#i need a cigarette so so so so fucking bad
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
wizzdot · 2 days ago
Text
Sunshine
Description: just an idea I had. Might make it a series. Might not. Reader’s callsign is “Ray”. TW - Reader is depressed and has been through some shit.
Not decided who I’m going to make the main love interest, if anyone at all. Hell, not even decided if it’s worth continuing. Hit me up with ideas if you like what you read…
Tumblr media
The rain hammers against the living room window. The window of your shitty, little rented flat in a dodgy, shitty area. It was cheap though. And it was a roof -albeit a temperamental, leaky one - over your head.
It was your decision, after all. You could still be slaving away as a soldier. Giving your all, with no reward. What had you even been fighting for, anyway? Oh yeah! Arrogant men wanting to play a game of chess with your life. Nah. You’d choose your shit flat and shit job, thanks.
The bottle of cheap wine looks real nice right about now, what with the rain not letting up. But you hadn’t done a food shop for two weeks, and you’d used your last packet of instant noodles last night. Shit.
Your jacket is still damp from this morning, you notice, feeling regretful for not hanging it up over the radiator as you zip it up. It’s not as if you allow yourself the expense of using the central heating anyway. You tuck the stray bits of hair, that were poking out, underneath the hood and brace yourself.
“Once more into the void” you tut lamely to yourself, before stepping into the rain, on the hunt for dinner. ‘Goin’ fuckin’ mad, talking to myself now’ you roll your eyes at the voice in your head, sick to the back teeth of your failing life.
The familiar, chipped door of the local corner shop jingles as you enter. You stamp the wet off of your boots on the dirty mat at the door, not that it made a jot of difference to the trail of wet you left in your wake.
“Hello you!” Ravi, the (overly) cheery, elderly shopkeeper shouts. I nod, sending a tight lipped smile in response to his greeting. “This rain, eh! It’s pouring down! Madness out there!” his accented voice says chattily, as you try to disappear behind a shelving unit stacked with tinned soups.
“Yeah, mad” you grit out, monotonously.
“Chatty as always, eh?” - “yep” good god, please stop talking to me! Not in the mood..
You grab two tins of soup, and three 29p noodle packets and head back to the counter to pay. Ravi scans your selection through and looks up at you with a raised eyebrow, awaiting something else. You sigh. “The norm, Ravi, if you will” you say. “Thought you might have quit! Bad vice to have, a young thing like you..”
You choose to ignore that comment, as he slides the packet of cigarettes over the counter. “£16.49”. You pull the slightly soggy twenty from your pocket and hand it over and he quickly counts your change and you’re on your way, the ding of the shop door sounding your departure.
The rain has somehow worsened, so you decide to run the mile and a half back to your flat, pissed off that you’d had to put any effort in, whatsoever. You’ve kept your fitness levels up since your military days. You huff a laugh at your own expense. Knew the morning jogs before work were worth while.. you think to yourself.
Work. Fuck. You’d not finished until 5am this morning, hence the wet jacket. Drunkards had crawled in after winning the football match, refusing to leave until gone 3am, and leaving a shit tonne of mess behind that needed cleaned up. You got decent tips though. Tips that your landlord would snatch off of you thanks to the fact that you were a month behind on rent payments. Easy come easy go, you thought to yourself, as you jog back to the flat.
You get back in record time but halt abruptly when you reach the door. The rain has, by this point, soaked completely through your jacket, but something else has caught your attention. The door handle (which lost its spring a while ago) is slanted down. Someone has visited while you’ve been gone.
“Fuck” you whisper to yourself, before quietly shoving the pack of cigs down your bra to try and keep them dry, and gently stacking the tins and packs of noodles into your post box, for safe keeping, while you investigate..
On second thoughts..
You grab one tin, and carry it as a weapon. Just in case, right? Old habits die hard…
You step in, silently, and notice the wet footprints leading to the kitchen. They weren’t even trying to be subtle, what the actual fuck?!
Slinking towards the kitchen, acting every bit the trained operative that you once were, you round the corner, ready to beat the intruder to ever lasting shit with your soup can, when your eyes meet something - or someone, for that matter - that draws the breathe from your lungs.
“Get out” you all but growl.
The intruder huffs a confident laugh.
“You’ve not changed much, apparently.. a ‘hello’ would be polite, Ray” the figure, with their back turned, lounging on your one remaining wooden chair, that you use to hang your washing on to dry, teases.
“I don’t go by Ray anymore. Now, get out” you spit, marching back to the door to grab your remaining tin of soup and packs of noodles, no longer threatened by the unknown, but instead, utterly pissed off at the fact they’re wasting your time.. You return to the kitchen, intruder still unmoved, and slam the tins down on the counter to try and convey the fact that they weren’t welcome..
“You’ve got about 10 seconds..” you warn.
“Until…?”
“Until I call your superior..”
“He knows I’m here..”
“I’ll call his superior, then” I threaten.
“You’ll call Kate? T’was her decision to send me..”
“Look, Lieutenant. I don’t give a single, steaming shit about whatever it is that you’ve gotten yourselves caught up in, this time. And if you think I want to be involved, you’re heavily mistaken. And it’s laughable that Kate chose you to try and retrieve me.. didn’t even think to send Gaz…? The only one of you wankers that I actually, borderline, tolerated?” You laugh bitterly.
“I really mean it, Ghost. Get out.” you practically spit his callsign, wanting him to understand that you really weren’t considering his, yet unspoken, offer.
“We’d have sent Gaz…” he pauses “but he’s broken. So I’ll have to do…”
Your stomach drops at that and Ghost almost almost sees the break in your facade.
*18 months earlier*
You’d gone through your entire military career with Gaz by your side. You’d class Gim has a friend, even though you were detached and fairly closed off. He was always determined to bring down your walls.
The pair of you were eventually split up when he was headhunted for the formidable taskforce, the 141. You didn’t see him for months, maybe even over a year, until your unit, which you labelled as ‘the Donkeys’, because they were all so shit, crossed paths with the 141 in Russia.
You, and Shepherd, you came to find out, who had been acting as the temporary commanding officer, visiting from America on a joint op, were the only survivors, not that Gaz knew.
The 141 didn’t stick around to check how us Donkeys got on. Just left us behind to do the grunt work, while they, along with Shepherd, moved on. Yeah. Still a bit bitter about that…
Mission accomplished, in their eyes. Necessary losses and all that.. the Donkeys were just collateral for them.. you included.
You returned to base, under your own steam, injured and forced to practically hitchhike back from Russia. When you limped back through the base security, flashing the dented dog tags, confirming that you were, in fact one of them, you were hailed a miracle.
Laswell called within the hour of your miraculous return and wanted to promote you to Lieutenant of your new unit, of strangers, that you’d yet to even meet. Hell, you were even ready for active duty, with your injuries. You decided that it was all for show. Or out of pity… you guessed that, seeing as the rest of the donkeys, and the existing Lieutenant, had been killed, they needed a replacement.
The day of the ceremony rolled around a couple of weeks after, the big names in the SAS, in their fancy suits covered in silverware and ribbons, turned up, to ramble on about what important work you’d all been doing and rewarding medals to hundreds of other soldiers. It was all bullshit.
When it was your turn to receive your medal of distinguished bravery, and to solidify your promotion to the rank of Lieutenant, you stepped up to the stage slowly, and glanced around at the huge crowd, dressed in their formal uniforms, and caught eyes with them. The 141. Gaz was smiling at you, sending a thumbs up your way, mouthing ‘proud of you!’ toward the stage.
You furrowed your brow, thoughts running rampant in your head. Proud of what, exactly? Proud that my entire unit were wiped from existence? Proud that, for some reason, I came back to base?
You froze on the stage. You don’t know for how long. You just remember gulping, trying to make your inner voice shut the fuck up.
Autopilot took over for a few seconds, and you step forward again, towards the important guy, holding the medals and sashes. “Y/n y/l/n. I present to you…” all you hear is your name, and then his muffled voice.
You take one final glance around the ceremony, and take the Lieutenant badge from the silver tray, earning a few gasps from shocked spectators.
“Fuck your promotion. I quit”
And you left the stage, head held high, and walk away. Away from the SAS. Away from the chess game of life. Away from the danger and greed of those in charge. You were done. Even the donkeys didn’t deserve their fate. They were someone’s child. Someone’s parent. Someone’s brother. And they were gone. Without a second glance. But they were oh so thankful for their service, right?
Bullshit.
Canon fodder. That’s all you were sent in for that day.
Pawns to be banished from the board for the next step of the game. Bigger picture. Greater good. All that grandiose bullshit.
You remembered rushing to your old room at the barracks and hastily packing whatever you had left. Hoping you’d be gone before someone detained you. Surely what you’d done was some sort of illegal, right?
What you didn’t expect was for Gaz and his Captain to come knocking on your door.
“Y/n? You in there..?”
“Piss off, Garrick” you snapped in reply.
“Soldier, open the door” the Captain’s, you’d assumed, rough voice commanded.
“Sorry Cap” you popped the P, immaturely, “no can do, don’t take orders anymore, remember? I quit..”
There was one heavy crash at the door, followed by some splintering sounds of wood, and then the Captain, followed by a sheepish looking Gaz, invited themselves into your room.
“Ray, is it? You don’t need to do this... You’re a valuable asset. You have so much to offer. I’ve read your file. You show a lot of promise. Garrick, here, backs that up. Says you and he came through the ranks together, said that you were the only one who could beat him in your year. Is that true?”
You kept your back to the men, continuing to blatantly ignore them and stuff your belongings into bags.
“You don’t have to rush, Ray. I have my other two men blocking the hallway”.
You remember furrowing your brow at that, not that he could see. Why was he protecting you? Why was he being… nice… about it?
“All due respect, Captain, but I’m out. Done. Finished. Yeah? Understood? I’d love to think up some more words to try and get through to you, but I need to get off base asap, before I’m detained. Hell, they’ll probably decide that what I just did is some sort of war crime. Now.. if you’ll excuse me..” you said, pushing past the men and out of the door.
“Ray!” Gaz shouted.
“Here, at least take this..” he presented his wallet.
“Help you find somewhere, yeah?”
You recall being caught off guard at his offer before nodding, sending a tight lipped smile his way.
“Thank you”
*now*
That was the last interaction you’d had with Kyle Garrick. Probably the last act of kindness thrust upon you since, hell, since you can remember...
And now his Lieutenant is in your shitty little flat, that Gaz’s money helped pay the deposit for, telling you that he is hurt.
You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the scraping of the chair against the wooden floor, and the massive Lieutenant, skull covered face and all, standing from said chair, his head practically touching the ceiling light.
“I’ll pass on your regards to Gaz” he grumbles, heading to the door. “Enjoy your soup, Ray.”
You wait until his back is turned and he is out of earshot, before gulping and scratching your damp hair. I hope Gaz is ok.. I - I wonder why they’ve came to me..? What the hell has happened..
More thoughts run through your head, and the squeak of the springless door handle jolts you again. Christ, hasn’t he gone yet..? He’s taking his time..
“Good bye, Ray. Trackers in the wallet. If you want to disappear again” Ghost speaks quietly, as if to himself, before stepping out into the curtain of rain.
Your eyes flash back and forth, furrowed brow. That slimy little prick, they’ve known where I was this entire time.. probably kept an eye on me.. what the actual fuck..
You rush to the door, opening it and seeing the Lieutenants broad figure stalking away into the darkness, the splashing of his steps the only thing you can hear over the pounding rain hitting the street.
“How hurt is he...” I shout into the darkness.
You don’t see, but Ghost smirks under his balaclava, before turning to face you.
“He’s not taking visitors, Ray. Let’s leave it at that..”
Cunt. Fucking bastard. He knows what he’s doing. Dangling a piece of string in front of a cat..
You growl.
“Arghh! FINE. Fuckin’. Fuckin’ FINE. You win. You happy? You fucking win, Lieutenant. Give me 5 minutes..”
He smirks again, and this time you swear you can see the smugness shine through his eyes. It won’t take you long to pack anyway. Not like you’ve unpacked in the 18 months you’ve been here.
You rush back into the flat and grab the two loaded rucksacks, untouched since you left base for the, what you thought would be, final time. You grab the door handle, and rush back to grab your tins of soup and noodles. Oh - and the wine!
What? It’s a waste not to use them..
You join Ghost back on the street.
“Welcome back, Ray..” the Lieutenant says in a cocky voice.
“Don’t call me that” you snap, bitterly.
“Need to have a name, woman. You’re the newest member of taskforce 141…”
“Piss off…” is all you can muster for the time being.
You wrap your soaked jacket, tighter around your body, and pray that the cigarettes in your bra are still dry.
You’re gonna need them…
59 notes · View notes
fungits · 1 year ago
Text
quit smoking last night. biggest mistake ive ever made i feel like im going to die my skin is crawling this is so frustrating
5 notes · View notes
crybaby-bkg · 1 year ago
Text
sorry I’ve been on such a Dabi high lately but I almost croaked earlier at the thought of being his college gf and just being so opposite of each other!!!!!! you’re all good grades and perfect attendance, easily approachable and sweet smiles. and he’s all grumpy faced and dark clothing, makes people nervous whenever he stands outside smoking right by the doors.
who the hell would’ve thought you two would end up together? it just didn’t make a lick of sense seeing you two from the outside. but when they get a glimpse of you guys together, alone, everything just falls into place.
he’s so supportive of everything you do, no matter how dumb or nerdy he thinks it is. he keeps count of your stitches for you when you crotchet, doesn’t mind being your model for a cropped hot pink sweater you’re creating, wears the knitted beanie around campus that you made for him. he hates not having your attention but he takes some of the same classes you take so that he can help you study, quiz you when you’re not too sure of the subject, maybe even help you cheat if you want (you don’t, but he always offers).
he buys you your favorite drink at the cafes and always carries an extra laptop charger in case you forget. he helps you pick out your outfits when you’re unsure, and loves the opposite aesthetic whenever you stand hand in hand with him. he praises you when you succeed, and comforts you with your failures. he looks like a dirtbag that hangs around campus to be a creepy bum, but he’s there for you through and through <3
193 notes · View notes
dailykugisaki · 10 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Day 347 | id in alt
Kugisaki hasn't been around Gojo enough to gaf about him LMAO.
#dailykugisaki#jjk#kugisaki nobara#shoko ieri#okay rant time yall#i know some folkos might be mad that i make it seem like shoko is a wet fucking rag which she kinda is kinda isn't#shes clearly capable in her area although in a very she's using what she knows in a different way than shes used to#Shoko unfortunately was EXTREMELY dependent on Gojo's decisions and i hate gege for showing that#most of her actions included gojo in some degree which unfortunately made the decisions in which she needed to say things#she made those decisions based around what gojo would do#letting getos body go uncremated letting gojo killed geto himself ect ect#she didn't involve herself because gojo was gonna do it anyway and i think that mentally effected her bad#so turned herself into her work. somebody that deals with corpses becoming a single minded corpse herself. funny aint it#she has jokes but she isn't very used to having somebody focused on her for a decision she made#because Okkotsu didn't even fucking say a thing about her when his ass came back so i think it would be funny if Kugisaki kinda loathed her#like yes Shoko. your decisions effect others that arnt Gojo did you get jumpscared and then shoved back into reality? i hope you did#she dosent speak. words arnt really her thing where actions mostly are.#so shes trying to do things that help and thats funny because shes kinda ass at it#like helping burying somebody and like preparing for the worst after you fucked somebody over#shoko i see you#also girl why is the only version of self care you have ever done FLINGING YOUR FUCKING CIGARETTE AWAY#why is that your only version of self care and not getting over your damn alcoholism. weirdoooo#Kugisaki using herself as a frame of reference for bad shit. girl i see you LOL#hope that Shoko shit makes sense because she definitely does shit. she knows what she's doin#but before gojo died. well gojo was sort of like a fucked up version of a higher up for her idk#Shoko isn't a pushover. Kugisaki is just mad as hell.#shoko is an asshole that sucks at walking forward but she hurts while healing too so...girl what the fuck#she cant do much or anything with the kids except heal them in a way that dosent quite matter anymore
12 notes · View notes
synapticconstruction · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
15 notes · View notes
kayfabebabe · 1 month ago
Text
That was the first match…
Tumblr media
14 notes · View notes
kenobihater · 3 months ago
Text
just saw a fic tagged both as a #fix-it fic (for the noncanon gay pair) and as #widowed character (implying the character's beloved canonical wife died somehow). motherfucker, spousal death is NOT a fix-it! STOP fridging women just bc you find them inconvenient for their husbands' relationship statuses!! give me lavender marriages, infidelity, miscommunication, polycules, or any other form of complex dynamic but for the love of GOD stop killing them off for the combined benefit of avoiding unconventional and/or uncomfortable dynamics and also allowing you to focus on that sweet sweet man pain in your shitty fic. the next person to do this owes every wife on earth $500
5 notes · View notes
autisticredhood · 2 years ago
Note
Does jason smoke in canon?
Tumblr media Tumblr media
quick response is here is him post-crisis shown lighting a cigarette in batman #408, so yes he did smoke. can't recall a panel of him post resurrection smoking but wouldn't be surprised if there is one, if i remember later I'll add it on. smoking isn't a BIG thing with him, not like fanon can emphasize, but there is an origin to him smoking when he was younger
[ID: two images of young post-crisis Jason Todd. First image is a panel of him sitting on a mattress in the apartment he's squatting in lighting a cigarette to his lips as Batman watches in the doorway. Second image is a close-up of the next panel where the cigarette has fallen from Jason's lips in shock and there is a little swirl of smoke. End ID]
87 notes · View notes
tea-earl-grey · 1 year ago
Text
every time I get an asthma attack from existing in an indoor public place because someone is smoking they should have to pay for the $75 of asthma meds I take every month.
(disclaimer – I fully support the decriminalization and legalization of marijuana. i just also support the right for people with respiratory disabilities and sensitivities to exist)
9 notes · View notes
salad-storm · 6 months ago
Text
Smoking isn't cool
3 notes · View notes
milkweedman · 1 year ago
Text
ah, the ever-more-frequent Urge To Explode My Brain from unending migraines. a migraine that just lasts the day already sucks so bad. whole day is gone in a blur of pain and misery, right ? a migraine that lasts multiple days is sort of like if hell was real and you were in it. time has no meaning, only pain, etc.
months of migraines... with no break or end or effective treatment and also you still have to work and behave like a normal person because you cannot lie in bed for months not paying rent. well id describe it you but ive fucking lost the plot. its gone on so long and its so bad that when the migraine ISN'T at its peaking on the pain scale and making me feel like if i was hit by a truck that would be an improvement, i start to feel like my head is a vestigial organ that has been removed. cant access sensation in my head and it feels literally disconnected from my body. meanwhile the pain is still there (along with the brain fog, vertigo, nausea, etc) but it feels like its happening to somebody else.
#im kind of impressed that i can at this point carry a normal conversation (as good as i ever can. which is bad but irrelevant)#while being in agony and having been in agony for as long as i can remember#usually also with something dislocated just for some extra fun#because what i actually feel like doing 100% of the time is lighting myself on fire and/or screaming forever until i die#however thats the kind of shit that puts you in the psych ward again#so i am. smiling and making small talk while migraine auras wash out my vision and i try not to visibly dry heave#its really really really fucking bad. all the time so fucking bad.#i need to message my neurologist but likelihood of me doing that is low#because 1) the stuff she's put me on has so far done nothing but add intolerable side effects to the hell that i am already existing in#and 2) its fucking hard to do anything. even the bare minimum im not doing. so extra shit is just. not happening#i want to scream.#i am gonna. go for a walk and smoke a cigarette instead and then get really high because at least then i dont really care#the auras are making it really hard to see though. theyre like bleach all over my vision. just this wash of white#hhh.#chronic illness#chronic migraine#and its like. when my knee also gives out and it feels like theres metal in there slicing everything up with each tiny movement#or any of the other one million goddamn things broken in my body#i end up so overwhelmed by pain that i just want to lay on the floor and cry#at which point everyone around me gets mad that im not being productive and im costing them money and im not good enough#like ok kill me then. cheaper for you happier for me. just get a heavy object and go to town i would thank you for it#but i cant even say that because openly expressing suicidality just makes people angrier#im rapidly running out of fucks to give but also i will do anything to avoid returning to the psych ward#literally anything. morals out the window. i dont give a shit.#so its a catch-22.#vent
17 notes · View notes
hella1975 · 2 years ago
Text
the boys' first commentary on keating's lessons being cameron and neil saying 'that was weird' / 'but different' is getting to me like the entire film is a narrative on the suffocation of heavy academia and how it prioritises certain subjects (medicine, law, business, engineering) while condemning creativity and passion and how institutions are promoting conformity and grades-over-wellbeing teaching methods more and more as you both move up the elitism scale and as time goes on, and how that was okay for these kids and like so many generations before them they were going to let it happen to them, but one teacher was different. one single teacher told them to seize the day and make their lives extraordinary and he made them look directly at the state of things, and for a little while it was beautiful but they're just kids; how could they ever change things? and sure enough it catches up to them and the institution wins because it always does and suddenly the suffocating thought of what neil is so sure his life is going to be is so daunting and terrifying that he cant even face it
39 notes · View notes
bibleofficial · 9 months ago
Text
i genuinely think the worst place to live in the world is fucking belgium like bro why the FUCK does EVERYTHING CLOSE AT LIKE 6/7 IN THE EVENING do NONE of yall WORK
2 notes · View notes
1roentgen · 10 months ago
Text
please excuse me
2 notes · View notes
t4tstarvingdog · 1 year ago
Text
guys when they fall back on the bad habits my pretty little girlfriend bad habits
2 notes · View notes
milo-is-rambling · 1 year ago
Text
I am so high I love you dabs I love you big bong rips I love you huge heavy bong I love you only having 20 dollars to my name and no plans but getting high and ignoring it I love you oh no I’m thinking about it
#I want to take an ice cold shower and scream and smoke a whole pack of cigarettes and lock myself in a closet for 72 hours in the dark with#no distractions to figure out what I actually want to do with the rest of my life and to face every bad thought I have and struggle to#ignore even years later like ugh I just need to be at the bottom of the ocean floating sinking alive dead in between for like a month and#then pull me back up and either I’ll be normal or I’ll be so fucked up they just put me back in there#like either way I am vibing at the bottom of the ocean (I have been desperately imaging a sensory deprivation tank all day)#(put me in a fucking sensory deprivation tank until something in my fucking brain rewires and I get worse or better than I am now this#inbetween stage is fucking killing me like what do you mean I’m not a horrible person but also what do you mean I struggle every day but I’m#normal but I have things about me other people don’t and alienate me to the point of near total isolation but also this is just how humans#are and I need to take meds and actively struggle to fit into a perfect little box of what a person should be like god damn I am so tired of#getting better and worse and better and worse and better and worse and better and worse and I’m miserable and I’m happy and I’m sobbing and#I know a month from now I’ll be depressed again or I’ll be the best I’ve ever been and it’s so fucking horrible to be in the middle stage#where I actually have to step up and admit shit is wrong and face it like why can’t I just lay in bed forever until I become the bed and not#like get a job and have a future. ugh. depression is so fucked esp bc most things in my life are normal I guess or like easier than my#friends like we all have seperate challenges but I’m the only one still living off their parents (ha. parent. forgot for a second.) and the#only thing wrong with my life is the mental health issues but I won’t step up and deal with it bc I feel like I’ve been depressed for so#long I like fucked up the foundational shit and like I know it’s fine but also I feel so behind and I feel like I’ll be behind and unhappy#forever even when im happy I know the next depressive episode is right around the corner and I give up again. ugh. I hate knowing that’s#what’s wrong with me but still not having the energy to step up and fix it. im so pathetic I want to cry. my brain is me but my brain is#destroying my life. anyways. im high and now im sad and have dry mouth. I think im gonna drink ice water and change into shorts+lay in bed)
5 notes · View notes