#blame this on my severe insomnia

[theaceofarrows]

Remember way back when in season 4 where Lloyd was referred to as the "master of power"? I miss that

[hamartia-grander]

Me: hey I'm struggling with this thing

My mother: *blames the meds I'm on that help me with another thing*

[earthytzipi]

there's this thing that I do since turning 19 where I'm like. hmm. perhaps I am experiencing x thing (it has been autism, alexithymia, alcoholism (triple a lol), low empathy, and insomnia). but probably not, or it's probably mild. just in case, let's take some of those internet diagnostic quizzes to help try and see.

Without Fail I Always Get The Answer: oh yes Definitely and Also It's Moderate to Severe, This Problem You Definitely Have

lmao???? am I really so unself-aware??

[a-b-riddle]

Can’t stop thinking about poly141 who get so wrapped up in their own bullshit they begin to neglect reader. So you leave 🤷🏼‍♀️

It wasn’t a big deal at first. You understood that their jobs were intense to say the least. You own a bookshop, which in itself was exhausting, but you understood how they could get carried away with work.

You had excused the many delayed returned texts or missed FaceTime dates when they were deployed. When they came home, they almost always made it up to you. Showering you with attention and quality time.

But the past two returns home have been… different.

Usually at least one of them made a beeline to your shop or your loft if it was too late in the evening. You always held your breath when it was just one of them.

“They’re okay.” Was the usual answer. “Everyone made it back okay.” It was only then that you could melt into whoever’s hands you were in.

After one of their recent returns home you had voice to Price that you didn’t appreciate several days passing after they came back and no one had bothered to tell you. He had snapped. Arguing that a mission doesn’t finish just because they land back on soil. There was paperwork and debriefing to be done. If and when they wanted to see you they would.

He didn’t apologize until later. Crawling into your bed, using one of the keys you had given them. Blaming the stress. How they had almost lost Johnny for the reason of his outburst. What else could you do but forgive him?

So you had given them space after that one. Not holding it against them to decompress before seeing you.

The next time was the final straw. Solidifying how little they cared about you and how much power you had given them.

Johnny had come in around 7 one evening. He was dressed nicely, for civilian standards. You were reading a book on the couch when he had let himself in. You were wearing on of Simon’s sweatshirts and panties. He took you in for a moment before scooping you up.

He fucked you absolutely stupid. Adamant on having you cum on his tongue, his fingers and his cock. You were only able to bask in the afterglow of him filling you up before he started pulling his pants back on.

“What are you doing?” There were times that you would practically need a crow bar to get Johnny detached from you just long enough to relieve yourself. You had gotten many a UTI courtesy of Mr. John MacTavish.

“Dinner with my family tonight.” He explained by the time he was already buttoning his shirt. “The youngest just graduated and ma’ feels the need to go all out.” Now came the tie. Johnny was actually wearing a tie. To go to dinner. “A fancy dinner in London.” He huffed. “Meanwhile I’m out scufflin’ with bloody fuckin’ terrorists and I get a pat on the back.” He gave you a peck on the cheek before heading out the door. Promising to call you later.

You just sat in your bed. Still naked. Almost in shocked. He had fucked you and just… left. You were close to a panic attack as you called Simon.

Simon wasn’t the one to cuddle and coddle. But there was something so soothing at the sound of his voice or even how his heavy body felt perfect laying on top of you. Yes. Simon wasn’t the time to lift you up with words, but he was your own security blanket. Just having him close helped.

“Can you come over?” It wasn't unusal for Simon to be the one to come later in the evening. Insomnia was a bitch to deal with and you could sleep through the sounds of whatever he played on the tv. Most of the times you were content laying your head on his lap as he ran his hand along your head as if he were petting you. It was a bit cringe, but it knocked you out every time.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. The low timber of his voice already calming you.

“Johnny came over.” You sniffled. “He just fucked me and left.”

“Not surprised.” He scoffed. You could almost see him rolling those deep brown eyes of his. “If you wanted to cum, I’m happy to come over and help.”

For whatever reason, that only seemed to make you more upset. “You’re not listening.” You said, trying to spell it out for him. “He left. Like didn’t even stay and cuddle just left. Fucked me and left.”

“That’s why you’re calling me crying about?” He almost seemed… annoyed.

“Yes!” You said, nearly snapping. All of the tension from the last several months coming to the surface. “I’m not just a warm body to keep a bed cozy until you assholes decide you need to get one off.” Assholes. You called them assholes. “This isn’t what we agreed to.”

“Johnny is Johnny.” Simon tried to defend, not really caring to continue the conversation now knowing that you weren't in any sort of physical harm. “He wanted his dick wet and from the sound of it, that’s what he did. Don’t hold it against him because he had other things to do.”

“It’s not just Johnny leaving.” Your throat felt like it was tightening. A telltale sign you were close to crying. Whether from sadness or anger you weren't entirely sure. “The only time any of you want anything to do with me anymore is to fuck.” You missed date nights and lunches. You missed texting any and all of them about your day, about theirs. About new books. You had been trying for months to tell them over dinner one of your books got picked up. Yours was being traditionally published.

None of them had bothered to even try penciling you in.

“You got yours.” You heard the popping of a can top. Simon was settling in for the night. Once he popped a top at home there was no getting him out. He wasn't coming for you. “I don’t understand what you’re bitchin’ to me about. Yeah, in the beginning we indulged ya a bit? Dressed you up, took you out. But you should have known spreadin’ them legs of yours wouldn’t end with one of us puttin’ a ring on your finger.”

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? These were the men that pursued you. Initially, individually, but when tensions became to much they offered a solution. All of them. Four times the attention, of the affection.

Four times the love.

But also four time the neglect. Four times the amount of heartbreak and disappointment. Loving all of them meant putting yourself in a position to let each of them hurt you in their own way and they had.

John's constant state of snapping at you as if you were one of his men.

Johnny swinging by as if you were just a fuck buddy. Not even bothering to give a peck before leaving.

Kyle essentially ignoring you for weeks now. Ghosting you for hours or having to cancel on date nights last minute or claiming that he really did forget that the two of you had planned to meet for lunch.

And now there was Simon. Telling you that all you meant to them was what was between your thighs.

Spreadin' them legs of yours wouldn't end with one of us puttin' a ring on your finger.

None of them ever intended on making this into something more. That much was clear now.

You didn't know what to say to Simon. You couldn't think of a witty retort. You couldn't find the proper insult to whirl his way. You couldn't convey just how much his words had hurt.

So you did the only thing you could.

You hung up.

[the-midnight-blooms]

ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍʏ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ

pairing: CEO!park seonghwa x scientistwife!reader

AU: modern au

word count: 6.3k

masterlist

In the midst of a fragile soul dwindling under the aches of animosity, the married couple laid in bed with their backs facing each other. The husband, Park Seonghwa, an esteemed CEO of a pharmaceutical company ‘Park Pharmaceuticals.’ had the front board of the book lodged into the silk casing of his pillow with his other hand steadying it so he could still, quite painfully, scan his eyes over the text. Agitated, he got up with a grunt before sitting up to finish the chapter of his book. With his scientists publishing reports on the latest medicine they were developing, he immediately rushed back to his university textbooks to affirm he was still equipped with the necessary knowledge to understand the science. Meanwhile, Mrs Park- a research scientist at Park Pharmaceuticals' rival company, ‘Kim Pharma.’ was battling against her insomnia despite motherhood knocking her straight off her feet. Their daughter, Park Dami, was fast asleep in the room next door to Seonghwa’s study cuddling the little Toothless toy he had gifted her when she was still a cherub. It had seemed that Mrs Park was prone to falling asleep at the most odd times of day, whether it be during dinner or cleaning the home.

Perhaps it was the heartache she was suffering from. The love that she had held for her husband was a permanent fixture, a vow that she had promised not to break, and one she had not and never would for as long as she lived. However, the increasingly distant behaviour from her husband in light of his burgeoning role as CEO had her heart yearning for him. Being a mother was difficult and of course, so was Seonghwa’s job. Yet, he also had duties as husband and a father, which he seemed eager to abandon altogether.

“Why can’t you try to understand how difficult it is for me to do all of this? So much pressure at work, then I come to you going on about some stupid dinner with your parents!” He shouted, she flinched at the dissonance of his noxious tone reverberating off the walls of the small study- biting down at her lip.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave.”

“Sorry, my arse. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be fucking nagging in my ear all the time, would you?” He barked, as she sped out of the room. It had been three weeks since she had, politely and quietly, asked her husband if he was free to attend her mother’s dinner party. He refused, erratically, and despite having apologised with saccharine kisses and diligent promises, he didn’t turn up to dinner in the end.

“Oh he’s busy Mum. He’s seeing to some of the lab work, you know how stressful it was for me.” Her father complained light-heartedly, raising how unfair it was of him to neglect his family.

“Do you want to me have a chat with him? I can give him a good word.” Hastily, she steered her father away from that direction. The last thing she needed was Seonghwa to turn around and blame her for the earache her father would give.

With a relentless sigh, she sat up reaching for the bottle of water on the nightstand. His eyes flickered at her movements, lips moving up and down to form the shape of the words as he silently committed them to memory, forming judicious links between the knowledge and application.

“Seonghwa.” She called out for him, he hummed in return, barely reeling his eyes off the page. Please look at me. “I was thinking about going back to work again. I contacted my manager about restarting and at the moment I would only need to go in for about two days or so.” Shutting his book close, he finally met her stare, deep in contemplative thought.

“Do you think you can work and take care of Dami at the same time?” He questioned. She had thought about this several times before she dialled in her manager’s number. As much as she had inherited her father's kind-hearted nature, stunning beauty, and soft-spoken voice in the end it was the passivity she had drawn from her mother naturally rendering herself subservient to prioritise ones needs over her own. Essentially, if she had told Dami to keep her lips on a tight seal and remain of the sofa the whole day: she would.

“I’m sure I can as long as she's in sight. She'll be in nursery from September, so I'll be able to start work.” He fell a little quiet, turning to drop his book onto the night stand.

“Ok, if that’s what you want. If you need me to come home earlier, I mean I can’t at the moment, but in a few weeks time if you need me to-then I will.” Nodding, she sent him a grateful smile before sliding back under the covers to turn her night light off.

Her heels clicked, exasperatedly, on the porcelain white floor dashing straight through the double doors; her heart pounded furiously against her chest, a violent ache gnawing at her arteries. With her body almost barging into a number of figures, her anxious apologies echoed into the swamped corridors, in which her colleagues shook their tired heads in annoyance. Finally, reaching the top floor she scuttled out of the elevator catching the eyes of Mrs Lee.

"Lab coat, darling, lab coat." Squealing, she unbuttoned the off-white coat, scowling at the permanent pen marks and splashes of iodine before handing it to Mr Kim's assistant. Mrs Lee, threw the coat onto her seat, gesticulating for the young scientist to follow her. After a short knock, the heavy glass door was pushed open; several pairs of eyes darting their way.

"Ah, Miss Cheong! How nice of you to join us!" Hongjoong exclaimed, a teasing glint in his eyes that wanted to make her wipe the smirk of his lips.

"My apologies, Mr Kim, we ran into a problem down at the lab." She explained, a blush forging on her cheeks as a grave set of eyes burned into her skin.

"No worries. This is Miss Cheong, she will be our project lead on the next Kim-Park program." The Kim-Park program was founded by Kim Hongjoong of Kim Pharma and Park Seonghwa of Park Pharmaceuticals. With both companies leading the pharmaceutical industry, both founders decided in order to produce a greater economic boom, and serve an excellent supply chain of mandatory medicine; both of their greatest minds could work together to create poignant breakthroughs in the scientific sector. After all, the two companies had the countries top scientists working for them but together they could very well improve the nature of modern medicine. Hence, today both CEO’s came together for a kick off meeting establishing the blueprint for their next, biggest projects.

"'No worries?'" A derisive voice arose from across the room, where she snapped her head to find a man with wide eyes and thin-rimmed square glasses that sat at the bridge of his long nose, staring back at her. His long, slicked back hair that fell past his ears as he, mockingly, cocked his head to the side in amusement. "I didn't know Kim Pharma tolerated tardiness, Mr Kim." Returning his stare back to Hongjoong, he raised an eyebrow anticipating his answer.

“What was the problem down at the lab?”

“House fire." She retorted, "And I had to assign interns some lab work. Kim Pharma doesn't tolerate tardiness Mr Park but your project manager doesn't seem to be here? We'd have valued him being present at the kick off meeting." His face heated red in embarrassment as he gritted his teeth.

Park Seonghwa was insufferable.

The worst thing about him wasn't even that he was pedantic and scrutinised her work with a keen eye, or that his sharp attention-to-detail left her wanting to force him to chug a beaker of concentrated hydrochloric acid. It was that under his strictly co-ordinated demeanour, he was a beautiful man blessed with an angel's aura. It was that he was tall and that his voice could hypnotise her; send her lunging over a precipice into the expanse of uncharted oceans. At times his allure had her wanting to excuse her pathetic hatred. They bickered at every meeting, every email was sent with 'Regards' rather than 'Kind Regards'. It wasn't long before the bickering had transgressed to shouting in the boardroom as he began to question her teachings, snickering at every intellectual point she made as if she had not graduated from university with the same degree as himself.

"You forgot to add that cisplatin is a cis isomer." He stated, as she sat across from her in his office. This time, she didn't bother to retain herself from rolling her eyes. "A problem, Miss Cheong?"

"Who's reading this report, Mr Park? A high school student or the manufacturer? Any man with common sense and college level chemistry knows that cisplatin is a cis isomer. Do you want me to also write down that it has a square planar shape with a bond angle of 90 degrees?" She snapped, leaning back in her chair with a disgusted look. He smirked taking off his glasses, cleaning the lens with the hem of his blazer sleeve. Dear god. Sedate me.

"No, but you do need to explain how cisplatin works in detail. It only works as cis isomer, not trans. You didn't specify that."

"You're incredibly pedantic." Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his perfectly defined nose, the smirk remained fixed on his lips. "I'm not surprised people are handing in resignations, at your company, every week."

"They can leave if they wish, lazy people don't contribute to Park Pharmaceuticals' success." Oh and he was cocky too. As well as being a pretty face full of wits, Park Seonghwa was also wrought with egotism that made her want to wrangle his gorgeous, slender neck. "Have you ever considered joining our company?" A snicker escaped from her lips which eventually transcended into a laughter that wholly baffled him.

"I'm afraid I'd be a part of that sorry statist-,"

"I'm sorry for being an arsehole, Miss Cheong. Can I make it up to you?" And when she questioned him how he would make it up to her, he proposed the idea of a date. All he wanted was her, regardless of her much she was everything he was not. “Go on a date with me, please.” He blurted, with her feet rooted to the ground and lips falling into a thin line his heart palpitated within his chest. He sought the way her hair fell over her shoulders in light waves having ripped it from its knot after she walked out of the lab. Her pink lips were practically begging to be touched by his, he wanted to soothe the symphony of weary sighs that dispersed from her, and the headache that wracked her brain from his abstruse behaviour. Above all, he was falling in love with Miss Cheong because he despised her in such a paradoxical way. He hated the way she was smarter than him and beautiful in the way that she must have been carved from the clouds of heaven.

It often made her giggle at Hongjoong's astonishment when she handed him the wedding invitation. His excitement when he ripped open the seal to read Seonghwa's name as the groom, dropped the smile from his face as he looked at his college friend.

"You're marrying the enemy?" She shook her head at him, almost scolding him for deeming Seonghwa the 'enemy'. "This isn't what I meant when I said 'Fuck Park Seonghwa." Lobbing the pillow at his head, he dramatically sunk into his sofa as their childlike laughter eructed into the blithe atmosphere.

It had felt like a distant dream now, to be loved and adored in the ways that he once did. To be held as if every touch was their last, to be kissed as if their lips would never meet again and they were lovers in the midst of an age-old war that would tear their nimble hearts apart. To have her husband again and not a dispassionate demon who tore past the gates of hell and inflict all the condemned’s curses on her.

Giving you my all, giving you my everything. Laying my life down at your feet, stripping myself of my own honour just to feel something by you. A glance, a breath, a sigh. You tell me to leave- I don’t mean anything to you anymore.

"Hwa, you could have at least told me you weren't going to go in the first place. Then I wouldn't have gone to the company party." Sat at the foot of the bed, he pulled the jumper over his torso, pulling his trapped hair out from the neck hole. He bit his tongue as his wife rebuked him for his absence, once again. "Do you know how humiliating it was for me to be the only one sat without her husband there?"

"I told you I was going to run late."

"You were four hours late, and you're a half an hour drive to the office! Why didn't you say no, in the first place?" Tearing the earring out from her lobe, she sunk into the chair trying her hardest to not slip into tears; the sympathetic stares of hundreds etched into her memory. How stupid did she look for being dressed so ostentatiously, when the real jewel was not even in her possession? The clatter of pearls emptied into the drawers, hands buried into palm of her hands closing her eyes to relive the myriad of dejection. They never said marriage was this painful. Hard, yes. But not painful. "Hwa, do you love me?" She inquired, turning around in her seat.

"What?"

"It's as simple as you think. Do. You. Love. Me?" Her voice wavered as she asked him, the distant stare in his eyes revealed answers to the questions that she did not want answered.

“If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t have married you. Or given you a beautiful daughter. I miss one, silly, company event and you start throwing a tantrum.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve completely abandoned me!” Her shout restituted off the thin light blue walls, jumping from her seat at his petty arguments. “You are such a terrible husband and you make me feel trapped in this marriage!”

“And you fucking suffocate me! You suffocate me!” He roared across the room, his strident tone penetrating through her, grazing down the surface of her heart. Rupturing the weak seams that held it together. Stumbling backwards, her palms gripped onto the mahogany table; shaking, biting down her lip to prevent a sob from escaping. "The only time I felt like I could ever breathe, in this marriage, was when I was not with you. When I was at work, or with the others, or just anywhere else. But never with you." Dipping her head, away from him, she shut her eyes as tight as she could.

"Please stop." she whispered, a plead so quiet it almost went unspoken. Yet Seonghwa heard it anyway because no matter how angry he was, their souls were still intertwined. Their hearts beat as one, they were uniform, one whole being. Slowly, he treaded towards her, mimicking the dip of head.

"Why? Can't you take the truth?" he mocked. Full tears pooled in her eyes, her chest burning from holding in her breath. "I should divorce you." He proclaimed, without a stutter. That was enough to break her. An obnoxious wail infiltrated into the void of the room. Was that what he wanted? To provoke some sort of emotion from her to satisfy his ego? He scoffed, before darting from the room-slamming the door shut behind him. Wrought with tears she trudged to her bed, slipping under the covers; sobbing herself unconscious.

"Mummm. Ammiii. Ammaaa." A small voice whispered, the softness soothing the persisting ache in her chest. Holding back the smile ready to break through, she fixed her eyes shut waiting to see what her daughter would do next.

"Dami, let your mother sleep. Come on." The urge to smile had dropped instantaneously, the familiar sense of forlorn gushing into her again; his sweet, addictive voice puncturing holes into her heart.

"I'm hungry." She could hear the pout on her daughter's lips. Huffing, she groaned loudly snapping at her daughters attention, who jumped up and down in excitement of her mother awaking. Reaching out for her child, she picked her up settling her down on her laps. "Mama, I'm hungry." She squeaked.

"Have you washed up yet?" She shook her head. "Ok, let me go to the bathroom first. Then I'll help you."

"I'll help her wash up." Seonghwa offered. Refusing to look at him, she simply gave him a curt nod, the sight of his face wanting to make her erupt into a fit of sobs.

"I promise I'll never make you cry." He had promised, before their marriage. They sat under the stars, the cool wind brushing at their cheeks. Astronomy books sat scattered around her as she attempted to map out constellations in the beaming night.

"And if you do?" She challenged, playfully smirking. With a cute frown he gave her a nudge.

"I promise I won't but in the 0.00001 percent chance that I do, then you should leave me. You’re worth more than the moon to me, and to hurt you is the deadliest sin I can commit." He immediately leaned forward to swoop her into a deep kiss- both of them smiling as they did. The memory of his now-broken promise brought tears to her eyes again. Tightly pressing her palm to her mouth, to hold back her cries, she sucked in yet another breath. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

Gripping onto the bathroom sink until her knuckles bled white, her knees hit the floor. Nicking the handle of the tap- tears freely flowed down her cheeks as the water rushed through the basin at rapid speed. I want my baby back.

Feeling the heavy burden of a collapsing marriage, her shoulders sunk as she chopped at the onions, preparing their dinner. Dami sat on the stool by the kitchen island, with her mini crayons scribbling over the pictures in the colouring book.

“Mama, why did Appa sleep in my room yesterday?” Scraping the onions into the pan, she grabbed the wooden spoon to stir it.

“He was missing his little princess. He wasn’t causing you trouble, was he?” She teased, sending her a forced smile. God, it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay happy. To smile was to pain her cheeks, they felt more contented relaxed than to uplift and radiate an aura of joy that didn’t seem to exist within her anymore.

“He’s so big, I fell off bed.” She snorted, laughing at her child’s proclamation. It was not long before a thought occurred to her that whenever they slept in the same bed- it was always her that took up the most room-rather than him. A fond memory occurred to her, specifically a night where her body was plastered to his.

“Ah, jagi, can you move a little? I’m up against the window?” Her body shuffled slightly to the left, giving him room to breathe a little bit more. “Thank god.” He huffed out a sigh of relief, her lips fell into a pout- as she rolled further away from him towards the edge of the bed. If space was what he wanted, then she was going to give it to him. Seonghwa’s arm outstretched for her, the cold air battering his skin was no comfort, he wanted her again. A tantalising laugher infiltrated the air, he shuffled closer to her pressing his lips to the top of her head.

“Never mind I need my cuddly bunny.” He sang, nestling his face into the crook of her neck. Now, she couldn’t remember the last time he had held her so close to himself. If anything, he needed the space now and rested just less than a metre apart from her each night.

“It was nice! Appa is a teddy bear.”

“Am I, my princess?” Turning away from the doorway, she opened the cupboard to reach for the spices, shielding her melancholic face away from him. The sweet dissonance of giggling entered her ears, if he had no love to spare for her at least he had enough to spare for his daughter. “Ahem, I’m going on a business dinner tonight.”

“Ok.” Seonghwa watched her, resting his hand on the top of his daughter’s head who went straight back to colouring in the flowers in her book-switching to a pink crayon at that. “What time will you be home?” He shrugged, then quickly noticed that with her back to him she wouldn’t see.

“I don’t know. Don’t wait up.” How could he say that knowing that there wasn’t a night in their marriage where she didn’t sit patiently on the sofa, waiting for him to come back home. Even on the days where he warned her he’d be back a lot later than usual. Regardless, she’d stay plastered to the sofa switching from the tv, to her phone, to a random book-eyes continuously flickering to clock- skipping to the kitchen to shove snacks into her mouth, as she’d never eat without him.

The urge to erupt into a fit of sobs inclined, chewing on her lip violently provided her with enough solace to finish making dinner, feed her daughter and put her to bed. Then at last, when she closed the curtains to her bedroom, a hushed cry escaped her; spending the rest of her night as she did prior, wailing and wailing until fatigue had lulled her weary heart to sleep. The creak of the door went unnoticed to her, Seonghwa crept in; her sleeping figure rested in the bed, the comforter dragged over her head. He sighed, contemplating whether to slip beside her or retreat back to Dami’s room for the night.

This sequence continued for the next few weeks, every night she would cry herself to sleep and Seonghwa would sleep in Dami’s bed. It wasn’t even their room at this point, it was hers with Seonghwa’s things in it-just like her flat pre-marriage. Her room with Seonghwa’s books, few pieces of clothes and odd bits of trinkets. One morning she woke up to find a stack of papers on her nightstand. Fear coursed through her blood, were these the divorce papers that he had suggested to her? Rifling through the papers, her heart soothed as soon as she realised they were just Dami’s crayon drawings. Stick figures of Appa, Amma, and little Dami in the middle. Drawings of flowers, then one just of Amma and Appa, a big heart between them. If only that were true. If only his heart still beat for her the same way hers beat for him.

She heard his voice trail out of the study, as she almost raised her hands to knock and summon him downstairs for lunch. The rapid muttering halted her movements, instead she tentatively pressed her ears against the door to assess the situation.

“Yes, honey, I’ll be there soon…She’s pissing me off right now. I’m trying to get the papers set at the moment…I don’t know about a few more weeks?” Slapping her hand to her mouth, she squeezed her lips shut to prevent any pained sounds from releasing. Honey? There was another woman? And the papers? Was he really, truly, trying to divorce her? Rushing to the bathroom, she slammed the door shut, flipping the tap back open to relive the same endless cycle.

“I’m going on a work trip to Japan, for a week. We have an important business meeting. I might need you take care of Dami by yourself.” His head snapped from up Dami’s unfinished Lego project. She’d fallen asleep when playing, so her father took it upon herself to finish building the set.

“You should have asked me beforehand. You can’t just accept to go offshore, and then give me a week’s notice.” He scolded, playing with the pink block between his fingers.

“I only got told today. I tried to call you whilst I was still in office, but I couldn’t get through to you.” Sighing, his shoulders slumped as he shook his head in disappointment. It appeared that Mrs Park was also refraining important matters from her husband; making decisions of her own that they promised they’d always make together. An uncomfortable silence remained suspended in the tense air, shifting uncomfortably in her spot as she awaited for him to say something else. Even if it was to belittle her, she urged to hear the sound of his voice.

“If you cared enough about me, you’d know I’m busy too.” Chewing down on her lip, she held back a painful sigh. There it is. “We’ll be with my parents for a week while you’re gone. When’s your flight?”

“Sunday night.” Nodding, he scooped up the remaining pieces on the floor pouring them back into the packet before getting up himself. “I’ll pick you up from the airport.”

The work trip to Japan was just as tranquil as she anticipated, the host company was as hospitable as they could be. The days were cut short, the air silent subsiding one into deep thought, even if they denied themselves the pleasures of having to think. With her knees tucked up to her chest, she stared out onto the vast market of skyscrapers, the teeming arena beneath contributing the noises that fell deaf at her ears. She needed to leave the home, its confining airs strangling the lumen of her windpipe. She didn't exactly know what to do now that it was confirmed: Seonghwa did not love her. The declaration was enough to send her into delirium, enough to have her jolting up at night; drowning in cold sweats, preaching his name like a mantra. The flight home did not come soon enough, she boarded the plane with such eagerness and drenched even further in pain when she was assigned the seat next to her colleague and her husband.

Nervously, she dialled in his number once more hurriedly, tapping her feet against the cobbled footpath; her free hand latched onto the sweaty handle of the suitcase. Pick up, pick up, pick up. Being met by the voicemail service was disheartening, wrapping her arms around herself as the wind blew harsh against her skin sending a ripple of goosebumps over her.

"Mrs Park, is your taxi late?" Whipping her head around to find her colleague, she shook her head in dismay. "Do you need a lift? We don't live too far from each other."

Pushing through the large wooden gates of his childhood home, she adjusted the straps of her back pack lifting her head to find the blaring of orange lights through the slits between the window blinds. A small bustle of activity could be heard from the other end, tentatively, her fingers rose to provoke the silver door knocker.

"I'll get the door!" His voice floated through the surface, reaching out to caress the aches on her skin bruised wholly by him. As soon as their eyes met across the doorway, the smile was wiped clean from his lips. “Oh god, I’m sorry, it had completely slipped my mind-,”

“You don’t forget things, Hwa. The truth is: it didn’t slip from your mind, you just didn’t care.” You haven’t cared about me for a very long time. You haven’t loved me in a long time. I am no longer your wife but just Dami’s mother, to you. Though some sort of vile emotion named fear had prevented her from saying those words, becoming lodged at the crux of her throat, floating on the tip of her tongue.

The worst thing was, he didn’t say anything. He was silent, unwilling to reckon against her and fight for their marriage again. When did he become so passive? Up until now, when was there a day in their relationship when he didn’t fight to keep her at his side? Trudging into the household, the warmth lacerated her skin, taking off her shoes as the pattering of small feet came her way. A small body engulfed her larger frame, the delightful giggles of her daughter infiltrated her ears as her mother finally came home to her.

"We ate sooo much food. We had tteokbokki, dakgalbi, ramen. Halmeoni tried to make me eat yaksik but it was nasty." Letting out a tired moan she fell onto the floorboard, Dami crawling on top of her, as her mother-in-law stuffed her with enough food to last her a century.

"Ugh, Dami. Please get off Amma, my tummy is going to explode."

"Halmeoni! Amma ate too much!"

"Your Amma didn't eat enough!" Eomeonim shouted back from the kitchen. Seonghwa ambled into the room settling a cup of green tea in front of her, whilst simultaneously lifting Dami from her stomach. There was an uncomfortable silence amongst them as their daughter, oblivious to the obvious tension between her parents, entertained them nevertheless by dancing around the room and singing. He left the room in between to see to his mother in the kitchen. Feeling terrible for leaving her to tend to the mound of dishes, she carried behind walking straight into the enemy's territory.

“Are you stupid, boy? How could you even suggest a divorce?” She hissed. “It was only yesterday when you came running to me, with your eyes so full of love. Where is that love now?”

“People change.” He deadpanned, hot tears fulfilled her eyes, blurring her vision as she rushed back to the front room.

“We’re going, now!” She ordered, a pout on her daughter’s face grazed the surface of her heart. She couldn’t stand here, and hear her husband declare that he didn’t love her anymore. She couldn’t watch the love of her life slip from the tips of her fingers, whilst she sunk beneath the earth under her feet. She grabbed his car keys, from his jacket. “We’re going home, eomeonim. I need to go into the office, tomorrow. Thank you so much for taking care of Dami.” Kissing the top of her mother’s head, she slipped on her shoes before carrying Dami out of the home. Seonghwa followed hot on her heels.

“Where do you think you’re going at this time of night?”

“Home, Hwa.” The lock clicked out of the place, she jerked open the car door to fasten her daughter into the seat ignoring her cries and pleads to stay at her grandmother’s. “Dami! Quiet!” She roared, the same way Seonghwa would shout at her for nights on end for doing nothing other than being his wife.

“Stop acting like a child and come back inside right now!” He commanded.

“I won’t, Hwa. Because the next time I go back in and let myself be hurt by you, I’ll have no one to blame but me.” He fell quiet, swallowing the heavy lump in his throat. “I am the still the girl who would wait nights for her husband to come home to her. But you are no longer the boy that would walk straight into her arms.” Choking on her sobs, she jerked open the car door to slip inside, her daughter calling out for her father. After all, they were the same woman. Both so utterly in love with the same man that could not love them both in the ways one could dream of being in love. For being in love with him was asking for annihilation, his devotion unreachable like the stars studded in the midnight sky. Was he not made from the stars? An angel borne from light, whose banner was a celestial plane that would diminish the human essence in a heartbeat? Steering the car out of his driveway, Seonghwa stood plastered to the floor a single tear dropping from his eye as he felt his soul meander away from him.

That night, when they reached home, Dami was tight in her arms after having cried the whole journey home from missing her father. Eventually, exhaustion overpowered her and she reluctantly slept in her mother’s arms. She was so sure now that her daughter thought she was the villain for ripping her away from her father. Nuzzling her small face deeper into her mother’s neck, she felt her bottom lip tremble as she called out for her father.

There was no need to frantically run to the post box every time a letter slipped through, meeting the ground with a loud thud. Though, she did it anyway, with little Dami scuttling behind her as if she was expecting a letter herself though deep down Mrs Park knew that she wanted her Appa to come home. It had been a month having not heard back from him. No messages or calls. After work, she ventured over to his office only to be turned away by his assistant; catching a quick glance at his shadow through his window.

“I have to make an appointment to see my own husband?” She uttered through gritted teeth, though the woman in front merely nodded, disinterestedly. “When is Mr Park next available?” The jarring clatter against the keyboard gnawed at her ear drums, annoyance fulfilling her.

Fuck this. Rushing to the handle of his door, she keeled it open storming inside-the loud slam of the door jumping him up from where he sat in his seat. The assistant rushed behind, squawking about how she had to leave.

“Cilla, it’s ok. Go do your job.” He ordered, softly with his eyes fixated on his wife. She didn’t expect him to look this way, the clean, composed Seonghwa now with tousled hair and small dark circles under his eyes. Eyes bloodshot red as if he had been crying for weeks on end, exhaustion piling in them. His sunken face as if he had not eaten for weeks-Seonghwa, not eating? The same man who used to kiss her hands and go for seconds, claiming there must have been some magic in them for she made such delicious food?

“Dami is getting upset. She misses her Dad. The least you could is come home and see her, so she doesn’t think that her father abandoned her too.”

“I’ve been busy-,”

“You’ll always be busy, Hw-Seonghwa. But not busy enough that you can’t spare an hour or two to see your daughter.” She spat, storming straight out of his office, sending the assistant a dirty look on her way to the elevator.

“Appa!” Dami’s animated tone weighed down her father’s heart, his arms wide open as she jumped into them. Fixing her spot by the kitchen doorway she watched as her husband played with her daughter. After a few hours, when they had put Dami to sleep, they sat with each other in the front room Seonghwa pulling out an envelope from his work satchel.

“The-uh- papers. Divorce papers.” A pang struck through her, hands shaking as she reached out for them.

“As her mother, I’ll have custody over her. You should be allowed to see her every week, so maybe the weekend?” Her voice quivered, slightly as she opened up the seal of the envelope, its woody scent wafting up her nose. With little energy, to pull out the form- she settled it onto the coffee table. “We’ll move to my mother’s house…” She trailed off biting down on her lip as Seonghwa closed his eyes shut.

“That’s fine. You can just post it to the lawyer. I’d like to see Dami at my office next week, could you do that?” Nodding diligently, she owed him that much. He’d be counting down the days soon until he’d rarely see his daughter. How would they tell her Amma and Appa weren’t as happy as they were in the drawings?

Her eyes scoured over the woman sat in front of him, as she opened the door to his office. God, she was beautiful with her long, black, silky hair, siren eyes, her chic office look. Everything she was not, though she had managed to pick herself up and put a lot more effort than she usually did with her fitted suit, hair tied back into a sleek bun-held up by the closest pen she could find on her dressing table since her silver claw clip was nowhere in sight. Was she the woman he was going to leave her for? She couldn’t even blame him at this point, why keep something expired when you could throw it away and have something new? Gripping onto the straps of her handbag, she slowly let go of her daughter’s hand who ran to her father’s side.

“Gaeun, this is my wife Mrs Park.” Timidly, she shook her hand. Gaeun saw Mrs Park as an intimidating woman, with her silent face as she ambled into the room with her daughter, her neat hair, pointed heels and tailored skirt that accentuated her curves. She matched Mr Park’s daunting presence perfectly, and of course her intelligence was known to all as well as her insistence to remain at his rivals’ company. “Dear, this is Gaeun- she’s one of the project leads on the next Kim-Park collaboration.”

“I see.” Her head picked up, giving both parties a short nod before leaving the office. She reckoned there was enough to time to make it to her own company and break down in the toilets before beginning the work day.

The rain thundered down from the sky on a solemn afternoon, the clatter of dishes being returned to the cupboards entailing the home; followed the thundering knock at the door. Peeking into the peep hole, the swung the door open, she pulled her husband in immediately rushing around him as he jerked off his shoes.

“Into the shower now.” Without hesitation, he grabbed his clothes from her bedroom before soundlessly making his way into the shower. She only assumed he had come to their home for the signed papers, it had been a while since he’d given them to her; though all she could think about was the way her pen could not even touch the sheet. The door to the study creaked open, as she bit her lip with the unsigned line glaring back at her.

“I haven’t- I haven’t signed the paper, yet.” His breath hitched in his throat, inching closer and closer to her. With the tickle in her throat pervasive, the pen neared the line her heart shattering with every second that her hands rebuked the damned sheet in front. How did she even do her signature?

“I’m sorry that you fell in love with me. I’m sorry that you married me. I’m sorry that I’m not enough. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the perfect wife for you.” She blurted, the pen falling from her fingers onto the table. He called out her name, drawing forward arms outstretched to encircle her into him. To hold her as tight and as true as she deserved. To fulfil her of kisses that he had deprived her of, to ease her of her pain. Though she stopped him in his tracks, with a palm to censor his movements. “No, Hwa. I haven’t been enough for you for a very long time. I must have done something wrong for you to hurt me like this. I must have done something much worse than what you’ve done to me. I just wished you spoke to me than gave me this stupid sheet and trying to end us in a single heartbeat.” An agonising wail left her lips, as she dropped to the floor tucking up her knees to her chest. Her lungs burned, desperate for air running her fingers through her hair as she slowly breathed out to ease the throbbing sensation loitering at her temples. He sunk to the floor with her, engulfing her frame within his. His jumper so soft, drenched in the scent that she adored. The same scent that he wore when they first met. Her bottom lip quivered again.

“You did nothing, it was all me. I forgot who I was, I forgot it was you who gave me life.” Her tears stained his shirt, he held her closer to his body. “I came to here to change your mind. I didn’t want you to sign those papers. I was so scared you had.” Their bodies rocked back and forth as the painful sound of her sobbing gradually declined.

“I couldn’t do it.” She whispered, her throat sore from this prolonging nightmare. Kissing away her tears, his fingers gently tilted up her head so he could bore his eyes in her beautiful ones. “I just need to know if there’s another woman. If there is, and you love her the same way you loved me, you can have her.”

“There was never another woman. It was always you I swear.” He pledged, as his own tears rushed down his face tickling his jawline before pattering carefully on his sweater. “I was just a poor excuse of a man, a poor excuse of a husband. I admit that I felt like you’d never leave me, but when I realised you really could it hurt me so much.” Drawing lines over his sweatshirt she listened to the sweet sound of his voice whisper into her ears.

“I’ll be a better man. I’ll work on me, and you can just keep on being a great wife and mother.” Their lips met in a frenzy of emotions, their palpitating hearts enamouring their befallen entities as passionate kisses filled the wounds that penetrated through them. His hands snaked around her waist, as hers ran through his long hair emitting a husky groan out of him. “Do you think Dami would like a sibling?” He joked, before being met by whack to the back of his head, they deepened the kiss before she happily rested her head against his chest.

“Maybe, but not now. Right now, you need to come home to us.”

“It’s just you and me now. Nothing’s going to hurt you baby.”

•••

All Right Reserved © the-midnight-blooms

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

cheong meaning 'quiet' 'eomeonim' means mother-in-law (husband's side) 'halmeoni' means grandma

A/N: i'm sorry if the ending seems a bit rushed, i'm going on some meds soon and i have no idea how shit i'm gonna feel while on them. wanted to update in case i have no energy to release something else for a while😖 Hope you guys liked this one! ✨✨

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

tags: @n0v4t33z @potatos-on-clouds @jjongwho

[zeynyukine3011]

Some Tim stans are acting like Damian fans are just mad Damian messed up and are insisting it is fine for a character to mess up. But Damian isn't messing up for his own character. This isn't for Damian to learn or grow. It doesn't even align with how Damian would reasonably mess up. This 'mess up' is most likely to sideline Damian for Tim. This is really obvious. Damian shouldn't have in character trusted Zur but he did so Tim can be the good Robin.

EXACTLY!!!!! I've seen several posts about how Damian wasn't OOC and he was "just a child who wanted his father's approval"

People who say this apparently didn't understand Damian's character.

Damian is the child who found his father's identity from a crowd without knowing anything about him. He understood that imposter Insomnia wasn't his father and immediately stabbed him with a sword.

Damian is clever, smart and cunning. In Batman and Robin (2011) he tricked both Batman and Nobody. And neither of them suspected anything until Damian revealed it himself.

But in Zur arc, Damian is just there to look dumb so he can show how "smart" and "perfect" Tim is. Beacuse Chip Zdarsky is basically screaming about his fanboying Tim.

As you just said, this is not something Damian would do. This is not a "mistake" that Damian can have. This incident does not, under any circumstance, add anything to Damian's character development. We have seen, since 2016, that Damian's development he had over the years were thrown to trash. All DC wants to do with him is to be villain.

I was actually starting to gain hope with Batman and Robin (2023) since Damian is not a villainized there (But I don't like how Williamson writes Damian either but at least he is better than Zdarsky. But that's another story.). Unfortunately, however, Damian is still contiuned to be used as a villain, a demon child who always makes stupid mistakes and causes disasters in return.

Like I said in my previous post, Damian will have to apologise for "the things he have done". And, once again, he will be shown as a dumbass who doesn't understand obvious things, and doesn't think the consequences of his actions.

If Damian was written in character, Damian would've notice the moment he laid his eyes on Failsafe, that it wasn't his father. Damian would've become a double agent. He would've secretly make plans to defeat Zur from inside.

Yet, with this writer, we will have a heroic Tim while down grading Damian.

Damian is only there so that Zur can have an evil sidekick and thus, DC can have their "Good B&R vs Evil B&R" fight.

I used to like Tim, actually. I thought he was cool and had potential and could be good brothers with Damian. But in last years, writers always downgrade and badmouth other Robins (particularly Damian) to shine the spotlights to Tim. And while Tim has awesome moments with Bruce, while he saves him, Damian has a horrible relationship with his father. Bruce tells him that even though he loves him, he doesn't like Damian, or just how brash and cruel Damian is, or blaming Damian for Alfred's death etc.

Tim can be written as a good Robin, and for this, DC doesn't need to sweep the floor with the other Robins.

[irondad-defensesquad]

A/N: touch starvation strikes again!!!!!! Blame my insomnia.

I'm so sorry for being unoriginal, lmao.

EDIT: now posted on AO3!

DO NOT SHIP PETER AND TONY. P/ROSHIP DNI.

--

“H-Hey, Mr. Stark, what’s up?”

“Oh, hey, kid.”

Tony is working on Iron Man. He doesn’t completely ignore Peter, but the latter isn’t the focus right now, clearly.

Peter pretends his eyes aren’t tearing up.

He feels so childish or it.

What was he expecting? That Tony would hug him to welcome him back in the workshop? Or at least pat his shoulder? Anything physical?

They’re not there yet.

Peter rushes to the most distant counter in the lab, so Tony doesn’t realize how upset he is. Maybe Peter just needs to focus on homework right now.

His skin feels odd. It feels itchy. But not like mosquito bites or allergies. It’s asking for something, and he doesn’t know what it is. Peter has tried to hug himself several times lately and it never works. His shoulders and back are tense, and his leg is shaking but moving it or walking doesn’t make it stop.

Tony is still there working, apparently not noticing that Peter is far away.

And Peter hates that. Even though he wanted to sit there to avoid questions.

What does he want, then? For Tony to notice? Shouldn’t he just ask him? No, no that would be too obvious, and he doesn’t want to get in the way of his mentor’s work.

Peter just feels like weeping pathetically. He couldn’t sleep well last night, wanting someone there with him. Aunt May got home too late, and he knew she needed all the time to rest before starting another day.

Then Ned didn’t go to school today because he got sick. MJ wasn’t around either, but Peter has no idea why. She never talks to him.

The arachnid stares at the blank homework paper. Peter can’t think straight.

Gulping, he stands up and quickly tries to come up with an excuse.

“I’ll, uh… g-get something to drink…” Peter says it rather lowly. So, obviously, Tony doesn’t quite mind it. The man hums, but it could be at the Iron Man projection in front of him.

Peter tries to silence the childish urge to run away to his room to cry. He just walks away miserably to the kitchen.

He opens the huge fridge. There’s literally everything there. Water, juice, soda, wine (probably Pepper’s), and then in the freezer there’s ice cream. Tony mostly buys them for Peter, but the man might eat them every now and then.

Once again, he stands there frozen.

Staring at everything but seeing nothing that could soothe him.

Peter takes a can of soda, but once he opens it, it spills all over the floor because of the gas.

“No, no, NO- goddammit!” He curses. He has to clean that.

But he can’t, either.

Peter just starts crying because of some stupid soda. He tries holding it in, to no avail.

Come on, I have to clean this and go back to the lab, he thinks. But Mr. Stark is too busy for me. He doesn’t want to hug me. Why would he? He’s just my…

… What is Tony to him, really?

“Peter? Where are you—”

Someone freezes.

“Oh my god, Peter, are you okay? Are you hurt?” Tony rushes to him, expecting the worst.

“N-No, I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Tony reassures him, seeing that it’s just spilled drink on the floor that can easily be handled. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing.”

“Come on, get up, let’s sit for a bit.”

Peter might flinch at the hands rubbing his shoulders like it’s a small massage. Tony stops and Peter hates him for it.

Either way, he obeys Tony, and he sits on the nearest chair. The latter takes less than five minutes to clean the soda off the floor. Then, he sits in front of Peter.

“You can talk to me, bud. Is it school? Patrol? Something else?”

“N-No, you don’t have to worry about it…”

“Well, I do. I’m not gonna let you suffer like this.”

Peter clutches his own sleeves.

“… You didn’t even notice me when I arrived.”

“What?”

Oh, shit. Now what?

“Y-You didn’t even look at me or- or- I dunno!” Peter keeps talking without much filter. “Like me being there wouldn’t have made a difference. But like… y-you don’t have to pay attention to me 24/7, Mr. Stark, I’m sorry I got mad about that, it’s just, something is wrong with me, I didn’t sleep well last night, school has been bad but it was worse today, I haven’t actually talked to anyone in… days? I think? But not just that, I…”

Peter sheds tears again, the anger being more towards himself, not Tony.

“I thought you’d at least… welcome me.” Hug me. Hug me after a horrible day. After so many bad days. “B-But- it’s not your fault, I’m just being stupid.”

“Oh, kiddo… I’m so sorry.” Tony looks so guilty.

Peter regrets saying anything. “No, you don’t have to—”

“No, you’re right, I didn’t pay attention to you. I’m sorry.”

“Like I said, you don’t have to—”

“Yeah, but dang it, I should’ve asked. I should’ve noticed something at least.”

“Maybe I should’ve said something, too. But I was scared you’d get annoyed.”

“See, I didn’t mean for you to think that way. You’re not going to annoy me. Sorry I didn’t make that clear to you.”

Peter would’ve protested, but they might be here forever, so he sighs in defeat. “Okay.”

He’s staring at his own lap, his jeans stained with several teardrops.

In the meantime, Tony looks at him. Maybe trying to figure out what Peter needs right now.

It doesn’t take long, really.

Tony stands up and offers a hand. Peter expects him to just help him get on his feet again.

Only for Tony to immediately pull him in his arms.

And he says nothing else.

Just breathes with Peter.

The boy is frozen for a good time before he returns the hug with some desperation. Please, don’t let go, don’t let go.

Tony automatically squeezes him in response. I’ve got you, you’re safe.

Yeah, Tony makes him feel safe. Whether in the armor or not… he’s a hero.

He keeps rubbing Peter’s back, trying to relax his tense muscles. It always makes Peter flinch inside, which is, weirdly… soothing. The itching is dispersing, calming down.

He might cry again, but it’s out of relief.

The teen pretty much lies down on the other. Tony might be smiling. Soon, he nuzzles Peter’s head.

“Kid?” He calls.

“Hmm?”

“You know you’re adorable, right?”

“Shhhut up…” Peter whines.

Tony snorts. He hasn’t released Peter even if he might have loosened his grip a bit.

“Come on,” the man instructs. Peter almost thinks they’re going back in the lab, but they’re going the other way.

At first, Peter thinks it’s his room. And he doesn’t want Tony to leave him alone in there. Not yet. But Tony knows, so they go to the latter’s room instead. To Tony’s huge bed.

“Wait… what about your work, Mr. Stark?” Peter remembers.

“It can wait. You’re my top priority right now.”

Peter blushes. “Oh.”

Tony’s bed feels like paradise. It’s so comfortable.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Of course, Peter.”

This last morning was so cold and lonely. The whole apartment was empty and depressing to be in. And now, Peter is warm again.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah?”

…

“I love you…”

Peter is rather sleepy, so he doesn’t have to worry about these words until later.

He does faintly get to hear the response.

“I love you too, buddy.”

And just that is enough for Peter to fall asleep in peace.

[whumpy-vibes]

D-Day (2015) Whump List

Where to watch: Viki Rakuten

Genre: Drama, Medical, Romance

Whumpee: Lee Hae Sung

Note: This is my very first whump list! I discovered the whump community about a year ago and I decided to finally make a list. I love this kdrama and have rewatched it multiple times but have never heard anyone talk about it on here. Which is pretty sad, since it is so whump-heavy. Plus the romance isn't very prominent and the drama mainly focuses on the disaster aspect. This list may not be perfect and I may have over-described some things so if you guys have any advice on how I can make my lists better, feel free to let me know! And I would just like to thank @simply-whump and @love-me-a-lotta-whump as you two inspired me to make this list in the first place.

Episode 1: exhausted from performing surgery for a long time, building partially collapsed on him, covered in ash, caught in explosion.

Episode 2: exhausted, falls asleep on bench of firetruck, argument with brother, emotional, flashback to aftermath of car accident (severely injured, loved ones worried for him, mourning father’s death), breathing and sweating heavily from preforming CPR X2, blood splatters in face, exhausted, falls asleep against patients bed X3 (I swear this man can fall asleep anywhere), getting hit (jokingly), in earthquake.

Episode 3: knocked out, in shock, covered in ash, right next to an explosion X2, worried for loved one, hit in the arm with metal pole, gets stitches without anesthesia and pretends it doesn’t hurt, sucks out baby juice out of baby to save it, carries mother on back, watches people go into collapsing building without being able to save them.

Episode 4: Covered in more ash, in shock, tries to save people but fails, in denial, mentally unstable, PTSD symptoms, flashback to building colapse and hand reaching out, mental breakdown/emotional outburst, crying, begs on knees for hospital to take patients in, flashback to the car accident that killed his father and put his mother in a coma.

Episode 5 drinks canned coffee instead of eating food, stressed, hands shaking, sweating, hands shaking

Episode 6 motorcycle jumps over broken bridge and crashes, metal punctures chest, doesn’t take care of injury, uses tissues and tap to fix ingury, hears voices of dead patients, flashback to people dying again, hit on the head with wood, in physical fight, crying, faints, carried into hospital on stretcher, others worried for him, receives medical care

Episode 7 people worried for him, carried into hospital/emergency room on stretcher, unconscious, stitches, hit by a door opening, trips and falls, flashback to after car crash, crying, flash back to people dying, sleep deprived, exhausted, cold symptoms, insomnia, flashbacks about earthquake,

Episode 8 insomnia, hurts arm in middle of surgery during mini earthquake/aftershock, exhausted

Episode 9 exhausted from performing CPR a long time, falls asleep against patient bed, falls in mud

Episode 10 PTSD symptoms, hands shaking, breathing heavily, voice shaking/stuttering

Episode 11: PTSD symptoms, flashback, heavy breathing, hands shaking, stumbling/can’t walk straight, trouble breathing, people concerned for him, hallucinating, blood splatters in face, crying, getting hit and blamed for patient death

Episode 12: blaming himself for patient dying, crying, depressed, crying

Episode 13: Punched, lip bleeding, falls asleep in chair, hands shaking, breathing heavily, PTSD symptoms, punches wall, bloody knuckles, others worried for him

Episode 14: Blood splatters over face, exhausted

Episode 15: concerned for mother

Episode 16: running fever, hooked up to iv

Episode 17: none

Episode 18: preforms entire surgery with fever, faints and falls, high fever, faints again, in hospital bed, given sedative to sleep, rips iv out, finds out about brothers death, in denial, crying, mourning

Episode 19: crying

Episode 20: gets pushed and falls, watches brother’s last moments, crying

[pinesfamilyguidetotheweird]

Gravity Falls Thoughts: Ford and Trauma™ Part 2 (Forced Insomnia)

Annnnnd here we are with Part 2 of Ford and Trauma™!

Last time, we tackled the likelihood of Ford living off of pills and coffee over the last 30 years. So, what’s the logical next part?

Perhaps one of the most popular Ford ships out there!

Ford x Sleeeeep!!!!

Or…his problems with it. Let’s go with that.

If Gravity Falls went a bit longer (like if it had 3 seasons), this could have been a running gag of sorts for Ford, his lack of sleep or at least the repercussions of said lack of sleep, such as him dozing off in weird places.

And you can blame a certain dream demon for that.

Not long after Ford learns of Bill’s true colors, Ford did anything he could to prevent Bill from having any control of the situation…that includes depriving himself of sleep due to his deal with Bill.

…Yeah…um…there is a glaring issue on that plan, I must say. And that is the fact that depriving yourself of sleep…will not be beneficial in the long run.

According to Healthline, there are 5 Sleep Deprivation Stages, each stage is determined by the many hours of no sleep.

Stage 01 is after 24 hours of no sleep. A personal fact here, y’all: I’ve done this before twice in my life, staying up for about 24 hours…it was not fun both times.

While not necessarily a cause for major problems, there will be some issues, such as decreased alertness, drowsiness, fatigue, increased risks of mistakes…

Stage 02, after 36 hours (A day and a half), and you’ll start experiencing severe cognitive impairment. Not to mention an overwhelming desire for sleep and the likelihood of having microsleeps (short bouts of sleep that lasts for about 30 secs) is possible.

Come Stage 03 (after 48 hours) and hoooo…boy, things aren’t lookin’ good at all! This is where hallucinations can start setting in. Which, in Ford’s paranoid case, is a definite cause for concern. And there’s depersonalization, anxiety, heightened stress levels, increased irritability, and extreme fatigue. Microsleeps becomes more of a guarantee. And you won't realize it.

At Stage 04 (after 72 hours), along with more frequent and longer microsleeps, the hallucinations could get more complex.

Then finally, at Stage 05 (after 96 hours and more), you’ll start to experience a little thing called sleep deprivation psychosis, when your perception of reality is severely distorted due to lack of sleep.

So…not much of a shock to see this…

And we don’t even know how long Ford had been trying to keep himself awake. Even Journal 3 (I have the regular edition) doesn’t provide the answer for this except for the mad scrawlings of CAN’T SLEEP and the hellish amount of coffee he drank.

This can also explain his insistence on preserving his journals instead of just destroying them. He’s not thinking clearly due to lack of sleep.

It is possible to recover from this, though, it will take a while.

It can take days or weeks to recover from a bout of sleep deprivation. Just 1 hour of sleep loss requires 4 days to recover. The longer you’ve been awake, the longer it will take to get back on track.

And considering that Ford got sucked into the Portal before he could have a moment for well deserved rest…kind of a similar situation to his crap diet while on the run, how often was Ford able to get a full night's rest? I mean...look how he sleeps now, in day wear with his coat, glasses, and boots on, like he has to be prepared to book it...

It’s honestly a wonder that Ford came back to our dimension without sporting some eyebags that would give Shouta Aizawa (or even Toshinori Yagi) a run for his money.

…Question: So, Bill had free reign of entering Ford’s mind when he sleeps, right? Did Bill still do that during Ford’s travels up until he got that plate installed?

...So, what should I talk about next? The bullying Ford had to endure? Father of the Year, Filbrick Pines? Possible complex PTSD? Major Guilt? Wounds and potential complications? Bill -fucking- Cipher and the abuse?

[spocks-husband]

wordless, wordless.

This is my Star Trek Gift Exchange piece for @idealisticcatastasis!! I really hope you enjoy :")

Words: 1,142

Pairing: Garak/Bashir

Genre/Tropes: Fluff, Slow Dancing, Late-Night Conversations

Summary: Garak has some... interesting dreams.

@startrekwintergiftexchange (am i supposed to tag you guys?? i don't remember lmao)

The Promenade's humming evening silence was closer to eerie than soothing, but Julian paid it little mind as he walked, his hands clasped tightly behind his back and his eyes firmly fixed upon the windows of the station. Logically speaking, Julian knew that the vacuum of Bajoran space was just the same as it always was, that their system of station time was merely devised to give species in need of a consistent sleep schedule some semblance of normalcy-- but quietly, he liked to think that it grew darker this time of 'night', that the stars were just a bit brighter against a contrasting black abyss. 

Since the war had ended the station itself had begun to feel... smaller. There was nothing to do anymore. One would think that being the center of some of the most significant events of this century would make Deep Space Nine a rather popular place to visit, but at least to Julian, it seemed like there were less people every day. 

Miles had gone back to Earth for his academy job and taken his family with him, Captain Sisko was... somewhere with the wormhole aliens, Kira was spending more and more time on her home planet and away from her command post (and when she was back with them there was always a vague sadness in her eyes that Julian fought the urge to ask about. He knew she didn't really want to talk about Odo)-- everything felt... empty, somehow. 

"Doctor? You're up rather late."

Well...

Almost everything. 

Julian smiled softly as he turned around to see that familiar smirk standing several meters away. 

"I could say the same thing about you, Garak," the doctor retorted, taking a few steps until he was close enough to see the way the starlight was glimmering in the Cardassian's blue eyes. There was a moment of stillness that sat between them, a stillness that the two of them often found to linger in their company, but it wasn't paid any mind. If anything, it was welcome. 

"You should know by now that Cardassian sleep schedules are far from identical to those of humans, Doctor" the older man chuckled, his steps falling in a natural sync with Julian's as they began to walk. 

"Then maybe I have you to blame for my current bout of insomnia," Julian joked accusingly. "You're rubbing off on me." 

"Perhaps I am," Garak mused with a slight smile, glancing out the windows for a brief moment. "... Perhaps I could say the same about you." 

"Oh, really?" Julan smirked. 

"Oh, yes, indeed," Garak hummed. "In fact... I've begun dreaming." 

"Dreaming?"

"It's not typical for Cardassians to dream. Not consistently, anyway. Once in a while, sure, but not every night." There was a glimmer of regret shining in his eyes, suddenly, as if he were almost... embarrassed... that he'd brought it up. 

"And what might you be dreaming about?" The doctor asked slowly, his grin widening just slightly. 

"Oh, I can't tell you-- that's highly classified information, my dear doctor," Garak smirked. 

"Oh, of course," Julian nodded in mock seriousness. "I understand completely." 

For a while, there was a silence that returned between the two of them, and Julian couldn't help but consider how... nice... it was. Pleasant, even. 

"Though, there has been a recurring figure in these... dreams of mine," Garak added suddenly, his gaze fixed on everything except for the man at his side. Julian quirked a brow. 

"Oh?" The doctor couldn't help but chuckle. "And... who might this person be?" 

Garak fought the urge to smile. "Oh, I'm not certain," he lied. "I can't ever see him very well, the lights are too dim."

"Then how can you know it's the same man?"

"I just know." 

The silence returned, temporarily. It didn't stay, though-- it never did. 

"Well, what has this man been doing?" Julian snorted, looking up at Garak with a curious smirk. Garak smiled back. 

"Dancing." 

Julian laughed. "Really? Dancing?"  

"Oh, yes," Garak nodded, crossing his arms. "You don't have to believe me if you don't want to." 

"Hm," Julian chuckled. "Well... why don't you show me?" 

Garak raised an eyebrow slowly, his eyes locking with Julian's in a way that made the doctor's heart skip a beat as a smirk rose to his face. Without a word, the Cardassian extended a clawed hand toward Julian, a silent invitation that spoke entirely for itself. The doctor hesitated for just a moment, a playful glint in his eyes, before finally placing his hand in Garak's.

The Promenade's ambient lighting seemed to dim ever so slightly as Garak led Julian to a more open area, away from the occasional midnight passersby and their prying eyes. Garak placed his other hand firmly on Julian's waist, and the doctor's breath caught at the unexpected warmth of the touch. Garak's hands had always seemed so cold to him, but... not tonight. 

"There's no music here, you know," Julian spoke softly, his eyes remaining low as he tried to hide how flushed his cheeks had become. "I didn't necessarily mean... here... and now..." Garak only chuckled. 

"I'm sorry, Doctor, would you like me to stop?"

There was a pause. 

"... No," Julian said finally. "I... don't believe I would."

They began to sway gently, the dance unfolding organically between them. Julian felt a mixture of exhilaration and contentment, realizing that this was a moment he had secretly yearned for. As they moved gracefully together, the silence spoke volumes, filling the empty spaces that the war had left behind.

"You know, Doctor," Garak began, his voice low and intimate, almost careful. "I must confess that dancing was never my forte back on Cardassia. But there's something about this place, this station, that makes everything different."

Julian chuckled, his eyes locked with Garak's. "Maybe it's the stars. Or maybe it's the company."

Garak's gaze softened, and a warmth spread across his features. "Perhaps it's a bit of both," he admitted.

The two continued their dance, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. In the quiet intimacy of the Promenade, surrounded by the hum of the station and the distant twinkling of stars, the boundaries between them blurred. It wasn't just a dance; it was a moment of connection, a shared understanding that went beyond words. There were no more games of riddles and teasing, no subtleties or avoidance. Whatever it was that they were, something they'd always struggled to name... they were here. They were together. Perhaps that was enough. 

As they twirled gracefully, Julian couldn't help but feel a sense of completion. The emptiness that had lingered since the war's end seemed to dissipate with every step. It was warmer here, somehow. 

"Garak...?" 

The Cardassian shook his head slowly. 

"Just let it be, Doctor. I think that might be the best thing to do." 

Julian smiled softly. 

"... If you say so."

[theeccentricraven]

My Writing Journey

I'm still writing my NaNoWriMo Novel in late March, with April right around the corner. Almost 200,000 words now.

How did I get here?

I chose to be a writer when I was eleven. By the time I was eighteen, I had three incomplete novels, a thick packet of writing notes, and a long list of story ideas I wanted to write before I died. I also had a short attention span that I can blame on my ADHD and ASD, a declining love for reading due to required school reading, and competition with distractions like the internet/social media. I was able to devote a good deal of my spare time on my prize WIP, a unique fantasy titled The Keeper of Maralla. I didn't spend as much time writing as I should have. My writing confidence was low. After I earned my first bachelor's degree in Child Development, several amazing things happened. First, I worked briefly as a custodian (aka janitor or caretaker depending on what part of the world you're in) when I got the idea for my current primary WIP, The Blood Cleaners. At that time, I thought TBC would be an urban fantasy. A few years later, I realized the story worked best as a post-apocalyptic dystopia. I personally feel that you don’t find the stories; the stories find you. Such was the case with TBC. Then, in 2008, I won my first NaNoWriMo when I wrote the first draft of The Star House Club, an MG/YA urban fantasy. It meant the world to me when I finally had a complete novel in my hands, even if the writing was really bad. My next complete novel was finished in 2009, a Christian historical fiction novel called Miriam and Yosef. Then, from 2010 to 2011, I wrote my first really long novel, my sci-fi first contact story called Columbus Day. It was 170,000 words long! The best part was when I wrote my first complete second draft by rewriting Columbus Day. I saw how rewriting really can make things better, even if only a little better. It was also at this time that I earned my second bachelor's degree. I earned my post-baccalaureate degree in English. Then, things kind of shattered. I lost all of my confidence in my writing. I almost gave up completely. I also stopped reading. I've learned that the less you read, the worse your writing is. I went nearly a decade without reading and writing. There were some pluses that happened during that time, such as getting a technical writing job with my current employer. For the most part, I had little ambition and few goals. That was until early 2023, I experienced some epiphanies. I went through some religious/spiritual experiences that allowed me to realize I was meant to be a writer. I needed to get my ideas down on paper before I died or else the world would never know them. I opened up my old writing notes to get to work. I thought about which of my WIP's I would make my primary WIP. It was hard when I felt passionate about a half dozen of them, knowing I would regret failing to finish and publish either. I was hit hard with reality when insomnia hit me. I had been in denial about my need to read. Just as I had to get back to writing, I had to get back to reading. I wanted to say I had read enough and needed to spend time writing. When I discovered reading was the best medicine for insomnia, I realized what I needed to do for both my physical health and writing health. I read about 15 books in 2023. The more I read, the better my writing got. My best read was Scott Westerfeld’s Uglies, a book that reminded me of why I love the dystopia genre. By July, I made the decision to focus on The Blood Cleaners. I spent four months brainstorming and outlining. I began drafting in November for NaNoWriMo. I wrote 50,000 words in 30 days, but the story wasn't over. That brings me to where I am now. My manuscript is almost 200,000 words long. I hope to finish in the next few days. I can’t wait to rewrite and cut this thing. Writing is hard, but it's worth it. My journey isn't over, obviously. I can’t wait to see where this journey goes.

[floralcavern]

Writing the Go For A Punch characters

This anime concept has not been able to leave my mind and I’m hyperfixating on the potential and the possible characters that could be in this fake anime, so here we are.

T/W for suicide

Plot:

6 girls wake up in a bathroom with no exit. There are 5 stalls, each without a door. There’s a school announcement speaker in the bathroom and a vent really high up, but other than that, there was nothing. They still had their school bags filled with their stuff. The girls all slowly go insane, mental breakdowns and suicide taking hold of them.

Saki -

We all know her from the fake screenshots and fanart. Saki is quiet but a smart girl and a great problem solver. She has bad insomnia, which means she’s up practically every night in this hell hole. Saki is the one who tries to keep everyone calm using facts and logic. She had come up with a plan to try and created a hole in the wall for them to escape, chipping away at it every night, since she can’t sleep. She didn’t know any of the girls before being trapped here, having been a brand new transfer student. She was the ‘final girl’ after Junko died. She made sure everyone kept up with their strict rationing of their snacks and lunch boxes, even coming up with the idea that they may have to eat their shoes, or even their clothes. She had a mental breakdown after Junko had died, realizing now she was all alone, with no one there. This was the first time she had cried during their time trapped there. 

Kana -

Kana has long, braided strawberry blonde hair with a pretty red ribbon keeping it tied up. She was the popular girl at their school and was set to have a bright future, inheriting her family’s fortune. She attempted to act high and mighty, throwing fits. After Junko put her in her place, that night, she had an awful nightmare, the next day she sat in place the entire time, her ribbon no longer tied in her hair. Yui came over to check on her, and Kana shows her the ribbon, now tied into a small noose. The next day, the girls had found that Kana strangled herself with the ribbon. They put her body in one of the stalls, though it still haunted them, as there are no doors on the stalls, meaning they still saw her body.

Naoko -

Naoko has short, bobbed black hair. She is very sensitive and quick to tears. She is terrified of the situation, the only one who she feels she can open up to being Yui. She was severely bullied in school, having no friends. She had many sleepless nights sobbing, and after Kana’s death, she felt absolutely miserable, feeling like all hope was lost. She told Yui she wanted to end it all, but was too cowardly. Eventually, she asked Yui to drown her in the sink, telling her that no matter how much she may struggle, do not release her until she is dead. She asks Yui to do this since she is the only one Naoko considers a true friend here. Yui eventually succumbed to Naoko’s requests and put her body in another doorless stall.

Yui -

Yui has long, brown hair in a big bun. She is the happy one of the group who kept mostly everyone sane with her cheerful attitude. She was the third to die. She blamed herself for Kana’s death already, feeling like she wasn’t able to keep things happy enough for Kana to not want to kill herself. And after losing Naoko, her best friend, she didn’t know what to do. That’s when reality really set in, as she had to kill her with her own hands. She started thinking about her family and how she would never see her parents again. She had a mental breakdown, and despite the girls trying to calm her down, they failed, and Yui died by bashing her head into the same sink Naoko drowned in. She was put in the same stall as Naoko, the others knowing it would’ve been what she wanted.

Yume -

Yume had bushy red hair kept in an out of control ponytail. She had been very low maintenance this entire time. She came from a very poor family and was used to living in times of horrible desperation and starvation. She was the only who came up with the idea to eat the corpses of the girls who had died, saying that shoes aren’t very nutritious to keep them alive. Yume was the fourth one to die. She and Kana did not get along and Yume was rather happy to see her gone, saying that “the spoiled brat had no idea how to survive in these circumstances.” She also resented Saki, saying that she should be the leader, not Saki. But she started to go a little crazy as well. She was fully convinced she was going to survive this and she was the most capable of everyone there to be in this situation. After a huge, bloody fight with Junko, Junko killed her by strangulation as means of self defense, since Yume had full intent to kill her. Her body went into another doorless stall. 

Junko -

Junko had black hair in a very messy cut, like she cut her own hair with kitchen scissors, which is kept in a half up ponytail. She was the fifth and final one to die. Junko was the delinquent girl, aggressive and not afraid to stand her ground and be blunt. She was the daughter of a yakuza boss and understood dangerous situations. She believed Saki to be the best leader, since she was the most level headed out of all of them. Junko acted as her right hand in decision making. But after the two were the last to die, Junko didn’t know what to do. She told Saki they should eat the girls as a way to be able to keep living, since their backpacks were all running out of snacks. Saki refused to eat anyone, saying it would destroy her humanity, and Junko decided she wouldn’t either. One day Junko managed to get Saki to fall asleep, but Junko didn’t wake up, dying from starvation, having hidden her thinned stomach under her thick school sweater. 

[hallothere]

oh oh one last one, have you put Meneldir in the plinko yet? would highly recommend. how about uhhhh, is 6 (Guilt/Blame) too on the nose for him? maybe 28 (Exhaustion/Insomnia) if you've already gotten the other one

6. Guilt/Blame 28. Exhaustion/Insomnia

"'S my fault."

"It's not. People can steal cattle without you. I swear, Mennie, you don't know how to say a lot else do you?"

"...Don't call me that."

"Stop acting like a child and I might."

"Mmm."

"There you go again. Use your words."

Narndir sighed. His friend could barely sit upright but still refused to sleep. Meneldir looked several days without rest as well, and likely didn't realize he had half a wheat field in his hair. But that was something he'd always admired about Meneldir. He cared too much.

"You need to eat. You can't chase cattle thieves if you don't eat." He had some dry rations, but soup would do better on a night like this. Something hearty, warm, it would lull his stubborn friend straight to sleep.

"Caught them." Meneldir grunted. "Herne jailhouse."

Narndir rolled his eyes. "Of course you did. Did you scare the guards at the jailhouse too? Appear from the shadows and say something witty? Or had you been on your feet too long?" He found the soup pot among his things and went to get the fire started again. "Probably scared the daylights out of them either way. A cloaked figure, a gravely voice, some utter gibberish they're already too frightened to try and make sense of-"

A snore.

Narndir turned to find his friend slumped over on the bedroll, propped up by his satchel. Shaking his head, he got up to fetch one of his blankets. The camp could house two tonight. Meneldir needed a good night's sleep just as badly as he needed a friend.

[kodiescove]

I still think it's fucked up that I told my one prescriber I was an insomniac, had been my whole life, and was using Marijuana to sleep and she tried to blame Marijuana on my insomnia, and refused to give me sleeping medications.

I explained that situation to the next prescriber by the same company.

By that point I had been prescribed trazadone by Brylin, but I hadn't created a routine yet, and it didnt/does not help with my body's whole "I don't feel tired" thing. So I was still relying on Marijuana at the time, but not nearly as much.

The company diagnosed me with severe substance abuse disorder.

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

Have you ever been to therapy? Any tips on how to find a therapist who isn't a misogynist/trapped in the fucking 1950's?

I am traumatized by female therapists and social workers.... the invalidation, the gaslighting, and the blaming.... they remind me of my damn mother; denying male violence, and viewing me, a woman traumatized by male violence to the point I have alchohol use disorder, ptsd, severe insomnia, ocd, adhd, anxiety, sucidial feelings, sex repulsion, etc, as inferior and as a joke and judge me for being single and not having a bf, no empathy for my pain.

I am breaking up with a current therapist, and I know folks say therapy isn't needed... but I need brainspotting or emdr... I don't sleep and am severely suicidal and scared of people. I need therapy, and feel re-traumatized by my therapis.

my father sexually abused me for 20 years and prevented me from experiencing romantic love.

she would ignore me and read while I was talking, until I said "I am sad I did not experience romantic love." she said it could happen at any age.

when I described limerence and romantic obsession (over a boy I was trying to date in secret, but didn't work out because I was my father's property in his mind and he was threatening to take and send nude photos of me to him.. I was 15, the boy I was dating was 15....) I told her I would imagine we had worked out, and she expressed she thought it was healthy I was fantasizing about this

basically, my trauma to her is attention seeking, and wasn't that bad, I talk too much, and just need a bf. I have experienced suicidal ideation over this therapist, and am scared to seek therapy again.

I myself want to be a therapist, because most therapists are misogynists and I really wanted to be the one who wasn't. I feel haunted

Hi anon,

This sounds really hard, and I’m so sorry you’re going through it all. It sounds like you should definitely stop seeing this therapist, since she isn’t helping and is in fact making you feel worse. Well done for making the decision to disentangle yourself from a situation that is harmful to you, and well done for all you’ve done so far. It’s really admirable that you’re considering entering a field that’s harmed you in order to help others (though don’t feel pressured to commit to that plan if you begin to feel differently).

I don’t feel able to give you specific advice about finding a new therapist, particularly since I don’t know whereabouts in the world you are (and please don’t feel any pressure to share that information) so I don’t know how the system works near you. What I would recommend, if you can manage it yourself or have someone help you, is to establish your boundaries up front when contacting new options, and trust your judgement of their response. If you make it clear up front that you have certain requirements and expectations from therapy - bearing in mind that you should have the power in that relationship, since they are there to help you - and get push back or mistreatment up front, then don’t waste any more of your time with that therapist, just move on to the next. Maybe you could send the same initial email out to multiple people, and then read through and consider the responses as they come in? And if any get through that stage, you can treat the first appointment as another screen, and end the arrangement at any time if you feel it’s necessary. You’re looking for a professional to provide you a service - if you wouldn’t accept a shoddy plumber or builder, you shouldn’t accept a shoddy therapist. Well done again for putting your foot down on the current one.

With regard to finding a list of potentials, maybe see if you can find any recommendations, or consider contacting a local women’s charity to see if they have any preferred options. I’m going to open this to the community and ask them to weigh in with advice and recommendations as well - I hope that’s ok. Radblr women, please interact if you have any knowledge or experience to share.

In terms of the immediate short term - please stick around, and please reach out for help from those who can provide it to you directly, whether that be professional or personal connections. With regard to commencing therapy with a new therapist - take your time, and have faith in yourself to know what’s best for you. You can do anything you set your mind to. Good luck xx

[dustyoo10]

Very tired and I can't sleep, this thought is stuck in my head and normally I just bottle it up and let it fester but I have an outlet now where I can talk about these sort of things, so might as well. Hopefully it'll help me sleep.

Warning for discussions about death and some pretty serious stuff:

In 2022 I lost my cat Bailey. This was easily the most painful time in my life, and it was my first real experience with loss. I had lost relatives before, pets too, but never like this. It was about 2 months of excruciating pain and anxiety.

We would let her out and she would usually hang in the backyard or front yard. She loved to sunbathe. Part of me blames my dad for her death but I feel any one of us could have made this mistake, I still struggle with it. I should have looked, too. He didn't check to see if she was inside when he set out her dinner. She was stuck out there all night during a heatwave.

When I woke up in the morning and noticed she wasn't inside, I tried to see if she was outside, I found her at the side of the house on the hot concrete, barely awake. She was struggling to breathe and her skin was loose and saggy. I picked her up and brought her inside and told my dad something was wrong with her. He insisted she was fine and that her raspy breathing was actually "purring". She could hardly move. I woke my mom and told her what was happening, and I had to convince her to take her to the emergency vet. It felt like no one saw she was dying except me.

After a checkup and some shots she appeared to be doing better, I believe they said it was dehydration. I had stayed up all night and I stayed up even longer watching her. That's what hurts the most. I was awake during the night when she was out there on her own.

Regardless, this marked a complete turn in her health. She was in good shape for 14, but that drastically fell after that day. I didn't go to our family reunion so that I could watch after her. Honestly, I don't know how my family was fine with her being alone for several days whilst dying. Even if I didn't care for her as much as I did, I wouldn't leave anyone like that.

I struggled to get her to eat anything other than sips of tuna water, and it seemed like she never slept. She couldn't, she was too weak. I couldn't sleep either. I've always had bad insomnia, but this was much worse.

A few weeks later I convinced my mom to take her to the vets again. I was adamant that if we just took her to the vets they could fix her, even though a part of me deep down knew that wasn't true. The morning we were supposed to go I was in the restroom when I noticed that I didn't feel anything in my chest. my heart wasn't beating. I had a vasovagal response, it's when your blood pressure drops rapidly due to immense anxiety, which had never happened to me before. It was a good minute before I nearly collapsed downstairs. I was pale and struggling to breathe while my mom was trying to help me recover.

The vet ended up being closed that day, and we only learned whilst we were in the car with Bailey, who was extremely distressed. I think it was a good thing. If they were open it would've served no more than to prolong the inevitable and to keep her suffering. There was no fix for this. I believe she had air in her lungs, from the post-mortem scan. Some sort of cancer or disease she had from being a barn kitten. So there really was nothing we could do. Well, there was something I could do.

When we got back home I sat and thought, and I decided to take initiative for once rather than waiting for something to happen, or hoping some miracle would fall down from the sky. I went to my mom and told her she needed to be euthanized while tearing up. My mom didn't say it, but she already knew this. She went along with my idea that something could help her so as to not upset me. At the vet she'd either have been euthanized there, or told that she doesn't have long regardless.

She called a mobile vet so that she could be put to sleep her at home. We brought her out to the deck for the last time, and I sat with her, constantly wiping snot from my nose, and trying my best to enjoy that last moment with her. At this point she was falling apart, she could hardly keep herself concious.

The vet came and put her to sleep. When the syringe went it she bit down on my hand, leaving a mark that's still there. Then her eyes just sort of glazed and she began to drift. She couldn't get the euthanasia needle into the right spot in our house, so she took Bailey to her RV and did it there. She let us come see her one last time and I regret that. I put my ear on her chest and felt nothing, so I left really quickly after that. My mom came over to me while Bailey was leaving our driveway to be cremated and hugged me, and I started sobbing while she held me.

I went inside, got in the shower, curled up and started crying harder than I ever had in my life. I wasn't good enough to her, there was a lot of things i didn't do right, and that was the first day in my 19 years of life that it truly dawned on me that people will die. You don't get an infinite amount of time to make up for your mistakes, and you don't get infinite time with them.

In a way it was both sad and relieving. She was in pain for so long. Now she could finally sleep, and so could I. I no longer had to worry about waking up and finding her dead, or laying in bed restless because I didn't want to leave her alone. She died on September 6th, 2022.

Over a month later, I got B.B. after much convincing from my mom. Bailey was originally my sister's cat, but my mom ended up taking responsibilities for her since my sister was only 14, although i had to convince her that I was older and more responsible. I had lived the majority of my life with a cat, and a part of it was just empty without her. B.B. wasn't meant to fill that hole in my heart that Bailey left, but to give me something else to love, and this time I would do everything right.

Apologies for anyone who didn't want to read something like this.