#and my textbook is causing me some issues with breathing and headaches

[ms-demeanor]

i ordered a used textbook and let me just say that i don't think you should get to list used items as being in good (or even fair) condition if they're so soaked in patchouli oil that you can smell it from two rooms over.

[fernweh-writes]

How do you think the slashers would react to their s/o just crumbling to the floor because of a severe migraine

My chronic migraines give me plenty of experience with this one. Enjoy luv!

-Fern🌿

Slashers x S/O With Severe Migraines

Michael Myers

Michael would freak out, but of course you would never know that, he’s as expressionless as ever. But he’s worried about you, he’s never seen you in so much pain and he hates not knowing how to help. So when you crumble to the ground with your head in your hands his first instinct is to pick you up.

Does his best to do what you normally do whenever you have a migraine or bad headache. After getting you tucked into bed he closes the blinds remembering how you would throw an arm over your eyes to block out the light. Brings you a glass of water and some pain killers to try and help with the persistent pain.

You won’t have to worry about loud noises being an issue either considering Michael always moves around quietly. It’s a quality of his that normally annoys you since he scares the crap out of you so often but in the moment you’ve never been more grateful that your giant of a boyfriend is so quite.

If the nausea gets to you and you make a run for the bathroom, Michael will disappear. He may care about you but he’s not going to hold your hair back for you or anything. Will show up to carry you back to the bed once more though. Even he won’t leave you lying on the cold floor.

Bo Sinclair

Bo may have experience with extreme hangovers but he doesn’t have any experience with severe migraines. At first, when you begin to complain about the pain he teases you about it. “It can’t be that bad, darlin’, you’re just bein’ dramatic.” He simply doesn’t understand the severity of your migraines, so you can imagine his surprise when you fall to the ground grimacing and taking deep breaths.

He does his best to appear nonchalant but you can still tell he’s panicking. Bo’s not stupid, he knows you have a pretty good pain tolerance and has witnessed it first hand. So he understands that you have to be in some serious pain to just crumble to the ground like that.

Carries you up the stairs to the bedroom and just awkwardly hovers. Eventually he decides to ask Vincent for his help. Bo knows everything there is to know about cars but he’s helpless when it comes to fixing up people.

His best idea is to just lay with you and rub circles onto your skin in a poor attempt to distract you from the pain and discomfort. Keeps asking what he can do to help when really the best thing he could do is stop asking questions and learn to shut up for once in his life. If you snap at him he decides that he can allow it use this once but don’t ever try to again.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent spend most of his time underneath Ambrose in his workshop. So when he finally reappears on the surface only to find you sitting on the kitchen floor with your head in your hands he’s immediately worried and begins to fret over you.

I’m convinced that Vincent actually knows a lot about medicine. His messed up father most definitely left behind a bunch of medical textbooks in his office as well as a few medical journals as well. Reading all of them in his free time has given him a great understanding of anatomy and the human body. How else would he be so good with handling the bodies. He can properly administer a sedative, stitch people up, and accurately slice the Achilles’ tendon, those things aren’t just common knowledge.

This makes Vincent the best equipped slasher to help you through any migraine. He’ll scoop you up and carry you to bed making sure the room stays dark and quite. If you want him to stay with you he will, otherwise he will leave you be and just occasionally pop in to check on you. If Bo comes home shouting Vincent will deal with him immediately.

Memorizes all of your migraine triggers and does his best to help you avoid them. While Vincent has sadistic tendencies he never wants to see you in pain. Especially not in so much pain that you fall to the floor and curl up on yourself like that.

Thomas Hewitt

The Hewitt household is always filled with loud noises and commotion. Whether it be screams, yelling, slamming doors, or the sound of a chainsaw there’s always some type of loud noise. But with so much to be done around the house and your need to carry your own weight, you do your best to push through the pain that begins in your head. But as the pain intensifies and the noises around you just continue to grow louder, you fall to the ground.

When Thomas finds you curled in on yourself he panics. Doing his best to be gentle, he picks you up and does the only thing he knows to do. Setting you down on the kitchen table he pulls Luda Mae over to you. His momma is the only person he can think of to help you out. Sure enough, she’s able to assess your migraine quickly and gets Thomas to carry you up to bed and close the curtains to try and block out the sun.

For once in a long time, the house is quite. There is no yelling, no screaming, and definitely no chainsaw. Luda Mae makes sure to keep Hoyt and Monty quiet while Thomas makes sure to not leave your side. The bodies can be dealt with tomorrow no matter how much crap he gets from Hoyt. Right now, Thomas is focused on making sure that you’re okay and fetches you anything that you need.

Brahms Heelshire

It’s no secret that Brahms watches you all day long. Whether he’s glued to your hip or within the walls, you can always feel his eyes on you and Brahms always finds a way to make his presence known. So when your migraine hits an unbearable point and the world begins to sway, you decide to sit on the middle of the floor.

Seeing you suddenly drop to the ground has Brahms panicking from his spot within the walls. You can hear him move around with loud thunks which only causes you to wince and press your hands to your head in an attempt to block out the noise. His whines of concern when he reach you don’t help either and you snap.

Brahms has never seen you snap at him like that but he’s also never seen you hurt like this so he feels very conflicted. Eventually he reasons that for now he can help you so that you’re no longer in pain. But lashing out at him like that is behavior that can’t go unpunished. So all the while he’s helping you and being on his best behavior he’s thinking of all the ways he can punish you when you feel better.

Billy Loomis

Billy isn’t good at taking care of people, half the time he can’t even do a good job of showing he cares. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s still very protective over you though. So when you crumble to the ground at one of Stu’s parties with tears beginning to form in your eyes he immediately grabs you and carries you to an empty room away fro any people.

When you explain to him that it’s a migraine and all the noise and flashing lights are only making it worse he’s immediately getting you in the car and carrying you home, no complaints. Billy refuses to keep you in a place that’s only going to make you feel worse even if he doesn’t know how to help you get rid of your migraine.

Once you make it home he carries you to bed and hands you water and pain killers. After listening to your instructions to hit the lights he crawls into bed beside you. Even after you manage to fall asleep he’s staying up worrying over you. Billy enjoys seeing people hurt, he’s crazy enough to stab his own best friend with no remorse. Even then, he quickly decides that he never wants to see you hurt and does everything he can to prevent that.

Stu Macher

Stu’s not great with empathy, he does a terrible job of reading the room, and he does a bad job of helping other people most of the time. So seeing you curl up on the ground makes him nervous. He knows you have migraines from time to time but usually you’re able to handle them on you’re own. The most you ever get him to do is fetch you water or Tylenol.

He panics as he helps you up off the ground, not knowing what to do with you. He considers carrying you to bed but decides that the couch is much closer. Pulling a blanket off of the back he drapes it over you, making sure to turn off the TV so it doesn’t bother you.

For the first time in his life Stu manages to be quite. Since he can’t ramble though he finds himself fidgeting around, biting at the skin around his nails. Listening to your small groans and whines of pain make him want to do something, anything. Knowing that all he can do is wait makes him feel helpless and useless.

Stu goes out of his way to help you avoid anything that might trigger your migraines. If you get a sever migraine while out in public he will come pick you up so that you dont’ have to drive yourself home. The two of you can worry about your car later, he’s just worried about making you feel better.

Jesse Cromeans

This man has his own medical staff just on standby at all times. Having any sort of severe or chronic migraines is no problem when you’re with Jesse. One phone call and he can find you the best doctor in the whole country.

Seeing you curl into a ball as you sit on the ground has him calling Spann and telling her to clear his schedule for the rest of the day. You are his top priority, he can handle business another day. Even if it was something important he has a whole team of people that are more than capable of handling the situation for the time being. He’ll make sure that you get some rest knowing that a nap usually helps to eradicate your pain.

If he happens to bring you along to one of his warehouses and end up with a migraine though then he begins to get nervous. You’re more likely to be put in danger there, so he’ll be reluctant to bring you along again. Jesse will have you sit in his lap and anyone that barges in yelling about “business affairs” then he’ll quickly get rid of them.

Black out curtains. He knows that the light streaming through the windows can make your migraines so much worse. So he would make sure to have blackout curtains in your bedroom so that no light can get through and you can rest peacefully. Nothing like a dark and quiet room when your head feels like it’s about to explode.

Asa Emory

If this happens while you’re still trapped in his hotel of horror, then you’re just kind of SOL. Asa has cameras in every room so he most definitely knows that you’re in pain. On the bright side the hotel is pretty dark and quiet so there’s not much that will make your migraine worse. Unless Asa decides to torture you by turning on extra bright lights or causing a scene just for some noise to irritate you.

If you’re still in the hotel, but Asa has grown fond of you then he may show some mercy. Sadly that mercy comes in the form simply knocking you out with any method he deems convenient. Lucky you, you wont be hit upside the head because he knows that would just make things worse.

However, if he’s decided to make you his a little house spouse, then he tends to be more gentle. His house is quiet and the dimly lit bedroom is your safe haven whenever your head starts to hurt. If you fall to the ground he’ll carry you to bed. Making sure to remind you how weak and pathetic you are, you wouldn’t be able to do anything without him to take care of you.

[spideyspeaches]

You're worth it ↬p.p

A/N: I'm in my sick feels so here's some sick whiny Peter 😔😔✨💔 also I wrote this at 2 am in like 20 mins lol so rip.

Wc: 1.3k

Warnings: uhh general sickness, Peter being a dramatic lil bitch.

Pairing: college!Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader (with a lot of platonic MJ)

Masterlist

Peter was pretty sure he was dying. No, he wasn't being dramatic.

In all the years of being Spider-Man, he could count on his fingers the number of times he had gotten sick. And it was one.

He remembered when he got bit by the radioactive spider on the field trip to OsCorp, the week later which he spent in bed, sweating on every surface and a fever so high the doctors wondered how his brain hadn't melted yet.

Even when all the resources were exhausted, they couldn't find a cause, and the miraculous recovery with a plus of the sudden appearence of abs and growing biceps had been more of a relief than a dismissal by the doctors, each of them releasing a sigh of relief, neither of them noticing the strange behaviour Peter seemed to be exhibiting when he opened his eyes to the bright, technicolor world after seven days of brutal bouts of vomiting and brain splitting headaches.

So yes, Peter Parker didn't get sick. Not after the fateful spiderbite that made him who he was. Even Dr. Banner had been fascinated by his body chemistry, and if he hadn't been lost in his fangirling that the Bruce Banner wanted to do more check ins of his body, he would have noticed that he could, in fact, get sick. His immune system may have significantly increased, but he was still not entirely immune to college kids germs who wore their underwear inside out to save laundry money.

"You look like a zombie." MJ deadpanned in true MJ fashion, pointing her pen, the bright pink plastic fake diamond a brief distraction from the headache pounding in his skull. It made him go squint eyed, inevitably increasing the headache when he saw past the blurry outline of the diamond.

"Thanks Em, appreciate it." He muttered, raising an eyebrow to look at her smirking face. He suddenly remembered about You. You and MJ had the same smile, he noticed, a lump of misery forming in his throat.

His mood dropped even more when he felt his throat burn with a strong sense of nostalgia. You weren't in college with him due to your job as a full time avenger, so sue him that he really fucking missed you. It's not like you never talked, but his head was killing him and he was really touch starved and college just really fucking sucked.

"I'm not being mean, believe it or not, but you look dead on your feet and your girlfriend will kill me if I bring you in more than one piece." She said, her voice softer than it had been before.

"I'm fine MJ, just do the project." He sighed, looking at his course book, trying to catch the sudden onset of magenta and green lights in his vision. Huh, maybe he was having a stroke.

Rubbing his left eye in frustration, he groaned, throwing his textbook across his room, flopping on the college issued bunk bed that he swore was going to give him back issues before his spidey shenanigans could.

"Y/N won't kill you, she respects you too much for that." He said, fiddling with the threads hanging on his sheets, a hand behind his head as he looked at the ceiling. Chills were starting to set in his bones, and it was not just by MJ's scrutinizing stare.

"You're sick." She stated, smirking as he rolled his eyes, rolling over and burying his face in the cool pillow.

"No shit Sherlock." He huffed, sitting up to take in a breath the pillow was restricting, the lump in his throat growing. And before he knew it, hot tears were rolling down his cheeks, a strange choking sound coming from his throat, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment, and the heat of his fever wasn't making it any better.

"I- I miss y/n so much." He sniffed, his words sound clogged with the mucus stuffed in his sinuses and nose. Wiping a hand across his nose, he choked out a sob, burying his face deeper in his pillow.

"Hey, oh man, hey Parker! Oh god please don't cry, shit ok-" MJ rambled, her shuffling making him cry harder as he whined at the contact of her cool palm, "shit you're burning up! Oh man who do I call who do I call? Of course I'm an idiot."

Her mutters were kind of soothing, but he was too embarrassed to admit that as he brought the pillow closer to him, imagining it was you instead of a stuffed cotten pillow, trying to feel your fingers running through his hair as you repeatedly kissed his forehead.

Sniffling, he blinked hard, watching MJ pace as she talked on the phone with someone, his brain too disoriented trying to get the heat to expel from his body to notice who she was talking to. She looked frantic, her palm over her mouth as her muffled words made his eyes droop, and just like that, he was out like light.

~

"Hey, wake up baby, I came bearing gifts." Your soft voice rose him up from his unrestful slumber, groaning as sudden noises bombarded his ears.

He gave a sigh of relief when he felt a familiar pair of headsets on his ears, the noises quietening. He opened his eyes, slowly at first to see a vague silhouette of you, wondering if this was some kind of fevered dream.

You and Peter face timed a lot, but you rarely visited due to the long drives. You had visited just this weekend, so he was surprised to see you here, his head cushioned on your thigh as your fingers ran over his hair.

"Am I dreamin'?" He croacked, a smile forming on his face as he heard you giggle, warmth spreading in his chest as you leaned in to kiss his forehead.

"No dummy, you just have a temperature high enough to burn Satan." You smirked, booping his nose softly.

"That's pretty hot. I'm so hot." He snickered, turning around to dig his nose into your thigh.

"Yeah, you're the hottest. My hot dum dum." You said. Shifting slightly, he heard the rustling of bottles, immideatly knowing those were his super painkillers Dr. Cho had brewed specifically for his metabolism.

"You didn't have to come all over here baby, did you use your suit?" Peter asked, getting up from his position. Wincing, he cracked his neck, groaning as his body reminded him of his current condition. He felt like a giant bruise, slumping next to you as you wrapped your arm around his shoulder.

"You're worth it Petey. I would go wherever you go." You whispered, brushing his curls back. Getting up, you reached for the filled glass you had kept at the bedside, handing it to him along with the pills. He took them gratefully, gulping the pills and the water down at once.

Leaning on your shoulder, he kissed the exposed skin of your shoulder, rubbing his forehead over there as he thanked you silently, a random chill shooting up his spine, making his muscles spasm.

"Where's MJ?" He muttered, looking at you through his lashes.

"Dunno," you muttered back, "said something about not wanting your germs or something."

"Probably just went to room with Harley. She's got a huge fucking crush on him, just won' admit it." Peter said, smirking from his position.

"Really? I didn't notice!" You snickered, rolling over to squish his cheeks.

"Please, I bet he'll ask her out by the end of this semester."

"This semester? I bet that's gonna happen by the end of this month."

"Bet's on then."

Laughing at the crack oh his voice, you pushed him back lightly by his chest, scratching his sweaty scalp as he sighed under your fingers.

"Y/n?" He asked, holding your fingers to his chest.

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for coming so soon."

"Of course I came dummy."

Smiling at his dimpled face, you wiggled a little to fit next to him, wrapping your hand over his chest and throwing your leg over his.

"Y/n?" He asked again.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

A/N: this is so self indulgent 😋😋 lol. Leave a comment if you liked it! 💞💞

[soulwillower]

crush culture • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: fic where Richie and reader have been best friends since kindergarten, and have always had feelings for eachother secretly, until one day richie gets a girlfriend (just to take his mind off her), and the reader gets jealous and distances herself from him? he obviously gets upset by this- and things go on from there? sorry if it’s too specific! love u!

warnings: swearing, brief mentions of death, fighting, mentions of an abusive relationship, intentionally pissing off richie, a bit of angst, richie is an oblivious idiot, but reader is MUCH more of an idiot, like dude lmao, but i think that’s it, unedited tho

this isn’t rly based off crush culture, but i took the title from conan gray’s song :)  

[losers + reader are 18+ in this!!!]

3.8k words L O L :))

♡

you swear to god, you’re getting sick. that’s what this was, for sure.

it started about a month ago, when you started to get headaches and terrible hollow feelings in your stomach. it happened everywhere - in the line for coffee, in class, driving home from school, at the dinner table. but it got a hundred times worse at night and then seemed to triple in force every morning when you woke.

and it all came at you some time after richie announced he had a new girlfriend.

you were really sick the few days after that, enough that you stayed home from school and laid in bed, the pit in your stomach sinking. it didnt take long for you to realize how bad richie’s girlfriend was - she treated him like a dog, like he embarrassed her - and he didn’t even seem to mind. he just brushed off every offhand comment, rolled his eyes with a grin when she told him she didn’t want to see his friends or when she told him to stop talking. 

he still seemed to like her, anyways. and that thought made your stomach convulse.

so then you had to distance yourself from richie because it hurt you to see him with her. it hurt you to see him with someone who didn’t treat him like the incredible person he was. 

so yeah.

you say you’re sick, but you know that’s not really true. it’s easier than accepting reality at this point, though, so you spew this nonsense (to yourself, mostly) in order to justify ignoring your best friend of nearly a decade because christ, he is becoming unbearable.

like the other day, at lunch while you were all sitting in the courtyard. it was your first time eating with them again after almost a week and a half, as you’d been eating alone in your car recently to avoid richie. “rich, why’d you take off the nail polish?” bev asked, out of the blue, sounding disappointed as she grabbed his free hand and examined it.

he blew smoke out of his mouth slowly and you had forced yourself to look away, the sight of richie doing nearly anything these days being pretty dangerous for you. it also made you sigh a bit - you knew he only smoked at lunch now, since his girlfriend hated it.

“don’t want my paws to be prettier than y/n’s when we hold hands.” he had joked, wagging an eyebrow at you. you’d shook your head and looked to the ground in lew of a real response, just as you had been doing a lot recently.

you'd missed richie’s frown at your reaction, but you did catch his next statement as it was added on, “nah, actually it’s because the ol’ G-F didn’t like it. thought it looked too girly.”

you, stan, bev, and mike all stopped chewing to look at richie, in varying stages of bewilderment. you'd cleared your throat quickly but decided against speaking up just as richie’s phone started to ring. he’d answered it nearly immediately, the enthusiasm of which made you feel like you’re going to be sick again - because richie never answers your calls until the last possible minute.

god, jealousy is a fucking disease.

“hey, sugar.” he had purred suavely into the phone and for some reason, hearing him call someone else sugar had you abruptly rising, gathering your things and nearly running off to put as much distance between you and four-eyes as you possibly could, because you’re not sure how much more you could take.

after that, you were absolutely sure it was just pure denial on your part.

as far as you could tell, richie wasn't noticing too much. he still phoned your house every day, just to be met with your mother telling him you 'weren't available,' and then he'd call your own phone, which you'd let buzz itself into a dark hole on your bedside table while you stared at it solemnly, guilt heavy on your mind as he left voicemail after voicemail. 

he doesn't deserve it, you think as you open the doors to the school library, backpack on your shoulders. but you can't help it. you're not his girlfriend, and you're not mature enough to accept that with any ounce of elegance so instead you just ignore him all together. at least you're self-aware, right? that ought to count for something.

you shake your head just as a voice catches your attention, “well look who decided to show up!”

richie's sitting at the usual study table in the very back corner of the library, a spot tucked away by rows upon rows of dusty books and an alcove of couches. bill sits at the head of the table, scribbling his chicken scratch handwriting onto graph paper, mike next to richie with a textbook spread out flat. across from mike is stan, writing out his statistics work. 

all three of them wave at you before going back to their work, whereas richie just watches you expectantly. his feet are kicked up on the table, textbook balanced on his lap as he hovers on two leg chairs. his smile is as blinding as always, a dimple faint on his left cheek and full eyebrows raised in jest. his curls frame his face perfectly and you want to scream.

but you take your seat next to stan with a tight lipped smile, not really sure how to respond to richie. are you even allowed to be flirty with him like you used to? he still does it on the rare occasions when you do see each other - but that itself is the issue, you figure. his flirting is just a joke, a tiff from one friend to another. but you can't see him as just a friend, and that’s unfair to him.

so you stay quiet, which makes it infinitely more awkward.

richie clears his throat and you pull out your work with an awkward expression, the minutes slowly churning by in what has to be the quietest hangout with the Losers yet.

you feel the tension building in your body and in the air, and you're not sure what's wrong with you or why you have so much resentment towards richie in this moment, because he's not done one single thing to offend anyone in the last ten minutes.

then richie's phone rings suddenly and mike jumps a bit as he's startled out of the passage he's reading. you all look down to richie's screen, where his girlfriend's name blares up at you and all you can feel is white hot jealousy coursing through your body.

richie looks half way exhausted and annoyed at the call, which you find extremely odd and out of character, not to mention persistently frustrating.

as you all stare at the phone, the tension in the room stretches tighter and tighter, like a rubber band and you can't breathe -

"uh, why is she calling you?" mike asks, as if this was something that was forbidden or shocking in any way, and for some reason, that is finally it.

the rubber band snaps.

"how could you forget, mike? they're in love!" you say with mock enthusiasm. 

bill shoots you an alarmed look that you probably should read into or at least consider for a moment, but instead you're looking directly at richie, as if challenging him.

he blinks at you and clenches his jaw, "she and i haven't really been... talking recently." richie says lightly, shooting a glance to mike.

“well then maybe you’re just not right for each other.” you quip, the blood boiling in your veins. richie's eyes snap to you and you see the fire behind them as he suddenly breaks.

“sorry, did i miss the divine intervention when god floated down on a cloud of marshmallows and deemed you expert in relationships?” he says abruptly, making your eyes widen at his outburst. he continues, “because last time i checked, you’re a bit of a failure in that department. so i don't need some jealous, disappearing-act wannabe criticizing my life when she's barely even in it.” he seethes. it’s near quiet in the library anyways, but his words seem to silence the entire town.

with a quick glance to your right, stan and bill sharing an uncomfortable look, and mike is staring down intently at his work with wide eyes.

you want to die.

does richie know? has he known this whole time that you're just deeply, painfully head over heels for him? 

"i'm so sick of your bullshit. maybe you're jealous because you want what i had, but you’re being really fucking rude."

you nearly cry. or scream.

“criticism doesnt equal jealousy, okay?” you spit without thinking, immediately regretting even opening your mouth. you're so intent on covering for yourself, you don't even take into account the phrasing he'd used when referring to his girlfriend, instead fighting with richie in order to keep your secret from him.  

this is not how you’d intended today to go. he stares at you, eyebrows furrowed in a way that almost makes you keel over in sadness, the guilt of the situation falling too heavily on your shoulders and crushing you.

it’s tranquilizing to see him like this -  he's fuming, but he's also got bright, glistening eyes which you think may be filling up with tears.

“i didn’t really ask for your input, though.” he mutters, cheeks reddening as tears definitely well in his eyes behind his lenses. “you can’t just ignore me at your every whim just to come right back and tell me what's good for me.”

you blink, shaking your head quickly, deciding to back off. now is not the time to fight, especially when you know he’s right. you had no idea it was hurting him like this. "richie, i... i just wanted-" you gape at him, extremely embarrassed.

“-i don’t fucking care what you wanted, y/n.” richie says sharply, causing you to shut your mouth so quick your jaw clicks in the silence. clearly, even the other boys are perturbed by richie’s actions and everyone’s staring down in silence at their homework.

it’s quiet like that for a few minutes, the tension so thick that you’d need a jackhammer just to chip away at it. but stan rummages through his bag suddenly, pulling out two painkillers and dry swallowing them. you don't look at anyone else, your stomach hollow and your heart thumping so hard in your chest you think you may explode.

"d-do you have a headache?" bill asks, looking at stan with concern. the sudden voice causes you to perk up, head flowing with humiliation at the fight you and richie had just had in front of your friends.

“yeah, but it’s not that bad. i guess i’m used to it.” stan says, pen between his teeth.

“just because you’re used to something doesn’t make it any less unhealthy for you.” you say louder than necessary, your mouth suddenly deciding to speak without consulting your brain. 

the glare of pure frustration that richie throws you pierces your lungs and suddenly makes you feel lightheaded. 

your pettiness doesn’t go unresponsive, of course, and mike sighs into his hands, standing up to gather his things. "alright. i can't study when you two are like this. i'll see you guys later."

richie sighs quietly and bill and stan mumble good-bye's. the library goes back to quiet for maybe three more minutes, until you see stanley start to fidget like he usually does when he's anxious. and then you notice it after a few seconds, too.

richie won't stop tapping his foot on the desk.

for everyone's sake, you try to ignore it, because you know richie can't help his compulsions - especially when he's upset (which, your mind painfully reminds you, is all your fault).

but it's driving you crazy.

“-if you keep doing that i’ll throw you out that fucking window rich, i swear.” stan mutters not unkindly, his eyes rolling to meet richie with a concerned gaze as richie stares out the window.

you raise your eyebrows, “what’re you even looking at?” you ask, trying to mend a bit of the open, festering wound you’d created in you and richie’s friendship.

without looking at you, richie shrugs. “checking to see how high the drop is. may be worth it to have schnoz just toss me down. it would certainly do you a favor right? gettin ol’ trashmouth gone for good.”

what was he saying? you look at him, scandalized. stan and bill don’t even say anything about the offensive nickname as you gape at richie. "what the fuck?" is all your brilliant mind can think.

"what, you can dish it but you can't take it?" richie says sharply. he shakes his head, looking upset. "i'm tired of trying to be friends with a fucking brick wall."

then he's gathering his one notebook and swiftly exiting your alcove in the library in a wind of cigarettes and cologne. 

you blink, his words sinking in and making you sigh shakily. your stomach feels hollow as you remember the expression of glee on his face when you'd walked into the library, and how completely different and broken he'd looked as he'd left. you think you're going to cry.

“every minute that you don't follow him digs yourself deeper into this grave, you know.” stan says, giving you a stern but encouraging look.

you let out a shaky sigh and scramble to grab your bag, tripping over your feet as you run out of the library, flying down the staircase faster than you've ever gone and making it to your lifelong best friend just as he reaches his car in the parking lot.

"-a brick wall?" you ask, out of breath. you see richie hold back an eye roll, his arms crossing over each other as he serves you a look of discomposure.

he shrugs helplessly, looking as if he's at his wit's end.

"what do you want me to say, y/n? you've been avoiding me for weeks. i know i'm annoying and obnoxious and whatever, but i'm not blind." he says, making you swallow as guilt pangs through your chest. you have been so fucking selfish, haven't you?

it hurts to hear him say that about himself. 

he sniffles a bit, sounding choked up as he goes on, "i've had a rough couple of days - weeks, even. but every time i'm near, it's like you've had more than enough, and you just leave. am i that repulsive? why do you suddenly hate me?" he asks, looking desperate as his eyes rim red, filling with tears again.

“what did i do?” his voice cracks as he whispers the sentence and your heart breaks in two.

your own vision goes glassy as he continues, "-i've needed you, y/n/n. i'm lost, i'm seriously not okay and you just don't care at all."

you're stunned for a moment, mouth opening and closing silently as your mind races to rush something out, anything,because you aren't sure you can bear to see richie look at you like this for one more second. but your silence comes off wrong to richie, and tears slip out of his eyes.

“don’t you love me?” he asks, voice hoarse and cutting right through you, deeper than any knife ever could. "don't you want me to be happy?" he adds and you take a shaky breath, looking helplessly at him, where you're met with nothing but glassy eyes and tear trails. your heart is slamming in your chest, tears falling from your eyes and you can't breathe.

"a-are you?" you ask, trying to keep your tone even although it comes out just as vulnerable as you feel. “h-happy. with her?”

richie freezes at your words, mouth slightly open and you watch a single tear course over his high cheekbones and down to his bottom lip as it shakes faintly. you curse yourself for the longing to feel those very lips against yours.

"i was." he whispers, voice shaking as he rubs his face with his hand under his glasses, the moisture of his fallen tears clinging from his long dark lashes onto his slender, shaking fingers. "and then - and then i lost you. and y'know, i got my girlfriend so i could distract myself, but she made me feel like absolute shit all the time and so i went and broke up with her, but -" he hiccups through his tears and you blink, biting your lip as tears cascade down your cheek in wet trails.

they broke up?

he broke up with her, and he's going through this breakup and trying to better himself after she tore him down and you've just been ignoring him - he thinks you don't care about him, that you don't love him. you start to cry harder. 

"-i thought she'd distract me from you. i-i'm sorry." he says, his voice muffled by his hands as they cover up his angelic face, his shoulders shaking as more tears fall. "i'm so sorry."he repeats. 

you see double for a second, completely shocked by his words as the breath leaves your lungs. he tried to distract himself from you... and he’s so hurt because of what you did. 

but finally, for the first time this whole damn day, you find the right words. "i-no, richie, i'm sorry, please - fuck." you break, letting out a sob as you rub your eyes furiously in search of any relief from the guilt ripping you in two. "i didn't mean to hurt you. i'm so sorry, i can't believe i did this, i didn't want to hurt you, i'm just so selfish." you babble, his sniffles making you open your eyes.

he looks so alone and so vulnerable as he hugs his arms around himself in search of comfort, tears still falling from his bright eyes and down his rosy cheeks. 

he looks devastatingly beautiful in the golden sunlight of the afternoon, a breeze ruffling his curls lightly. "just please, i can't - i can't deal with you hating me. please, please, please."

he's pleading with you and you think you may be sick from the guilt and sadness that envelopes you, so you spring forward and wrap your arms tightly around him. the force of your body pushes him against the side of his car and the way he clings back to you like you're the last thing holding him to earth just makes you cry even harder.

"i don't hate you, richie. i love you, i love you too much." you say, your body shaking as he just holds you tighter against him. "i'm so sorry, i didn't mean any of it. you're right. i was just jealous... i'm so sorry. i was so jealous of her, i couldn't see you be with her." you mumble. "i'm so sorry."

richie pulls you back gently at your words, his eyes wide and wondering as you look at each other. "what?" he asks so innocently, his eyelashes wet and dark and his lips parted. 

you can count the freckles on his nose and cheeks, you're so close. you can feel his shuddering breath against your face as he huffs in a breath. your hands hold onto his shoulders and you decide to fuck it, you just have to tell him how sorry you are, to explain yourself.

"richie, i'm in love with you. and - and when you and her got together, it hurt so much, and i didn't want to deal with the fact that i couldn't have you, so i just ignored you. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry." you say it quickly and in one breath, looking down at your shoes and how they point straight towards his.

"you're in... love with me?" he says weakly, sounding hopeful as you finally look back into his eyes guiltily. 

you laugh wetly, "of course i am, richie. how could i not fall head over heels for everything about you?"

he tears up again at your words, but this time it's accompanied by a beautiful smile and a light, wet laugh. he shakes his head, his arms circling your waist tighter as he presses his forehead against yours. your butterflies tickle your stomach at your proximity.

"fuck, y/n. i can't believe i spend my time trying to get my mind off you." he says and your breath hitches a bit. "do you have any idea how long i've been in love with you?" he asks quietly, and you let out another small laugh out of shock, but it's wet and gleeful.

"i'm sorry." you whisper, your finger curling around a strand of the dark hair on his head. he shakes his head, your noses rubbing slightly. "it's okay, y/n. i love you so much. please let me forgive you." he says, pulling a smile out of you that you don't think anybody else ever could. you nod shortly, looking into his eyes as one last tear falls. 

he kisses you tenderly then, taking your breath away.

richie fills up your every sense as he clings to you desperately, his lips salty from your combined tears and his arms strong. his tongue is gentle as it runs along your lips and enters your parted mouth, one of his hands sliding up to tilt your head up towards him. you're breathless because of him for the millionth time in your life and you decide kissing richie is the only thing you want to do forever. 

you pull away slowly, and as you lean back he presses a chaste second kiss to your lips, causing you to grin. 

you barely make eye contact as you pull apart and then you greedily pull him back to you, his lips finding yours yet again with a sweet, loving laugh.

"i love you too, rich." you mumble against his lips. he sighs almost dreamily as you pull back, biting your lip and laughing when he opens the passenger door, gesturing to it with a shy grin.

"now can i please buy you a burger?" he asks, almost bashfully, and your heart does somersaults. you nod and kiss him again, his hand falling to the small of your back, palm wide and fingers lower than you'd expected. he pulls away and his grin is loving, his eyes hooded in pride as you caress his cheek softly before you slide into the car seat.

he holds your hand the whole night and refuses to let go until you slip through your front door at near midnight, blushes on both of your cheeks and lips kiss-bruised.

the butterflies you feel as you fall asleep with a grin on your face are the exact same ones richie feels as his head finally hits the pillow, a giddy smile on his own face as he smiles to himself in the dark halfway across town.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx@brxken-heartsclub @clownsloveyou @baby-yoda-a @moon-shine-baby  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman @kait-tozier   @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s  @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters

[nikkigrand]

There’s no easy way to say this, but I’m abandoning all of my works. Everything.

This post is going to be long, honest, triggering and deeply personal. So for those who don’t want to read through all of my bullshit, the gist is that I’m not emotionally or mentally capable of writing anymore.

TW ARE IN PLACE.

If you’ve followed me for a while, then you know that my boyfriend was killed in Afghanistan last year. Since then, my life has been a breathless decline into self destruction. I didn’t know—I still don’t know—how to recover from happily waiting for his return to painfully knowing he never will. I swear that some days I feel like he’s still out there and some day he’ll come home and this will all be just a bad dream. I want to wake up to a reality where he steps off that plane and into my arms, where I don’t keep a crumpled old t shirt that smells more of me than him under my pillow, where the shock of hearing certain songs doesn’t make me throw up. A reality where I don’t have to sit in front of his ashes every time I visit his mother and look at his singed necklace around her neck.

I wanted nothing more than to wake up. Just wake the fuck up and feel alive again because for so long I had felt this choking pain and grief and misery and then nothing.

Everything became an escape, something to fill that void in me. I tried all the healthy things. I ate, I worked out, I ran. I talked to people about how I felt and reached out, but nothing helped. I volunteered, i planted trees and flowers, I channeled my grief into kindness. I tried to take all this pain and turn it into something beautiful, and still I felt nothing. I was falling falling falling into this black pit and was reaching for anything to keep me from hitting the bottom.

So I started chasing highs. The standard shit at first. I drank so much alcohol that I’d wake up in bushes with my friends, limbs tangled in ways that left me sore and stinging for days because who the hell passes out in a Rose bush?

At first, drinking was fucking hell, because no matter how much I drank I’d always end up with my head cradled in the palms of my hands, fingers digging into my scalp as I screamed and wailed and asked why why why why when he was so close to coming home and why was life so goddamn mean??? I’d be in bar bathrooms, just curled in the corner and sobbing like a dramatic princess until my friends carried me out. This happened about a dozen times before it just stopped, because I figured I wasn’t drinking enough if I could remember everything.

So I drank more and more and more and then I realized that it wasn’t making me feel better, it wasn’t doing anything for me.

So I started smoking. Just weed, you know. Nothing too crazy at the time. But all that did was make me hyper-fixate on all of my failures and short comings. It made me hate myself so viscerally, so deeply that I wondered if this is who I truly am at my core. A mean bitch who drinks, smokes, parties. A maneater who fucks these poor kind hearted men to fill that hole her dead man left inside her and still finds herself cold and numb after because it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

I’m sure you know where this is going. But I hated myself. I’m a beautiful girl, I’m not blind, and yet I found myself to be so fucking ugly. So fucking ugly and grey and all I wanted—all I needed—was something to breathe life into me the way life itself did before.

I just wanted to feel happy and normal. Only for a little while. That need was so encompassing it would grip my insides and I’d cry from how much I wanted it, how much I had convinced myself I needed it. It was all I fucking wanted.

So the bumps came. And then the lines. And then whole baggies to myself. And it felt amazing, it was wonderful. The world was alive, things were different. I had more energy, more life in me than I had in months. Then the other type of lines came and it made me feel like I was floating away. There was no pain, no misery, no death hanging over my shoulder to remind me that the strength of your love can’t make people stay.

But soon, that too wasn’t enough. Like every other thing, I felt there was something better, something that could make me feel more. So here is where I tell you about all the pills I popped, all the different colored presses and how each one pulled me out of that hole I was falling into and deposited me above the ground —much higher than I could have ever dreamed of—and filled my grey world with beautiful gorgeous colors.

Then I can tell you about all the tabs I let dissolve on my tongue, or fully swallowed out of impatience, all of the lines of ketamine I combined with ecstasy and acid in one night. The things I saw, the way I felt—it took me far from this dismal life and was addicting. I was chasing something every weekend until it became every other day, chasing some feeling I still can’t name, and I knew that it was ruining me.

My grief and my drugs were killing me, and I knew it. With every cotton mouth, every clenched jaw, every pounding headache, I fucking knew and didn’t care. I’d look at my friends faces and I knew, I knew they loved me and would be devastated if they knew what I was doing, and I still didn’t care. What was life if it felt this empty?

My grades dropped, i turned down a contracting job I wanted for years, I spent all my money on psychedelics and stimulants, and it had gotten to a point where I’d pop a pill while sitting at home just because I didn’t want to be sober and didn’t want to think about how fucked up my life was becoming.

Then one day I was at a concert, high in the clouds with a joint settled comfortably between my lips and frizzy hair piled messily atop my head, when I saw a girl get carried out the venue by medics. She was probably a few years younger than I am, and i remember looking at her face impassively as they pushed through the crowd with her body thrown over this bear of a man’s shoulder as if in slow motion. She was pale and foaming at the mouth, with her arms dangling limply down his back, and she looked dead—she was dead. I knew in that same way you know that the sky is blue when the sun is up, I just knew.

And in that moment—those few seconds it took me to acknowledge that she had most likely overdosed and died—this intense yearning shot through me, so strong that I felt it in the crooks of my fucking elbows, like I wanted to embrace whatever the fuck it was that I desired to live inside me, and this voice cried out, “I wish that were me.”

And you know what, I didn’t even know I had spoken until the guy next to me shoved me in the shoulder and said, “no you don’t.”

And that terrified me. I remember dropping the joint, fumbling it in my shaking fingers, burning myself on the lit end, before handing it off to that same random guy and running off to get some air.

I’m not stupid and I’m not blind. I know I’m depressed, I know I’ve got issues, but I had never said something so suicidal out loud up until that point. I’ve never vocally wished for death and even as I sat there, as I looked out at the people outside the venue huddled together doing whip it’s and killing brain cells, I still wanted to be that poor dead girl on that man’s shoulders.

That was it for me. I remember calling an Uber home on the spot and taking everything I had and flushing it. Im not going to sit here and lie to you and tell you that it was easy. I had convinced myself that I needed these things to make me happy, and i don’t know if I can ever see life the same way after them. The feelings you get off these things are otherworldly, it’s so damn good, but they come at a price. You dont feel the same way you did before you took them, and you never will. You’ll never be who you were before that high, but you can almost convince yourself that it’s worth it. So it was pretty damn hard to take my neon presses, my rocks. my capsules, my bud and my tabs, and flush them down the toilet.

Almost immediately after I did it, I cried. Mostly because i had flushed hundreds of dollars down the fucking toilet, but also because I had become that girl in those cheesy college movies. You know the one, the one where the party girl gets addicted to drugs and goes on a bender and her whole life is just one big goddamn tragedy that won’t end. I hate those fucking movies and I, for the life of me, could not believe I was that girl.

I had been military, straight laced with a good head on my shoulders and a hard worker. I was smart, respected, the girl everyone wanted to bring home to mom. And now I was a hot mess crying in my bathroom because I had just flushed my addiction down the shitter.

Now I’m just home, trying to gather the pieces of myself in a way that doesn’t cause long term damage when I’ve yet to hit my 27th birthday.

I still go out with my friends. They know nothing about what I’ve done because I’ve always gone out and done things alone. This is the first time I’ve ever spilled my guts.

So where does FanFiction come into play in all this. Well, it’s simple, really, if you’ve gotten to this point and picked out all the mistakes in grammar. My brain is so fucked up that I can barely write a passable 3 page essay. I can’t remember words, much less how to string them together to form something beautiful in the way I used to. Trust me, it kills me and I’ve agonized over it for hours. I once tried to take this amazing idea I had and put it to paper but it would just not flow. Nothing made sense. Where before writing was effortless and focused, now my brain could barely concentrate on forming a sentence that didn’t sound like gibberish.

My attention span is so short that I literally have to isolate myself with no internet and my textbooks to get work done. It’s so bad that I have anxiety and panic attacks about the fact that I feel like a whole dumbass with one brain cell, where before I was proud of my intelligence and could hold decent conversation.

I’m still pretty, as if that fucking matters, but now I’ve got a stutter and can’t hold eye contact because my paranoia makes me think they’re judging me. And let me tell you, I’m so fucking pissed about that because I know it’s just my fried brain thinking these things, and there’s no one to blame but myself.

And I still feel empty and numb. How can I write about love and human emotions when I don’t feel anything? How can I write about looking at someone and loving them when the memory of love faded like my lover’s ashes in the wind? I just can’t.

I know love as it whispers against my skin with each interaction between me, friends, even other men, and yet I look at them and feel absolutely nothing.

So Yeah, I can’t write my stories if I can’t get my brain or my heart to work.

I’m really sorry to all my loyal readers. I really am. I wish I had been stronger. Thank you for all of your support throughout the years.

Don’t do drugs.

[beyondconfessor]

Principle Decisions [8/24]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lilith/Zelda Spellman

Summary: It’d been over eight days since she’d seen Lilith, and her eyes had wandered over the therapist’s card twice before she managed to throw it out in recycling. 

N.B.: Also posted on AO3. This is pure fantasy, please suspend your disbelief. Double chapter to be released today :)

Zelda tapped her pen, listening to the meeting drone on as Faustus flicked through his PowerPoint presentation. She hardly cared, outside of somehow managing to volunteer to complete the meeting minutes, only because Constance had turned and looked over at her with big, pleading eyes.

Unlike with Shirley, Zelda respected Constance. Somehow she managed to juggle all of her classes, run the University’s choir and look after her twins.

Both of the twins were being cared for by an au pair at the moment, and with the thought of them, Zelda felt an ache in her chest before she snuffed the memory down. It wouldn’t do well to dwell on things that had long-since occurred.

Her chest still hurt. It seemed to ache over the last week constantly. Even Sabrina had withdrawn from biting comments to just tentatively asking if she wanted a cup of tea.

“––ay my thanks to Zelda for covering Shirley’s classes. As we all know, Shirley has been caring for her dying mother.”

Zelda blinked. She’d thought it was a dying friend? Perhaps she’d been unreasonably cruel towards her then.

No, despite how hard that must be, Shirley was still a raging cow.

“And Zelda has kindly taken over her classes to ease the transition.” There was a polite clap, and Zelda smiled tightly, fingers squeezing around her pen. Although the praise was well deserved, the half-hearted clap from the staff ( though she noticed that Constance’s was genuine) was enough to set her teeth on edge.

Perhaps she was just reading into it. It had been a long presentation, and a longer week, if she was honest.

It’d been over eight days since she’d seen Lilith, and her eyes had wandered over the therapist’s card twice before she managed to throw it out in recycling. She’d felt guilty for her attitude at the end of the session, but the truth was, the woman had overstepped her authority.

What had it mattered if she wanted to press her boundaries, request harder and harder strikes until she was a sobbing mess? As she understood it, it was her services she was paying for. She could ask for whatever she damned like.

The pen made a hole in on the page she was on. Flipping the page over, she began fresh as Faustus enquired if there was anything else on the meeting agenda. Zelda listened as a few members of the faculty enquired as to funding changes that were meant to be released, on top of the request for TAs and GAs, but the discussion was quickly shut down, leaving them to adjourn the meeting.

Tea and coffee were laid out, and the faculty began chatting with one another about the coming end of the semester. As Zelda made her way to the cups, she noticed Constance moving to stand next to her. “Faustus is running another program next year,” she advised, setting the biscuits onto her plate. “I…understand Prudence is looking to be a front runner?”

“I’m not certain,” Zelda said, “But she has the highest marks in my class so that I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“She requested to be your TA, didn’t she?” Constance enquired.

“She did,” Zelda agreed, curious to the sudden line of questioning. “Was something the matter?”

“Do you know much about her?” Constance asked. “Faustus has her in his class and was enamoured by her––until the most recent semester, and now he seems to grow tense at the very mention of her.”

Zelda paused, “Constance, what are you getting at?”

“I’ve never known him to provide such extensive funding for a TA in this department before. Have you?”

Zelda’s eyes narrowed, looking over her shoulder to where the head of the department stood with some of the other professors, laughing over a joke. “Are you implying that he might be having an…affair?” she asked, whispering the word low so no one would overhear.

“No, no. I’m not saying that, not without proof. He’s just…been so distant since the birth of the twins. He’s a proud father…but since the summer holidays, he seems so far away, all of the time. Especially around Leticia, and I just wondered if he was feeling guilty over something.” Constance paused then, embarrassment colouring her cheeks as she stirred sugar into her tea. “Don’t mind me. I’m exhausted. Even with the nanny helping out, the twins take up so much time.”

It was a flippant addition, Zelda could see the root of the issue clear on Constance’s face. She was lonely and certain that her husband was withdrawing because he found someone else.

“I remember how difficult it was with Sabrina. Having two children who need your attention on top of your own work must be difficult to balance. Perhaps you need to find time for yourself?” she suggested. “Have a weekend away?”

Constance nodded in agreement. “You’re right, and I’m just making something out of nothing.” Constance drew in a deep breath and gave a tight smile. “But if you were to see anything…”

“I assure you, I’ll let you know,” she agreed with a nod. “But Faustus has always been devout to you.”

Constance gave a tight smile but didn’t speak any further.

It did leave Zelda with the seed planted in her mind. Although she’d never known Prudence or Faustus to interact, it wasn’t to say that they didn’t. After all, Faustus was their department head, which included overseeing things such as applicants for scholarships. As Zelda understood, Prudence was on a scholarship that covered her classes, textbooks and board while she was here.

She didn’t want to think the worst, but it wouldn’t be the first time that there were rumours of professor-student dalliances across campus. She’d just hoped that Faustus had been above that.

Zelda drew her thoughts away from it as she felt a headache form.

She returned home that evening sore, the muscles in her neck and shoulders felt tight, which was causing a headache to form behind her eyes as she entered her home to the sound of loud arguing.

“––fault! It’s not like…” Sabrina’s voice drifted off as the door opened and Zelda looked up to see her on the stairs, yelling down at Hilda, who was standing in the foyer.

Wonderful.

“What is going on here?” she asked, looking from Sabrina’s tight, furious expression to a baffled Hilda.

Hilda turned on her heel and began stuttering out utter gibberish before she ended up dropping her hands with a shake of her head. Zelda turned and looked to Sabrina, eyes drawing over her for a clue. Her niece was still in her cheerleading clothes, and had her bag slung over her shoulder as she stood defiantly on the stairs, but whatever it related to remained a mystery.

“Nothing,” Sabrina said tightly, giving her Aunt Hilda what looked like a warning before walking up the rest of the stairs and disappearing to her bedroom.

Zelda paused, before looking back to a sister with a sneaky feeling that this was somehow about her again. She wasn’t aware of any charity events, outside of Sabrina’s community service that was completed on the weekends.

Hilda shook her head. “She brought a letter home. Apparently, she’s failing french. She didn’t want me to tell you because she knew that you’d blow-up at her.”

“Blow up at her?” Zelda echoed. “What a preposterous idea. It is, however, a sign that she needs to focus more on her school. I mean, how could she fail french?” Zelda asked. “I speak over a dozen languages for Christ’s sake. Perhaps she’s spending too much time with this cheerleading thing?”

Hilda frowned, looking at Zelda like she was trying to bite back from saying something nasty.

“Spit it out.”

“It’s not like you're there to help her with homework. You just sort of expect she’ll have the same aptitude as you and Edward. Maybe she doesn’t care for language, and there’s nothing wrong with that. She’s doing well with almost all of her other classes.”

“Nonsense. It’s not that difficult, and once she learns one language, it’ll be far easier for her to pick up other languages.” Zelda stated. “Not to mention the college benefits it will bring. Sabrina’s got a talent for many things, but I hardly think she’s going to get a scholarship for cheerleading. It’d be better if she pursued an academic scholarship.”

“She could get it for cheerleading,” Hilda argued. “She’s pretty good.”

“Honestly Hilda,” Zelda said, giving her a look as she passed by. It was like her sister had no idea how the real world worked. Sure, if Sabrina wanted to attend some community college, she could put all of her eggs in cheerleading. Realistically, she needed to focus her attention on school.

Heading to her office, Zelda set her stuff down on the desk. She heard the sound of Hilda turning to the kitchen and starting dinner as she pulled out her computer––newly repaired but at the cost of losing all of the academic journals she’d downloaded––and began the administration work for her classes, placing their grades up to be viewed by midnight.

No doubt, she’d have a dozen emails by morning, begging her to allow a re-do of the assessment or to complete extra credit. Still, with how thinly spread she was between classes, she didn’t have time to oversee any of that, and she doubted Prudence would want to review any of it.

She was halfway through uploading her first year’s marks when Hilda knocked on the doorframe of her office, summoning her to dinner.

“I’ll be right out.”

“Zelda,” her sister warned.

Zelda drew in a tight breath before pausing, pushing up from her desk and following her sister out. She took her seat at the table and gave a soft greeting to Ambrose before noticing that Sabrina still hadn’t come down.

Zelda watched as Hilda gave a glare up the higher floor before serving the food, sitting them one-by-one in front of Zelda, Ambrose, the seat where Sabrina usually sat, and then herself.

When it looked like Hilda was about to sit down, Zelda rose from her chair. “I’ll call Sabrina down, shall I?” she asked tightly, not giving her sister time to speak to her as she walked out of the kitchen. If she had to interrupt her work to come to a family dinner, then by God, her niece needed to attend as well, despite her sour mood.

She rose the flight of stairs, down the hall and then knocked on Sabrina’s door, where she heard an odd noise of shuffling before her niece opened the bedroom door, crossing her arms defiantly. “Yes?”

Zelda blinked. Once upon a time, her niece would receive compliments from her teachers about being well-mannered and polite. ‘A delight to have in the classroom’. Zelda’s eyes narrowed at the disrespect. “I beg your pardon?”

“Beg all you like then,” her niece responded. “I’m not coming down. I have work to do. I already know that you’re going to cut my allowance and refuse to let me see my friends, so why should I come to sit at dinner where you and Aunt Hilda are just going to get into an argument over this.”

Zelda drew in a deep breath, trying to quell the rising anger. “Sabrina,” she began with a steady voice. “Family dinner is something we do as a family. I am asking you to come down and sit with us.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re a family, and we share meals.”

“How can we be a family when you’re never here,” Sabrina pointed out. “And in the few times, you are home you’re always in your office.”

“That’s why we have family dinners.”

“You don’t even take me to and from school anymore, Harvey does! It’s like you don’t care, so as long as I’m doing well at school. The only time you took an interest was when I got into trouble for that fight. Otherwise, you’re too busy to do anything!” Sabrina snapped, her eyes welling up with tears. “You don’t care what I have to say, or what I do so as long as I’m not failing or in trouble.”

Zelda felt her heart clench. “Is that how you feel? That I don’t care?”

“Do you?”

“Do you think I’m working twelve hours a day, six days a week because I want to? I’m doing it because I have a job that’s putting food on the table and paying for the roof over your head. I am working to pay for your education and your extracurricular activities, or did you forget who paid for your cheerleading uniform? It doesn’t come for free, Sabrina. I work to give provide for our family.”

“We have an inheritance. You don’t need to work this hard!”

Zelda laughed, absolutely stunned by her nieces' words. “How much money do you think we have? We could not live off the money for all these years, and yes while it is more than most families have, all of that goes very fast if anything were to happen to your Aunt Hilda or I.” She took a breath, watching her niece scramble for a retort. “What this has shown me is that you have no idea how money works. Consider this me cutting you off. If you want to go out with your friends and see movies together or pay for school excursions, you need to pay for it yourself. I expect you to get a job by the time the winter holidays come.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I can and will,” Zelda said with a glare. “I think it’s time you learnt some financial responsibility.” Zelda turned quirked an eyebrow, watching as Sabrina’s cheeks turned pink with fury.

“I’m not coming to dinner,” she said.

“Fine. But don’t expect the food to be there when you do get hungry. If you want food, you will sit with your family.”

Turning on her heel, she walked away. The door slammed shut behind her, and Zelda considered walking back and having the door removed.

But no, that was not something she felt was fair. Sabrina had been slamming doors since she was toddler, it was an offence she would continue to look past and treat like it was. A toddler throwing a tantrum, and as such, needing to be ignored.

Fury bubbling inside of her. Sabrina’s insolence had gone too far this time. It was clear she needed to be firm and set a tone. If her niece was going to make wild accusations about her not being family, and not needing money, then she could find out for herself how difficult it was when you didn’t have money.

Zelda returned to the kitchen, sitting at the table where Ambrose and Hilda both sat awkwardly across from each other, their food untouched before them.

“Is Sabrina coming down for––?” Hilda began

“Does it appear that she’s coming down? Or did the slammed door perhaps lead you to believe that our interactions were peaceful, sister?”

Hilda’s jaw slammed shut, as Ambrose began to stare down at his food, hands in his lap. Zelda rolled her eyes, picking up her fork and knife and began cutting into the food. If an uncomfortable silence was what dinner would involve, so be it.

All she’d wanted was a family dinner, and now she had anger sitting like a stone in her stomach, burning its way through any enjoyment she could have.

Perhaps she’s snapped too tightly at Hilda, but honestly, it seemed like her sister left her to be the bad person constantly. She was left saying no to Sabrina, drawing lines in the sand whilst Hilda would dally around niceties.

“I’ve decided that Sabrina needs to learn the value of money,” she said. “We will no longer be funding her extracurricular activities, nor her outings. If she wishes to spend copious amounts of money on clothes and dates, she can earn money through handwork, as we did.”

“Well, we hardly worked while we were in school. Father only made us work through holidays.”

Zelda placed her knife and fork down, taking the napkin she cleaned her fingers and face and then looked to her sister. “Perhaps you did not, but Edward and I both worked at the school. Edward worked with the librarian if you recall. And I assisted Mr Rutherglen.”

“‘Assisted’,” Hilda said, making air quotes. Zelda stared at her. Where on earth had such disrespect risen from today? Sabrina was one thing, but Hilda?

“Did you have something you wanted to say, or did you prefer making veiled comments?”

“Just that…we all knew…” she said trailing off. “That you and Mr Rutherglen, you know?” she implied as if Ambrose wasn’t well aware in the ways of implication.

“That we were what?” Zelda asked because the anger was curling inside of her, and if Hilda continued to dance around the words, she was going to slap her.

“Sleeping together, sister. Not that it mattered. I mean, in retrospect it was absolutely horrible to form his part, he was over a decade older than you, but it’s not at all your fault, just that obviously he…paid for––“

“He certainly did not!” Zelda snapped. “We were not, as you say, sleeping together.”

“Zelds, it’s fine. It was decades ago now, and Edward saw—“

“I have no idea what he thought he saw, but we were not sleeping together. For Christ’s sake, he was married, Hilda. With a daughter.”

“Because we know that’s stopped a man before,” she said, commenting out of the side of her mouth. “Look, if you say nothing occurred then fine, I believe you.”

“You do not. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said a damned thing,” Zelda snapped before taking a breath, feeling a wave of dizziness struck her. “Rutherglen took an interest in me due to my language aptitude. Never had anything sexual passed. He often remarked how he hoped his daughter would grow up to be like me.” Zelda felt her chest tighten, thinking on it.

She hated how Hilda was trying to taint the memory of one of the few teachers who had taken an earnest interest in her for no reason other than to mentor her into a path of her choosing. She couldn’t imagine why Edward would have thought they were sleeping together. He’d always been sure to keep a professional distance with her.

Except once. When she’d been crying about––

Zelda paused the thoughts and pushed them away. It didn’t matter. There had been from so long ago, and Edward was dead.

Not finishing her dinner, she set the napkin down on the plate and stood up, walking away. Nausea settled in her stomach. Had Edward truly thought that of her––Hilda had, easily. Is that what was to them? A girl who slept with her teachers for money and extra credit?

She returned to her office, pulling the door tightly shut behind her and sat at her computer, feeling the hollowness consume her.

Why did it matter what a dead brother thought of her? Of what a sister who earned minimum wage cared? It was nothing new. Certainly, others had thought it of her. Throughout her undergraduates years, she’d had similar rumours thrown about her. It shouldn’t matter.

It didn’t matter.

She continued to upload the grades, feeling the numbness of the task take hold until she came to the last one, realising that it was all done and nearly midnight.

Exhaustion pulled at her and then Zelda was making her way to bed, clicking lights off behind her and making her way up the stairs. Hilda’s light was off, Sabrina’s light was off, Ambrose’s light was on, but that wasn’t unusual––at least his music was off.

She changed into her pyjamas, completed her night skincare routine despite the exhaustion pulling at her, and then climbed into bed. But despite the exhaustion itching at her eyes in the darkness as she clicked off the lamp, her mind buzzed as she traced over old conversations between Edward and Hilda.

Did the university think the same thing? Did Shirley whisper amongst the staff, behind her back, gossiping about how she slept her way into position?

Zelda stared into the darkness, feeling the discomfort creep over her. It seemed that the more she had tried to grow as an adult, shape herself into something of sophistication, the more people were determined to think that she was just some wanton hussy.

Perhaps they always would. Perhaps there was nothing after this.

Thunder seemed to roll outside, threatening a great storm.

She drifted into a restless sleep.

_______________

[finding-hope-strength-courage]

My Life With Anxiety #1 - 05/01/2021

*Warning Long Post!

Tonight I thought I’d write a post about my experience with anxiety during my life. This is obviously only my experience and anxiety is different for all who suffer with it.

It’s difficult to say when I began suffering with anxiety because I probably didn’t even know what it was or recognise the feelings I was having were caused by anxiety. As a young child - pre secondary school I don’t remember worrying particularly day to day but I think there were some signs if I was to try and really dig deep.

Something I do recall from being a young child was I did develop a fear of people dying from a young age after losing my mum. I’m unsure of my exact age but it would have been between the ages of 6-11 because my Granny sadly died shortly after my 11th birthday. I remember during the night if I woke and needed to go to the toilet on my way back I would stop for a few seconds and make sure I could hear my Granny breathing in her bed. I mean it sounds bizarre in my head now because I’m not actually sure what prompted this behaviour but I guess I felt I needed to check she was okay before I went back sleep - I never told her I did this. I guess you could say this is a form of anxiety - I was worried about something happening to her and clearly felt some responsibility for making sure she was okay.

Of course these behaviours don’t appear all that strange given my early life experiences. My experiences told me that people I love died and so I clearly knew this could happen. As I got older I’d say I maybe became more concerns with friendships and hated falling out with people or upsetting them. This was definitely true during secondary school and actually has never really changed as still to this day I worry far too much in case I’ve said something wrong or upset anyone! When there were friendship dilemmas between people I hated feeling like I needed to take a side (if it wasn’t me that was part of the fall out of course). I just wanted to please everyone and stay friends. This was difficult and so often I’d just remove myself from the situation and spend time alone - I’d sit somewhere alone and listen to music or go to the school library and do homework instead. This was better than conflict for me.

I did develop some anxiety around exams during school but this only really became noticable at the end of Year 10 I’d say. I think because there was extra pressure of GCSE coursework too it just got on top of me. I usually managed to get through the exams and actually would do better than I thought I had anyway! I always came out of any exam saying I’d done rubbish or probably failed, even if I thought I may have done okay (which wasn’t often). It was easier to tell myself I hadn’t done well because then if I hadn’t I wouldn’t be as disappointed. I got through my GCSEs and A Levels at school and did well for me, I mean I was never a straight A student but I put all my effort into revising and working hard. So I did well for me and got the grades I needed. I always found it frustrating that there were people who didn’t appear to work that hard but would still do so well. If I hadn’t have worked as hard as I did I’d have failed most subjects.

It’s difficult to talk about my anxiety without mentioned my OCD but I do want to write about this in a separate post because obviously it’s an anxiety disorder but I feel like I have general anxiety and OCD so they manifest in different ways and different times in my life. I first noticed OCD tendencies when I went to University. I became obsessed with worrying about leaving the light on in my room or making sure I’d locked the door. I would film myself turning out the lights and locking the door when I went home for the weekend so I could check if I was worried. I also was so worried about people leaving the hob on in the shared kitchen that when I knew they’d all gone out or to their rooms I’d go in and check. I’ll probably write about my struggles with OCD another time but feel it makes sense to mention it here because during that year at University that my Dad sadly and suddenly died.

I would say my Dad’s death was probably the event in my life that really set my anxiety off because although it was clearly there beforehand in various ways and the emergence of some OCD traits too, it was almost still under the surface and fairly manageable I’d say. After my Dad’s death I just felt anxious full stop, I think the suddenness of it all was just so scary and then the emptiness that he’d just gone. I’d always known people to get ill and die but because it just happened with no warning it just made realise that anything can happen in life. Obviously it taught me some good lessons too like how short life is and to make the most of every day etc and I do try to always do that regardless of my own struggles.

The months that followed my Dad’s death are difficult to remember that clearly now but I remember just feeling a bit lost and scared. It’s hard to explain now as it’s been nearly 10 years but I was just so worried. As the years went by I became more anxious of most things in life to be honest, but it didn’t actually stop me doing them. As in I managed to keep living and doing the things I enjoyed but just feeling anxious about them too. I studied for my degree with The Open University in the 3 years that followed my Dad’s death and this was brilliant for me. I had a hard time adjusting to University and had already decided to leave before my Dad died. Doing my degree from home worked perfectly for me, I didn’t need help being motivated to study and do the work as I have always loved learning so almost enjoyed it more reading textbooks and writing assignments. I guess I was in control of my studies abs study schedule. I realise many would find this way of studying difficult but it worked for me.

I was still anxious during these years. Driving became an issue I was always worried about doing something wrong and OCD quickly became a big issue with this (I will write about this another time). It’s difficult to remember exactly how things were back then as it’s been a few years but I know I was anxious and just scared I think of what might happen. Almost on edge the whole time ready just in case something went wrong in life.

I did take medication for my anxiety for nearly 5 years I think. It took me a long time to actually go to the doctors and do this but I did. It’s difficult to say whether it helped or not, I think it did in someways but not others. The worries were still there it didn’t fix my mind but I guess it helped it become more manageable at times. For me personally I wouldn’t go on medication again as I don’t feel it did enough for me but I know it’s different for everyone and for some people it helps so much. I decided to come off it before my Husband and I started trying for a baby. I did get withdrawal symptoms when I came off it, not in terms of my mental health feeling worse but more I felt physically not well. It was hard to actually say how I felt , I described it as kind of dizzy / wobbly and my head felt funny but not an actual headache. I was tired too but just didn’t feel great. Again it’s different for everyone but for me coming off them was tough because I absolutely hate feeling ill.

Since then my anxiety I would say has been okay in terms of I feel positive about it and although it’s never actually gone away I feel I’ve copied fairly well. Being pregnant was tough because I worried about every little thing but thankfully all was fine and I couldn’t be more grateful to have our little girl, she changed my life in the best way. I have a fear of hosptials in general, which I think stems from visiting my mum as a young child on ICU, so going into hospital to give birth was so scary even before it started! Becoming a new mum was obviously a massive learning curve as it is for anyone and I was worried about everything and probably still am!

I felt quite proud of myself (which is rare) for how I managed the first months becoming a mum but obviously then with the news of Coronavirus it definitely just made me so anxious. I was worried about it before most people even realised it was happening I think! I was premature in my fears compared to most I guess. I remember the first cases in the UK even though it was like less than 10 at that point!

I think for me having Anxiety, becoming a New Mum and then The Pandemic was obviously a recipe for me to become a bit overwhelmed with my worries. I don’t think I’ve really relaxed in nearly a year now since I first started hearing about the virus on the news. Despite this I actually think for me I’ve coped pretty well, unfortunately my OCD now is more about germs and washing my hands far too much whereas originally it started with checking things but I guess it’s my way of feeling like I’m doing what I can to keep me and my family safe. Being the kind of person I am I’ve made sure to follow the rules which I believe are incredibly important as I do believe we all need to do our bit and I get anxious knowing and seeing others breaking them but I know that’s life and people do have different views on things.

I’ve had to stop watching and reading the news at times because that is the worst thing for my anxiety. Seeing pictures of hosptials and reading figures terrifies me and also breaks my heart too. I do look sometimes when I feel able to without becoming overwhelmed by it. I do just find it so scary. I know other people who maybe don’t usually have anxiety feel just as scared by it all so I guess my feeling on this are justified. It’s a Global Pandemic I guess it’s understandable to be worried about it all.

I think the difference for me is that it’ll take me time to adjust back to how things were before. I’ve almost been grateful for the lockdowns and restrictions in some ways because then I feel I can follow them and keep safer but I guess then you get used to that and feel secure in your own bubble and way of doing things. When restrictions were lifted over the summer and into autumn we did do some things like some trips out to places for our little girl which was so lovely and seeing some family and friends too. Mostly outdoors because that’s where I’ve felt more comfortable but we did meet indoors with some people on a few occasions (when it was permitted) after a bit of pressure and feeling judged for still being worried and wanting to be more careful (or they would have seen it as over cautious). Some hurtful comments were made about my mental health which I won’t go into now but it’s affected me and I guess I’ve been seeing myself as not doing well enough or needing to be “fixed” since then - despite actually thinking I’ve copied pretty well with it all! It’s complicated and I won’t go into it now but the funny thing is when I feel judged it actually makes my anxiety worse for some reason? Like I then feel I need to work harder to not be anxious which makes it stronger.

I’m going to stop now but this is just a bit about my anxiety, there’s a lot more to it than just what’s written here. I know there are people out there who struggle more than I do and I do hope they have people to support and listen to them. For me I would love to be more open about it (I do have some people who I can be which I’m so grateful for) but once I feel judged for being a bit different I guess I then feel like I have to change who I am and hide part of myself if that makes sense. Then I feel awkward because I’m overly aware of my behaviour and what I say in case I come across anxious or they say something more about it.

I hope mental health and anxiety becomes better understood and less judged in the future. I know we’ve made a lot of progress on this since I was younger but I do think there’s still stigma out there and judgement and the view that it can just be fixed. I believe I will always have anxiety or be an anxious person but I hope to keep learning how to cope with it better and that I find ways so that it doesn’t limit me in life - that doesn’t mean it just disappears though.

Just some of my thoughts on the topic, probably a lot of waffle but I enjoy making sense of the thoughts in mind, goodnight world and stay safe.

** I should have mentioned that I have had counselling a few times over the years and I’ve always found this incredibly helpful and for me it’s offered a lot of support and allowed me to explore my feelings and life in more depth and understand and accept myself more.

[oknerd3]

Scaled- RemAnTeal

Oh look! I just started making these and I’ve already gone into Shorts characters! This is gonna be a fun echo chamber. Anyway, this fanfic is based off a drawing by @nachosforfree

Warnings: self-harm, body issues, Deceit, Remus, scales, unsympathetic Patton and Virgil, tell me of anything else

Remy caught a glimpse of himself in his mirror as he changed and he promised himself he wouldn’t stare too long. He promised to himself on Teal’s and Andy’s life that he wouldn’t do this to himself, but he was never ever good with promises, especially when it came to this.

Scales.

He had fucking scales.

They looked like Deceit’s, but they were different. His were so much warmer. They had a browner tint to them and only covered half of his chest. The ones currently showing on his shirtless frame sparkled and caught light like diamonds, but he hated them.

He wanted them gone. They only served as a reminder to how the others treated the clones accordingly. Andy and him were outcasts while Dayd and Teal were welcomed with very open arms, at least that was until Teal started dating them, then Teal was thrown to the side as well. Remy didn’t even have a chance, and maybe, maybe Teal would if Remy wasn’t Deceit’s little brother.

If Remy didn’t have these worthless scales that screamed that he was some horrid creature. He was a deceiving monster. He’d never belong with the others! He was a manipulative beast, simply as Deceit! He was a broken record of ill words and flirtings and nothing more! He was just Deceit in a different outfit! A fail of a clone! He was everything Patton hated. Disobedience, a need, addiction, everything! And with Patton running the place, that meant that Remy was fucked from the beginning and would never get his chance to change! He didn’t even need to change. He just needed a chance.

Remy didn’t know how the tweezers got in his hands. Before he could even know what he was doing, he pressed the two sharp sharp edges of the tweezers to slice over and under a fat, demented, screaming scale, then pulled with all his might to get the cursed and damned part of him off.

And... it was off. It hurt like hell, but the scale came off with just him pulling. He dropped the tweezers to the ground and stared down at them. They had a bit of blood on them from the horrible thing he did. He scrambled to the floor and started trying to put the scale back, but it wouldn’t stay. Remy stopped after a moment, then looked at himself in the mirror again. He... he could make this work. He could do this. He could....

He’d be normal. He’d be normal for fucking once. He’d be able to date Teal without dragging the other down. He could get rid of his scales, look normal, then pretend to be someone else and make his datemate, Andy, so so happy.

He pulled another scale off with a hitch of his breath, then continued. He pulled them off and off and off and listened to the scales gently pad against the hard-wood floor. With each scale came a bead of blood that dropped dropped dropped to the ground in a pretty little pile. He continued to pick at the scales, tearing apart himself, until he heard a gasp.

“Remy?! Are you okay?! I saw blood-“

Remy looked up. Andy met his eyes with a softer gasp and a step back. They stared for a moment. Remy was frozen. Remy’s stomach twisted and his vision blurred. Whether all from tears or blood loss was unknown.

Remy gathered words, trying to hide his wounds that were on full display and full of hatred. He covered his hatred over himself with a bloodied hand and turned to his date mate. “Andy?” Though he knew exactly who it was, his mind was fogged over.

“Get out, don’t look a-“

Remy grabbed the sink hard, his world spinning faster than it should, the mirror next to him going from black to white, black to white, “-me.” giving him a horrible headache as his fingers shook against the porcelain of the sink, gripping so tight he shouldn’t have fallen, but he did.

Andy rushes forward and grabbed Remy from the air, holding the male, with scales growing back, up. Holding him up, they slowly set Remy on the sink and leaned him against a wall. Holding him up, they begun bandaging Remy’s chest that was soaked with so much blood, Remy should have passed out much sooner, but given he was cold blooded, Andy was glad this was not the case. Holding him up, Andy wrapped Remy in their own hoodie. Setting him down, they ran out to get Teal, then brought him in and explained what happen slowly, refusing to let go of Remy’s hand as he did so.

Teal frowned and got under the covers with Remy, then hid his face in Remy’s hair, shaking and breathing heavily, cooing soft words he hoped the other heard.

Andy curled up in Remy’s arms, trying to relax against him and frowning at just how cold Remy was.

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Teal asked softly, eyes glancing from Remy to Andy like they were flickering.

“I-“ Andy let out a shaky breath, “I dunno. Let’s just... sit here and hope so.”

“Can I go get Logan?” Teal sat up, eager to move and release his nervous energy

Andy took a second, then rested their eyes for moment, “I’ll go get him. I need a minute.” They got up left to find Logan or maybe Deceit. Not Virgil. Never Virgil for this stuff.

Teal nodded and waited while Andy left. He kissed Remy’s hair and played with Remy’s fingers, tapping his feet with fear, his heart racing, but there was nothing for him to do about it.

Logan came in quickly and began checking Remy for signs of life, gently pushing Teal away so he could work properly.

Teal stared with anxious eyes that Logan refused to meet because of both his uncertainty and the reminder of who Teal was cloned as.

Andy walked over and brought Teal to sit in a chair. They held their boyfriend close and waited for answers.

“He’ll be awake by tomorrow,” Logan explained as he approached the two. “But he is rather cold, so I will get him an IV with blood and a heating pad. Can you both watch over him while I get those things?”

They both nodded immediately.

“Excellent.” Logan nodded back, then left the room quickly, nearly running.

The two returned to holding Remy and looked at each other, puzzlement across their features. “What should we say when he wakes up?” Teal whispered in a small voice.

“Fuck you for making us worry,” Andy suggested in a grunt.

“We can’t do that!” Teal gasped, hands going to cover his own mouth at his volume.

Andy shrugged, then huffed, “maybe-“

“Maybe you both shut up.” Remy mumbled tiredly, covering his own face in a pillow

Teal gasped and pulled Remy up into a hug, tears falling down in relief and dread,

“are you okay?”

Remy nodded, “yeah, why-“ he looked down, dread and panic quickly circling his brain, “oh shit.”

Andy hugged Remy as well, though much tighter, “you were pulling your scales out with tweezers, Remy. You can’t just do that in front of me and expect everything to be okay.”

“I know,” Remy whispered, keeping his eyes as far off the two as possible.

“We were worried over you,” Teal let a few more tears slip as he hugged Remy tighter.

“Aw, babes.” Remy whispered softly, “it’s okay.”

“You’re going to see a therapist.” Andy ran their hands over the bandages, tone final.

Remy nodded slowly, then paused, “But-“

“Fuck you, you’re getting help.” Andy glared through rings of fire.

Teal relaxed against Remy, burying himself in Remy’s coolness, “do you think you’ll be okay?”

Remy kissed Teal’s forehead in an attempt to placiate the other, “of course, sugar. I’ll be fine.”

Andy sighed and looked Remy over, their stomach slowly untwisting, “nap time?”

Remy smiled a bit, closing his eyes and leaning into his boyfriend and datemate, “yeah, I need a little rest.”

Teal kissed Remy’s cheek, resting his eyes continuously in Remy’s neck, “do you need someone to bore you to sleep with the newest textbook he got?”

“No,” Remy answered sweetly and weakly, “but I do need my most beautiful boyfriend to talk to me in his pretty voice till I pass out again.”

Teal laughed with red cheeks, then cuddled up to Remy, “so, identities, right. There’s a ton of different ones, like transgender, agender, nonbinary,” he glanced happily at his date mate, Andy, who snuggled closer to Remy, “cassgender.”

Remy laughed a bit and gestured for Teal to continue, “we know we exist hun.”

“But there’s also so many pronouns, but these do not corrispond to the genders. There’s xir and em and they and everyone can go by whatever pronouns they want, no matter who they are and everyone is valid. You’re valid, Remy.” Teal kissed Remy’s cheek.

Remy moved his eyes to look back down, trying to cover them with his eyelids, “I know I am.”

Andy kissed Remy again, completely unconvinced, “you’re our world. Don’t hurt yourself just cause you’re thinking you fucked up. If you wanna hurt yourself, get your ass over to me so I can cuddle the fuck out of you.”

Remy closed his eyes as tight as he could, his stomach coiling and warming with guilt, “I’m sorry.”

“We’re glad you’re okay.” Teal whispered, “you mean everything to us, scales and all. We need you and love you, no matter what your scales look like. You’re our boyfriend, not matter what.”

And with the soft words from his boyfriend and datemate, Remy drifted off to sleep, a small smile on his lips as he promised himself never to harm himself again. He forgot how bad he was with promises.

[brianandthemays]

Love is a Polaroid (Roger Taylor x reader) Chapter 4

A/N Just to let y’all know I”m starting a spotify playlist so if you have any song ideas let me know!!!

Once again HUGE shoutout to @sweet-ladyy for reading and editing my stuff. I have THE WORST grammar and she suffers through it so thank you so much!

Word Count: 1551

Warnings: LOTS OF FLIRTING 

1, 2, 3

____________________________________________________

 The next day, you sat in your flat surrounded by papers and textbooks as you study for an upcoming biology exam. A Beatles record played softly in the background as the afternoon light lit a warm temperature around the room. You weren’t majoring in biology. You were a Public Relationship major but you had your core classes you had to take. Why you chose biology was beyond you at the moment as you studied the act of mitosis and how it operats in the human body. You could feel the headache building already as you chewed on the end of your pencil in concentration.

 You jumped as the phone rang, breaking the stream of consciousness that you had worked for so long to build. You sigh as you reach over to grab the phone off the hook from the side table closest to you. You hooked it between your ear and your shoulder as you scribbled another note down in your textbook.

                 “Hello,” your voice was short, not really interested in who was on the other side.

                 “Hello, love,” your pencil stilled as you realized who it was. It had been less than 24 hours and Roger was already calling you. You felt your heart flutter at his voice and you set your pencil down to grab the phone with your hand.

                 “A little desperate, are we,” you joke, hoping to sound more confident than your felt.

 You heard his deep chuckle over the phone, again sending a flutter through your heart and chills down your arms.  “I just couldn’t wait any longer”

 You could practically hear the smirk on his lips as you sat back against the side of the couch, pulling your legs to your chest to get more comfortable.

                 “I suppose you’re calling to ask me on a date, then,”  you reply, raising your eyebrows.

                 “Hey! Maybe I just wanted to call and ask about your day,” he defends himself quickly. You  pause for a second before answering.

                 “Well unfortunately, my day hasn’t been very exciting,” you tell him looking over at the mess you’ve made on your floor. “I’ve got a biology test coming up that I have to study for.”

                 “Biology? I thought you were at an art school.”

               “I still have core classes I need to take, “ you explain, rolling your eyes. “Unfortunately the process of Mitosis doesn’t seem to compute in my brain.”

                 “Oh Mitosis is easy, what’s your issue?”

                 “I’m serious, Roger, I don’t have time for this.”  

                 “I’ll have you know that I’m studying biology. I’m quite good at it actually.” He sounds hurt and whether it was mocking or not you couldn’t tell.

                 “Okay, well, I just don’t understand the phases, I guess, and how they work,”  you say, scrunching nose as you drag one of your textbooks towards you.

                 “So you have Prophase, Prometaphase, Metaphase, Anaphase, and Telophase which is followed by Cytokinesis. Those are-”

                 “Woah, woah, woah! Slow down,” you scramble to grab your pencil. You hear him chuckle over the line and you can’t help but blush, even though he can’t see you. “I wasn’t actually expecting you to answer that quickly,”

                 “And why’s that?”

You curl your finger around the line, sheepishly, not wanting to admit the truth.

                 “It’s because you didn’t think I actually knew isn’t it?” His tone was clear this time.

                 “Well, that’s not exactly it.”

                 “You think just because I’m a drummer in a band and happen to have a lot of sex that that means I’m not intelligent.”

 You open your mouth to fight back but found no words coming. You felt ashamed in the fact that he was mostly right.

                 “I’m sorry,” you say quietly, hoping he heard the genuine tone in your voice.

  You waited for him to tease you for being pretentious, but his voice was soft. “It’s quite alright, love.”

 He sounded slightly dejected, like he was used to hearing that. The sound was something you hadn’t heard from him before. He was always so confident and cool and it wasn’t a tone you had expected. You bit your lip trying to think of something to say.

                 “Tell me more…” you say finally.

                 “What?”

               “Tell me more about Biology, stupid.” You giggle.

 He scoffed. “Love, you don’t need to-”

                 “Roger if you don’t start telling me about Biology, right now.”

                 “Are you sure?” He sounded so genuine. As if no one had ever asked him about anything of than his drums or getting in his pants.

                 “Please.”

                 “Well, you asked for it.”

 He proceeded to tell you all about the process of mitosis and how it worked with in the human body system. He answered questions and made jokes along the way but he was completely knowledgeable. You had never expected him to be so intelligent and well-spoken. But you had learned more about him in this one phone call than you had ever thought possible. When you finally looked over at the clock, two hours had passed and it was 6:30.

                 “Wow Roger, that was really helpful.” You admit, massaging your temple.

                 “I’m sorry I kinda talked your ear off there.”

                 “No I enjoyed it. Who knew Mr. Bad Boy was such a scientist,” you joke. He laughed loudly over the phone.

                 “I wouldn’t call myself a scientist but interested in the subject yes.” He spoke over the phone. “It’s not really something I broadcast to the world.”

                 “You should. Smart is the new sexy.” You smirk.

                 “Oh, so you think I’m sexy.” His voice lowering to a more sultry tone. You gape and stutter.

                 “Psh,  I never said that.”

                 “I think you did, love.”  You didn’t say anything in return, you just blushed. “So how about that dinner you were talking about?” he asks finally.

 The question you had been waiting for all night. You shift from your spot on the floor and lifted yourself up onto the couch behind you. “What about it?” you feigned ignorance, hoping to get a reaction; And you did.

               “I guess you’re going to make me ask fully aren’t you.” He scoffs.

                 “Ask what?” you reply, biting your lip. You hear him sign in annoyance before answering.

                 “Would you like to get dinner with me this week?” His voice was strong, not a single shake or stutter and it made your heart soar.

                 “I think I might like that.”

                 “Yeah?” The enthusiasm and slight surprise in his voice took you aback.

                 “Yeah.” you reply firmly.

 He let out a  long breath into the phone, causing you to chuckle.

                 “You don’t know how nervous I was to ask you that.”

                 “I did tell you to call me, didn’t I?” You point out.

                 “Well, yeah but you could have been pulling my leg.  I’m surprised you even gave me a real number,” he admits. You laugh at that. “How about  I pick you up at 8:00 this Friday,” he continues.

                 “Where are you gonna take me?”

                 “Now it’s time for you to wonder.” He said referring to the still untold mystery of your name.

                 “Oh, so it’s a surprise then,” you shot back.

                 “Yep! And hopefully by the end of the night I’ll be able to call you by your name.” His voice became rough and the sultry tone was back. You understood the sexual nature behind the comment and it sent a shiver down to your toes.

                 “We’ll see about that,” you murmur back. You heard the intake of his breath to say something back but he’s interrupted by a faint voice in the background. You vaguely recognized the voice as the tall, fluffy haired man from the bar.

               “Oh bugger off, Brian!” Roger’s voice was slightly muffled and you could tell he’d covered the phone with his hand. When he spoke again, you could tell he’d removed his hand. “Sorry, love, I have to go.  Bri and I are trying out a new singer for the band,” he explains.

                 “A new singer?” You question “What happened to, what’s his name?”

                 “Quit the band, same night I saw you actually. But some bloke came up to Bri and I and offered to take his place,” he told you.

                 “Well, that’s unfortunate, I hope this new guy works out.”

                 “Yeah, me too- OH ALRIGHT BRIAN.” His volume rose again at the last part, causing you to flinch away from the phone quickly. “I really do have to go, love.”

                 “Alright, well… I’ll see you on Friday.” You didn’t want to go, you wanted to stay in this spot talking to him forever.  His voice was rough and coarse yet it’s tone was somehow soothing to you. After listening to him talk for a few hours, you didn’t want to let go of it.

                 “Yeah… Friday.” He echos.

                 “Bye.”

                 “Goodbye.”

  Then you hung up, and he was gone. You stared at the phone, trying to will it to ring again, but it didn’t. You looked back over your notes and textbooks and felt a small smile come over your lips. You were going to dinner with Roger Taylor this Friday. You stood up from the couch and twirl around before bending over to start cleaning up your notes. Just then the phone rang and you scrambled back over to the couch to pick it up.

                 “Sorry, love, real quick, what’s your address?”  

_____________________________________________

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[stemcellee]

Staying healthy during the academic year is VERY important!! I’m on the quarter system at UCLA which leaves NO time for students to get sick and miss class. Thankfully I haven’t had any medical issues that have kept me from missing weeks of class, but prevention is key!

Here are some tips I followed last year to feel my best for schoooooool.

Prevention: Avoid getting sick/feeling bad in the first place!

- Physical Health 

Get the flu shot!! School normally resumes in the fall when flu season starts up.

Eat fruits rich in Vitamin C (such as oranges, apples) because Vitamin C strengthens your immune system!! Over the school year I ate Cuties (the small tangerines) in the morning on the way to school and I avoided getting sick, even when all my roommates caught colds!

EAT a healthy diet overall. On weekends or free time, hit up your local grocery store and get some HEALTHY foods!! If you only have things that are good for your health around you, there’s no way you can snack on junk food. If you live on campus and use meal swipes in the dining halls, try to get in your vegetables and keep your plates looking balanced! Cutting out sugary drinks is the EASIEST way to reduce sugar intake, and if you drink water instead, that’s a hydration win!

Drink water also! But don’t beat yourself up if you don’t get in 8 cups a day. Eating fruits and vegetables (like watermelon or lettuce) will supply you with more water as well. But cold water is a refreshing wake-up stimulator after some hours hunched over a textbook!

Drink water in the morning. Your body just went through a whole night’s sleep of NO WATER! You are dehydrated!

Apparently, drinking some water before going to bed also helps lower blood pressure too.

EXERCISE because it is actually the ONLY thing that will keep you healthy for a really long time. Last year I took a class that looked at the process of aging, and the only thing that proved time and time again to prevent people from sickness and encourage longevity in life is EXERCISE. Specifically the kind that gets your heart pumping a little, like running/cardio. 

Yoga is nice because it’s relaxing 

WASH YOUR HANDS. Even if it’s just with water

SHOWER DAILY please shower daily. 

Brush your teeth at least twice a day! Dental health is just as important as the rest of your body’s health.

Get enough sleep. This is much easier said than done, but seriously living off of no sleep at all contributes to weakened immunes and irritability. JUST NAPPING IS GOOD

Remember to take your medicines if you have any, or carry allergy medicines if you have allergies!

- Mental Health

If you feel way too stressed, then take a break from the thing that’s stressing you out! Don’t suffer.

Don’t suffer alone either. Having company (if you want it) can benefit you emotionally The right people are comforting and bring our the best in you, and shape you into the person you will become. The right people are valuable!

Notice I say “the right people.” Toxic relationships can eat you up. I went through toxic relationships and not only did I feel weak, my studies were affected as well because my problems were all I could think about!! Cut them out. It will hurt just like ripping out a band-aid, but wounds heal. Time is your best friend.

See a professional if you feel you need to. Don’t be afraid of seeking help/don’t feel embarrassed. The brain IS AN ORGAN and needs to be treated like any other. The brain needs to be taken care of as well. 

From time to time, do something you love. Relaxing in a bath, going shopping, drawing, singing, reading, venting, anything really. You DESERVE it!

For some people, homesickness is a real thing. If you find yourself homesick, don’t hesitate to call home/talk to friends at home/talk to someone else who is not from the area and can relate to you. Again, time is your best friend. You won’t Always feel homesick, but it can happen. Maybe even plan what you will do the next time you go home!

Talk to your family if you feel the need to. 

Take care of yourself first. Staying healthy is all about self-care. CARE FOR YOURSELF FIRST

Remedy Care: so you are now feeling under the weather. That’s okay! Get well soon.

NyQuill is for colds/flu and IT MAKES YOU SLEEP VERY WELL (personally I didn’t take this until college when I caught a cold. It’s kinda wonderful because you feel good enough to function the next morning)

DayQuill is good too if you wake up feeling sick but NEED to function!

Tylenol and Advil should be taken with food because they *might* cause stomach discomfort if taken on an empty stomach.

FOLLOW DOSAGE DIRECTIONS ALWAYS. THIS IS SO IMPORTANT

Staying well hydrated will prevent a lot of complications/progression of illnesses. 

If you can’t really eat, at least have fluids. Don’t have really sugary fluids though!!

YOU SHOULD CHANGE YOUR TOOTHBRUSH AFTER A SICKNESS BECAUSE YOU COULD RE-INFECT YOURSELF LOL

If you wear retainers from orthodontics, consider cleaning them EXTRA well every night that you are sick (because they’re lowkey petri dishes for bacteria and stuff ewwwww)

Sleep a lot. 

If your nose is stuffy, try breathing hot steam. You can soak a towel in very warm water and breathe from it, or put very warm water in a bowl and put a towel over your head and lean over to breathe the steam. Like a mini sauna! Be careful though, steam can be hOT

If you have a headache, something I’ve always found useful is to place a damp warm towel over your forehead and eyes and lay down. Can also put some on your neck!

Stomach-related illnesses are very dangerous if you cannot keep down fluids. PLEASE SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION if you cannot stay hydrated!! This is soooo important.

If you are having a mental health break, don’t go through it alone. 

SELF CARE AGAIN. No one knows you better than you. Get what you need to feel better.

Hopefully, you do not stay ill for too long! But if you miss classes, make sure to let your professor/teachers know. Some will be understanding and can help you catch up, and others will need a doctor’s note before they believe your excuse for absence lol. 

In the end, you have to be healthy. Even if you miss classes and assignments to get well again, no bad grade will ever compare to the importance of HEALTH.

Good luck and stay strong!!