Sheriff Keller with a hot tip ahead of time. Everyone is pissed at Archie but I mean they won so……

Penelope threw that cheque that i’m convinced now that she already cashed in the fire and finally spills the tea to Cheryl. Cheryl calls Betty with the intel about who the sugar man is and like a fucking sane normal girl who doesn’t live in fucking Rosewood she calls the police. The Black Hood is pissed and we find out the Sugar Man is Charles Fucking Percy, whose name in this is like Mr Phillip or some bullshit I really don’t care.

Betty is threatening the black hood being like I’ve solved all these mysteries so I can totally catch you and i’m like Betty maybe like back the heck up, I say again you are 15.

So does Fred pop pills on the regular now? Is this going to be a story line?

So the Lodges ran the St. Clair car off the road and they all sit around and smile about it while playing chess. Not at all menacing.

Despite all Betty's best efforts, the Black Hood is still putting a hit on Percy/ Aka Robert Phillips/ Aka The Sugar man. So sad… but….not really.

That’s it.

#riverdale #the cw riverdale #Bughead #varchie #betty cooper #jughead jones #archie andrews #veronica lodge #cheryl blossom

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bitchnuggettt · 7 years ago

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a hypochondriac and a hypoglycemic jackass walk into a bar

M/M: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Link to the Archiveofourown post for those who prefer the format!

He’s got hypoglycemia, Richie learns halfway into second term of Junior year.

Right now Eddie’s got this tiny fruit cup he’s threatening to crush in one hand, and Richie’s about two mouthfuls away from fully figuring out what kind of fruit is in it. Currently he’s caught between mandarin and grapefruit.

He wonders for a second if guessing right would impress Eddie enough to earn himself a couple of quick kisses behind the nurse’s back.

But no, Eddie looks reasonably infuriated, and decidedly not in the mood for sucking face. His brows are all twisted up and his glossy wide eyes are all fixated on the kitten poster on the far end of the wall. His nose is doing that scrunchy thing Richie likes to poke fun at but he figures that it’s not the right time to be doing anything of the sort.

Richie snorts then because he realizes that Eddie’s making the face he makes when he gets a shitty test score and is stuck trying to figure out how to approach the teacher about it.

“This isn’t funny.” Eddie snaps.

“I mean it kind of is.” Richie interjects. By the third spoonful he’s grinning with triumph and beaming, “Grapefruit!”

Eddie almost smiles just then, but instead he bites his lip and scrunches his up nose again like even the idea of entertaining Richie’s antics right now repulses him. Fair enough.

Eddie’s between his legs right now, and Richie’s more tempted than ever to just pull him even closer from where he’s perched up on the school nurse’s offices’ crummy examination table. It’s making his ass cold but Eddie standing almost a head shorter feeding him fruits and making angry eyes at the anatomy posters behind him is making his heart soar like crazy.

He’s finding it hard to distinguish whether it’s the low blood sugar making him dizzy right now, or just the warmth of Eddie’s tiny torso sitting snug between the torn up knees of his jeans.

He’d take a chance at slipping a discreet arm around Eddie’s waist if his hands weren’t shaking so bad. He knows it would just freak Eddie out.

His clunky glasses keep edging further down the bridge of his nose the longer they wait for the nurse to come back with an ice pack and a packet of saltine crackers she promised him.

In highsight, Richie thinks, he wouldn’t exactly classify any of this as being his ‘fault’, per say. He’s always been energetic and a little fatigued, and that had never been an issue for him, up until around a few week ago, when he started getting really fucking thirsty and slow and tired and groggy and generally more of a mess than usual.

Admittedly Richie’s just been finding excuses.

He reassures Eddie that he’s only dizzy because Mike’s boring study group lasted three hours this time around instead of just two - not because he’s starving just a few hours after lunch.

He tells everyone that he’s only leaning on Bev’s shoulder so much because Stan woke him up for church at the ass crack of dawn with Bill at his heels - not because Beverly has a sixth sense about this kind of shit and holds his trembling hands so that they’re out of Eddie’s line of sight like the gorgeous god-send that she is.

And of course his go-to excuse for why he’s so weak in the knees most mornings is that he spent the sweet early hours of dawn chucking increasingly heavy rocks at Eddie’s bed-side window and stage-whispering ‘Rapunzel! Let down your hair!’ until he gave in and let him inside - not because he skipped breakfast.

It’s easy to blame everything on that kind of stuff. It’s the kind of shit that tends to wear a guy out, everyone knows that.

But then he starts getting these god-awful headaches that just won’t fucking let him concentrate, and suddenly he can’t stand up without paling and needing to support himself. He’s never been able to focus much during trigonometry anyway, but lately it seems like every exponent might as well be a different language. At lunch he stops caring whether or not kids are staring and lets himself rest his pounding head in the space between Mike’s neck and broad shoulders, and he lets himself pretend it’s Eddie’s hand carding through his hair when really it’s Beverly’s.

Even Stan starts letting up, he smiles weakly at Richie’s low-par mom jokes and lets him have at the last few sips of his apple juice and backup trail mix because he knows how hungry Richie’s gotten in the past few weeks. Ben keeps assuring him it’s the sign of a growth spurt, but Richie’s sure it isn’t.

Eddie doesn’t much like being near sick people, that much is already established.

Richie figures if he keeps up the rouse that he’s fine and that everything he’s experiencing isn’t wearing him out the way it clearly is, then maybe he and Eddie can keep sucking face at odd hours, and maybe he can keep taking Eddie out to see whatever movie he wants at drive-ins, and maybe he won’t have to lie his ass off whenever Eddie shakes him into alertness after he’s spaced out for more than ten minutes.

Everything’s going fine, he handles the headaches, he handles how fucking tired he feels, he handles the body aches in the mornings and the hunger pangs at night and pretends he’s only letting Eddie run circles around him during gym to up his morale (honestly that kid can run circles around him any day, he’s ten times fitter than his physique let’s on).

He handles all of it with poise and grace and everything in between right up until everything gets fuzzy in the hallway on his way to fourth period, and suddenly it feels like the ground’s slipped right from underneath him and the next thing he knows he’s face-down on the floor and shaking, and by the time he fully comes-to, Bill’s hauling his limp ass to the nurse with a hyperventilating hypochondriac in-toe, and all Richie really knows is that his body’s sore as all hell. He guesses fainting and coming close to having a full-on seizure can do that to a guy.

Skip forward twenty minutes and here he is, with Eddie tight-lipped and crushing up a packet of ice until it’s cold like it should be. He meets Richie’s eyes and asks, voice going soft in worry in spite of how pissed he looks, “Where does it hurt?”

He actually has to think about that for a beat because his legs ache like a truck ran them over, and his shoulder feels like it got locked out of place and rammed back into its socket a couple of times in succession, synopsis: everything fucking hurts, but he settles on having Eddie hold the packet against his neck because that hurts like a motherfucker too, plus Eds has to tip-toe to reach him and if that isn’t the most endearing thing he doesn’t know what is.

Bill’s giving Richie’s contact information at the front desk and trying to reach his mom for him.

In light of everything that’s happened, a huge part of Richie is just relieved that he doesn’t have to pretend he’s okay anymore.

Eddie calls him an idiot right up until before his mom picks him up, and after school every one pays Richie a visit to do the same. It’s only until Ben takes out a few books he’s been excited about and Mike pours over them when things stop being about how much of an idiot Richie is.

Beverly and Stan start talking about the movie posters popping up on the streets, and Eddie tucks himself into the careful space between the rocky bed frame and the solidity of Richie’s sore back and starts gently kneading at his shoulders until Richie’s babbling dies down in his throat and he relaxes himself. He leans back until Eddie’s mouth is flush against the shell of his ear, where he breaks their shared silence and whispers, “You ever hide shit like this from me again, you’re a dead man, Tozier, you hear?”

And then softer, he adds, “You don’t always have to pretend that you’re okay when you’re not, Richie. We love you, I love you, and hypoglycemia is a serious condition. Do you know how many people die with that condition just because they decided to skip breakfast? Do you know how much of an idiot you have to be to die via low blood sugar? I’ve got a huge stock of granola at my place, you ass, the next time I catch you hiding shit, I’m shoving an entire box of cereal down your throat,”, then, after a second, “Jesus, I’m threatening you with snacks.”

And Richie has no choice but to smile at that.

#the losers club #richie tozier #reddie #eddie kasbrak #it movie

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aishicc · 7 years ago

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QuakeRider Part 4

KK so here we go with why I love writing about these two so damn much. This might go into a part 5, as in most likely will, so be ready for a lot of words. Ready? Got your drinks and snacks? Wonderful, now for a bit of a history lesson. For those who still do not know I do not watch TV on TV so no AOS for me. Seeing stuff on the Defenders I came across vids on a new Ghost Rider which looked cool. Learning a bit about comic Robbie it did not take long to see stuff for AOS Robbie and well yep I am a Gabe fangirl now. The guy is awesome and can act too so not sorry at all, nope. After watching every clip I could fine I noticed Robbie and Daisy had this great Prideshipping like thing going. For those who have no idea what that means two stubborn willful people hooking up, so much snark and sass I love it so. What is most interesting is the MVs I burned into my brain before season 4 hit Netflix were all 90% in context, AUs aside. And what scenes were not in context fit the mood of them both by the end of season 4 so really not completely out of context. I am no stranger to fan pairings where content is used a bit out of context, or a lot depending on how crack it is, but QuakeRider fans really don't have to do that. You just watch a clip and go yep they are friends, kindred, future lovers unless the writers hate us, all that good stuff.

They did not start out well but there was still something there. No one in their right mind can say these two met well, seriously nope. Yes why they were at odds and why Daisy was so interested in him make perfect sense. By this point Daisy is all about protecting Inhumans and she thinks Robbie is one, you see him all Rider through fire it is not an unreasonable thing to think. Robbie is dealing with the Rider in his head, as well as life in general in not the best of neighborhoods. So someone poking around, he called her detective, no mater how attractive is a problem. Add Daisy making the mistake of bring up Gabe, or taunting if you want to look at it that way, it is no surprise Robbie attacked her. Yes he fractured her arm but he did use his fist not his wrench to knock her out, a true asshole would have brained her with that thing. I have written to OTPs where one has gotten much closer to trying to kill the other then this, spells are not your fault. A rough start is more interesting to me then a meet cute easy romance. Even Fitz-Simmons had banter back in season 1 and they are the easiest to find fluffy moments couple on the show.

Every pairing on the show has a few dark moments, some waaaaay more then others granted. There is a difference between not meeting well and toxic, QuakeRider can be written as toxic if you hate it, or want to explore their darkest sides, but the relationship itself is not a toxic one. Some people disagree with me on this, and that is fine, but they move beyond throwing down rather quickly and that pretty much ends the abuse and fighting.

They are both violently protective of those they love, Daisy you have seen protecting her friends even from herself. Robbie sold his soul in part to come back for his brother so of course he has no problem kidnaping and even killing to do the same. It does not take long for Robbie to see Daisy is not a threat to his brother, Hell he takes her home and leaves her alone with Gabe. Sure he feels he owes her for hurting her arm, and she protected Gabe, but he would not have left her alone with just a warning if he thought she was a threat to Gabe. Daisy also protects Robbie from Mack, she had no real reason to other then he saved Fitz. They are both similarly tied to a small group they would do anything for while keeping the world at arms length. Daisy has lost her parents as a few friends by now so is makes sense she tried to bond a bit with Gabe. She may have wanted to know more about Robbie but she also doesn't want to see them pulled apart. Her family is all adopted but Robbie still has some blood left, less by the end of 4 but that is another mater. The fact Daisy and Gabe actually bond over losing Robbie is important and something I already covered so I won't go on and on about it again. Daisy has chemistry with both brothers and it is interesting to play with Gabe as a friend or foe to Daisy as she grows closer to Robbie.

Even after the famous keeping my distance scene made things strained between them Robbie still looked to Daisy for cues and support. Hurt or not he knew she was the only one there who may have his back, or would see where he was coming from and stick up for him even a little. The guy has some trust issues, street smart people always do, yet he still trusted her. Daisy tried to ignore him but still backed him. Her fears of getting close again are trumped by having to figure out who and what he is and how he ties into what is going on. He is just too temping of a mystery to flat out ignore. This pull towards each other is a lot of fun to play with, and works great in AU settings. Sometimes you are just drawn to someone and you are never entirely sure why, Fate can be way more mysterious then God. I don't really do AUs, yet, but this aspect of their relationship is still fun to play with.

Battle couples are a weakness of mine, like a biggy, and QuakeRider falls hard into this one. We see other pairings on this show pair up to fight side by side as equals do, or should do. Robbie never treats Daisy like she is a weak girl even when she is hurt. Yes he shows concern for her injuries but that is because he is not a heartless monster, and Daisy has had a few nasty injuries he was aware of or had caused. He protects whoever he is teamed up with, just a natural instinct on his part. Yes he calls Daisy Chica, more in fan fics, but Tripp called her girl and neither were being sexist pigs when they did it. They both have a more casual speech pattern so it is like a Brit calling a female Love/Luv or a southern female calling a male sugar, it is just a common thing not meant to be insulting. Some can claim it is sexist but Robbie is not a one anymore then Lincoln, Ward, Mack, Fitz, Tripp, Coulson, Davis, or any of the other men are. Making a joke now and then doesn't count, nor dose Robbie being an ass when they first met because that had nothing to do with Daisy's gender. You want to hate on Robbie don't go making things up just to try and make him look bad. He works well with Daisy and she can boss him around to an extent, just has to call his name and he comes running.

They share many of the same demons. Daisy's greatest fear is losing her friends because they tried to save her, something that has happened before with both Tripp and Lincoln so it is a very real thing. Robbie is losing Gabe, they are all they have with tio in prison, now dead, and that would kill his last reason to fight the Rider. Messed up childhoods, trying to take all the pain on themselves to spare others, trust issues. This is another fave of mine in writing, they cannot save themselves from their demons but they can help save each other. They really are a lot a like but not so alike they might as well be a gender swap of the other. It makes sense they have some similar issues and dealt with them in a similar way. Robbie is very much more alone then Daisy since he has his little brother, tio, and his boss seemed to really like him. Now he has pretty much just Gabe outside of Daisy, and the others who are slowly becoming his friends. I love team bonding!

Their actors are friends and that chemistry shines through. These two are always adorable together sharing chairs, mikes, all that kind of good stuff. The entire cast seems to be one big happy family most of the time and Gabe fits right in, so glad for that. I know they are both married and all that but they are friends so it makes QuakeRider as a Brotp totally legit, and doesn't hurt the otp version either. Mulder and Scully were great to watch because their actors had awesome chemistry and AOS is no different. These two together have inspired a few AUs I am sure and likely will in the future.

Daddy Coulson ships it, and Mommy May doesn't hate it either. I love how confused Robbie is during this little exchange, excited Coulson is not something he is used to yet. I so fan girl squeed it was awesome, every pairing needs a Daddy Coulson approved fan boy moment who's with me?

We get to see their relationship change over time. We go from Daisy watching Robbie drive off through flames to watching him walk through a ring of fire into Hell. They change and it makes sense each time their dynamic shifts. Now we miss some details because of time restraints, season 4 was a busy season, but it doesn't feel rushed to me. Sure I would like to see them bond more, Robbie + everyone bonding yes please, but I have not read the same rushed and forced complaints StaticQuake has. I would take a little rushed over forced anytime.

#aos headcanons #quakerider

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queenbrandy · 7 years ago

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PCOS

This is, one of many, ugly side of PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) that people tend to overlook. This is called hirsutism, which is excess hair growth caused by an increased level of male hormones (androgens). One common cause of hirsutism is PCOS.

For those that don't know, PCOS is a "health condition that affects about 10 million women in the world. The exact cause is unknown, but it is considered a hormonal problem. Genetics and environmental factors are believed to be involved in the development of PCOS. It is a leading cause of female infertility and is responsible for a number of symptoms that can affect the body physically and emotionally."

Some more information: "Despite the name, many women do not have cysts on their ovaries. In 2013, an independent panel of experts recommended to the National Institutes of Health that the name be changed because the name is confusing and hinders patient care and research efforts. Hormones involved in PCOS include:

Androgens. All females make androgens (also referred to as “male hormones”), but there are often higher levels of androgens in women with PCOS. The excess androgens are produced mostly by the ovaries, but the adrenal glands can also be involved. Excess androgens are responsible for many PCOS symptoms including acne, unwanted hair, thinning hair, and irregular periods.

Insulin. This hormone allows the body to absorb glucose (blood sugar) into the cells for energy. In PCOS, the body isn’t as responsive to insulin as it should be. This can lead to elevated blood glucose levels and cause the body to make more insulin. Having too much insulin can cause the body to make more androgens.

Progesterone. In PCOS, a lack of progesterone contributes to irregular periods."

For me I have hirsutism and that was the first sign that lead me to PCOS.

I was always more hairy than most girls and some boys, but I didn't think much of it. When I got my first period the Sunday before 5th grade, I was told irregular periods would "work themselves out" after my body got use to having a period. I got horrible acne but I was going through puberty, so why worry? My head hair starting to shed like a dog, but I have long, thick, curly hair so don't worry.

My periods were horrible, not only the cramps and mood swings, but I never knew when they would come. Sometimes I would seem to bleed for a month and then nothing for what seemed like three months. But they would work themselves out, right? Wrong. They never did during all of my years in grade school.

It wasn't until I went to college that I was tired of all these symptoms that I went to see the school nurse. Originally I went to see her for the hirsutism because I was tired of having to shave my face daily. After some tests we found out I had PCOS and I was send to an endocrinologist. Which I also found out I have thyroid issues, but that's for another time. I was put on birth control and I finally had normal periods. Normal, every month for 4 to 7 days periods. I could now know when they would come and could plan accordingly. I finally had some control over this mess.

Those horrible period cramps? Most the time were cysts on my ovaries, and the worst ones were when the cysts would rupture. There isn't a cure for a rupture ovarian cyst but pain meds and trying to move as little as possible. I now can feel them much better and know when I have one and when it is a typical period cramp. I have many different ultrasound images showing them.

Sadly, the hirsutism still persisted. But I was so happy to have some answers that I didn't care. Even today, as a college grad and now a Master's student, I still have the shave my face daily. Chin, jaw line, cheeks, upper lip, and unibrow.

The picture above? Three days without shaving, because I had no need to leave the house. By tonight I will feel tiny stubble start to form and I will have to repeat the process again in the morning.

I write this for a few reasons.

To my PCOS sisters, you are not alone. We are all fighting this together. We are all beautiful and don't be ashamed of your body. Yes I choose to shave my face, if you do or don't I support you all the way. I choose to be on medication and if you do or don't, I support you. If you are still fighting doctors to believe in your symptoms, I support you and I understand the struggle.

To those that believe birth control shouldn't be free or covered under insurance, know that birth control makes me feel normal. It lets me have some control over my body. It helps keep the ovarian cysts smaller and helps control the, now adult, acne. It's my body and I should be allowed to put whatever I want into, medication or otherwise and be safe in doing so.

And finally. To those that don't believe women's health care has major issues. I went to an OB/GYN years ago because I thought I felt a big cyst and was concerned. Had an ultrasound and nothing was there, thank goodness. The male(IMPORTANT) doctor didn't believe I was in 9/10 pain because of previous cysts. He thought I was lying and proceeded to say since he saw no cyst he wanted to schedule me for an operation to remove my pancreas (which is fine!). Didn't go back to him. Found a female doctor to see and, miraculously, she believed my pain and we worked with my endocrinologist to change the dosage of my birth control to better help me.

That is one story of many that I have where (mainly male) doctors didn't believe me when I was telling them something ABOUT MY BODY. That is is issue. I'm stubborn enough to fight back but other women aren't or they sadly don't know better.

PCOS is one of many ugly diseases that women face, where there isn't much awareness and that needs to change.

Women Matter

#pcosawareness #pcosfighter #pcos #womenmatter #awareness #womens rights #womens health #birth control #healthcare #womenshealth #womensrights

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thanksillpass · 8 years ago

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Holehearted [OtaYuri]

read on ao3 here

commission info here

Otabek Altin woke up with a hole in his chest one morning. It just appeared suddenly, slightly to the left, where it definitely hadn’t been before. Just a hole the size of a fist, or maybe a large apple. Its unobtrusive presence didn’t hurt or bother him in the slightest, not physically anyway. It wasn’t ripped out of his chest; shaped like a perfect circle and smooth around the edges, it looked and felt quite cartoonish, really, almost too abstract to believe it was actually there, if Otabek weren’t able to put a fist and an apple through it.

He got used to it rather quickly, and he carried on with his otherwise unremarkable life as always. He woke up every morning and fed his boring cat, went to his average university, then to his dull part-time job in a coffee shop, fed his cat again, put ordinary effort into his homework, and went to sleep in his bed that was too standard to be properly uncomfortable and give him any reason to be unsatisfied with it. Everything in Otabek’s life was plain, and an inexplicable hole in his chest wasn’t any different.

There wasn’t anyone he could talk to about it anyway, even if talking was something he enjoyed doing.

His boss had to have a soft spot for him, because Otabek’s customer service left a lot to be desired, but he still had a job to go to every afternoon, and he was grateful for it. There weren’t many things in life that Otabek actively enjoyed, but riding a motorcycle was one of them, and a bike wasn’t a cheap thing to maintain. He didn’t begrudge it - the irreplaceable feeling of sweet freedom and almost overwhelming limitlessness riding gave him was compensation enough. During winter, when the bike was safely stowed away in the shed, Otabek skated. It was the closest thing to flying a person could experience, in his opinion, with nothing but planes of cold, unforgiving ice surrounding him, sliding through air that filled his lungs with invigorating ice shards, similar to the chilly breeze against his face when he balanced on the edge of the speed limit on the highway at night.

“You look more moody than usual,” chirped Chris, pulling Otabek away from his thoughts. “Something wrong?”

“There is a hole in my chest,” replied Otabek truthfully, not expecting to be believed.

Chris frowned. “Did you not sleep again, Otabek? I don’t want you to be embarrassed later for actually talking about your feelings to me.”

Otabek let out a soft sigh and turned away from his coworker without another word. He regretted saying anything already, remembering that Chris was the kind of person who would go around the coffee shop and tell everyone who cared to listen (or didn’t) that Otabek had feelings that needed to be addressed immediately because he had just admitted there was something missing in his life. Otabek didn’t come up with this “theory” on his own - he literally heard Chris say that to Phichit just then - but it gave him a pause. Was there something missing in his life? Was there a hole in his chest because there was an empty, shrivelled shell barely pumping blood to his brain where his heart was supposed to be? If so, what was he supposed to fill it with, if skating and riding a bike hadn’t already?

“I’m sure Chris is exaggerating a bit, as usual, but if you need a friend to talk to, I’m here.”

Otabek lifted his eyes to stare at Phichit, who looked undeterred by Otabek’s impassive expression, smiling gently like he always did. Phichit was a warm, kind guy, and Otabek didn’t like him very much. He didn’t really like anyone, to be honest, and it never affected him in any way - he enjoyed being alone, didn’t feel the need for company other than an unresponsive cat who didn’t require anything from Otabek except for food and a lap to sit on, very occasionally. People puzzled him, mostly, and seemed to be too much effort than they were worth in general. Still, that did seem to be only thing that was missing in Otabek’s life, even if he wasn’t aware it was a bad thing that warranted the universe to carve a hole in his chest to make him realise it.

“Maybe I do need a friend,” he admitted blandly, and promptly turned away from Phichit, just in time to see his bright happy smile slip when he realised Otabek didn’t mean him in particular.

Like with many things, Otabek didn’t bother following through with actually finding a friend. Testing a flaky theory was not incentive enough to turn his life upside down and let a random person in, and for what? To fix an issue that didn’t even cause him any discomfort? Otabek always believed that friendship was something that should happen naturally, so he decided to wait his current situation out - if someone came along to fill the literal hole in his chest, great, but Otabek wasn’t going to go out of his way to make it happen.

“You do need to create an opportunity, though.”

Otabek admittedly wondered how a customer was aware of his predicament and his thought process, but didn’t question it out loud, wanting to limit their interaction as much as possible. Yuuri Katsuki reminded Otabek of a shaking leaf hanging on the branch by sheer power of determination and fear of falling. He was an odd and complicated person, perhaps not much more than any other, but still too much for Otabek’s taste. He seemed shy and insecure in one moment, and resolved and larger-than-life in the next. He was five years older than Otabek, but seemed like a fragile child in comparison, naive and easily excitable, prone to sudden mood changes; Otabek sometimes had to wonder which one of them was the weird one. He was willing to entertain the thought that he was the oddball, considering Yuuri was a highly functioning member of society, with a husband and a dog, and a house he wasn’t renting from shifty Russians.

“Like, I was crushing on Victor for forever, but I was always too afraid to do anything about it, and if he hadn’t approached me, I’d die alone pining after him instead of getting married to him.”

Otabek quickly decided against that idea. “Please stop talking to me.”

“My point is—”

“I get your point. Here’s your order. Good day.”

Dejected, Yuuri moved away from the counter and sat at one of the tables, presumably to wait for Victor to come pick him up. It wasn’t that Otabek paid attention to the daily routine of the married couple, it was just that Yuuri seemed like someone who’d be afraid to go anywhere alone, lest a natural disaster or, say, a squirrel happened to end his life, ridding him of a chance to spend his last moments with the person he loved. Otabek felt a little bit sick, and he was glad his facial expression wasn’t reflecting that when the man in question finally entered the cafe. Surprisingly, there was a sample sized blond kid with peculiar fashion sense in his tow that instantly made Otabek think of his grumpy cat. The kid was visibly unwilling to hang around the couple any longer than necessary, and he was eyeing Otabek with petulant suspicion. Otabek could definitely sympathise - if there was anything more difficult than being around people, it was being around people in love.

“What can I get you, kid?” he droned when the boy approached the counter.

The kid tensed, his expression momentarily vulnerable before clouding again. “Strong black coffee, no sugar.”

Otabek shrugged, pleased with the simplicity of the order. “And what name should I put on the cup?”

“I’m the only customer here,” replied the boy as he looked around the place with a bored expression. “I think we will manage without me disclosing my personal information to a complete stranger, thanks.”

Otabek couldn’t help but smile to himself at the kid’s quite obviously forced nonchalance, but he was at least able to hold back until he turned away to prepare the coffee. They didn’t speak to each other again, and Victor soon called his young friend over (Yurio, so Yuri, like his husband, and why was Otabek even paying attention?). They stayed a bit longer, enough for Otabek to notice Yurio grimace in disgust as he sipped his black coffee a few times before leaving a basically full cup on the table and trailing behind Victor and Yuuri. Otabek would have been offended if he cared about the quality of his coffee-making skills. Or doubted it.

Yurio quickly became a regular customer, sometimes coming by with Victor, sometimes alone, and always ordered the same thing, always making the same disgusted face as he tasted the coffee, and always leaving without finishing his drink. Otabek had to admit it was rather amusing, almost as much as his blatant dislike for Yuuri. He always shouted at him, getting all up in his face, leaving him a shaking and teary-eyed mess, naturally gravitating towards Victor’s comforting open arms, which only seemed to enrage Yurio more. The kid couldn’t have been older than eighteen, and Otabek had to be in awe of his potential for emotional destruction at such a young age. He occasionally wondered where all that pent-up rage was coming from, but never for long - he was always good at accepting reality as it was and leaving it be.

Still, he felt himself drawn to that new and unexpected addition to his daily life, a little stormy cloud in a flashy t-shirt coming and going before Otabek could decide if he minded that it rained on him. People-watching wasn’t something he’s ever tried before, so he wasn’t sure if Yurio was a particularly entertaining subject or if it was always this engaging. Otabek was almost positive it was the former, so he kept watching, and he never got bored, learning something new every day and greedily storing all the information. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but Yurio had hard eyes of a soldier, which contrasted with his almost angelic look and the natural grace of his movements. If he had to guess, Otabek would say he was a dancer, and he found himself wishing there was a way to confirm his suspicions without seeming like he cared.

But he did care, and it was unsettling.

“You should just talk to him,” offered Phichit, as usual unprompted, just so Otabek remembered that he cared. Otabek seriously disliked him. “I think you’d make good friends. You’ve got so much in common!”

Phichit was clearly getting excited, so Otabek decided to humour him, and raised his eyebrows in silent question, almost curious as to how Phichit was planning to talk his way out of that particular overstatement. He patiently watched Phichit close and open his mouth, raising his finger when he thought he did come up with something sensible to say, and flagging when he finally realised how absurd that would sound. Just before Otabek decided the conversation was pointless, Phichit tried again.

“You both… dislike… other people?”

Otabek let out a genuine chuckle. “Great foundation for friendship.”

“It’s a start! Friends who slay together, stay together! Or… something… You haven’t even had a proper conversation with him! Who knows what you will find out about him if you just talk to him. Come on, Otabek!”

“Why is it so important to you?”

Phichit looked embarrassed, and it was suddenly clear to Otabek that Yuuri must have put him up to this so that Yurio would get off his back, distracted by a new relationship that would hopefully consume a large portion of his free time - Otabek had never liked Phichit more. Of course, there were probably more reasons for Phichit to push, cheesy and nauseating reasons like wanting Otabek to be happy, but no one was perfect. Feeling generous and in a rather good mood, he ruffled Phichit’s hair before proceeding to ignore him for the rest of his shift. There was no avoiding noticing Phichit and Chris basically crying in each other’s arms, but Otabek refused to let that ruin his day. When Yurio came in, alone this time, there was a moment when Otabek felt confident he would talk to him and offer something more than an impassive expression and a cup of coffee Yurio obviously hated, until he realised he had no idea what to say.

“Why do you always order that? You always make weird faces as you sip it, and you never finish your drink. Are you trying to look mature because you’re so small?”

For the first time in his life, Otabek learned what mortification felt like. It took him that entire time to come up with possibly the most insulting thing he could have come up with, and he was afraid to meet Yurio’s eye. All he could see was Yurio’s hand shaking violently as it reached for the coffee, and worried it would end up splashed on his face, disfiguring him for the rest of his life, Otabek finally lifted his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. Yurio’s mouth was twisted in a furious snarl, his blue eyes aflame, an angry blush covering his cheeks, and underneath all of that was something like betrayal and embarrassment. The hole in Otabek’s chest throbbed. He nearly had forgotten it was there, and now it throbbed almost painfully, making Otabek dizzy. Before Yurio could react in any way to the affront, Otabek blurted out the first thing that came to his mind:

“Do you want to be my friend?”

Yurio visibly started, his features gradually smoothing into mild confusion, only slightly coloured with distrust. “Why?”

Otabek thought for a while about his answer. He considered telling him about a hole in his chest, but that would only make it sound like an experiment. He could tell the truth and admit he’d never really had any friends, but that would make him sound pathetic and unappealing as a future friend prospect. He could say he has been watching Yurio and took interest in him, that he was curious and wanted to get to know more about him, but even Otabek realised how creepy that was. He took a deep breath to keep panic and anxiety at bay, and finally shrugged.

“Why not?”

It had been a bit awkward at first. Well, it was very awkward at first, but it got considerably less awkward with time. They weren’t that compatible - where Otabek barely let anything affect him, Yurio probably had the shortest fuse of everyone Otabek had every come across. Where Otabek scared people away just by looking at them, Yurio had to beat them off with a stick, sometimes literally. It was weird to talk about themselves only to find out that the other was a complete opposite. They didn’t share any interest beyond skating, but to Otabek it was mostly a replacement for the bike, and for Yurio it was a part of his training regime for the ballet, so they quickly stopped talking about it too.The only thing they seemed to have in common was, actually, the general dislike for other people.

But they made it work. They’ve put effort into it. They had the kind of friendship that just didn’t make any sense, and you stayed friends just to spite other people. Unfortunately for both of them, the people in their lives were cartoon characters made of rainbows and sunshine, and they were beyond themselves with happiness for them. Otabek and Yurio tried their best not to let that taint their relationship. Instead, they focused on the benefits of finally having someone to complain about those people to, and simply standing by each other, on principle, occasionally rescuing a certain someone from fans in a dramatic fashion involving motorbikes, or verbally abusing a horrible customer when a different someone couldn’t be bothered to defend himself.

It took a lot of effort, but they made it work.

Otabek had to admit that he was pretty… content. Considering that neither of them had anything to compare it to, and that both of their expectations were somewhat different to most people, Otabek would say they’ve became pretty great friends. There was only one thing that slightly bothered him about Yurio. He wasn’t a jealous or a possessive person - for example, he didn’t mind that when Yurio visited his entire world was instantly shrunk down to Otabek’s cat and Otabek himself might as well not exist - but he definitely thought that Yurio was whining about Victor’s relationship with Yuuri too much.

“Are you in love with Victor?” he asked one day, and was relieved when Yurio looked mortally offended, but only for a brief moment. “Do you have a crush on Yuuri then?”

“What the hell?!” snarled Yurio, his face instantly going red. “It’s one thing to accuse me of having feelings for my cousin, really, honest mistake, but for you to even think I would want anything to do with that little piggy-”

“I think you have a crush on Yuuri,” interrupted Otabek, unable to hold back a smirk. “I think you like him, that’s why you’re so mean to him.”

Yurio spluttered. “You’re mean to him too! Does that mean you want to bone him too?!”

Otabek grinned, reminding Yurio that no one said anything about sex, and Yurio pointed out that it was what everybody thought, and that was the end of it. Otabek didn’t learn the answer to his question, but if Yurio wasn’t comfortable with sharing anything on that particular subject, Otabek was going to wait patiently until he was. It wasn’t as if it had any real effect on their relationship, or on Otabek himself. As much as he enjoyed being friends with Yurio, it didn’t change that much in his life - it didn’t even get rid of the gaping hole in his chest. His existence was still remarkably unremarkable, filled with basically the same ordinary routines, and still missing something that could only be his very heart. If Otabek was willing to ignore something of that magnitude, what did he care that his best (and only) friend was involved in a hopeless love triangle?

Only he did care, a little bit.

Ever since Otabek mentioned it, Yurio would grow distant, sometimes, watching Otabek warily, or snapping at him with seemingly no reason. Even if he was in a good mood, smiling and excitable, he would suddenly dim in the least expected moment, putting up his walls back again. Otabek suspected Yurio wanted to maybe talk about it, but neither of them was any good at discussing feelings, or even expressing them properly. As for Otabek, he wasn’t very good at even having them - he wasn’t sure he could relate to Yukio’s heart troubles. He’s never been in love, never really thought he could love. He’s barely made one friend at twenty-two, who was going through something Otabek had no control over, and he wasn’t sure what he could do to keep him.

“Am I a good friend?”

Yurio looked up at him, his hand freezing still in the cat’s fur, a scowl forming on his lips. Otabek regretted asking, but he couldn’t back out again. He wanted Yurio to know he cared, because he did, he valued him more than anyone else in his life, even if he didn’t fill the hole in him, he was still more important than all other people Otabek has ever known put together. He wished he could say it out loud. He wished he was enough for Yurio, just like Yurio was enough for him. He wished there was something, anything, he could do to make Yurio say yes.

“Yes,” said Yurio, simply and honestly, surprised it was even questioned. “Why do you ask? You need references? Are you suddenly planing to become a social butterfly or something? Come on, I want to go shopping for cat collars.”

Otabek exhaled, and smiled.

All things considered, their relationship progressed normally after that. They started talking more honestly, perhaps, learned to communicate with each other better. Put even more effort. They didn’t see each other every day, as the novelty of the friendship and anxiety to maintain it wore off. Some days were better and some worse. Sometimes Yurio shut him out and locked himself in the dancing studio, and sometimes Otabek chose the bike over Yurio. Sometimes they went skating together. Sometimes, they spent a whole day in bed - a lazy, tangled mess of boys and cat. It was normal, for them at least, and Otabek liked it. He continued to live his ordinary life with his cat, his friend, coworkers, and a hole in his chest.

People teased them sometimes, and he wasn’t exactly sure why. Maybe they seemed too co-dependent, or too cold towards each other; Otabek didn’t care to know what others chose to focus on when it came to judging them. It didn’t matter anyway. How could it, when he had Yurio’s head in his lap, scrolling through one social media app or the other, scoffing and pushing the phone in Otabek’s face ever so often, half-heartedly swatting his hand away when Otabek tried playing with his hair. The cat came and went, the only indication of the time passing by. Otabek would be content staying like that forever.

“I don’t have a crush on Yuuri, you know,” said Yurio suddenly. “I was jealous. Victor has always been kind of my hero, and then the pig showed up and took him away. I was just acting like a child. I was jealous and lonely. I’m not anymore.”

He didn’t push Otabek’s hand away this time when it started gently stroking the soft blond strands of hair. Otabek didn’t think he needed to say anything, so they stayed like that until Yurio had to go back home. Otabek saw him to the door, and somehow sensed it wasn’t going to be the usual good-bye they shared. It was in the tense line of Yurio’s shoulders, in his skittish glances, as he hesitated between avoiding and meeting Otabek’s confused gaze. They stood in the doorstep, each on the other side, waiting. Finally, Yurio seemed to resolve himself, and took a step closer, stood on his toes, and kissed Otabek on the mouth. Blushing furiously, he turned away to flee, leaving Otabek with a cat rubbing itself on his calves, and a tingle on his lips.

Was he expecting that, even subconsciously? He wasn’t sure, but he felt calm, normal. He went back into the apartment, then back to bed, and tried asking himself countless questions, tried forcing himself to analyse the development and examine his feelings. But all he could feel was calm, and that peculiar brand of satisfaction you experienced when something long overdue finally happened even though you weren’t really waiting for it. He smiled to himself when he felt his phone vibrate, and his grin only widened as he read the text from Yurio, “Hope that wasn’t weird.” It was. It was the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to Otabek Altin, hands down, and he’s never felt happier. “It wasn’t,” he replied.

When he woke up the next morning, the hole in his chest was gone.

#otayuri #otabek altin #yuri plisetsky #otabek x yurio #yuri on ice #yoi fic

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