#like she was diabetic and no one gave a shit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nouvxllev · 9 months ago

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how would you spend your valentines?

Pairing: J.O Characters x Fem!Reader

Summary: in which jo characters spend valentines with you

Words: 6.4k

Warnings: just fluff honestly

a/n: holy shit febs ending and im only posting this now. mb yall!!

masterlist

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horrid day

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.0k

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"Thing."

A loud thud was made from across the appendages cabinet, accompanied by a more louder door-slam and the menacing steps of combat boots that's probably worn from someone who looks too big for them came after.

Light appeared from his sight and it'd be much better if he died suffocated inside this damn cabinet rather than being forced to look at something, someone rather, being the next satan in line.

Wednesday stared at the hand, her grip on the knob tight as she watched Thing lie flat on the wooden surface, looking like he just got stabbed with something invisible.

"Accompany me to this ludicrous trip I have no idea why I planned for myself." Her tone was calm but it seemed like she was about to subtract one of his digits if he didn't comply.

'Why should I--'

The phrase 'seeing life flash before my eyes' would be an understatement for Thing when he was met with possibly the sharpest blade on earth crossing one of his thumbs.

"Thing you will accompany me or I swear to deities, I will force you to crawl to the depths of hell and its rings back and forth until you've reach exhaustion and blisters on your skin."

Her voice cut through his confidence, her blade almost puncturing a hole.

So slowly, he nodded. If he even can. He just nodded with his palm up straight and his fingers curled.

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And that's how Wednesday ended up on the busiest day on the street of Jericho, a hand not attached to her arm but walking on the damn sidewalk with a damn leash and a damned thought in her head.

If only it didn't seem like it was the day of giving every flower and chocolate someone could ever possibly find in a 10-mile vicinity of this horrid town then give it to you as some gift or whatever you called it, maybe she wouldn't be roughhoused more times than she could count by too many people on too many stores.

Wednesday scowled at everyone, even more at the couples who strolled in hand in hand, her fingers firmly gripping the leash that was attached to Thing.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered under her breath, shooting an irritated glance at Thing, who looked like he was trampled and being trampled to death. "Why did I even decide to follow through with this."

'Because you saw y/n holding a bunch of bouquets and you wanted to out-do everyone who ever gave her a flower because of some reason you don't know but it gives you a weird tingling sensation in your head to the point you want to be ranked first on the lists of serial killers,' Thing signed.

Wednesday kept walking, tugging at the leash. "Nonsense." She whispered to herself. Her voice softened a little bit, more vulnerable even as she looked forward. It didn't matter, nor did she care whether you got flowers, even the most extravagant ones didn't bother her. It didn't. It definitely did not.

But why did she even go here if it didn't?

"I am not trying to out-do anyone. I simply… want to make a statement." She stopped, her steps coming to a close while Thing raised what passed for eyebrows in his form.

Every shop inventory was sold out, even the shops that sold the flowers at an extremely high rate it'd be better if you bought a house at that point and crowds seem to lessen by the time Wednesday reached the last flower shop.

She could get chocolates, but why give you more chances of dying of diabetes?

'Wednesday, you know what you have to do.'

"Thing, please, do not." The grip on the leash explicitly tightened, almost as if she was going to rip the entire thing apart. She was standing strong with her shoulders still, but her mind was only one sign away to break down.

'You have to crochet a bouquet for y/n.'

She bent down and grabbed Thing by his wrists, clutching his body like it was the last thing on earth that was going to make her problems of a slight romantic gesture go away, her perfectly manicured nails digging onto his skin.

"I will find the nearest laboratory and pray to God there's an abundance of Promethium to douse you into," Wednesday hissed between clenched teeth. The tips of her fingers turned white as she paced back and forth, keeping Thing within sight, his body slumping from the lack of oxygen.

Thing repeatedly tapped on her thumb, his own nails scratching Wednesday's skin as a plead for mercy, his complexion turning white under Wednesday's firm grip. 'I'll help you! I'll help you,' he tapped, desperately.

Thing bounced to the floor after a suffocating release, extending his fingers out, noticing the young Addams' nails leaving faint imprints on his skin, even little cuts starting to form around them.

"Fine. I'll..." she stammered, her words drawing out as if she was disgusted by the mere thought and weighed down by hesitation, "I'll crochet a bouquet for y/n."

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You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you opened your locker to see probably a hundred polaroids of you drop to the floor and a hand-written letter laying flat on the surface with dried flowers.

It was safe to conclude that you were either, a, being stalked or, b, someone was planning your death and this was just a cute little 'one day notice' from the murderer.

But you knew it was from Wednesday. No sane person that wasn't an Addams wont write their letters so terrifyingly romantic and then send it in blood with their favorite flower species being black dahlia and probably a hex written to curse all your past and future generations if you don't comply.

You can handle a fuck ton of flowers to save a closing flower shop and a shit ton of chocolates to outdo Willy Wonka's own chocolate factory, but you definitely can not handle a possible fight between Wednesday Addams.

And that's why you're here now, at Wednesday's doorstep, your hand trembling against the doorknob, and your feet ready to bolt out of Nevermore and probably book a flight to whatever country you needed to escape her wrath.

"Wednesday, look, I don't know what I did to you or your family but I'm really so so so sorry!" You rambled, eyes closed as your voice trembled, turning the door just slightly until it fully opened.

The creak of the door echoed throughout the room and your mind, like it was playing tricks with you or something to amp up your fear.

You opened your eyes to find not a thousand knives surrounding you and a bomb threat immediately attached to a chair but rather Wednesday standing there with something wrapped around her fingers. Her expression was unreadable unlike the many times it wasn't to you.

"What are you apologizing for?" she finally spoke, her voice monotone as she walked up to you. She looked... almost nervous? You didn't know if it was a ruse or she was actually nervous.

"I... I don't know exactly," you stammered, "I just thought, you know, I might've done something to upset you, and I really didn't mean to."

Wednesday's eyebrows arched slightly, a crease forming in her forehead.

"Okay, look, if someone writes 'meet me where satan sits or I will cover your flesh in slits' in, what seems to be, their blood I can't really help it but apologize and be so damn terrified you know?!'"

Wednesday's expression softened slightly at your explanation, "Ah, yes, I can see how that might be… alarming to most people like you."

She held out what she had been clutching in her fingers, a crocheted small bouquet of flowers all tied together by a ribbon "I do sincerely apologize for the… slightly murderous approach." Wednesday Addams, apologizing? "I intended it a like to a gesture of affection people seem to be giving out these days, though I may have overdone it."

What is happening to the world?

You blinked. Blinked more than a hundred of times now ever since you entered the room. You were unsure if you were dreaming or Wednesday Addams was actually showing the tiniest bit of softness towards you. On valentines.

Mouth hung open, you took the bouquet from her hands, your skin grazing hers as she lowered her arms back to her sides. You knew Wednesday wouldn't be the one to crochet, let alone to any of this, but there was so much detail and effort put into the bouquet, it's hard to believe she did it all alone.

"Thank… thank you, Wends!" You smiled, beaming even, "kinda unexpected of you." You turned the bouquet over in your hands, examining every thread, "didn't know you were joining in this Valentines."

This would be fine. Just fine. Just two friends greeting eachother on Valentines, and giving flowers to them.

If you didn't have the biggest crush on Wednesday Addams yet.

You couldn't contain the grin that spread across your face till you actually looked at the bouquet in your hands, gripping it with such excitement. It was real. This moment was real, and you weren't stuck in a daydream you're having in class. This was actually happening.

"Why'd you do all of this?"

You looked at Wednesday who seemed to have her own confused expression, as if you caught her off guard.

"I don't... I don't know."

Maybe you'd take a risk after all this valentines.

You took a step forward, letting the bouquet drop to the ground where Thing was standing the whole time, assuming a companion of some sorts for Wednesday.

"Do you allow me to touch you?"

She nodded, you inched a little closer.

"Allow me to hold you?"

She nodded, her eyes furrowing and her body almost hesitating, you hold her as if she was something fragile given to you.

"Allow me to talk to you as such?"

She nodded, you whispered to her. Your tone was soft, yet it was filled with hesitation and fear of being pushed away.

"Allow me to hold your hand?"

She nodded, you reached out for her hand, intertwining your fingers with her own as if it was your own soul you were protecting from ivy.

"Allow me to say something I never think I'd say?"

She nodded, you tightened your grip on her, letting your thumb graze over her cold skin in contrast of your warmth.

"Allow me to love you so, so, dearly?"

She nodded, slowly. It wasn't a question, it was something more than that. An oath.

"And for you to love me back?"

"Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible if the both of you weren't so close enough already.

With your trembling hands holding Wednesday's palm, you cupped her face gently.

You allowed your eyes to cross every feature she had, your fingertips memorizing every contour of her face, allow them to be recognized to only you who seemed invested and let the world overlook her beauty, her soul through her dark eyes. As if you were seeing true beauty for the first time.

"May I?"

She was hesitating, she is hesitating. And, fuck, do you want to curse yourself for that.

"It doesn't have to be a kiss on the lips, Wednesday," you murmured softly, letting your words carry out with your actions, "We can take it slow at your pace. Whatever you're comfortable with, I'll do it."

You expected her to pull away, to maintain her usual stoic expression and distance. Yet, she didn't.

She leaned into your touch, her head finding a comfortable spot on your neck. Letting her eyes close, her breath going to your ears like a soft melody on a guitar, your worries slowly going away.

You stood there, holding Wednesday in an embrace you sure you wouldn't let go even if there was a force stretching you apart. Her heartbeat against yours, her arms slowly reciprocating the tightening grip you had on her, the faint smile that slowly graced her ever cold lips, it was nothing yet it was everything.

"I tolerate you." She muttered, her voice mumbled by your shirt yet somehow you heard everything.

A gentle chuckle escaped your lips, your other hand going above her head as you ran your fingers through her hair, "I tolerate you too, Wednesday."

It truly was a horrid day.

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cupid sucks so why not do the job for them?

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.0k

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You hear a door swing open, then a earsplitting slam echoed throughout the whole apartment, hell it even drowned the scream of some horror movie you were watching. Sounds of grumbling and loud stomping made it's way to you, an eerie aura you felt behind your back.

It's concerning how you almost immediately know it's Tara Carpenter.

"Welcome back I guess?" you greeted, a crease in your eyebrows as you turned to look at her, her back being the only thing you see. The potato chips you were about to eat stuck in the air for a moment of time.

The hell is that?

"Looks like cupid shot the wrong person," you chuckled, leaping over the couch to tug at a small arrow lodged behind her, a pop being heard as it came loose. "Why do you have this in your back?"

You hear Tara groan for the millionth time ever since she darkened her own doorstep, "Stupid fucks trying to get me into valentines when I'm clearly stressed about exams!" She turned around, snatching the arrow from your hands and snapping it in half without hesitation.

You flinched, "Aren't your exams not until March?" You jumped back into the couch, the soft cushion dipping as you laid down, your head turning back to the horror movie.

"Ugh, Tara, just tell her the truth," Mindy approached both of you from the kitchen, making her way to the you. "Have a little mercy and don't subject y/n to your lame excuses." She crossed her arms.

"What truth?" You sat up almost immediately, your head snapping to look at Tara with horrified eyes. "Is there something you've been keeping from me, Tara!? I thought we were best friends!" you shrieked.

Tara rolled her eyes, reaching out for your forehead and tipping it back down to the couch, "Dramatic."

Mindy excused herself, your legs retracting as you gave her space to sit beside you, "She's a little miserable because of a certain someone not giving her any valentines gift."

"Oh my God."

"You have a crush!?" You screamed. Almost happy, but then again, you were not. Definitely not happy. When the hell did this happen!?

"Please," Tara groaned, her eyes wrinkling as she pinched the bridge of her nose, "don't call it a crush."

"What the hell am I supposed to call it then?"

"Call it someone I admire," she made her way across the couch, her arms gesturing the both of you to move, "A little."

You hear Mindy give out a little scoff and chuckle, "You've been screaming into your pillow for the past four months of crushing on them."

"Why am I only hearing about this now!?" You exclaimed, a little hurt, yes, or it was more than a little hurt–finding out that the not-really-love-of-your-life-but-she-is-kinda is in love with another person was the type of blow on valentines day that made you want to reach up in the sky and strangle cupid.

Tara sighed, "Because I don't want you teasing me, especially you."

"Then how come Mindy gets to know?" you questioned her, your head leaning back against the armchair while your legs were sprawled on Tara's lap. "It's Min-dy, Tara!"

"I bribed her into telling me," Mindy chimed in with a casual shrug.

You have nothing to do with it nor do you have any right to, but you couldn't help it but feel a tinge of jealousy. People have to feel that emotion some times, right? You were only human, and this was just one of those moments where you'd get jealous for a somehow valid thing.

I mean, you were there when Tara healed from all her scars, you were there when she finally really talked with Sam, you were there when she got accepted into her dream college and even threw a celebration, you were there for Tara through thick and thin, and you never missed a birthday or a special event she had ever since you met her.

To sum it up: you were there for everything! How could some guy, who probably didn't even try as hard as you did, get Tara to fall in love with them!?

Your eyes gazed down to the lower corner of the TV, no longer paying attention to Mia Goth's stunning performance. You've watched this movie a hundred of times if not more, it was one of your favorites that Tara introduced to you next to the Babadook, so it was always an opening for conversations with her.

Now you could only imagine Tara and that, whoever it was, sitting on the same damn couch and talking about some stupid damn conversation and you just have to deal with it.

But it was fine. Tara had someone, someone she truly cared about, and that was a good thing. You were fortunate enough to witness her happiness with that person and have them as a constant presence in her life without any danger, that was a plus.

"Who are they anyway?" you grumbled, the words slipping out almost involuntarily before you could catch yourself.

The couch shifted slightly, Tara and Mindy exchanging knowing glances as you eyed both of them.

"Oh my God," you whispered in horror, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach, trying to face the truth even if it was meant to kill you. "Is it Chad!?"

Tara's face contorted into pure disgust, more disgust than ever while Mindy burst into a hearty laughter, "that is one of the most vile and revolting thing you have ever said to me, what the actual fuck y/n!?"

"Oh, you are disgusting!" Mindy laughed, throwing her head back as Tara's constant "ew" and her laugh filled the room.

"So if it isn't Chad, then who is it!?" You exclaimed, a slight smile coming from your lips as you watched them both.

"No way you're serious." Mindy raised an eyebrow, jumping off the couch and walking to her own room in the apartment, "I'll let the two of you figure this out!" She called out before you hear the door slam shut.

The silence was deafening. More deafening than having noise cancelling headphones jammed into your ears 24/7; it can be relaxing but it also can be so damn nerveracking.

You and Tara were always joined at the hip, no matter the situation was, the both of you almost always seemed to know what was a good conversation for the two of you.

Yet nothing good crossed your mind at this moment. By nothing good you mean having Tara namedrop her crush and have your life crashing down before your eyes.

"It.. it doesn't matter who you love or who is that special someone for you." You stammered, your voice cracking just slightly, hoping Tara wouldn't notice. "I'm just happy you have someone you admire and someone thats so lovely you want to be with them forever." Your fists were clenched as you continued, a soft smile graced your lips, sure, but hurt overcame everything.

"So I really want to get to know the sad and poor victim who had cupid hit Tara Carpenter square in the back," you laugh, turning to her.

You were expecting Tara to just go all in and scream in the top of her lungs her own love of her life and that she doesn't like you (optional).

Instead, she shot you with the most confused and offended look ever as if you just cursed her whole family bloodline through the most foulest of witchcraft thats dated wayback the 15th century.

"Who..." she started, her eyebrows creasing and her face twisting as if she was so done with you, "who else could it be but you!?"

what.

what hte fuck?? is she seirlous??? whathwhawthwhatwhatwhatwhatwhattheactualfuckishappening.

It was safe to say that your world froze. The tilt of the earth became an even number, a fraction maybe, the globes gravitational force flipping and rotating, the world spinning yet it stops every few seconds while your brain tries to process what the fuck just came out of Tara's mouth.

"Me?" you echoed, pointing a hand at yourself, your voice barely a whisper at this point, "you're insane... You're actually crazy."

Tara's expression softened slightly as she turned her whole body to you, her legs crossing and her eyes staring dead center right at you. "I don't want to sit here and just pretend I'm fawning over some guy so that you'd be better off not knowing I love you." She explained, "and I don't want to watch you treat me like any other friend you have when all I ever wanted is to be more than that."

Your mind raced, what was she saying? It was valentines, right? It's February the 14th and not April 1st. Sure, you considered the possibility of Tara liking you, but it was just because one of those manifestation videos you kept seeing on your page and you were too delusional for your own good!

"You can't be serious..." You laughed, chuckled even, taking all of this as a joke, "me? You like like me? Of all people, you chose me?"

Tara crossed her arms, letting out an eye roll and a scoff, "Yes, you! Who else could it possibly be but you? Am I talking to you through them, is that what you think?"

You stayed silent, mouth hung open but words just decided that it wasn't a great time to spill out.

"I... I understand if you don't like me the same way," she started after a while, "I just thought it'd be a great idea to confess now rather than any other day so--"

Tara's words trailed off, voice shaky, and you couldn't bear the thought of letting her finish the sentence with her saying something so foolish. Without another word that came out of her mouth, you closed the distance between the both of you and leaned in, capturing her soft with yours.

You never knew how her lips could be so addicting until today.

She responded eagerly after processing for a bit, her hands finding their way to your waist as she pulled your closer while you raised your hands and cupped her cheeks.

You can feel yourself melting within her body. Her breath was warm against your skin sent shivers down your spine, a feeling that made you think you were everything to her as you felt a smile coming loose from her lips.

She tasted like her perfume, her scent, her chapstick, her clothes, her everything. Her lips were soft, welcoming, and lovely. Tara was everything beauty was under if not more.

The kiss was soft but it lasted longer than it should've. Her palm flat on your waist, only bringing you closer and closer, the heartbeat and rush you felt when your bodies were pressed together like glue, the way Tara's hands grabbed you so possessively as if she'd die if she ever looses another second on your lips, it was perfect. She was perfect.

People fall in love with everything, their first love was nature. You were the same with the majority, you fell in love with everything you see. Your first sunset and sunrise, the first butterfly you saw, your friends, even your first crush. Everything you caught with your very own eyes; you fell in love.

Yet, they weren't your first love. Tara was.

And even if you get to see her everyday, her presence gracing your eyes every time you breath, every time you come alive for another day, you always seem to fall in love with her again and again with no fail.

It only made you so obsessed with her soul.

Now, you finally get to kiss your first love on the day of hearts.

When you finally pulled away, you wished you hadn't.

You looked into Tara's eyes and she looked in yours as she brought her hands to her lips, touching it slightly.

"I never knew," she whispered, smiling.

"I never realized," you admitted, your voice equally as soft as hers while a smile reflected hers.

You would admit, Cupid sucks at their own game. So why not do it yourself?

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cheers to a broken heart

Pairing: Vada Cavell x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.4k

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"Hhaaaapppyyy V day, bitches!"

Vada shouted across the heart-littered and Valentines-illed cafeteria, tray in her hands as she approached your table.

The 14th of February

The day where couples unfortunately couldn't get scolded by any passing teacher whenever they show any excessive public affection in the school.

Everyone was either singing a song to someone, couples weirdly somehow getting it on without a teacher scolding them, confessing their love to their crush and getting rejected (which was honestly Vada's favorite past time for Valentines), and everyone being in a lovesick haze that'll only last two days, give or take.

Nick dropped his food on his own tray, sprinkling off bread crumbs from his fingers as he looked up at Vada. "It's your birthday?"

"Vagina day?" You chewed on your food with your left cheek, leaving room for coherent sentences, "Seriously, Vada?"

"Okay, first of all," Vada sat down, her tray making a loud metallic slam as she sat in front if you, "you have to catch me on some next level shit to scream happy vagina day out loud." She held up her hand as she turned to it, "And second of all, come on Nick! We've been bestfriends for ages and you don't even know my birthday isn't until maybe a few months"

"If only I could forget, maybe my wallet wouldn't be in total wreck, and I wouldn't have the urge to start printing money."

Vada shot back, adjusting her chair, "Then who else is going to pay for my stuff on my birthday?"

"You?" Nick suggested, eyebrows knitting themselves together.

"Aren't you the joker?" Vada retorted, an innocent smile tugging on her lips while Nick playfully scowled

You only stared a them, giving a few huffs of a laugh here and there, your hand mindlessly toying with your food while your other arm rests on the table, holding up your slanted face.

You couldn't eat, you could only stare at it and maybe push some vegetables around to make it look like you're eating. You couldn't really be in the right mindset to eat, let alone have the energy to strike up a conversation not after what happened just a few hours ago.

"You good?" Vada looked up at you, concern tainting her face and voice as she stopped eating all together, "You don't really look good."

Nick raised his fork, pointing at you, "She broke up with her boyfriend."

"What!?"

It was wrong. Very, very wrong, but Vada couldn't help the smile that was fighting for dear life not to show.

Holy fuck, this was the best valentines gift ever!

Not that she was happy that you just ended an almost a year relationship with your partner that probably loved you dearly, she just... She just thinks she can love you 10 times as harder.

You put down your fork in defeat, covering you face in your hands, "I don't know what to do... It just—" you stammered, words faltering, "It just came out so suddenly when we were talking."

Vada raised an eyebrow, "you just don't break up with someone out of the blue on valentines. Come on, dude." She tried to sound emphatic, but she was covering her smile like the damn good friend she is.

"I know!" you exclaimed, "I know... I don't know." You picked up your fork once again, "I think I'm in love with someone new, maybe that's why I broke up with him."

Maybe she spoke too soon.

"Nick?" She turned to him, slowly, "Can you join me to get some food?"

Nick chewed, side-eying her, "Your tray isn't even half done—"

"Nick." She inhaled a little too hard, gripping his wrist, "For the love of fucking God, please."

Nick winced while nodding vigorously, "Alright, alright! I'm coming, damn." The both of you stood up, pushing back your chairs while Nick gestured for you to wait.

"Okay," Vada stood in line, glancing back at the table, "who do you think y/n is in love with!? I mean, yeah, we shouldn't probably pry, but Nick, you know better than anyone else that I would literally die for me to be her girlfriend and you know damn well how many sleepless nights I've stayed up to pray for her boyfriends downfall!"

Nick crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Are you actually getting food, or are we just—"

"Of course we're not getting food! I'll just get some water, now, answer my question."

"Vada," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I do not know. If I did, I probably would've told you my thoughts at this point. Y/n hasn't shown any interest in anybody."

Vada nodded, her hand resting on her chin as the line moved, "Yeah, I guess theres that. But y/n is so secretive at times!"

Nick sighed, grabbing Vada by the shoulders and excused people out of the way, "V, just ask her or maybe give her time. She's in a state of a break-up right now."

Vada and Nick returned to the table, Vada looking done as ever and Nick returning to eat his food.

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It was either Vada has gone insanely mad or she's just trying to do a friendly gesture by selling out every single flower and chocolate shop that Jericho has established and plans to give them all to you to cheer you up just a slight bit. And maybe let you see she was the one of you after all.

Friendly, maybe not so, but inane is on the mark. She just wants to make you happy!

It was already after class, an hour after to be precise, and she was waiting outside for you, phone in hand as she leaned against her car while a luggage—no—a semi-truck of bouquets and chocolates awaited for you in the back seat.

You exited the building, your own phone in your hand as you looked for Vada's bug-eyed car that she bought with her birthday money that Nick contributed atleast 70% of it, wind caught up in your hair as you finally see Vada in the distance, waving to you like she was just some idiot.

The very sight was a sight for sore eyes, endearing even. Her antics always brought a smile to your face at the end of the day, and her very person bringing unwanted butterflies in your stomach. But you wouldn't admit that. You wouldn't admit that Vada was the reason why you broke up with your boyfriend in the first place.

Vada's smile only widened more as you approached her, the small figure waving to you in the distance. You can practically feel her happiness. "I'm surprise you agreed so fast."

"Thought I needed some time to myself after a horrible breakup," you replied, walking over to the passenger seat right in the front while Vada got into the driver's seat.

"By time to myself do you mean time with the amazing and pretty cool Vada Cavell and her car?" She closed the door behind her, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips as she hooked her legs onto your lap once you were both seated.

You rolled your eyes playfully, letting out a slight scoff, "you're too insufferable for your own good."

Silence overtook her parked car, the outside wind being the only sounds that weren't drowned by the ringing in your ears, but it was the nice type of silence. It was the type of silence that made you feel like you were nothing, a spec of dust even, yet you were having the time of your life with the person you love the most beside you.

Your seat was adjusted to lay back while Vada leaned against the tinted windows with her legs sprawled on top of your lap, probably smoking a joint by the faint smell of weed and ashes filling her car.

You could feel her legs moving, her body sitting up and digging for something in her pockets.

"Vada, you know that I—"

"You don't smoke, yes," Vada's voice, surprisingly low and soft, cut you off. "I get that, I really, really do, and I am all for not breaking your lungs ahead of time." She pulled out a plastic ziplock bag that contained something… a bit more colorful than the regular blunts you'd see.

"…Buuuut," she continued, unlocking the zipper and pulling out the makeshift blunt by her two fingers, "I got you this blunt made up of fruit roll-ups! The inside of it is popping candy. Courtesy of yours truly." She grinned, passing you the candy, "Can't really puff, puff, pass that but it's something you gotta try."

"You're fucking insane, V," you laughed as you shook your head, taking the candy from her hands and putting it against your lips, "it's delicious anyway."

She shrugged, leaning back yet again, "told you so."

It didn't take long for the candy to disappear from your fingers almost immediately, the sweet taste lingering on your tongue, the candy still somehow popping in your ears.

"How do you cut a sandwhich, horizontally or diagonally?" Vada broke the profounding silence, exhaling a puff of smoke as she took the blunt off her lips.

You sat up immediately, a lift in your eyebrows as you looked at her with a concerned grin, "Oh, you are high high."

"Don't overthink it," She sat up, tapping off the ash into the nearby tray beside her floor console, remnants of smoke trailing upwards as she discarded the cig entirely, "Just say whatever comes to your mind."

She intertwined her legs with yours as you both sat up, her arms coming to her knees as she repeated, "Horizontally or diagonally?"

"Horizontally, of course, why would I—"

"Coke or pepsi?"

"Coke."

"Do you pour cereal or milk first?"

"Cereal."

"Why did you break up with your boyfriend?"

"Because I'm in love with you."

"Oh." Shit.

Your eyes widened, if only you were quick to shut your brain and mouth out, or maybe better yet, be both deaf and blind.

It was an understatement to say that panic replaced all your blood cells with the word itself, wishing so damn desperately to take back your words as if it would erase this moment in time and create a new one.

"Oh fuck," you whispered, your other hand ready to completely buck out of her car and sprint to no mans land, or maybe kill yourself. That seemed like the better option out of the others.

"Vada I—" You stammered. The car definitely felt smaller, heavier even. Like it was going to implode within a second. Your lips slightly parted as if you were about to say something, wanted to say something, but nothing came.

"Okay, look—" she gulped, raising her hands, the usual animated gesture while she explained herself.

"I'm… sad? Okay, not sad, that's the truth, you deserve to know it. But!" She exclaimed,, words coming out in a rush, "That's… okay? Not okay for you or for him but it's—" She paused to take a deep breath before continuing, taking your hand with hers, "I finally get to do something I've wanted to do for a very long time without some kind of big consequence."

Vada's fingers traced patterns on the back of your hand, a silent way of asking for permission, a way that made you felt important to the point you almost missed the glint in her soft eyes and a tug on her mouth.

She reached out and gently cupped your cheek, tilting your head a bit, the simple warmth from her touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your breath catching in your throat as you looked at her with pure eyes, listening.

"Would it be okay?" She whispered, hesitance evident in her voice, "would it be alright if I…"

Before she could even finish her sentence, you brought your hand up to hers flat on your cheek. With a gentle tug, you pulled her closer with your free arm, the softness of her lips melting against yours as you met them in a gentle kiss.

Both of your hands move over to her shoulders, messaging them slightly as you welcomed Vada's tongue into your mouth, your body tensing almost immediately yet softening when she removed her hands from your face and dragged them down to your waist, pulling you impossibly close to her.

Her lips were gentle, soft, and tender, smiling under yours. She tasted like chapstick mixed with cigarettes, a faint smell of the joint she smoked yet she still smelled so enchanting. You don't know how she does it.

You almost whined when Vada pulled away, familiar eyes staring right back at you. But they looked new. It was filled with love, endearment even, or maybe fondness.

She never looked more beautiful.

It only took a minute of silence before Vada realized what happened. "Are we—are we girlfriends? Well, we just kissed, I mean, I know that, but are we girlfriends girlfriends? I never had a girlfriend before, have you? I mean I guess you did but never a girlfriend. Ohmygod, am I your first girlfriend, holy fuck this really means—"

You laughed before planting a simple kiss on her lips, "Vada, as much as I love your rambling, please don't ruin this moment." You cupped her cheeks, your eyes tracing every single feature she carried.

"Yeah," she nodded, another smile on her mouth, "yeah." She laughed as she shook her head.

"Wait," She stopped you, her hands doing a stop gesture, "but this just technically means that I'm just a rebound? Oh, God, I don't wanna be known as that girl who got with you just hours after you broke up with your boyfriend! What if everyone flames me for it!? Y/n, I love you but wouldn't this ruin your reputation too!? What if they say you cheated on your boyfriend, what if—"

You rolled her eyes and kissed her yet again, "I don't think having a fuck ton of chocolates and flowers stuck inside the backseat of your car and having me in the passenger seat would help your thinking."

"That doesn't really help my situation." She tilted her head, eyebrows creasing.

"I'm saying that we'll keep it hidden, even if you'd be one itch away from telling everyone we're together."

"I wont tell, I promise!" Vada saluted, she always does that. Even before a pinky promise, a salute is always needed.

Not that you didn't feel bad about breaking up with your boyfriend out of the blue, it's just a simple problem that'll lead to a celebration for a broken heart.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: this was long overdue, sorry i posted it so late!! just seemed like writers block missed me a little bit too much.

#wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x female reader #vada cavell x you #jenna ortega

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alloftheimaginesblog · 8 days ago

Text

something sugary {alex karev}

Plot: Reader has diabetes and Alex always keeps a stash of sugary food and drink for them in his locker.

requested by anon

Character: Alex Karev x Female Reader

Alex nudged your side for the third time in the span of twenty seconds. You shot him a dirty look, "Stop," you hissed under your breath.

Bailey pulled a look of 'shut your mouth right now or I'll kill you' at the two of you but still, ten seconds later, Alex nudged your side, "Are you feeling alright?" He asked quietly, "You're looking a little clammy..."

You looked at him, feeling a rather large surge of anger bubble inside you, "Alex, you're a piece of-" and then you realised that he was right. You'd been feeling rather warm for the last five or so minutes and when you stopped to listen to your body, you felt sluggish and a little shaky. You were having a hypo. "-shit!" You cursed as you began to feel the familiar tendrils of a hypo taking over your body. It had a way of sneaking up on you and then making you go down fast. You had to check your bloods and get something sugary into your body and fast.

Bailey, who'd been in the middle of telling you about a patient, raised her eyebrows, "Excuse me?"

"Sorry, Doctor Bailey, I need to go check my levels, think I might be-"

She flapped a hand at you, "Alright, go, go!"

You rushed out of the room quickly, trying to get to your locker before the hypo got worse. You always kept your kit on you but the snacks were always stored in your locker (or the vending machine since you usually forgot to get more) - maybe not the most ideal but that's the way it had to be. You'd been so preoccupied with getting out that you hadn't realised someone else left behind you.

By the time you got to the locker room, you felt rather worse for wear. A dull headache was spreading across your forehead that was slick with sweat and your body felt like one more step forwards would cause it to collapse. Despite that, you pushed through and sat on the bench. You needed to know your levels, as you did this, you barely processed the fact that Alex Karev had now joined you in the locker room and was rifling through his locker for something.

2.2mmol/L flashed on screen.

"Shit," you whispered before standing and going to your own locker but before you could, Alex caught your wrist and twirled you round. Annoyed, you snapped, "Alex, I don't have time for-"

He pushed something into your hands, "Eat." You frowned at him and then looked down at what he'd put in your hands... Candy?

"What is this?"

"Shut up and eat," he rolled his eyes, "I told you that you looked funny, you're having a hypo. Something sugary is what you need. Eat."

You didn't question him again and instead sat down on the bench and began to eat a few of the sour candies he'd given you. He sat next to you in silence.

As you ate, you could feel the headache ease off a bit and you didn't feel as warm, "How did you know?"

"I'm a Doctor, genius."

You rolled your eyes, "Seriously, Alex, how did you know?"

He shrugged, "We've been doing this together for like a year. I know when you're having a hypo or you're about to. It's why I've stashed so much sugary stuff in my locker for you."

It took you a moment to process what he'd just said. He'd been observing you enough to know when you were in a hypo and he kept snacks in his locker for you? You and Alex were friends, barely. He was an asshole half the time but sometimes, in rare moments, you connected. You liked to drink with him, he had the wildest stories and could always make you laugh.

"Alex..."

He gave you a small smile, "Don't mention it but maybe you should lay off calling me a piece of shit and just let me help you instead, yeah?"

"... Why do you keep snacks in your locker for me?"

"Give me your locker key." He held out his hand and you gave him your keys. He stood and moved to your locker before swinging it open. Inside, you had a few changes of clothes, some skin care, shampoo, tampons but no snacks, "Like I said, we've been working together for a year. I know that even though you're one of the best Doctors I know, you're hopeless at keeping on top of buying yourself snacks to keep in work. Too many times I've seen you send O'Malley to the vending machines." He shrugged, "I thought I'd keep a stash for easiness."

You were touched. You were insanely appreciative of Alex Karev in this moment, your heart surged and felt rather full and warm inside, "Alex, I don't know what to say."

He shook his head, "It's alright," he sat beside you again, "here, let me check your levels." He took your hand and you let him. You were a little too shocked to stop him if you wanted to but you'd never felt this seen before, least of all by Alex Karev. You watched him in awe as he expertly pricked your finger and took your levels, "There," he grinned, "Perfect."

He packed your kit away and handed it back to you and dug around in his scrub pocket to pull out another key, "It's my spare locker key." He looped it onto your keychain and you noticed it had AK in Sharpie on either side, "If you ever need sugary stuff, help yourself... it's all for you anyway."

"Thank you, Alex," you said softly. Your cheeks felt hot again but not because of a hypo but more so because you didn't know what to do now. Having him be here, having him care for you like this... it sent your heart and stomach into a frenzy and you weren't sure how to react now.

He rolled his eyes as he laughed, "What?" He asked, "I give you candy and that's got you all blushing and shy? What would you be like if I took you on a real date, mm?" He was teasing but there was a genuine question under the humour. A date - a real date with him. He was testing the waters, wanting to gauge your reaction to him saying that.

You laughed, not freaked out or disgusted at all by his suggestion, "You need to work harder to get a date with me, Karev," you stood up and the two of you began to walk back to the elevators.

"Yeah? Name your price, I'll do it."

"Coffee, every morning for the next two weeks. Not crappy hospital coffee-"

"Nah, you want the real stuff from that coffee shop across the road. I've seen you in there before your shift starts." You nodded in agreement. Alex smiled, "Easy, done."

You saw a completely different side to Alex Karev that afternoon and it didn't stop there. Once you'd seen it once, you'd seen his softer side one hundred times. You began to see him just like he had seen you. And yes, for the next two weeks, he got you coffee and a muffin every morning (and then every morning afterwards also).

#one shot #alex karev #alex karev x reader #reader insert #os #grey's anatomy #greys anatomy #greys anatomy imagine #imagine #alex karev imagine #grey's anatomy imagine #ga #ga imagine

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year ago

Text

To Be a Man - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Wife!OC (Sophie)

Word Count: 2.2k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Secret Marriage; Non-Traditional Family Dynamics; Mentioned Death of Minor OCs; Marriage of Convenience/Necessity; Mentions of Type 1 Diabetes; Third Person POV, Named OC kids and Wife, No Physical Descriptions of Any OCs

Summary: Hangman is married. And it’s no one else’s business.

Prologue Part 2 Part 3

Master List

A.N. Disclaimer - I don’t have Type 1 diabetes and so this is purely based off of a little research and what I’ve seen my friends with Type 1 do.

“You’re married!?”

Hangman turned around at the accusation to find the rest of the Daggers, save for Coyote, who he was talking to before they were so rudely interrupted, staring at him like he had grown a second head. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, not sure why it was any of their business.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?”

“Who the hell are you married to?” Rooster asked, earning a condescending smirk from Hangman.

“My wife.”

“Well, no shit Sherlock.”

“Where’s your wedding ring then?” Payback questioned, leaning on the table to inspect Hangman’s left hand. “I’ve never seen you wear one around.”

“It’s on my dog tags, dipshits,” Hangman replied, pulling out the chain to show them, even though he didn’t have to do that. “That a crime?”

“Why do you flirt with other women then?” Bob inquired, sharing a look with Phoenix. “Two women gave you their numbers last night alone.”

“Did you see me calling either one of them?”

“Well . . . no, we didn’t, but—”

“—When did you get married?” Phoenix intervened, tilting her chin up and narrowing her eyes a bit. “And where is she?”

“Two years ago. And she’s driving here right now,” Hangman stated, checking his watch. Pulling out his phone, he looked up his wife’s location before turning back to the Daggers. “She’s about five minutes away, if you want to be specific.”

“She’s staying here with you?”

“For a while, yeah. Like anyone else’s spouse would,” Hangman retorted, getting a bit annoyed with all of the questions. “Why?”

“Well, we’ve got to meet Mrs. Seresin,” Rooster drawled, folding his arms across his chest. “Since we’ve heard so much about her.”

“Do you even have a picture of her?” Fanboy questioned, causing Hangman to shoot him an annoyed look.

“Yes.”

“Well, are you going to show it to us?”

“No,” Hangman snorted, shaking his head. “No, I’m not.”

The Daggers continued to list of questions that Hangman half-answered, half-gave bullshit responses, before Hangman spotted a familiar silver car rolling into the lot. Ignoring the Daggers, he set his drink down and got up from his seat, slipping around the railings on the back porch of the Hard Deck to greet his wife. Coyote was about to take a sip of his drink when he found five sets of eyes trained on him.

“I’m not telling you guys anything,” Coyote stated, shaking his head. “They’ll be here in five seconds.”

“So, you knew the whole time that Hangman was married?” Payback questioned, causing Coyote to nod in return. “And you never thought to mention that?”

“Not my business to tell.”

“Jake!” a shrill voice that definitely belonged to a little kid broke through the air.

The Daggers all quickly pivoted from Coyote to the boardwalk where a girl, probably around six, sprinted down the wooden path. Hangman picked up his pace and scooped her into his arms, lifting her off the ground effortlessly. And if the Daggers weren’t confused and befuddled before at Hangman’s personal life, they sure were now.

“He’s a dad!?”

“What the hell is he doing with a kid!? This is Hangman we’re talking about, right?”

“She called him Jake, dumbasses,” Phoenix pointed out, though she watched the interaction closely. “What kid calls their dad by their first name?”

Hangman kept walking with the girl in his arms, chatting excitedly with her. Then another kid, a boy probably three or four years old, jumped up onto the boardwalk and raced towards Hangman as well. The Daggers grew even more confused. Hangman leaned over and scooped him up like he weighed nothing, pressing a kiss to the side of the boy’s head.

A woman finally stepped out from in between two cars and pulled Jake in for a tight hug, which he tried to return as best he could with two kids in his arms. The Daggers watched their interaction like hawks but gave each other confused looks when the woman, who they presumed was Jake’s wife, pulled away with just a kiss pressed to his cheek.

“That’s his wife, right?” Rooster asked Coyote, who nodded. “They’re not that affectionate?”

“Maybe five strangers staring at them makes them a little uncomfortable,” Coyote suggested, taking a sip from his beer.

Hangman eventually led his family to the back of the Hard Deck, dreading the conversation that awaited him. Jake’s wife glanced up at the Daggers, who were clearly waiting for them, before turning to Jake. Nudging him gently with her hip, she jerked her head in the direction of his squad.

“Did you tell them anything?”

“Nope,” Jake replied, shaking his head. “Not a single thing.”

The family of four made their way up to the back deck. Setting Leila on the ground and taking her hand as they walked up the stairs, Hangman finally turned to face the stunned and even more curious Daggers. Leila hid a bit behind his leg, always a bit shy around strangers, but he rested a hand on her shoulder to remind her that he was there and that it was all alright.

“Everyone, this is my family. Family, these are the Daggers,” Hangman introduced, half-assed, earning an immediate poke in the side from his wife. Gritting his teeth slightly, Hangman restarted. “Daggers, this is Leila and this is Tyler and this is my wife, Sophie”

After Hangman introduced her, Sophie waved politely in greeting to the Daggers, who awkwardly waved back to her. Withholding an eyeroll, Hangman started on the introductions in the other direction.

“Guys, that’s Bob, Phoenix, Rooster, Fanboy, Payback, and you already know Coyote,” Hangman listed off, pointing at each Dagger as he spoke.

“Javy!” Leila called, running over to greet him.

“Hey, Firecracker,” Coyote joked, picking Leila up and setting her on the stool that Hangman had been sitting on before.

From there, the awkwardness slowly dissipated. Very slowly, but it did dissipate just a bit. Leila and Tyler were running around on the back deck, laughing and stretching their legs after the long car ride down from Lemoore. Hangman had switched his beer for a water and returned from inside the bar with a drink for his wife, whose order he knew from heart.

They were in the middle of a conversation, though Hangman thought that it was bordering on an interrogation with some of the other Daggers when Sophie’s phone started to buzz with a weird ringtone. In an instant, Jake turned to where Leila and Tyler were playing.

“Tyler, come over here,” he called, causing them to stop.

Hangman picked up his wife’s phone and tapped it, causing Tyler to pout. Tyler begrudgingly trudged over to where Jake and Sophie were sitting and Jake quickly scooped him up and sat him on his lap. Meanwhile, Sophie had been rifling around in her purse, pulling out a separate bag.

“Fruit snacks or the granola bar?” his wife asked Tyler, holding out both items.

Tyler quickly leaned over and grabbed the fruit snacks before turning around to hand them to Hangman. Taking them without hesitation or delay, Hangman ripped the package open and poured the fruit snacks into his hand for Tyler, who started to slowly eat them one by one. The other Daggers seemed a bit confused, though Bob instantly recognized the situation.

“He’s Type 1?” Bob guessed, causing Sophie to nod sadly.

“Yes, he is,” she replied, checking her phone again. She showed Jake her screen, causing him to encourage Tyler to eat the remaining fruit snacks in his hand, before turning back to Bob. “You know someone with Type 1?”

“No, my dad has Type 2. My sister has the same set up on her phone,” Bob explained, causing Jake’s wife to nod slowly.

Tyler seemed a bit upset, though resigned to his situation, but Hangman did his best to try and make it enjoyable for him. Teasing Tyler for his choice in fruit snacks, hiding them and pretending to find them in random spots, and other very un-Hangman-like actions that caused most of the Daggers to grow even more confused at the situation, Hangman blocked all of that out and just focused on Tyler.

“Alright, just hang on for a second, bud,” Jake told Tyler, who clearly wanted to play again.

After they were sure that Tyler’s glucose levels were stable, Hangman set Tyler back on his own two feet. Leila, who had been chatting loudly with Coyote and Fanboy, let out a shriek and started to run after her brother again as if nothing had happened to disturb them in the first place.

“How long have you known that he has it?” Rooster asked, watching Leila and Tyler play.

“About two years now,” Sophie explained, folding her arms underneath her as she rested them on the picnic table. “He was only a couple months old when his doctor suspected something. Took some time to get an official diagnosis.”

“He doesn’t seem to let it get him down,” Payback commented, watching Tyler laugh and run around Coyote.

“No, he doesn’t,” Sophie replied with a soft smile. “He’s like my sister.”

“Your sister has Type 1 too?”

“No . . . she didn’t,” Sophie stated softly, her tone earning a few confused looks.

“Leila and Tyler are her niece and nephew,” Hangman supplied, gently resting the outside of his thigh against his wife’s own to remind her that he was there for her.

“My sister and her husband died a few years ago,” Sophie continued quietly, shifting a bit in her seat. “I got custody after they passed and after Jake and I got married, he adopted them.”

And suddenly all of the pieces were starting to fall into place.

Leila eventually came running over, asking if they could go down to the beach. Sophie got up to take them down herself, not trusting two kids who grew up in desert territory to know anything about ocean water safety. And when they were gone, all eyes fell on Hangman. After a long, drawn out sigh, he slowly narrowed his eyes at his squad mates.

“If any of you fuckers even think about going to the brass about it,” Hangman vowed, pointing menacingly over at the gathered Daggers.

“Dude, no one here is looking to take insulin from a little kid,” Fanboy stated quietly.

It wasn’t exactly uncommon for service members to get married for the benefits. And hell, you would have had to have been a completely selfish, heartless, brown-nosing government lapdog to try and get someone in trouble for making sure that a kid with a treatable condition lived happily without bankrupting his family.

“How did you meet your wife then? You knew her before the kids’ parents died?”

“Yeah. We were in a long term . . . situation-ship at the time,” Hangman recalled, earning familiar looks from his teammates. “And she told me that it was a lot to handle and she didn’t expect me to hang around, especially because I was deployed at the time. I came back home to visit her and saw how stressed she looked—she was crying, Tyler was still in the hospital at that point, Leila was barely talking . . .” Jake trailed off, a dark expression coming over his face. “I didn’t think. I just told her to marry me and I’d get it figured out. And I did. They live up with me in Lemoore now.”

“And you guys have an open relationship?” Rooster guessed, earning a sharp glare from Hangman immediately.

“No,” Jake replied bluntly.

“Not even a little?” Rooster asked, alluding to Hangman’s flirtatious personality.

“No,” Hangman stated, folding his arms in front of him. “We’re not.”

“But you’re not in love, are you?”

“That’s complicated,” Jake responded, loosening his posture a bit sheepishly.

“Yes, they are,” Coyote called back, earning a look from Hangman.

“Yes, they are what?” Sophie called out, strolling forward with Leila and a soaked Tyler beside her.

“What happened?” Jake asked, standing up from the table.

“Leila thought that it would be funny to push her brother into the ocean,” Sophie returned, shooting her niece a look. “She thought wrong.”

“He kept pulling on me!” Leila whined, stomping her foot on the ground. “I told him to stop! And he didn’t listen!”

“Well, that’s no reason to try to drown him. Go, sit on the bench right there. Now,” she ordered, causing Leila to huff but follow her order.

“I’ll take him,” Jake offered, walking forward to grab a soaked Tyler from his spot next to Sophie. “Come on, Ty, let’s get you dry.”

Jake reached out his hand for the keys, which his wife handed over without even a look in his direction. It was that smooth, that natural. Jake held Tyler, who had started to shiver despite the warmth, in his arms, not caring in the slightest that some of the ocean water was now soaking his own clothes. Coyote seemed rather amused at the shocked expressions on his teammate’s faces, which Jake blatantly ignored as he strolled away.

“What?” Sophie asked, spotting their confused expressions.

“Nothing,” they all echoed back to her.

Prologue Part 2 Part 3

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vastderp · 6 months ago

Text

I Had A Baby Brother

My brother was found dead last tuesday in his apartment.

He died anywhere from Sunday to Monday, and his landlord got worried and checked up on him and found him on the floor with one hand over his face. There was an open jug of methanol nearby. My sister thinks he drank it, I pray he didn't. It was an ugly, fucked up death.

He was in declining health this past decade because he was a paraplegic and uncontrolled diabetic. There are systems in place to help with low income people in his condition, but they were barred from him as he was a convicted felon.

He went from learning to walk again in the physical therapy pool to drinking a gallon of vodka per day, growing more hostile and bitter as the pain got worse, until his body just gave out. He drove away his friends, he drove away his family, and then he hit the floor and never got up.

I was meant to view the body with my sister and her grown kids, but the funeral home couldn't tell us where his body had been sent, and stopped answering the phone on friday before memorial day weekend, and then we had to wait for someone to follow up on my sister's dozens of phone messages, which they finally did, to try and make their little profit.

My sister, who has been handling all of this along with my niece, selected a different funeral home for the cremation because the first one was disgraceful with my mother's death in 2007, and they're disgraceful all over again with my brother's now.

At one point today they finally established contact, and asked how my sister wanted to handle the arrangements for her "father". O how casual the not giving a fuck goes! Dude pressed to make a sale even after she told him how unhappy we were with their work.

All this to say that I have a car full of inherited possessions, unused medical gear, and the shitty fucked up remnants of my brother's shrine to Mom.

Good old Mom may have died almost 20 years ago, but her gentle, loving mission to smother her only son to death (and probably into eternity) is finally successful. Of all of us, I've often wondered who got it worst: The golden child, the scapegoat, or the parentalized invisible middle kid. Now that one of us has effectively committed suicide, I guess it's for the scapegoat and me to hash out who gets second place. My mother crippled him long before his car accident, in one long and winding but uninterrupted line of consequences from his birth to death. I consider it a murder-suicide. Which was which? They were both the killer, and both the victim. Enmeshment is a motherfucker.

I'm super bitter, really fucking sad, and incredibly proud of what's left of my family for how they're coming together now. (Except my dad, who is in another state, petting his dogs, because I don't think he can really deal with this shit).

So what's left? To go put some cologne on his corpse when they finally let us go view what's left of him. He always liked to smell nice and he probably doesn't right now.

They'll cremate him, and give us a ridiculously heavy cardboard box of ashes that we'll have to carry out, knowing it's all that's left of a lifetime of struggling and pain. Probably we're gonna mix his ashes with Mom's, and make that lifetime of enmeshment official.

I hope if they go to the same afterlife, he kicks her in the cooter. I hope she kicks him back. I hope they can see each other with eyes unclouded by trauma, and forgive each other for the choices they both made. I hope they forgive me for still being mad at them both for not being stronger. I hope I will forgive myself for a lifetime of resentment and blame. I sure got enough time for that.

Jason was funny, weird, secretly really smart but never made a point of it. He was stylish. He was a broken man who could have made better choices and didn't, who was happily fed poison until he couldn't live without it, who was basically his own whole ass Pink Floyd song. His violence sent me running into a better life. His death sent me trudging back into a damaged family with gaping holes like torn out teeth, into the arms of my sister, and we reconciled. There's just us two left now, and it's our job to make something beautiful come out of this jerry springer childhood we shared. We're doing our best.

Dozens of catheters still in the package. Leakproof bed padding in a plaid pattern. Gallons of creams, antacids, fiber supplements by the jar, pressure sore ointments, fungus treatment creams, lidocaine pads, antibiotics, antipsychotics, a hash pipe or two.

An entire apartment hoarded with moist towelettes, pressure garments, and cleaning supplies. An entire life choked with mental damages and crying relatives. I put on CeeLoo Green's "Robin Williams" and sobbed until my face felt burned. It helped.

All the usable/safe to give away medical equipment is being distributed to the other impoverished disabled people in his apartment complex, who will hopefully put it to good use. I got his old manual wheelchair because sometimes I can't walk. I'm terrified of becoming more like him, so back to phsycial therapy I go.

The rest?

The memories, the pity, the jug of methanol that I pray he never actually drank, the stain he left on his floor after a lifetime of compulsive tidiness, the shrine to the woman he killed who also killed him? All these things I will keep with me forever. I will honor him. He could have been so much more, for so much longer. He had a whole story I'll never know. He contained incredible kindness and generosity, and also a rage so deep it was fatal. He was only 41.

If you can spare a couple bucks for the gofundme my niece set up, it'd really help make the financial side of this horseshit a little more bearable while we do all the shit that comes with a death. Thank you for taking the time to read this post, for your sympathies, and for reading my fucked up family trauma dump. Rest assured there will be more.

Dear god, will there ever be more.

Send help. Send pizza. Send sad hip hop. Hail Atlantis. Hail Jai.

#death #gofundme #donate if you can #i had a baby brother

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reneesghostinthelivingroom · 23 days ago

Note

can you do a renee or regina x diabetic reader, fluff/hurt/comfort please! i've been loving your fics

You're Okay, You're Okay

|| Reneé Rapp x nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; some swearing, diabetic reader, reader struggling with low blood sugar, anxiety mentions, fluff/hurt/comfort

|| Summary; Reneé surprises reader with a concert to their favourite artist. The excitement gets away from them and they forget to check their sugar levels..

Requests open!

Started; october 18th

Finished; october 18th

~~~

Reneé had decided to surprise you with tickets to your favourite artist. She was off tour now, so she had some time to just be her. And that included spending as much time with you as humanly possible. The first thing she wanted to do? Surprise you with a concert. Probably ironic; given that she wanted to spend her off time from performing concerts to watch someone else's concert... but hey, she loves concerts, what can she say?

That evening Reneé went to your place and picked you up, not even letting you know where she was taking you. Just that you should dress casual. The car ride there was full of lots of conversations, the topic switching pretty frequently but you were used to that with Reneé. You found it pretty adorable, too. Especially with how passionate she seemed to be about everything. The way her smile never left her face.

"Before we go in.. how's your blood sugar doing, baby? Do you need anything?" Reneé asked, she was pretty good with checking in on you frequently. The last thing she wanted was for you to have a medical emergency, so far they've been doing pretty good. You haven't had one the entire time she's been dating you and she'd like to keep that track record going.

"I'm okay, Neé. I made sure to have stuff before we left and I got some jellybeans in my bag if I really need them." You assured her, knowing how much Reneé worried about you.

"Okay, good. C'mon then, baby." She gave your ass a playful squeeze as she you down, making you gasp a little and swat her arm. Getting a laugh out of her as Reneé took your hand, the two of you running into the concert together.

It was everything you ever imagined it to be, your full attention was on the performance the entire time. Never taking your eyes off the stage as you and Reneé sang along together, the vibes were good. Everything was perfect.

But that can't last forever, can it? You'd both gotten pretty into the concert that you didn't think to check your blood pressure. You didn't notice the headache, or the dizzy feeling that started to overtake you. Until you'd nearly blacked out. Nearly, though. You only lost your footing, Reneé was quick to react and caught you.

"Hey, hey hey. Easy. Baby, what's wrong?" Reneé was trying to keep the anxiety out of her tone as she looked at you, then grabbed your monitor to check what you were at. Shit. She set you down on one of the chairs in the VIP box, immediately going to your bag and skimming through it until she found the jellybeans you'd brought." You're okay, you're okay." Reneé repeated the words over and over like a mantra, both for you and herself. She was freaking," mouth open, baby. Come on."

She urged you to open your mouth, you weren't fully there. So it didn't register at first what she had wanted you to do, but then it did and you listened to her every instruction. Reneé got you to eat the jellybeans, then got a bottle of water for you too from the cooler in the room. She helped you to drink it, staying next to you the entire time. Frequently checking your monitor to make sure you were going back to normal and not getting worse.

When things were okay again, Reneé still didn't let herself relax. Staying on guard, watching you like a hawk the entire time. You took some breaths to calm your own nerves, then looked to Reneé and placed your hand over her own. Bringing it to rest on your lap." I'm okay." You murmured. She just nodded, you could tell she had been trying not to cry. The way her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Your hands went to her cheeks and pulled her in for a gentle kiss.

"See? Okay." You assured her again, whispering against her lips and keeping her gaze on your eyes.

"Promise?" She asked. This time you nodded and you could see as she finally relaxed.

She didn't take your eyes off you for the rest of the night, even after the concert. Always checking your monitor, giving you a couple of jellybeans every now and then. That had terrified her, she was almost sure you were going to pass out on her back there. But you were okay. You were okay and that's all that mattered to her.

#fanfic #x reader #canon x reader #nonbinary reader #renee rapp x nonbinary reader #soft renee #renee rapp x reader #renee rapp x diabetic reader #diabetic reader #renee rapp #hurt #comfort #fluff #hurt/comfort #queer fanfic #reneé rapp #renee x reader #renee #concerts

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suzukiblu · 11 months ago

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WIP Wednesday Game

Taken from @kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

file names:

Kon is too trans for this pregnancy shit

the one where Clark is trans and Kon is not

transfemme Kon and her Amazon soulmoms

Cassie has a sexuality crisis, Kon has a gender one, and Circe makes everything worse

the one where Kryptonians have omegaverse genders, but nobody told Match

( why yes this week is WIP Wednesday: Sex And Gender Is Weird And Complicated Edition™ )

snippet from "Kon is too trans for this pregnancy shit":

Kon slams his bedroom door just shy of hard enough to crack the doorframe, melts the pregnancy test in his hand into slag with his heat vision, and then throws its remnants into his trash can and hides in his bed. Because he’s pregnant. Because he’s an idiot. An idiot who is pregnant. Pregnantly.

Fucking Christ alive, how could he be this fucking stupid?!

Just–Kon has fucked up a whole lot of times in his life. This time is probably the worst time that didn't get somebody else hurt, though. Well, like. Not hurt-hurt.

Somebody is definitely getting hurt here.

Kon kind of just . . . doesn't tell people that he's . . . that he isn't technically . . .

He flirts? A lot? Like, a lot more than he really should. But he flirts with girls a lot. And he is very, very careful about how close he lets those girls get. And he . . . and he . . .

Just–when he actually wants laid, when he really gets the itch, he doesn't go out as Superboy.

There's a reason he never got anywhere with Cassie, after all. Or with Tana or Knockout. Or with . . . anyone he ever actually, like . . . gave an actual fuck about the opinion of or was gonna see again.

He’s not a real guy, after all, so . . . so how could he have? He’s not . . .

When Cadmus was still a thing, he didn't have to worry so much. It wasn't hard to get treatment and whatever, and his files were all very firmly locked down. And when Cadmus went underground, Serling deleted all those files and hooked him up with a little machine that replicates hybrid-appropriate T before she cleared out, because Serling is the fucking best like that and literally the one true ally, as far as Kon's concerned, so . . . yeah. And the replicator has mercifully kept working for him, at least so far, so all he's ever had to do was hide the thing in the back of his closet and make sure the Kents never catch him pulling any of the blue K needles out of their little lead-lined case or injecting himself with said needles. Fuck knows what they'd think if they ever did.

Probably that he was a drug addict or something. That seems like the most logical conclusion for them to jump to. They sure as shit know he's not diabetic or anything like that, so . . . yeah.

They'd definitely think he was a drug addict.

He's sure Clark would, if nothing else.

Although that'd probably be less of a disaster than this, really. At least if he was an addict, he could go to rehab or something. For this . . .

What is he supposed to do about this?

#meme #wip wednesday #omegaverse #wip: kon is too trans for this pregnancy shit #long post

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farter-imperator · 2 years ago

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Too High

Rating: General

Word count: 1,917

Summary: When the ghouls point out that Copia smells really bad after a Ritual, he realises that something is wrong.

Key tags/warnings: Diabetic Copia, usage of medical instruments including needles, blood

It had been on his first tour as a Cardinal.

They were still getting used to life together on tour. Living in close quarters, having to learn to share, long days of travelling being capped off by high energy rituals. Getting used to being around ghouls and their instincts had been a BIG adjustment for Copia. He was slowly adjusting to all the growls and hisses and posturing.

They'd just finished their first New York show, and they were back on the road on the same night, heading for Ohio.

The ghouls had changed out of their uniforms and into loungewear. Copia had noticed that their clothes seemed to be communal, as Rain was wearing a hoodie clearly too big for him, and Cumulus was wearing a crop top that looked a bit too well-fitting to be hers.

Copia himself was dressed in a pair of jogging bottoms and an old ABBA t-shirt, the logo now faded on it. As he walked out of the master bedroom on the bus, he caught the sound of Swiss talking.

"Eugh… Something stinks of absolute shit."

Well, that was nice.

Copia quickly sniffed himself, and yes, he'd remembered to put on deodorant and his ghoul-approved cologne. He frowned.

Then, he walked through to the lounge, where all the ghouls were draped over the sofas. They looked up at the sight of him, and Swiss still had a look on his face that Copia was sure would stick if the wind changed direction.

"Eh…" He looked over his pack, then clapped his hands together, needing to give them a rousing speech after such a good performance. "Wonderful show tonight. Very good, I liked the… Guitar duel, with the- the New York song, very fitting." He nodded to Aether and Dew, who were sat shoulder to shoulder. Dew had his hoodie pulled up over his mouth and nose, like a mask. "And my beautiful lionesses!" He turned to the pair of ghoulettes, Cirrus in Cumulus' lap. "What dulcet tones you sang, what powerful chords you hit." He leaned forward to cup Cumulus' cheek, and she went to flinch away before stopping herself. She leaned into the touch, though her face was one of someone who had just sucked on a lemon.

Copia frowned.

"Alrighty. There is something going on here." He waggled his finger at the group. "What is it?"

"Don't know what you're talking about, Cardinal." Dew shrugged, pulling his hoodie strings so that the hood closed around his face.

"There is clearly something that is the matter. Is someone in heat? I believe it's the smell that's making you… All funny, si?" He put his hands on his hips, not unlike a stern mother, willing to wait out the group.

The ghouls went silent. They stared at him. He stared back, a disapproving eyebrow raised.

Eventually, Rain spoke up. His nose was buried in the crook of his forearm. "We… We think it might be you, Cardinal." He said softly, almost too quietly to hear. "Sorry."

"Me?" Copia's jaw dropped. He sniffed himself again. "Ghouls, I smell fine. I have had a shower, I have dried, I have put on more deodorant and the cologne that your pack picked out for me. The one that you specifically said made me smell nice. How can I smell bad?"

"I'm sorry… You do smell really bad." Mountain winced, his hand twitching to grab the Febreeze from the counter a few feet away.

"I do not!" Copia snapped defensively.

"You really do." Dew groaned, behind the cocoon of his hoodie. Even Aether had covered his own nose and mouth.

"Cirrus…" Copia pleaded, crouching to look her in the eyes. The one ghoul who didn't wear an expression like he'd just rolled in hot garbage. "I don't smell, do I?"

"Um…" She shifted in her seat, gave Cumulus an uncomfortable look. Cumulus shook her head, letting Cirrus deal with this one alone. Cirrus glared at her, her upper lip twitching in a warning snarl, just for a moment. "You… Uhm…" She licked her lips. "You don't smell amazing right now, Cardinal, to tell you the truth." She grimaced.

"Fuck!" Copia growled, standing back up to full height. "What is it, then? What has caused this- this sudden aversion to my smell?"

"Smell weird." Dew supplemented in an almost peurile tone.

"Thank you." He grumbled, the words dripping with sarcasm. "'Smell weird' how?"

"It's hard to explain." Aether huffed, a wince etched on his face from the scent alone. "We don't think it's your cologne. Uh… You usually have a pretty generic smell around you? Like ozone, almost?" He shrugged, dropped his hand to sniff the air, then quickly shook his head in aversion to the scent and clapped his hand back over his nose and mouth. "Sathanas. But now you just smell sweet. Really sweet. Sickly. It, uh. Isn't nice."

"Hot garbage comes to mind." Swiss muttered, and received a slap behind the ears by Rain for that.

"Hot garbage?!" Copia yelped, holding his hand over his chest, as if he was emotionally wounded. "What do I need to do? Do I need to shower, or- or-?"

"It's underneath." Mountain said. "Like this bad scent is woven into every fibre of you. I don't know how long it'll last, but- we really want your normal scent back."

"Hmm." Copia sat down on the edge of the sofa. Rain moved away from him. Thanks. "You say that I have quite a neutral scent usually?" He asked. The ghouls nodded.

"I think it smells like a fresh breeze." Mountain nodded. "It's nice. Nothing like how you smell right now. Sorry."

"And now I smell like…?"

"If a human kit ate their body weight in candy and then threw it all back up." Dew nodded. Now it was his turn to get a quick flick behind the ears by Aether. He hissed at the larger ghoul in response. "What? Just telling the truth."

"You don't have to be such a dick about it." Aether grumbled.

"I smell sweet..." Copia murmured. Then, his eyes widened. "Oh, shit." He breathed. He was up in a second, speedwalking through to the bedroom.

"Told you he'd forgotten deodorant." Swiss scoffed.

Copia was back a moment later, carrying a small black bag, cursing at himself in Italian. "Uomo idiota, come hai potuto dimenticare? Stupido, stupido…" He hissed under his breath, then sat down on the sofa again.

All the ghouls looked at him curiously, but their hands and hoodies and sleeves were still hiding their noses and mouths.

Copia unzipped the bag and dug through it, taking out a small black device, a yellow container, and a pen-looking thing. He placed a paper strip from the bag into the device, then put it to the side. The ghouls were intrigued now.

"What's that?" Cumulus finally chirped.

"Oh, it is, ehhh…" Copia trailed off, uncapping the pen and pressing it into the side of his fingertip. The pen clicked, and Copia withdrew it with a flourish. On the side of his finger was a perfect bead of blood. "It is…"

Rain chirruped, his pupils blowing wide at the sight of the blood just sitting there on Copia's finger, ripe for the taking. He licked his lips, then grumbled as Swiss held him back.

"Ehhh…" It turned out Copia wasn't a good multitasker. He was focused solely on wiping the droplet of blood onto the white card of the device, Cumulus' question going unanswered. He sucked on the tip of his finger as the device flashed, then beeped three times. "Ah, shit…" He whispered.

"What's wrong?" Aether asked. "What is it?"

"Blood sugars." Copia shifted the bag and all its paraphernalia off of his lap and onto the counter. He deposited the tip of the pen in the little yellow bin.

He popped his finger out of his mouth and checked to ensure it had stopped bleeding, then wiped it dry on his leg. "That will be why I smell so terrible to you ghouls." He stood and walked over to the kitchenette, rooting through the minifridge. He came back with a small glass vial with a silver cap.

"I don't get it." Dew said. Like Rain, he, too, was staring at the test strip, saturated in Copia's blood. He wanted to steal it.

"I'm diabetic." Copia gave a small shrug. "Though I don't tend to announce it to the world. Showing weakness is not good when I am climbing the ranks, you know?" He sat down again and started digging through the bag. He brought out a capped syringe and an alcohol pad and lifted his shirt, revealing his soft belly. He ripped open the packaging on the wipe, felt around his stomach for a second, then wiped over the perfect area. "But it is useful for you all to know, since I am in close quarters with you."

"I don't think I've ever seen a diabetic human before." Rain hummed, tipping his head to the side as Copia uncapped the syringe and drew up some of the liquid from the vial into it.

"Seen a few siblings." Dew answered non-committally. He was too busy focusing on what the cardinal was doing. "With needles and blood and stuff. They fucking stink too, now that I think about it."

"Mm, yes, thank you. I was a bit high." Copia nodded to the glucose monitor sat beside him, then tapped the syringe until all of the bubbles escaped it. Then, he turned to the side, hiding himself from the ghouls as he pinched the fat of his belly with one hand and injected himself with the other. He let out a soft hiss, then slowly withdrew the needle. "Done. I should start smelling better soon, I hope."

"That's it?" Cumulus asked, peering around Cirrus as Copia deposited the needle in the container and started to clean up. "How often do you have to do that?"

"Oh, ehhh… Depends. I had a big dinner tonight, but I clearly didn't burn it all off while performing. I'll try harder next time." He chuckled, patting his belly. "I check my blood, eh, five, six times a day? It depends how I am feeling, si?"

"And the injection, do you do that every time?" Cirrus tipped her head to the side like an intrigued puppy. "Can we help?"

"Oh! Ah… I only inject when my sugar is too high. You can probably smell it on my breath, too. Not that I would like to smell my breath, if I were you." Copia tutted, zipping the bag up. "Help? Well, I am pretty well versed in checking my bloods and injecting myself nowadays, but, eh… If you could warn me. When I start smelling bad again. I would appreciate it, si?"

"We can do that." Swiss nodded. He'd stopped covering his nose. "You're already smelling a little better."

"Don't let me get that bad before you make me aware. Though I am offended that you say I smell like 'hot garbage', if you warn me early, I can check and make sure the smell goes away al momento. It will be better for all of us. I won't smell like shit to you, and I won't end up in a hyper."

"We'll prewarn you, Cardinal." Dew nodded, rather seriously for his usually bouncy and stompy ghoul. "Now that you don't smell as bad, you can come cuddle us, if you wanna."

"Ghoul." Copia smiled fondly. "I would enjoy nothing more."

#ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #papa emeritus #my works #bun's fics #diabetic copia #cardinal copia #aether #dewdrop #dew #swiss #cumulus #cirrus #mountain #rain

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siriuslysatorusimping · 7 months ago

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Overboard (Another Level Valentine's Blurb)

HI. I KNOW I'M SO FUCKING LATE, BUT I FINALLY DID IT. I WROTE THE BLURB THAT I PROMISED MONTHS AGO.

IT'S SO FUCKING FLUFFY, BTW.

Another Level Masterlist | Kiko's Masterlist | AO3 💕

Overboard 2020

Rinko released a heavy sigh at the sight of numerous boxes and bags piled on top of her desk when she opened the door to her office. Not a single inch of the surface was visible beneath the plethora of decorative containers, and she couldn’t help but chuckle when one fell off the side.

Stepping forward, she picked up the fallen bag and opened it to find a box of assorted chocolates.

She couldn’t even say she was surprised, but she’d admit that she found it shocking he’d managed to get it done before she got to work. He must have slipped out in the middle of the night.

A smile formed when she noticed a bag of black sesame cookies, grabbing them to munch on as she assessed the damage done to her office.

Overboard, as always, she mused to herself.

Again, she wasn’t surprised.

Admittedly, she had gone a bit overboard on Valentine’s Day to make up for missing last year. Even though it hadn’t been her fault.

The look on Gojo’s face when he realized she’d been able to convince them to sell her ten dozen caramel miso butter cookies in one order was priceless. She’d made it weeks in advance, and it had been ridiculously expensive for cookies. But his smile had made it all worth it.

They’d barely lasted him a week.

The fact that the man still had a fucking eight-pack and no diabetes was completely unfair.

“Like your gifts, baby?” his voice murmured in her ear, drawing a yelp from her as she jumped.

Gojo’s arm wrapped around her waist, his lips connecting with her temple.

“I love them,” she murmured. “You didn’t have to-”

“When has that ever stopped me?” he scoffed, squeezing her tightly.

She took another bite of her cookie, “Did you blackmail Megumi-”

“He asked if I was doing something and wanted to help,” Gojo cut her off, smirking at her raised eyebrows. She knew Megumi was thoughtful, but he also hated showing any kind of affection. “I know. He only got the cookies, though.”

Scanning the items she could see, she hummed when he squeezed her waist tighter. Yuuta and Yuuji had clearly helped as well, and she spotted a pack of rice balls from Toge.

“Did you do all of this last night?”

He just hummed in acknowledgment, leaning down to press his lips to her neck.

“There’s more.” Holding a box up in front of her face, he chuckled when she caught a whiff of it. “Happy White Day, Rinko-chan.”

Warm matcha and chocolate taiyaki filled her senses as she snatched the box and opened it excitedly. Leaning back into him, Rinko took a large bite of one of the pastries. Still fresh enough she had to puff air around the heat, and she sighed at the taste.

“Thank you, Satoru.”

“Anything for you,” he replied instantly. He nosed her ticklish spot playfully, and she swatted his head when he licked it instead.

“Down, boy,” she scolded lightly.

Glancing down, she met his eyes that gleamed at her over his shades.

“I know,” he sighed, lifting his head from her shoulder to peck her cheek. “Not at work.” He accepted a bite of her taiyaki, grinning at her as he chewed. “I’ll be back in a few hours. I’m stealing you away early.”

“I need to-”

He grasped her chin, pressing his lips to hers gently.

“It’s the weekend, baby,” he reminded, nipping her bottom lip. “You shouldn’t even be here today. But I’ll let it slide since shit has been busy lately. Ijichi can handle everything else while you get some rest.”

Leaving no more room for argument, he gave her another quick kiss and swatted her ass playfully as he straightened to his full height.

“Gimme a few hours,” he repeated, pushing his shades up his nose. “Gotta go deal with the old geezer for a bit.”

Smirking, she stood on her toes so she could reach his face, pecking his cheek in return.

“Thank you again for the gifts, darling.”

His sharp exhale was paired with his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Make that a couple hours,” he muttered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

AN: In Japan, on Valentine's Day, the women give men chocolates/gifts, and then the men reciprocate a month later on March 14th, or White Day. The Valentine's tradition began when a company wanted to promote a western tradition for commercial reasons, but due to a mistranslation, it was implied that only men were supposed to receive gifts. Eventually, people decided to have a separate day for women to also receive gifts, which began the tradition of White Day.

Also, he got her sobayaki dan okonomayaki (from her favorite place in Kyoto, which is why he needed a few hours) and they spent the rest of the day watching movies and cuddling until he inevitably got horny

I know this is months late, but hopefully, you guys enjoyed this lil blurb!!

Remember, if you wanna make the caramel miso butter cookies for yourself, you can find my recipe here 💕

#gojo satoru x original female character #gojo satoru fanfic #another level #another level extras #another level blurb #gojo satoru #gojo fanfic #goinko extra #goinko #goinko valentine's day #goinko blurb #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #goinko fluff #gojo and rinko finally getting their happy ending #gojo and rinko #rinko and gojo #rinko and gojo fluff

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the-empress-7 · 8 months ago

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Wait, did she really put this out there? That she 'won' over a dead woman?

Does anyone have the Sunday Times cover with a byline that I paraphrased earlier? I think Roya might have written the story. Something about Game of Thrones and Camilla winning.

ETA found it

What. the. giant. f.

I thought the 80's/90's were raucous, with Fergie doing her shit all the time (the toe-sucking just being one small piece of her antics), the mistressing - just all the crap that went on. And we only had People Magazine to stay on top of it all. :/ But this shit is waaaayyyy over the top.

How the giant f can ANYONE think Camilla won ANYTHING? She is competing against a dead woman! Does anyone really believe that if Diana had lived we'd all be talking about any of this? No! Not a chance in the world.

Oh, btdubs Cam, Diana dead is still almost TWICE as popular as you are alive, pulling all your shit in a desperate attempt to be....what was it? ..... oh yea, DIANA.

This is beyond the pale. Game of Thrones? You mean where the mistress is responsible for the death of the Princess and then goes on to occupy the throne and attempt to become King, shit like that?

I don't get astonished much, having seen it all over the years. But this astonishes me. I won't read the article bc I won't give it the click, but o m g. This is what you do for a living, eh Roya? No wonder Catherine is sick. I don't know HOW she and William live with this shit all day every day.

I thought everyone saw the cover, I don't remember if I posted it or not. It was gross then and it's gross now.

Camilla and her PR were out of control in the lead up to the coronation. The saccharine sweet PR about C&C's love story as the greatest love story of all time, almost gave me diabetes. Both her son and her sister were running their mouths non-stop on top of it all.

God those few months in the lead up to their second wedding or should I say third (once to other people and twice to each other) were insufferable.

Remember all the pressure they put on William to praise Camilla in his speech and William didn't even acknowledge her ass. Which is why I fucking love William.

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plasticfangtastic · 9 months ago

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Building Blocks ch. 1

A Butchlander fanfic

A/N: on a writing hiatus but i wrote this with the last spurt of orginal though I had in my heart, so dunno when ch. 2 will happen, plz enjoy and read my other a/n in the tags:

Sypnopsis: What if Becca had stayed with Butcher, what if she never left and kept that terrible secret to herself, and now it was Butcher who had to deal with Homelander in the aftermath of his wife's death after he shows up with the heartbreaking information that it was this blond supe who was his son's real father.

tags: fluff, HL unhingeness, slowburn, dadlander,so much angst, complete AU.

Chapter One

Hello

“I want a baby.”

Butcher watches the man’s lips move and he hears him clearly but it still seems fake, he didn’t recognize the man, I mean he knew who he bloody was, he was the Homelander. America’s son, for pete’s sake even his prick did– for he pissed on a cup embossed with his face during long road trips.

But now he wished he hadn’t met him.

7 hours ago he had just finished the worst day of his life.

It was a beautiful day, terribly beautiful, birds sang, flowers bloomed and butterflies tickled his nose– lifted from a teenage girl’s dream. Everything about today was dreamlike, covered in a hazy sparkly glow as he had finished burying his wife.

One day she was driving to go get takeout, for they had the house for themselves for the first time in ages and next thing he knows there’s a police officer at his entryway 3 hours after she went to go get scampi.

It had been a beautiful ceremony, the flowers looked so lively under the gentle spring sun, the breeze just cool enough to not make wearing this now disheveled suit unbearable, he arrived home, his father-in-law took him after he had drank a small liquor store while in his house, prostrated by the steps of the basement surrounded by cans and dried tears.

Somehow he was now in his sofa alone, he panicked trying to find his phone to try to find answers before he spotted the strange figure.

He’d blame it on the booze if he hadn’t now been completely awake– he lets him in as the man requested so politely, he had no idea what he wanted, what was going on, other than it was better than thinking that by morning it would become official… that it would become real… the last couple weeks had felt like a bad acid trip that he can’t wake up from, but once the sun returns he knows she’s never gonna come back, she’s in a pinebox 6 feet under and not on her way home– so why not give in to more nonsense.

Why not let this Supe into his home.

“You’re Saunders’s husband?” He said in a firm tone, the man looked at him like he was a worm, he could’ve sworn, certainly not that friendly man he met at that christmas party all those years ago– heard about the funeral… you have… my condolences, she was a great employee.”

Butcher brows crossed, Becca only worked there a couple more months after that party, quitting suddenly and telling him she had found a better job, it paid less yet the hours were flexible, he didn’t question much even if it made his stomach feel things, Becca had loved her job at Vought, she had just gotten a promotion with this man and then one day whatever had happened in the office had left her wanting to leave… of course he would find out weeks later, when he caught her puking and every single thing smelled rancid, what could’ve been the reason after all her new job offered longer maternity leave compare to Vought, it also didn’t include dealing with spandex wearing freaks and it was less stressful, she would come home without much complain compare to before where she could waste 2 hours of her life shit talking her boss.

Between the chronic pregnancy insomnia, diabetes and swollen ankles Butcher gave her no grief for her decision to quit a stressful job.

Butcher had never wanted kids… he was no good for them he'd said… he dreamt of Lenny on his knees pleading and bleeding but it wasn’t Lenny and it wasn’t his ol’ man… it was him and a little boy with hazel eyes, it was him reflected in them, she had been open to the idea but never decisive yet one day Becca wanted a child suddenly. Even at her worst she loved the child inside her… he understood when he first felt his little stubby fingers wrapping around his finger, when he felt that warmth against his cheek, when he saw him waddled towards him, that he understood what was going on inside her mind during those bizarre couple of months.

He hadn’t been perfect, he had been too rough and impatient, he had yelled and wished he could have his old life back but he loved her… and he loved Ryan and he would regret everything wrong he ever did because he loved them, because he wasn’t going to ruin this.

He liked the future they were building for each other.

So he stared at him.

At the bluest eye he’d ever seen outside of his boy’s sunny skies.

Blue’s he thought were from his mother.

Blue’s seen in a hundred billboards but never in his boy until now.

Homelander took a seat on his armrest without getting comfortable placing a manila envelope on his coffee table pushing cigarette ash around it.

“I’m Ryan’s father.”

He spoke bluntly and without hesitation, he had no modicum of decorum simply irritated with nothing in particular it seemed, maybe it was not finding his boy in this place but only a leftover fragrance, that had him irritated.

“8 years ago we had a short fling… I never knew…” he spoke softly, allowing his shoulders to unwind a little– until recently.”

It was the alcohol and the grief and the sleep deprivation that made him pull the man who could have easily shrugged him an acre or two away from his living room as if they were equals on any level, and the blond seemed bemused by this puny man’s might, letting this play out.

“Shut your trap you cunt.”

“I was nothing to her so am not her to emasculate you. I am here because that boy is mine.”

He punchest him, breaking his knuckles bare.

A twinge of a beast twinkles in those hazel eyes, teasing the darkness that he had tried so desperately to bury, Homelander is unmoved as he clutches his injured hand.

“If he’s not mine then could you explain to me why your woman was getting child support from me?” His eyes dart towards the folder, he stands up yet again walking past him not wanting to look at him further– seven years ago she went to Vought claiming to be pregnant with my child, they performed a DNA test and determine it was mine… then–”

Homelander beegins heading towards the bedroom wings.

“Madelyn and Stan… they didn’t want the scandal to ruin my image, for me to have an affair with a married woman, somebody who worked for me… so she signed an NDA, and without me knowing they had been paying her for her continued silence.”

“Lies!!” The brit shouts– You shut yer trap! I don’t wanna hear it anymore, you cunt! Just get the fuck out of me house!!”

“I could kill you. I should… but William…”

“Don’t say my name” He spits– Kill me? Aren’t you a fucking supe?”

Homelander’s light brightens the dark.

Butcher falls into the couch as glass bursts beside him, shards turn to burning liquid slowly cooling down as they burnt the vinyl floorings.

“I could kill you, and there would be a clean up crew who would make it seem like you killed yourself… Kids need their father’s… Ryan needs a dad and you did the job– so as a show of gratitude I shall let you live, but I can take things from here.”

Butcher watched the smoke trail rising from the ground, before Homelander could move towards opening that door, Butcher had leaped towards his direction, any faster and he would give his blue speedster some competition.

“ I read your file… you were a marine, SAS– now you work for the CIA… taking a year off due to obvious personal reasons. You should reconsider.”

Homelander entered the room, catching the strong aroma by surprise, dirt, grass and dirty shoes, a scoffed football rolled away from the entrance, English football teams plastered the walls, toys littered the floor and the bed was the only thing made.

Homelander wished to see at least one baseball poster, or some cards, something more familiar, that he could easily use as a gateway for bonding with the boy.

“Look you son of a bitch! Why are you doing this!?”

“He is mine.”

“So you are just gonna take him and assume he’s gonna love you? Are you daft?” Butcher had dealt with dangerous men, violent criminals and murderers, sometimes he had been made to talk with words instead of bullets or fist and it was clear the second choice wouldn’t work with him.-- I’m his father, you’re a stranger all you’re gonna do is traumatize him and make him hate you.”

“You don’t kno–

“You have no idea who my son is, you just read a line on a paper and made up a fantasy… he… he just lost his mother… he just saw his ol’ man get carried out covered in his own snot and whiskey… my Becca… I…”

Butcher could feel the contents of his stomach rising, he looked pitifully into the room, looking at all the toys and the clothes she had yet to put away still in the basket by the foot of the bed.

“8 years ago… I had an affair… she was my boss… it… I don’ know why… why I did it… it didn’t matter ‘cuz I fukked it all up, then one day… she told me we was having a baby and that I needed to get my shit together, or leave” Butcher laid against the doorframe– I don’t know why am telling you any of this.”

“Possibly a combination of the percocet, and booze in various percentages in your system.”

Butcher had no energy to even roll his eyes or curse at him, annoyed at the man for being obtuse at this moment, he looked straight at him fighting the urge to yell at him to leave.

“You’re the reason she gave me a second chance… she fucked you to get even then she made me raised your baby”

Butcher can only hold himself for so long, he breaks down, it shocks Homelander for all he knew of this man was that he was a ruthless killer, yet he was breaking down, sobbing and struggling to breath as he watched the image of the woman he loved, of the woman he had given all that he had left in this world, hurt him.

A dozen questions hounded him, did she loved him at all? Did she change her mind half-way? Did she do all of this to hurt him one day? When she saw him teaching Ryan how to goal-keep in his grandparent’s backyard– did she do it with malice in her heart? Or did she realize the mistake she had made? Did it all go out of hand? Did she believed her own lies?

He looked up behind the tears, as the world’s greatest Supe kneel beside him offering a t-shirt he had found on the ground to clean up his tears.

He should’ve hated him, he should’ve despised him yet… It was in the way he had spoken this whole time that he knew that he was just as hurt, using anger to disguise his hurt.

He could’ve stolen Ryan, he must’ve known the kid wasn’t here in the first place, he could’ve crashed the funeral and made a scene, he could’ve taken him while he slept the booze off, he could’ve waited ‘til tomorrow afternoon when the boy would be returned to take him away from him– but he came when it was only the two of them, either with murder on his mind or poorly planned out negotiation tactics.

How it must’ve felt to know you had a kid you never knew and want him… he wondered.

His own father would’ve been a happier bastard had he never had him, no doubt his mother’s biggest mistake wasn’t marrying the man, it was telling him they were having William in the first place… the complete opposite of what he was witnessing, when he saw those trembling lips and twitches that no amount of composure could hide.

As he cleaned his face on his son’s shirt, he couldn’t help but to think of how much he didn’t want the kid at first, swallowing his grievances and worries that this was a mistake, that it would change him for the worse and destroy their already fractured marriage… but he kept quiet for all he wanted was to kept Becca, it wasn’t until that afternoon where it was all over, and the doctor handed him that bundle of screams that he understood that he would never be like his father, for all he felt was love.

True love.

A love he only felt that night when he got stuck in an elevator with a pretty brunette, she had her groceries on both hands and one on the ground, cursing that her ice-cream will melt before somebody comes and gets them out.

An ice cream that would never make it to her apartment as it was left empty and discarded in that elevator with a pair of impromptu spoons made of celery stalks, that no doubt confused a neighbor or two.

He had loved her until the point it made him hate himself, that he had to screw everything up because the longer they stayed together, the more difficult it would’ve been to imagine a life without her, because that’s who he was… he was a man that drove others away, that’s why his father never loved him, that’s why Lenny had left him, that’s why his friends had such a hard time being there to put up with him.

And now without wanting, without trying at all, he was on the brink of driving his son away.

“Why do you want him?”

“He’s my son!”

“I ‘eard ya… but why can’t you make another one and leave us alone.” he cried.

“I can’t” He looks hurt– and is not a thing I would ever do! Abandon my child!”

Homelander turned pale, perhaps it was the strange intimacy between these strangers, perhaps it was the fact that they were technically strangers even if they had meet before, or the fact that he had fucked this man’s wife and would most likely not allow him to see daylight after they were done conversing, that made him blurt his most shameful secret.

He took his cape and wrapped it on his hand as he took a seat next to Butcher.

“When I was young, I was told I couldn’t have them… I tried… I tried a lot but nothing ever happened until… three weeks ago, when I stumbled upon this information– I’ll spare you the details… but it was a miracle.”

Homelander chokes slightly, catching the distaste at the force cheery tone on his mouth as he spouts the words miracle, it was true, Ryan was a secret miracle.

But it wasn’t him in those birthday photos holding his little boy with cream on his nose, and a wide smile, it wasn’t him on a camping trip, it wasn’t him holding that baby while giving him his first bath.

He wouldn’t tell Butcher, he had come earlier to survey the area, dig through his cabinets, scoffing at the disorganized sock drawer, or that he had been on this floor watching his family pictures, painting himself in those images.

“It’s that why you and Queen Maeve broke up?” he asked, clearing the snot– your baby batter no good?”

“It would’ve been easier if that was the case… she’s a dyke.”

Butcher turned around and shrugged, only mildly surprised by the news.

“How is he? Ryan… is he smart? What does he like?”

The man didn’t wish to tell him a thing but he was sure Becca would’ve yelled at him if he had, he was hurt and he could at least make her angry.

“He likes school but hates math class, got in trouble once for cheating on a math exam but I couldn’t get mad because I also hated math class… he goes to the same school as my friend’s M.M’s kid and the two are glued to the hip, keep joking he’s gonna end up being related to me for real one day” he chuckles behind some tears– he loves football.”

“Not soccer?”

“It’s football! Your country just wants to be special and call it something else but it's called football, real football!” He sounds less aggressive than Homelander anticipated, like he was talking to a coworker he didn’t dislike– he’s the goalie in his team ‘cuz he’s the tallest kid in his class, swear that boy is gonna be 6’ 2’’ one day…” He chuckles dryly– and he loves movies… he even started making little short films and posting them online recently… he’s such a good kid”

And it bites him.

Of course Ryan would be such a good kid, because deep down he shared nothing with Butcher.

His father was this great hero, this man of pure noble heart… It made him full with relief that his son would never have this darkness inside him, this darkness that came from his scumbag sperm donor, that came from his veins, it wasn’t just Becca’s goodness that made him a sweet kid.

“I like history books and movies… am actually good at math… not to brag or anything, I’m just good at it, could probably ace a fifth-grade math exam any day.” he chuckles dryly.

“Want a drink? I think I need one…”

“Anymore and your bladder will explode… your liver is okay but–

“Don’t do that. It’s freaky.” he said with visible disgust.

Butcher stands up, listening to nature’s call as he heads back to his living room finding that Homelander is already in their long kitchen taking a can of beer from the french doors, their house was spacious, and old 60’s built if he had to take a guess, far from the city in a more woodsy area, they had remodeled together (…mostly Butcher but she picked the wallpaper) but when he thought about it now, it made sense why she would want to be in such a quiet place, even if it was just 1 hour or 2 from New York, the house was unassuming, a place that Homelander would had never given a second glance.

“I don’t want him to hate me… Ryan… the last thing I want in the whole world is for him to hate me… all I’ve ever wanted was a family, all I’ve been denied my whole life is a baby…”

Butcher stared at him, dragging his feet on the terracotta tile, taking the beer he had placed on the counter, cracking it open as he tried to make sense of this man.

“I want a baby…”

“They’re okay… smelly tho” he took a short sip feeling too uncomfortable for his own good– can’t find a woman who could give you one? Sure your Vought doctors would help you out”

“They won’t let me keep them. Not really… the only reason Ryan is here with you and not… somewhere else is because he doesn’t have this inside him.”

Homelander takes out a small pouch from the inside of his boot, it's a slim and small, Butcher stares at it quizzically as he offers it, trembling fingers take the pouch to reveal a small pair of ampoules holding a blue liquid.

“Compound V.” He opens his own can while considering taking an actual sip– I had a child before… before Ryan… killed their mother in the womb… laser her in half… they think my kids should be born with powers because all other supes are made with that… if Ryan… if Ryan had been born with powers, they would’ve taken him from you both, and for some reason your wife keep taking him to Vought doctors as part of their agreement, I'm trying to figure that out but if he had hit sudden supe-puberty– you’ll be dead.”

“You’re telling me supes are man-made?”

“Ryan could still have powers… ”

Butcher held that vial, slowly realizing what was hiding behind his words, as the man took a sip of Butcher’s beer.

“You… you want to make him into one of you cape freaks?” He almost growled.

“Is the only way I can protect him, because they can’t take him from me… if you leave they will find you and if they find you before I do, they will take him to a place not even I will ever find out, and I would flatten all of Manhattan so badly It'll make Hiroshima seem like a kid’s game and yet I know they won’t tell me where he is… but if he has powers… and me…”

“No!”

“Compound V recipient with supe parents are 70% more likely to inherit the powers from the patrilineal line than the mother’s… my powers are divine and will keep him safe, the odds of him not getting my powers is very unlikely, and trust me you don’t want to be on your own raising a child with my powers– not that I’ll let you.”

Homelander left the can to fizz out.

“I think… I think we can make this work… you let me be there for Ryan, and I’ll protect this happiness… we are both in this place because your wife made a series of decisions and now we’re both fucked in varying degrees but believe me when I tell you that I love him… and if you don’t listen to me, I’ll take him from you.”

He walks past him.

His hand on the door to the yard, he looks back at William.

He knows it won’t be the last he sees of him, as he its waved goodbye by a sonic boom rattling his kitchen windows, he thinks of calling Mallory and disappear, take Ryan and abandon the world, but as he made his way back to his bedroom, as he looked at his phone with sore eyes, he told himself that Homelander wouldn’t be giving him a warning if it wasn’t willing to negotiate, he wouldn’t have given him this V stuff to earn his trust.

His fingers moved before he could regret his decision.

“Mallory…”

“Are you alright?” He was surprised to hear that anxious tone in that woman’s voice, he glanced at his bedside table catching the clock reading past 1 am.

“Can we meet tomorrow before Ryan gets here– he’s with Becca’s folks… is urgent.”

“Why? You’re not doing something stupid are you, William?”

“Is stupid but not killing myself stupid.”

“... Butcher…”

“Please.”

“I’ll be there for lunch.”

He hangs, dropping into his pillows clutching that strange vial, thinking of a supe he'd never care about before.

this is the house where most of the story will take place:

#homelander #billy butcher #billy butcher x homelander #butchlander #my fic tag #the scenes involving becca do not represent the author's opinions or attitudes towards becca #this is simply just a bunch of ppl talkign over a victim who is dead and can't explain what happens not what i think of becca so plz dont #unalive me #personal #dont know if there will be spicy so lets call this M rated at best

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sp00kysk3lly · 9 months ago

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You realise no one cares when you’re a type one diabetic, suffering from a virus, haven’t eaten for a week, barely drunk anything for a week, hands and face covered in small red spots and you’re being sick, bang on the floor to get your alcoholic mums attention and she just wakes up and goes to bed….

And this woman is suppose to be my “carer”, yeah ok then. More like she wanted the money, not caring about me.

Pretty much same as my “friends”. One ghosting me, one that doesn’t respond for a week (after reading my message), and one who only wants to talk when they want something.

I’m done. So fuck it. Putting my phone on Do Not Disturb mode and if they want me they’ll have to wait for me to fucking respond to them. I’m done.

My mother’s abuse I can take (barely) I’ve had it all my life. But I thought at least when I got older I’d have decent friends who actually gave a shit about me.

You really know how your future is going to play out once you spend every day crying and alone. Thanks, I guess.

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thalassarche · 1 year ago

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So, I'm sleepless at 1am and I'm tired and I'm upset so I'm going to get out the shit that has been going on for me the past month and a half, because it keeps leaking out in tags and I guess maybe I should not do that. This is going to be long and it's a huge bummer. I just don't feel like I can come out and talk about it directly to anyone because it is indeed a huge bummer and I just. can't deal with like. the feeling of unloading this on someone and then what. but throwing it into the tumblr void and hiding it behind cuts feels less like I'm throwing a bunch of gross stuff at someone's feet so like, yeah. Content warnings for uh, facing the mortality of aging parents, the American healthcare system being a fucking nightmare, mentions of strokes, infections, and other huge medical problems, and basically stuff being awful.

I have lived with my mom as her caregiver for the past three years, since losing my job during covid. She is six years in remission from breast cancer, diabetic, and in end stage renal failure, meaning her kidneys don't work and she needs hemodialysis 3 days a week. I came in mostly to do things like shopping, the majority of cooking and cleaning, be present in case of falls, things like that. It's worked out, mostly. It sucks that she had to move to AZ to live near her brother simply due to the fact that her cozy little house in MT that she got remodeled to her needs has no dialysis centers within an hour's drive and the closest ones had no open seats anyway, not even for a summer stay, because of the nationwide nursing and technician shortage in healthcare. So she lives in AZ and goes to dialysis 10 minutes away. It works out, sorta. But. Since August 1st:

she had a stroke, which affected the language centers of her brain and made speech, writing, and complex communication difficult

she spent a week in neuro ICU for follow up; this was at a hospital 20 miles away in Phoenix. yes I drove there every day to see her.

she was transferred to a rehabilitation center after that week, where she had several good days but then started to experience severe lower back pain.

the back pain got so severe that she was crying and even screaming when being helped into/out of bed, or having the head of the bed elevated so she could eat.

myself and her other present family were very upset about this, because she was in pain! and also it was preventing progress in her PT/OT after the stroke! we wanted them to do something and find out what was going on!

an xray was done. "no significant findings."

we asked for a CT scan or MRI if an xray found nothing.

it didn't happen. maybe insurance said no, maybe assumptions were made that it wasn't necessary.

but mom spent the rest of her 15 days at that rehab facility on tylenol and then oxycodone.

she was then discharged, and yet in no state to come home.

we found a short-term care facility for her that she'd actually stayed at after her initial ER stay that discovered her renal failure. we thought that she'd do okay there.

she didn't. she declined. she was still in severe pain. MWF for her dialysis, she was basically just, done. and they had scheduled her dialysis at 6am. so. the day was just over, no ability for therapy.

they still just gave her oxycodone so even on good days she was sleeping a lot and very out of it.

we asked to speak to the physician and her case worker. we were not able to.

we asked for her to get further testing instead of just this pattern of throwing narcotics at her and watching her decline. it didn't happen.

at the end of her second week there, she was becoming less responsive and more inclined to just sleep.

she wasn't eating. I tried so hard to encourage her to eat, I even fed her. she still would eat a few bites and then be uninterested in more.

one day she only ate a cup of yogurt.

then she was so badly out of it and barely responsive that I demanded that they do something. so they gave her narcan. because maybe she was too lost in the oxycodone sauce. didn't help, they gave her more. didn't help. they called EMTs.

she ended up in the ER, where they did a CT, MRI, and bloodwork.

(this was a week ago)

turns out she has an infection in her spine. which is osteomyelitis, an infection in the bone and bone marrow that just constantly hurts. oh also numerous pressure sores, including a bad one on her heel, and a bad one on her lower back. either could have introduced the infection into her spine.

that infection has spread to her blood. yeah she's got sepsis.

she also has had at least one additional stroke and her speech has degraded even further.

she spent several days in the ICU and it was very touch and go.

it is still very touch-and-go but she's now in progressive care (pcu) which is a downgrade from ICU in terms of how serious.

but yeah. sepsis is very dangerous for young and relatively healthy people. she is 74. her diabetes means her healing is very slow. her renal failure means that her system can't handle a heavy load of antibiotics so they have to be given more spaced out and in lower doses.

it. sucks.

I still go to see her every day and talk to her even if she's not responding. I sing songs she knows. I put on videos of the church services in her hometown for her to listen to. - it. sucks. so. much.

oh yeah also her place here in AZ is in a retirement park and I can only be here because she resides here. so if something happens even in terms of her moving her permanent residence elsewhere I can't stay here.

I have no income I basically just lived here with her and she covered my expenses as my pay for being her caregiver. so like. looks at the potential need to get independent housing, looks at bank account with $30 in it, laughs darkly and decides I can't think about that.

besides I need to think about how this could be the last time I have left with my mom.

it. sucks.

#albatrosities #life stuff shit.#anyway.

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nsk96 · 3 months ago

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Personal rant:

I'm getting real tired of my mom always talking down to me as if I'm a kid that doesn't know anything. I'm tired of her insulting my intelligence.

I talked back to her today and stood up for myself. I was washing some small tomatoes, the tiny ones, for my breakfast. I always wash fruits and veggies with soap (I usually use the dish soap). One dropped into the sink for like 3 seconds and I picked it up and was ready to wash it with soap again. My mom made a fuss saying to throw it away because "the sink isn't clean" despite me washing it with soap before consumption.

I told her we shouldn't be eating on the plates then. She asked why, and I said they touched the sink too and we only use the soap to wash them. She was like "they're not fruits though." I kept going and said we shouldn't be using forks. Then she was like "forks are fruits?" in a condescending way.

She was like "you're the pharmacist, you should know about bacteria" and I said that doesn't mean shit. Pharmacists pick your pills off the ground and still give them to you. Then she was like "well do you think that's right?" I said "no, that's my point."

I went on about how she doesn't believe me anyway, and she was like tell me when I didn't believe you. I reminded her of the time I got a small burn and she told me to put it in ice water and I told her no I need to run it under room temperature water first. Her response was "okay, keep believing in doctor medicine" in a condescending tone.

She was like "I was sharing my opinion, and you shared yours." The problem isn't that she shares her opinion, the problem is that she treats her opinion as fact or the law of the land, and has to make a big argument out of it if she gets any push-back. She literally can't handle being wrong and has to insult my intelligence if I don't do things her way. When you prove her wrong she just goes, "oh." Only a couple times have I heard her say, "you're right," but again, she would never admit that she was wrong.

Another example: in the morning times I'm a little congested and I cough up mucus. She makes a big deal out of it saying that I need to take the cough medicine she gave me a year ago (when I had covid) to stop coughing because it "sounds like it's in your lungs. It shouldn't be there. You need to take the medicine to dry it up". She's referring to a cough suppressant. I don't cough all day, it's seriously just when I have a little mucus which is at most 3 times a day (but usually just the morning). I tend to get it if I eat food I'm hypersensitive to like wheat, egg and cashews. I get a post-nasal drip because of my allergies (despite taking an allergy pill daily). I tell her that I can't take a cough suppressant if I need to cough up mucus.

But she she keeps bringing this topic up and I tell her that if I take a cough suppressant long term and cause myself to not be able to cough up mucus from my lungs, I run the risk of getting pneumonia. She still insists on me taking the cough suppressant saying it will help "decongest" me despite me telling her no. She's brought up the argument over 5 times already, me telling her the same thing every time that I need an expectorant and decongestant, and telling her that cough suppressants really just reduce the feeling to cough. But she's convinced it will help with congestion, and of course her response is "keep believing in doctor medicine", insulting my intelligence every time, as if I didn't spend 3 years in hell of pharmacy school to learn this stuff and apply it to make people's lives better. Next time she says this, I should probably say, "oh that's why you're taking so many medications for your blood pressure, type 2 diabetes, anxiety, and nerve pain, right?"

Honestly, it hurts that she doesn't believe me and would rather me risk getting pneumonia just because she wants me to do as she says.

Then after the whole tomato argument, she still kept going about how she shares her opinion and then "stops talking". I said "no, you don't (stop talking)." That triggered her so much she felt the need to compare me to my dad saying that's the line he uses. I asked what line, and she went on about how he wants her to just shut up. I told her "i never said that".

I told her that what I mean is that she just keeps repeating herself (she repeats herself 3-5 times in the same argument/lecture/talking down to me etc. and keeps bringing things up later on). She was like "i repeat myself because you don't listen. I talk and you don't say anything." Not my fucking fault that she raised me to silently obey her, and scared me into silence all throughout my childhood and teen years. I look at her when she talks, but look away when I'm busy doing something (I learned is okay from her because she does the same). It's funny she expects more when she never taught me that, nor gave me a chance to speak much in the past. And when I say she never taught me that, I mean that when I talk to her when she's busy, she doesn't answer me either. Sometimes when I talk to her she changes the conversation while I'm still talking (which I think could just be that she gets distracted easily like I do, but she'd never admit it). But it makes me feel like what I'm saying is never interesting enough.

I do the same quiet behavior when other people are talking to me. I look at them and either nod, but I don't really say anything unless I have something to add. It's only recently, now that a preceptor on rotation bluntly pointed out that I have a tendency to give him this blank stare, that I started forcing myself to at least go "m-hm" when people are telling me something. It's so bad, that sometimes I don't process what their saying because I'm too busying worrying about when to go "m-hm" and when to make or break eye contact.

Now she wants to call me rude and act like I'm mistreating her when I return her energy. She's done it so much to me, it's ingrained in my behavior now, and I didn't realize this until recently when I started paying more attention to my own behavior and feelings, and how she ignores me or at least fails to acknowledge what I'm saying. I spent most of my life feeling unheard, unseen, not believed, scared (of her especially), crying myself to sleep and comforting myself, and now it's biting her in the ass as I'm finally getting my voice.

She's probably getting scared now, thinking I won't take care of her when she's old and frail. Lucky for her though, I'm a person of my word. She sometimes rants about how the culture in the U.S. tells children that they don't need to take care of their parents (partially because she's still bitter about how my brother left)...while not understanding that:

1) you chose to have a child; they have no obligation to be your retirement plan. It's unfair to dump that responsibility on them for just existing. Btw, she didn't have to take care of her parents, despite wanting to, because they were in Trinidad being "cared for" by her brothers and sisters. So, she doesn't know the sacrifice it takes especially here in the U.S. for one single child to do it. I know, because I see and hear about people who go through it here. I don't blame those people who decide not to care for toxic parents. How your kids treat you when they're grown, is often a reflection of how you treated them as kids.

2) she seems to forget that this same U.S. "culture" tells parents to kick their kids out at 18, and iirc it was once allowed younger in some states. When you choose to become a parent, you choose to raise an adult to have opinions of their own and they will learn things that you probably don't know. You don't have to agree to everything they say, but at least respect their opinions and knowledge instead of talking down to them like they're stupid. You should not be raising them to be your personal caretaker and if you are, you shouldn't be a parent at all.

If she thinks I'm getting like my dad, then she probably shouldn't have forced me to live with him. But I'd say most of my "rude" behavior I learned from her.

One of the things that hurts the most is that I can't even talk to my brother about everything that's been going on. His view would likely be that I should just leave like he did, forgetting that when he left, he dropped out of college because he apparently couldn't balance a job with college (just like me) and his pay barely affording his rent that he wasn't eating. After all he went through when he left, no sympathy for what I've been having to deal with dealing with both our parents and school. Btw, it was our parents' he was running away from, and let's just say they got much worse towards me after he left. He himself even admitted that I got the most corporal punishment and saying "I'm surprised you didn't become a serial killer". When my mom told him what she and I are going through, his response was along the lines of "either put up with or leave" despite knowing I'm on rotations, and rotations are pretty much a full-time job (40 hours a week not including commute time, projects, assignments, and studying). My mom attributes it to brain damage from his motorcycle accident, but honestly, I think he was always like this; his lack of empathy is so much like our parents...like my dad. The only difference is he's always been colder.

The moral of the story I guess: You live what you learn

#personal #rant #pharmacy school adventures #tw mom mention #tw narcissistic parent

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