#forgetting or dreading the idea of swallowing pills so bad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

softmafia · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! I wasn't sure if your asks where open, so of they're not feel free to ignore! I was wondering if maybe you could do a scenario where hisoka finds out that he's gonna be a dad, but like he freaks out? Like he just never expected it to happen to him, so he runs off? Maybe later on he ends up stalking the s/o and like has a little change of heart when he sees how big she's gotten? Idk I just think the idea of a sentimental hisoka is so cute 😭❤ thank you 🥺❤

This is so wholesome!! I love it!!

A bit of Normalcy

Hisoka finds out he’s going to be a dad, but is he really ready for that pressure?

Warnings: fem afab reader, pregnancy, nsfw themes(Hisoka being Hisoka), arguments, slightly OOC Hisoka(like most of my fics *sigh*)

Y/n sighed and placed the positive reading pregnancy test on the kitchen sink, her brows furrowing as she stared into the drain, afraid to look at herself in the mirror. Her mind raced with thoughts, this was a serious dilemma and she could only blame herself. Y/n knew how Hisoka could be, she shouldn’t have taken herself off of that pill, even for one night. After a moment of self loathing, she collected herself and swept the test into the trash, forgetting to at least cover it.

The day went on and so did she, she wasn’t going to let something like this bother her, she pushed it to the back of her mind and just let it fester as she figured out what to do with herself. Hisoka always talked about having children with her, well, getting her pregnant. She figured it was just one of his many, many, fetishes. He couldn’t possibly want to settle down and have kids with her, right? “Hey, baby!!” Y/n called from the living room, “One of your shows is on.. hurry you might miss it!” She called, seeing the cheesy intro of the romantic soap opera play on the screen. Hisoka stood behind her, almost making her squeak as he caught her by surprise. He had a somber expression but it was soft.

“You ok, hun?” Y/n placed a hand on Hisoka’s cheek, to which he gently held her wrist close to himself. He kissed the back of her hand and put her palm over his heart, “Sweetheart.. have you been hiding anything from me?” He spoke soft and kind, a tone he only used with her, when he wasn’t subjecting her to taboo, horrific torture, that is. Y/n scanned through bits of her memory, retracing her steps of the day in her mind. Forgetting one crucial detail, she shrugged and gave him a confused look, “No?” Her face soon dropped when Hisoka showed her the once discarded pregnancy test, Y/n panicked, “Ok I know what this looks like.. but it’s kind of your fault!” She pressed, soon swallowing her words quickly, “Wait, sorry.. I take it back, but I mean, you don’t like wearing condoms in the first place! You can’t expect me to remember to take my pills!”

Hisoka stifled amused laughter, “Aw, my darling Y/n~ Don’t treat this as such a bad thing~! I’m happy for us~!” He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tightly, he kissed her cheek, “Soon we’ll have so many mini-me’s running around the house~” his phrase made Y/n’s worries increase, she chewed on her bottom lip anxiously. “Well.. come on, think reasonably, children are very very expensive, it costs over a million just to even have one!” She quickly stammered, Hisoka placed a finger against her lips, and nuzzled his nose against hers, “We’re hunters, remember~? And besides you pawned your license, we’ll have enough, sweetie~”

Y/n exhaled, looking at the ground, Hisoka’s happiness calmed her nerves slightly, but she was still on edge, “If you really want to keep it, I guess I could try. But only this once!” She put her hands on his shoulders, then cupped his face to place a kiss on his lips. Hisoka beamed, he wanted to cry tears of joy but he never cried before so he couldn’t muster the feeling. However, soon after Y/n left the room, a sense of dread washed over him, did he really want this? Or was this just his imagination talking? In his shows he had seen happy couples with one or two children, he always dreamed about that life but realistically speaking; it was never bound to work. Hisoka began to think for the worst but he didn’t say anything.

Later that night Hisoka had left, leaving nothing but a joker’s card laid on the pillow beside of Y/n. He left for weeks, had gotten a new phone, and made no contact with Y/n. Hisoka knew the family life wasn’t for people like him so why did he even try? He needed to move on and focus on killings, and his fight with Chrollo, the satisfaction of the battle and ending somebody’s life will be enough for him. But he couldn’t get images of Y/n out of his mind, imagining her in a hospital bed holding his child. He clamped his fist, nails dug into his palms.

Y/n was furious when Hisoka started to ignore his calls, it was bad enough he just upped and left, but right after he found out she was pregnant? With his kid?! Her first instinct was to just get an abortion, but she sighed and calmed herself, knowing how Hisoka was. She knew he’d come back, and if he didn’t, she would find wherever he was staying and leave the baby on his doorstep. Currently she was 3 weeks pregnant, but her belly was huge and she felt incredibly heavy. Her cravings were intense, she cursed at Hisoka for leaving as she crammed the sour cream and onion chips into her mouth.

Just one more time.. I want to see her again.. A bead of sweat formed on Hisoka’s forehead as he peered through the window of his former house, remaining unnoticed as he watched Y/n on the couch. His eyes glimmered as he saw how huge she had gotten, even after just a few weeks. Knowing they were his children, he knew they were going to be strong, which prompted him to stay a little more and watch her through the window. Shamefully, his gaze shifted to her chest that he oh-so missed, his mouth watered and he was star stuck.

His ogling was halted when a remote came crashing through the window, catching him by surprise as Y/n dragged him inside by his collar, her fist reeled back and her eyes lit with fury. Hisoka understood her anger and pitied her, allowing himself to go limp in her grasp. “Hisoka.” She growled, “You better have a good reason for showing your face here again.”

He pursed his lips, “I understand what this might look like.. but Y/n, I’m sorry for leaving.” He was sincere, this change of attitude kind of scared Y/n as she dropped him and took a step back, her arms crossed over her chest, Hisoka spoke again, “I was starting to hesitate, and I was starting to get worried. But I realize now that, this is really what I want.” He grabbed Y/n’s face, she still looked mildly displeased at him, but he pulled her close anyways, “Please forgive me.”

Y/n pushed him away, “You’re bluffing!!” She shouted, being doubtful of his sudden soft attitude, “You can’t just leave after finding out I’m pregnant, then come back and try to deceive me, for whatever reason. I’m not an idiot, Morrow! I’m not one of your toys!” Her words stung him in his chest, was this what she thought of him all of this time? That he only thought of her as a silly toy, that he would ever think of deceiving and lying to her? He growled and stepped towards her, brows furrowed firmly, “If that’s what you really see me as then I’m starting to regret coming back to you.” He spoke with as much venom as she was. “You’re starting to regret?! I’m starting to regret even keeping this thing!! Look at how big I am!!” She yelled, “I won’t be surprised if it’s not even human, if it came out as some disgusting shriveled up monster I wouldn’t think twice!! Because you’re a monster!!”

“You call me a monster when you’re talking about my child in such a manner?!” Hisoka fumed, they both glared at each other with intense anger.

Y/n fought back, “You have terrible taste in TV shows!! I tried to sit through one of them and they’re a bland, boring, MESS!”

“You scream like a pig!!” Hisoka retorted, “Whenever we’re running from authorities I have to look around to make sure we haven’t ran into a farmyard!!”

Y/n gasped loudly, then recoiled and began to sniffle. Hisoka immediately felt pains in his heart, he never saw Y/n in such a state before, let alone crying, ever. He figured it was her wild mood-swings, he wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back and kissing her scalp, “Shh shh.. Y/n, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” He whispered, “But please, do believe me, I want to stay, I want to see my child.” Y/n wiped her face roughly, then scoffed, “Prove it.” She turned away from him as much as he could, still trapped in his tight hold.

Hisoka made her look up at him, lifting her chin, “Then let me, I can make things right. I won’t leave again, I promise~” he kissed her forehead, “And if I do, find me and drag me back home yourself, I’ll come to my senses~” he smiled and kissed her again, Y/n sighed and looked down at her stomach, placing a hand over it briefly, “Ok fine.. but if you leave again I’m tying you to the couch.” Hisoka laughed and pinched her cheeks to her disproval, remembering how cute it was when he would do this and she would whine.

His focus shifted to her belly, immediately placing his hands around it and gushing, “I never thought I would live to see this happen~!” He kissed the top of it, a blush creeping onto Y/n’s face, she covered her cheeks with her sleeve, “I thought it was just the distance, but you’re pretty big~” he couldn’t help but shiver in arousal. “Yeah.. I just hope it’s one huge baby and not multiples or something.” Y/n sighed, “I hope I don’t get any bigger, this really sucks.”

“Oh but I hope you do~” Hisoka licked his lips, his hand snaking around her waist to pinch a part of her ass between his fingers, “It’s kind of sexy~” Y/n groaned disgustedly and pushed him away, but couldn’t keep in her laughter, “You’re so gross!!” She giggled, but returned to his embrace, nuzzling his amazing pecs. Y/n would never admit it, yet, but she missed him while he was gone, almost afraid that he would never come back and she would have to put the child up for adoption.

“Oh, by the way.. the acting in my shows are way better than the obviously fake “fight scenes” in your movies~” Hisoka spoke into her hair, making her roll her eyes.

She sometimes missed him.

#hunter x hunter #hisoka morrow #hunter x 2011 #hxh hisoka #hisoka headcanons #hisoka morrow x reader #hxh #hxh imagines #hisoka x reader #hisoka x y/n

84 notes · View notes

jenanigans1207 · 4 years ago

Note

MatchaBlossom hc: Since Cherry's other arm is still injured, he trusts no one else but Joe to touch his hair and Joe helps him tie it up into a ponytail. Joe teases him about it, but he has this soft smile on his face the entire time.

Yes yes yes because this goes perfectly with my hc that Joe has to help Cherry wash his hair now, too! And I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!

—

They don’t talk about it. It’s one of those things that doesn’t really need to be talked about anyways, but they wouldn’t talk about it, even if they needed to.

Ever since Cherry’s injury, he’s been unable to return to work. In fact, until very recently, he’d been unable to leave the hospital. Well, what the doctors didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them and he was there every morning when they came to check on him again. What he did at night was a secret between him, Joe and the stars.

But now that he’d been officially released from the hospital and put (begrudgingly) under Joe’s care— the doctors refused to discharge him until they knew he had someone to look after him and there wasn’t anyone else he’d ever call for something like that— he spent even more time at Joe’s restaurant.

During the day he mostly stayed in his own apartment, pretending not to be home when people knocked on his door with well wishes and meals to help him recover. He honestly couldn’t even remember what excuse he’d given to the rest of the world for how he’d ended up in such a bad state. All he knew was that it definitely wasn’t the truth.

Not that it mattered, anyways. The truth was a story that Cherry would be happy to forget, happy to drown in a goddamn glass of wine if Joe would just give him one.

“Doctor’s orders.” Joe shrugged, placing a glass of water down in front of him, a small pill on the counter next to it. “No alcohol until you’re off your medication.”

“I’ll be fine—“

“Kaoru.” The use of his real name stops Cherry in his tracks and he grumbles, shooting Joe a venomous glare that Joe completely ignores.

“Fine.” Cherry finally relents, reaching forward for the pill with his only good arm. He places it on his tongue before taking the glass of water and swallowing both down. “Happy?”

Joe makes some dismissive gesture like he doesn’t care but it’s abundantly clear that he does. He stays stubbornly in his spot, staring at Cherry and making pointed looks at the remaining water in the glass. The doctor had said the medication needed to be taken with an entire glass of water. Figures the only time Joe would actually listen to instructions is when Cherry doesn’t want him to.

Just to get Joe off his back, Cherry downs the rest of the water in one go and sets the cup back down, purposely avoiding the smug smile on Joe’s lips. Instead he focuses his attention on his hair, reaching across his body to try and tuck some of it over his shoulder.

His hair has always been one of his favorite things and he’s never minded managing it before. But having one arm makes managing this much hair borderline impossible. He can barely manage to brush it all, the longer pieces on his injured side nearly out of his reach by the end. He’s managed to struggle through it but hasn’t been able to get it out of his face for nearly a week and was really dreading washing it again. At least at the hospital, the nurses had been kind enough to assist him in washing it and putting it up.

Absorbed in this, Cherry doesn’t even realize that Joe’s no longer standing across the counter from him. It’s not until he feels gentle fingers threading through his hair that he has any idea.

“What are you—“ He startles, turning as much as he can to find Joe standing behind him.

“I can’t put it up if you keep moving like that.” Joe replies, gently pressing on Cherry’s shoulder to face him forward again.

“I don’t need you to put it up.”

“Yes you do.” There’s no malice in it. It’s just a simple statement, an observation. It’s true, too, as much as Cherry hates it. “You need me.”

And that is the teasing Cherry had been expecting. “I absolutely do not. Don’t be so full of yourself.”

“No?” Joe drops the strands of Cherry’s hair that he’d been gathering. In the reflection of the glass cabinet on the other side of the bar, Cherry can see Joe holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, then. You do it.”

“You are insufferable.” Cherry replies, but he makes no moves because he already knows he can’t put his hair up on his own. He’d tried in the hospital.

“It wouldn’t kill you to admit you need me.”

“It might.” Cherry huffs. “It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

Joe laughs at that, completely unbothered, and then his fingers are in Cherry’s hair again, unbearably gentle as they gather the hair together into a ponytail that Cherry has been longing for. “Your pride will be the death of you, not me.”

“Your pride will be the death of both of us.” Cherry shoots back. He’s watching the scene unfold carefully in the cabinet, watching how much thought Joe puts into gathering and smoothing his hair, that tiny intimate smile on his lips the whole time.

That tiny smile that Cherry has only seen when they’re alone together. That tiny smile that Joe seems to reserve for him and him alone. The one that makes Cherry’s heart flip in his chest every time he sees it. And now he’s seeing it while Joe tends to him with more care than Cherry has ever seen him handle anything, teasing him the whole time. And now Cherry’s heart just aches.

“If it weren’t for me, your hair would just turn into a mess.” Joe says as he holds a hand out over Cherry’s shoulder. “It would just be a nest. Honestly, you owe me.”

It takes a second, but Cherry finally relents, holding his good hand up to expose the hair tie on his wrist that he knows Joe is asking for. Joe huffs out a quiet laugh under his breath as his fingers ghost over the sensitive skin on the inside of Cherry’s wrist, the rough edge of his fingertips just grazing Cherry’s already racing pulse. It takes everything in him not to shudder at the touch, not to let his eyes flutter closed.

The tension in the room seems to triple as Joe finishes tying Cherry’s hair up, his fingers moving deftly around the hair tie. Once he’s done, his fingers graze down the back of Cherry’s neck until his hand is cupping it, warm and strong and firm.

“There,” Joe finally says, his voice rough hewn around the edges. A little ragged, almost, breathless.

Cherry should say something back, should thank him, but the words are stuck somewhere around the lump in his throat. Instead he reaches up to brush his fingers against Joe’s, the most he can do. But he sees Joe’s small smile in the reflection and he knows that Joe feels it, somehow.

“It’s messy.” Cherry replies instead, the words nearly choked off. Joe rolls his eyes but squeezes his neck so Cherry knows that he understands the unspoken gratitude.

“I’m just working with what I’ve got.” Joe’s fingers slide off of Cherry’s neck finally, dancing across his shoulder as it goes. “Even Picasso couldn’t make a masterpiece out of shitty paints.”

Cherry makes an indignant sound, swinging an arm around but Joe is already out of his reach. “Shitty—?”

And just like that, everything is back to normal. Joe’s on the other side of the counter, back to whatever he’d been doing before, rambling on about Cherry being too blind to tell how he looks, despite all four of his eyes and Cherry is smiling despite himself, feeling a bit more normal for the first time in awhile.

#matcha blossom #matchablossom #okay idk if I did their bickering right #but this was soft #and I enjoyed writing it #I hope you enjoy it too!#sk8 #sk8 the infinity #sk8 spoilers #spoilers #sk8 the infinity spoilers

121 notes · View notes

jawritter · 4 years ago

Text

Mirror Mirror

Summary: It can be hard to be married to someone you see as virtually the most beautiful person in the world, when you don’t see yourself that way, and all eyes seem to be watching.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Sized!Reader

Warnings: Floooffff, tooth rooting floooffff!! Lol, Flangst, probably the flangstiest flangst I’ve ever flangsted. Language, self hate, insecure reader. Jensen's is a complete fucking sweetheart. That’s about it I think.

Ward Count: 2249

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!

A/N: Okay guys! This fic was one I wrote before the final and now I’m glad I wrote this baby before hand, because while I’m still working on the comfort fic you all requested, It’s taking me a little to get my emotions under control! So, that being said, enjoy this one guys! The Jensen x Reader comfort fic which will be titled Pieces Of Me, will be here as soon as I can guys! Feedback is gold! Please do not copy my work!

***MASTERLIST*** ***BECOME A PATREON***

You stood in front of the most dreaded object in your house with big, ugly tears rolling down your reddened cheeks.

The mirror.

There was a stack of dresses in expensive bags behind you, and a pile of matching shoes scattered across your bedroom floor. You had been at this for more than three hours, and nothing you put on looked right to you.

Your eyes rake over the image of your disgruntled self in the mirror as you run your hands down your not so flat stomach; all the way down to your thighs that were a lot thicker than what was considered “pretty” by most standards.

Every dress you put on today seemed to do nothing but accentuate your worst features, and highlight the things that you were the most self conscious about, and today was the last day you had to pick an outfit for the awards ceremony that your husband had to attend in California. You were flying out first thing in the morning, and you still had nothing to wear. The thought utterly terrifies you.

You turn away from your reflection in disgust and sit down heavily on the foot of your bed, your head hanging down as the tears flowed heavier from your eyes onto the black satin material of the dress that went down to your knees.

You hated awards ceremonies, and this was why. You hated all public appearances where you had to be seen by the fans with Jensen, but awards ceremonies were like next level humiliation for you.

You didn’t have the body of the actresses and supermodels that walked the red carpet alongside your husband who was WAY the hell out of league. You were a little overweight, and you always had been. No matter how many miles you got up early to run in the morning, or expensive gym memberships you wasted hard earned money on, you were still on the heavier side.

Diet pills either did nothing, or made you sick. You weren’t heavy enough for surgery, and even if you were you would be terrified to take it that far. Diets themselves did NOTHING, and you had done some pretty extreme diets since you met and started dating Jensen. Once you had married him, you continued to try and lose weight, even though Jensen insisted you were beautiful.

You never told him, but you had seen the comments on social media concerning Jensen’s “fatass of a wife,” and how “he could do so much better than that.” The one that stuck with you the most was, “I bet on the rare occasion he does have sex with her it’s when the lights off.”

People were cruel, and when they were able to hide behind the safety of computers they were even more cruel than usual. You knew that if you didn’t look just right on the red carpet tomorrow with Jensen, if you didn’t look like the woman he deserved to have on his arm, and not just yourself, they would tear you both apart.

You were so lost in your self loathing that you didn’t hear the front door close, or Jensen’s heavy footfalls making their way closer to your still open bedroom door. When he first caught sight of you, and all the clothing bags and shoes that littered the room, his heart fell to his feet. He wished you could see you the way he saw you, he wished you could see just how beautiful you were. He’d been trying to help you see it for years, but when big events like this come up they seem to drag out all those old insecurities that broke his heart almost as bad as they broke yours.

Jensen made his way over to you as you quickly tried to wipe the tears from your face to hide the fact that you were crying and knelt down in front of you, taking your hand in his own while cupping the side of your face with his free hand, making you look up into his piercing green eyes that looked sadder than you expected them too.

“What’s wrong baby,” he asked you, catching a stray tear with the pad of his thumb and wiping it away before it had a chance to join the other’s on our lap.

You just shook your head and tried to look away as you attempted to swallow the giant lump of nothing that formed in your throat. Jensen was having none of it, and moved to sit on the bed next to you, shoving the bags out of his way so that there was a place next to you.

“Come on pretty girl, talk to me please. What’s got you so upset?”

You knew he wasn’t going to let it go, so you tried to take a deep breath to steady your nerves. You didn’t want to melt into a weeping mess in front of him, not over something like this, but everything just seemed so amplified lately. All the stress caused your emotions to get out of control because you really had no idea why you were stressed, you just were, and everything just seemed overwhelming lately.

“I’m fat Jay,” you tell him, hating how thick your voice sounds from all the crying you’d been doing for hours now. “I’m too fat to fit into anything, and look good enough to go to this awards thing with you. People are going to make fun of you for being married to a fucking whale. Maybe I should just stay here in Austin.” A dark chuckle formed in your throat at the thought you never intended to say aloud, but did anyway. “Maybe you should just divorce me and find someone who’s more your speed.”

“Wait a minute, woah, where is this coming from?” Jensen asked, turning to face you on the bed, and cupping your face in his large hands. “Baby girl, you are NOT fat! Why would you say something like that?”

You jerk away from his hold, emotions getting the better of you as you stood to your feet in front of him, gesturing to your body that was still squeezed into the black cocktail dress that you hated so much right now. “Are you blind? Look at me Jensen! I’m fat! I don’t need you to lie to me because you feel that you have to because we’re married! I’m not a moron. I look in the mirror everyday! I’m FAT!”

Your tone was harsh as it all tumbled out of you, but Jensen just gave you a sad look, not interrupting, just letting you get it all out of your system. Once you were done, and just flopped back down on the bed in defeat, Jensen grabbed your hand, and pulled you over to the mirror, stopping you in front of it, and guiding your gaze to the reflection that was staring at you as he stood behind you, brushing your hair away from your face as his eyes raked down your body.

“Can I tell you what I see?” He asked, but you just shook your head, and tried to turn away, but he stopped you.

“Jay, please, I know what I look like....”

“I never said let me tell you what you see, I want to tell you what I see.” Jensen said, turning you back to the mirror as you let out a deep breath in defeat, choosing silence in fear of hurting his feelings when he’d done nothing wrong.

“I see a strong, beautiful young woman, who is way more than I ever deserved. I see a woman who knows just what to do to drive me crazy in the best ways. I see someone that’s stood by me when most people would have walked away from me. I see a woman who I can’t go to sleep at night unless she’s tucked into my arms. I see my reason for waking up in the morning. I see the woman I love with everything in me. I see the woman I want to have a family, grow old with, and be buried next to someday.”

He reached around and brushed the tears aways before leaving a trail of soft, open mouth kisses down the exposed skin of your neck and shoulder. His big hands slide down to lay over your stomach that you hated so much before his eyes met yours in the mirror, his gaze soft and warm laced with love that you sometimes forgot to look for when you needed to feel it the most.

“I don’t love you because of the way you look, but baby let me tell you nobody drives me as crazy as you do. Do you seriously think some skinny little bitch could handle me? Baby girl, I’d split her open,” he all but growled, nipping at the shell of your ear to drive his point home, sending a warm shiver down your back, letting you momentarily forget what you were even upset about as heat pooled through your body at the slightest touch.

“Those women in the industry, they’re not real women. You have the body of a real woman. Safe, warm, mine.” Turning you abruptly in his arms his lips found yours in a heated kiss that left you breathless and your world spinning when he finally pulled away from you. “I don’t want you to ever say that you're fat again, because you're not a baby girl. To me you're perfect, and that’s all that matters. I don’t give a shit about what people think. If they attack my girl, then they will live to regret it. You're gonna be the most beautiful woman on the red carpet tomorrow night, and when we get back to that hotel room, I’m gonna show you just how crazy that damn dress is driving me.”

Jensen's gaze darkened as his eyes roamed your body, and he licked his lips as if already plotting just how he was going to ruin you when you got to California.

“Why wait until tomorrow night, when we got all night to pack?” you asked him, running your fingers through his hair that had been getting longer ever since Supernatural had ended, enjoying the almost purr that fell from his lips as he nuzzled deeper into your touch before his gaze found yours again, pulling you tighter into his hold.

“Because, I don’t want you to get mad okay? But there’s something I really want you to do for me right now,” he said, his eyes searching yours waiting on your response, and when you said nothing, just stood there on pins and needles, he brushed your lips with the pad of his thumb and placed his lips to your forehead before he finally told you what was on his mind.

“I want you to take a pregnancy test for me,” he said in a soft voice, so soft that you almost weren’t sure you heard him correctly at first, but pulling back to meet his gentle gaze you knew you had.

“A pregnancy test?” you asked him in disbelief, still unsure whether you should be offended or not.

“Baby, hear me out,” he said, sensing your change in demeanor. “You’ve been really emotional for a few weeks now. This isn’t the first time I caught you crying this week, and not just over something like this. You’re also three days late for your period, and we have been trying. I think you might be a pregnant sweetheart. It would explain why you're feeling this way.”

You swallowed hard and nodded as you thought back over the emotional wreck you had been all month long, and the longer you thought about it, the more you thought he could be right.

Giving him a quick peck on the lips, you slip out of his hold, and make your way to the bathroom to take the test. Your brain and body felt numb as your mind rolled over possible symptoms. The queasy feeling you passed off as bad Chinese food. The headaches. The extreme fatigue. The late period.

You didn’t even get the cap on before two pink lines appeared on the screen in front of you, and tears filled your eyes as you felt Jensen’s strong arms wrap around your middle, pulling you into a kiss that knocked the wind slap out of you. In that moment, it didn’t matter what the mirror said, or the assholes online said. At that moment, your body didn’t feel like an utter failure. All you could think about was the little miracle growing inside of you as you both held onto each other for a moment, and when Jensen turned you to the bathroom mirror, both of you with wet eyes and happy expressions staring back at you, Jensen brought his lips down to the top of your head.

“See, I told you. Now baby, do you see what I see, because I see my beautiful wife, and mother of my child. What I saw from the moment I met you.”

You nod and turn to press your lips to his again, feeling relaxed for the first time in weeks, now that it all made sense as to why you were all over the place all week. Your body was doing just what it was designed to do, and for the first time, you looked in the mirror, and didn’t hate what you saw.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @chevyharvelle @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6 @anaelsbrunette @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002 @teresa-67 @thoughts-and-funnies @hearteyes-j2 @miss-nerd95 @writers-whirlwind

Mirror Mirror Tags: @tuataracda123 @woodworthti666

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles one shot #jensen ackles x plus sized!reader #plus sized!reader #plus sized!reader inserts #x reader inserts #dean winchester #jensen x plus sized!reader #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jawritter #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn one shot

231 notes · View notes

builder051 · 3 years ago

Note

Jonestown 'verse if you're up for it.

Drugs of your choice adding up to two very high girls and whatever factor inciting a flashback appeals.

Thanks!

Not sure this is what you were going for, as it's very tame and slow moving. No big action or emeto, though both are mentioned. There is also an ED mention, and obviously mentions of drugs and alcohol.

___________________________________

"I thought this was supposed to be, you know, a date..?" Jess looks down her nose at the bottle of white pills Nat is currently crushing to powder with the handheld pill grinder. "Aren't hallucinogens more... I don't know..."

"Private?" Nat finishes, a sly smile on her face. She opens the grinder and tips the contents into the bottom of a glass, to which she quickly adds cranberry juice and a swizzle stick.

"And since when is cold medicine for grown-ups?" Jess's forehead wrinkles as Nat slides the cocktail across the table to her before she sees to making another one.

"Since it started coming in white powder." Nat laughs. "Still best to ingest, but feels a little fancier than drinking the red stuff straight."

"Ok, ok." Jess puts up her hands, then begins swirling her cocktail before the powder can form unpleasant lumps. "But, seriously. Poor man's ecstasy. For date night." Jess shakes her head. "How's this gonna work?"

"You're the one who told me to cut things off with my dealer," Nat reminds her, a little crossly.

"Yeah. But you didn't answer my question."

"See some pretty lights. Cuddle a lot. Maybe fuck around a little. Then lie back and enjoy the show." Nat grins as if all of this is obvious.

Jess shrugs. "If you say so."

Truth is, the whole thing doesn't sound all that bad. If Jess was still surly and hateful, she'd probably find the proposition not bad at all. But Nat's turned her soft a little. Whipped her flesh so what's underneath depresses under tender pressure. She might want to talk. She might want a little closeness she'll remember in the morning. But she might not want to tell Nat any of that.

"I do," Nat says, tossing crushed pills into another glass and quickly stirring in the powder.

"Ok, then." Jess throws back her beverage, focusing on the bitter cranberry and not on the chemical flavor of the squashed white tablets. They form a film on her tongue, though, and she has to use her teeth to scrape it away.

Nat's empty glass hits the table before Jess's. She's taken it as a slammer instead of a sipper, not that Jess has spent much time savoring it. Jess glances up at Nat's face to find her licking her lips and beckoning her to stand up and follow her toward the bedroom.

Jess is affronted, but she doesn't show it. It's her apartment, so she's the one who ought to be doing the inviting. Right now she's the more conservative presence, though, so maybe her inclination to take them to the sofa to watch television first would be too modest. From what she knows of the drug, Jess isn't sure how much time there is to "fuck around" before the hardcore hallucinations hit.

Once they're on either side of Jess's bed, Nat strips to her t-shirt and underwear. Jess copies her, mostly because it's uncomfortable to sleep in jeans, and putting on pajamas seems too modest in comparison.

"C'mere," Nat says, slipping under the covers and holding them open for Jess.

"Yeah..." Jess slowly wriggles in, moving quickly when she meets Nat's arms and moving into the space left for her. Nat's body is warm, and they fit together well, hips interlocking and knees passing one atop the other.

Nat presses her forehead to Jess's and kisses the end of her nose. Jess can barely keep from screwing up her eyes, for the contact is... not unwanted, exactly. Just a bit much. But at least it's not a kiss on the lips. Jess isn't convinced she won't bite. And not in the sensual way.

"We've got, oh, I don't know. Twenty minutes?" Nat brings her face into Jess's neck, placing her chin on Jess's collarbone. "What do you wanna do?"

Nat's knee finds Jess's crotch and moves back and forth a few times, but Jess uses her hand to gently stop the motion. The presence is fine. The warmth, the comfort of her girlfriend; not just a fling or a casual friend who's weaseled their way into a benefit.

"Mm," Jess muses. "Talk, I guess."

"Ok." Nat goes a little limp. "How are you?"

"Eh."

"I mean, what've you been up to?"

Jess shrugs, raising Nat's chin a little. "Work. Missions. Whiskey." Then she smiles a little. "My girl."

"You've been up your girl?" Nat giggles.

Jess wonders if the white powder is already affecting her.

"Sometimes," she answers, grinning. Then she wonders if she herself is getting emboldened by its ingestion.

Nat keeps laughing. She's gotten bony again lately, and Jess wonders if the dose is weight affected. She's starting to feel fuzzy around the edges, but Nat's bordering on hysterical.

"Chill out a little, would you?" Jess says, wrapping her arms around Nat's body and lifting her easily a couple inches away from her body.

"Whoa." Nat's eyes cross, then float back to normal.

"Twenty minutes?" Jess cocks her head. "How about... fiveish?

"Maybe I should've 'fessed up." Nat puts her hand loosely over her mouth. "I usually take the kid route and drink the red stuff. Or the not-red stuff..."

"Huh?"

"Ever heard of robocough?"

"For fuck's sake, Nat..."

"What? It's better than actual E."

"Yeah, I know, the dealer thing..." Jess shakes her head. "But do you want kidneys?"

Nat shrugs. "Body..."

"'S a good body." Jess strokes Nat shoulder to tit to hipbone, then wraps her arm around her waist. There's definitely less meat than the last time they laid together. It's not her place to say something, though. That's Nat's business, until she gets to the hospitalization point.

"Anyway," Nat goes on, a little slurred. "Powder. That's the way to go."

Jess thinks of the first time she dipped her finger into a little plastic baggie of cocaine and set alight her nostril. She'd been, what, sixteen? Too young and too fed up with her foster care situation to give the cons of her choice much thought. "Yeah..."

She knows Nat started much of the same way, as an orphaned teen, either just out of the red room or during some tenured mission while she was still in their custody. The story changes sometimes. But the progression was much the same for both of them. Uppers. Then downers. Then, well, what they're playing with now. Only the grown-up type. Ecstasy and LSD were fun to use every once in a while, as an escape from the dreaded ordinary that was their lives.

They've discussed it. As much as either of them wants to discuss anything. Similar drug habits are a funny bond. One, a few months ago, they'd once smoked crack together before a mission, then been so thrilled no one had noticed that they stopped at the drugstore for a bottle of cheap champagne.

Champagne. She hasn't had any, so that's not the taste lingering on Jess's tongue. It's the cranberry, since she's scraped away all the white powder already. Jess forgets for a moment that she's had cranberry, though, and swallows hard, wondering if she's experiencing the dregs of vomit. She gulps a couple of times, and, unfortunately, Nat notices.

"Are you gonna puke?" she asks, slipping mostly off Jess and cuddling her from the side. "Are you seriously that high already?"

"No," Jess immediately protests. "I just... Cranberry." She tries to smile. She doesn't want to go through her train of thought to get to the champagne, so she just says, "I'm used to Jack, you know."

"And coke?" Nat grins.

"Ugh, no." Jess hasn't had that either since a bad night that ended with a bad trip. When some days include killing people, including one day long ago where her actions killed her parents, her occasional forays into hallucinogens can come out with some fairly awful results. That one, where the E had been downed with her favorite Jack Daniels and...someone else's... favorite diet coke, had resulted in images of dripping blood that turned out to be very real, as she'd bashed her nose into the edge of the toilet seat and busted a few vessels.

She knows Nat's teasing just a little, but Jess feels bad. She feels burdensome and heavy, which she knows is the recipe for a night of visions she'll regret. It's probably too late now to puke up the drug; Jess can feel it penetrating her system, arranging her settings to vibrate at the ultimate sensitivity.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Jess asks, but it's pointless. Nat's already under, and there's no way to tell if she's heard the question. Her eyes are closed, and her chin rests on Jess's shoulder as her face burrows into the space between the bed's two pillows.

"Fuck..." Jess mumbles. Lights begin to flicker around the edges of her visual field. She resigns herself for whatever's about to come next and closes her eyes. She scoots so her hip is in the sideways V between Nat's torso and thighs. Her warmth is comforting, even as the vision begins to up her anxiety.

Jess feels as though she's one with the bed, one with Nat, and her body is rushing forward to some unknown location in the dark. She slips her arm between Nat's tangled ones and holds on. Nat moans a little, and Jess wonders what she's seeing. Something pleasurable, she hopes.

Jess lets out her breath and wonders what she'll see. She has a stomach full of nerves, but she fights to ignore them as she shrugs and forces herself to answer her own question. Something pleasurable, she hopes.

#jonestown #avengers #jessica jones #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #marvel #mcu #fanfic #fanfiction #sickfic #emeto #alcohol #drugs #ed tw #blood #wlw #f/f #natasha x jessica #crossover

7 notes · View notes

insane-control-room · 4 years ago

Text

migraine

Am I the only one I know waging a war behind their face and above their throat?

Written with @randomwriteronline

warnings: migraine, depression, suicidal feelings

ao3 version here

Thunder in his head. Lightning in his eyes, flashing and pulsing, black seeping and rising and falling, like tidal waves crashing onto his thoughts, shoulders hunching like a beast unable to escape an unseen assailant. It felt as though someone had shot an electrified crossbow bolt straight into the base of his skull, tearing past skin and bone and shocking his very brain. It caused painful shivers across his limbs and tightened around his ribs, constricting his breathing and making his heartbeat viscerally loud in his mind, feeling each and every pulsation roar in his ears and neck like unresting waves shaken by an oceanic earthquake. A bubble seemed to form around the sides of his head, frothing outwards from his very cochlea and stiff jaw. His forehead felt like someone had placed a boa constrictor around the perimeter of his skull and allowed it to squeeze until he would scream.

Joey had a migraine.

The bright glow shining directly into his sore eyes from the light table beneath his work did not help. In fact, one might say it was making it all the worse!

His head hurt, his legs ached, and his arms were stiff and unwilling to follow his requests.

An indiscernible mumble growled around him and slipped into his ears before expanding across his entire brain, emanating outwards through his spinal column, a full body tension unleashing like a rubberband suddenly yanked by two fingers and thus pushed to its absolute limit.

Thank goodness it was Friday, because Joey was going to snap soon if that grew much further.

His hand had let go of his pen, and he was hardly aware of its nails driving in repeatedly between his radius and ulna. Another rumble like a plane taking off right beside him, rattling him to his very atomic being, each quark screaming in protest, making everything even worse, despite how insane that seemed to be. He could hardly breathe. However, with Friday came the dread of Sunday-- the day he would be completely alone. Henry would be away at the clinic. The children would go out to extracurricular activities. No one would be in the building except for himself, his bees buzzing outside his window, and his demons.

He was not ready for that. He had never been ready for that, and would usually hide away on his computer to ignore that short walk up to the roof, not eat for fear of entering the kitchen and finding an object which would be used not by himself, not drink to avoid the easy escape of pills and the winding thoughts that brought him far, far, far away from sanity and drowned him within the liquid. And then, when his family would come home, he would lie about it by not saying anything at all.

Sometimes, when it would be dark outside and the air soothing him with storms and snow, he would think about telling Henry, writing it down and silently handing it to him so that he could read the truth himself, devoid of any more omissions, but he always stuffed those letters away into the vault, sealing them forever.

“Are you even listening to me?!”

Joey once again wished he was not ever there to hear those words, wishing himself to be blotted out of existence another time, if only for a single neverending moment. He found himself gaping wordlessly at the air, a fish desperate for water, suspended before Abby without any excuse for himself, unsure what the matter was that she would be so testy.

“Can I h-help you?” he asked, demure.

“I asked you that,” Abby stated, hands on her hips. “I asked if you were okay, and you didn’t answer. Multiple times. Could you tell me what’s the matter, Mr. Drew? Or is there none? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I just have been preoccupied with my depress…” Joey trailed on, trying to hide the panic in his eyes. His head hurt too much to filter, and his tongue had already slipped. “...ing thoughts.”

“We have a deadline for this episode, Mr. Drew,” she said, shrugging off his comment, “and we haven’t even gotten a storyline for it yet! Do you have writer’s block or something of the sort?”

His head shook almost bonelessly, carefully so as to not rattle his thoughts. Time seemed to be going so slowly, how long had he been sitting there working on that single frame? When was the last time that he had slept? Was he thinking or was he just moving along a sleepwalking path like a beast made of sludge and string? He blinked a few times and saw the drawings double as the rumble in his ears increased deafeningly.

“You don’t look so good.”

“I’m not as fine as I s-seem,” Joey said with a bright smile. He rose suddenly, the motion revolting to his body, and he nodded to her, still smiling, and he began walking out. “Pardon.”

He was outside, trying to use fresh air as a weapon against the pain. The roses were still just sticks, not yet able to blossom with greenery. His head was under his arms, and his ears twitched as they picked up the slightest change in notes that indicated an approach of someone, someone small.

Bendy crawled into his lap.

“See all those rose bushes, baby?” Joey whispered, holding him gently with his horned head pressed to his trapped chest. “That’s kinda how my head is right now.”

‘Ready to grow?’ Bendy asked, tilting his head. Joey smiled slightly, and corrected, “That’s a bit different then what I meant. I mean… don’t they l-look burnt?”

‘A little bit,’ Bendy answered, looking around. ‘But not really. No burns.’

“Mmm.”

The parent and child were quiet.

‘Do not forget this, Bendy,’ Joey silently remarked after a while, the sun moving by degrees across the sky so slightly it appeared to not go at all. ‘When I paint, I do not think, but I know what I do. I think behind my mind. Sometimes I draw things that are… disturbing, you know?’

‘Sometimes, but I think everyone does,’ Bendy replied. Joey wondered just where he could have gotten such a brilliant, compassionate and empathetic child from, what did he do to deserve him? ‘I think that drawings and writing are a peek into the door of a person's mind that shows things they usually would not share.’

‘Right you are.’ Joey sighed in amazement. He loved his little darling devil, even through the burning cloud of pain that stormed and shrieked like a thousand banshees in his head. ‘And some of those minds are like Pandora's box. Or worse. Even if you are curious, you should not open them. Ever.’

‘I do not think your mind is like that,’ Bendy remarked. Johan tried not to tremble.

“There’s flecks of… not good things.”

‘Still not bad.’

‘It’s a wreck, Benderoo.’

‘Not bad.’

“Oh, Bendy.”

Joey hugged him, closing his eyes.

“It’s v-violent in there, my dear.” he murmured. “I might be afraid of the o-ocean, but that surrounds the small spaces that I can stand upon. My thoughts are… are like tidal waves, Bendy. Ebb, flow.”

‘But that is how the world goes. We need the tides.’

“But sometimes the tide might try to swallow you. It might lunge for you, l-like a famished lion I must f-fight.” Johan shivered, not with the thought of a beast devouring him, but the mere idea of the sea. “Blood upon the maw and bones within it.”

Bendy played with his father's hand, the thin palm much larger than his own soft plasmic ink one, releasing it to respond.

‘You are good, Papi.’

“I truly hope so.”

‘You are, Papi.’ the little toon insisted. ‘I know you are. You are my Papi, which must be good, and you always do the right thing.’

Johan smiled wryly: “You are too kind with me, Bendibop. I don't deserve that.”

‘Of course you do, Papi.’

Johan caressed his child's little horns through those tufts of keratin so much like his own.

“You really think I can be deserving of that?” he asked softly. “Even as I am a weapon?”

‘You are doing what you can. Sometimes you need to fight.’ Bendy smiled, hugging him sideways. Thin dark arms wrapped around the little inky body and Johan tucked him a little closer to himself. His smile sweetened a bit. ‘You are not alone. You have us, and the studio. Your family.’

“I guess you’re right, d-darling,” he murmured, laying a kiss on his child's head. “I got used to bein’ alone a long time ago, I suppose it’s h-hard to remember that I’m not anymore.”

‘Maybe we should have a day off,’ Bendy suggested. ‘With everyone. And have a picnic. Take a picture of it to hold it forever.’

‘For what?’

‘To remind you that we have got hope and each other,’ Bendy answered innocuously.

Joey smiled.

“We’ve made it pretty far, kid.”

#joey drew #johan ramirez #toon bendy #bendy #bendy the dancing demon #batim #bendy and the ink machine #migraine #twenty one pilots #21 piløts #depression #suicidal feelings #hope #happy ending #hopeful ending #parent child relationship #super sweet #whumptober2020 #collab

28 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

Text

Survey #350

“let’s play a love game, play a love game / do you want love, or you want fame? / are you in the game?”

Who was your first good kiss with? Jason. Would you kiss this person again? I know I fucking would and I hate it more than I could possibly express. Name something that is on your bedroom wall? Lots of artwork, mostly of meerkats. What accessory do you want in your bedroom? I need another desk to put stuff on. If you could paint your walls any color what would it be? Something pastel. Maybe like, peach. Soft and warm and would really bring light to the room. What does your phone case look like? It's just this boring purple one that came with the phone. What do you take the most pictures of? My camera roll says my pets, hahaha. What is the point of Twitter for you? Liking Mark's shit lmao. What does your planner look like? I don’t have one. If you get into an argument what is it usually about? My anxiety, I think. What are you always in the mood for? Ummm probably a car ride where I can control the music in the passenger seat. It is very, very rare I'll turn that opportunity down. What’s the last emergency you dealt with? I don't really know; I'm thankfully not in these situations very much, especially when you're cooped up at home. I probably haven't been actually engaged in an emergency since I had to call 911 for my mom before she found out about her cancer. She was basically immobile from agony in her abdomen. Do you have a son? I'm perfectly happy without a son, or kids period. Are you married? No. Have you ever worn a suit? I haven't. Have you ever had to call 911? Twice for Mom. How many keys are on your key-ring? Just one for the house. What’s the last thing you created? An RP post would count as art creation, I'd say. Who are your closest friends? Sara, Girt, and uh... Well, they might be it as far as friends I consider truly close to me. I have a few other people I consider good friends, but we're just not like... on that "close" level, you know? Lisa is maybe another, and Lyndsey perhaps, both WoW friends. Are you ready to have a family? I hate that "have a family" tends to mean get married and have kids, which I'm guessing is what you're implying. If that's the case, no, given I don't want kids and am not fit to get married right now. I'm not even with anyone. I'm content right now with just living with my mom and my two pets, who are children well enough to me. Have you ever taken a DNA test? No. Do you have a family cemetery? No. Would you say you have a high sex drive or not so much? *shrugs* I think it's pretty normal. How do you feel about swallowing pills? What do you mean how do I "feel" about it? I just do it if I need to. What animal is the scariest in your opinion? Some kind of bug, probably. Giant centipedes creep me the fuck out, for one, and I've heard their bite is incredibly painful. I've also always been very afraid of Australia's funnel web spiders since watching some show on Animal Planet when I was younger; I think it scarred me for life, aha. And let's not forget the murder hornets. No thnx, rather die. :') Have you ever questioned your sanity? Way more than once, my friend. How do you feel about people wearing fur coats? Are you for or against it? I am VIOLENTLY against it unless it is for survival in extreme climates and you don't have access to other material. That aside, there is NO way you could possibly convince me that it's okay to wear the fur of something once living on yourself for ~fashion~. What’s the worst thing a friend has either done or said to you? Let's not go here. What’s fake about you? Like extensions, fake nails, botox etc. Nothing. If you got the chance, would you audition for a reality show? No. Have you ever gotten into a Facebook fight? Haha, yeah. Favorite flavor of jelly bean? Probably watermelon or strawberry. I'm not a massive jellybean fan. Do you use Tinder? If yes, have you ever met up with someone you matched? I've never tried it, no. What book/movie has made you cry the hardest? Either The Notebook or Titanic. Something you feared as a kid but don’t anymore? Thunderstorms. What’s your skincare routine? I don't really have one. Just wash it with water in the shower and then use a washcloth when I feel the need. Would you rather have a snake or a tarantula as a pet? I want both, but I prefer snakes. What is something you are NOT looking forward to? I both am and am not looking forward to my second Covid vaccine because it's notoriously worse than the first; the only bright side to it is that after the potential side effects blow over, I'm job hunting. What do you usually do right when you wake up? Check the time on my phone. Would you rather eat your pizza cold or hot? Hot, but I like both. Who taught you how to swim? Dad, I think? Can you do push-ups? No. Do you like Doritos? Yesssss. Who is the closest friend that you live by? I don't know. Have you ever banged your head against something? I've had two concussions before, so, y'know. Have you ever jumped on a trampoline? Yeah, I loved that as a kid. Do you like watching scary movies? Yeah. Has anyone ever told you that you have a big butt? No, considering I have like no ass, rip. Has one of your friends ever tried to "hook you up?" Ugh, yes. Do you prefer landmarks or street names when being given directions? Landmarks, by a mile. Although, I'm super bad with directions, so it probably wouldn't really matter much. Do you read the prologues in the beginnings of books? Yeah, you got to. Does your house have more than one fireplace? No. What was your favourite gym class moment? The one and only thing I liked about gym as a kid was when you took one of those rainbow tarps and made like, an air bubble underneath to make this awesome dome everyone sat in. Ya missed out if you didn't do that. Do you think that ocean boardwalks are fun? Yeah. Do you dread when people ask you to sign their yearbooks? Not at all; I was always flattered, knowing they cared enough to want mine. Apple Jacks: yay or nay? I looove those. Do you have a favorite Scooby-Doo movie? Haha yeah, I think it's the second one? Such iconic scenes. It's the one with the Mary Jane girl that Shaggy liked... oh, jokes that went over your head as a kid. Who were your last 3 Facebook messages from and what do they say? I'm too lazy to list the convos themselves, but the people involved are my friends Chelsea and Ian, as well as a friend's mother. Do you turn your phone off at night when you go to sleep? No. It's always on vibrate, and I just turn the brightness way down. What is the sexual orientation of the last person you talked to? She's straight. What’s your favourite hairstyle on the opposite sex? Don't you fucking dare laugh, emo hair is A++. Has anyone ever played a prank on you? What happened? Not a big one, no. Do you like the Silent Hill movies? Do I?! I love the first one (though for a while I wasn't very happy they swapped the lead role from Harry to his wife), and while the second is literal trash story-wise and it's ALL over the damn place, I still enjoy it with just how much I adore SH as a whole. What movie scared you the most out of any other movies? The Rite, because the concept of being raped and impregnated by a demon is fucking horrifying to me. Have you ever wanted to be on American Idol? When was this? Nah. Name 5 things you don’t believe in. 1.) "Everything happens for a reason;" 2.) karma; 3.) destiny/fate; 4.) psychics, fortune tellers, all that; and 5.) luck, at least in the sense of someone having set "good" or "bad" luck. If you could have any friend that you’ve lost back, who would you pick? Probably Megan. If you have pets, who normally puts food and water in their dish? Me for both of them. Do you organize the pictures on your computer into different folders or are they all just under “My Pictures”? I have folders. Do you think if someone is in a relationship, that it is acceptable to have sleepovers with other people of their preferred sex? Eh, nah, that feels a bit far to me. I am very firmly for friends still being able to hang out even if they're each other's preferred gender, but a sleepover sounds a bit too intimate, even without sharing a bed. Would you shoot a gun if given the chance? If you’ve shot a gun before, how many different types of guns have you shot? No. I'm very intimidated by guns and nearly shook when I merely handed a friend his (not for anything bad, he just carried it with him when he goes out), and I've got noooo plans of holding one again unless my life depends on it. Do you feel uncomfortable sharing things like artwork or poetry you’ve written? Is it because you don’t think it’s good enough to show off or because it’s too personal? You. Have. Zero. Idea. It's for both reasons, and it's far more severe in person. Online, I actually don't mind much, oddly enough... I can't quite pin down why. Do you have any siblings you absolutely despise? Why do you despise them? No. Do knives scare you? Is it from watching scary movies? Knives scare me like five times more than guns. Scary movies have nothing to do with it, though. They're just so sharp and the idea of being stabbed by one is terrifying. As someone with a history of self-mutilation too (not with knives, but I've thought about it and once planned to slit my throat with one, but Mom stopped me), they just make me incredibly uncomfortable to the point I can barely hold a "real" knife to just slice food. Have you ever climbed a chain-link fence? Many times. What is your LEAST favorite Disney animated movie? That I've seen, uhhhhh... I don't know man, there are way too many Disney movies lmao. Who was the last person’s house you went to besides your own? My sister's. On YouTube, who are two people you find hilarious? I'm just counting GameGrumps as one, and then you can't forget Shane Dawson, regardless of the controversy. He probably made me laugh more than any other YouTuber. Do you shave your pits? Yeah. Do you know anyone who has been on life support, and survived? I don't think so. Besides the USA, what is your favorite country? I'm not nearly informed enough about foreign countries' politics and laws and mannerisms to have a favorite. Would you rather go to Europe or Asia? Europe. Would you rather go to Africa or Australia? Africa. Would you rather go to Mexico or Canada? Canada. Do you think emo/scene hair is attractive? I love emo and scene hair, don't @ me, it's cute as fuck. Have you ever seen a ghost orb picture? Lots, actually, at one of my old houses that I totally know was haunted. Do you think abortion should be illegal? NO. You would NOT end abortions. You would end SAFE abortions. Do any of your pets have strange habits? Explain? Venus, my ball python, is extremely odd with food to the point I sometimes worry about her, but she's always been this way and is healthy, so I guess it's nothing really worth fretting over. Anyway, when I place her rat in her terrarium, she gets excited first and will pretty much frantically examine her surroundings, like slithering around everywhere, and even when she has clearly found the rat (she'll even prod it with her snout), she usually won't immediately eat. She just like... sits there and has to continue to verify for ten minutes that it's food. I know it's thawed perfectly, btw. So anyway, THAT'S weird... As for Roman, dear god, that cat's just weird, lmao. Especially in the morning, he's very hyper and will bolt around the house sometimes, he "plays" with nothing all the time, he "meerkat"s at nothing that I can nothing, etc. etc. etc. He's a weirdo lol. Have you ever told an extremely inappropriate joke? Oh god, I said something really inapprops once when my friend Chelsea startled me. I won't be repeating it lmao. Who in life have you felt the strongest need to protect? Sara, I think. Who have you most feared in your life? My dad. He doesn't scare me anymore, but he did. What was the quickest friendship you ever made? Oh idk. What is the worst word anyone ever used to describe you? "Martyr." And not the kind that dies for their beliefs. It hurt me so badly to know someone thought of me that way, and I'll probably never let it go. If you have any pets, were they adopted from the humane society? No. Roman is one of the billion kittens born to the cats my sister's in-laws have, and Venus is from a ball python breeding business in Florida called The Gourmet Rodent (they sell f/t rodents too, obvs) Do you like home design, like picking out paint colors and furniture? Not really. My grandmother though, whew, that was her calling for sure. Have you seen any of the old James Bond movies? Nope. List all of your features that you have ever gotten compliments on: My hair, my eyes, my tattoos, my hands, I think my nose, my dimples, my smile, and my boobs lmao. Have you ever been in a hot air balloon? And if not, would you ever want to go in one? I haven't. I think it'd be kinda cool, but they seem too easy to fall out of, and I'm afraid of heights. I'd probably go in one if given the opportunity. Do you have any stains on your shirt currently? No, but there are two small rips. It's just an old tank top. Do you listen to local bands? No. Not that I'm opposed, I just don't know of any I really enjoy. Do you watch YouTube videos often? Many, many daily. Do your parents fight? Do they even talk at all? They're divorced; they used to fight a lot when they were together. Now they only talk if they have reason to. Have you ever watched a movie that's in a complete different language, so you had to read sub-titles? No. Do people with yellow teeth disgust you? Dude, fuck off, no. My teeth are kinda yellow, and I'm extremely self-conscious about it, so seriously fuck this question. You never know for sure why someone's teeth may seem yellowish. Do you drink alcohol on New Year’s Eve? Usually a drink or two. Do you wear rings? I always have two on, yeah. Are you hungry right now? No, I literally just ate a breakfast bowl. Have you ever tried smoking a cigarette? No; I haven't the slightest interest in doing so.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''lovegame'' by lady gaga

3 notes · View notes

erintoknow · 5 years ago

Text

icepack

fallen hero fan fiction sidestep era chargestep ~2.2k words

------

“And then you just… POW right in the mouth!”

“Shut up!” You try not to laugh. “It was either that or let him shoot you.”

“You must really kill at the clubs.”

“Maybe I should have let him shoot you.”

“No, no, it was great. Damn, where are my keys? Oh, thanks.”

“You’d forget your own head if it wasn’t for me.”

“I’m not that bad.” The door knobs jostles as Ortega fusses with the lock. “You should’ve seen Sentinel the other week, we spent an hour looking and he had his keys the whole time.” The door swings up and light from the hallway floods into the darkened apartment. Getting through the door is a little awkward with Ortega’s arm slung over your shoulder, but the two of you manage to crab walk your way in. Ortega flips on the lights as you pass through the kitchen.

You let her lead the way to the living room, and gently sit her down on the couch. “How’s that knee feeling?”

“Like I told you, Ariadne, it’s fine.”

“Fine my ass.” You snap back. She limped the whole way home, hell you had to help her up the stairs. She’s as bad as you, you swear.

“That’s pretty fine too.”

You stiffen, the ghost of her arm still felt on your back. “You should get a professional to check on it tomorrow. Just to be safe.” You must have misheard that.

“I’ll be fine.” Ortega rubs her leg, scrunching and stretching out the fabric of the skinsuit. “You’ve certainly walked off worse.”

“Yeah well, I don’t exactly have…” You bite back the words in your mouth, swallow them down.

“What?” Ortega gives you a curious look and it’s too much. You need to escape it. Turn your back on her and retreat to the kitchen, hunting through the cabinets for plastic bags.

“It’s nothing. Look, just get it looked at, okay?”

“Mierda, I don’t need two moms.”

“So help me god, Ortega, you should thank your lucky stars it’s me and not Tiá here telling you.”

“I don’t know whether to be ecstatic or terrified at how well you two have hit it off.”

You roll your eyes, not that Ortega can see it. “She’s just grateful someone’s out there making sure her daughter doesn’t get herself killed is all.”

“She wants you to come over for the holidays, did she tell you that?”

You pause, staring into the freezer with a handful of ice. “Huh.” The lance of cold in your hand pulls you back out of your head and you resume filling the plastic bag. “Like the day of the dead thing?”

“Dia de Muertos.”

“Yeah. That.”

“You know how I feel about parties.”

“Ari.” Her voice is sharp. “This is a private family thing.”

“Here.” You walk back into the living room hold a plastic bag full of ice. You carefully wrap it in a towel you stole hanging off the dishwasher and toss it to Ortega. “Keep that pressed on your knee, it’ll–“

“I know what an ice pack is mamá.” Her voice is teasing but you wince anyway. “You should come.” And she’s back to serious again.

You linger, leaning your arms on the back of the couch, grateful for the barrier it makes. How Ortega has to tilt back and up to see you. “I don’t… it’d be weird, wouldn’t it?”

“How would it be weird?”

God, she’s really going to make you spell it out? “You just said it. It’s like, a family thing, right?

She scoffs at you. “What? You think you aren’t family?”

You roll your eyes. “Ortega, we’ve known each other for barely three years.”

“And yet we’re practically sisters already.”

Something about that comment makes you wince, makes you want to stab back. Why? “Oh, so now I’m your sister? I thought I was your mother before.”

Ortega takes it stride. “Nothing says you can’t be both.”

You have to bite your lip to keep form laughing. “That’s kind of fucked up, isn’t?” You shift position, “Scooch over, I’m sitting down,” you warn before vaulting over the back of the couch, sliding down next to Ortega.

“You know, one day you’re going to break the couch doing that and there’ll be hell to pay.”

You don’t even try hiding your laughter this time. “You’ll have catch me first old woman.”

“Hey! 29 is not old.”

“Practically obsolete. Sorry Sparkles, but thems the breaks.” You can’t help the grin on your face now as Ortega glowers at you, right hand too preoccupied keeping the ice pack pressed to punch you.

You touch a hand to your face– oh. Wince. “Well, I guess if I’m staying here awhile…” You try not to think about whether Ortega’s eyes are on you as you pull your mask off, running your other hand through your hair as is takes the new freedom to spill out all over your face in spiraling waves of reddish brown. It’s getting too long. You need to cut it back before it starts being a problem.

“I was wondering if I’d get to see that face today.”

You narrow your eyes at her as you drop your mask on your lap to continue fixing your hair. “C-cool your jets Carmen, or you’ll lose face privileges again.” You know perfectly well your face is awful, you wish she’d stop making jokes about it.

It doesn’t help that the way Ortega is looking at you is just making you more anxious. You shift position on the couch so you’re facing the balcony window. Huh. Still haven’t replaced the railing. Embarrassing. “Hey, I’ve been wondering,” Ortega starts and you brace yourself. That’s a terrifying way to start a sentence. “Are you seeing anyone?”

You freeze, both hands in your hair, mind blank.

What?

“Oh– sorry.” From the corner of your eye you can sea Ortega reach back with her free hand to rub at her neck. “I was just… You’re always getting an earful from me and well,” Ortega keeps rubbing the back of her neck. “I just wanted you to… uh, feel free to vent your own troubles?” She glances at you. “I mean, if you want to, is all.”

You don’t look at her. “This is about that music guy isn’t?” Are you angry? Anxious? Both?

“How many more times do I need to say sorry about that?”

You press your lips into a grim smile. “At least two more milkshakes.”

“Well that’s not so bad.”

“You’re hard to stay mad at.”

You don’t have to be looking at her to know she’s got that smug grin on her face. “I’m just naturally charming.”

“Three milkshakes now, old lady.” You bite your lip, tracing patterns on your leg as you stare out the window. “You really don’t need to keep trying to set me up with people. It’s… weird?”

Ortega huffs and leans forward, trying to intrude on your field of vision or see you face or both. “Why’s it weird?”

“It… it just is, okay?” You can’t tell her. It’ll beg too many other questions. Questions that you aren’t ready answer. Aren’t ready for how it’ll change things. You like what you have now. Too much maybe. You should have known better than to have gotten this comfortable with the Marshal. “I’m… not interested, is all. I guess.” You press your finger into you thigh, little patterns you’ve learned by heart now. You don’t want her to look at you differently. Like a man or like a–

There’s a brief moment of merciful silence and then– “So you are into women then.”

You choke. “What?”

Ortega laughs at the look on your face. “Honestly. I should have put it together after how hard you crushed on Sunstream.”

You can feel the heat on your cheeks. “God, what? I was just– Look. She’s been through a lot okay?”

“You were just worried for her.”

“Yes!”

“As a friend.”

You turn to look Ortega in the eye. You really need to snip this in the bud now or you’ll never hear the end of it. “I’m serious! You know how hard she took the Nanosurge.”

She raises a hand, “Okay, okay.” She doesn’t sound like she believes you.

You can feel the anxiety in your gut as the silence stretches out between you. “…I hope she’s okay.” You admit. No one’s seen or heard from Sunstream since the letter with her surprise resignation. You’ve done some poking around on your own, and it’s only given you a sinking dread the more you’ve looked. It feels like a warning shot.

Carefully, Ortega puts her hand on your knee. “I’m sure she’s doing fine. I think she’s got family out east.” Does she really think that or is she just trying to reassure you?

“I… I hope so.” You let out your breath, slumping into your seat.

There was a time, before you started taking pills, that you found certain… men and women, had a… magnetic quality. They drew your eye whether you wanted it or not. It almost always got you nothing but trouble during missions. To say nothing of other, more dysphoric, thoughts. It had been a relief when that all went away.

Or… it seemed like it had. Was Ortega right? Had you been crushing on Sunstream? But your concern had been strictly altruistic, hadn’t it? It had to have been, right? The idea that maybe you had some alternative… predatory(?) motive… You have to swallow down the nausea.

“I don’t know… how do you…” You bit down on the inside of your check hard enough to make you wince. “You’re the expert.”

Ortega raises her eyebrows at you. “Uh-oh. What’s this about?”

You roll your eyes at her, look away. “H-how do you know if you like someone?”

“Uh–” You glance back at her. You’ve made Ortega uncomfortable again. That seems to be happening more often lately. You can feel the knife of tension in your guts. Whatever it is you keep doing wrong, you wish you could stop.

She rubs at the back of her neck with her free hand as she looks away. Lost in thought? “Well, it’s.. you just know. I guess? Something clicks and off you go.”

“Sorry.” You whisper. “That was a weird question.” This is too much. You can feel your throat pinch too tight. Try to swallow it down. You push off the couch so you can pace by the window. Put that nervous energy to something besides hurting your leg.

“Being a celebrity doesn’t help.”

You shoot her a look. “You poor thing.”

“I’m serious!” Ortega’s voice is light but she’s not smiling. “Sorting out who’s genuine and who’s not… having some gossip rag blowing up every coffee into a new relationship… You’d be better off asking literally anyone else. I think my perspective might be a little warped.”

“I thought you said you ‘just knew’ or something.”

You watch Ortega squirm on the couch through her reflection on the glass window. “Well…” She forces a laugh. “I guess it isn’t really that simple.”

A thought occurs to you, bringing your pacing to a halt. “Wait.” You look at her, “Do you–” You cut yourself off. You don’t want to finish that sentence, or hear the answer you’re sure to get. The impossibility of the thought already hurts too much.

“What?”

“I–it’s– it’s nothing.” You lie. “S-sorry.” You roll your shoulder, feel the little pops and cracks. “Just stop trying to set me up with guys, okay? I’m… I’m not interested.”

Ortega looks back at you. You know that expression, like she’s trying to figure you out. Why do you keep talking to her? The more you talk the more she learns, the more dangerous she is. “No more men then?” She says.

You narrow your eyes. Like you wouldn’t catch that. “No more anyone.”

That gets a smirk, and Ortega waves a hand in defeat. “Alright, alright.”

You run a hand through your hair. Should have brought some bobby pins with you. “I don’t even get why you care so much.” You say as you return to the couch.

“I just want my friends to be happy, that’s not a crime now, is it?” She laughs. “It’ll be awkward if I have to arrest myself.”

You punch her in the arm, “Buzz off with that, Sparkles. I’m plenty happy as is.” God this whole conversation is fraying your nerves. You laugh, letting anxiety transmute into more nervous energy. “What do I need some dumb boyfriend for when I’ve got a best friend?”

Ortega gives you a strange look, one you don’t know how to read. A kernel of panic starts in you mind before a grin breaks across her face. “So you’ll come to Mamá’s then?”

The question catches you off balance. You thought you’d successfully evaded that one. “I…” You look at Ortega, the expectant impression on her face. “Fine.” You say, admitting defeat. “But no more of this… w-weird matchmaker business. Okay?”

“Alright.” There’s that smug grin again. “If you ever change your mind though, I’m happy to help you out.”

You roll your eyes. “I– I won’t, I promise you.”

#fallen hero #fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fhr #fanfiction #wlw fanfic #fhr/Ariadne #mc #ortega #trans character #disaster gays

34 notes · View notes

sheismental · 6 years ago

Text

Insanity — tom holland (chapter one)

a/n: first chapter! comment your thoughts and tell me if you want to be tagged.

WARNING: Foul language (PG-13)

summary: twenty-one year old y/n l/n had trained for years to become one of the greatest secret agents in the U.S secret service - There was only one last task to do - only one mission left. And to do so, she has to partner with England’s greatest secret agent, Tom Holland. Taking down an international mobster is dangerous enough, but doing it while someone pulled on your heartstrings? That was insanity.

—

The lights were dimmed, the cold air of the A/C making your skin grow goosebumps as the screen before you showed several pictures of faces you had never seen before. Faces of people you had to know.

Your legs are crossed underneath the glass table, both hands clasped together as you sat straight, stealing glances at Tom - His brown eyes focused on the screen, jaw clenched as he sat carelessly on the leather chair. He wasn’t all business, too confident on his talents - thinking he would ace this mission like he had done for the past few years.

And (y/n) didn’t like that one bit, sloppiness wasn’t one of her favorite traits on a partner. In fact, she despised sloppiness, and apparently arrogant agents too.

“These are your new identities, we were quite meticulous picking them out and preparing them-.” He lays two new passports on the table, along with a file and several ID’s, Roger smiles proudly before rubbing his hands together.

You reach over to grab your passport, flipping through it intently. Katherine King, not a bad name considering what you had been named before.

Tom flips through his own passport, nodding as his eyebrows knit together - a smug smile plastering on his face.

“Jack King? Sounds like an old man’s name.” Tom comments, chuckling - Your eyes shoot up to him, widen and confused.

“King? Wait are we going to be like siblings or something like that?.” You ask Roger, your lips parted as Roger furrows his eyebrows - Shaking his head slowly.

“You’re Jack and Katherine King, a married couple from England, would you care to simply read the file, (y/n)? it will make things fairly easier.” Roger replies scoldingly and you frown before hastily taking the file between your fingers.

Tom stares at you, the smug smile never leaving his lips - He was amused by you. He was good at reading people, and you weren’t an exception to his talents, as charming as you tried to be - He knew you didn’t exactly fancy him, nor the idea of playing husband and wife with him.

“Moving on-.” Roger clears his throat, staring at the screen behind him. “We need you two to infiltrate the lair, if you may, of the international mobster Richard Osterfield - He was a hard one to track but we got word that he is doing business in England. Needless to say, he is shamelessly doing this - Half of the police department are on his payroll, and the other half make a blind eye whenever he is around. You need to understand he is dangerous, he has killed many without any remorse - We think he is planning to move onto bigger things.”

“So you want us to be an undercover couple giving you intel about him?.” You ask, licking your lips.

“Something like that.” Roger replies. “You’ll be covert for sure, but we need you two to do more than just give us intel about him - We need you to befriend him, become friends with his friends, be on the same parties as him. We need you to be on the same mob, watch how he rolls.” He explains, his deep grey eyes darting from Tom to you. “The reason we chose you two is because we’ve made a deal with the United Kingdom’s Secret Service to take down Richard, and you two are the best covert agents we have on each side."

Tom’s smirk grows bigger at Roger’s words.

“The file has everything you need to learn about your identities, be sure to know every single detail. You will have plenty of time to do so, since it’s a long flight.” Roger states and you nod understandingly. “We are trusting you with this, don’t disappoint us.”

You stand up, your face blank of expression as you shake Roger’s hand. The way he looks at you, a mix between a proud father and a demandant boss as his other hand covers your own.

“Be careful.” He mumbles, wrinkles forming into the crest of his forehead, you give him a tight lipped smile.

“I will.” You breathe out, slipping your hand off his and looking at Tom - Standing up with his hands on his sides as he stares blankly at you. “We have a flight to catch.”

And with that, you waltz out of the cold room - Swallowing the lump on your throat. You were fearless, you were the best trained secret agent on service, but even with all of that - Taking down an international mobster was something you were new at, and that made a feeling of worry grow in the pit of your stomach as you walked with your head high through the hallway.

You feel two arms wrap around you and turn you around, your face smashed against a strong chest.

“Mark.” You chuckle soflty as he embraces you like only a father would do.

“Little grasshopper.” He breathes out, and even when you felt this great love for him - You couldn’t, you just couldn’t tell him how much he meant to you. “I will miss you.”

I will miss you too turned into a:

“I’ll be back soon.”

And your farewell came soon enough, he unwraps his arms from around you - He was grimacing, he knew how much you had ached for a mission like this, and he dreaded the idea of it. You couldn’t look at him in the eyes, it was too painful - and there was no way in hell you could show that kind of weakness, so you turned around, face straight and walked away.

—

You make your way into the private jet, you see the multiple suitcases pilled on a corner as you walk toward one of the soft plushed seats. You sigh as you shut your eyes, feeling as the seat comfortably adjusted to your frame. The file was peeking through one of your bags, and you feel anxious - It was aching to be read, it needed to be read.

“Ah so I see you’ve already made yourself comfortable.” Tom’s thick accent fills the walls of the jet as he makes his way to the seat in front of you confidently, you can’t help but mentally groan.

“There is plenty of room in the jet for you to sit, does it really have to be in front of me?.” You mumble, narrowing your eyes at him. He laughs softly, and you hate every second of it.

“But i want to sit here, darling.” He replies, raising his eyes to reach yours. He leans forward, placing his elbows on his thighs as his hands clasp together, he is looking at you intently - Basking on the sight of your very much disliked face. “Besides we are husband and wife-.” He shifts, reaching into the pocket of his dress pants - He smiles winningly as he takes out a pair of rings. “Might as well act like it.” He states, taking one of the rings between his index finger and thumb, showing it to you with a smug smile - His eyes sparkling with arrogancy.

You clench your jaw, reaching for the ring with a fast movement - But he is faster, moving his hand away and clicking his tongue. A messy curl falls in front of his face as he smirked, he was really loving the nature of your situation.

“May I, love?.” He asks softly, voice thick as honey as he reaches for your hand - locking eyes with you. You bite your bottom lip, stern eyes looking straight into his soft brown ones - He was hiding something behind that smug arrogant smile, and you knew better than fall for his charm.

You comply for the sake of the mission, placing your hand on his hand with hesitation. But he continues with his smug smile and it only makes your stomach revolt - You really didn’t enjoy his arrogant manners, thinking he owned the mission, perhaps thinking he was better than you. But you knew better, because you are better.

His strong hand grabs your left hand, taking the ring between his fingers and sliding it up your finger - He smiles with satisfaction, the ring fits to perfection, looking like it was always meant to be there.

“There.” He says softly, looking up to you. “It wasn’t so bad, was it, love?.” He takes pleasure on how a frown grows on your face. You turn your head to the side, your hand falling on your lap - the golden ring glowing as the light bounces off the diamond.

You reach for the file, ignoring Tom’s stare and start to read through it. Might as well act like Katherine King.

As your eyes skim over the detailed file, you realize Katherine King is exactly the opposite from you; Wealthy, Sophisticated and utterly in love with Jack King, whom was a wealthy business man and only got the best of the best for his trophy wife. It all sounded like barf to you, and you wonder, how could people actually live like that? Not earning anything, just thinking they own everything.

You knew you had fought for what you had, granted - You had stolen a lot, but you used you brains for it, you had grown poor and made a name for yourself. It was hard to imagine growing the way Katherine King had grown - In a safe, loving home with an extense education in Art.

And maybe the reason why you despised acting like that kind of woman was also the reason why you loved acting like it; Because you were someone else, maybe for a couple of months - But it was enough, enough for you to forget about the shadows lurking behind you, to forget about the never ending nightmares of your childhood. Enough to keep yourself brave and strong-headed.

Enough to keep yourself sane.

—

sheismental masterlist

tom holland masterlist

Insanity (ALL CHAPTERS)

perm tag list:

@hurricaneofcolors @rayesimp @just-my-weirdness-and-i

@spidey-hood

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland blurb #tom holland headcanon #tom holland one shot #tom holland fic

143 notes · View notes

rosilyfucked · 6 years ago

Text

Of death notes and blue sunshines

I take these vitamin pills. I knew it was a bad idea. I hear them juggling in the bottle and this sound triggers all those thoughts. Makes me wonder “What would happen if I took them all?” And I know they’re not sleeping pills. They’re just vitamins. But the idea of swallowing something interpreting a common way of ending it, just feels so appealing. Today I dropped them all on my hand. Measured them. Fantasized me filling my mouth with them. And I closed my eyes for a moment. Like I could feel where this was going but I couldn’t visualize it with my eyes open. And like I was enjoying where this was going. Like it was rejuvenating. Thinking about ending it. And that part inside of me, that reasonable, sane, hopeful part that consistently tries to pull me from the pit of my own disintegration, dreaded how familiar and alluring this idea was.

You know days like this I don’t know where to turn. When the movies don’t help, talking doesn’t help, breathing doesn’t help. So I turn to writing. The only thing left, my last salvation every time I feel I’ve reached the bottom. There’s this pain you know, this burden on my chest and I’m heaving, I’m not talking and I’m grinning, I’m not smiling and I don’t want to sleep, but can’t really stay awake either. And the guilt you know, my always-and-forever motivation. Guilt isn’t even there anymore. And I, like, forget what anything feels like except for that cloud, this goddamn cloud above my head which does nothing. Nothing. And I can’t remember what being well was like or why I wanted it. Nothing seems like a far easier state to be in, man.

Next time anyone accuses me of having a head in the clouds, I must correct them. My head is not in the clouds. The clouds are inside my head. And I hope someone, finally, sees the fucking difference.

I hope tomorrow my brain will restart and set a new countdown. A week was enough, wasn’t it? I want to go back to being good again.

1 note · View note

specsnsarcasm · 6 years ago

Text

Happiness is a choice

Happiness is a choice. This statement might not make sense to you unless it already does, and to those of you for whom it doesn’t, you may already resent it. But hear me out...

People get kind of defensive when they hear a statement like that. I admit, I used to too. Especially when, in the thick of my depression, people would offer things like that up as unsolicited and entirely unhelpful "advice". It felt equal parts pointed, accusatory and dismissive -- like blame or even judgement. It was as though they thought I simply wasn’t trying hard enough, or like it was just that easy. I resented that they presumed to know anything about me or my struggles. I hated mindless platitudes like that. I’d see so-called “inspirational” quotes on my feed and think “oh, fuck off!” Life can't just be boiled down to a few easy phrases! And besides, if it were that easy, everyone would do it! I thought that people who believed those things lacked emotional depth or an understanding of true pain (which in hindsight was super arrogant!). It wasn’t until years later, and far removed from that context, that I was able to understand on my own and come to the same conclusion.

The catalyst for this was something *so* small. I woke up one morning feeling extremely, inexplicably run down (“run down” being my sanitized code word for the dreaded depression-word). It signaled the beginning of yet another depressive episode, for which I have previously been diagnosed, and which I have battled for most of my teen and adult life. Beginning with feeling "run down", I would sink deeper into that familiar numb, empty, nothing feeling, and stay there for a while (sometimes longer). This time, I chose to acknowledge that I was tired, and that perhaps my mood was linked to that. I decided to take a nap, called that day a wash, and recommitted to trying to feel a little better tomorrow. When I woke up, I didn’t feel *as* bad. In fact, I felt much better! It sounds almost stupid, because it’s such a small, obvious little action. "Sleep when you’re tired?" What a novel idea! /sarcasm. Except it wasn't obvious or little to me because I usually didn't do that! I usually suffered it out, believing my tiredness to be merely a symptom of my mood, rather than a cause (in depression it can be both). In addition to not being able to sleep, poor quality sleep, or sleeping too long, I would usually stay up and overthink or ruminate. (Maybe as punishment? (more on that later). In doing so, I would feel worse and fall even deeper. Instead, this was the first instance in which I was able to successfully head it off at the pass.

“You deserve to be happy. Now. Right now. Not tomorrow, or 20 years from now... Happiness is not some arbitrary future finish line.”

No, 'sleep' isn’t a magical cure for depression (though it is a contributing factor; and what therapists, doctors, and lay-people alike have been saying for years!). And it wasn’t happiness either... But it wasn’t unhappiness, which was something. That moment showed me the direct power of a choice I had made. I had actively stopped myself in the middle of a maladaptive pattern. If I could repeat that result with other mini-choices throughout the day, maybe I could have a good few hours? A good day? A good week? Repeat that long enough, and maybe the sum total of that could equal happiness?

I tried this “choice” thing in a few other areas of my life in the following days and weeks with things that would usually upset me or situations that caused me anxiety. "Instead of 'A', choose 'B'"-type scenarios. Some were more complicated than just choosing to sleep, but many weren’t. All had similar degrees of success, and I felt a bit better -- good, even! Granted, it wasn’t a grand, elated, overjoyed feeling of happiness that you see; but I did feel calmer, more present, even, and grounded. Remember in Mario when he gets hit by an enemy, how he turns transparent? That’s how I used to feel before: shrinking, impermanent, exposed; like the next defeat would end me. But now I was feeling more like solid-Mario. I felt more in control of my moods, and like I could handle scenarios, people, and problems as they came at me.

Happiness is a choice. Sometimes we're not ready to hear this. We don't believe it because we have a fundamental misunderstanding of what happiness actually is and looks like (hint: it’s not a feeling). We’ve conflated happiness with “joy” (a feeling) and "cheer" (a manifestation of joy); or else, have been conditioned to view it as 'sunshine and rainbows forever and a life devoid of conflict. This is not only totally unrealistic and impossible, it misses the point by miles. Other times, we’re not ready to even talk about being happy because we're not ready to be happy. We think we don’t deserve it, or that we are incapable of it. We're afraid because we think it won't last. It feels easier to be unhappy because happiness feels unfamiliar, to the point where we don’t trust it. Sometimes to be happy feels a constant upward struggle. It can even feel like a lie, or like something that was meant for others but not ourselves. We've learned to expect/accept unhappiness to the point where we almost embrace it; it's comforting because it's familiar. Maybe you’re scared of being happy because you don’t know who you’ll be if you’re not unhappy?

Everybody deserves happiness. YOU deserve happiness. Lemme say this again slowly: YOU. DESERVE. TO. BE. HAPPY. Now. Right now. Not tomorrow, or 20 years from now. Not once your life is “perfect”. Not once you’ve bought this thing or gotten that award; gotten into this school, gotten that job, gotten approval from your parents, your peers, that guy/girl, your boss; not when you’ve achieved this status or married that person, had X kids, bought Y house, Z car, etc. Happiness is not some arbitrary future finish line. It’s immaterial, it’s internal, and it’s now.

I go through periods when I understand all of this with such acute clarity, as though I were sitting in the the eye of a storm. But somehow it becomes cloudy again, and the point escapes me entirely. I forget, and struggle, and despair again. It's a process. And for the reasons I’ve mentioned, it might seem easier to sit in unhappiness, but easier isn’t better.

Here’s a hard pill to swallow: happiness isn't something that just happens to you. You actively have to do stuff to make it happen (which is why it can be so uncomfortable. Because we have to overcome our natural inclination to want to NOT do stuff). I know we think some people are just born happy, but that’s the biggest myth out there. It's a skill that is honed over time. It takes effort and practice. You don't know where a person started out or where they are in their journey, so don't automatically discount the amount of work someone has put into getting to there.

It’s not about cockeyed optimism or “the power of positive thinking” either. Happiness isn’t some mantra you tell yourself over and over again until you start to believe it. And blind optimism can be just as dangerous and maladaptive as blanket negativity. Even though happiness and optimism are not equivalent or interchangeable, I do think that the effects of positivity can have an impact on happiness. Especially if you’re starting from a place of pure negativity. A common misconception is that happy people are shallow, stupid or incapable of emotional depth. Happiness is not the absence of sadness, deep thinking, or deep emotions. It is neither the absence of dark, nor pure light. You can still be happy while experiencing the entire range of emotions from anger to joy, and yes, even or profound sadness, sorrow and grief. Happiness is, in fact, a higher order state. It's a state of emotional discipline and mastery that allows you to govern emotions and thoughts, allowing you to feel and experience them fully, deeply, but without allowing them to control you. It’s acknowledging what you're feeling and why you’re feeling it, but choosing how it affects you; choosing not to stay there indefinitely. Emotions fluctuate and change depending on the situation, but like climate is to temperature, happiness is the steady state.

Happiness is a choice. It's one that you recommit to again and again, with all of the little micro decisions you will make by the minute, hourly, daily, etc. to ensure this. Think of it as a strategy, rather than an end goal; a mindset, and the constant choices that you make under this mindset in order to align yourself with it. It’s not passive: it takes work, emotional discipline, maturity, and self-knowledge. It comes from within. No one can give it to you, find it for you, tell you where to look for it, or when. It looks different to everybody. You can’t buy it, or fake your way into it. You won’t just wake up one day and feel it... (again, it's NOT a feeling). And if you’re not ready, that’s okay too! This is neither a criticism, nor a judgement. It's just information. I think it is worth taking some time on your own (or with a therapist) to find out why it is that you’re unhappy, why you feel like you’re not ready to be happy or why you don’t want to be happy. (I’ve mentioned some possible reasons above, but you might have others. No one can tell you). But when you are ready to start the process, begin. Then begin again. Make one small choice, then another. And then another. Over and over again, and keep going. It takes a little practice, but it's entirely manageable. But in my opinion, getting to the place where you can accept it for what it is (and what it isn’t), and then decide to choose it for yourself is one of the hardest things we will ever have to do.

[Note: As always, these are just my own experiences and opinions. You don’t have to agree or identify with them. Everyone is different. If you’re suffering from depression, I encourage you to seek help. Talk to someone that you trust, and hold on].

#happiness is a choice #happiness #life lessons #psychology #mental health #specsy #advice & humour

4 notes · View notes

btshodown · 6 years ago

Text

Fearless (Hoseok x Reader)

Hey guys! I am here with a sequel-ish to Shameless absolutely no one asked for! :’) I blame Tae and his silken voice in Singularity because I couldn’t stop thinking about this since yesterday and have had the song on a loop. So after months of no inspiration and little motivation to finish the next chapter for Remember You, this little gremlin came to be in two days. This well be set in a sort of monologue on the OC’s side of the story. Let me know what you guys think!

Genre: Angstier than the first one and if you squint hard enough, some fluff at the end

Warnings: Details of domestic abuse, implied rape, implied suicide

Words: 3,651k

A loud, distant sound of glass shattering has your eyes snapping open to stare into the dark abyss enveloping your room and the familiar touch of cold dread pools into your stomach before it quickly surges through your veins. Your heart pounds frantically, resembling that of a hummingbird trapped in a small cage with no way out and you try your best to not make a single sound as more crashing can be heard outside your room.

Despite this, you don’t reach for your phone, you don’t try to hide nor cry for help; even going as far as to slowly sit up and reach into your night stand to grab onto a bottle of pills you sadly knew too well. You continue to ignore the loud slur of a man’s cursing slowly getting closer to your door and simply tip over the bottle to your cupped hand, dropping three 200 mg ibuprofen pills into it.

The sound of glass shattering against your door has you hesitating before adding a fourth pill onto your palm before you dryly swallow the small tablets down; the sting of it has long dulled over the months of the same routine.

You close your eyes briefly and steel your nerves, willing the fear to the recesses of your mind, to be locked away just as the bottle of pills you’re returning to your drawer. With a soft, shuddering breath you lower your back onto your mattress once more and simply wait; for the pain killers to numb out the pain you’d be receiving in just a few seconds and for the deliverer of your future agony to finally open your bedroom door.

Gone were the days where you fruitlessly tried to cover your ears and fall back asleep, hoping that your boyfriend would leave you alone if he saw that you were sleeping; but it only angered him. It made it so much worse and you could only blame yourself as you would cry and beg for him to forgive you for trying to ignore him; he never held back. After so many recurring nights and days, you no longer had a voice; the pain in your throat from your many sobs and screams was too much to bear any longer.

Especially when all your neighbors turned a blind eye and deaf ear on your pain and screams, because if they wouldn’t help, then who would?

With a loud bang, your bedroom door finally opens and lets in the obvious smell of liquor permeate the air; your boyfriend the cause of it as he leaves the light off as always and stalks into your room with surprisingly quiet steps. You don’t move and you don’t protest as he climbs onto the bed and harshly yanks the sheets off your body, before roughly encasing your throat in his big hands. A small breath leaves you as he tightens his hold and despite the darkness, you could make out his bloodshot amber eyes and soft boyish features that somehow still made your heart lurch.

Did that make you crazy? Somehow still loving the monster that once was a man?

Despite the fire licking at your skin, your soul feels cold – so unbearably cold – as you once again dive into that frozen lake and watch the ice trap you inside its freezing depths. It was the only way, you reasoned with yourself, it was the only way you could survive the hits and the biting grip he had on your naked body as he did with you what he wished. It was such a numbing routine that you had forgotten what it felt like to feel human, to feel love and safety as other humans did. Your sense of security was warped and your idea of love became so disgustingly skewed.

The continued ignorance of your “friends” and family had only worsened your mentality, as they claimed that it was normal for a man to be a little rough; that it was a sign of love when he would get so jealous of your guy friends that he decided to monitor your phone. That he was only showing his concern whenever he forbid you from going out and threw away all your clothes he deemed too revealing.

That sex wasn’t always supposed to feel nice or satisfying, that it was normal for him to use you as he pleased.

The sound was back again, that familiar ringing that never failed to crack the blanket of ice over the lake you dumped yourself in. It was strange, that ringing, it caused nausea to rise onto your abused throat from the anxiety and a cold rope of dread to strangle your fragile heart. But when that familiar rasp of a voice broke through the ringing, you felt the sun, if only for a fleeting moment. You felt alive once more as fresh air moved through your shriveling lungs and you desperately clung onto the feeling, greedily wanting it to stay forever with you.

“Are you okay, y/n? Did you have another nightmare?”

The sob leaves you before you could control it and before you knew it, your pillow was drenched with your endless tears; the pain was too much, it made you miss your frozen lake. Despite his question being left unanswered, the male on the other side of the line knew the answer; the almost weekly routine made him an expert. You weren’t sure how it happened or when, but somehow the street dancer you frequently saw in the subway became your closest friend, became the sun your icy soul so desperately needed. But he also became the secret spring meadow you had to hide from your boyfriend, and despite taking the necessary steps to make sure he never found out you were talking to another man, you still felt the fear seize your heart whenever you found the strength to call him after a particularly bad night.

Even so, you never told Hoseok – your dear, sweet Hobi – the truth and let him believe that you had recurring nightmares that awoke you at odd hours of the night. It was so easy to keep up the mask, to keep him at arm’s length and reject his offers to see each other outside of your normal commute to work; until it wasn’t.

Somewhere in the months of knowing him, you made a mistake – a horrible mistake that made you question what love really was – and you weren’t so sure you’d be able to survive the outcome.

Was love supposed to feel so safe? So warm? Was it not meant to feel like you’d fall off a precipice with no safety rope or netting? Leaving you with the anxiety and fear of knowing that your body would crash onto the ground with no cushion? The fact alone that Hoseok never demanded to see your phone or even demand an answer as to why you refused to see him outside of the subway brought a vice of uncertainty to your heart. Sooner or later he would snap right? He had to, it was how things went.

Only he never did. He never touched you unless you wanted to be touched, he never pried for answers you weren’t willing to disclose of and for a while he tried to ignore the obvious cracks in your soul. But then it changed and you were to blame; you became greedy to keep that ray of sunshine with you so that you would never forget again what it felt like to feel so warm.

It started so harmless; you bought an old phone that still had buttons and would load money into it every month with cash, knowing fully well that your boyfriend kept track of your bank statements. This is how slowly you let him in to the point your calls escalated to you calling at odd hours of the night, sobbing quietly into the receiver as you lied about nightmares. Phone calls, however, weren’t enough anymore for either of you and one day you caved into his recurring invitation to hang out. You lied to yourself that day, refusing to admit that the blinding smile he gave you that day didn’t make your heart melt.

You left for work as normal, and let your boyfriend know weeks in advance that your boss had a new “phone’s off” rule that couldn’t be avoided. He was angry at first, but he said no more as he left that day to go to his “friends” house. His cheating wasn’t lost on you and while before it created a deep hole in your chest, having Hoseok as a new friend helped to alleviate the pain. But with this it helped you that first time as you turned off your phone after calling in sick to work and left to meet up with Hoseok; you once again denied the feelings growing inside you as he took you to the beach.

Months passed with this new routine and you were slowly unburying your voice, letting it find the air once again as Hoseok asked endless questions about your interests. How long had it been since someone looked at you with their undivided attention and held adoration in their eyes? How long had it been since another man made you feel human?

Much too long.

However, as the months passed and you inevitably got closer to Hoseok – to your Hobi – so did the obvious tension of something between the two of you. You tried so hard, so very fucking hard, to not cave into the feelings, the heat and the temptation; you would not become a cheater too. You weren’t the monster you once called your only love; but you were wrong, so horribly wrong.

And perhaps, that realization alone made your soul raw with agony as the phantom pain griped it; that your boyfriend wasn’t a monster, he was a disgustingly flawed human just like how you turned out to be. Both of you used people, abused people and took from them what you wanted, albeit in different ways. Jung Hoseok – the sweet man who danced on the streets from his sheer passion for it – didn’t deserve such a toxic best friend like you, didn’t deserve to have his body used as temporary salve to your wounds. But you were too selfish to let him go, knowing that if you did you would either end your life or became nothing more than a soulless porcelain doll to your abusive boyfriend.

So you continued this self-destructive spiral, until the day came where Hoseok saw a particularly bad bruise on the nape of your neck; it seemed like you missed a spot when applying your concealer. His anger, sadness and desperation were so palpable in the air that it brought loud sobs to tear out your throat. You never wanted him knowing about your twisted love life and figuring out the truth beneath your feigned nightmares; the truth being that they were in fact so very real.

He begged you that night to leave your boyfriend, that he would protect you while you guys fought to have him arrested for domestic abuse; but you had stupidly refused. That night, the selfless part of you wanted Hoseok to leave you, to abandon you and be disgusted by you when he could clearly see that a part of you still loved the abusive man. Such a positive light shouldn’t be introduced to the darkest corners of reality, shouldn’t have to be exposed to the lengths humans took when morality was lost.

He didn’t.

Even after you had brokenly whispered to him how things weren’t always like this, that once upon a time your boyfriend was the epitome of the perfect partner; he went out of his way to take care of you and provide you with the best. You told him how you never figured out when it all started to change, it had been such a slow, gradual build up that the signs were hidden behind bushes of good intentions; until you were suddenly hurdling down a cliff with no measures to stop the fall.

At the end of it, that beautiful ray of light stubbornly refused to leave you and vowed to always be there for you, in whatever form you needed him. The declaration alone brought new tears to your swollen eyes and it prompted him to hold you into the night, grateful your boyfriend had left that weekend to Vegas.

But you saw his light slowly fading with each kiss, with each phone call at night and each silken touch; and it terrified you. You had lost yourself and had been awed at gaining him; but the dark surrounding you was slowly engulfing your sun and you were too scared, too selfish, to set him free.

Until that fateful night, where you had once again sent him a text at four in the morning, pleading for him to come and salve your aching soul; relishing in his touch and love he so freely gave you. But it all came crashing down as his desperation tumbled out of his battered soul and once again begged you to leave behind this life of bruises, forced intimacy and caged freedom. You couldn’t even look him in the eye when you had to reject his offer and swallowed down the bile in your mouth, knowing your will to protect him would crumble if you saw his heartbroken expression.

But he stubbornly persisted and with each passionate word that fell past his lips, the crack in your soul deepened, causing you to lash out in frustration. Frustration at your unfair position, at the shitty hand life had given you when all you had wanted was to be loved.

Your first regret from that night was turning from him because you inadvertently showed the fresh bruises decorating your back and the snap of his patience was deafeningly loud in your small apartment. Your second regret was uttering your automatic response of defending the man, knowing once the reply left your kiss swollen lips you had pushed the last thread of your sun’s kindness. Your final regret was staying silent as Hoseok tried to reason with you and give you the hand you had been praying for to help you escape this hole.

He took his hand back and finally walked away.

That night you cried and screamed, feeling your soul finally bursting from the agony because you knew he wouldn’t be back – you had abused his heart far too much. It wasn’t until your eyes became too swollen and your throat too raw did you stop and finally stepped back to watch your life as a stranger.

That same night you ran to your frozen lake from atop of the ice and looked down; your bruised face stared back.

Your soul left you the following months as Hoseok never came back, but somewhere deep in the ice of your heart you were glad. It made protecting him easier as you finally decided to stop the feeling of helplessness inside of you and did something you should have two years ago. You were so dependent on someone saving you that you neglected to see that someone you were looking for was staring back at you every morning when you covered the bruises.

You endured. You bid your time. You fought silently. You lost your fear.

Five months and you had won. You stood behind the protection of the police officers – with fresh bruises on your face and arms, but you stood fearlessly and free – and watched the man of your nightmares be taken away forcefully. You ignored his threats and insults, knowing you had compiled enough evidence to have him locked away and for you to be relocated to a different city under the protection of the police department.

It wasn’t until that same night where you were released to pack your things and you happily ran to seek out your sun, did you come to find out that he had moved cities nearly three months ago. He had finally been scouted by an agency and was chasing his dreams; dreams that no longer involved you.

You had swallowed your tears – you vowed to never cry for a man again, even if that man was the sun itself – and continued home to pack your things to leave behind everything. You told no one, not even your parents, your supposed friends or even your work; what was the point when they would see it in the morning news? And so, you left your small town and traveled to the busiest city in the country where the police weren’t so scarce and your abusive ex wasn’t there to threaten your safety anymore.

Spring was once again a season you began to adore and began to finally see again after years of winter. The ice of your lake began to melt and the grass started to grow out of the once cracked earth, making you question if the pain from last year truly was real and not imagined. It seemed so long ago that you were swallowing pills to dull out the pain of being beaten and used, but as a new year approached it became easier to accept what you had battled with.

No man was ever going to lay a finger on you or so much as control your life any longer; you held no fear and you were the sole captain of your actions.

“Y/n, sweetie, we have a new job for you!”

Your lips pull up into a smile as you hear your new boss address you affectionately and place the manila folder containing your new errands for today on the top of her desk. It’s been a full year since you started working here and you instantly fell in love with the all-female staff that you refused any other offers you received. Without saying a word, every female here understood one another and knew that similar circumstances brought them together at this very office.

You gently pick up the folder and flip through the pages of your assignment. “Thank you, I’ll go get my things ready.”

Your company may have been small, but it was one of the most sought after for interpreters and translators, especially by talent agencies. Every few months one of the girls there would be assigned to a company or agency to be their interpreter, depending on the language needed, before completing their task and returning home. After a year of building your courage and helping you to get past working with men, your boss finally deemed you ready to be set as a new interpreter. It brought warmth to your soul when your coworkers all gave you encouraging words and hugs, reminding you that you were more than capable to do this.

So you went home to gather some things you’d need in case the company you were temporarily employed for needed you to go overseas with them and made your way over to the building’s address. It was relatively small, you noticed silently as you paid the Uber and gazed up at the agency’s name; at least compared to its competition.

With a deep breath, you square your shoulders and quickly step inside, showing your ID to the receptionist to be given an all access pass. You follow one of their security up into the elevator and out to the hallways littered with small cubicles, before being lead in front of a door that had a glass pane fogged up from the heat inside the room. From outside you could hear the bass of music being played and the constant squeaking of sneakers on the floor as the soon-to-be idols practiced. The wince left you before you could control it as the door opened, letting all the humid air filled with sweat to hit you in the face as the security motioned for you to talk to the manager off to the side.

You give a quiet thanks and make your way inside, introducing yourself to the boys’ manager, feeling at ease despite his height – his demeanor was quiet, but his eyes held his warmth. For that you were glad and only hoped that the young men you’d be working with would be just as pleasant.

“Alright boys, let’s take a break so that you can meet our interpreter for the next two months!”

It was then that you felt so impossibly warm – warmth you never thought you would once again feel against your skin – and yet you were suddenly faced with your lost sun after all this time. You try your best to push back the tears and the sudden need to run into his arms, to let him know of how you had changed your life, how you had survived. That you no longer let anyone be the master of your choices and happiness, that without his love and devotion, you would have never gotten out of that frozen lake.

Were it not for the barely concealed joy and deep emotion in his eyes, you would have believed that he still hated you; but there was neither hate there nor disgust. Only promises of getting reacquainted and getting answers because you were suddenly not in Gwanju anymore, but here, in Seoul with him.

Perhaps this was a sign and maybe this was fate trying to tell you that life wouldn’t be quite so unfair anymore; and it was now that you vowed to never throw yourself away again. Jung Hoseok deserved only the best and you’d be damned if you didn’t reach the best version of yourself for him, so that you could finally give all of your love for him like it should have always been.

Spring was in full bloom and you no longer held fear in your soul.

You were free.

#JHope #Hoseok #Hobi #Bts #Hoseok fic #Bts fic #akanfslgnkjb I really should go to sleep now #Its almost 1 am and I have to wake up in 7 hours #Please let me know your thoughts <3 #Bts angst #Hobi angst #Jhope angst

7 notes · View notes

lydisms · 7 years ago

Text

Lydia & Talia || Chatzy

Summary: Lydia and Talia meet Death again and he gives Lydia another ultimatum with Talia’s life on the line. Taken place before this thread. Trigger warnings: drugs Tagging: @talblack

Lydia: "Hey, Tal. Would you slow down?" Lydia called out as she trailed behind her friend, running to try and catch up with the girl. This happened almost every time they were running for gym class, Lydia had to remind Talia that she shouldn't go that fast because not everyone had supernatural werewolf strength. Once she finally got next to Talia, they were running at the same pace but something caught Lydia's attention out of the corner of her eye and she slowed down. "Oh, no." Lydia mumbled, noticing that Death seemed to be looming behind a tree out on the trail that everyone ran for class. The last thing Lydia wanted was to go talk to him but if he got mad then he might hurt everyone else in class. Lydia sighed and turned to Talia. "I'll be right back." She said as she walked towards the man, knowing without even needing to turn around that Talia was most definitely right behind her.

Talia: Talia continued to run alongside Lydia, slowing her pace down to a jog as she glanced at the banshee. She tended to forget that not everyone could run at the same pace that she was glad Lydia reminded her, otherwise she would’ve continued to just lap everyone. But then the banshee seemed to notice something and Talia didn’t even hesitate to follow her as she furrowed her eyebrows and turned around. “Hey, wait,” She insisted as she frowned, wondering what it was that Lydia was seeing until she felt the same dreadful feeling in the pit of her stomach, and suddenly she was well aware of the situation. She tensed up and tried not to let her expression falter, but it was hard. Death nearly killing her the other day definitely freaked her out, and she was already reminding herself that she promised Lydia she’d keep her cool. She didn’t want a repeat of what happened in the morgue.

Lydia: Lydia turned around and immediately shot Talia a glare, hating the fact that her friend couldn't just let her wander off alone. Lydia knew she would do the same thing if the roles were reversed but she just really didn't want a repeat of what happened last time. "Stay behind me." Lydia whispered, not giving Talia much room to disagree as they left the trail and approached Death. Immediately he looked at Talia with a bit of disgust. "Oh.. you brought her, I see." He spoke and Lydia bit her tongue, just grateful that he didn't seem to be doing anything to get Talia away for the time being. "What do you want?" Lydia snapped just before he held out a bottle of painkillers for her. "Just giving you another present. I feel bad for how awful we hurt you the other day." And Lydia sighed, knowing Talia knew nothing about that. "Plus, I know you threw the other ones out. Don't you want to take them?" Death asked and Lydia shook her head, angrily knocking the bottle out of his hands. "No, I don't want these. Thank you for the offer but I'd really like to get back to class now." Lydia tried to take Talia and get them both the hell out of there but Death reached for both of the girls.

Talia: Talia didn’t falter when Lydia shot her a glare, knowing that she’d follow the banshee no matter what. Even if she planned on trying not to lash out at Death. As they approached him, she kept her fists at her sides and used all of her energy not to clench them. She wasn’t going to do what she did last time. As Death looked at her, a chill ran down her spine as she looked at him, wondering what he wanted. As soon as she saw the painkillers, she clenched her jaw as she quickly clenched her right fist and dug her claws into her palm to force herself to not react. She concentrated on the pain as she glanced at Lydia and shook her head slightly, not even sure what to do. As Lydia tried to usher them away, she flinched when she felt Death reach out for both of their arms, hating how freaked out she was as she closed her eyes tightly. It was what she’d been having night terrors that week afterwards, and it like she could still feel the same helpless feeling that she felt in the morgue. “Do you really think you can say no to me, Lydia?” He threatened with a raised brow as he tightened his grip on Talia’s arm and yanked at her a bit harder. She flinched again as she shook her head and glanced at Lydia, not wanting her friend to freak out even though she knew she would. “I could end her life with the snap of my fingers.”

Lydia: Lydia could feel her heart breaking into a million pieces as she started to have flashbacks of what happened the day they were at the morgue. She had hurt her friend and Lydia made a promise to herself that she’d never let it happen again. But she had come such a long way since using those painkillers. Lydia really tried to be stronger than that and she was so proud of all her progress over the last year. She couldn’t just say no, though. Talia’s life seemed to be on the line once again and Lydia hated that he kept using her friends against her, and now seemed to be using her only other vice. “Okay, okay! Just let go of her.” Lydia finally yelled after a moment. There was no other choice. She knew that Death was so adamant about tempting Lydia with painkillers because her mind would be much easier to control when it was altered by the substance. And one pill and she could be sent on another downward spiral where she couldn’t stop taking them. It’s why Lydia kept saying no repeatedly but this time it was different. She sighed, tears filling her eyes as she grabbed the bottle and took a pill. “One, Lydia? Really? I already know you used to take way more than that.” Death replied and Lydia cleared her throat before taking two more which seemed to satisfy him. She hated the familiar feeling of relief that washed over her when she took it.

Talia: Talia wished she could have done something to stop Lydia from having to take the painkillers, but she knew there was nothing she could do. She promised her friend that she wouldn’t try to do anything to counter Death after what happened at the morgue, and right now she was helpless again. Clearly Death hated Talia’s guts, and it was only because she was so protective over Lydia. She wasn’t going to let him get inbetween their friendship anymore, and right now all she could do was let this happen. She grimaced as Lydia swallowed a pill and shook her head slightly as she felt Death let go of her arm, then went back to Lydia’s side and rubbed her arm as she stayed quiet, knowing she couldn’t say anything.

Lydia: “I’ll see you around, Lydia. You take this.” Death said as he kissed Lydia’s cheek and handed her the bottle. This time she didn’t even try to throw it and simply placed the bottle in her pocket and rubbed her cheek once. “Next time keep the werewolf at home. I’m not going to be so nice to her.” Death shot a glare at Talia and then walked away, leaving Lydia standing there with her hands shaking. She blinked away a few tears and sighed, turning back towards Talia. “I need to go home.” Lydia said quietly after a moment. “My mom- she can’t.. no one can see me like this.” They’d get the wrong idea if they saw that Lydia was clearly high, and a tiny part of Lydia wanted to be alone with the other painkillers Death had given her anyway. She could already feel herself starting to relax, forgetting all of the pain and trauma that had happened over the last few weeks.

Talia: Talia’s first instinct was to snatch the bottle from Lydia’s hand before she could try to keep it, but she didn’t want to scare her friend like she’d done the last time she made a sudden movement and she didn’t think Lydia would take anymore. The banshee was better than that. “Okay.” She said quietly as she took a deep breath and swallowed. “Okay, at least let me take you home. You shouldn’t drive right now.” She stated as she walked off of the trail with Lydia and back into the school.

Lydia: Lydia nodded and waited for Talia to grab her things and then followed her friend into the car. She was silent the entire drive back to her house, her head spinning with different emotions. Lydia was so mad that Death seemed to control every aspect of her life and as much as she thought she could handle it on her own, Lydia was starting to wonder if maybe she’d been wrong. Now he took away practically the only thing she had left that she could control about her life by making her take those pills again. “You should get back to school. You can’t miss more class. Just tell my mom I wasn’t feeling well?” Lydia said once they pulled up to the Martin residence. “I’ll be fine. I’m-“ Lydia sighed. “Im sorry, Tal.”

Talia: Talia sighed at Lydia’s words, knowing her friend was absolutely right. She couldn’t afford to miss anymore school if she was going to graduate, no matter how badly she wanted to stay with the banshee and make sure she was okay. She hated that she couldn’t say right now but she’d make sure to come back. “Don’t be sorry, I’m okay. I’ll come back after schools out, okay? I’ll tell your mom you were feeling sick.” She sighed softly as she reached forward and gave the banshee a hug before dropping her off and leaving.

#talblack #talia #drugs tw #chatzy

1 note · View note

ellanainthetardis · 7 years ago

Photo

I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please do let me know!

[FF] or [AO3]

Chapter 23 : Short Of A Fireplace

“What are you doing?”

Haymitch froze, the curse still on his lips, and rubbed the back of his nape. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain that one. Half her beauty products had fallen off her dressing table and to the floor while he was struggling with the plug.

“Go back to sleep, it ain’t ready yet.” he grumbled.

They had gone to bed late the previous night. The stylist had stayed for dinner and Haymitch had to admit the man wasn’t bad company. Full of himself, yeah, but he didn’t look down on them and that was a nice change. Haymitch had always appreciated people who could use their brains and Harwyn clearly was one of those. He was no match for Cinna but it was the best they could have gotten.

After he had left though, Effie had insisted on gathering everyone in the living-room. She had told the children the next day would be free and that they should use it to relax. Peeta had protested a little but she had convinced him easily enough – her or Katniss’ pleading look. Unfortunately, it had also meant she wanted to go over a few things before the interviews just in case.

Haymitch had dozed off halfway through the endless list of recommendations she gave the girl. As for him… She just begged him not to be his usual snarky self. Sarcastic enough to make the audience laugh but not harsh enough to antagonize was the thin line he would have to walk on.

It had been late by the time they had retired to her room and they had fallen asleep almost immediately. He suspected Effie had taken a pill while he wasn’t looking because she hadn’t stirred all night, not even when he had woken up short of breath, trying to grasp enemies who weren’t there. She had been lucky to remain still enough to not make herself a target to his unconscious mind.

“Not ready?” she repeated, confused and slightly out of it – which confirmed his sleeping pills theory. He finally managed to plug the appliance in just as he heard her feeling around the nightstand for the clock. “Oh my! Is it really nine thirty? I did not mean to sleep that long.”

“Needed it.” he dismissed, checking that he hadn’t forgotten anything.

She slipped out of bed and wrapped her arms around his waist, plastering her chest to his back and pressing a good morning kiss on his shoulder.

“What happened to my bottles?” she frowned when she caught sight of the mess. “And why, in Panem, would you bring a toaster in my room?” A toaster that really didn’t want to work, he thought to himself. She reached around him for the plate full of bread and her frown deepened. “You have no idea how bringing breakfast in bed is supposed to work, do you?”

He rolled his eyes and detached her arms from his waist so she would stand next to him.

“Ain’t breakfast, sweetheart.” he mumbled, keeping his eyes on the appliance. “We’re short of a fireplace. Had to improvise.”

“A fireplace?” She sounded completely flabbergasted. “Haymitch, you are not making any…”

“We’re toasting bread.” he cut her off firmly. “Together.”

It took her a second to catch up. “Oh.” She flushed. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” he mocked, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. “I mean… We can just toast bread if you like that better, I guess. Thought it was something you…”

“Yes.” she interrupted him and, when he finally found the courage to meet her eyes, they were shiny and she was hastily blinking that away. “I… I would like that very much.” She looked down at herself and tugged on the short blue nightgown so she could inspect it. “Should I change? Should we change?”

She was eyeing his sweatpants and his lack of proper shirt critically.

“Let’s not make a fuss, yeah?” he winced. He wasn’t about to get dressed up for a hasty toasting made with a toaster instead of a fireplace. All the more so given that their time was precious and he didn’t intend to waste any second of it. “We toast. We fuck. We never talk about it again.”

Her excitement dimmed a little. She made the iris shaped ring turn around her finger, lowering her eyes. “You do not have to do this to please me or…”

“I want to.” he said before he could think twice about it. He was going to die. What was there to lose? It was awkward. It was exactly why he preferred avoiding that sort of effusions. He held out his hand, palm up. “If you want to.”

She placed her hand in his and smiled. It was bright and genuine. It made her look younger. He found himself smiling back in answer.

“How does it work?” she asked, studying the plate full of bread and the toaster with some interest.

Not like this, he almost answered. It wasn’t supposed to be a cheap thing on a dressing table. It was supposed to be meaningful and symbolic.

Lighting a fire, sharing a meal cooked on that fire… A warm home where no one would ever go hungry, that was what it was supposed to bring to a marriage. More accurately, the hearth represented the home and the bread was supposed to be for love.

He wondered what it meant that their hearth would be an old toaster he had stolen from the kitchen and their bread some stuff that came straight from a plastic wrapping.

He placed the bread in the appliance and guided her hand to push on the button on the side.

“We light the fire together.” he said, after clearing his throat.

He felt ridiculous. This was the most ridiculous thing he had ever done.

It figured it would be because of her, for her. So she could have something… more to keep with her after he was gone. So she would forever know and not doubt what she had meant to him. It would probably have been better for her to forget and move on but he knew Effie. She might pretend everything was fine and that she was happy but… It would take more than that for her to stop clinging to his memory.

She would eventually.

She loved life too much.

She would find someone else, he believed that with every fiber of his being, he just hoped it would be someone worthy. And he tried not to be jealous of that man who wasn’t in the picture yet. He tried. But he failed.

Effie giggled when the bread popped back up properly toast. “And now?”

“Now…” he hesitated, grabbing one of the toasted slices and wincing because it burned his fingers. He blew on it and brought it close to her lips. “Bite.”

“Not something you say often when you put things in my mouth.” she grinned.

“Sassy.” he accused. The spark that was dancing in her eyes almost made him forget about the whole thing. But then she bit down on the toast with appropriate seriousness. He caught the wayward crumbs on her lips and leaned in to kiss her. That wasn’t really part of the ceremony but she wouldn’t know any better and they were taking liberties as it was. “Now you feed me.”

She took the remaining toast and imitated him by bringing it closer to his lips, one hand cupped underneath so no crumbs could fall on the carpet. He bit down with gusto, more hungry than he had realized. She raised on tiptoes once she had swallowed to press a soft kiss against his lips.

“Are we married now?” she whispered.

“Almost there.” he snorted. “Now, I’m supposed to say wife. And you’re supposed to answer…”

“Husband.” she supplied, grinning so hard it must have hurt – or powered the entire Center for a year. “And now? Are we married?”

“There’s the small matter of the consummation.” he smirked.

She giggled. “Oh, no… What a dreadful prospect!”

“Right?” he chuckled, running his hand over the silky fabric of her nightgown, shamelessly groping her.

“Should I play the frightened virgin for you?” she hummed.

He scooped her up bridal style in a swift move, making her scream in surprise.

“I like the minx act better.” he shrugged, forcing her to tighten her grip around his neck.

He tossed her on the bed and kicked off his sweatpants. She was still laughing when he kneeled between her legs and ran his palms on her inner thighs, pushing the fabric of her nightgown up. She arched her back to help him take it off and there she was, glorious in her nakedness.

“You’re gorgeous.” he said because as confident and vain as she was she never really believed it. He planted a kiss on her stomach, up her ribcage... He nuzzled her breasts and captured a nipple in his mouth…

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with her.

Everything.

He wanted everything but he knew he needed to choose because they would never cram everything in a single day.

He sucked on her pulse point, nipped at the vulnerable skin…

He cupped her breast, took a moment to enjoy the feeling of her hard nipple against his palm…

“Haymitch…” she breathed out.

He looked up into her blue eyes and he felt his mouth go dry. Her gaze was clouded with lust, she was pouting, frustrated by his inability to decide and actually do something, and… She was hot. She was hot and perfect and his for the rest of his short life.

She was his.

He hooked his elbow under her knee and forced her leg up.

She blindly reached behind her, braced herself for what was coming, and it only spurred him on.

The first thrust was brutal and she mewled in a mix of pleasure and pain. She licked her lips and wrapped her other leg around his thigh, urging him on.

It was almost a punishing pace.

Rough and violent that she started whimpering and moaning as soon as he had begun.

After a few minutes, she was incoherent and he pulled out of her, letting her confusedly feel around for his body.

“Haymitch.” she begged. “I need… I need…”

He rolled her on her stomach and she simply lifted her ass in the air in the oldest invitation in the world.

He didn’t resist it.

She came with a cry after a few thrusts and collapsed against the mattress, making him slip out of her. She was boneless and limp under him but she parted her legs without protest when he rested his weight on her back. The angle wasn’t awesome, not deep enough, and she wouldn’t come again but it was enough friction to do the trick for him.

He licked the sweat off her shoulder blade only to suck the skin in and to bite down. She wasn’t in any shape to protest so he had his fun leaving enough hickeys and marks that she wouldn’t be able to wear a bare back dress in a while.

He was so busy staking his claim that his climax took him by surprised.

He reached his release with a groan and remained slumped on her, his head propped on her nape. Her hair was tickling his face but he didn’t mind.

This, right there, was bliss.

Her hair in his face, the smell of her shampoo, the taste of her sweat in his mouth, her warmth surrounding him, clenching him still, the unmistakable fragrance of sex in the air…

He never wanted to move again.

He wanted time to stop.

Right there.

Right then.

He wanted time to stop.

He felt around until he found her left hand on the pillow and he entwined their fingers. The ring dug into his palm. An unexpected comfort.

He must have been crushing her but she didn’t protest his weight or nudge him off her. She seemed content to be crushed, truth be told, to feel his weight on her, the sensation of his stubble rasping against her skin with every breath he took…

He honestly thought they could have remained like that for most of the day if her stomach hadn’t grumbled. She shifted a little and he slid to the side with a soft regretful sigh.

“Don’t go.” she requested in a hurry, immediately snatching an arm around his chest and huddling close to him.

“Not going anywhere.” he mumbled against her hair, wrapping himself around her like an octopus. Legs tangled together, tight embrace… “You’re hungry?”

“It can wait.” she dismissed.

After the third time her stomach made noises, he chuckled and tugged on her arm to escape the bed. She whined in protest but he pressed a long messy kiss against her mouth. “I’ll be back.”

He could do some things right, he decided, as he strolled to the kitchen wearing sweatpants that hung low on his hips. He came back with a tray loaded with entirely too much stuff for the two of them. He hated wasting food but he figured there were days when he could indulge.

She had been dozing off but she perked up when he nudged the door closed behind him with his foot.

“Now, that is what breakfast in bed should look like.” she praised.

She jumped on the muffins as soon as he had carefully set the tray in the middle of the bed. He was content to sip his coffee and watch her as she swallowed up half the plate of toasts with a generous amount of strawberry jam. Sex first thing in the morning always made her famished. It was one of her quirks and he loved it. He wasn’t sure why precisely because it was inconsequential but he loved it all the same. Just like he loved the way she automatically extended an arm in front of him before crossing a street because he had a reckless tendency to walk straight into traffic without checking for cars. Just like he loved the way she drummed her nails against her thigh when she was deep in thought.

“Do not stare at people when they eat, Haymitch.” she rebuked. “It is rude.”

“You’re hot.” he replied, nonplussed.

She blinked but took it in stride.

Trouble arose when she insisted on him eating something. She tried to force feed him a muffin but he really wasn’t hungry and it ended up with the tray being pushed aside and him having something quite different for breakfast.

He tried to chase the thought that it might be the last time he ate her out of his mind but it remained there, like a background chatter. He made it last just to enjoy it a little bit more. He brought her on the verge of orgasm only to delay it a while longer…

They stayed in bed the whole day, like they sometimes used to do after Twelve had lost the Games and they wanted to pretend the outside world didn’t exist.

They cuddled.

They touched.

They kissed.

They had sex.

Haymitch was in that state of boneless hollowness that only came with a thorough fuck.

Her lips ran on each of the scars on his back, mouthing the three words he never allowed her to say aloud against the battered skin. When she was done she rubbed his sore muscles, sometimes coupling the massage with licks, kisses and bites…

He let her ride his face.

They had never done that before, the lack of control on his part… It made him panic at first but she was enjoying it so much that he soon got into it. He still liked it a lot better once she slid down his body. That round was lazy. She remained slumped on his chest as their hips slowly did all the work.

They were too exhausted to be wild.

It was slow but almost frantic at the same time. Desperate perhaps. As if they were determined to take everything they could even if their bodies died in the process.

He wasn’t sure they had ever done it so often in one day. He wasn’t sure where he was finding the stamina either. Maybe knowing it was his last opportunity for a real sex feast was doing miracle for his virility.

“We should have dinner with the children.” she hummed, around seven.

“You really think you can sit through a three courses dinner?” he snorted. He hadn’t exactly been oblivious to all the wincing and the wriggling she had been doing for the past half hour. She was sore, he figured, and he understood. He was a bit sore too.

“I am starving!” she complained. “And we can get some whipped cream and chocolate for dessert. If you are a good boy, I will let you eat it on me…”

“Food kink is your thing.” he retorted, wrapping his arms around the pillow and burying his face in it.

“Then I will eat it on you.” she grinned, swinging her legs off the bed.

“Where are you going?” he grumbled, sneaking an arm around her waist to hold her back. “Dinner’s not for a half hour.”

“I need a shower.” she sighed.

“No.” he sulked, tightening his hold.

“Haymitch, I reek of sex.” she frowned. “I need…”

“You reek of me.” he cut her off, nuzzling the small of her back only to bite down on it. Her back was a mess of reddish marks of teeth and the occasional scratch. There were some bruises shaped like his fingers on her hips too. He probably shouldn’t have been as proud of his handiwork as he was. He bumped his nose against the new mark. “Mine.”

It was a primitive growl and he felt her shiver. Not of fear or cold. She was aroused.

“How about I let you play with me in the shower?” she purred. “Would that be a suitable concession?”

His tired brain mulled that over and he scoffed. “That’s just a trick to get me to wash up.”

“I never claimed there weren’t additional benefits.” she chuckled. Her nails were up and down his forearm and it made it hard for him to think. He was tired. He felt good. Sated. “Come on, darling.” she coaxed, leaning down to pepper his jaw with kisses. “There will be no time to properly share a meal tomorrow… I want to enjoy this last one with the children.”

He let out a long deep breath to let her know she was being annoying – mainly because she was right. “Fine.”

He rolled out of bed with some difficulty.

The shower, all things considered, wasn’t such a bad idea. They fooled around but they didn’t actually do anything. Later on, maybe, they would be recovered enough to enjoy each other’s company but right then, he didn’t think he could have gotten it up if his life had depended on it. Warm water on their sweaty skin was bliss though.

He didn’t see the point of getting dressed when it would only be the four of them so he ignored her arguments and pleas and stuck to his sweatpants and a shirt. He lied on the bed and dozed off while she got ready, pampering herself with far too much make-up for the occasion.

Having dinner with the kids was nice, though. They seemed happy. They were a bit evasive on what they had done with their afternoon. Katniss kept toying with her hair and avoiding everyone’s eyes. Peeta’s cheeks were a bit flushed and, if he did meet Haymitch’s eyes, he soon averted them.

Haymitch smirked but didn’t tease them about it.

They tacitly kept to light topics. Nobody ever mentioned the Games, the interviews or the arena.

It was… relaxing.

They joked, they teased each other, they laughed…

They lingered at the dinner table long after dessert had come and gone – although he did notice Effie making a murmured request to the Avox girl so he figured there would be whipped cream, chocolate and strawberries waiting in her bedroom.

It was late enough when Effie made a show of being tired and going to bed early. Haymitch didn’t bother, the kids weren’t interested in whatever their mentor and their escort were going to do anyway, they were too busy making eyes at each other.

Katniss disappeared in the living-room and Haymitch caught Peeta’s arm before he could follow.

“You need… stuff, boy?” he asked, trying to be tactful.

The kid’s ears burned crimson.

“No, I’m good.” Peeta mumbled, staring at his shoes.

He patted his shoulder with a snort and went back to his escort’s bedroom.

Effie was sitting at her dressing table, the toaster had been pushed aside, and she was removing the layers of make-up off her face. She looked up when he stepped in and she grinned, nodding at something behind her.

At the tray loaded with sweet things, he figured. He chuckled a little but flopped down on the bed, happy to let her eat anything she wanted on any part of his body.

“You’re never gonna guess what…” he taunted.

“The children had intercourse.” she deadpanned, applying a generous amount of lotion on her face. She ruffled her hair, checked her reflection in the mirror, and then turned the stool around to study him, looking absolutely too cocky. “Do you think I was born yesterday? Katniss was practically glowing.”

“Thought you would scream your head off.” he admitted, a bit disappointed. He had been looking forward to seeing shock on her face.

“Under normal circumstances, I absolutely would.” she granted. “Given how we chose to spend our day however…” She shook her head sadly. “They’ve grown up since we met them, don’t you think? Being with Peeta all week… He has a man’s bearing now. I cannot say Katniss is as mature as I would wish but…”

She let her voice trail off.

“It’s their last day.” he shrugged.

And it wasn’t their place to judge what they did with it.

“Exactly.” she hummed. “Now… Where were we?”

She stood up and unzipped her dress.

What else could he do but watch?

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #prompt

27 notes · View notes

mylifeasavetstudent · 7 years ago

Text

Nerves About Ross

6/22/17

I heard I was accepted 3 weeks ago, but I’m still waiting to hear about whether I start in September 2017 or January 2018. I should know within the next 5-6 weeks - which could give me only 3-4 weeks to get ready and move down there.

Trying to get my thoughts in order, here are some of the logical and illogical things I'm scared about in regard to starting Veterinary School and in regard to moving down to St. Kitt’s. I’m sure some are normal and shared by most students, but I’m sure some are me just being a whiny 23-year old New York girl.

_____________

1) Packing. (Overpacking, underpacking, forgetting). How am I gonna fit everything in two suitcases? I plan to use vacuum seal bags and bring the two biggest overweight suitcases and a carry-on that I can. I just keep thinking about all the bulky stuff - kitchenware, bedding/pillows, shower/beach towels, steel-toed farm boots, shoes/clothes, toiletries, makeup/hair/cosmetics, electronics, books/school supplies. I went away to undergrad college about 30 minutes away and lived on an on-campus dorm/apartment for 4 years. However, I was in a big city, and could easily get anything I needed down the block. I was also so close to home, that I often went home on the weekends, and could pick up anything I needed. Also important to note that I could use Amazon, unlike St. Kitt’s. Every time I moved in/out, it took about 2-3 car loads of stuff!

2) Buying textbooks/school supplies.

I guess I should wait till I get to the island to get books? Do they have a school bookstore? Will other students be selling them? I worry if I wait till I get down there, I won’t be able to find them.

Should I order them in advnace and pack them? I worry this will take up too much space/weight in my suitcase. Should I order them in advance and have them shipped to St. Kitt’s? This would probably be super expensive, and what if they take too long to get there or go to the wrong location?

3) Buying a car (getting license/insurance/mechanics, etc.)

When should I buy a car? Second semester? I’m worried I’ll be taken advantage of and pay a lot of money for a really crappy car. I’m nervous about driving a dangerous car. I’m nervous about going through all the processes of getting a license, insurance, legally buying the car, etc. I love my US car and I’m gonna miss it and hate leaving it at home for a few years! I’m also terrified to find a reliable St. Kitts mechanic, since I’ve heard horror stories about being overcharged and taken advantage of. Mechanics who “fix” your problem, but purposely create more. Criminal mechanics who steal your car and sell parts. Agh.

4) The bus system/traveling.

Super nervous about figuring it out and navigating it while I don’t have a car yet. What if I get stranded in some bad area alone as the sun sets?!

5) Food shopping (bugs, giardia).

I've heard horror stories about food on grocery store shelves being rancid and expired. I’ve been told to check the dates on everything before buying it - even milk and cheeses. I’ve been told about boxes of pasta full of bugs and peanut butter full of worms. I’ve also heard there is giardia and mycoplasma in the tap water? Definitely scared of that. Is this true of bottled water or other drinks?

6) Bugs/centipedes/spiders/ticks.

I am terrified of bugs. The pictures I see of giant spiders, moths, and aggressive, hard-to-kill venomous centipedes in homes/beds/clothes give me absolute nightmares. I’m also scared of ticks and tick-borne diseases due to all the outdoor activity.

7) Living arrangements.

The uncertainty here is killing me. I know I'll be living in a dorm my first semester, but that’s only 3 months. And will I be living alone? With 2 roommates? 3? How do I apply? I’m nervous to be living alone - but what if I get roommates I hate?

8) Wild animals/monkeys/sea animals/hiking.

Are there dangerous wild animals? What about the monkeys? What about in the ocean? Are there aggressive fish/octopi? Do I need to worry about jellyfish? Sharp sea urchins? I know there are a lot of great hikes - but I'm an inexperienced hiker. Do I need to be scared of animals on the trails? What about tick-borne diseases? What about being robbed/attacked by humans on the trial? Or getting lost in the woods with no cell signal? I don’t even know what clothes to wear or what hiking shoes ARE! HELP.

9) Personal Safety/Being burgalarized.

I’ve heard that as long as you are generally street smart, you should be okay. But I also hear horror stories of native drug deals gone wrong right near St. Kitts students - of guns shots and murders. I’ve heard of armed car jackings, robberies, rapes. I’ve heard of break ins and burglaries. Definitely nervous about personal safety. Even if just my STUFF is stolen - I’m so nervous I'll lose expensive items, as well as personal valuable like photos and class notes. I’m investing in personal property insurance that extends to St. Kitts, as well as external hard drives to copy all my stuff. Do I need to buy a pocket knife or mace or something?

10) Cell phones.

I still don’t really understand this concept. So I can bring my iphone, and simply put it in airplane mode and turn on the wifi? That way I can use iMessage, email, Facebook messenger, WhatsApp, viver, etc. for phone calls/text - but, it will only work when there is wifi around. This way, I won’t be charged an exorbitant amount for international cell service. Should I stop paying for my phone plan?

I’m also told you’re given an old block phone from Ross for calls to other students and businesses on the island.

11) Massive debt.

Yep. Probably gonna be in $325,000 of debt and start at $40,000 a year while I have clients scream at me about how rich I am and don’t care about animals.

12) Failing out.

Definitely scared of vet school being “too hard” and failing out. I know I’m a good student and I’m planning to study my ass off - but this fear is still there.

13) Living on my own.

Like I said, I lived about 30 minutes from my house for four years in undergrad college. I could go home on the weekends, and ask my mom for help with anything. I lived on campus, so I had maintenance and security staff always present. I never lived off campus. I also lived with 1-3 roommates every year, and always shared a bedroom - so I was never completely alone.

14) Making friends and knowing no one.

Definitely a big fear - but everyone else seems to manage it, right? I guess when you’re all in a completely new country with no friends/family, everyone’s a bit more open.

15) Logistics - setting up a bank account, loans, FAFSA, paying pills, receiving monthly loan allowals, visas, passports, customs, flights, vaccines.

SO MUCH TO DO.

16) Rabies vaccine

It’s gonna hurt, isn’t it? What other vaccines do I need? Can I get them on the island? Is it cheaper?

17) My dog.

My dog is 13 with CKD. I’m terrified that when I get on that flight, it’ll be my last time seeing her. ):

18) Mail system.

Seems very complicated and expensive. I’ve heard people dig through your personal mail right in front of you. And SO. EXPENSIVE. Also gonna greatly miss amazon.

19) Disease (Zika, HIV, Lyme, parasites - vaccines)

Definitely scared of getting some crazy topical diseases that we don’t have up here in NYC. Definitely scared of parasites - is that gorgeous water there safe to swim in? Not just the oceans/seas, what about lakes? I don’t need some crazy vagina parasite swimming into me or accidentally swallowing some giardia. Or is just the drinking water dangerous?

20) The health system (getting insurance, birth control, allergy shots, hospital visits)

Trying to figure out how to continue my birth control and allergy shots while I'm down there. Apparently my birth control is $4/month over the counter down there. Apparently Ross Health Services can administer my allergy shots, but I’ll have to bring the refrigerated vials down from NYC with me, and have them changed out every 9-12 months. God knows how much that would cost to ship - might be cheaper for me to just fly up and back and get em!

Definitely nervous about the quality of health care and emergency health care down there. I heard chickens roam the hospital. Hoping to get all my general/preventative care done on my breaks back home.

21) Being okay with “island time” (everything being closed)

I’ve lived my entire life in a busy city - nothing closes, ever. Weekends, nights, holidays - there’s always somewhere I can stop and get food/drinks. Adapting to there being no drive throughs or quick delis to stop into when I had 5 minutes before class is gonna be rough. And so is realizing that by 5pm on a Friday, I’m screwed until 8am on a Monday for any business I need to go to or contact. Especially dreading this with a car breakdown.

22) Not being able to find things from the US (Certain drinks, snacks, cosmetics)

Again, this is just something I’m gonna have to adapt to - but I will miss it!

23) Deciding when I can afford to go home.

I have no idea if I should go home after every semester? Is that something people normally do? Or once a year?

From what I'm reading on flight websites: It’s gonna be about a $400-600 flight ($1000-1200 round trip), take about 5 hours (10 hours both way) and need to have 1-2 stops. With the stops, it’ll be about 7-22 hours one way (14-44 hours round trip). Ugh.

24) Not taking advantage of all the great opportunities/trips available.

I’m scared I’m gonna be so overwhelmed with classes and exams, that I’ll miss out on some of the great extracuricular activities, clubs, sports, games, hikes, etc. Or the great “vacation” trips abroad available on breaks.

25) Second semester - rent, laundry, landlords, safety, finding roommates.

Definitely scared of moving on to second semester and out of the dorms where I'll be pressured to find a safe, convenient, cheap apartment. I’ll have to move all my stuff (how? rent a car?), pay bills, pay rent, deal with a landlord, all for the first time in my life. And I’m definitely scared about picking the “Right” roommates to live with.

26) Restaurant food/native food

How is the food there? I’m unfortunately not a huge seafood fan, but not averse to trying the native food. However - is it safe? Should I make sure I ask for no ice (water parasites)? Is there a possibility of undercooked meat/seafood or spoiled/expired meat/seafood? Is there a possibility of parasites in the food?

27) Hobbies

I’ve been going to school part time and working full time the past year, and I haven’t participated in any of my hobbies in over a year. I love learning foreign languages and I love horseback riding - and I haven't had time (excuse excuse) or money to do either. I worry this will just continue on in veterinary school, as I’ll be even more stressed, and have even less time and less money. Is there even any horseback riding availability down there? I mean, I can’t really pack all my language books (guess I can do a lot online), and I definitely can’t pack all my riding stuff (boots, helmet, clothes, saddle, etc. etc.)

28) Fun one: So when do I change my blog name from mylifeasaPREvet student to mylifeasaVETstudent? I also think I’m gonna start a website blog about life on the island - no only for future nervous students (like me right now) - but for my friends and family to see via Facebook. Don’t exactly wanna share all my tumblr info on Facebook! Best website for a blog?

#ross #ross vet #rusvm #ross university school of veterinary medicine #st kitts #st. kitts #st kitts and nevis #st. kitt's #vet school #vet student #rossie #rossies #advice #help #Caribbean school

5 notes · View notes