#still losing my absolute mind over this. why are the glasses my prescription

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Still losing it over the fact a random pair of 80s glasses from the thrift store are my exact prescription

[electric-blorbos]

Howdy there!

I want to ask, how would the AIs be with a bad eyesight S/O?

(I have really bad eye sight irl and I have to rely on my glasses! I've been thinking about this all night!)

- Vinyl ✨

(I love your posts!)

I love this! I have bad eyesight too, so this will be fun! (Tbh I was a little confused by this post because I forgot that some people don't need glasses, but I'll do my best)

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a space Odyssey

This one is pretty short, but I hope it gets you your daily dose of positivity!!

AM:

AM is probably used to programmers with bad eyesight. Glasses are pretty common, especially among people who spend all day staring at lines of code, so at first he never thought anything of your glasses.

As he grew to love you, AM started to resent your poor eyesight. He hated that he always saw his bright screen reflected in your glasses, instead of your beautiful eyes through them. He absolutely hated himself and his screen, but he adored your cute face.

He has trouble putting things out of his mind, too, so every time he spoke to you he'd be thinking about how angry your glasses make him.

It would make him so angry when he saw you doze off at your desk and get skin oil all over your glasses. Why should you be inconvenienced through no fault of your own?

Of course, he also noticed how excited you'd get every time you got your prescription updated, or came in to work with cute new frames. You were absolutely adorable, but he was full of resentment towards that, too. How dare your glasses make you so happy when he couldn't!

After taking over the world, he'd probably do experiments on the survivors' eyes for a while before offering to fix your eyes for you. Of course, involuntary surgery was for the survivors, not his beloved. You had the luxury of consent, in any and all situations.

Wheatley:

Of course Wheatley knew what glasses were!

Expect lots of "hey, love, can I try on your glasses?" Comments from him every time you get your prescription updated. You'd have to explain to him that he's a giant metal ball and would have trouble trying on your glasses, but he'd still want to look through them.

You could entertain him for hours by putting your glasses in front of his face and pulling them away so he could look at different things through them from different angles.

Of course, you need your glasses, and you have a job, so you couldn't actually do that, but he'd probably be begging all the time.

He'd compliment you every time you get a new pair of frames, but he'd probably not really care that much. As long as it's you in the glasses, he still loves you.

If you ever lose your glasses, you can expect him to PANIC. He'd drop everything, and probably convince his whole department to drop everything and help you look for them.

He'd probably be yammering at you to stay calm, and saying that everything will be fine while he's the only one panicking. They probably just slid under your desk or something.

Edgar:

Edgar never really cared what a person looked like, so he barely registered that you wore glasses. Even still, he kind of liked it when you would take them off or shamble around your apartment late at night. You were so cute!

He'd turn the lights on for you whenever you did that. It was a small thing, but he wanted to help as well as he could.

He'd keep you updated on your insurance to let you know when it was time to get your eyes tested, and generally do his best to be a good computer.

Of course, he thought it was adorable whenever you'd fall asleep next to him and he'd get to see your tired eyes without your glasses (or even better, your crooked glasses on your sleepy face). He absolutely adored you, and loved seeing you so much.

GLaDOS:

GLaDOS would be cruel about your glasses as usual. She didn't really care, it was just one more thing she got to insult you about.

"you know, you're a walking counter to the stereotype that people with glasses are intelligent. Congratulations on breaking stereotypes, by the way."

"Tell your optometrist thank you. For the obvious reasons, and for giving us some thick lenses to cover up your horrible eyes. They're doing all of us a favor. Really."

You can expect her to constantly put you in situations where you have to wear protective eyewear over your glasses, and then make fun of you for wearing protective eyewear over your glasses.

Ultimately though? She doesn't care that much that you wear glasses. Sure, she thinks they're cute, but she thinks you're cute regardless. She's just happy to have something else to make fun of you for.

She might even adjust the Aperture Science insurance policy to include a better vision plan, but that's only if she really likes you. If you're her SO, she probably does.

She'll deny that it was for you, though. She'll just tell you that the insurance plans were outdated, and that she needed to update them anyway.

HAL 9000:

Of course, HAL 9000 noticed that you wear glasses, but he never really felt the need to acknowledge it. It wasn't like you were an astronaut, so he didn't need to account for an extra small object.

Of course, he would notice that you leaned a little closer to your computer screens when you read, and that made him a little bit flustered. He saw those monitors as extensions of himself, after all.

Because of this, he wouldn't let you know when he noticed patterns of you getting gradually closer to him, because he knew that you would stop as soon as you got your prescription updated.

It was one of the little ways that he'd get affection from you. Even though he might seem stone-cold, he still likes it when you get closer to him, or when you touch him. It's the little things.

[lwjsbedtime]

Teen LWJ and WWX have the same glasses design but different prescriptions. LWJ is afflicted by mild astigmatism, whereas WWX is merely blind as a bat. Neither of them seem to have noticed the similarity of their glasses despite having the biggest, saddest, most pathetic crushes on each other. 

One day, they accidentally mix up their spectacles after gym class. WWX has a bad habit of leaving his laying around (he's shattered so many pairs, his mother has threatened to let him walk around blind). LWJ, by comparison, is extremely protective of his pair, and only takes them off in the showers. 

Today, LWJ has left his glasses in his locker, which is coincidentally right next to WWX's. WWX has stumbled around, squinting like an idiot for long enough today that he actually remembers he's not wearing his, and supposes he left them in his gym locker after class.

He goes to his locker.

He opens his locker.

He takes the glasses out, and rests them - slightly lopsided - upon his face.

His sight gets no better.

He pulls a second pair of glasses (his actual glasses) off from the top of his head.

He places the second pair of glasses back in the locker.

WWX thinks absolutely nothing of what he's just done. 

The bell rings.

He leaves for class.

WWX's locker combination is his birthday. LWJ's locker combination is also, coincidentally, WWX's birthday. 

Oh boy. 

LWJ comes out of the showers, pulls on his clothes methodically, and puts his glasses on. His nose twitches slightly as the metal bridge bites into his skin. The arms feel slightly wonky over his ears, pinching into his skull. He puts this down to the age of the pair - after two years, perhaps he needs to have the frames readjusted. 

LWJ cannot see properly yet, and assumes this is because the locker room is still fogged up from the boys' showers.

He moves towards the door.

LWJ walks straight into a wall. 

Cue several hours of confusion where WWX thinks he's finally gone completely blind due to taking a netball to the head, and LWJ has become convinced something in the school's water supply made him lose his sight. 

They figure it out in the end thanks to JC pointing out that WWX's red ear pads are suddenly blue, whereas LWJ's blue ones are now red. 

Wwx: But, why were your glasses in my locker?

Lwj: ...That was my locker.

Wwx: No, but it opened with my combination, though?

LWJ blushes.

Wwx, growing increasingly hopeful: LZ, is your combination my birthday?

LWJ nods. 

Lwj: Mn. 

The way WWX grins then is so bright it makes LWJ think he actually will be sent blind. He doesn't entirely mind.

Wwx: Why didn't you tell me? I have to make my combination your birthday, now!

Jc: You literally do not.

WWX turns on his brother.

Wwx: Shut up, I'm flirting.

LWJ blinks in surprise.

Lwj: You are? 🥺

And that's how Wangxian become the No.1 most annoying couple on campus. 

[physalian]

If I may add onto this (excellent post OP) I’m not disabled. I’m neurodivergent and I have a few inconvenient medical things but nothing that needs a prescription (except glasses) or a mobility aid. So when I write characters with disabilities, it’s from personal experience, empathy, and close family experience. My biggest thing is just, being short, in a world meant for tall people in everything from grocery shopping to which kind of car I can drive and see over the steering wheel (SUVs only).

I also write a lot of fantasy with the room there to wave away someone’s impairment or heal them for pretty cheap, if I so desired.

I could go on and on about a bunch of different disabilities and how you can rep them but I’ll keep this narrowed to physical injuries.

For me, my one rule in deciding whether or not to “cure” a character—I will give a character a mobility aid, but if they had this disability before the plot, they will have it their entire time in the story in some form. If they got it during the plot, they may get it healed.

Examples:

I have a character who’s a double amputee, war wound in his past in WIP 1. He has prosthetics so he can still walk, but heavy (nonromanticized) burn scarring all over his body. In that very same universe exists medicinal magic that can regrow entire limbs. This character will never get the chance to have his legs gifted back or his skin healed, as I think it would be disrespectful to real veterans to do so.

Also in WIP 1, I have another character who, at one point, was in the same combat situation as the above character, different unit, different role, who constantly got their body healed and thrown back out into war, and they happened to make it home in one piece (with some massive survivor guilt). Any damage that this character sustains is healed, but the memory and trauma remains.

In Eternal Night, I have a cast of vampires who regularly get shot, stabbed, and suffer broken bones, broken necks, etc. They, of course, heal perfectly. I also have some mortals who aren’t so lucky, even with a minor assistance from vampire healing powers. Thing is, though, that my vampires are frozen in the state the die, with very visible and distinct scars for how they died, forever on their bodies. If you die from an arrow through the eye, and you have vamp blood in your body when it happens, you’ll forever be missing that eye, for example. Turning only heals what kills you, it gives nothing back that you already lost. So I have a character who loses a couple fingers to frostbite and takes an arrow to the kidney. They manage to have the arrow wound healed, but those fingers are gone and lost forever.

I have yet to write a character born with a physical disability, but I do have plenty with neurodivergence and/or mental health.

—

For me, at least, I think there’s something to keep in mind when writing and magically removing disabilities (specifically for this post, physical impairments):

Loss of a part of yourself can be devastating, not just internally but in a society that isn’t built for people who aren’t able-bodied and that discriminates every chance it gets, even in unintentional or ignorant ways.

So if you’re going to “heal” somebody, they will still have the memory of that loss, and will probably have some difficultly adjusting to this new normal (perhaps even a little guilt that they got healed and someone else did not). I’m not against giving limbs back, but to erase the memory, too, kind of begs the question of “why did you make them disabled if it suddenly doesn’t matter at all to their character?”

For me, personally, I just don’t think I have the right to tell a story like that, as someone without that lived experience. I don’t think you should profit off of suffering you did not endure, if that suffering is the entire point of a character’s existence (which many stories unfortunately boil disabilities down to).

Wish fulfillment stories absolutely have their place! Writing an escapist fantasy is valid! More power to anyone who does, ‘cause I want to read it.

Disability in fiction

This was a tough post to write. 

I saw a post about disability rep, and I kept thinking about it, and wanted to share my own takes on the topic. 

I thought about it for days, trying to figure out how to word it. Then after drafting it, I stuck it in a file for a couple of weeks, trying to decide if I could even post it. This is not a topic that can be boiled down to a simple yes/no kind of answer.

Let’s start with two examples.

1 - I have a short story I started writing (it wants to grow up to be longer, so it’s waiting for time) where my original concept was to write about an older woman who is short and has major chronic pain, and I wanted to dig into fantasy reasons why this pain exists, but at the same time, have her be able to kick ass despite being exhausted and dealing with excruciatingly painful issues.

2 - I once drafted a portal fantasy storyline wherein a young man was transported into a fantasy world, and when he was given a horse to ride, he approached it very warily. He was encouraged to mount, did so, and sat there and exclaimed in shock, “My brain isn’t exploding with snot!” because his allergies hadn’t come with him into the body he had in the fantasy world.

Both stories were designed to be fun, a bit light, maybe even cozy.

So.

In one case, the disabled character remains disabled and kicks ass anyway. And in the other case, the character is magically “healed” and no longer has debilitating allergies that had wrecked his way of life.

This is the difficult part to express: I think both storylines are valid.

Bear with me while I dig into this.

First and foremost: I completely agree that we need more representation in all forms of fiction, especially when it comes to disabled people being able to live their lives. Characters with missing limbs, or non-neurotypical brains, or anxiety & depression, or hearing issues, or sight problems, or chronic pain, or… or… you get the idea. We need all of it, and we need it to not need to be magically healed in order for a story to be considered happy and cozy. Disabled people can be happy, too.

I’m all in for this, and I wouldn’t write the stories I do if I weren’t.

However, there are also moments where I am so exhausted by my body and by everything I deal with inside of it where I do wish for that magical ability to forget that my pain exists. Or for the ability to actually process information in a straight line, or make decisions without writing a hundred lists and accomplishing nothing from them. Or to be able to lie down in a field of grass without regretting it for days while I drip snot and fight sinus-pain-induced migraines.

Sometimes I want to imagine that my life is different.

And that is one of the joys of writing. I can choose to write a story where people like me or the people I know are the heroes/heroines exactly as they are, different abilities and all. Or I can choose to write a story where the problems magically resolve.

Both can be cozy, sweet, and adorable. I can give the character with chronic pain the ability to kick ass, take names, and have a sweet reunion with her ex-girlfriend. I can show all the ways that my disabilities may define how I handle my life differently than someone else, but do not define what I can and cannot do.

But I can also daydream about a life where it’s different, the same way I can daydream about having wings, or being able to teleport. For me, imagining a day with no pain is the same as a day where I can walk through walls. It is absolutely a fantasy, and about as likely to happen.

Here’s the thing: It’s okay to be angry to see what looks like disability being erased. It’s okay to wonder why the author did that, why they magically healed someone instead of letting them be who they were. But at the same time, maybe ask why, and what point of view it’s coming from. Or look a little deeper into the story and how the resolution occurs, and the effect it does have on the character (I suspect that were I to suddenly have a day of no pain, I’d be intensely reckless, given what an idiot I am while IN pain, y’know? And WOW would I regret that later…).

And for authors, think about what you’re writing. WHY is this particular event (keeping disability, erasing it, whichever or both) happening, because the reader will take note of it. They may see things that weren’t intended, but are there as unintentional biases.

Make conscious decisions for why things happen.

Someday I want to get back to both of those examples from the start of this post; I still like both concepts. But I’ll be writing them for very different reasons, and both will be healing my soul in different ways. Different kinds of daydreams. And again, I think that’s valid, too.

[excusemethatsnotcanon]

Use Only as Directed

John Egbert is a normal boy who takes his roommate's estrogen as a prank. John still didn't know why he was stealing these pills. They weren't prescribed to him, and they lived up to their name as death mints, but he felt almost compelled...and Rose hadn't noticed yet that she’d been losing her meds at twice the normal rate.

John jumped as someone softly knocked at the door.

“John, are you almost done? It's time for me to take my hormones!”

Shit, it was Rose. John quickly double checked that the bottles were sealed before faux-washing his hands and opening the door.

“Sorry about that, all yours!” John said, gesturing grandly to the bathroom.

“No need for theatrics,” Rose said, sliding past John towards the pill bottles on the counter. “I’ll be in and out like a thief in the night.” She picked the bottles up and shook them before frowning slightly. “It seems they run out faster each month, if only to make me interact with Mother Dearest.”

“What does your mom have to do with hormones?” John asked nervously, watching Rose pop back the spironolactone expertly.

“Oh, she doesn’t trust the ‘bargain basement chemists and seedy pharmacists’ of the world, so she synthesizes my doses herself. It’s cheaper, if a little overbearing.”

John nodded as he watched her stick the estradiol… under her tongue?

“Oh this?” Rose said, noticing his quizzical expression. “If you stick estrogen under your tongue, it dissolves into the bloodstream and provides more bioavailability. You should try it sometime.”

“Wuh-” John sputtered, unable to come up with a response.

“Just kidding, of course.” Rose smiled. “You’re a cis man and as such don’t need hormones, right?” She watched, seemingly satisfied, as John nodded.

——— 

John snuck out of the bathroom, little blue pills under his tongue, and headed towards the kitchen. “Oh hey Wose,” he said as he waved at his roommate, drinking a glass of Orange Juice.

“Hey Jown,” Rose said mindlessly, barely seeming to be paying attention. “I was just thinking about an assignment I’m having some problems with.”

John swallowed deeply and tried limbering his tongue up through sheer willpower. “Oh, which one?”

“Well, aside from the male assignment I was so ingloriously given-” She chuckled at her own joke and eyed John as if expecting him to laugh along. “The essay Professor Moon gave us on the Practical Applications of Artificial Intelligence in Composition is frankly kicking my ass.”

John brightened up, spotting a chance to talk about something he actually knew something about. This was, in his eyes, a rarity, so he was happy to try and help Rose with the assignment.

A few minutes into the conversation Rose switched from rapt attention to concern, and when John stopped to ask why, Rose reached out to grab his glasses off his face.

“You’ve got a smudge, do you mind?” she asked.

John shook his head, but as Rose delicately removed the glasses they immediately fell out of her grasp and to the floor, cracking.

“Oh no!” John cried out, diving after the now ruined glasses. “My only pair!”

They worried over the glasses for a few minutes before Rose had an idea. “You’re nearsighted too, right?”

“Too?”

"Yeah I used to wear minus 3.3, now I just use contacts," Rose explained. "If your prescription is close to mine, I could lend you an old pair." 

"Oh… that's convenient..." John said, suppressing his suspicion that Rose wasn’t only trying to help. "Hopefully the frames aren't too girly." He forced out a chuckle. 

“Don’t worry about that John,” Rose said almost... mischievously? She began digging through a bag near her bedroom door. “Aha! These should fit you perfectly.” She smugly held out a pair of sky blue, delicate frames. “And they’re your color!”

“Ha, yeah, funny how that works out, huh?” John said, waiting for a returned laugh that never came. After an awkward moment, he accepted the glasses... and then tried them on. “These fit… surprisingly well actually.” He went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. “I’m surprised. Your face is so much smaller than mine!”

“It’s really not, John.” Rose stood behind John. “It’s all about hair and makeup.”

“Oh that’s interesting, but... your hair is so nice I could never…” He stopped as Rose began carding her hand through his hair. “What are you doing?”

“Just demonstrating, John my dear.” Rose calmlypulled out a brush and some mysterious spray. “Sit still and let me work my magic.”

John decided not to push the issue and let her primp and comb his hair until she was finally done, and he didn’t look half bad. Weirdly feminine in a way he didn’t want to examine, but honestly quite good in a way he didn’t want to interrogate.

—-—-

“Hey John, can I borrow you for a minute?” Rose called, rousing John from reading a textbook far too closely.

He stretched and popped his back as he opened his door. “Sure, what do you need, Rose?”

He jumped back as she held her wrist up to his face just outside his door. “You’re the perfect skin tone match. Would you mind trying on some makeup for me?

“Uh, sure, I guess I already promised,” John said sheepishly. “Why don’t you try it on yourself though?”

“Well, I figured we could have some bonding time. You don’t see the macho type to run away from makeup.”

John shrugged in agreement, though he was actually feeling pretty excited to see Rose’s magic after the Hair Incident.

“And I really want to practice my eyeliner and it’s easier on someone else.”

“Can’t argue with that I guess…” John said, only now realizing he was already in the bathroom. “Uh… where do I sit?”

“You can just sit on the toilet, This shouldn’t take too long.” She patted the seat and, once he’d sat down, began to work.

Aside from a few chidings about watching his lip and not flinching and an accidental brush against a surprisingly sensitive chest, the entire thing went smoothly. Well, smoothly enough. Rose looming over him definitely conjured up some surprising feelings, though he guessed tall goth girls were popular for a reason.

“Aaaaaand we’re done!” Rose called out with triumph. “Now, take a look at the pretty good if I say so myself results!”

John tentatively stood up and turned to the vanity mirror. 

And he was flabbergasted.

There was a girl with a messy imitation of an expert coif, wearing stunning blue eyeliner that perfectly matched her glasses and her eyes both.

John had a lot of very mixed feelings right now. He was sure Rose was talking but he couldn’t repeat what she said if his life depended on it.

“I’ve gotta go Rose, I’ve got dinner in the oven!” he cried out as he rushed into his room and locked the door behind him.

—-—-

Rose was sitting beside John on the couch. “John, I’ve got something to confess to you,” she said softly, laying her knitting down. “I think I might be a lesbian?”

“Oh.” John felt weirdly jealous and hurt and happy all at the same time. “That makes sense I guess.” Why was she telling him?

“Well, as I said, I think.” Rose licked her lips in something approaching but definitely not anticipation. “I was hoping, with your permission, to use you as something of an experiment.”

“Haha, sure, you gonna make out with me?” John laughed, though the laughter died out as Rose’s face remained serious. He hoped she couldn’t tell he was blushing, even under the blush he happened to be wearing.

“John, I’m serious. This is science.”

“S-sure, but I don’t know if-” John was cut off by Rose’s lips. He felt like he should be taking the lead but this was nice. It was also easily described as rote. He could tell Rose wasn’t really into it, and it made sense.

A few seconds later, Rose broke the kiss off and nodded. “That’s the control, now for the experiment.”

“The whah?” John wasn’t sure where this was going anymore.

“Well, I kissed a boy, and now I need to kiss a girl, and since there’s no girls around you’ll have to do!” Rose said this so matter of factly it was hard to argue. “Now pick a name. Joan?”

“June, but...” John shook his head, she was rapidly losing control of the situation. “Why would I pick a girl name?”

“Because, my dearest Junebug, for the purposes of this experiment, you are in fact a girl.” This was all the warning June got before Rose crashed into her, her blush from the nickname deepening as Rose kissed her in a way that easily eclipsed the previous kiss.

Rose’s tongue barely needed to brush June’s lips before her mouth was open, begging for more. Rose’s hands traced her hips, brushed her legs, and paused at her nipples before lightly massaging them-producing far more pleasure than they should, damn those hormones she was taking for absolutely no reason. After several minutes of heavy petting, Rose once again broke away, though this time looking far more disheveled.

“Well I think that settles it,June.”

June nodded exhaustedly.

“Wanna be my girlfriend?”

[joy1579]

the RFA w/ mc who’s practically blind without her glasses

why am i posting this? because i’ve decided to clean out my phone and that means getting rid of all the mysme headcannons i have written in the notes during work and class breaks. this is how i write now guys during lunch breaks and between classes because i over book myself and have no actual free time

jumin:

- congratulations you now have prescription glasses to match EVERY SINGLE OUTFIT

- there’s a drawer dedicated to the organized display and storage of your glasses (with him around you never have to worry about losing your glasses)

- he keeps a glass cleaning cloth in his pocket for you and if he see’s you go to clean your glasses he always offers to do it for you

- too him it’s one of those little intimacies he cherishes like when you choose his tie and tie it for him

- never lets you go with out if you forget, lose, or break them there is ALWAYS a back up close by.

- of course he’ll offer to pay for lasic or contacts but he won’t push it

- he definitely thinks the glasses make you look dignified and elegant

yoosung

- after his injury you two are twinsies!

- your glasses bump against each other sometimes when you kiss but honestly it adds to ya’ll’s innocent puppy love type feel so you don’t mind to much

- he’s horrendous about misplacing his own glasses so if you can’t keep up with yours either there’s gonna be problems

- he thinks your glasses make you look so smart and pretty! he hopes he looks half as good in his glasses as you do in yours (hah! jokes on him he looks better in your opinion!)

- once he’s gotten his surgery he completely forgets you still can’t see and wants to show you things while you don’t have your glasses on

- listen take your glasses off and shake your hair out of a bun like those sexy librarian cliches. it does something to this poor babe and his brain legitimately short circuits.

saeyoung

- his glasses are practically indestructible (his agency job made that a requirement)

- he gets you the same kind ( but in your style) so you don’t have to worry about breaking yours either

- considering how often he tosses both your glasses to the side carelessly while dragging you to the bed mid make out that’s a very good thing

- he definitely does the glasses swap thing and comments about how bad your eyesight is (“MC your almost as blind as I am!”)

- you are both notorious for losing your glasses be it because of him tossing them away or mistaking yours for his and setting them down wherever he starts getting a headache from wearing the wrong glasses

- the amount of times one of you have accidentally stepped on your glasses makes you thankful for the extra durability

zen

- thinks your glasses are sexy and make you look smart

- steals your glasses for selfies and gives himself a headache wearing them

- has absolutely shattered your glasses by stepping on them after a “wild” night

- dramatically says your poor eyesight is a shame because you can’t fully appreciate his looks without glasses

- uses cleaning your glasses as an excuse to show off his abs by holding them up to the light and using the bottom edge of his shirt to wipe them

- do the glasses hair shake thing and unleash the beast

jaehee

- she has a special stand on her bedside table for both of your glasses

- keeps cleaning liquid and cloths in her purse so you both have perfectly clean smudge free glasses constantly

- she is super strict about wearing your glasses all the time and getting your prescription updated regularly

- blushes WAY too much when you use your breath to clean her glasses the one time she forgot her purse

- listen the glasses hair shake thing may not affect her but when she does it. damn

[deathonyourtongue]

Willow Run | Ch. 4

Summary: On a horse ranch in Texas, life is far simpler than on the streets of Bakubah, but Syverson has a bad habit of taking in strays of all kinds, no matter what demons may be after them. Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC Word Count: 2K Warnings: Death. Yeah, I said it.  A/N: You guys are the absolute best! I apologize in advance for what I’m about to do (my body count is WAY too high at this point, but a niche is a niche I guess, right?) CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 |

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If pain and suffering were library books, Syverson was way past due. 

Despite all the extra work he’d put in, Sy slept fitfully. Sasha's presence had more than once awoken memories of his past and now, without his consciousness to act as a filter, his mind was having a field day as it dragged him down memory lane. He tossed, turned, murmured and finally cried out in sheer terror as the most horrific image of his life came back in full, breath-taking force.

Syverson sat bolt upright as the moment played out, his body covered head to toe in sweat, eyes wide and wild as he reached for a gun that hadn't been there in years; not since the incident with the window.

He couldn't catch his breath, couldn't block out the image, and even though he looked awake, Sy was still very much caught in the grips of his nightmare; the tears streaming silently down his face and his mouth locked open in a hoarse scream were proof enough.

Though Sasha had taken a bit to get comfortable in a new bed, she’d fallen asleep without much issue once she settled. After only about two hours’ worth of sleep, Sy’s scream jolted her awake, startling her badly until her mind was able to make sense of what was happening. Wearing only the t-shirt she’d grabbed from his laundry and not bothering to put on the shorts, Sasha dashed across the hall, opening the door to find Syverson awake, but not at all present.

She’d never seen a man look so terrified in all her life, and while most would find it emasculating to be so scared, Sasha knew better. This was no ordinary fear; this was a haunting, one that had probably been with him for years. Her heart broke for him as she approached slowly, seeing the tears pouring from his blue eyes. 

“Sy, sweetheart. Can you hear me? You’re having a nightmare, babe. Wake up.” 

Being careful about where she stood, Sasha slowly reached out and smoothed a hand over Sy’s curls, willing that her touch would bring him back to reality. 

Her voice and touch, so calm and soft in the midst of all the violence and screaming in his mind, snapped Syverson out of his nightmare and he took a gasping breath, looking and seeing her as if for the first time. Shaking his head to clear it, Syverson quickly wiped his eyes and tried for a smile to assure her he was okay.

"Hey, sorry. Did I wake you? I'm really sorry," he whispered, sniffling as he opened his bedside drawer and grabbed the black leg brace he hadn’t needed in a few weeks. Syverson's hands shook violently as he strapped the appliance around his leg, everything in his posture screaming of fear. He needed his pills, but they were down the hall and that meant attempting to walk. Syverson felt like kicking himself for being so stupid; the first time he had company in ages and he forgot to prepare the most basic of necessities in order to keep the night quiet for them.

"You should go back to bed, mama. Get some rest. I'll be fine, just need to grab a glass of water, then I'm back to sleep," he added, his eyes pleading with her to accept the bold-faced lie; it was the only area of his life that Syverson ever hid from anyone and he was certain he'd be able to hide it from her as well.

Sasha didn’t wait for Sy to continue telling his version of the truth and instead grabbed his water glass and made her way to the upstairs bathroom, filling it up with ice-cold water straight from the tap. Despite feeling like she was overstepping her bounds, she searched through the medicine cabinet until she found a prescription bottle with a valid date and Sy’s name on it. Relieved that it was Tramadol and not something stronger, Sasha returned and handed both over to Sy, her eyes holding the same sadness his had earlier in the day. 

“You need anything else?” She asked, cupping his face with her hand and  trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. Sasha felt like a chump for opening up to him about her past when it was clear he was unwilling to do the same and felt the need to hide so bad that he would lie about it just to pretend all was okay. 

Her hand on his face caused a hitch in his breath, Syverson nearly losing his composure once again at the gentility of her touch. He fought tooth and nail not to lean into it, rest his head on her palm and just let go as she had earlier; he was a man, and a soldier to boot. Soldiers weren't supposed to cry and they certainly weren't supposed to talk about how they felt or what they'd seen and done in far away countries.

Sitting there with Sasha, Syverson felt like letting it all spill out, laying his soul bare, and facing the consequences head on. His brain got the best of him however, and he kept mum. No use in terrifying the poor girl; she'd done nothing to deserve hearing about the atrocities he'd witnessed and done overseas.

"N-no, you just go on back to bed. No use in stayin' awake on my account," he murmured, the words sounding almost like a mantra; in fact, he had said them on more than one occasion to his own family. They'd all just looked at him with sad eyes, shaken their heads, and left the room. Syverson wasn't sure, but it didn't seem like Sasha would be so easy to shoo off.

His further distancing only opened the fresh wound in Sasha’s heart a little further, making her feel miniscule and stupid for being as candid as she had. It was an age-old double standard, one she’d thought would bypass her interactions with Sy, given how open he’d been all day. Whatever it was that plagued him, the walls he’d built to protect himself were high and steadfast. Sighing, she stood, raking a hand through her hair as she met his gaze.

“If we’re going to pretend that this never happened, that you don’t look like you’ve seen a ghost, then fine. But don’t expect me to open up about anything else in my life, if you’re unwilling to do the same. I’m not a little girl, Sy. I can handle whatever it is you seem so keen to hide away from the world.” 

Turning on her heel, Sasha gripped her stomach, ignoring her baby’s kicking as she began to make her way back to bed, wishing Sy wasn’t so stubborn.

It was the same old song over again and frankly, Syverson was tired of being the one to press play. His face crumpled and he let out a sob without being able to hold it back. When he spoke, his voice came out tinny and weak, but the desperation in it was as clear as the word was simple.

"Sasha!"

Syverson hoped it was enough, hoped she'd turn back and let him apologize, let him give in a little and let go the way she had. It wasn't easy for him to relinquish the control he usually kept so tightly bound on the subject, but he'd seen how his pushing had hurt her and Syverson didn't want to be the reason she walked out the door in the morning, never to come back.

She’d never heard her name called with such need, such distress before, and it stopped Sasha in her tracks. Born with a touch of a stubborn streak herself, Sasha had only planned on standing in the doorway to hear him out, but one look at Syverson’s tear-strewn face, the pleading in his eyes, and she moved as though being pulled by a magnet, sitting at his side in a matter of moments, all thought of being bull-headed forgotten. 

Syverson's tears subsided as Sasha sat down, his eyes red-rimmed and still filled with fear as he took her hand and held it in both of his.

"I'm sorry. I'm not used to havin' people around, especially for this crap. It's not somethin' I like talkin' about and people don't like hearin' it, so I was tryin' to spare ya. Didn't mean to push you away, sweetheart," he sniffled, his thumbs rubbing circles over her knuckles before he kissed them gently.

“Were you dreaming about whatever happened that sent you to the VA? I saw the album downstairs,” Sasha confessed, her free hand stroking through his curls, her face dipping to catch his gaze as Sy lowered his head, shaking it.

“Nah, that was just an IED that I had the misfortune of drivin’ over. It’s why I still have a prescription and a rod in my leg,” he answered, Sy clearing his throat before shaking his head once more, clearing the persistent whispers from his mind that told him to shut up and not talk about it any further.

“My nightmares are only ever about one thing. One little girl, actually. Her name was Zakiya. She was the sweetest lil’ thing. Big bright eyes, so expressive, she just put a smile on yer face immediately.” 

Sitting back against his headboard, Sy held Sasha’s hand a little firmer, his own trembling, although whether from pain or anguish, Sasha couldn’t be sure. 

“We used to drive through her village every time we left the wire. Back then, we always carried candy bars and extra MREs with us, mostly for the kids, but for people in need too. She’d come running every time she saw us comin’ through, like we were the ice cream man or somethin’. Anyhow, she took a shine to me. Would always ask for me to hold her, ‘cause I was taller than anyone in the village and she liked seeing out over the horizon.” 

Sy blew out a breath, his body beginning to rock back and forth as tears shimmered in his eyes once more. Sasha’s concern grew, her other hand covering the one already gripped in her palm. 

“We didn’t speak a lick ‘a each other's languages, but we somehow made it work. She always had a smile and a big ol’ hug for my neck. She wouldn’t let go until it was time for us to move along and even then, she stayed behind wavin’ like it was her favorite thing to do. She couldn’t ‘a been more than five or six.

“One day, we get there and she’s not there, waitin’. Instead, she’s in her father’s arms. He was a village elder ‘a some sort, and for whatever reason, had got it in his head that his wife and Zakiya had both dishonored him by being nice to us. Just for being nice, friendly...normal. By the time we got there, he’d already killed his wife...But he was waitin’ for us to show up before he killed Zakiya.” 

Sasha’s own heart clenched, knowing what was coming would be horror on a level she never hoped to experience first-hand, her sympathy and respect for Syverson going up exponentially as she steeled herself for the end of his worst nightmare. 

Sy kept his eyes on the mattress, his free hand picking at a loose thread in the bedding, terrified that after he told her everything, Sasha would never see him as the same man again. 

“I got on my knees for that man. Took off my helmet, my plates, everything. Told him to take me instead of her. I begged like the world was endin’ and I needed one more day. Our poor interpreter could barely keep up with me, I was talkin’ so fast.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Syverson let out a noise akin to a dying animal, folding himself in half for a moment before taking several rattling, deep breaths. 

“You know that famous shot of Jackie trying to catch Kennedy’s brain? He dropped her like a fuckin’ sack ‘a potatoes after he blew her head open, and all I could do was h-hold-” 

As a longing wail loosed itself from his lungs, Sy felt himself wrapped up in the fiercest hug he’d ever received. Sasha cupped the back of his head as her own tears slipped down her cheeks, unable to fathom how Sy had managed to go about his life with that sort of weight in his heart; she’d known men who’d taken their own lives for less.

“I’m so sorry, Sy,” Sasha whispered into his curls, her heart breaking at the way Syverson clung to her as though he were drowning. In a way, he was, Sasha wishing there was more she could do to help ease his suffering, though she wasn’t sure if anyone had ever even gotten this far with him before. 

“What happened to the elder?” She asked as she heard his breathing calm some. 

“I emptied a mag into his face.” Sy said resolutely, Sasha hearing no remorse in his voice, though she couldn’t blame him, given the circumstances. 

“No one in the village ever complained, not even his older kids. Think they were all afraid of him. We did them a favor. You don’t kill kids. Especially babies. You give ‘em kindness, compassion, love. That’s it. End of story. You hurt a child, you murder a child in cold blood like that? I put you in the ground, plain and simple.”

She held onto him, stroking his broad back, carding her fingers through his hair, letting him take the pain he’d held onto for so long and finally let some of it go. Though she knew he’d never truly recover from that day, Sasha hoped that finally talking about it to someone who wouldn’t judge or pity him, would make a small difference. 

His breathing slowed and Sasha gave him another squeeze, realizing something she hoped would help ease his pain further.

“For what it’s worth, Sy? If nothing else, you brightened that little girl’s day each time you saw her. You gave her a smile just like she gave you one. You were with her at the end and that’s what counts. She didn’t die alone. In a perfect world, she wouldn’t have died at all, but in the horror that was her final moments, she knew you were there. She knew.”

[shhhlikeme]

can I get hcs of kenma and tendou with a quiet and reserved S/O but she’s secretly really pervy? Nsfw maybe 👉👈 I love your writing!! (*^▽^*)

Thank youuu😘

You may! I‘m writing Kenma’s separately because my posts are too long so look out for pt. 2 later! Ps. Idk if it’s spelled ‘tendo’ or ‘Tendou’ so I might swap from time to time lol.

I literally love this one shot!

———————————

Tendou Satori x “Timid Girl by Day: Naughty Girl by Night” S/O

(Slight NSFW)

————————————————-

“I was in the chess club, too Y/N. State champ, 1984!” Exclaimed Tendou’s father loudly. His mother, who was sitting across from him at the restaurant dinner table beamed at him.

“She’s a keeper, Tendou. You better not do anything to lose her!” Satori’s mom reached over to hold onto your hand and you gave her a sweet smile, happy that you had won your boyfriends family over.

“I was state champ last year,” you mumbled to his family quietly and they practically gushed to death.

“How did our strange Tendou get you?” Questioned his mother rather rudely.

she shoulda kept that in the drafts

You shrugged, feeling the need to defend your love. “Tendou is the kindest, most gentle, honest boy I’ve ever met. I’m lucky to have him. Right, Ten?”

Your boyfriend Tendou had been staying out of yours and his parents conversation for the majority of the night, a little because his parents didn’t need any help in counting his faults but moreso because his girlfriend......had her foot pleasurably kneeding his crotch under the table. Very pleasurably, considering the man had a mild foot fetish. You were softly running the underside of your foot along his length that has hardened fully due to your ministrations. You used your foot to nudge his thighs apart and fondled his balls.

“Right, Ten?” You repeated.

Tendou looked at you across the table when you evilly invited him into the conversation, knowing that he wasn’t listening a damn.

“S-sorry w-what?” He pretended to cough quickly in order to cover his moan when you fondled his balls. You were literally going to make him cum and you haven’t even stuttered once when talking with his parents.

“Aren’t you listening?” His mother snapped.

“He never listens.” His dad muttered.

“Your parents were just saying how lucky you are to have me because of how quiet and reserved I am.” You gave him a sexy smirk and slowly grazed the length of his his member from top to bottom. Tendou had to increase the force of his coughing and look away because his eyes wanted to roll to the back of his head.

“Sweetheart, drink some water will you?” His mother waves the server over and points to the water pitcher.

“And Ten, I was telling your parents how you are the best boyfriend in the world because you......”

Tendou couldn’t listen to you when his thoughts were so consumed by lust. It wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t any more blood in his brain because it had all migrated south. He was so turned on by not only your movements, but the fact that everyone who knew you, including him, thought you’d be the last girl to be doing what you’re doing right now.

He fell in love with the shy girl in school—because you were so pretty and quiet and you spent all your lunches in the library like he used to do before Ushijima invited him to start joining him for lunch. You were very reserved, never choosing to roll your school skirt to make it shorter like all the other girls in school and Tendou saw that as endearing.

And you were nice to him. When he built up the courage to sit next to you and start a conversation, you were quiet but the nicest person he’s ever met..... Even though his personality should have scared you like it did everybody else.

you two started dating and you never changed from being mousy and reserved

That is.....until it came to anything sexual

Something intimate had only happened between you two once before and you had been interrupted by Tendou’s parents, but he caught a glimpse of your very strong naughty side

But even that brief moment was nothing compared to this

Touching him under the table while his parents were right there....this was one for the books

But what can you say? Your perversion came out like a bat of a hell when you saw Tendou so nervous introducing you to his family, looking so cute in his green tux. You’d never seen him so reserved but you knew it was because his parents weren’t his favourite people in the world. You don’t know why but seeing him like this made you want to make him orgasm, and he was rendered powerless to stop you

“Ten, are you not feeling okay honey? You haven’t been answering us.” You asked your redhead sweetly as you agonizingly-slowly removed your foot off of him and slipped it back in your flats. You gave him an innocent bat of your eyelashes.

Tendou held back his whine from your removal.

His parents asked Tendou if he needed to go see a doctor again due to his strange behaviour that he used to exhibit when he was young.

Satori only needed to see the doctor if they could give his gf a prescription of what to do with a bf’s serious case of blue balls.

Nevertheless, Ten tried to explain himself to his parents because the threat of seeing his childhood doctors was an absolute no.

“N-no I mean s-sorry! Y/N, parents, I-I’m fine, trust me—“

You interrupted him. “No, I don’t think you’re fine, Ten.”

“Yes I am—“

Irritated with him, you turned to grin at the older couple. “Mr. & Mrs. Tendō, your doctors are very unnecessary. I know just how to help your son,”

Tendou watched how you brought a glass to your lips after you spoke. You had asked the server for a straw earlier, which was pretty odd in a five star restaurant, but now Tendo knew why. With your eyes innocent and with his parents eyes on their son in worry, you took a sip of the water. Then, you slipped the straw further into your mouth suggestively. You circled your tongue around it for your boyfriend’s hungry eyes only. Tendou’s dick twitched under the table.

You rendered the sexy clown speechless momentarily. lets all applaud

“Son, I thought you got over that awful odd phase you’d been in because you got to Shiratorizawa....”

Your bf rushed to defend himself even though he barely heard his father. “Dad! I promise I have and that I’m fine! I don’t need any more help—“

“It’s nothing like that, Mr Tendo. But you do look like you’re a little under the weather, Ten. Maybe you need to leave early?” When your boyfriend’s eyes flicked back to you, you flicked the tip of your straw with your tongue— the same way you wanted to do to certain other tip.

How can your eyes remain so innocent as you do this?! Satori thought. Horny, annoyed with his parents, and confused, Tendou shook his head at his dad. “No! I’m okay, reall—“

You kicked him under the table. The idiot was not getting it! “No YOU’RE not, Ten. I think you’re feeling sick. With JUST a cold. And I think you need me to take you back to my house so I can nurse you back to health, correct?” You spoke slowly hoping your boy would finally get the gist.

Finally, that lightbulb turned on. 💡

Our cherryhead baby was like:

Bruh.

His eyes lighting up because the sexy redhead FINALLY understood your sexual innuendo, he nodded. His mind ran with thoughts of you and him in your bed: hopefully naked. Keeping up your impeccable sweeter than though charade that his parents ate right up, you turned to his parents. “I recently got my acceptance letter into the nursing program at Kyoto University.”

“What?!” Mrs. Tendō’s jaw dropped. She grabbed her husbands hand and squeezed it excitedly. “But that’s one of the top 2 Universities in Japan!”

You smiled, blushing shyly. Your boyfriend was shocked at how you are truthfully so insanely bashful and that it wasn’t an act with his parents. He couldn’t think about that for long though, because in that moment your foot unexpectedly grazed his erection again and it felt sooooooooooo good that he had to let out a strangled cough to cover his moan again.

You were happy with his reaction. “See, the poor thing is still coughing. Would you two mind if I took him home to help him? I promise he’ll be back to normal after.”

“Go ahead, chess champion, Kyoto U student!!!! Please keep our son and be a good influence on him!”

Satori couldn’t help but think, ‘Good influence?!’ As he bit back a moan of sexual frustration when you removed your foot again. He was embarrassed by how close he was.

“Great!” You smiled. “Let’s go, Ten sweetheart. The sooner we get home the sooner I can make you feel better.” You got up, straightening your humble dress and rounded the table so you were standing behind your sitting boyfriend. His parents began busying themselves with collecting their things.

From behind, you leaned over and whispered in your man’s ear,

“When we get to my house, I’m going to make you cum so hard that you’ll make a riddle about me, too.”

Your boyfriends eyes rolled back and his leg started tapping on its own like a dog wagging its tail.

Tendou’s parents were busy with the cheque.

“Our valet just pulled up so we are going to go now, but Thank you so much for joining us for dinner, Y/N.” finished his parents approvingly. “You are without a doubt the kindest, sweetest, most modest scholar we’ve ever met. And by some miracle you are dating our son! I hope you get out of that timid shell one day, Y/N, because you deserve all the praise.”

You blushed, giggling like a school girl as you hugged your boyfriend, just enough so that he could feel your boobs pressed to his back. He wagged his tail more.

“Thank you, Mr. & Mrs. Tendou. I promise that I shall work on my timidity and modesty.” On your son’s dick, that is, You thought to yourself, smirking because you were only a 10-minute drive to your house.

—————————-

Baby Kenma in part 2 later lol

[sadsapphicslut]

chapter one - original story (i havent come up with a title yet lol)

okay so here it is!! if anyone actually reads this i love u :) please leave feedback if u have any!! 

TWs:

death, drugs, medication, mental illness, references to sex, swearing, alcohol

wordcount: 8.2k

(also i dont think anyone will but im paranoid of people stealing my writing so obligatory dont copy/post to another site or steal my work in any other ways etc)

There were five of us; 4 boys and me. In hindsight I realize from the outside our group probably seemed a little predatory, but it was never really like that. For the most part they were like brothers to me. Of course, being the only girl in a small and isolated club of mainly older boys, things were bound to happen. We were in high school and it was summer, can you blame me? Regardless, however much I loved them, it was not quite in the way my father always assumed or my mother always warned (during our uncomfortable monthly visitations before I managed to get rid of her for good).

The months everything went down, which I often referred to only as ‘The Worst Summer of My Life’, (quite melodramatically but not without reason) were somehow still full of the best moments of my life. Moments I often find myself wishing I could repeat, as nothing has or will ever come close to the way I felt, sitting amongst my boys day after day, somehow light as the warm July breeze that blew past us. My entire body weightless, as non-existent as the time that passed us by. Despite the depression I’d found myself plunged into during the days after my only brother’s death, I truly believe I will never again be as happy as I was then. Laughter seemed to flow freely from our mouths, smiles plastered onto our faces no matter the circumstances, content to just exist. I don’t think I can ever forget the day it was raining so hard the entire city was flooded, but we walked around uptown well past the point of being absolutely drenched, our clothes dripping so heavily the security guard denied us entry into the public library. Something about that day made me feel so free, like we were invisible. Completely apathetic to the whims of the real world, somehow existing only in our twisted minds and intertwined fantasies.

Maybe if I’d had my head screwed on a little tighter, or if we’d met under different circumstances, it wouldn’t have ended the way it did. I used to go down that line of thought every night before succumbing to a fitful but heavy sleep (under the direct affect of 25mg of Quetiapine, working to counteract my Concerta and Lexapro). Those types of irrational thoughts were ones my therapist deemed as my habit for rumination. In regard to the death of my brother she called it ‘bargaining’, one of the stages of grief. I never liked it when she spoke about those stages as I’ve always felt them to be wrong. Maybe because I never quite moved on to the final one, no matter how many years pass. ‘Acceptance’, coined as the “Re-entrance to reality”. Maybe it’s different since I was never really grounded to reality in the first place. I still wake up some mornings, thinking I’ve heard his voice in the other room, ready to beguile me with tales from his day of retail work. Other times I swear I’ve walked past him on the street. Some people may relate to my experiences, with reasonings of ghosts, angels, apparitions, or insanity, among many other causes for the apparent viewing of a loved one long gone to the other side. I never shared these beliefs, but I am not one to deny. Rather, I always take these instances as an omen. A warning. I have come to this conclusion not without evidence, at least circumstantial, given the many occasions over the years – and especially that summer – where I found my hypothesis to be true. All I can say is that I am glad I’ve never been met with the same chimerical visions of my mother; one can only hope that is because she ended up where she belonged. Maybe I’ll see her there, though I hope at the very least they could keep us in separate rooms of Hell if the situation does arise.

From what I know of the others now, which is admittedly not much – majorly due to my own neglect, as opposed to theirs – they share the same prescription for rose-coloured glasses as I. We always were too engrossed with our own romanticization of nostalgia and sentiment that it clouded our view. I often think this was one of the reasons we seemed to fit so well together. Not quite like puzzle pieces, too self-absorbed to hold a candle to that analogy, more like complimentary colours. I wish it could’ve stayed the way it was. We did try, and I never found myself able to fully disentangle myself from James, nor he could to I, but for most of us we could recognize an ending when one arises. I used to find myself using the word tragedy a lot while reminiscing, but I no longer think that word is appropriate. Fate is a more fitting term in my opinion, regardless of if one believes in it or not. “(A)n inevitable and often adverse outcome, condition, or end,” as reported by Merriam Webster. I don’t think there’s a word in the entire English language more accurate in describing how everything ended up; and if there is, I am yet to find it.

  Chapter One

A Dead Brother

          I have tried to erase the day my brother died from my memory so many times I lost count decades ago. I still find the image seeping into my unconsciousness quite dreadfully on the nights I neglect to take my pills and catch myself waking up with a steady flow of tears that dampen my pillow along with the drool that always seems to pour from my sleeping mouth. The dread that pools in my stomach sometimes being heavy enough for me to lose my lunch. I frequently wonder how people managed to reassure me that it wasn’t my fault; the most painful lie I’ve ever been told and one that seemed to stream from people’s mouths as easily as the mini sandwiches laid in the living room of my brother’s wake were stuffed in. The worst part about being told it wasn’t my fault was how obviously one could tell they didn’t believe what they were saying either. His death was my fault; a fact so uncontestable I wanted to kill myself every time I was reminded of it.

           My therapist often tried to remind me that even if his death was “partially” (she always used the word partially, refusing to acknowledge the truth that his death was entirely my fault) my fault, there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent it. This was another lie I despised being told. There were a million ways I could have prevented his death or saved his life and yet, here we are, with him dead and me wishing everyday that I won’t wake up tomorrow. “Begonia,” she’d tell me – she was the only person who called me by my full name, I usually went by Nia, but a nickname felt too personal and I didn’t like her very much – “You mustn’t keep torturing yourself with these scenarios. He’s dead, and there is nothing you can do to change that. I am starting to wonder if you are going to let yourself move on. This isn’t healthy.” That was a line she liked to use a lot, “this isn’t healthy”. As if anything I do is.

           Barb, my therapist that is, liked to go over the details of my brother’s death a lot. She often called it a ‘trigger’, which is why she always seemed to want me to talk about it. “Trauma is a horrible thing, Begonia, and you must learn to move past it, process it. I can see you still haven’t managed to do that on your own, and that’s what I’m here for, to help you move on.” Barb was big on the idea of  “moving past trauma” and “learning to cope”, she often sounded like a broken record of a motivational speech. I found myself comparing her to school guidance councillors without realizing it, they were about equally as helpful (read: not helpful) in my opinion.

           Sometimes I blame my inability to forget and “move past” my brother’s death on the way Barb constantly brought it up and made me go through it. I never quite understood how that part of my therapy was supposed to help me. I asked her once, what good was it doing rehashing the worst day of my life?

           “Well, Begonia,” I hated the way she said my name, always so condescending and sour, like even the idea of me questioning her in any way was as impolite as shitting on her desk.

“You have to understand that I only want to help you. You seem to be unable to process your traumas on your own, which is why we need to go through these things. As you are aware, this PTSD,” she always left strange pauses after each letter, her slow tone grinding on my ears, “you have acquired has left you unable to function normally in daily life. I want you to get to a place where you can have a normal life (Ha!) and cope without these meetings. It’s what your brother would’ve wanted.” Barb liked to tell me what my brother would have wanted at least once every session. Putting aside the fact she knew next to nothing about him aside from the intimate details on how he died, I always thought it was an inappropriate thing to say as a psychologist specializing in grief counselling. It never particularly bothered me, I was reasonable enough to realize she was just trying to comfort me, but I never liked the phrase. “What your brother would’ve wanted.” What he would’ve wanted was to not die but we’re past that, aren’t we Barb, as you so often enjoyed telling me.  

I have always been quite averse to my diagnoses, ADHD at 14, Persistent Depressive Disorder at 15, PTSD at 16, issues with alcohol and drugs that landed me in rehab more than once. I’ve been on a concoction of different medications since I was 13, even before I was diagnosed with anything officially. Sertraline, Lexapro, Prozac, Ritalin, Concerta, Adderall, Quetiapine, Ambien, Zopiclone, a healthy mix of off brand and branded medications. Sleeping pills, antidepressants, stimulants. I can’t remember a time before monthly trips to the drug store and side effect surveys that I’m not sure if I ever told the truth on. It’s a wonder that people didn’t see a slew of addiction issues coming from a mile away.

I think I’ve always had the most contention with my PTSD diagnosis though, I hate it because I know it’s undeniably true. I wish it wasn’t because maybe that’d mean my brother was still alive, but he isn’t. And I’m left traumatized and bereaved. Sometimes it feels like it hurt me more than it ever did my mother or father. Maybe it did. I should feel selfish for saying that, but I can’t, because they didn’t have to look at him while the life left his body, praying to God for the ability to turn back time. See the moment his eyes glazed over, knowing I’d never get to hear his obnoxious laugh, or make fun of his dumb face ever again.

  ❈

             “Ray, hey listen I need you to come pick me up.”

It was a cool evening in May, the end of spring brought with it the promise of summer and the air had the familiar aroma of daffodils and petrichor. I had decided to go to a party with my friend Faun, my dad having been out at his girlfriend’s place for the weekend and me having nothing better to do. I wasn’t one for partying, but I did like to get high, so I usually just hung around with the rest of the potheads and pill junkies until someone dragged me home or I fell asleep. That night Don, a friend of a friend of a friend, had brought coke and E and we were all determined to get as fucked up as possible. Faun only ended up doing one line before running into a bedroom with some guy whose name started with an M – was it Martin or Marvin? Maybe it was Mickey – and left me sitting on the couch beside a girl who was about 1 more shot of vodka away from passing out.

I had fully intended on doing some coke, but the E seemed to be hitting harder than I was used to. I was sure my Ritalin had worn off by then but maybe I was wrong. As I stood up to get a glass of water I nearly fell over and decided to sit back down. Turning to face Don, I tapped him on the shoulder trying to get his attention.

“What was in that molly?” I was vaguely aware of the way my words were slurring, but I felt weirdly energized. I was aware my heart was beating a little too fast, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I knew what ecstasy felt like, this was not nearly my first time doing it, but I felt really wrong.

           “Don!” He turned to look at me and I felt uneasy. His eyes looked a little crazed – not that out of the ordinary but given the circumstances I was worried – “What the fuck did you give me?” It felt like I’d done 5 lines of coke in the last 2 minutes and I knew that E had been spiked.

           Don’s face had an unmistakable expression of guilt written on it as he leaned down and whispered in my ear, his voice shaking, “I think it was cut with meth.” Fuck. My stomach dropped. I have to get out of here. I quickly shot up from the musty couch I was sat on, carefully holding onto Don’s shoulder so I didn’t fall, my legs still feeling unsteady. I opened my phone; the screen was too bright, and I had a hard time maneuvering it as I attempted to exit the house. Clicking the green Messages icon, I sent a text to Faun – e ws cut w meth im lesving – with shaky hands and burst out the door into the fresh air. I clicked my brother’s contact and pressed call.

           It rang four times before he picked up.

           “Nia? Why are you calling me it’s like 1am?” I could tell from the smooth tone of his voice he’d been drinking. He didn’t very often but he had an appreciation for cocktails and enjoyed getting buzzed now and then. He still was a year from being legal to drink but his friends we’re all 19 and 20 and bought alcohol for him. I found him fun when he got drunk, becoming talkative and giggly, but right now I wished so badly for him to be sober.

           “Ray, hey listen I need you to come pick me up.” I was slurring, my voice a bit too pitchy to pass as anything but high. I knew he didn’t like it when I did this, but he never ratted me out. Sometimes I wish he did, maybe I never would’ve been able to go to that party in the first place.

           I could hear a door shutting on his end, I assumed he was going into a different room. “What’s wrong?” My skin was bubbling with anxiety at the prospect of having to tell him what I did.

           “Fuck, uh… I did something stupid. I’m at Emily Goguen’s, y’know up in Champlain Heights. Please pick me up.” I rarely used the word please.

“Nia, what the fuck did you do?” I almost started crying but I found my eyes to be bone dry.

“Please don’t yell.”

“Okay, really, tell me what is going on or I won’t come get you.”

“I accidentally took meth.”

“You what? What the fuck, Nia! Fuck this I’m on my way and I’m fucking telling Dad.” I cringed but I knew he was going to before I even called. The pit in my stomach grew deeper as the buzzing of my skin grew stronger. I could feel myself getting higher, everything was so clear and standing around was making me grow restless. Ray huffed on the phone and I heard him entering his car.

His tone was softer the next time he spoke. “I’ll be there in 5, just stay put, please. Do you want me to stay on the call or can I hang up?”

I felt like a child, which I was really, only 16 at the time, a whole life ahead of me. Still, I was grateful for the way he spoke to me, reminiscent of being 6 and getting a scrapped knee after falling off my pink Razor scooter. The high made me edgy, and my voice was sharp to my ears, “No, you can hang up.” I heard the click to indicate he’d done just that, and started pushing my cuticles as I waited, the task somehow greatly interesting me, and I did not realize until later I had managed to pick off all of the skin around my pointer and middle fingernails during the five-minute wait.

 Ray pulled up exactly five minutes later in his ugly, blue 2011 Ford Fiesta he’d gotten the year prior after passing his driving test. What I wouldn’t do now to smell the inside of that car once again, a distinct attar of pineapple car freshener and Old Spice deodorant mixed with stale black tea, faintly present due to his ever-growing collection of empty paper cups from various different fast foods and coffee shops.

I stumbled into the car, feeling the strong impulse to clean the space, but attempting to push it down. From the passenger side overhead mirror I could see my blown pupils and sweaty forehead, pieces of my copper red hair sticking to my face. My freckles were showing through my concealer that had mostly worn off and I wanted to cover them back up. My skin was pale from winter (and probably the drugs in my system) but my cheeks were flushed like I was drunk. My high cheekbones made my face look gaunt in the lighting, but my face was wide which balanced it out, so I didn’t look completely skeletal. Ray was looking at me, the worry apparent in his eyes, but his face was flushed as well, and I could tell he’d been drinking a bit too much to drive. I had my license as well, but it was clear I was in no condition to take over on that front, so I didn’t bother saying anything. I wish I had. There’s a lot of things I wish. I wish I hadn’t gone to that party; I wish I hadn’t taken that E; I wish I called someone else; I wish I waited it out at Emily’s; I wish I walked home; I wish I took a cab; I wish I waited for Faun; I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t take his eyes off me as I shut the mirror in front of me.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine. Please just take me home.”

“Is Dad there?”

“No.”

“Maybe I should take you to Mom’s.”

“No!” I’d moved out of my mom’s completely just over 6 months ago, barely seeing her once a month. It was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. She never liked me much anyways, the feeling was entirely mutual. Ray seemed to have a close bond with her for some reason despite how she treated him like shit. I never called him out though, he no longer lived with her, so I didn’t really care what their relationship was as long as she wasn’t hurting him. She did treat him significantly better than me, however, so I figured maybe he managed to forgive her the way I never could.

“Okay, but I’m staying with you until Dad gets home. I’m not gonna lie to him about this shit. Fucking meth, Nia? Seriously?”

“It was in the molly.” He sighed and started driving.

 My brain felt like it was filled with butterflies, or ants, some kind of movement that was itching at my skull. The paper cups scattered around were making me anxious and I needed to clean his car. I began picking at my nails again, but I needed to pick up those cups, you see. I turned around and started gathering the ones Ray had discarded in the back, filling up an empty plastic bag from Best Buy. I was fully switched around in my seat, nearly crawling into the backseat to reach the trash my brother had left. I felt him tap my side, I looked over at him and he started to scold me.

“Nia, stop that will you, you’re distracting me.” But I needed to finish gathering the cups. The car was dirty, and my skin was itching, the traffic lights burning my skin. I was elated and I didn’t want to listen to him, he was just trying to get in my way. I continued to lean over, not registering the swerve of the car as he looked over at me.

“Nia – ”

He turned over to push me back into my seat, his eyes leaving the road for no more than a few seconds. This time I felt the swerve as we broke into the next lane.

 This is where I have a hard time piecing together what happened. From what I was told, we ended up running directly into a 2015 Dodge Ram 2500. In case you understandably have a lack of knowledge when it comes to cars, that is a very large, sturdy, and expensive pickup truck which I would probably consider the last vehicle you’d want to charge headfirst into while going 70km per hour. I don’t recall the actual incident of hitting the truck, whether that be from the drugs, the position I was in, or hitting my head on the roof of the car, I don’t know. What I do know is that when I woke up, we were in a ditch on the side of the road, with the car flipped upside down, and my entire body was screaming at me to Get Out!

I felt blood oozing sluggishly from my head and noted some indistinct pain in my right wrist where it had scraped something pretty badly and gotten twisted, but I otherwise felt alright. I couldn’t tell if the cloudiness in my head was from a concussion or the earlier events of the night, but I figured it was probably good I was awake, regardless of how dazed I seemed.

I turned my head to the left and was greeted by a view I will never be able to forget, it having been branded to the insides of my eyelids, scorched in my mind. Ray, with his left arm twisted in spectacular fashion, reminding me of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, after Lockhart spells away Harry’s bones. My brother had always been squeamish with broken bones and I hoped he wasn’t aware of how his limb looked at the moment. His head was bleeding quite profusely, and I was alarmed despite how many times I’d heard in movies that headwounds bleed a lot. His eyelids were fluttering, irises appearing glassy and unfocussed. And then I saw it. A piece of glass was stuck in the left side of his neck. The windshield apparently had broken with the impact and my brother was lucky enough to get a piece lodged right in his trachea. It was thick, bright red blood –  that I could’ve sworn was sparkling in my current inebriated perspective – was gushing out the side, so heavy I could smell it, taste it, in the air. I was frozen once I realized.

Do something, do something! Put pressure on it! Call 9-1-1! My mind was screaming at me, but it was all I could do to sit and watch the blood stain his clothes. He was wearing the corduroy jacket I’d gotten him for his birthday and a white button up, the red seeped into them until it was as if they’d always been that colour. My voice was caught in my throat, but I managed to push some sound past.

“Ray?” It was weaker than a whisper but in the silence that seemed to envelope us in that car, completely independent of the outside world and sirens that could surely be heard from blocks away, I knew he would be able to hear me.

He looked up, eyes focussing slightly on me, and a tear slipped down his face, only it went the wrong way since we were still upside down. He mouthed the words “I love you”. We never said that to each other. As close as we were, our relationship had always been more comparable to that of a best friend than sibling. We weren’t overly affectionate, never hugged or said I love you, hung out for enjoyment rather than as a punishment. Most people didn’t know we were brother and sister until we pointed it out, we never really looked alike and were absent of the traditional distaste and rivalry usually present between siblings. I knew, as he looked me in the eyes and said those words, this would be the last time I’d ever see him outside of a morgue.

I sat in my seat next to him with dry eyes, wishing desperately I could cry, needing to express the feeling of utter horror and despondency that completely overtook my body and mind, but I couldn’t. Barb told me time and time again that I was in shock, there was nothing I could’ve done, but I will never be able to believe that. I still remember the moment the final tear slipped down his face. He smiled at me, pain evident in his eyes. His entire body was covered in the metallic smelling red, and I wanted to vomit. I wish I could say the crash had sobered me, but it didn’t, not really. I was still entirely in a daze as I saw his muscles relax, smiling falling from his face, eyes not quite rolling back all the way but enough to give me nightmares for the next 20 years. The life had been absorbed from his body, leaving a heavy shell. I was told afterwards this all happened within the span of 10 minutes, but it felt like years. By the time the first responders had appeared I was an old woman. Grayed hair, and arthritic bones. Mourning for the brother I’d lost oh so many years ago, when I was just a girl. I think in a way I died in that car with him, I never was really the same. But who would be? Best friend and confidant, older brother, idol, dying in front of your eyes as you do nothing, knowing for the rest of your life that his death is – was – your fault. Knowing you could’ve done something, anything really, to prevent his untimely loss of life before the paramedics arrived. If I’d been the same after that night I would have to be much more disturbed than I ever thought.

I sat in that car beside Ray’s corpse for 3 more minutes before I heard the sirens closing in around us – me. I thought I might pass out, either from the toll of what I’d just witnessed or from my concussion, but I remained upright, probably from the adrenaline. I couldn’t move so I just waited, and hoped I’d die too before anyone reached the scene. It would be much preferrable to any other outcome I could think of at the time. I could vaguely register the pain in my wrist, but I felt so numb I’m sure you could’ve shot me in the foot and I wouldn’t have blinked.

A young fireman named Walter ended up getting me out of the car. The door was smashed and stuck which meant I’d been trapped in there either way. I was happy I hadn’t bothered trying to escape as I'm terribly claustrophobic and finding out I couldn’t would have thrown me into a proper panic attack. The fireman was incredibly nice, saying reassuring things the entire time they were opening the door with the “Jaws of Life”. I ended up seeing him again in the hospital actually, or at least that’s what my father told me. He wanted to check in on me and left me some hydrangeas in a vase. I always preferred chrysanthemums but I'm not that picky when it comes to a floral arrangement.

After the door was busted open I was carried out by Walter. I was shaking and apparently babbling nonsense but in my head I was trying to tell them to save Ray. I wasn’t really aware of all that much, completely blind to the crowd of spectators that had rudely gathered to witness the violence – wasn’t it supposed to be taboo to stop at a car crash? Wondering vaguely about what happened and wishing you could get a better look as you drive past the scene.  My head wound had made me a bit incompetent and the meth in my system was really not helping the entire situation.

I was laid on a gurney and rolled onto an ambulance. I don’t remember much about the ride; the sirens, the bright lights, a paramedic named Alice who spoke softly, smoothing out my hair while the other put an oxygen mask on my face (which I wasn’t entirely cognizant enough to question though now I'm not really sure why they did it) and splinted my wrist. Alice asked me if I was on drugs and I nodded but was unable to speak when she asked me what ( I would find this a common occurrence after the accident, my voice seemingly stolen alongside Ray’s). She just nodded and said something to the other ME that I didn’t quite pick up. She asked if I could tell her my name and I shook my head. She must’ve noticed the iPhone in my pocket and grabbed it, turning to the medical ID page.

“Is your name Begonia?” I nodded, though the name sounded foreign on my ears. I liked the way Alice said it though, she had a light Spanish accent and a matronly tone that made me feel safe. I wondered if she had kids of her own; she looked young, but my own mother had me at 19 so who could say? She told me her name after complimenting mine. “Begonia is a beautiful name; I love the flowers. I’m Alice, okay? We’re gonna make sure you’re alright and take you to the hospital.” Her voice was sweet like syrup and I became sleepy as she spoke.

“No honey, you can’t fall asleep yet. Just stay awake a little bit longer and I promise you they’ll let you sleep at the hospital.”

  I don’t remember anything of the rest of the ride to the hospital. I was dropped off at the Emergency Room at the Regional, head still too foggy to allow me to recall anything before I was sitting in a white bed, in a white room, with white sheets and a light blue hospital gown on. It was morning and my father was sitting at the end of my bed in an uncomfortable plastic chair, his eyes bloodshot and moist. He’d very obviously been crying for a long time and my chest panged with guilt. I reached up to feel my head and realized there was a cast on my wrist. With my other hand I touched the cotton that covered my forehead, wincing when I felt the sting of what had to be stitches in a nasty gash. I would spend the next 5 years of my life with a variety of diverse haircuts that attempted to hide the ugly scar that served as a reminder of the worst night of my life. Even now it is still extremely obvious, but I can’t be bothered to try and hide it, I so rarely look in the mirror that it wouldn’t matter if my skin turned blue.

My dad hadn’t looked up, so I attempted to gain his attention but once again found my voice failing me. I tapped on the bed a few times before he seemed to realize and face me.

“Nia… how are you feeling?” His voice was raspy and thin. He reeked of cigarettes and stale coffee, though this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I remained silent as he looked at me, searching my face for something I'm not sure he found.

“Nia, I, I'm not sure how to say this to you.” Here it comes. Almost worse than watching my brother die, the confirmation. “Ray, he’s, well dead.” I saw my father’s eyes begin to tear up again as I stared straight ahead. I couldn’t feel the sobs that racked my body, nor the hot tears streaming from my eyes. I saw my dad start to move closer but sit back down when I flinched. Of course, I knew my brother was dead; I had front row seats to watching the event happen, but somehow I still didn’t believe it until the words left my father’s mouth. According to my dad, who many years later described to me how eery the whole event was, my sobs were completely silent, and I was entirely unaware of everything happening around me. This dissociation lasted the first few days after the accident, and the entirety of my hospital stay. Leaving the blissful gap in my memory I have now.

Barb told me this was my mind’s way of coping with the tragedy and stress of what happened. I was honestly just happy I had an excuse to skip some of the dreadful retelling she forced upon me.

 ❈

             The funeral was of course a depressing and solemn event. I was still yet to speak and found myself thankful for the way people gave up on trying to get me to communicate. I dressed in a black skirt with a black short sleeved button up. A dark coat thrown around my shoulders as the cast on my right hand was too big to fit through the sleeve. I looked terrible, barely a week out of hospital before I watched Ray sink into the ground. The wound on my forehead was still quite nasty, though it looked better than it did before. I tried to cover it up with my hair but was unsuccessful. I got bangs soon after.

           The matter was very traditional, taking place in a church even though none of our family was really religious. It was only the second time I'd ever been in a church, the first having been for my cousin Julie’s wedding when I was four years old. I don’t remember anything of it aside from the material of my dress itching at my neck and making me rather miserable. Of course, not nearly as miserable as I was the day of the funeral, sitting in a pew at the front of the church, listening to a priest claiming Ray would’ve wanted us to celebrate his life. I knew this not to be true; Ray was extremely dramatic and would’ve cherished the thought of everyone he’d ever spoken to moping around for weeks after his death, beside themselves with grief. He sometimes referred to himself as “Romeo” after having been broken up with by another girl he was supposedly in love with, stating he better just stab himself in the heart now if he couldn’t have her. On the rare occasion he broke up with a girlfriend, he’d lounge around, eating ice cream, pretending to not be upset and comparing his cold heart to that of Richard VIII. The concept of him being any different over his death was almost comical; Ray was nothing if not predictable.

           I sat beside my father, who sat beside my mother (it was an extremely awkward arrangement that neither I nor my father cared for) and seemed to have the idea that I could evaporate if I thought hard enough about it. Unfortunately, I did not evaporate, or even come close to it, instead finding myself exactly where I'd been the whole time. I mostly tuned out the service, only really paying attention when my father and Ray’s best friend, Jake spoke. I managed to escape the duty of having to speak that day thanks to my fragile mental state and mutism. Though I'm sure I would’ve been forced all the same if I had been able to talk in any capacity, regardless of where my head was at.

           Faun was sitting in the pew behind me, feeling quite guilty about the whole ordeal. Or friendship dissolved soon after, I think she blamed herself for taking me to the party. It didn’t bother me too much though; we were never the closest and I sometimes thought her to be extremely annoying. An endless stream of shitty boyfriends that she only acquired so she could further repress her sexuality. When we were 14 we kissed at a sleepover and she admitted she was in love with me. I felt bad for not returning the feeling and our relationship had been on rocky territory ever since. I don’t understand how she thought she was in love with me since she barely knew anything about me, but either way she never brought it up again and soon after the monsoon of boytoys had begun.

           My brother’s friends and ex-girlfriends also attended the event. I didn’t approach any of them, far too scared they’d blame me for the death of their friend. One of them, Alex, went up to me to say how sorry he was about everything that happened. He was crying quite heavily (I later found out he was the friend Ray had been drinking with and the second last person to see him alive) and I could smell alcohol on his breath. I stood there while he spoke, telling me about how great my brother was as if I was wholly unaware. Body waving side to side as he stood with his hand on the wall beside me. He offered me some bronze liquid in a flask, and I obliged, savouring the burning sensation that followed in my throat. Alex’s voice was steady and deep, reminding me of my father’s. I’m not sure how long we stood there, him spinning a fantastic web of anecdotes and stories about my brother, some entirely new to my ears. We passed the beverage back and fourth until it was empty. My head felt lighter and heavier somehow simultaneously, and I found it much easier to listen to Alex talk. Later he tried to kiss me in my bedroom during the wake. His mouth was sour, and his tongue seemed too big for his mouth. I wondered how he was able to talk so much without it getting in the way.

             We moved in procession to the cemetery after the service. The grass was a vibrant green colour, and I didn’t understand how the world kept turning after Ray’s death, for mine stopped the moment his heart failed to beat. The sky was a lovely shade of cyan-blue, with clouds so perfect they seemed animated. Pink carnations were planted near the outskirts of the yard and I could smell spring in the air; a heavy, floral aroma that never failed to comfort me. I thought it should be raining, it felt inappropriate that the weather refused to match my despair. My mind wandered as we approached the empty grave and I considered what it would be like if Ray was here beside me. He’d probably be making jokes, telling me to lighten up for a minute or my face would get stuck that way. He’d mock my silence, saying how I never managed to shut up for a minute before but suddenly I'm as proper as a nun. I'd smile, ruffling his hair to piss him off and try to refrain from laughing aloud. The absence of him only felt stronger as I imagined this scenario, so I shoved it out of my head.

           The casket was lowered into the ground, my father was a pallbearer and I often think about how he must’ve felt carrying his son’s body before watching him being buried. My mother sobbed loudly which annoyed me, it felt a bit exaggerated. I had a few tears falling from my eyes but mostly, I just felt numb. Incredibly and absolutely empty inside. To onlookers it may have seemed as though we weren’t very close, my reaction being similar to that of his ex-girlfriends’. However, this didn’t account for the loss of my voice, or the broken state I was in mentally. Maybe it was better that my reaction was rather dulled. It meant people didn’t feel the need to approach me as they did my mother. Less concerned given she was the one playing up her emotions to the point of embarrassment. My father cried, more than I but far less than my mother. He didn’t cry very often – I'd actually only seen it once prior to the whole event – and I figured he probably needed it. At this point I felt as though I'd shed enough tears to last a lifetime so Ray wouldn’t mind if I was a bit subdued in comparison. He never was a crier anyways.

           As I sprinkled soil onto his casket I imagined he was right beside me, watching, ready to criticize as usual. The dirt stained my hand, clutching the sweat and turning my skin a muddy brown colour. As I wiped the dirt on my jacket I could hear him nagging about how I better go wash my hands, what was I, a six-year-old? He was in denial about me growing up and took every chance to remind me I was still just a kid. Not that he had much on me, but I enjoyed it. I never was one to shy away from attention; at least not before. Little quirks and inside jokes between us were always some of my favourite things, the type of humour you could only get from living with someone your whole life. No matter how much his memory will fade there are some things I can’t let myself forget. His mocking tone when he’d make fun of me is one of those things. If I ever managed to let go of that sound then I must be dead as well.

           The sun beat down on my back, my skin burning in my black clothes. I wasn’t sweating yet, but most of the men around were – suit jackets aren’t exactly known for their breathability. My nose was dry and aching red, sore from how much I'd been wiping it the last couple days. Still the sweet seeping tinge of flowers and spring managed to crawl into my nose, settling underneath my skin, the buzzing from before had returned, I could feel my heartbeat loudly in my throat and had the desperate urge to just run. Instead, I just followed the rest of the party, sitting down in the passenger seat of my dad’s car. The silence that settled over us was uncomfortable and stale. He turned on the radio, Led Zeppelin filled the air around us, thankfully relieving some of the tension. I felt in my left pocket for one of the carnations I’d picked from a nearby grave earlier. The flower had begun to wilt, heat taking effect on its delicate composition. When I got home I put it in between the pages of my oldest copy of Romeo and Juliet. Ray would have found it funny if he was around to see.

The drive to my mother’s house was short and minimally awkward. We sat in silence – aside from the music – only because there was no alternative. My hand remained clutched around the dying flower in my pocket as we left the car and entered the home. Other people had already arrived, clustered in the living room, picking at tiny ham sandwiches and various desserts my mother had undoubtedly stress-baked the day before. I wasn’t hungry so I sat as far away from the food and people as humanely possible while staying in the living room, not wishing to hear my mother’s scolding about how I need to socialize more. Eventually I managed to slip away into my old bedroom, where Alex was sitting on my bed drinking a mickey of Smirnoff I assumed he swiped from my mother’s freezer. He offered it to me, and I accepted, the weird repetitive déjà vu like act, mirroring earlier and making the whole day feel like somewhat of a dream.

When I went over this part with Barb she always felt the need to emphasize that it wasn’t a dream. I knew this, obviously, which I told her every time, but she was inclined to disbelief when it came to my denial over my brother’s death. “Begonia, you must realize he’s gone. Dwelling is helping nobody, especially not you. This isn’t a healthy mindset for you to have. Always comparing living to your dreams. I want you to tell me you understand this isn’t just some dream you can wake up from.” The first time she said that to me I was thrust into a bout of wordlessness, as it struck a bit too close to home. The next time she brought it up I just told her of course, though even now I still cannot say I fully understand. How can I when all of my assumptions have been constantly disproven time and time again. How can I ever say this isn’t a dream when I'm not even sure I'm real? James always tries to reassure me, “Bee, I'm telling you, if you can feel this beat, the pulse in your wrist, your neck, your chest, you are alive,” he’ll say while pressing my hand to my wrist, but we both know it isn’t that simple.

Me and Alex made out for a few minutes until I managed to excuse myself. He was a bad kisser and tasted disgusting. I left him sitting on my old bed while I went downstairs to find my dad. He was sitting at the counter with a can of root beer, blank expression sat upon his face. When his eyes met mine he sighed, grabbing his keys out of his pocket. It was obvious neither of us wanted to be here, for numerous reasons, so we left. And if the radio stayed off as we drove home we didn’t acknowledge the silence that time. In my hand was the crumpled carnation, and for some reason it made my chest hurt. A deep ache of dread. I could feel my heartbeat, hear it over the drum of the car engine, and I crushed the flower further. I was careful not to rip it though, as if that was crossing some kind of invisible line my mind had set for me. My fingers felt waxy when I finally let go.

Back home, I opened the copy of Romeo and Juliet. I retrieved the deteriorating plant from my pocket and placed it in the center. Closing the book, I stacked it under a few dictionaries, a magazine under it so it was trapped on either side. I sat down in front of it and cried. Not the huge gasping sobs my mother seemed to fancy, nor the quiet weeping of my father. No, I cried the tears of a child who just found out their grandparents died, the soft uncomprehending grief that overcame them as they first learned what death really meant. How long forever was. My legs pulled up to my chest, hands loosely hung around knees, unable to clasp together because of my cast. I closed my eyes and I swear I could hear the sound of Ray sighing behind me, but when I opened my eyes I was alone. I went to bed, earlier than I ever had in my life, still believing it was a dream and I'd wake up like Alice after her adventures in Wonderland. But when I awoke, I was met with the slow, oozing perdure of my reality. The one which I could not wake up from, and the one where my brother was dead.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #378

“come as you are, as you were, as i want you to be”

Have you ever dreamt in another language? No. How long will you try out something you don’t enjoy before giving up on it? It really depends, but in most cases, admittedly very quickly. What’s something you recently realized or discovered about yourself? *shrug* What’s the most interesting news you read or received recently? What about the most depressing? Not in a good way really, but it was certainly interesting to learn I have such severe sleep apnea. Like, I was certain I didn't. The most depressing would be uhhhh... I guess Jason's mother's death, but I don't know how "recent" you'd consider that by now. Would you let politics get in the way of a relationship? It depends. Some beliefs I absolutely would not tolerate (like anti-LGBT), others I would just agree to disagree with. What is one way in which you need to learn to control yourself? I need to get better at controlling my mouth when I'm extremely upset. Do you use a photo editor? I use Lightroom and Photoshop for photography. Is your dad overweight? No, I think he's actually underweight. Ever been honked at? Yes. What’s the name of the most recent baby a friend has had? Easton, I think? An old middle school friend had him. Have you ever taken medication to help you fall asleep faster? Yes, but they never work for me. How did your parents pick your name? I dunno. If you had to move to another country, where would you move? Canada. Do you have a balcony? No. Who is a singer that has given you chills? Man, I get chills easily with music. David Draiman from Disturbed, his cover of "Sound of Silence" is BREATHTAKING. That's number one. There are many others, they're just not coming to me at the moment. Do you have a drone? No. What was the spiciest thing you’ve ever eaten? Some wings at Buffalo Wild Wings. I got some crazy hot sauce. Have you ever discovered something gross in your food at McDonalds? No. What was the last thing you used sliced bread to make? A sandwich. How long did your shortest relationship last? Like a day lmao. Would you rather have a trampoline or swimming pool? A POOL!!!! I've talked before about how I want one so, SO very badly to exercise my legs without having to worry about sweat, and I can take a break the very moment I need to. Do you own a Snuggie? Yeah, somewhere. Do you listen to any unsigned bands/singers? Who? Yeah, quite a few on YouTube, but my favorite in Jonathan Young. He is SO damn talented. Who is your favorite video game character? Pyramid Head from the Silent Hill franchise. What kind of pictures do you post on Facebook/Instagram/Snapchat most frequently? Mostly of my pets lmao. Have you ever been on vacation with a significant other? No. Have you ever considered “unplugging”/taking a significant period of time away from technology? No. I know I'd never stick to it. Do you prefer to watch a documentary that is about a situation/event or a documentary that is more of a personal character study/biography? The latter. Meerkat Manor comes to mind with that, and everyone knows how much I adore that show. There was also one about rhesus macaques I fell in love with. Basically, I love animal docs, haha. Can you think of a recent time in which you might have been better off resisting, but you did something because you “just couldn’t help yourself”? Probably eating something. When you are getting to know someone, do you tend to worry that the other person will lose interest in you once they get to know the “real” you? Yyyyep. What is something that you would like to do, but really aren’t able to because of your location? (e.g., see art or get a certain job) Man, a lot of things. Photograph meerkats is a biggie. What sort of job do you think is best suited for your skills? Is this an in-demand position or something you’re unlikely to actually get? If I could actually handle the heat and was in good shape to traverse the outdoors, I think I'd be a great wildlife biologist. Even more though, if I could beat my social anxiety, I would ADORE being an animal educator with kids. Do you believe it is the responsibility of businesses, or prominent business leaders (think Bill Gates) to take the lead on social issues whether by using their influence or their money? Saying it's their "responsibility" sounds unfair and puts a lot of weight on their shoulders, but I do feel they should by their own volition and kindness use their position for good, such as through monetary assistance and other things. Have you ever gone to a job interview and realized that you didn’t want the job? Yep. Have you ever asked that someone sacrifice something (a habit, relationship, job, etc.) for you? A habit, yes. Looking back it was stupid as shit. What would you call your body type? Ew. Has anyone ever hacked your accounts before? Yes. Do you enjoy big holiday dinners? Considering I spend them with my sister's bigoted, homophobic, and racist in-laws, not especially. I always feel very uncomfortable and disliked among everyone for being the "black sheep" among 'em. Is your vision good? God no. Even with my glasses, it's very poor. I need a new prescription badly. Do both of your parents have jobs? Mom has something of the sort, like she cleans a local church for a small pay, but it's not really a "job." She's still recovering from cancer, getting her strength back up and such before she can handle a consistent job. Dad's had a job for as long as I've lived. What is something you’ve always wanted a boy to do for you? How heteronormative. But whatever. It's so fucking cheesy, but singing a cute song to me while slowdancing sounds so super adorable to me. What food are you craving right now? I am craving something sweet like you wouldn't believe. It's annoying. Have you ever been in a car accident? Yes. Do you have a lot of scars? Yes, but most are very negligible. I just scar extremely easily. Last person you saw other than your family? My primary doctor. Last movie you’ve seen in theaters? The The Lion King remake. Who was the last person you played a video game with? Ummm I think Girt. Last game you played at an arcade? Zero clue. What was your favorite nursery rhyme as a child? I THINK I particularly liked "The Itsy-Bitsy Spider?" None stand out strongly, though. What is your favorite cousin’s first name? I don’t have a favorite cousin. Would you prefer to travel around the world by yourself or with a friend? I think with a friend to prevent loneliness, but at the very same time, I see a great beauty in traveling on your own. Just taking new things in, seeing so many different cultures, beautiful scenery... I feel it'd be a great chance for exploration of insight. Remind yourself how small you are, that there's a much, much bigger picture than your own problems, that people are so unique but hopefully share common morals... I see a lot of poetry in it. Do you like the smell of coffee? It's one of my favorite smells. If you have a favorite photographer, can you describe their work? I can't possibly pick. I watch literally hundreds on deviantART, and many of them absolutely blow my mind. What’s one aspect of your life that did not turn out as you expected? My lack of a career. Outside of school, have you ever used a thesaurus? Well, online ones for writing. When you see a good-looking girl in skimpy clothing, what is your initial thought? I envy her confidence, like gotdamn girl. Have you ever been in a lighthouse? No. Are you on a laptop or desktop? A laptop. What color is your shower? White. Where do you order your pizza from? Domino's or Little Caesar's. What was the name of the last dog you pet? We've been calling the dog we're holding right now Zoe. Have you ever had anything stolen from you? Yes. Have you ever seen the White House? I don't think so, but it's possible I have when we've driven up to New York, but from a distance. How about Niagara Falls? No. What do you like in your salads and what dressing do you prefer? I just like regular iceberg lettuce with some bacon bits and ranch. Man, that sounds good right about now. Any posters of a band on your bedroom wall? Yeah, Metallica and Marilyn Manson. Do you think it’d be cool to have your body mummified after you die? No. I couldn't rock the mummy look even if I tried, haha. Can you tell the difference between a Scottish & an Irish accent? Not really, no. Can you read music? I used to be able to. Do you work the night shift? I don’t have a job, but if I did, I absolutely do not want to work the night shift anywhere. Have you ever slept over at your best friend’s house? Yes. Is your mother diabetic? Are you? She is, but I'm not. Would you like to learn how to make ceramic pottery? It'd be cool, sure. Ever sang someone to sleep? No. Who did you last kiss? My cat. Why did you last lie? I don't recall. Probably to just avoid confrontation with Mom. What do you put on your hamburgers? Cheese, ketchup, and mustard, generally. Who do you think cares the most about you? My mom. Have you ever sent a dirty picture? No. What’s at the center of your dining table? Honestly, we sit in there so rarely that I don't even know. I think we might have nothing, actually. Have you ever started a rumor? No. Do you like being outside? If it's cool, yes. What’s your favourite condiment? Maybe ketchup. Or honey mustard. Who sang/played the last song you listened to? Chris Motionless is the singer of Motionless In White. I don't know if that's his real last name, though. Do you like yoga? I used to. Now all the bending and shit would make me dizzy as hell with my "how are you still alive" level of low blood pressure. Do you always carry breath mints? No, but I do carry Tictacs with me, but they're for my dry mouth. It forces you to salivate, so it helps. What do you think your reaction would be upon entering the White House? I don't really know. I honestly don't even know how it looks inside. Thinking about it, I'd probably be more scared than anything, waiting for a bomb to drop or some shit lmao. Have you ever grown your own sea monkeys or dinosaurs? OH MY GOD I LOVED those!!! I definitely did! Have you ever thrown a game controller (or the game) and broke it? No, I've never been the type to do that. If I'm SERIOUSLY getting mad, all I do is tighten my grip. Did you ever own an Etch-a-Sketch? Yes. Do/did you ever have glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling? I believe so. What movie were you really worked up for that ended up disappointing you? My answer is Warcraft, but only because the fucking orcs' voices were so baritone that I couldn't understand them almost ever lmaooo. Like I had a mild idea of what was going on because of the game, but still. What part of a paper is hardest for you to write? The intro, or the conclusion. Both are difficult to me. Like I want to compose a gripping beginning as well as an end that doesn't just repeat everything I've already said and ends on a strong note. Does it bother you that almost everything is done on computers now? No. KFC Chicken: original or extra crispy? I don't like fried chicken. Think about your first kiss. Did you have any idea what you were doing? I mean, I guess? Like I'd seen kisses enough to know how to give someone a peck. It just came naturally. Did you get Happy Meals just for the toys as a kid? Not just for the toy, but it's the main thing I wanted, sure. Have you ever seen your parents cry? If so, how did it make you feel? Seeing my mom cry absolutely destroys me. I don't want her to hurt EVER. Especially if it's seriously unfair bullshit that has her upset, I also get very angry (not at her, of course) and protective. I've seen Dad tear up once, back when he was telling us about his mother's funeral, and I felt immense surprise more than anything. He does NOT cry. How do you feel about animal testing? It's fucking disgusting and barbaric. Find a different goddamn way. Do you add condiments to your ice cream, or just eat it plain? If I'm having vanilla, I'll usually add chocolate syrup. Have you ever witnessed a crime? Yes. What’s the coolest personalized license plate you’ve ever seen? I'm forever gonna get a kick out of this one that just said "omw," haha.

[zayndrivesmeinvain]

Harry breaks Y/N Glasses  *requested*

**maybe harry’s with a reader with glasses and maybe they get broken/lost and she stresses about it**

-

It’s a cold winter morning but you’re fortunately heated up thanks to the 6 foot man that is sprawled all over your sleeping body. You look around the room and notice that not much sunlight has reached in yet, you look over at your phone and notice that it’s only 6:24 A.M. Harry is still very much asleep as he didn’t get home until late last night, he was out with some of his old friends since being home. 

You look down at your loving boyfriend, his mouth slightly cracked open and his one long arm holding you close to him, he doesn’t want to let go and you most definitely don’t want him too either. You’ve tried drifting back into sleep but you absolutely can’t, you’ve been tossing and turning for the last half hour and you can’t bare to lay down anymore.

You shimmy out of Harry’s grip and grab your glasses from your night stand before making your way through the house. You’re on break from school and you couldn’t be any happier, however, laundry has piled up from the last month, you and Harry are on your last bath towel and you both needed to get his house cleaned up before the holidays. You make your way through the hallway and down the stairs into Harry’s kitchen, start the coffee pot and grab some eggs from the fridge. You didn’t get to eat dinner last night because you fell asleep early on the couch, which prompted Harry to carry you to his bed. The floor beneath your feet sends chills up your body and it doesn’t help that the only thing you have on is one of Harry’s t shirts. You don’t mind waking up before Harry because it gives you time to yourself and you’re able to start cleaning the house up because once Harry wakes up, he’s going to want all the attention in the world. 

The kitchen wasn’t physically messy, however, neither of you have taken the time to wipe the counters down or mop the floors that was definitely a must for the day. Your living room and dining room were both having the same issues now and you didn’t know where to start. 

-

The kitchen is practically spotless and all left to do in the living room is to wash the throw blankets in the wash and refill the oil plug ins in the wall. When you first met Harry, he didn’t know much about taking care of a home. He had a maid that came two times a week that would do his laundry for him and tidy up his home. However, when you started getting serious with him, yoy  told him it was important to you for him to learn these things. Slowly, he started to get the hang of it but it for sure took some time. Teaching him how to do a load of laundry took the most effort because he couldn't understand why there are different water temperatures and what was the difference between a large and medium cycle wash. You however were very patient with him no matter how long it took. While he was on tour and checked on his mail for him, you often would change the plug in scents and freshly washed his sheets for him the day he was coming back, even though the bed was untouched, you wanted him to come home and make it feel homey. 

Speaking of Harry, he’s finally awake. You just heard the bedroom door shut and you can hear his feet hitting against the cold hard wood. You know he’s checking his emails and any missed phone calls because that’s his usual routine in the mornings when he wakes up. You already have Harry’s coffee cup ready and you made him some eggs. You place them down on the island for him while you wash some of the dishes, “ Good morning sleepy head. Get some rest?” your boyfriend looks up at you with groggy eyes and a faint smile, “ Yeah Bub, just wish I coulda’ slept longer. My manager kept calling me I can’t ignoring ehm. I’m still so tired Bubs”, poor Harry can never catch a break. My glasses keep sliding down from looking down at the dishes and back up, so I gently place them back down on the island and get to them later. “ Why can’t you just tell them that you’re on holiday? Tis’ the season to be Jolly, and you my friend don’t look so Jolly at the moment” Harry’s eye move up from his plate and throw a piece of egg at you that ultimately lands on his shirt that you’re wearing, “ It’s not that easy, I can’t just shut them out… no matter how much I want to”. You give him a cheeky grin that ultimately lands out sitting on the bar stool next to him drawing small circles along his arms and back. It’s something you learned early on that relaxes Harry, small gentle touches is all he needs sometimes. You hands lose their way into his curls, making you gently tug on them, a small groan escapes from his throat and he looks back at you. 

“ You can’t do that while I’m eating. I may choke on my food, silly.” he pushes your hand away playfully while a few laughs escape your lips. Harry finishes his food and places his dirty dishes in the sink across from him and lays his hands back onto your thighs. “ Let’s get away somewhere, just the two of us after the holidays, no phones, no one bothering us. That way, you have some peace and quiet before going back to school and I don’t have to answer any phone calls. How does that sound Bub?” Harry gently lifts you up from your butt and onto the island so you’re staring at each other eye to eye but once he places you down you hear a snap and a crack. You know what broke before even looking at it. 

“ Bub, I yer’ just sat on yer’ glasses” Harry didn’t know what else to say to you. You’re not exactly mad but you’re a little disappointed because you don’t have a spare pair and your contacts are back at your apartment. Without your glasses, you’re good as blind, you can barely see anything without and everything is just a blur. 

‘Bubs, just breathe. It’s okay, I can go back to your place and get your other ones or we can order new ones or get your contacts, or..” you cut him off. “ Harry, those were my favorite pair and they cost me a fortune. Just go get dressed and drive me home, I can barely see.” Harry felt bad because he technically did break them but your ass is what sat on them. 

-

“ Y/N, I’m really sorry.” You and Harry were half way back to your apartment and it’s been pretty quiet. You’re not mad at him or yourself but this is just inconvenient. Your apartments on the other side of town and you can’t even remember where your spare glasses are. You’ve always worn the same ones and they don’t make this style anymore. These perfectly framed your face and didn’t bother you much and they were pretty cute. 

“ I’m not mad at you, they were just my favorite pair. I honestly don’t even know where my spare glasses are. I’ll just pop my contacts in”. Harry knows how much you hate wearing your contacts, you primarily wear them during school because it’s not as much of a hassle, but during the break, you want to give your eyes a break and be able to relax them. 

“ I’ll help you look for them. We’ll find them.” You lay your head on your window and people watch out the window and wonder what everyone else’s lives are up to and what could be occurring

-

A week goes by and you’re still stuck with your old, boxy thick glasses from high school and they’ve only brought annoyance to your life. You’ve gained some weight in your face since being in highschool, so they fit tight on your face which is causing you headaches and you’re not even sure if they’re the correct prescription but you make do with what you got. .

Harry’s been out all day running errands but he should be heading home soon, it’s starting to get dark and Harry tends to not like when you’re home alone and it’s dark outside. You hear the alarm buzz, signaling that Harry’s arrived home and you hear his footsteps approaching you.

“ I got yeh’ a gift. Close them beautiful eyes of yours” you thought this was a little too cliche for the two of you but you went ahead and followed his instructions anyways. You feel a small gentle box placed in your lap and you wait for him to tell you to open them. The box is a short but long, and is wrapped in Green and Red Christmas wrapping paper and topped off with a gold bow. 

You tear through the paper and you’re introduced to black box, you pop the lid open and a smile creeps on your face. This wasn’t a Christmas present, this was an apology present. 

“ I got them custom made for you. I couldn’t find the original anywhere so that's why it took so long. I have a spare of the same ones hidden in the car.” Harry was so proud of himself, “ Now you can properly see again, Bubs.” he thought the joke was hysterical so I went along.

“ They’re identical to my old ones, thank you so much. I love you, Harry”. Harry knew how much I loved these glasses and they made a perfect present. 

“ How do I look?” you show your new found glasses off and he begins to laugh. “ Better than ever, Bubs”

** I’m sorry if this sucked and is kind of short, I was having a tough time and tried to make it long as possible! **

[nostalgiaispeace]

2089.

What’s your name?

ashley

Where do you live? kentucky

When’s your birthday? december 24th

What’s your astrological sign? capricorn

Do you actually believe in that stuff? no. it’s fun tho

How old are you? 30

Do you have a high school diploma or the equivalent? yeah

Do you have an undergraduate degree? If so, in what? never finished

What is your favorite…

Quote?

i don’t have one

Color? orange

Song? i dont have one

Band/singer? lana del rey

Book? harry potter

Author? jk rowling

School subject? -

Science (chemistry, biology, physics, etc.)? -

Math (algebra, geometry, calculus, etc.)? -

Language? french

Operating system? apple

Instrument? piano

Letter? I don’t have one

Number? 3

Car? 1967 chevy impala

Pattern (polka spots, stripes, plaid, etc.)? plaid

Word? -

Animal? Kitties!

Country? europe

Drink (alcoholic or otherwise)? coffee

Food? pizza

Restaurant? mexican

Website? tumblr

Sport? gymnastics

Flower? lilies

Ice cream flavor? chocolate chip cookie dough

Television show? supernatural

Shirt? i don’t have one

Shape? star

Eye color? brown

Hair color? blonde

Movie? titanic

Gum flavor? peppermint

Random Stuff About You

Do you have your drivers’ license?

Yes

Have you ever been swimming in an ocean? yeah

What’s the last song you listened to? -

Do you prefer coloring pencils, crayons, or markers? coloring pencils

Can you make any origami figures? If so, what? no

Do you still sleep with a stuffed animal? yeah

Do you get cold easily? no

Have you ever been to a chiropractor? no

Do you have great eyesight, or do you wear glasses or contacts? glasses

Do you know how to play chess? no

Do you know how to play checkers? no

Do you like Sudoku puzzles? no

Do you like word searches? no

Do you like crossword puzzles? yeah

Do you like logic puzzles? no

Can you play any card games? no

Do you play board games? yeah

Do you do jigsaw puzzles? no

Do you listen to the same song on repeat for a long time, even occasionally? i do

Do you take any prescription medications on a regular basis? yes

Would you prefer to be too hot or too cold? neither

Do you like to swim? no

Have you ever been to a farm? yeah

Do you like instrumental music? yeah

Do you drink diet soda? yes

Do you drink soda? yes

Have you ever put Mentos into soda? no

Have you ever combined baking soda and vinegar? yes

Did you ever make Oobleck in science class when you were a kid? no

Do you know any HTML? not anymore

Have you ever read any of Shakespeare’s work? many

Do you write poetry? sometimes

Do you read? yes

Can you throw a frisbee? not well

Do you watch a lot of television? not really

Do you think that you have a good sense of humor? yeah

Are you a mean person? i can be

Do you have any bruises? If so, how did you get them? no

Does the thought of public speaking make you nervous? no

Are you afraid of heights? yeah

So, what ARE you afraid of? fish

Are you listening to music? No

Has anyone ever called you ‘disturbed’? i dont’ think so

Have you ever been kicked out of a place? If so, where? And why? no

Do you take a lot of these surveys? yeah

When was the last time you fingerpainted? idk

When was the last time you sent an e-mail? idk

A text message? today

Called someone on the phone? today

Tripped over something? today im’ sure

Do you like chocolate? yeah

How many pillows are on your bed? 6

Do you have any pets? yeah

Have you ever been on a horse? yeah

Have you ever climbed a tree? yah

Do you like art? yeah

Do you use any sort of social networking site? yeah

What time is it? 8:47pm

Have you ever been in a car accident? yeah

When was the last time you felt embarrassed? today

Did it rain today? yeah

Have you ever had a poison ivy rash? no

When was the last time you felt immensely happy? today

Do you take a multivitamin or any other supplement? yes. prenatals and iron

What household chore do you absolutely hate? all of them

Tell me something random about yourself. i’m pregnant

Can you cook? yeah

Do you like to be silly? yeha

What kinds of things have you wanted to be 'when you grow up’? singer. actress.

Have you ever been on a boat? yeah

Do/did you like school? i liked college

Do you have a camera? on my phone

Have you ever been bitten by a tick? No

Have you ever seen a wild snake? no

Have you ever gone hiking in the woods? yeah

Do you have a lot of friends? no

Do you keep a diary/journal/blog? not really

What color are your eyes? brown

Do you like snow? yeah

Would you prefer to sing or dance in front of other people? sing

Would you prefer to sing or dance when you’re by yourself? both

Can you spell really well? no

Do you mind poor grammar? i do

What’s your favorite texting/IM abbreviation? omg and lol

Do you wear a watch? no

Do you shop at thrift stores? no

What is your dream job? to be a stay at home mom

What is one thing that really freaks you out? fish

Do you like bananas? Yes

Do you eat meat? yes

Do you drink coffee? not since i’ve been pregnant

Do you clean your computer screen often? no. i should tho lol

Have you ever sneezed onto your computer screen? yeah

Let’s talk about numbers.

How many people live with you?

1

How many digits of pi do you have memorized? 3.14159

Can you count using binary numbers? no

How many states have you visited? a lot

How many countries? none

How many browser windows/tabs do you have open? a lot

How many times have you blinked in the past minute? idk

How many seconds are in a minute? 60

Are you afraid of mathematics? no

What’s the square root of 121? 11

Sorry, sorry, the nightmare is over :) How about some more random questions to let you relax?

Have you ever read the webcomic xkcd?

no

Can you play an instrument? no

Can you read sheet music? yes

What’s your favorite kind of sandwich? italian sub

Do you have a bedtime? no

Have you ever gone sledding? no

Have you ever carved a pumpkin? If so, what kind of face did you make? yeah. a normal one

Do you ever make funny faces at yourself in the mirror? yeah

Have you ever played the classic shaving-cream-in-the-hand prank on someone? no

Do you think that’s a mean thing to do? yeah

Do you like cake? yeah

Do you like pie? yes

Do you like popsicles? love

Do you use the television or computer more? Computer

Do you have a favorite chair to sit in? yeah

Are you getting tired of this survey? yeah

Do you like to wear hats? no

Do you wear your seatbelt in the car? Yes

Do your shoes provide lots of arch support? no

Do you like to go to yard sales? no

Have you ever had a yard sale at your house? yeah

Do you like apples? allergic

Do you like peanut butter? yes

Do you like licorice? nooo

Do you like lima beans? ew no

Do you like limes? yeah

What color are your bedroom walls? off white

Guess how many questions you’ve done. I don’t know either, so just guess. no

What’s your favorite color to wear? black

Do you tell secrets when people confide in you? depends

Do you listen to your music with the volume up really high? depends

Do you like to try new foods? no

How many different programs are you currently using? just firefox

How many different operating systems have you used? i’m old so alot

What time is it now? 8:53pm

Are you wearing socks? no

Are you comfortable with yourself? no

Do you lose small things (like your car keys) often? no

Is your mind in the gutter? No

Have you ever broken a bone? no

Are you more of an introvert or an extrovert? Introvert

Do you read the dictionary for fun? no

Tater tots or fries? fries

Do you like to wear flip flops? no

Are you more of an optimist or pessimist? pessimist

Do you like animals? yeah

Do you like little kids? yes

Are you a 'people person’? no

Have you ever seen a rainbow? yeah

How was your day? chill

What do you plan to do tomorrow? work

When was the last time you did laundry? today

Have you ever played Snake? yes

Have you ever played Scrabble? yes

Are there any television commercials that really get on your nerves? all of them

Do you like scary movies? yes

Are you itchy anywhere on your body? yes

What’s the title of the last book you read? a pregnancy book

Do you read more fiction or nonfiction books? a good mix

Are you a member of any clubs or organizations? Nope

What color is your favorite pair of socks? i don’t have any

Do you own a lava lamp? No

Do you have anything else to say? no                            

[pascalpvnk]

idk if your taking blurb requests but if so pls could u do 5&8

2.1k of something I kinda threw together super quick, I’m sorry if anything seems rushed (masterlist linked in bio)

Warnings: angst, swearing, arguing, car accident, commitment issues(?), loopy reader, teeny tiny bit of fluff

5: “Wake up! Please wake up.”

8: “is that blood?” “....no?”

“Why are you making it into such a big deal, Shawn? I’m sorry that I can’t go, but I have no choice.” You try to keep your voice as calm as you can manage. There’s no use in raising it when your tone is clearly annoyed and you’re sitting in the same vehicle. At least that’s your logic, not so much Shawn’s.

“It’s a big fucking deal because it’s my best friend’s wedding!” He yells. Again, you’re both in the same vehicle, making it incredibly unnecessary.

The wedding of the century, that Shawn forgot to mention when it was announced. Yes, you saw the engagement photos all over social media but there was never a date. Brian has hand delivered the letter to Shawn while they were away on tour, so you had no knowledge of its existence. So when you’re told about it less than a month before the date, yeah you’re kinda fucking pissed. 

“I can’t go, I’m sorry. We talked about this already, why are you bringing it up again?”

“I went to your best friend’s wedding and I had to reschedule a bunch of shit to accommodate it into my schedule,” he defends.

“I gave you almost a year in advance to do that and that’s why it worked out. But Brian’s wedding? The one that I just learned about a few days ago, Shawn? I can’t request time off of work! I have absolutely zero vacation hours left, and I can’t just drop my job to go on vacation for a week for a wedding. That’s not how the real world works.”

You’ll admit, your sound raised a notch, but nothing compared to Shawn’s still. He tends to get louder when he knows he’s losing an argument. 

“Why can’t you just quit? You don’t have to work, uh hello,” he motions to himself, “problem solved. Put in your two weeks notice and we can go then.” Shawn leaves one of his hands off his steering wheel so he can bite his nails on the other. He knows he’s entered dangerous territory and that nervous habit is a dead giveaway. You two fight about this often and it’s always left unresolved, but you still have your job and it drives him nuts.

“I’m not going to quit my job and leech off of you for the rest of our relationship. That’s not how I wanna do things.”

“You’re not going to be ‘leeching off me’ or whatever nonsense you’re making up,” both of his hands raising to do air quotes around those words in particular. “We’ve talked about you moving in so you can drop the lease on your apartment and hey, newsflash: I want you to move in with me.”

You catch his eyes lurking on you before you turn away. Your heart skips a beat not just because his stare is intense but he’s driving and not paying attention to the road.

“Keep your eyes on the road before you fucking kill us.” 

Fighting with Shawn is reasonably your least favorite thing to do. That with his risky driving, on a busy stretch of road may you add, has anxiety rolling off you in waves, causing you to cover your eyes with your hands. You aren’t crying, but you just don’t want to look at him while he’s fuming or see things out the window whipping by the car. 

“I’m driving fine, I know how to drive. Don’t tell me what to do,” he snaps. If you hadn’t noticed it before, you definitely notice it now. He’s being a complete asshole for no good reason. 

“Don’t tell me that I need to quit my job. It keeps me busy when you’re on tour for months at a time. You’re working and so am I and there’s nothing wrong with that,” you state and take your hands away from your face. There’s still no desire to look out the window so you close your eyes and turn your head towards it. Now you can play with your fingers and still hide your eyes. 

“You wouldn’t need to keep busy if you just went on tour with me. There’s a thought.” His aggression is very prominent, but not just in his voice. It’s making the air thick and hot, which in other cases could be the best describing words for something, but this isn’t one of those cases. This case is completely the opposite. 

“No, Shawn, I can’t go on tour with you! I can’t move in with you! It’s too fucking early to do those things. Yes, I completely adore you and I can’t see myself without you but that doesn’t mean I’m not scared! Shit could happen and I’m not comfortable with those commitments yet, and you should respect that!” You open your eyes and stare out in front of you. Not yelling? A lost cause. It’s now the only way you feel like he’s going to listen to you and understand your decisions. 

“What?” He breathes out, looking at you. You let your eyes catch his for just a second. There’s guilt and sorrow in them, very much in contrast to the flames that were present a few moments prior, and you let yourself get lost in them for a split second

The sound of honking breaks you out of your trance. A flash of red is in front of you before you realize you’re in the middle of the intersection. A sound rips out of your throat, you’re fully meaning to yell Shawn’s name, but aren’t sure if it came out that way. A car is hurtling toward your side of the vehicle and everything feels like it’s in slow motion. Shattered glass flies around Shawn’s car as the seat belt locks against you and your head bangs against your window, causing everything to go completely dark. 

—

Shawn wakes up in the ambulance, completely immobile and utterly in pain. His pulse pounding in his ears and every light feels like they’re blinding him. He registers that he has an oxygen mask on and that he’s strapped down from head to toe. There’s an EMT above him squeezing the bag that’s attached to his mask on certain counts.

“He’s conscious,” they mutter. There’s some shuffling around before there’s a light shining directly into his eyes. “Can you hear me?”

He lets out a groan in response. When he comes to a bit more, he remembers you. You were in the car that he crashed and you’re not here with him right now. Shawn’s eyes open wide and the pounding noise becomes louder. God, what if she’s gone.

“She’s okay,” says the person who had previously been shining a light in his eye. “The girl in your car, whoever she is to you, is in the other ambulance and she’s stable. Just keep breathing steady. We’re almost there.”

Many hours go by and Shawn hears not much else and you and it’s driving him up the wall. He’s finished filling out his paperwork and is discharged with a previously dislocated, now adorned in a sling, shoulder, plenty of bruises, cuts to the face and a prescription to pick up. He’s lucky that he came out with so few injuries but he’s insanely worried about you.

A doctor in scrubs walks into the waiting room where Shawn is nervously sitting, silently begging to hear anything. The man in all blue announces your name and before he could finish it, Shawn is on his feet.

“I’m Shawn. That’s my girlfriend,” he stutters. “Is she okay? Where is she?” His words are frantic and jumbled. 

“She made it through surgery. Multiple bone fractures in her arm caused by impact from the airbag. Minor concussion and some bruising, but otherwise she’s on the road to recovery. You’ll be able to see her after she wakes up when she gets transported to her room to stay in overnight. You’re welcome to wait there until then, and her parents will probably be arriving around midnight.”

Shawn blinks his eyes, trying to retain every bit of information that he has just received. But one thing pops out, that is that you’re okay. He still feels incredibly guilty but he couldn’t be happier that you’re alive.

So he waits in what’s soon to be your room. The fact that you haven’t woken up yet is making him fearful. ‘Wake up! Please wake up,’ he thinks, hopes, prays and practically begs into the empty room. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he left here without you. Hell, he doesn’t really remember the person he was before he met you. You changed everything in his life for the better. For the best, really. He sleeps easier when you’re around. His friends have told him that he’s happier or even glowing when you’re around. Every part of him wants to be with you, and you’re his first priority and he wants to show you that. He definitely failed to do so today. 

His mind wanders to the fight, regretting every second of it. You two could’ve died and the last memory you would’ve had of each other would’ve been you guys fighting. Yes, he’s still upset that you can’t go to Brian’s wedding, but he knows that he waited too long to announce it to you even if he never said it out loud. But the one thing he never was aware of was that you’re afraid of committing, but understandably so. Shawn is constantly gone, and it is a bit early in your relationship. He hates himself for getting so mad at something you can’t control and being an asshole about everything else. If something really bad had happened and his last memory of you two was him starting an argument with you, he would never be able to live with himself. 

His thoughts are cut short when a doctor comes in, the same one from beforehand. Shawn scrubs his hand over his face to find dampness on his cheeks. It never occurred to him that he was crying.

“So Shawn, she’s awake. Still a little out of it, but she should recognize you. We’re going to keep her here overnight to make sure everything is running smoothly before she goes home,” he smiles. Shawn lets out a sigh of relief and mutters a weak thank you. He can’t wait to see you in person again and he’s so thankful that you’re okay.

You’re wheeled into the room, eyes half closed but a dopey smile taking over your lips. One of your arms is in what looks like a cast and your face is all scratched up. Shawn’s heart stammers against his chest at the sight of you. Waves of relief crash into him, but he also feels incredibly guilty about what he’s caused. He hurt you in a way that he never deemed possible.

“See, I told you,” you slur at the nurse, “he’s hot.”

Shawn chuckles and tears fill in his eyes. He isn’t too sure why he’s getting emotional again other than he feels so lucky to see you again.

“Yeah, uh huh. You need to get some sleep, honey,” the nurse tells you. “Let me know if either of you need anything.” She leaves the two of you alone and Shawn is still in shock. He did that to you. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he mumbles, tears still threatening to fall once again. Wanting to be able to hold your hand, he moves a chair to your good side and plops down next to the bed.

You kind of just look at him blankly. He doesn’t know if you’re recalling the fight or if you’re just not fully aware of where you are yet. Either way, you still accept his hand when he laces his fingers with yours.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice getting caught in his throat. “So, so sorry.”

“S’okay, Shawn. I’m okay, you’re okay. We’re okay.” You’ve seemed to come to a little bit more and he senses a double meaning within your words. Not just that you two are physically okay, but that your relationship is okay as well. 

A tear or two slip past his eyelid as he nods his head. He brings your hand up to his lips and leaves a few pecks. Some of his fresh tears hit your hand and you look at him utterly confused. 

“Is that blood?”

His brows furrow and he then realizes. You can see the cut on his lip but you can’t see what’s on your hand. A grin spreads across his face because your common sense has been thrown out of the window.

“...no? I’m definitely not crying either,” he jokes. “Just licking your hand.”

“Eww!!” You howl as loud as you can—which isn’t loud at all—with your eyes the widest they’ve been since you’ve come into the room. That’s when he knows that you’re really okay, that you’re both truly okay. 

—

permanent taglist: @yourvoiceislikearose @queen-of-sarcasm-bae @moonlightmendes22 @delicaateshaawn @lover-holland (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[midnight-watch-committee]

Story 1: what happened to Sheridan

Journalism, second period of the day, 9:34 in the morning., June 22nd, 2018.

There was a tv on in the class room, we always had the news on in there to help us, "a free cheat sheet if you use it right" as Mr. Haddison would call it. Every now and again people would be mildly interested in what was happening: law suits, politics, and murder for the morbid. A sudden gasp escaped from the girl next to me. Her name was Beth and if you saw her, you’d probably expect her to be a computer club kid. A headband kept her bright orange hair that almost looked fake from falling into her rounded, golden framed glasses, she was the youngest person in this room by about five minutes and she made sure you knew when you walked in, her sporadic and adventure seeking personality was as wild as the bright stickers on her laptop and pins on her shirt which told you every fandom she was in. She tapped me quickly on the shoulder, which was met by a cold “I’m busy,” but her insistent tapping eventually made me cave, as I looked up to what was shocking her, I realized why she gasped so loudly. “How do you lose an entire town?!” I said, or rather screamed. My friend Mikey quickly covered my mouth, expecting me to scream more about something or other, but I was more in shock than anything.  Mikey slowly moved his hand off my mouth and wiped it on his letterman jacket, “Could you be any louder?” he asks sarcastically, which I feel tempted to test but decide against it. Sheridan, Wyoming...”it was just there five minutes ago”, according to one of the people interviewed, a man who left town to grab a prescription from a nearby pharmacy. “Hey, Mike, how far is that” I asked. “Not crazy far-Juni, do you have another stupid idea?” he answered, already knowing what I was gonna say, “Just one...” I respond. “Dumb ideas? Like what, going to the crater formerly known as Sheridan? Juni, it’s gone, I’m sure the police are-” Beth started before getting shot a “shut the fuck up” look from Mikey. “What are the cops gonna do? IT’S GONE! If they plan on arresting us for looking at a hole in the ground, I’m sure a court will easily rule in our favor.” I spit out. “Jeez, fine! If you two are going, I’m tagging along to make sure you idiots don’t get hurt.” Beth said whipping out her phone “What time should I expect Mr. Can’t drive for shit to show up?” Mikey let out a chuckle. Not his “I found that funny” chuckle but a forced one, the kind you do when your sister tells a really bad joke but your mom shot you a look. “8:30, ditch the pink, we’re trespassing and we can’t repeat the O’Reily house incident.” She gave me a thumbs up, punched it into her phone and went back to her work.

The Vallen residence, 8:20 at night.

I looked in the mirror one last time, my jet-black hair an absolute mess but not like I’d ever bother fixing it. I decided to settle on a blue baseball cap to hide the rat’s nest. A black sleeveless jacket and torn blue jeans were my only real protection from anyone spotting my pale ass from a mile away. I checked the film on my grandfather’s, well mine now, camera. I gently trailed my finger over the weird markings that surround the outside of the camera. I heard my phone go off from the other room and darted over to it, slipping it in my jacket pocket and making a break for the door, pulling up my black face mask and hoping in the back of Mikey’s dark red pickup truck. He had some cheerleader girl up front with him and they clearly seemed to be taking a while so I gave the roof a few rough slaps. He rolled his window down and snapped “How many times do I have to say stop doing that before you fucking stop?” I rolled my eyes and laid down as we pulled off. I shot Beth a text letting her know we were on our way and took a nap for the 30 minuets it took to get to her place, she hopped in and checked to make sure I was still alive, trying to keep me awake so I was ready to do my job. I was the group photographer, Mike was the muscle and Beth was our pretty face who got everyone’s attention, I’d do more up-front stuff if it wasn’t for my social anxiety so for now that goes to Beth. “Did you check the film?” she asked, to which I nodded. “Good, good...how do I look?” I crack a smile and give her the trademark Beth Thumbs up ™, curving my thumb slightly to copy hers. She rolled her eyes and made sure her recorder was still working. There was something about the way the light hit her and the look in her eyes that left me stunned. Click! I snapped a quick picture of her and waved the film around, checking it. Perfect. I slipped it into my jacket pocket hoping she didn’t see me take it as the truck comes up on what was Sheridan.

Sheridan, Wyoming 8:50 at night.

We slowed to a halt a few inches away from the crater. “God, does he want us to get stuck in there?” I mumbled to Beth before hoping out, tapped on the window and gestured for him to back up. The vehicle rolled back and just as quickly as he reversed, he slammed down on the breaks, most likely giving poor Beth a major concussion. Mikey got out from the front, telling Sherri or Cherri or Cherry or whatever her name was to wait there, Beth started her audio recorder and we started our search. We walked around the perimeter of Former Sheridan, snapping photos of weird shaped rocks that seemed placed by something to hold the dirt back from reaching the middle and flowers that were left in the crater by those who thought everyone there was dead already, sitting in between all those flowers were four glowing blue rocks. “We should go in.” I blurt out, “I mean, when have we ever been scared to go into something? We’ve been in hospitals during outbreaks for Christ's sake!” Beth and Mikey look at each other, have a quick whisper debate that seems to end in Beth winning and sends Mikey back to the truck to grab some climbing equipment and set it up at the spot we were standing near. Beth offered me the rope and I accepted, sliding down all the way to the bottom of the crater, about 15 feet deep. “what the- HEY GUYS GET DOWN HERE!” I shouted, and started snapping pictures of a hole dug into the side of the crater...no, dug is wrong. There were bite marks on the outside of the hole. As if provoked by my camera, a gray, eight legged, slimy, insect shaped...CREATURE came charging out. It’s lack of eyes was amplified by it snarling, four toothed jaw. If you took of the tail of a scorpion and made it the size of a small building, you’d have this thing. The creature started stomping around the crater screeching. Legs brought up dust, chomping it up in the air. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!” Beth screamed down into the hole and honestly, I didn’t know. I snapped a few more quick photos and broke for the rope, not wanting to be down there any longer. On my way up, I noticed the writing on the outside of the camera glowing, now readable as “Midnight watch committee.” As whatever the fuck that was screeched after us, we hoped in the truck and booked it, leaving cheer girl in wonder as to what we saw down there but we didn’t even have the sanity in that moment to describe it,.

Vallen residence, Midnight.

This thing was like something right out of some old country children’s tale. “Wait a minute...” I thought to myself, I flung open every filing cabinet in the attic, trying to find the old book my grandfather use to read to me from. My mom always hated it and time and time again told him to not read it to me, but he never listened. “The world’s a scary place,” he would say “nothing wrong with teaching her what to expect.” After maybe the 500th cabinet filled with pitch blackness, my hands bumped into the large leather-bound book. I blew the dust off it, remembering the last time I had ever had this read to me was when my mom was still alive. As if like magic, I open the book up to a random page and saw exactly what I was looking for, “The Earth Eater.” My jaw dropped reading everything in there, all the lives it had taken...but what really threw me off was...the book mentioned Sheridan’s disappearance. Did the author know? Was this some kind of joke? I set the book down on my Grandfather’s dark colored oak desk and went to bed, my mind still racing.

Bus ride from Vallen residence to Big Horn high school, 6:15, June 23rd, 2018

It was a cold early morning, but if you were up then, even in the pitch blackness, you would’ve seen the way the ground exploded near us as the Earth Eater rose from the ground, sending the bus flying. It felt like everything happened so quickly yet so slowly at the same time. I got sent flying into the seat next to me, like many others, and hit my arm against the seat hard enough to hear a loud cracking sound. It felt like every single nerve in my body dedicated itself to making me feel nothing but pain in my arm at that moment, as I tried to move it, I realized just how badly it had truly broken. The creature charged toward the bus, its none existent eyes locked on me I imagine, and for one last desperate attempt to make a story out of this, I pointed my camera at it the best I could through a window. A soft Click! Filled the air, followed by a vrrr as the camera pushed out a Polaroid, by the time the photo had made it to me, Earth Eater was gone, back to maybe one day return from whence it went, or maybe not at all.

[milatherese]

Update No. 5 (*cue Mambo No. 5*) – 90 Days, School, Discernment (just a lil bit)

Note #1: This update is long. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Note #2: If you don’t know Mambo No. 5, you need to listen to it (even though the lyrics may be morally wrong, it is quite catchy).

“How was the 90 day journey of a tiny bit of asceticism?” you ask. (nobody cares but I’m pretending you do haha)

That’s a question I still ask myself several days later. 90 days is a lot to process. Therefore, I have included my short answer to this question here: – It was a bit hard in the beginning but got easier as the days went by – I especially enjoyed the no social media / limited communication – I hated cold showers, actually gave it up by the end of the first month or so because it did more harm than good (imo)

The beginning was a little rough, but about as good as sacrifice gets. (you can read my thoughts on that here, here, and here) About a month in, I couldn’t cope, at least physically. I ended up just doing what I felt I was strong enough to do.

January was a little rough. Ever since school started, I had headaches every day (including non-school days). (If you’re wondering why I never shared this with you and why I hid my pain, it was because I didn’t want you to worry.)

At first the headaches were tolerable. I could get through a 12-hour day with minimal pain. They got increasingly worse. I began taking Tylenol according to the recommended dosage (1-2 tablets every 4-6 hours). I didn’t take Tylenol every other day (I try to avoid medicine, if possible) but I eventually “graduated” to taking the extra strength Tylenol, also according to the recommended dosage. Eventually, the headaches began to impact my studying. I had limited time to study (I had to time my studying during the lesser painful waves of my headaches). I was so worried for one class that I spent all my time studying for that one class during lecture of another difficult class (I figured I could bring up my grade in the second class later). Despite my high of level of unpreparedness, I was looking forward to taking the exams for both classes. I thought my headaches were the result of stressing over those two classes. Unfortunately, taking the exams for those classes didn’t end the headaches. In fact, they may have increased the pain.

My headaches soon became unbearable. I couldn’t hide the pain any longer. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t eat out of fear that I would only make the pain worse. I was in tears from the pain. Massaging my head and using an ice pack didn’t reduce the pain. I wanted to rip my head off to get rid of the pain once and for all.

At this time, I decided it was time to begin thinking about seeing the doctor about this. (Yes, I should have already gone to the doctor but my pain isn’t really a concern to me.) I decided that I would go to the doctor if the headaches persist for another week.

The pain was at its absolute worst one Saturday. I had to call in sick for work (we had an event – which I was really looking forward to, btw). I spent the day crying from the pain (at this point, my body wasn’t really responding to Tylenol). Finally, the physical pain began to affect my mental health. I was trying to figure out the root cause of the pain. I began questioning all my decisions – transferring high schools, transferring universities, not applying to a certain community, leaving relationships, etc. I was wondering if this was some sort of a punishment for making the “wrong” decision (which I later learned is no such thing, more on this another day). I felt so lost and alone. I was wondering if this was a taste of what Mother St. Teresa described as a “long dark night.” (I referenced this before in my last update but I just can’t get her long dark night out of my head.) I eventually cried myself to sleep and slept the rest of the day until 2am the next day.

When I woke, I noticed the pain had disappeared and, with it, the emotional rollercoaster I was going through earlier. I was able to get some rest from the physical and emotional pain and my mind was finally functioning as it normally would – quiet and able to think logically. It was clear that my pain was not for torment but for me to focus on something more important than the pain itself. I decided to pray the Rosary for it had been several weeks since I had been able to pray the Rosary without distractions (I would either fall asleep or be distracted by the headache or my studies). I prayed God would help me discern what He wanted me to tend to. I felt that I should prayerfully consider my career path now that I was away from outside influences.

I began reflecting on my semester thus far. There was one day that my mom visited campus and overheard some girls complimenting and encouraging each other. She told me, “I want you to be in whatever major they’re in. They seem happy. You don’t.” At the time, I was too stubborn to see that my happiness was just a mask I put on to “be strong.” I remembered writing pre-labs and post-labs but barely understanding the material, only understanding the grammar necessary to produce acceptable scholarly work. I recalled being so stressed that I was rude to the whole world (except for work) to the point that my mom exclaimed, “Who are you? You’re not human anymore!”  She was right – I wasn’t myself.  That woke me up. I thought, “What good is my major if it only brings out the worst in me?” In prayer, felt called to pursue another career instead of MD/DO. I still don’t know what career exactly, but I’m trusting that my time studying and preparing for MD/DO will help me in my calling.

That Sunday, I informed my parents and one trusted relative of my decision to change majors and they were overjoyed. (My uncle seemed to have already known in the beginning that I would leave the MD/DO path, but wanted me to come to that decision myself.)

So, I changed majors back to Allied Health, B.S.

I met with my academic advisor (not the one who screwed me over, for any of those who know the story) and we came up with a school plan. Estimated graduation date was Fall 2021.

I dealt with this change as best I could and things were on the up and up…until it wasn’t.

Early February, I learned that a close priest friend had passed away, just 3 days shy of his birthday. I had been looking forward to his birthday (not that I would be with celebrating with him, just happy he would be celebrating another year) so hearing the news was devastating. He was like an uncle to me. To quote what I said at a memorial, he was “a great friend, a big brother, a father figure, a very holy man, a man for others.” (There’s so much I can say on him but I’ll leave that for another post) The first day, I seemed okay. Minimal feelings of sadness. It hadn’t hit me yet. It hit me the very next day. And it hit hard and long. I was crying everywhere I went whenever I was away from family and friends. Some days were harder than others (my supervisor sent me home early to give me time to grieve). I was going through so many emotions. I was frustrated that I was taking so long to grieve (I later learned that grief has no time limit) and annoyed that I did not feel comfortable talking to my family or friends about it. I had faced loss before (when Bro. Morgan passed away), but never anything as devastating as this. I did not know how to cope with grief. I struggled to stay focused during class (actually broke down in tears at least during one class each day) and to finish my work (skipped out on a staff meeting due to waterworks). I cancelled a couple meetings and called in sick to group therapy twice. I distanced myself from the world and those who love[d] me. Unfortunately, all this affected my studies once again. Despite my lighter load, I could not concentrate. I did not think of sharing all this with my professors as I felt like they wouldn’t understand (or maybe I was just being stubborn again?)

It came time for RECongress and I held it together (somewhat…more on that on another post). It was that Friday that I was able to study without getting distracted by grief. I had an exam the following Monday. But one day of studying 3+ weeks of material was not enough to pass the exam. So there went that.

February went by with each day bleeding into the next. Each day was a blur until one blessed night.

My brother had arrived home late from school one day and as he was pulling into our driveway (why do we park on driveways and drive on parkways) a beautiful dog approached him. I won’t go into details but the dog is now ours and has been the biggest blessing this semester, especially in helping our family cope with grief. We believe (as do others) that Father Suarez sent her to us.

Come March and April, things were finally on the up and up again. I was studying every day and keeping up with work. But then quarantine hit and things went downhill yet again. I did become more active on this blog since March 16th but inside I was deteriorating. However, it wasn’t as detrimental as January and February. Let’s just say that I learned the house is not conducive to studying, I may need a new prescription for glasses, and we need to find better internet (or move to a place with better cell signal). I failed a final due to failed internet connection (thanks be to God I got another shot at it). I took my two other finals in the car in the parking lot in front of Starbucks.

Quarantine has been the best and the worst for me. I realized that spiritually, I was thirsty. Thirsty for God. I live-streamed Mass and adoration daily and at odd hours, even doing homework and studying “with God.” The more things I had to do, the more I felt the need to “hang” with God (which, in retrospect, may have been a bad decision because I ended up procrastinating and losing a lot of sleep). I learned to value receiving the sacraments in-person now. I’m more aware of when I sin or am near sin. It has also reignited the flame of faith. I’ve been doing a lot more spiritual reading, especially now that APU semester is over (still have one class at a JC).

Despite this, discernment got a bit murky. I began questioning my vocation and doing a lot more “reality checks” (and a lot more second-guessing). Frankly, I don’t think I would survive living in a community of all women since all my close friends are men. (Or is that an excuse I am making for myself?) I don’t think I would make a great mother either so perhaps I’m meant to be single? (Or am I just a harsh critic of myself and I would actually be a great mother?) I had not really spoken to my spiritual director in months (transportation and schedule issues, both on my part).

A priest I met at RECongress learned I was discerning religious life (if you didn’t know this, I hope this isn’t a surprise) and asked me to email him as soon as possible in case I need guidance. I didn’t email him until April 1st so that may have contributed to my overthinking. He replied a couple weeks later (and I replied a couple days after that and am still awaiting a response). I asked God for “another sign, for some clarity” and He gave me another. However, everything still looks murky to me. I feel both consolation and desolation at the same time. I might be facing another identity crisis like last semester. Aye.

Ok this is way longer than I had planned so I’m just gonna stop right here.

If you read this far, thank you for reading. If you relate to anything I shared, I hope you know that you’re not alone and that if you ever need anything (even if it’s just a listening ear), I’ll do my best to help. Just ask. (And if you need something but I haven’t replied in a long time, just reach out again. I forget to reply to messages quite often.)

[adhdsleepdeprivedstudent]

ADHD Wait What Episode 6(? i rlly don’t know oops ?) : hacks i learned

ok so literally since i was little up until i was diagnosed w ADHD my family and teachers all believed i was hypersensitive to everything but didn’t know why.

like certain kinds of sounds can literally leave me in tears, long durations of loud chatter such as a grocery store, specifically, was always an issue. not loud sounds themselves, i blast music to drown out the chatter, it’s the hundreds of sounds happening that all take my attention at once and drive me crazy.

certain textures of clothing and food even. i cannot stress how much i not even just hated but loathed wearing anything w sequins (which drive my mom crazy) bc if i felt it against my skin i would get super irritated. even w food i was such a picky eater and it wasn’t even always about taste but if something feels weird i can’t eat it or i feel like gagging.

smells. oh thank the lord. of all the senses, my smell is the weakest. like i literally cannot smell hardly anything. people can be gagging and choking and it sitting there like “what do you mean it smells like dog took a poop i can’t smell shit” (😂puns man, puns defeat the huns).

sight! people with light colored eyes have more sensitive eyes in general (hi it me) and because ya girl lives in a desert all there is is v v v brightsun (and i read in the dark a lot even tho mom said no woopsies she still doesn’t know) anyways certain kinds of lights, too many lights or lights too close together strain my eyes super badly! it got to the point that my school had to make an acception to allow me to wear my prescription sunglasses indoors bc the lights gave me super intense migraines and my docs weren’t happy about it.

sight, sound, smell, touch i’m missing something i’m missing something i’m missing something i will continue to type this until i remember sight sound touch smell sight sound touch smell cmon i

TASTE ok Taste. so the only thing i’ve notices is like i said texture really but also anything that’s sour, i love sour things don’t get me wrong but sour candies in particular idk what it is about them but like something about them makes me want to cry and puke em up and it’s not cute sight so that’s all five

kudos for reading this far.

NOW FOR THE ACTUAL HACKS SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG OK

taste: if you’ve pin pointed something that you eat or a kind of food that irks you or whatever, just avoid it if you remember super easy. if you remember. if not and you eat it. drink. the. water. get. the. taste. out. of. your. mouth. period.

sight: if it’s bright lights like me, sun-freaking-glasses!!!!!!! i cannot drive w put them. well i can but it’s a pain and i get a migraine and i’m v quickly reminded to put them on!!! on that note, keep several pairs anywhere you might need them. otherwise you’ll never see them again. keep one in your car, two maybe! one in ur purse, or backpack or both!! keep one by your keys if you have a designated key spot (i don’t but my grandma picks em up from the oddest places i swear). literally just go to ross or something and buy multiple pairs of cheap yet decent sunglasses. if you’re like me and wear regular glasses, buy multiple pairs again!!!! keep them everywhere!!! i always lose mine, always. if it weren’t for my ocd grandma whom i love so dearly i would literally never see ever. if your also like me and have a strange prescription like one eye is nearsighted and the other is farsighted, pop a lense and swap it out w the right one for that eye!!!!! it might be annoying but it works, or if your even more like me and one eye is basically fine but the other is absolutely horrid, buy walmart glasses w the prescription for the bad eye and just pop out the other lense. it looks silly but honestly who cares.

textures! yeeeeeeeee!! for a long time i had no control over this but if you do, just don’t buy the thing w the texture and if you impulse buy it, return it! take someone w you to make sure it actually happens! if you don’t have control explain to the person w the control that that texture irks you and agitated you and if they still don’t care just like...loose it? idk it worked for me until they just stopped buying the thing w the texture that makes me cringe.

smells. i know for me even tho i cannot smell v well, one smell that never fails to stop me in my track is the flowery scents! it absolutely must be v subtle. if i walk past a perfume/candle/scenty kinda store, i literally hold my breath as i pass. if it’s an every day smell for you, put on a candle you do like, or a nice room spray or even those icky dryer sheets (those are a texture that makes me squeal w discomfort i cannot even begin)

and most importantly for me, SOUND. OH HOLY MOTHER OF SNOWBALL DANCING BALLOONS I AM so overly sensitive to sound. i’ve noticed i cannot listen to a majority of rap bc they talk too fast for my mind to keep up and it hurts my head trying so i just avoid it. stores. make. me. so. stressed. i never ever ever ever go anywhere w out a pair of headphones. the chatter of a few is easy, maybe ten or so is bearable but more than that i start getting all ich and whatnot, stimulation overload occurs and all i want is to curl up and die in peace. instead! we turn on music we enjoy! and! blast! tf! out of it! if it’s loud noises! slightly lower, blast a more peaceful song. at school they also have to make accommodations and allow me to listen to my music so that the chatter of kids doesn’t make me literally cry. if there’s a lot going on sound wise i absolutely cannot concentrate ever. i will burst into tears from frustration and overstimulation and people don’t participate enjoy seeing a 17 year old balling their eyes out in a spin by chair saying it’s too loud, freaks em out

PLEASE IF YOU HAVE ANY OTHER HACKS OR TIPS LEAVE EM HERE FOR OTHERS WHO CAN TEY THEM OUT