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thetorturedbuckydepartment · 2 months

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chapter one: the briefing

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!SHIElD!reader

masterlist

summary: being a SHIELD agent, you have a knack for analysing people, particularly when it comes to attraction. you have everyone figured out, sorted away into the boxes you've created. But there's one man you can never seem to figure out, the very bane of your existence -- Bucky Barnes. On the field, he is a saint, helping you dodge bullets and taking knife wounds in your name. Around the building? Public menace number one, always poised to insult or to spar with you.

After being sent on a 6-month-long torture-cum-vacation with the very man, could all this change? Could you finally figure out what has been bubbling beneath the surface for years between the two of you, the juggernaut that you know you cannot stop?

warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of murder, dead parents, scars, trauma, implied slutshaming, mentions of guns and shooting and bombs, mentions of wanting to die, dark content, reader is implied to be bisexual (I cannot fathom not being attracted to women SORRY NOT SORRY), reader is implicitly stated to be NOT A MAN

word count: 3.4k

A/N: omg it's here! had so much fun writing this, hope you all enjoy it too! im still working out a schedule for this, as ive currently written 3 chapters and am already at about 10k words! and im currently very inspired for my own, non-fanfic WIP, so im split! hope you enjoy, and as always, let me know if you liked it! comments and reblogs are much appreciated <3

Human attraction can be sorted into three little boxes: Sexual, romantic, platonic. It is somewhat of a threeway Venn diagram, and people find themselves travelling in between the perfectly drawn circles all the time. It is a marvel to some, to be able to gauge the section in which one stands with a simple glance. It’s a gift, you’ve found, having the knack to discern between the three attractions. Which means you’ve cracked the code on people, and know exactly how to assess and engage accordingly.

It’s how you find yourself in such a predicament as the following, quite often:

“You’re Butterscotch, aren’t you?” The voice is meek, quiet, and comes from directly behind you. You’ve just put down the weights at the gym, and have paused to take a drink from your water bottle, when you turn to assess the situation.

Long brown hair, blue eyes. Gorgeously shy smile as she tucks a strand behind her ear. Your whole body moves, reacting to the incarnation of Aphrodite herself in front of you. You suppose you’ve always seen women that way, to be wholly more beautiful on average compared to men. It’s how you often find yourself in bed with a woman not unlike the one before you.

She stands, slyly pushing her breasts together and leaning into you, whether it be subconscious or not, batting her long eyelashes. Sexual attraction, then. You smile, deciding to play it cool, taking another long sip of water, silently reveling in the way her eyes stick on your wet lips.

“Yeah, that’s me. And you, you’re Hazel, aren’t you?” You tip your head to one side in faux innocence, honing you eyes in on her in a way you know sends shivers down her spine, completely hypnotised by the way you silently call to her. She nods, surprised that you’ve remembered her from her initiation training 6 months ago. She was one of the older recruits, only two or three years younger than you, but valuable just the same.

“I’ve been following your career for a while now, and I must say I really look up to you.” Her lips twist into a grin, showing off her perfect teeth. Your own face darkens as you inject lust into it, and you watch as she tries to discreetly squeeze her thighs together. She’ll be eating right out of your hand in no time.

If she’d come to you 13 years ago, when you were just starting out, you would’ve wanted to tell her that all you are interested in is a promise of casualty. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less, but the absence of such a discussion did land you in hot water all that time ago. Now, your reputation precedes you, and you doubt there is a single soul in this building who doesn’t know your one-and-done policy. Of course, some of the agents surprise you and you have them on a staggered rotation, a new criteria you’ve introduced into your sex life once the gap between you and fresh faces widened to an immoral degree.

You open your mouth to give her a reply that will make her leave here with sticky thighs, when the most agitating, grating voice you’ve been almost tortured with for the past eight years echoes across the gym, calling to you.

“Let’s go Butterface, Fury had a brief for us twenty minutes ago. You can fuck around later.” You roll your eyes at the words of none other than James Buchanan Barnes, huffing out a breath. He’s done this to embarrass you, for sure, because you know for a fact that Fury’s briefing for the next mission is actually in ten minutes from right now. But you know if you showed up on time, he gets the upper hand for coming in earlier.

That’s the other reason you’re so famous around the building — your long-term feud with Bucky. Whenever the two of you end up in a meeting room, there are more insults hurled around than facts. You two love to spar together, finding any excuse to leave bruises on the other’s body. But the most damning thing? There is no better team than the both of you out on the field, your missions always resulting in the lowest casualties and highest success rates SHIELD has ever seen. It’s an eternal mystery, but to the two of you, it is clear enough. You are enemies, holding the dagger of sharp-edged insults to each other’s throats, but on a mission? It must all be put aside for the greater good, for the safety of others. The remarks are snarky but non-distracting, and you’ve jumped in front of a bullet for him more times than you would like to admit. But it doesn’t matter, because he has endured several injuries for you in turn as well.

You redirect your attention back to your self-sacrificial prey for tonight. “Well, if you need me, I’ll be available at my room on floor 13 at around ten.” You lean in to whisper into her ear, and drag a less-than-innocent finger down the side of her neck. “I can give you a few more ways to look up to me, if you’d like.” The lower octave does something to her, and you watch her eyes flutter shut as she realises you’ve gladly accepted the silent offer she was handing you on a silver platter.

You chuckle, at how easy it all is. And then spin on your heel, marching back to begrudgingly follow behind the tall brunette who seems to have a permanent scowl on his face whenever he’s in the same room as you.

He leans back against the cool metal of the elevator that will send the both of you to the top, arms crossed across his broad chest. If you didn’t hate his guts, you’d absolutely suck him dry, right here right now. It’s no surprise that he is the most beautiful man in the building, but his attitude and mannerisms have long turned you off from him.

You poke the bear.

“What happened, Barnes? You mad nobody’ll fuck you?” He turns to you then, blue eyes blazing. And it only makes your shit-eating grin widen.

“Why would I ever be mad at that? I’m mad because we have to go on a mission, and when I come to get you, you’re busy planning on how to… spend your night. Again. At this point, if they’ve got a pulse they probably meet your standards, don’t they?” He smiles cruelly, and you don’t miss the implications. But you don’t care. If you were a man, they’d be singing your praises in the streets. So why is it different now?

“If they have a pulse? Well, if that were the case, then you…” You let your eyes wander up and down, and you notice his hard shell cracking when you meet his eyes again. You smile widens and you feign a blush, and he begins to smile, thinking he’s got you. And then you throw a grenade into whatever fantasy he’s spinning in his head. “Would be dead.” Your voice has never been more cold, observing the way his shoulders slouch in something akin to disappointment.

This is his kryptonite that you love exploiting, so much. The man is wickedly attracted to you, and is equally as horrid at hiding it. You have no idea what kind, though. Which box he fits into. You’re certain it’s not platonic given the way he talks to you. The longing glances and delicate touches after missions where you end up injured had turned you towards romantic, but you know there is no denying the way his eyes drift to your cleavage when you spar, or the way his hands immediately find your hips when you best him in the ring and end up straddling him. There is no box you can put him in, and it drives you up the damn wall.

You briefly wonder what the two of you would be doing in this elevator right now if you were as attracted to him and either of you had made it known.

The elevator pings and the both of you break the burning, seething eye contact as you file into Meeting Room 17B.

“Right, before Barnes’ dick explodes at the thought of me fucking a woman, what’s the mission chief.” Barnes has the nerve to blush, sitting in the chair opposite yours, both facing the head of the table with a monitor where Fury and Stark both stand.

“Did your mother never teach you the difference between professional and casual?” He fires back, and you grin sadistically, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back.

“She’s dead, Barnes. Have some decorum, and maybe a modicum of respect?” His face falls, knowing he’s crossed a line, but if God Himself came down and told Bucky to apologise, he’d shake hands with the Devil. “What about your father then?” He is frantically searching you for any sign of hurt or discomfort that he can exploit, you can tell by the way his eyes stick to your every feature.

“Hard to when you’re in prison for murdering your wife and attempting to murder your child.” You turn to Stark, knowing you’ve rendered him absolutely speechless. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his mouth close and open like a fish, gasping for some air. Pathetic, really, but well-deserved. In all these years, you’re surprised it took him this long to blame your upbringing, often opting to attack you as a person directly. But you finally got to play the cards you’ve kept close to your chest, a sick and twisted punishment. That means that you win, today.

“Thats 236 for Butterscotch, and Barnes is still on 220,” Tony mutters, and you can’t hide your competitive side that comes out.

You turn to him, tutting. “Keep up, Barnes. I thought you were better competition than this. Pathetic.” You’re shaking your head in mock disappointment. A blood-tinged vignette passes around in the back of your mind, but you try your best to not let it show.

The arguments between you and Bucky as so well-known to get out of hand, the Avengers started keeping score, refreshing each year, of who won the argument. This is strictly judged based on how the final retort leaves the other unable to think of a comeback. You’ve bested him 236 times already, and it’s only February.

“You didn’t tell me about your parents,” he grumbles, cheeks pink in humiliation. Why is he backing down so easily today?

“I don’t owe you shit, Barnes. Especially not about my life before I got here. Sorry, Fury, should we start the briefing?” You divert the attention back to the matter at hand, feeling like maybe you went a tiny bit too far by calling him pathetic to his face.

Since when have you ever nurtured a soft spot for him? Well, you are certainly not going to be starting today.

With both of your mouths shut and eyes attentive, Fury begins to speak.

“We need the two of you to go undercover. We have intel that Senator Parker may be dealing with copious amounts of methamphetamines, involving using his house as a lab and distribution centre. He often targets teens of ethnic backgrounds to carry the drugs and deal them in exchange for cuts — he chooses them this way so they would almost immediately go to prison, and nobody would be let off scot-free to rat him out.” Tony flashes up several holograms of the Senator, the teens caught pressing white packets into palms, and even those who ended up behind bars, and have continued to distribute the drugs from within.

“So…why do we need to go undercover?” You ask, leaning forward in your seat so you could see the graphics better.

“Well…here is Parker’s dating history…” Why does Tony sound so reluctant as he pulls up the dating history? Why is that relevant? These are just some of the questions that swirl around your mind, and are evident in your scrunched up face.

Bucky is watching you, quietly. Observing your features, observing you. He can’t help it — the grace with which you walk, the crudeness with which you speak…it’s entrancing. And you know it. He hates it.

Then, slowly, the pictures begin to appear — there are 17 women. Every single one of them looks like you — the same colour hair, the same colour eyes. Similar face shapes and similar body types. It’s like there’s 18 of you in the room.

“I’m a honeytrap?”

Fury is quick to speak, to protest the misunderstanding that the mission is an objectification of you. “No….well yes. We have carefully constructed a plan that essentially is built on the fact that you happen to be—“

“Exactly his type?” Bucky asks, feeling shame crawl up his spine at the realisation that he has something in common with a drug lord. You look at him as he speaks, and feel more and more confused by the second.

“Yes.” Tony continues. “We’ve planned to plant you in the same cul-de-sac that Parker’s house resides on, and Butterscotch can use the fact that she’s his type to sway him, win his trust. You’ll have to play the long game with him, he’s known to barely let anyone in his house unless he wants to fuck them.”

You feel a sickness coat your stomach. “Will I have to fuck him? Because I’d rather shoot Barnes and then myself and blow up this building.” You chew your lip nervously, all the confidence can your body momentarily evaporating. The old man might just be one of the worst people you’ve ever heard of when it comes to drug trafficking. Not to mention any sexual gratification is just you stepping into a stereotype of what he wants, that you are just another woman with the similar face that he wants to put his dick in. It makes your skin crawl, and you run your fingernails harshly along your forearm.

“No.” To your surprise, it’s Bucky who speaks up. He meets your eyes for a brief moment, before turning to Fury and Tony. “No, right? She clearly doesn’t want to, don’t tell me you’re gonna make her.” He sounds oddly protective over you here, which he has no right to be. But you can’t fight him, not over this.

“No, no, of course not. You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to. At most you’ll have to flirt with him, make him think he’s going to….y’know, with you. And use that advantage to sneak into his house. You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Butterscotch. You know we’d never do that to you, that it’s against our ethics and values.” You nod, relaxing in your seat while Bucky stares at the red, raw skin of your forearm. He wants to soothe it, he wants to soothe you—

“And if I’m going, obviously you’re gonna send the Sergeant with me, aren’t you?” They nod in unison. You take a deep breath, knowing you have to take it. There will be no mission more satisfying. And Bucky is much more bearable when the both of you have a common goal.

“So what exactly is our cover?” Bucky perks up. The both of you wear the suit of civility so quickly when you have to do your jobs.

Fury scratches his neck, exchanging a nervous glance with Tony. You anticipate the answer, knowing it will not be to your liking.

“We’ve planned to plant you in the Acorn suburb in Claremont, just across the street from Parker’s residence, for around six months. It’s a nice, quaint little city, I think the both of you would like it. It’s a lot more green, and less noisy and polluted than New York—.”

“Tony,” you warn, glaring at him. He is omitting the information. Why?

“Fine! The suburbs are conservative as shit, so you’re going as husband and wife!” Your eyes widen, and you swear you lose hearing for a second as the world goes in and out of focus. You have to pretend to be married. Pretending to be in love, you could do — in fact, you could probably pass off most intel exchanges with him as lovers’ private conversations if you smile and laugh on the right cues.

But marriage? The sanctity of which has been so thoroughly, irrevocably spoiled for you? The very reason you have only ever wanted casual in your entire life, as opposed to commitment? You can’t breathe.

You try to hide your shaky hands as you reach for the glass of water, downing it and gasping for breath. All that runs through your mind is the only instance of a married man you’ve ever known, and how it ended. How you ended, body mutilated in enough scars to rival Bucky’s left shoulder, crying out for a bloodied corpse in the back of an ambulance while the paramedics did their best to save you. How you wish they would’ve failed sometimes.

It’s too much.

“I need time to think.” You all but run out of the door, and you think the chair falls with the force of your escape, but your heart is beating too fast for you to be certain. Sweat that had dried reappears at your hairline, beading and dripping down your face. You sit on the floor, clutching at your chest as you’re bombarded by the most horrifying images that not even the strongest of sleeping pills can shake. Your eyes squeeze shut and someone is calling your name. Not Butterscotch, but the name that heinous monster chose for you when you were still in your mother’s womb.

But even that turns out to be a hallucination, your head in your hands as you hear a familiar voice call to you.

“Butterface…is the idea of being married to me that bad?” You freeze. Bucky is here, why is Bucky here? You look up to be met with him crouching by your side, Tony on the other with a hand on your shoulder, and Fury standing tall. There is not a single hint of disappointment on his face, and you’re glad.

You turn to Tony. “You know…you know what…I can’t. You know why….Tony…” His face morphs into one of intense melancholia, pulling you into him. Ever since you started working more closely together with Bucky, he’s become something of a big brother to you — overly protective and affectionately annoying.

“I know, kid. You know what? Screw this, I’ll find some other agent who looks close to you to take over with Barnes.” His voice finally calms you down, and you take in deep breaths.

You can’t win them all. You’ll have to make some sacrifices. You pull away from Tony’s arms, not even daring to glance at Bucky. He doesn’t need to see what you look like when you’re vulnerable, because you know he will do everything in his power to bring you to such a state once again, just to hurt you.

You take several deep breaths.

“No. You and Fury have said it yourself, so many times. Nobody works better with James than I do, at least not in the field. My burning hatred for him is completely personal. I— I can do it. It’s just…I probably would’ve been fine but it got brought up and it was all I could really think about and then…it just sent me over the edge. But if Barnes promises to not be as big of an asshole as he usually is, I can make it work.” You don’t even risk a glance at him.

“I won’t be. I’ll behave. Plus, you are a lot more tolerable out on the field, so it shouldn’t be so hard. Promise, it’ll all be okay.” His tone sounds so…sincere? What on earth is up with him today? You spare him a glance, and his eyes shine brilliantly blue. And you believe him.

Bucky Barnes may be an asshole, but he would never lie to you. Especially when it concerns a mission, where miscommunications and secrets have consequences for people outside the both of you. He has at least this sense of loyalty about him.

“Alright. Guess I better get packing for Claremont, then.”

NEXT PART

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #x plus size reader #marvel #k's writing corner #bucky barnes fanfiction

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coolprettyleo · 7 months

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Don't Forget, Don't Forget About Me - Gabe Perreault ☆

wc: 1.9k

tw: angst. alcohol. kissing? cussing. partying. almost sa. slut shaming. weird frat guy.

part 2 of superman !!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

gabe hadn’t called. he hadn’t texted. it was now sunday night; the night before he was supposed to land back in boston and lottie wondered if he had even thought of her.

her little overthinking insecure mind couldn’t help but hope he wouldn’t go off and save some other girl. a girl who desperately needed saving just like the naive little freshmen lottie was a couple of months prior.

*flashback*

“c’mon!! we’re in college now, you have to actually leave your dorm if you want to make friends char” her best friend from home told her while they were face timing.

i mean its not that lottie liked to stay home. she kinda felt burnt out. her whole life she didn’t have strict authority figures who told her she couldn’t go out. so by the time she was eighteen years old in a new city she didn’t feel the hunger of freeness, every other eighteen year old was feeling.

she grew up with her grandmother in california who had already done her part in raising her children. she was raising lottie out of the kindness of her heart. or mainly due to the fact lottie would be in the foster care system since both her parents were in jail.

“i dont know what if something goes wrong” she says, beginning to look like she can be convinced seeing how cute dylan looks.

it might be fun to dress up and take cute pics…

“it’s college! you finally have the opportunity to be somewhere where no one knows you. you can talk freaking australian and stupid bitches would believe you. your just like every other bitch tonight!”

lottie couldn’t help but smile at her friends drunkness desperately regretting the fact she didn’t go to umich with the blonde friend.

“honestly thats so real and tru. when the hell did u start giving such good advice”

“shutup and let me help you pick a fit” dylan excitedly squeals.

—

lottie walked into a frat party alongside her roommate and some girls they had just met. the music was typical frat music but she was honestly feeling it.

maybe because she missed going out or maybe because her and her friends had just pregamed a bottle of titos before leaving the dorm.

the thing about lottie is that she doesn’t usually drink so when she does, she drinks to have a good time.

“oh my gosh!! charlotte pls let’s go dance. plsss” my roommate Mary slurred whining.

lottie was obviously not going to turn that invitation down, so off she went. unbeknownst to her she had already caught the attention of several guys with the worse intentions possible.

all lottie can remember of that part of the night is that she was dancing with mary having the time of her life and then the next thing she knew, mary was making out with some guy.

okay mary!! slay!

she didn’t want to awkwardly third wheel that, so she quickly made her way out the dance floor. into the kitchen where there were several tall guys standing around with red cups.

“hey charlotte right? we have english together” a shorter boy walked up to her. lottie didn't think he was with the taller boys.

ive never seen this man in my life.

but of course she was naive. and in her little naive mind she didn’t want to make this random guy feel bad so she went along with it. as if they were old friends. they weren’t.

“oh yeah! hi!” she told the black haired boy standing way too close for her comfort.

unbeknownst to lottie he didn’t actually have a class with her and he was just another dumb freshman hoping to get into a frat, trying to prove he was somebody to a bunch of nobodies. in all the wrong ways too. he had just been ordered to slip something into her drink.

why he chose lottie, she would never know.

“here let me get you some water, you don’t look too well”

“thanks!! thats so nice! I was just dancing with my roommate but I don’t know where she went, I think she went off with some guy which is totally fine! im not judging or anything, like good for her” lottie drunkly rambled. one thing about lottie is that she becomes a yapper with just one sip of alcohol.

“ya it can get pretty tiring out there” he said looking around and at her nervously handing her some ‘water’. or so she thought.

as lottie was about to pour the liquid down her throat a tall dark haired boy came and slapped the cup out of her hand. spilling it all over the floor and on her top.

what the hell man

“im so sorry but don’t drink that. here” he said handing her a bottled water desperately searching for a towel to give her to wipe off whatever the hell that liquid was which smelled like the farthest thing from water.

“cmon man i was already talking to her and it was just water” the frat boy said grabbing lottie harshly.

“get the fuck out of here ass hat. how stupid can you be”

"that wasn't water!"

the taller boy and i yelled at the same time while the frat boy shoved him.

“don’t fucking touch me or her” he said pushing him back. harder.

"she's pretty easy to touch man, I mean look at her" the frat guy drunkly said.

the tall dark haired boys friends quickly came and got between them before something bigger started.

“cmon gabe it’s not worth it” a freckled boy said to him while shooting a dangerous glare to the stupid frat guy.

lottie just stood off leaned against the counter trying to figure out who’s the hell are these people? and what the hell was going on? and did that asshole just slut shame her? what the hell did he even mean by that? .

“let’s go find your friends” he said taking my arm much gentler and guiding me through the party. trying to see if I recognized anyone.

“thank you for that, honestly. i didn’t think anyone could ever be capable of doing something like that” I told the boy who had gentler eyes now as we stepped outside. as lottie began to sober up, it hit her what could of happened if this mysterious boy never came to save the day.

im so dumb.

lottie couldnt help but think.

“well now you know for next time right” he said with a light smile as he texted on his phone.

whose he texting?

“who we texting!” lottie said jokingly. trying to lighten up the mood.

“im trying to call us an uber, your a freshman right?” he said with a chuckle, feeling a flip in his stomach as he seen her smile.

thats pretty.

“yeah, are you?”

“yeah, my names gabe by the way” he said realizing he never got her name or even told her his.

“charlotte. but i go by lottie” she said smiling at him, noticing gabe was honestly cute.

“the uber is fifteen minutes away” he said looking down at her, into her big brown eyes.

“thank you. really” she said starring into each others eyes, as if they’ve spent all eighteen years of their lives searching for one another.

feeling her heart beat a million times an hour; something lottie has never felt before. so she couldn’t figure out what it meant. heart attack? maybe?

lord save me.

*flashback over*

lottie felt like an idiot. she knew gabe was back from his trip seeing as his location was in his dorm. he usually would have asked her to go over by now or he would of came here, but seeing as he probably believed lottie didn't love him; he was going to be stubborn and not answer her.

screw it I cant take it anymore

lottie rolled her ass out of bed and put on her uggs as she marched down the hill to his dorm with a mission on her mind.

she had spent the weekend wallowing in self pity and she couldn't take it anymore. this had been the longest they had gone without speaking to one another since they got together and lottie realized she did not like it. not one bit.

—

"gabe just call her back, if she's calling you so much then she obviously does care about you" will snapped finally tired of seeing his roommate in such a terrible mood; all weekend.

"thats the problem! i want her to love me not just care for me. you guys know lottie; she cares for the homeless man down the street that she's never even met before!" gabe gestures with his arms.

"dont be complicated gabe" ryan chimes in, knowing all too well how their friend and teammate is.

as gabe opens his mouth to talk further he is cut off by a loud knock on the door.

ryan quickly trying to escape gabes self pity party practically runs to open the door while will and gabe stay sitting back on the couch.

"lottie! come in!" ryan says loudly looking at will with eyes that speak 'lets get outta here'. will practically ran out with ryan. not wanting to deal with depressed gabe any longer, not before waving at lottie on his way out though.

gabe rolled his eyes at their antics before getting up and walking to his room as lottie began to shut the front door.

"gabe wait! please hear me out"

"there's nothing to hear out lottie. its okay to not love someone back, you dont have to explain anything" he said looking anywhere and everywhere but her.

lottie took a good look at him seeing as he looked like his heart was breaking into a million pieces; lottie wanting so desperatly to put it back together one by one, however long it took. she loved him.

"you cant honestly believe that I dont love you gabe" lottie said softly, walking closer to him.

"look at me gabe" she whispered, while softly turning his head down to look at her. his deep green eyes has her wanting to scream from the rooftops.

"I love you" she said as she shook with nothing but raw emotion and pure love.

gabe couldn't help but scoop her up into his arms and kiss his girl like there was no tomorrow. smiling into the kiss because he hated what he had felt all weekend long.

lottie pulled away from the kiss as she wasn't finished. she planned the speech the whole way here, she wanted to tell him. because when you know you know and she knew.

"I love you gabriel perreault. and im sorry for not telling you sooner. i just assumed you knew and that was wrong of me and so sorry. since the very first day I've loved you. since you saved me from my own stupidity, I loved you. since you've put up through every bad habit and fit I've had, I've loved you-"

"lottie, i know. you dont have to say it" gabe said cutting her off knowing well lottie isn't one to scream her love from the rooftops. with his hands on her lower back. making her stomach do cartwheels.

god I love him. I want him.

"I want to though" lottie said, looking into his eyes. eyes that lottie thought were heart shaped starring deeply into her soul. leaning on her tiptoes to kiss his soft sweet lips again.

the boy who was her boyfriend. the boy she loved. the boy who knew she loved him. her version of superman. at least its the same thing too lottie.

the end!!

I dont know if I want to make this into an au or leave it as it is. we'll see!

#gabe perreault #gabe perreault x reader #bc hockey #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey fic #will smith hockey #ryan leonard #hockey imagine

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mara-and-its-the-same · 1 year

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yeah,,,, sad boy,,,,, anyway

I got this request in like february and then i lost it but it was on anon so i hope it finds whoever requested it even though i bet they don't remember, hey lovely! i LOVED your last post so i was wondering if i could submit a post? ive had this idea for awhile…. A JJ Maybank x kook!reader where JJ just keeps bringing up the fact that the reader and rafe used to have a fling and the reader just breaks down and asks JJ why he keeps bringing it up and JJ tells her its because he saw that Rafe still texts the reader and JJ like demands that the reader blocks Rafe. you can end it however you like! i just like a lot of angst lmao ❤️💋 It should be stated that i did get carried away and forgot a few things but I hope you enjoy <3 WC: 5k, not beta'd

“You’re staring.” You saw JJ looking at you from the other side of the small living room in the chateau. You’d been texting in your group chat with your friends from your old school, since some of them had switched to boarding schools and whatnot, but you caught him out of the corner of your eye.

“I’m not.”

“What are you doing then?”

“Admiring.”

You moved closer to the edge of the couch and made room for him. He jumped on next to you, nearly landing right on top of you. “You’re typing pretty fast. Who’re you talkin’ to?”

You learned in the last few months that you’d been together now that JJ was not the terribly jealous type in public. He was the first guy you’ve dated that understood that if you’re dating a hot girl, there’s no reason she should stop being a hot girl. If anything, he liked it more. He liked that everyone would look at you but you’d always be looking at him. The problem came whenever you took a second to look away. You both knew what it was like to feel insecure, like someone was leading you on for no reason, like there was no trust.

“Just my friends from school.”

“What about?”

“They’re trying to plan something next Saturday.”

He made a face you couldn’t see but you could feel it from his cheek moving on your shoulder. “What?”

When you looked at him he tried to take a neutral expression. “We’re going out Saturday.”

“I know.” Your voice didn’t match his. He sounded rough and salty, you were smooth and sweet. “That’s why I said ‘they’re’ trying to. My Saturdays are yours.”

“Good.” He pushed up to kiss you then went out to see what Pope and John B were doing outside.

Kiara had been watching from the kitchen with a curled lip and a raised brow, holding her cold bottle to her chest. She got you one before she came and sat where JJ had just been. “Possessive much?”

“It’s fine.” You dropped the sweetness and just sounded bored.

“You see him every Saturday?”

“I see him every day. And I guess that includes the days my friends I haven’t seen in 6 months are back in.” You shrugged and rolled your head to the back of the couch after taking a drink. “It’s fine.”

“Why don’t you tell him you want to see them?”

Another shrug, “He’ll ask why I want to go out with some Kooks when I can be with you guys.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She stood up like she was going to walk right out and tell him you’re going, but you pulled her back by the elbow. “What?”

“I’ll talk to him later.”

“Promise?”

You nodded and locked your pinky with hers before going outside.

***

As Saturday approached, your phone buzzed more and JJ got more…territorial. You put it back on do not disturb and set it down by your leg, the one he wasn’t next to, and went back to watching your feet dangle with the tide slowly rising and the wake of a boat every so often splashing your toes. Adding an occasional kick to watch the way it rippled. The sun was settling behind you like an over-ripe peach. Big and bleeding towards orange, it spilled into the water, sending little arcs of light swimming with every roll of water.

“Who’s going Saturday?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re friends are going out Saturday, which ones?”

“Oh, yeah. Um I don’t think you’d know most of them but like Sarah Cameron, maybe her brother, I don’t know though. Lizzie Callaghan, Riley, Jack. I forget who else.”

“You wanted to go out with Rafe Cameron?” It sounded ugly when he said it like that.

“I wanted to go out with my friends whether or not he was there. I told you I wasn’t going to go since we already made plans that day. It’s fine, we’re both happy with it, don’t worry about it.”

“You don’t seem very happy about it.” He pulled his legs up from the water and his heels left the almost grey old wood of the dock dark with salt water. He pulled his arms around his shins.You thought you’d get through without it being brought up, having spent another day together in the cut. He hated going to your house. Not that he hated your house, he hated how far it was from his, how it was further than distance, it was tax brackets away, worlds away.

“I haven’t seen them in a while, I’d like to see them soon. I have plans that day, they’ll be back. It’s fine.” Your posture went to shit after you grabbed your phone. Not that it was the best before, when you were looking at the water, but now your arms weren’t holding you up so your back was curled like a shell. Just to check the time and if Sarah or Kie texted you.

“Yeah, cus I’m sure you never get to see Rafe.”

“Jesus Christ, Jay. I told you that we went on 3 dates four years ago,” you slammed the face of your phone on the dock next to you, not the best idea. “He is in college in Massachusetts! So yes, we “dated” when I was 14, and we stayed friendly because his sister is one of my best friends.” You stood up and grabbed your bag on the way, he hardly even moved, just craned his neck and let his view of you be blurred by the sun behind you. “Yes, I would like to see him, but he, and all my other friends, will be here for the whole summer, there’s more than enough time for me to see them any other non-Saturday.”

“So you still talk?”

“Holy fuck.” You put a hand to your head and turned away for a second.

“I’m just saying like, you’re my girlfriend. It’s not impossible to think that maybe I don’t want you hanging around with that kind of asshole.”

“What is ‘that kind of asshole’?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I feel like I don’t.”

“I mean he was a classist prick to me and all my friends my whole life,” he finally stood up now, and moved so that he blocked the sun from your eyes.

“When he was fucking 12!”

“What about last year when he crashed me and John B’s party at the boneyard? You remember that right? You and him and all your little kooks came, flocking like fuckin– fucking vultures.”

“Fuck this,” you remembered that night, the two of them got into a fight over a keg, and yes Rafe did make some low blows about him being a pogue from the Cut, but that was a year ago, when he was still using and while he was drunk, he’s still accountable, but he’s not that person anymore.

You tried to get past him but he made a lame attempt at blocking your way. “I just want to go home, Jay. I don’t want to do this anymore.” You looked at him now and saw the way his face went from annoyed to apologetic.

“That’s ok, hey, that’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.” He tried smoothing your hair back and letting his hand coast down to your neck but you moved away. “Just let me drive you home.”

“I don’t want– I’m fine, I’ll call Sarah. Just– Please.”

“Please what? I don’t know what you want.”

“I want you to stop. I want this to stop.”

“I don– honey, what do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t even breathe around you like this. It’s– It’s suffocating, Jay. I love you, you know that. I don’t know why you can’t just believe it too.” He let you walk away after that. What more was there to say.

***Saturday***

Since you got together, the last 3 days have been the longest JJ’s gone without seeing you. He was laying on the pull out sofa backwards, his head dropped down over the foot of the bed, not caring that the mattress has sunk over the years and the black metal bar was digging into the back of his neck. He knew he shouldn’t let his pen go upside down, but he needed the distraction, he blew it down trying to fight the cloud from going up before it evaporated.

Kiara was cross legged on the other couch, tapping through her friends’ snap stories. She still had some of the people you went to school with added. “Hey J,” she said.

“Hmm?”

“Have you seen Sarah’s story?”

“Why would I see Sarah’s story?”

“I don’t know. You want to?”

“Not really.” He flipped over so the front of his throat was on the bar and he let out a long groan before he fixed his position.

“She’s lookin awfully comfy up with Sarah.” He knew who she ment by “she.”

“Lemme see.”

“I’m not moving, you come here.”

He groaned again when he flipped off over the couch, like an old man.

Kie swiped it back to the beginning and he saw the progression of you and some other girls in the back of one of their brand new broncos. The roof was off and the next one was a boomerang of your big smiles and hair blowing wild. Then another of you all at lunch, the waiter must have taken it of you. Some of your food, then the sky with your hand pointing to a cloud and your voice saying “That one looks like a chameleon. I’m telling you, look at it.” “What are you talking about?” It sounded like Rafe but Sarah kept it pointed at the sky. “You’re looking at it wrong.” It panned down to you standing behind Rafe, taking him by the shoulders and turning him in the right direction. “That looks like a dog.” It ended with you slapping him on the arm.

The next story was Riley’s, Sarah’s cousin, after the few Kiara skipped through of just the restaurant, there was one of you and Sarah dancing in the street. It looked like it you were still just outside the restaurant, one with an overt theme of a European café. There was a street performer with his open guitar case in front of his stool, his instagram handle on a piece of cardboard tapped to the back of it. In the background, behind you two spinning each other around, it looked like Rafe threw some money in there and then said something to the busker. The next video was of Rafe playing a song that had you all laughing and spinning together. He looked away when he saw you turn your head to look at him.

He looked different than the last time he saw him, healthier, he lost that faraway look he used to have in his eyes. He looked good, and you looked like you liked it.

Kiara turned off her phone and shifted to look at him better. “Doesn’t matter.” She put her hand over his, “She’s just happy he’s doing better, that has nothing to do with how she feels about you.”

“I know that, I know. I just– fuck, I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, you fucked it up a little bit, but not ruined.”

“I don’t want her to hate me.”

“I don’t think she has it in her to hate anyone, especially you.”

***The Cameron House***

Your day ended with a backyard camp out just like you used to do as kids. After all the tents were set up and Riley and Sarah kicked the boys out, you made your 9 person tent into a 5 girl paradise. There was an honest fear in all of you that all your sunset lamps and starry night projectors would overwhelm even the industrial powerstrips, but Sarah assured you, as she plugged in the fourth fan, that it’d all be fine. It was like sitting in a sunset. Pinks and peaches and bubbly orange colors everywhere you looked. Fluffy duvets lined every inch of the floor and there was no escape from all the pillows. Memoryfoam, down, throw, body, king size, every kind of pillow you could imagine stolen from every room in the house. You were between Lizzie and Sarah with Riley and Wheezie across from you.

You always used to have a camp fire before you went back to your tents, and by the time you noticed that the sun was beginning to set from your captured sky in the tent, Rafe and the three other boys had gotten it started.

Lizzie was handing you everyother s’more she made, which really meant that she messed every other one up and gave it to you when she didn’t want it. You were on your second when Rafe noticed you looking cold and holding your hands in front of the fire and elbowed Sarah to go get you a sweater or something. She came back and apologized if it was the wrong size, it was Rafe’s that he grew out of 4 years ago and she never grew into length-wise. “Have another, have another.” Lizzie was trying to bring another s’more to your lips.

“I can’t, I’ll be sick if I have any more.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun.” You knew she was joking when she knocked her shoulder into yours.

“No, you’re the one trying to kill me.”

“Death by s’mores?”

“It’s an epidemic.” Wheezie said as she popped another perfectly goldened marshmallow into her mouth.

You gave Lizzie a look then moved to the bench at the side of the fire where the smoke wasn’t blowing. The only open seat was between Rafe and Jack. Let’s just hope that no one posts anything else tonight.

“Sick of the s’mores?” Jack asked you.

“Yeah, the perfect goop in the middle can only make the charred black shell on the outside worth it so many times before it’s just not.”

“Pull it off then,” Rafe suggested.

“And lose the exhilarating crunch? Never.”

Rafe shrugged, knowing you were just going to keep going in circles, just for fun, and reached over the arm of the bench to offer you something from the cooler. “Surprise me.”

“Close your eyes then.”

“Why?”

“It needs to be a real surprise. If I got something you don’t like you’d just have me put it away and get you something else. Where’s the surprise in that?”

“Hmph.” You closed your eyes and opened your hand to accept the can, the condensation was dripping into the place where your thumb meets your hand and whatever he gave you tasted like fizzy lemon and basil. You hummed trying to figure it out without opening your eyes, in the end you gave up and read the label anyway. “I’m not gonna get high off of this, right?”

“It’s CBD.”

“I don’t know what you’re giving me.”

“I gave you a seltzer.”

“With CBD.”

“Would you be making as big a deal as this if I gave you a beer or something?”

You shrugged and he went to take your can away and replace it with a corona. “Wooah, woah, woah, who said I was done with that?”

“You.”

“No. It was good.”

“Good.” He let go and you took another sip. You took another look around at the fire and everyone around it then brought one leg up to hug against yourself. “So how’ve you been?”

“I’m alright. You?”

“Better than I’ve been in a while.”

“That’s good, I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks…yeah.” He cracked open another can of seltzer, just a regular one. “So I hear you’re going out with that Maybank kid.”

“Don’t call him that, you know his name.”

“Sorry, JJ. How long?”

“A few months. 6 actually.”

“And he let you come out with me?”

“He didn’t let me. I dom’t need anyone to let me do anything.”

“I’m sorry, I just meant–”

“It’s fine, sorry. It’s fine.”

“Should I apologize to him?” He was looking at you but you were just looking at the fire, Jack had left you by then to put out a flaming marshmallow.

“For what?”

“I don’t know, being a dick to him for however long.”

“Probably.” You looked at him now and he looked sincere enough for you to want to continue the conversation.

“You know that I was really in a bad place then, right? Like using every chance I got, just being a dick and having no idea what I was doing?”

“I know. Doesn’t excuse it though.”

“I know that, I do. Which is why I want to apologize. And I’m not just gonna blame my dad either though, like I should have known better than to just regurgitate all the shit he was telling be about the Cut and pogues and whatever, all that shit that doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, I get that.” You turned so you could face him too, your leg was still up on the bench between you two.

“And I wanted to apologize to you too. I was a complete asshole to you that whole time too. I was so stupid and I shouldn’t have been messing with you when you were like 14.”

You took a deep breath before you said anything. You never really had any strong feelings about when you “dated” before, whenever you thought back to it you thought it was all just because you were young and didn’t know any better. Now that he’s saying this though, it just floods your memory of all the times he tried manipulating you into things you weren’t ready for. You never gave in and eventually he gave up and found some other girl that’d fall for the flash of an amex faster than a smile, but you never actually fell that hard to feel any overwhelming feelings about it. “Can I hug you?”

“Really?” Obviously not the reaction he was expecting.

“Mhm.” He leaned in and you rubbed one hand up and down his back a few times. “I forgive you.”

“For real?”

“You’re trying to be better, I believe it.”

***The Chateau***

“JJ, no!” Kiara tried to go after him before John B blocked his way out the front door.

Clearly, someone was posting more videos than you knew about. Kie and JJ were just watching baby sensory videos, the ones with the bouncing vegetables, when she got a post notification. “You wanna look at it?”

He shrugged for the thousandth time that night. “Sure.”

And there was the flaming marshmallow melting on the stone and one of them trying to stomp it out with their $50 flip flop… and you in the background, first with you looking into Rafe’s eyes. Next with your arms around him and his face turned into your neck. Whether he was talking or anything else meant nothing to JJ.

John B was enough to stop him even if he kept trying to push him out of the way. “The fuck is wrong with you, man?”

“She’s supposed to be with me, ok?” He was angry but they heard the hurt underneath. “She’s supposed to be with me and I keep– I keep fucking it up.” He beat a weak fist on John B’s chest before he took him into his arms.

“You didn’t. You didn’t. Listen, listen, hey,” JJ finally pulled back to let John B look at him. “We’ll have her over tomorrow, yeah? Have her over, you guys can talk and figure it out?” JJ was shaking his head. “What? What is it?”

“She doesn’t want me. I fucked it all up and she doesn’t want me anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Kie, show him the thing.”

“What thing?”

“Jay, I don’t think–”

“Just show him the video.”

She went through it and showed John B, she pointed out you and Rafe. “See?” JJ was about to cry again, so John B pulled him back in like a little kid.

“We’ll have her over tomorrow.”

***The Cameron House***

The fire was dying out and you and Sarah were the last ones out. Everyone else was sleeping, or at least laying down in their tents.

“You’re still with JJ?”

“Mhm,” You nodded and took another sip from your sprite. “Actually, I don’t know. It’s been weird.”

“What do you mean?” She moved closer to your side.

“He didn’t want me coming, first because we had a date set, then because he’s still banged up about Rafe and the stuff he used to do. Also because of the 4 dates we went on when I was like 12.” She knew you meant 14, semantics. She hated those 4 weeks, they were miserable.

“But you still came?”

“Mhm, I haven’t seen him since Tuesday.”

“But–”

“He hates your brother.”

“He’s not the only one. But he’s gotten better.”

“I know he has, he apologized to me earlier tonight.”

“So he–”

“He want’s to apologize to JJ too. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, I just…”

“It’s ok, I get it.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to mess it up with him. It’s been going so well, and he’s so wonderful when he wants to be. He’s just…he’s everything and I love it but I just can’t stand it when he gets all weird about coming to my house, he never wants to meet any of you guys or come anywhere near figure 8. I don’t feel bad about what I have, and I don’t pity him for what he has, but I just wish it didn’t matter. Like I wish no one ever told him that he’s just a ‘dirt broke pogue’ or that he’s gonna end up like his dad. He could do so so much if he wanted and I just want him to know that. I don’t want anything to hold him back and I just want to give him the whole world and make him happy but I know he won’t take it,” She put an arm around you and rubbed your shoulder that was against her chest with her other hand. You hiccuped a sob before you realized it and took a breath to collect yourself. “I don’t know if he thinks he isn’t worth it, or he doesn’t deserve it because he isn’t worth it, but I– Fuckin christ, I just want him to be ok.” Your cry became a whine like a little kid’s that doesn’t know how to get their feelings out any other way. Sarah was holding you as close as she could and rocking you side to side as you tried to decide if it would be better to just let it all out now, or try to breathe again.

“You wanna go see him?”

“What?” You pulled back and wiped the few streaks of tears from her cheeks, you didn’t feel like you were worth crying for at the moment.

“Do you want to go see him?” She pulled the cuff of her sweater up to wipe over your cheeks then under your nose.

“What do you–Like right now?”

“Yes, come on,” she shook your shoulder just a bit. “We’ll take the car, go to his house.”

“Not his house. John B’s.”

“John B’s then. You want to?”

You let her pull you up from the bench and towards your shoes before you gave yourself a second to think about it.

***

The streets were nearly dead besides the few college kids speeding by you or a few pick up trucks on their way to work in the other direction.

You caught your face in the sideview mirror, tear stained and puffy but weirdly ethereal with the way the watery tracks sparkled in the street lights you were passing at lightning speed. You looked at yourself a little too hard before you realized how ridiculous this whole thing was.

“What the fuck are we doing?”

“What? No, no, hey, come on, don’t back out now!”

“Sarah, it’s past 2 am, this is just, god it’s so desperate.”

“I am not turning this car around.”

“I’ll jump out the window.”

“You will not!”

You looked back at where you came from, woods, long, straight, not worth the walk in any direction. “Fine.”

“Prepare yourself, we’ll be there in like 5 minutes.” With her driving, 5 became 2 and you were barely halfway though your imagined version of how this would go.

She parked but didn’t turn the car off yet. “The lights,” you hissed at her. “You’ll wake them up.”

“And who do you want to answer the door then?” She pulled the key out and went to the front door before you could get out of your seatbelt.

Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock

“Jesus christ, Sarah,” You pulled her arm down. “You want them to think we’re a SWAT team?”

****

They ran out of drinks 4 hours ago so Kie and John B were playing an embarrassing game of cup pong with some probably a little bit expired sprite they found at the back of the fridge. Pope was showing JJ a nature he hoped would be a good enough distraction, he was getting very invested in the baby elephant’s journey, which they thought was a good sign.

Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock

All their heads shot up from whatever they were doing, it could really be anyone. Too many people trying to find them, not enough with any boundaries or respect for their circadian rhythms.

John B took a step to the door, “Wait,” JJ said, “It could be Luke.” John B nodded and JJ went into the bathroom and locked the door.

Pope walked behind John B and nearly jumped out of his skin when another round of loud knocks came, followed by a harsh “Sarah!”

They looked at each other in confusion then opened the door.

You were there holding Sarah by the wrist, she had her fist raised to knock again, “Hi,” she said before she remembered to put his arm down. He stood to his full height and she was nothing short of stunned. I thought this was about me?! You rolled your still teary eyes and stepped forward just a little. “Can I see him?” you asked gently, knowing you were in no position to be making any demands.

“Do you really think–” –that’s a good idea, is what he was going to say in that careful tone, not wanting to hurt you or JJ, or over step on your relationship but still trying to protect his friend, doing too much at once.

“Yes.”

There was really no room for any more arguments, he stood back to the side to let you past and you went to the bathroom door. Two gentle knocks, “JJ, I– Can we– I–” you were half a second from turning back to Sarah, crying again saying ‘I can’t do it’ but he opened the door and pulled you inside; and maybe you shouldn’t have, but you grabbed both his hands, holding them in a way that his forearms were close against your chest, maybe the weight would calm your heart down.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He moved his hands to the sides of your neck, his thumbs in the space under your ear, just under your jaw. Your hands held his wrists instead. “I don’t want to fight, I saw you and Rafe and I fucking– I saw my whole life without you and I didn’t want it.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry. I don’t want you sorry, don’t be sorry.” You brushed his hair away from his sticky forehead, “I should have listened better, I should thought about what you wanted. I just want to give you everything and the feeling that I couldn’t even give you a Saturday, I–”

“It’s not your fault, I shouldn’t have asked you to chose, I don’t want you to chose between my life or yours, ok? Pick yours everytime, don’t drag yourself down for me.”

“No, no. There’s no my life or your life. Not to me, right? There’s just ours.”

‘Our life.’

“I love you,” he had to say.

“I love you too, and I never want to do that again.”

“Do what?”

“I don’t want to not see you or hear from you for 3 days, and I don’t want to have to decipher your feelings, I want you to tell me the truth. Even if you think I won’t like it.”

“I can do that, I can do all of that.” He was trying to talk fast, the faster he talked the faster he could kiss you, kiss all the feelings he didn’t know how to tell you into you.

He moved in but you moved your head back before his lips reached yours, “Wait.”

“What? What is it?”

“I need to know that you’re not gonna do that again, I need to really know.”

“I promise, I promise you, babe, anything you want.”

“But how do I know you’ll keep it?”

“I mean it.” He took your hands again.

“But can you–”

“Every day, I’ll prove it every day.”

“You swear?”

“On my honor as a Pogue.”

“Hmm,” you leaned into his humor now that you knew he meant it.

“What? You doubt my honor?”

“Only a little.”

“Then I swear on John B’s life. If I ever ever make you feel like I don’t care about you or like you’re doing something wrong, I will personally deliver you his heart in my hand.”

“Ugh, so graphic!”

“How else will you know I mean it?”

You moved your hand up his arm and wrapped your arms around his neck, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#jj maybank #jj mayback x reader #obx #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj x reader #obx fic #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank angst #angst #x reader angst #mara's fics

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dwonfilm · 5 months

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Come hell or high water. | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Looming over the Winchesters and [Y/N] is the war between heaven and hell. Dean will ultimately be faced with a choice he’d never be able to make. What will happen?

This will be a multi-part story, not necessarily set in a specific season but around 4-5 (verging on 6 now) would be the best fit.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of alcoholism, violence, sadness.

Mentions: Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Bobby Singer, Crowley, other made-up characters to further the plot.

Here’s Part IV if you haven’t read.

Flashbacks are in bold.

Part V:

It had been about a year since Lucifer had ruined Dean’s life. At least.. he thought it was a year. Honestly? He’d given up trying to keep track of time after a month. Frankly if Sam wasn’t keeping the tally on where or when or how.. Dean had no clue. Well.. that wasn’t the entire truth. There was one thing that he could keep track of and that was the alcohol cabinet. It ran out far more often over the course of the last year than it ever had. Sam tried, several times in fact, to get his brother to sober up. Every couple months like clockwork the younger Winchester would try to pick up more pieces of his older brother’s life. Today had just so happened to coincide with that schedule. Sam sighed, walking into the dank motel room that the brothers had been sharing for a few days. They’d been in Phoenix for a couple of days and once this case had come up, Sam knew it was gonna be hard. [Y/N] was from Arizona and having to face this state without her would be hard for them, of course more so for Dean. “Did you bring more whiskey?” Dean’s words were slurring together slightly, but it wasn’t anything that Sam wasn’t used to—there was hardly a day that went by where his older brother wasn’t drinking himself to the point of blacking out.

“Dean, you can’t help me hunt this thing if you’re shitfaced.” Sam again sighed, because as much as he meant that, he knew better than to come back without the booze. He’d tried that a couple of times during the first few months of her absence. Once in New Orleans and the other in Houston. Both times had resulted in fists being thrown. Louisiana was the time where the punch connected, Dean nailing his baby brother square in the jaw—apologizing for it immediately after. Texas had him shoving Sam into the wall and holding him there before breaking down into a fit of tears. “Mhm, yeah, the hell I can’t.” Again Dean’s words slurred into one another and he pulled his hand over his face. “Sammy.. I can’t. I can’t be here knowing that she isn’t with us.. I can’t be here knowing that and be sober. I promise you I’ll lay off on it next case.. please. I can’t do it here.” Dean sighed, his voice raspy and raw with emotion. It was the most sober sentence that he’d uttered in a long time. Sam moved across the room to the bed that was his brother’s for the time being and sat on the edge. Next to it on the nightstand was an empty bottle of Jack Daniels. “Dean I know this is hard but..” he paused, not wanting to push his brother but this isn’t healthy and at this rate he was killing his liver and quick. “..this isn’t what [Y/N] would want for you, man. She-“ Dean’s gaze shot upward and the bloodshot nature of his eyes was made clear.

“Don’t. Don’t use her for your own personal gain here.” Again his words sloshed together and Sam just looked at him. “My personal gain? Dean the only thing I’m trying to gain here is my brother not killing himself by drowning in alcohol. She wouldn’t want you killing yourself and making yourself more vulnerable to the shit we hunt day in and day out. I know she was your girlfriend, I know she was the love of your life but she was like my sister and I loved her too.” For so long Sam had buried his own grief, his own guilt for letting [Y/N] make that call and letting her leave, his sadness about not only losing someone he cared deeply for but living every single day to watch his brother killing himself slowly. “I promised her I’d take care of you, Dean.” Sam’s voice was just barely above a whisper. He’d expected his older brother to yell, to shove him off of the bed where they sat, to have yet another heated argument with Dean. What Sam wasn’t expecting however was the deep sigh and the shakiness of his brother’s voice when he did speak. “I know.. I’m sorry Sammy.” Dean’s voice was small, it was clear that they both had used the little bit of silence to begin crying. Another silence washed over the two brothers and it stayed like that for a number of minutes.

“I’m worried about you, Dean. I don’t say these things to make you feel shitty man, I just know she wouldn’t want this for you and I don’t want it either. Cas is working a lead that may be able to help us with getting her back, but right now we need to help these families. I’ve been going over some of these details in my head and I think it might be a witch.” Sam explained, but this only had Dean’s irritation return. “Great. We just had to come to Arizona and it just had to be a witch. Someone up there’s got a real sick sense of humor!” He shouted, looking up knowing that if the angels were still tuned in, they’d have heard him. Sam couldn’t help but sigh softly, it really seemed like the world was stacking the deck. However that was nothing new. “It’s late man, try to get some sleep. I’m gonna look some more and see if there’s something I missed—hell maybe I’m wrong.” It wasn’t likely that he was and both of them knew that. “Yeah, alright.” Sam stood up from the bed and moved over to the little table in the corner of the room. Dean reached into his bag, grabbing the same flannel he’d taken everywhere else. When it started to lose the smell of her, he’d spray it with her perfume. He’d just done so last week, so the smell was strong. Laying it between his arms he would slowly sink down to a laying position. Resting his head on part of the fabric and letting the exhaustion and drunkenness take him to sleep.

It was summer, they’d had a surprisingly quiet week. Sam was at Stanford and so the only person that Dean had except for his dad was [Y/N]. They were laid on Baby’s hood, the night slowly enveloping the daytime sky. It was a good week too, they hadn’t really fought much. Right now they’re just enjoying each other’s company and gazing up at the stars. “I think it’s so funny, we’re so small physically in the world and yet we alter it for the better almost every single day.” [Y/N] spoke softly, her [Y/E/C] eyes fixated upon the sunset overhead. Dean turned on his side to face her with a smirk upon his features. “Sweetheart we both know there’s nothing ‘little’ about me.” Dean replied, winking quickly at her. He was met with a smack to the shoulder while she chuckled softly. “Not what I meant, idiot.” She replied, turning her head to face him. Dean’s expression feigned hurt but he was smiling through the mock ‘offence’. His green eyes flicked upward for a moment to watch the sky darken. “I know, sometimes it feels like we should be welcomed into these towns with a party.” He spoke, sighing softly. “You mean like a hero’s welcome?” [Y/N] asked. Dean simply nodded. “I mean.. we probably should. If even half of the world knew what was really out there.. this entire planet would freak. People like us have been.. we’ve had our whole lives taken from us in a sense and yet we just.. keep going.” Now Dean turned his attention back to [Y/N]. “You mean to tell me you’d wanna be normal?” He asked, quirking his brow. She sighed before looking back up to the sky. “I don’t know.. I was never given the chance to know what normal looked like—this is all I’ve ever known.”

Things got quiet for a little while but Dean’s eyes kept finding their way over to [Y/N]. “If you have a question, you can just ask.” She spoke softly, not moving her gaze from the stars that were now making their appearance in the sky. He never knew how she did that—just knew what he was thinking in a way that wasn’t invasive or supernatural. She just.. knew him. “Did you.. did you think about hanging it up before you met me? After.. your dad?” Dean’s tone was soft, he didn’t bring up [Y/N]’s father much because it was obviously a sensitive subject. She released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and slowly looked over to meet his gaze. “Did the thought cross my mind? Sure. I was younger, you know probably could’ve scammed my way into some college.” She sighed. “I also was distraught and sad and not thinking with much clarity. By the time you and your dad showed up, I was already convincing myself to look for work. Maybe fate brought you to me.” [Y/N] smiled as she reached over towards Dean, her hand gently cupping his face. She knew he was in his head too much, probably trying to blame himself for keeping her from a ‘normal’ life. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Dean had woken up as her lips touched his, that was a memory that he’d forgotten he had. Sighing, he squeezed his eyes closed to get rid of the tears he knew had built up quickly. Rolling over he looked at the clock. 7:45AM. Turning around he saw that at some point Sam had gone to bed. There was no way he was going back to sleep now nor did he want to, so he opted to take a shower. There was the beginnings of a headache coming on, because for the first time in.. god knows how long he’d actually taken a break in drinking alcohol. Time had gotten away from him until he heard knocking on the bathroom door. “Hey man, leave some hot water for me.” Sam spoke before walking back to the table to get back to work. After a couple minutes Dean emerged from the bathroom and took a glance at the clock. 8:45AM. He turned towards his younger brother to see him eating, a breakfast burrito on the opposite side of the table for him. “Thanks.” He spoke up before sitting in the other chair and unwrapping the food. “No problem.” He responded before taking a bite of his own food, immediately after leaning closer to his screen. “So, unfortunately, I was right. This is definitely a witch.” Sam said, using his touchpad to scroll further down on whatever he was reading. Dean groaned before taking his first bite of the burrito. While he ate, Sam went over the details of the case and where they’d have to go in order to get more answers.

They’d found the witch, who was killing people for their hearts—collecting them to use in some kind of dark spell to grant her and her coven immortality and power. Sam and Dean had located her home after noticing a pattern with where the bodies had been found by police. This house had a storm cellar and it was likely that she was taking her victims down there to extract their hearts. Despite keeping quiet, somehow the witch had been alerted to their presence. “Sam and Dean Winchester. I should’ve known you’d be on my trail.” She spoke, turning away from the woman who she’d kidnapped. “Yeah well, if you know who we are you should know this little killing spree you’re on is finished.” Dean spoke, his gun aimed at the witch. Sam had his gun aimed too and the witch turned fully to face the brothers. “Is that so?” She asked, an eery smile upon her lips. “We can spare the song and dance cause no one’s interested.” Dean spoke up again. It was clear that his nerves were at the end of their rope. Sam didn’t necessarily disagree with his brother but the tension was getting worse. “I mean, we could.. but then I couldn’t mention the fact that I have very powerful friends.” She continued. “Why would we care who your friends are?” Sam asked, confused that this was the plan to try and get them to spare her life. “I have a spell for immortality and power growth, doesn’t that make you think about what other powerful spells my coven possesses? Ones that could maybe, free trapped people?” She continued and suddenly it clicked in Sam’s brain. “Don’t.” He warned the witch.

Dean quirked a brow but didn’t turn or move, keeping his eyes and his aim on the witch. “What? You don’t want to help your brother?” She asked, the younger Winchester getting increasingly irritated. “What are you talking about?” Dean asked, which caused Sam to groan. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid. “People talk, people whisper. I’ve heard all sorts of things about you two—two who used to be three.” Dean’s stomach twisted in knots. It was clear what she’d been hinting at now and it left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. Sam’s protective instincts took over and he pushed his way in front of his brother. “That’s enough.” Sam warned, his nerves being pushed. However this witch knew that she was in a matter of living or dying and wasn’t going to give up so easy. “What? Hey, if you want to leave her suffer in the pits of hell.. that’s cold but I support it.” Dean winced at this statement. He spent so many nights restless, wondering what kinds of torture Lucifer was making [Y/N] endure—knowing full well that he loved the emotional side of things almost as much as the physical. “I said that’s enough.” Sam repeated, knowing that despite his older brother having a hatred for witches, he’d very likely do anything to free [Y/N]. “You think I’m just trying to keep myself alive, but like I said I know lots of powerful witches. There’s a spell out there that can help. You just have to come back with me. I help you, you help me. We’ll get [Y/N] and—“ Suddenly the witch dropped to the ground, dead. Sam had heard enough and once her name was spoken it was the final straw. Dean moved to free the girl who had almost been another victim, getting her out of there.

Six months later.

Fort Wayne, Indiana—the boys had just finished a hunt. Vamps nest was completely wiped out. After cleaning up, Sam basically forced Dean to go to the local bar. Not because he wanted anything from his brother but he knew that today marked a year and a half since [Y/N] was forced to go to hell alongside Lucifer. Staying in the motel room would only mean that Dean would get too in his head. Sam was hoping that the music and the pool alongside a bit of alcohol would be enough to keep his mind at bay, at least for a little while. Dean sat in a booth sipping his beer while Sam had gone for refills. There was a blonde who’d been eyeing Dean every so often, clearly interested in something. Seeing that he was alone she figured it was the best time to approach him. Confidently she walked over to the table, swaying her hips just a bit with each step. Once she reached the booth she paused, seeing if Dean would react in any way to her presence. About a minute went by and he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even turned his head to look in her direction. She cleared her throat which broke Dean from his daze. “Can I help you?” He asked flatly, looking up at the woman for a brief few seconds before gazing forward again. “I was just wondering if I could join you, you seem lonely over here.” She tucked some of her blonde hair behind her ear. “I’ll pass.” He stated plainly, hoping that Sam would be back any moment. It was clear her confidence took a blow but she was trying to remain determined. “C’mon.. I’ll get you a refill. What would it hurt to get to know one another?” She continued and it looked like Dean was about to snap but Sam finally approached the booth. “My brother said no, so, go back to whatever you were doing.”

Scoffing the blonde turned on her heel and walked back to her table and friends. Sam slid the fresh beer over towards his brother and sighed before sitting down. “Sorry, I never thought about that.” He spoke up, lifting the glass bottle to his lips. “About what?” Dean asked, but then he clued in. “It’s fine. I never thought about the possibility either. Usually..” Now it was the older brother’s turn to sigh. Usually [Y/N] would either scare the girls off altogether, making it obvious she and Dean were an item or she’d tell them off directly—hell she’d even fist fought a couple. Sam felt bad and in this moment was questioning whether dragging Dean out was doing more harm than good. He watched as the eldest of the two took a swig of the beer he’d been handed. Time ticked, a few minutes of silence between the brothers where the noises of the bar took hold. Suddenly Sam’s phone rang, so he flipped it open to answer the call. “Hey Bobby, what’s up?” He spoke, Dean’s mind having him only paying half attention. It had been several minutes since his brother spoke and that finally had Dean’s full attention. “What is it?” He asked, the expression on his younger brother’s face unreadable. “Yeah that was Dean, he’s with me.” Sam replied, to Bobby, with Dean leaning forward to attempt to hear whatever the conversation was about but he the table stopped him from getting too close. “Sam.” Dean said sternly, trying to get the information. He held up one finger to try and get his brother to wait. “Yeah, alright. We’ll be on our way. Bye.” Sam closed his phone and looked at his brother but the expression was still blank.

“Sam what’s going on?” Dean’s tone laced with worry, confusion and a couple other emotions. “We need to go to Bobby’s—now.” He replied before standing up and beginning to walk towards the door. Blinking a bit, the older of the two was still in a sort of a daze. “Dean! Come on!” Sam called out, which had his brother sliding out the booth and quickly catching up to his younger brother. They walked to the impala and Sam got in the driver’s side, leaving Dean to get into the passenger seat. Flicking his wrist now, Baby’s engine purred to life and the younger Winchester pulled out of the parking space and onto the road. First they had to stop at the motel to grab their stuff and check out. Sam took the duty of loading up their things while he gave Dean the key to return to the office. He’d ran the key back and thanked them for the room before returning to Sam who was just closing the trunk. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Dean asked, resting his forearms on Baby’s roof. Sam was double checking that he had everything before closing the door to the room. “Sam!” He exclaimed, causing the taller of them to turn towards his brother. “What Dean?!” His mind had been racing ever since he hung up from the call with Bobby. “Are you gonna clue me in? Why do we need to rush to Bobby’s?” Sam knew his brother was right to ask, it wasn’t like him to keep things from his older brother but it wasn’t his call—he also wasn’t sure on things. Hell Bobby wasn’t sure either. “I.. I’m not sure if it’s something and Bobby asked me to just get there, with you, as fast as we can.” He explained, fidgeting with the keys to the impala in his hand.

Dean was confused, searching his younger brother’s eyes for any kind of hint as to what was so important. He wanted to argue, wanted to push for more information but at the end of the day he trusted Bobby. “Okay.” He said, pulling on the handle and getting into the passenger seat. “Okay.” Sam mirrored, slipping into the drivers side yet again and backing out from the motel and taking off down the road. Sioux Falls was their destination and if they could make it without any stops that would be best. Dean’s mind was racing—it could be so many different things. They had so much going on that it was hard to pinpoint what issue Bobby had cracked or what he was getting close to cracking. Man their lives were a mess, a chaotic and insane mess that most humans would never be able to grasp. Sam had a firm grip on the wheel as he drove, which he’d been doing most of the time over the last year and a half. Often times Dean had too much whiskey in his system and honestly, his older brother wasn’t putting up much of a fight about it. When it came time to drive to a different state, Dean was close to the point of blacking out anyway. Most drives during this time was Sam being alone with his thoughts while Dean passed out and slept. Slept until a nightmare woke him up, or sometimes worse, a dream that felt so real that Dean forgot [Y/N] was gone. Those hit him the hardest, the realization that she was in hell along with the sobriety like an 18 wheeler running him down. Nightmares were a toss up. It was either stress and trauma from his own time in hell or it was imagining what kind of suffering that [Y/N] was being forced to endure. Sam wished he could do more, but all he could do was offer moral support and watch.

It was almost two days later by the time that Sam and Dean were pulling into Bobby’s yard. Neither of the brothers could pinpoint where it came from, or when, but their anxiety was piqued. Neither of them really knew what they were walking into but both of them basically sprinted up the steps and knocked once before walking into the house. “Hello boys.” Sam and Dean both wide eyed when they saw Crowley sitting in the living room. “W-what are you doing here?” Sam asked, Dean wasting no time and drawing his gun. “Where’s Bobby?” Dean demanded, but his question was answered immediately after when the older man walked in with a couple of books. “Dammit, boy. Put that thing away.” Bobby spoke to Dean, which had a look of confusion cross the eldest Winchester’s face. “What?” He asked, looking at Singer. “Put the goddamn gun away if you wanna get down to it. We don’t got much time.” Bobby replied, flipping through the pages of one of the books he’d brought in. “What does Crowley have to do with things?” Sam asked, to which the King of Hell laughed. His gaze shifting between both of the brothers before speaking. “Well I’m here to help you lot bust [Y/N] out of Hell.”

Author’s note: Hi! Sorry if the chapters are getting shorter, I can’t tell, but I feel like the story is still being told sufficiently. I still haven’t decided how many parts this will be but I know for the most part where I’m taking it but just wanted to add that in—I feel like the first couple chapters were longer. I guess the lengths just vary with what I’m trying to convey. Hope you guys enjoy! 😊

• —– ٠ tag list: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester ✤ ٠ —– • ·

#dean winchester #dean x reader #fanfic #supernatural #dean winchester imagines #spn #spn imagines #dean winchester x reader #fanfics

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wellplacedbanana · 10 months

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I’ve seen a few posts recently talking about how important it is for us to share our tips for dealing chronic illness with each other, and I’ve realized that as a freakishly avid community enthusiast, I’ve been falling down on the job. So, I present

Wellplacedbanana’s Ridiculously Long List of Tips for All Things Chronic Illness (Curated Over 8+ Years):

Infusion Centers

Headed to an infusion center to get that sweet sweet (expensive as hell) live-saving medication pumped directly into your veins? Here’s what I do.

Bring headphones or earplugs. Most infusion centers try to maintain a semblance of quiet for the patients, but it can get loud fast—beeping IVs, pulse ox monitors, loud families, codes. Some infusion centers do pods of multiple people and some do individual bays, so this can affect noise levels.

Drink lots of water before if you have to get an IV placed. Don’t worry too much about bringing a water bottle because they’ll give you one when you get there. (Of course, if you have something like POTS and need more intense hydration, bring the damn water bottle.) If you’re not hydrated and they can’t find a vein, they’ll call in the ultrasound tech, and they’ll bring the longest IV needle you’ve ever seen. It hurts. Drink water.

Bring a book or your Switch or something else to entertain you, but don’t expect to actually do it. I tried bringing papers to edit the first time because I was like “Oh it’s an hour and a half of uninterrupted free time. I can get so much done!” I was wrong. The nurses are constantly checking in for vitals, the unit can be loud, and I spent the whole time trying not to vomit everywhere. Different infusions will have different side affects. Knowing what yours might be will help you plan for what you want to bring. Knowing how long your infusion will be can also help. Most infusion centers have to keep you 20-45 minutes after your first dose of a new medication to make sure you don’t have an allergic reaction, so factor that into your time too.

If you’re in a pod with other patients who’re friendly and if you feel up to it, don’t be afraid to talk with them. Lots of them are lonely, bored, interested in other people, etc. I met an elderly Thai lady one time who had been there for three hours and would be there for another four AFTER I left. We talked about her husband and her kids, and she listened to me talk about punctuation as style in prose. It made me feel less alone in the medical system and helped distract me from the nausea.

Conversely, if you don’t want to interact with anyone, snap on those headphones and block everything out. The nurses will get your attention if they need you. Don’t worry about staying lucid. Your job is to get the infusion and do what’s best for you.

You can bring snacks if you want, but most units/centers will have something to munch on or can order you something from the cafeteria if you’re at a hospital. Also the medication and the smells in the unit always make me nauseous, so it’s kind of a waste for me to bother pulling together food before I leave. You can always eat before or plan to get something on the way back. Going through a drive thru to get something with protein is my go to.

If possible, schedule your next appointment while you’re there. I have to go every three months, so I schedule the next one while I’m there, and then I never have to make any fucking phone calls. Phone calls are the worst.

My last and most important tip: ask the nurses when you need something. Blankets, water, snacks, pain meds, the lights turned off. If they can’t do it, they’ll tell you. They’d rather have you ask and have to say no, then you be uncomfortable. Don’t suffer if there might be a solution.

Dealing with Shitty Doctors

There are shitty doctors everywhere, in every specialty and every hospital system. It sucks, and you can do your best to avoid them, but most chronically ill patients will have to put up with one at some point. Here are my suggestions:

If they’re refusing to acknowledge one of your symptoms is a problem (won’t order tests, won’t refer you out, won’t ask any questions), tell them it’s affect your Activities of Daily Living. ADLs are one of the ways doctors measure severity of symptoms and quality of life. ADLs are the absolutely essential things you need to do to be a functioning human: eat, shower, get dressed, brush your teeth. ADLs are a trigger word for most doctors. Physical therapists and occupational therapists were created specifically to help patients achieve their ADLs. If you’re having severe joint paint, say it’s affecting you’re ability to shower and dress in the morning. If you have intense fatigue, say you’re too tired all the time to cook food to eat or even brush your teeth before bed. Tell them your symptoms are affecting your quality of life and your ability to function daily. This won’t always work, but it’s a good starting place. (A side note: if you have have to submit an insurance appeal for something that was denied, citing ADLs as a reason to receive the treatment/medical equipment/doctors visit, will often spur them into action. Sometimes, it’ll just make them ask more questions, but questions are better than flat out denial. This was a very helpful tactic when I was trying to get my manual wheelchair approved. I told them I was unable to complete my ADLs and it was affecting my quality of life, and they eventually came around. It’s also important to remember that ADLs are only the most base tasks that you need to live. Driving, working, socializing—those aren’t included in ADLs, and insurance especially will laugh in your face if you try to say you need medical equipment for something like that.)

Lots of doctors, consciously or unconsciously, will judge how you’re actually feeling by your mood in an appointment. I had a pediatric neurologist who couldn’t be convinced that my pain was at an 8 because I would laugh with my mom in the waiting room. Eight months in, I started getting real quiet, not talking, crying when he talked, all that shit, and he was so fucking flummoxed. He was like “what changed?? Are you depressed??” And I had to remind him that I was thirteen with a severe shoulder inure that hurt every time I breathed. Doctors will judge you based on how you look and how you present. It’s horrible, but it’s true. Present to them in the way that represents what they’d expect to see for your symptoms.

Whatever you do, don’t say anything (or send any snappy messages) that might be considered aggressive until you are absolutely, 100% positive you will never ever have to see them again. I’ve had a few doctors that said ridiculously horrible things to me. It’s tempting to send them a message about how shitty they’ve been or how much they’ve hurt you, but it won’t help. Shitty doctors have fragile egos and they don’t like to be challenged. They won’t take this well, and they’ll mark you as attention seeking, emotional, mentally unstable—you name it. When your other doctors call to ask questions about symptoms, etc, they’ll start talking shit, and everything gets complicated. This might sound dramatic to anyone who hasn’t seen it happen, but honestly, the medical system abuses emotion and mental illness to discard patients that aren’t afraid to advocate for themselves, and this is one of the least immoral ways they do it.

Remember that you don’t owe your doctors anything (except basic human decency). If they ask you to do something and you can’t or don’t want to, don’t. My psychiatrist was really fixated on me getting a light box to cure my depression. I did Not want to do that, so I didn’t. Sometimes, your doctors won’t move on to further treatment or tests until you try it, but most of the time you can say, “that’s not something I’m able to do right now. Let’s explore further options,” and they’ll move on.

Remember that learning to advocate for yourself takes years of practice. Just do your best, and try not to blame yourself for the ways you get mistreated. Therapy is the best investment I’ve ever made for this. It’s helped me learn how to advocate and how to process medical trauma.

Medication

For gods sake, take the as needed medication when you have a migraine or if you’re nauseous. Don’t punish yourself.

This might seem like a no brainer, but if you’re traveling and you’re going to take your medication bottles with you, put them in a ziplock bag. They will definitely open in your suitcase, and you’ll have to pick Levothyroxine out of your socks.

If a medication gives you icky side effects, tell your doctor and ask if there’s something that doesn’t do that. For me personally, it’s hard to find medication that works at all, so I often get stuck with things that make me feel like shit. But it doesn’t hurt to ask. Sometimes new medications come out or they dig up old ones.

Some medications come in dissolvable tablets or suppositories. They’re not fun, but if you have trouble swallowing pills, this is a good way to go. Again, communicate with your doctor about these things. I know that there are Scopolamine patches for nausea too. I’ve never used them before, but it might be worth looking into if need easy nausea relief.

All Things Wheelchair

Man, wheelchairs suck, but they’re also amazing. If you find yourself using one, you’ll encounter a steep learning curve.

If you’re not super buff when you first start, it’ll seem impossible to go up even a slight incline. Your arms will get stronger the more you move around, but it might take time. I eventually bit the bullet and started doing personal training. I’m lucky that I can afford it, and I know it’s not an option for everyone, but if you can, find a trainer who won’t saying anything shitty and who’s willing to accommodate. I worked with a queer-owned gym to find someone I was comfortable with. We do upper body strength training, and it gives me a chance to move my body more often. I still can’t go up big hills, but I feel infinitely more mobile. Give yourself time to adjust to the new strain on your body, even if you don’t do training for it. You’ll be sore in the beginning. Ice and heat will be your friends after long days. If your wrists start hurting a lot, you’re not wheeling correctly, and you should ask your doctor for a referral to PT or OT. Oh and your hands will be fucked for the first few weeks. I bought special wheelchair gloves to try to combat this, but it just made it harder for me to maneuver. Now I only use the gloves if it’s cold, if I’m going down hills, or in the rain/snow. (But seriously, if you’re going down steep hills, use traction gloves.)

Learn to pop a wheelie as soon as possible. It’s such a helpful skill. If you get good enough, you’ll be able to get up over single steps and traverse shitty pavement.

If your wheelchair has a cushion, then it has a cushion cover. Wash it.

Time for the grossest part: cutting hair out of your caster wheels. I hate this. I hate it so much. It’s fucking disgusting, but you have to do it. It’ll fuck up your wheels and make it harder to maneuver. Also it’s just gross to have all that nasty hair hanging out by your feet. Get yourself a long pair of thin scissors and cut all that hair out every week or every two weeks. If you don’t have long hair or live with people who have long hair, then you might be able to wait longer. You should also sanitize your hand rims while you’re at it. Hand sanitizer or Clorox wipes are great for this.

You’ll notice that it’s fucking impossible to carry shopping baskets or suitcases if you use a manual chair. Some people try to balance them on their laps or wedge them onto their footplates, but it’s pretty precarious. I got these weird peg things that attach to the frame. You can place a basket or your bag on it and still keep your hands free. Here’s the link for the ones I got, but it depends on your make and model, so do some research and call some different companies before buying anything. Also, make sure to measure the distance between the two sides of your frame to make sure a basket will be able to balance on the two pegs. Your frame might be too wide for this. Mine is, but I bought a special basket to take to the store that’s wide enough to reach across.

Lots of people will offer to push you. Some won’t even offer; they’ll just grab on and take you in whatever direction. It’s insanely invasive and dehumanizing. Don’t be afraid to put on your breaks if someone does this. I can stand and take small steps, so sometime I just get up and stare at them. You can also buy covers for your handles that have spikes so people can’t grab them. I know some wheelchair users who like it when people offer to push them. That’s good too! Take the help if you want it. Just remember to prioritize your safety and comfort. I had a big debate with another disabled person about whether it was infantilizing for someone to offer to hold open the door for us. I’m firmly on the side that they can offer, and I can say no, and they can listen, and then we can both appreciate the moment of shared humanity between us. They did not agree. Disabled people fight and disagree all the time because we’re not all carbon copies of each other. That’s okay! Just be respectful.

Getting a customized manual wheelchair was one of the single most stressful things I had to deal with. Insurance doesn’t like to pay for them because it’s about 3-12k, depending on the specifications and add-ons. But it’s also been the most liberating thing I’ve done since getting my mobility stripped from me. I’m not sure how it works for everyone, but I got a referral from my doctor to a custom wheelchair company. From there, they took measurements, discussed needs, and showed me different models. It’s going to be really really difficult to know what you want the first time. There’s a lot of different brands and customizations, so do your research and talk in depth with whoever’s making your chair. Ultra lite rigid frames are my favorite because they’re usually only 15-40 pounds, and the wheels can come off to make it even lighter. However, rigid frames don’t fold together in the middle like classic manual wheelchairs that you might find at a hospital or get at a rental company. They can be difficult to fit in the backseat of a car or in some trunks, so make sure to measure any cars you ride in regularly. Some people prefer to have tilted wheels so they can turn easier. Some people don’t want anything to do with that. Depending on your mobility and the people in your life, you might choose not to add push handles to your chair. I added some to mine because I often get dizzy, and it’s helpful to have handles in case I need someone to push me out of the crosswalk or into the shade. People who are highly independent and extremely strong might not want push handles because they won’t need help up steep hills. I like my handles a lot; however, my chair back is shorter than a standard wheelchair because it helps increase range of motion when I’m wheeling, so my push handles are lower than normal, and anyone who wants to push me has to hunch a bit to reach. Again, do your research and talk to your rep before making final decisions. Some companies will let you test out the chairs they have on hand to see what you like. It’s important to work with a wheelchair company you really like because you’re literally putting you life in their hands. I’ve had better luck with smaller, locally-owned companies, but you can’t always get referrals there, and not every town has them. Here’s my tip to you: Numotion sucks ass. Avoid them. My branch of Numotion seems to be an outlier; I’ve had really good experiences with them. But most of the time, its impossible to get ahold of anyone, their hours are few and random, and their customer service reps are rude. But! After you’ve completed your order form—gotten measurements and found customizations—they’ll submit it to insurance. This is the tricky part. I went through four appeals, before I got mine approved. Luckily, I had insurance through my mom’s job, and after the last appeal, her company told the insurance that they had to pay for it. This won’t be the case with everyone. Be diligent with your appeals. Have your doctors write specific, clear letters about why you need it, including information about all the customizations and add-ons. It’s likely that they’ll only pay for the base chair, and you’ll have to pay out of pocket for any extra things. Another note: most insurance companies will only pay for a new chair once every five years (if they approve the first one at all), so be sure that the chair you pick out will work for you for at least the next five and a half years.

I had an advisor in college tell me something devastating once: there is no AAA for wheelchairs. I’d broken a caster wheel and gotten stuck on a university sidewalk in 102 degree heat, and she was telling me about her own experiences getting stranded after one of her tires popped. She’s right; if you’re wheelchair breaks, you’re stuck wherever you are without any backup. Carry your phone with you. Tell your friends or family where you’re going before you leave. Familiarize yourself with the wheelchair repairs shops in your area. Sometimes places like bike shops will be able to help you fix smaller things. I always carry an Allen wrench with me in case I need to take a part off. And don’t worry; you’ll find that if something does go wrong, people are far more willing to help than you’d expect. One of the sculpture professors in the art department found me that day and went back to his workshop to get all his tools. He brought me water and sat in the sun while he tried to fix my wheel, and when he couldn’t, he offered to drive me wherever I needed to go. This man was a tenured professor with a prestigious MFA, and he was running late for a party where he was supposed to be handing out awards. You’ll find lots of good people when things inevitably go to shit.

Going along with the last point, your wheelchair will break, and you will have to send it into the shop to get repairs. If you can, invest in a cheap manual chair that you can use in emergencies. If you live with other people, you can buy a transport chair for cheaper, but you’ll need someone around to push you because it won’t have hand rims.

If you’re new to wheelchair use, give yourself space to feel all the emotions. When I first started, I had been using an office chair(!) to get around. My mom would push me from my bed to the bathroom and then back to bed while we waited to get a rental. I was so relieved when I got my own chair that I pushed everything else down. It took months to allow myself to be sad about all the things I couldn’t do anymore and be angry about all the inaccessible infrastructure that America has. Don’t push it down. Talk to a therapist or find people in the community to discuss it with. (If I choose to talk about my frustrations with friends, I always start with “I need to vent right now, and I’m grateful you’re willing to listen to me, but I’m not looking for any solutions to this at the moment,” or “can you give me some suggestions to work around these things that are frustrating me?” This gives my friends insight into what I need, instead of making them guess. It keeps us both from getting frustrated, and I highly suggest it, especially if you or your friends have trouble navigating social situations/expectations.)

Hand Controls

Hand controls are great option for your car if you’re unable to use your feet to drive. I got mine about a year back, but it was tricky and really confusing at first.

First thing you need to know: you can’t get hand controls without a prescription from a specialist. Usually a certain type of occupational therapist. You can look up driving rehab OTs in your area, but there aren’t many of them, and lots of the time you’ll have to drive several hours to see one. There’s usually a long wait list as well. (And of course, a lot of them don’t take insurance.)

If you’re able to find someone who’s certified, they’ll do an intake appointment and assess your physical abilities and needs. Sometimes, they’ll do the assessment and decide you aren’t fit to use hand controls. This can be for a multitude of reasons, including impaired mental cognition and slow reaction time, issues with hand or arm mobility, or there might be a better way to adapt a car for you. Again, it varies greatly on the person, and I’m not an OT, so I don’t know all the ins and outs. If you pass the assessment, and they view you got to drive with hand controls, you’ll be required to do a certain amount of training where you practice using different equipment. Some OTs will know what you need to use right away, and others will have you try different things out to see what fits best. There’s a lot of types of hand controls and a lot of adaptations that can be done to a car, so it really depends on the person. My training was only about 15 hours (plus independent driving practice), but it’ll depend on whether this is your first time ever driving, if you’ve driven without hand controls before, and if you have any other medical issues that might make it hard for you to adapt. Once you’ve completed the training and received your certificate from the OT, they’ll write a prescription to send to a shop that does specialty car adaptation. Kind of like wheelchairs, the shop you go to is very important. Ask your OT if they have any favorites in the area. Insurance never covers this, and some shops will way overcharge you if you’re not careful. My hand controls were about 3k out of pocket, but it was definitely worth it. It would’ve been a lot more to add other adaptations like a lift or a ramp, but sometimes you can buy used accessible vans for cheaper than adding it to your own car. Something to know: you’re usually able to turn your hand controls on and off. So if your friend needs to borrow your car, or you need to let a mechanic test drive it, you can disable to hand controls and allow someone else to use the foot pedals as normal.

Overall, it’s a very long, very expensive process, so plan ahead and be prepared to wait and pay.

Navigating Raising a Kid with Chronic Illnesses

I don’t have any kids, but my mom was my sole caretaker growing up, and I can offer you some of her thoughts. You have to remember that no matter what age your kid is, chronic illness is an impossible thing for them to deal with, and yet they have to deal with it anyways. Sometimes, there’s no good way to comfort a child who’s in 10/10 pain, or who’s about to undergo a life-altering procedure. All you can do is your best. Communicate. Offer support. Give affection. Make your love unconditional. I was a very angry teenager. I was angry with my mom that she couldn’t fix it, and I was angry with my doctors for the way they treated me. There were days where I would yell and sob and refuse to take my meds, and there where days where I would stare at the wall and not respond to anything. It drove my mom up the wall. She’s used to fixing things, and this was one of those things she couldn’t even help. I know she stills holds a lot of guilt for this, but she shouldn’t. She did her best. You’re doing your best too. You can’t fix everything. That being said, here are her suggestions:

Therapy, therapy, therapy. They might hate it, but some day, they’ll thank you. Remember that not every therapist is right for every patient. If your kid wants to switch to a different therapist, let them. It’s better than them sitting and not speaking the whole session.

Lots of kids with developing rare undiagnosed diseases will go through this vicious cycle where they get a new symptom, get sent to a specialist, get dismissed, and then develop a new symptom and start the process all over again. It’s not easy. My mom was a fan of throwing Pity Parties. Every once in a while, when the grind of it all started making us feel hopeless, she’d take me to the store and say, “pick out snacks and drinks. We’re going to throw a pity party, gorge on sugar, watch Lord of the Rings, feel bad for ourselves, and tomorrow, we’ll dust ourselves off and try again.” It helped. It was good to know that sometimes you can let life feel unfair, and it was even better to know that the next day it would be easier to try again.

A lot of being chronically ill as a kid is getting decisions stripped from you and having unexpected negative experiences. My mom would try to do spontaneous things every once in a while to remind me that not all surprises are bad. Instead of driving straight home after school one Friday, she took me to Starbucks without saying anything. After an MRI, she stopped at an art fair and let me pick out a necklace. We would go to the library after I spent the day in the hospital. Sometimes, she’d call my aunts while I was at school to come over and play card games on the weekends. And she was really big on giving me choices in everything. She never made me agree to new (non-lifesaving) treatment. Ever. If she really wanted me to do it, we’d talk it over and come to an agreement that made us both happy. Sick kids are forced into adulthood early; they know how to make calculated, logical decisions when needed. Let them be a part of their own healthcare. (They should also be given the chance to make rash, stupid decisions that have no bearing on their health.)

Keep track of everything. Doctors, meds, ER visits, PT exercises, diets they’ve tried for GI issues, everything about the surgeries they’ve undergone. Some day, you’ll need it. Or your kid will grow up into a chronically ill adult, and they’ll need it.

Talk to their school counselor about getting a 504 or IEP. Even if they’re not struggling. I was a super academically minded kid; I didn’t struggle to understand new concepts or complete homework correctly. But eventually it became hard for me to attend class and finish assignments. Having an IEP saved me. 504s are a lot easier to get (a lot less paperwork, less testing, less pushback from admin), but they’re not legally binding. If you want something concrete and all-encompassing, go for the IEP. IEPs are also really helpful when trying to get accommodations in college. You can also start with a 504 and switch to an IEP later. While we’re on the subject of school: remember that education is important, but school is not the end all be all of your child’s life. What should matter the most to you is that they end up safe and happy. I didn’t graduate high school; I took a proficiency test my junior year and dropped out. It was the best choice I could’ve made at the time, but it was still tough for my mom. I ended up going to college, and now I have a pretty solid job, but every kid will be different. Their mental and physical health is the most important. School is a huge huge huge stressor. Don’t make it harder for them than it already is.

Dating

God dating sucks enough on its own, but adding in chronic illness and disability just makes it a shit show. I don’t have a lot to offer on this other than you shouldn’t settle for anyone who doesn’t respect you, treat you with love and compassion, and accept every part of you for what it is. People will say rude shit. They’ll be nasty, fetishizing, infantilizing, dismissive. Some won’t be able to put up with all the things that come along with being ill. I sound like a broken record, but find a good therapist who can help you voice your needs and expectations clearly. Remember that you never have to go on a date if you don’t want to. Participate as you see fit. Throw it all out if you want.

I don’t have enough time to go into my tips for intimacy/sex and disability, but I’ll give you the highlights.

Communicate. Make it very clear what you’re able to do, what you’re interested in doing, and what you don’t want.

There are lots of ways to have sex. If you’re both having fun, being safe, and engaging consensually, then you’re doing it right. Don’t let abled bodied people tell you the way it should be done. There are lots of accessibility friendly toys to invest in, too.

As weird as it might sound, don’t be afraid to take breaks. Keep water near by. If you have POTS, keep salt or electrolyte tablets on hand. If you have to stop to vomit or go to the bathroom, don’t let it shame you. Go at your own pace and take care of your body.

Misc

Having seizures on a college campus: Most universities have a policy that if you lose consciousness while on campus, they have to call an ambulance. You are not required to ride in the ambulance. You can decline, and the paramedics will make you sign a form before leaving. If you’re still actively having seizures, then they’ll take you anyways, but you probably won’t be in any shape to try to decline. If you’re having seizures regularly, tell your professors. It’ll freak them the fuck out, so warn them ahead of time. It makes the whole thing a lot less awkward when you collapse in the aisle during a lecture. Related to that: communicate with your professors about all your accommodations and emergency health needs. They really honestly appreciate it when you talk to them about this stuff. Even if they have a big class and don’t remember you, it’s good to send them an email and introduce yourself. Hopefully, you’ve also talked to your college’s Disability Resource Center. If not, go do that. Now. (There’s a whole lot of shit that I have to say about campus accessibility and disability resource centers, but I’m not gonna go into it right now.) Also, wear your medical alert bracelet. I know they suck, but it sucks more for someone to be digging through your pants pocket while you’re seizing to try to find your wallet. And keep your emergency contact info pinned up somewhere in your dorm. I used to put mine on the fridge and point it out to my roommates at the beginning of term. It can take a while for RAs to pull yours up, so it’s best to make sure it’s easily accessible.

Remember that you do not function like a normal person. There is no wrong way to solve one of your problems. If you need to put a stool in your bathroom to sit at while you brush your teeth, do it. I got an extra tall stool to sit at while I cook at the stove because my wheelchair is too short. (Cooking in a wheelchair is another thing I could talk about forever.) If you need to wear a sleep mask on the bus because the light makes your migraine worse, do it. People can look at you funny all they want. Like I said, I rolled around my house in an office chair while I waited for a rental wheelchair. What I’m trying to say is find things that work and implement them, even if they’re non traditional.

Here’s what I pack in my bag for an ER visit: headphones, phone charger, book, zofran, Naproxen, water bottle, wallet with cash, socks, and sleep mask to block out the waiting room lights. If I’m expecting to be admitted, then I’ll pack more, but I try to keep it light if it’s just triage and a visit with the ER doctor. Sometimes I’ll stuff a granola bar or some almonds in there too.

My biggest tip for surviving hospital stays is to get out of your room (if possible). Go on walks around the unit. Some hospitals have little courtyards patients can sit in. If you’re in peds, go visit the rec room, even if it’s awkward. Their activities are usually meant for the younger kids, but it can be fun to connect with other people your age, and you’ll thank yourself later when you’re stuck in bed at 3am. Also, tell your friends to come visit you. Not everyone will be able to, but most people are happy to come hang out for an hour or two. It’ll help; I promise.

Clean your room every few weeks. Dear god, clean your room. I have trouble with executive functioning and finding energy to do housekeeping type stuff, but I get more depressed when my room is gross. So clean your room. Especially if you have hypersomnia/sleep excessively.

Don’t force yourself to use a pill organizer. I know everyone says it makes it easier, but I get overwhelmed when I have to refill it, and then I just don’t end up taking my meds. If it doesn’t work for you, don’t do it. If it does, then do it!

Don’t buy the self help books your therapist recommends unless you’re actually interested in reading them. It’ll just sit on your shelf and make you feel guilty for not being good enough.

Mental illness is tightly bound to physical illness. Try to be an active listener in your body. Sometimes, when I’ve been feeling really nauseous, my PSTD symptoms will get triggered over nothing, and it’ll frustrate the fuck out of me because it seems like it’s happening over nothing. I try to track when my emotional state is worse to see if it’s correlated to my physical symptoms. This helps curb the frustration and guilt. Sometimes it makes me dissociate more. It’s a balancing act. Just do your best.

Hobbies are so so so important. Make sure to give yourself time to work on them! And there are a million ways to adapt the activities you love if you’re having trouble, so don’t afraid to do some research. I know they have crochet hook grips for people with arthritis or loose grips, and there are super intense magnifying glasses for people who like to cross stitch and are having trouble seeing the tiny ass holes. I have a color blind friend who sends us pictures of paint to see if it’s the shade he wants. Very occasionally, you’ll come to the conclusion that there’s a hobby you can’t adapt. Let yourself be sad. I can’t hike anymore and it sucks. I can’t go tide-pooling either, and its not like if I just work really hard I’ll be able to do it some day. Life is shit, and sometimes you have to let things go. Be angry, be sad, tell people to fuck off if they try to turn you into inspiration porn, but also remember that there are lots of other cool things out there to try.

Going along with the hobby thing: take the time to learn ASL if you’re having trouble with your hearing or if you often go nonverbal. One of my friends had to get hearing aids last year, and we offered to learn with them, but they were hesitant because it feels like a non necessity to them. Something selfish that would take up all our time. If you think it’ll help, you should grant yourself the time to learn. Capitalism makes us think that we shouldn’t engage in activities unless we gain money or power from them, but that mindset will kill you. Your life will be infinitely easier if you learn ASL online with your partner or friends or siblings.

Look up Spoon Theory. It’s not a helpful metaphor for everyone, but most people in the community talk about it, so it’s good to be familiar with it.

Don’t be afraid to go out and find community! Find support groups, look up wheelchair sports if you’re into getting sweaty, brave the awkwardness of starting conversations with other patients in the clinic. I’m wholly and completely of the idea that humans are innately good. There are lots of interesting chronically ill/disabled people who’re looking for connection. Insurance companies and other medical entities rely on us feeling isolated, alone, and uniformed to continue making money and hold power. It’s important that we share with and support each other.

I know a lot of this is basic stuff, but it’s helpful to have reminders, and if you’re new to the whole song and dance, then it’s nice to get a sneak peak. There are a million things I didn’t get to, but this was what was on the top of my brain.

Also, I’m not the collective voice of every chronically ill person in the world. My experiences are not yours and they’re not everyone else’s. What works for me, might not work for you. Be kind.

#thanks to @thenarrativefoil for reminding me that we need to share with each other!!#if you have any suggestions for dealing with gastroparesis please hmu #I’m still waiting for my gastric emptying scan but I’d like to try out some of y’all’s tips #hopefully some of this is helpful to someone #chronic illness #chronic pain #disability #seizures #nausea #wheelchair user #ptsd #mental health #hand controls #medical insurance companies suck #therapy #so much talk of therapy #spoonie #if this is helpful to anyone I’ll make another

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bentosandbox · 4 months

Text

Ambience Synesthesia tutorial blog

rambled this out because I didn't have inflight wifi otw home and the turbulence was too crazy to draw

Buying the ticket

erm so they only dropped the tickets like slightly less than a month before lol kinda insane

The concert tickets were sold on Damai so you need a CN number or know/pay someone with one who'd buy it for you which is what I did by recommendation (A tier 1280 + 400 'service fee' [apparently it would have been cheaper if they only helped you half way or something but i wasnt gonna risk running into a payment hiccup so]) Iirc they sold it in two batches but I don't remember the ratio split between first and second wave…

I got a ticket for 5/5's afternoon show (so the second last performance), I DID meet an oomf who said they managed to snag a ticket for themselves on their own (without a Professional Ticket Snatcher) so its not too impossible to attain on your own I think??? (I didn't get a CN number until like 2 days before I flew back home soo)

Professional Ticket what?? Uhhh apparently there's a whole industry/scene for this you look for listings on xianyu/taobao etc for people to buy on your behalf, you have to give them your real name and identification number (so for foreigners it'd be your passport number) for verification purposes during entry so yknow yea

getting there

You could cab directly to the venue but my friend signed us up for the free shuttle bus (they had freebies last year but not this time) and before we boarded they gave us like free water and bread (apparently free raincoats too on rainy days) which was nice of them but also insane because. the venue doesn't allow you to bring food/drinks in so a lot of people were leaving A LOT of unopened bottles near the gate and I saw a venue staff just throwing them all into the bin (HOPEFULLY JUST TO CARRY THEM AWAY IN ONE GO AND NOT FOR STRAIGHT DISPOSAL….) They drop you off near the venue but you don't go in directly, there's a 'Doctor break room' where most people are seated waiting to be ushered in batches into the venue, but also a lot of people standing around on one side of the room swapping/offering merch

merch swap

ive been told this is a very concert culture thing but i feel like its kind of different because a lot of these are so high quality ike…you could sell them at Artist Alleys but here they are just distributing for free if you have a E2 60 blorbo lmao or whatever (there seems to be a tiny…? minority that prints official art but most of them seem to be handdrawn/made)

i was too unprepared for this lol i did exchange some of my old stickers (missed out on a collapsal plastic fan bc my brain lagged when the guy asked me and i went to my auto 'sorry i dont have any merch' response' :( regretted this bc the room got a little hot from the amount of people in there and i was wearing like 3 layers with that fan on my mind)

from people watching a lot of trades are arranged beforehand on weibo/other sites unless you're willing to yell WHO WANTS TO TRADEEE/anyone wants freebies (a lot of people were also wearing 'Feel Free to Swap Merch/Ask for Freebies' tags) which i was definitely not brave enough to do lol… met up with an oomf i got to know from last dec when i attended an arknights only and they gave me some birbs and charms (bottom of post), there was someone who got a free LGD zine and charm from me bc i posted on wb that id give a free copy to anyone with a Mod 3 swire/swummer LMFAO

I had 2 more people to meet but, uhhh so I bought an esim for mobile data and it would intermittently lose signal here and there which was a little annoying when getting coffee but it just died entirely when i reached the venue and it was kind of Dire because i was waiting for one more friend who was coming over from the fes and i couldn't contact them lmao. told the friend i came with to go in first because I thought if my food got confiscated at least my oomf could see it beforehand LOL

waited outside in a light drizzle for an hour trying to trouble shoot my data to no avail and ended up borrowing a staff's wifi hotspot to get my entry qr code (I actually bought a second data roaming plan on my local sim but i quite stupidly did not check the country coverage and only learned later that night that 'Asia' doesn't cover China kuxiao) she was so nice i was (bow emoji) so sorry to trouble you im a stupid gaijin and she was like no its ok enjoy shanghai!! pien

spent a good 30min next to this board praying for data to no avail

the show

erm anyway because of that clownery above i more or less missed the first piece (the one w the goated hoho) but at least i wasnt the guy next to me who went for a bathroom break right before starset came up

The live singing this year was definitely an improvement I think… I can't really remember the setlist off the top of my head but I'm sure someone else has already listed it out, there were a couple of new pieces that weren't related to the concert groups like a Babel/Kazdel?? one sung in Latin, a Victoria…? one (in victorian ofc) also an Amiya (? just remembering by the visuals they used lol) one in Japanese

ohh yeah so almost every track would start with like a faction logo transitioning in from 3d to 2d which was cool but also amusing because it was honestly bringing quite the 'I will Make Your Company Logo Into 3D Fiverr' vibes

Since I missed the first piece idk if any of The Dreamer(s) got 3D models but The Pilgrim(s why are they all singular) had Kaltsit playing on that piano (there was also a replica of that piano on stage the white one complete with 'Arknights' text on it lmao) and Siege being cool running around in 3D (and ofc Eureka during her denpa number) it was very cool but man... its a pity the other characters in the group just get their live2d png during the beginning and effectively get sidelined lool compared to say Phenomenal Agents idk if i like this tradeoff but that eureka bit was so good sheesh #NOVAFIVE⭐ULTRALIVESWEEP

The other stuff was really great too looking at you Lone Trail medley…!!!!! I might be wrong but I... assume... you're encouraged to karaoke bc they always show the lyrics on screen… I couldn't even hear myself anyway but it was very fun singing songs you can't get on joysound/etc with a whole crowd going at it too (even if most of them would only sing 1-2 lines of the chorus)

Mary Clare did Radiant (they had the lyrics scrolling on the sides very cool) and iirc the Throne group's song...? Radiant was so fun live

Starset did Monster > Telescope and when the latter ended they were like Bye! and we(?) started yelling ENCORE--awkwardly because idk how they do it here (I was half expecting it to be JP style 'an-call-roo' but a bunch of us just yelled en-core en-core here and there until they returned to perform Infected) speaking of yelling.. between every piece when they had to switch sets people would just yell memes or skill names (like Dage's) to pass the time or sth i barely caught half of whatever they were memeing about

did i forget to mention anything else uhhh originium rock turntable for Guide Ahead's boss theme/Dossoles Lobby and they had IS4 medley live throat singing very cool also the dancers they got for silbenherze's boss theme good stuff...

iirc after starset was like a behind the scenes video of how HG prepared for AS and a recorded lowlight video saying some stuff that i forgot LOL just some thank you message basically. 9.5/10 bc no missy/shu EP live

i just realised i forgot to display all the merch from the A tier ticket but w/e. light stick photo ft. merch swaps/gifts from friends and strangers 🥹 (the iffy lenticular card was literally dropped into my bag by an iffy coser (wearing the LT outfit..?!) while waiting for the cab LMAO)

#arknights #bentotexto #will blog about the festival in another post because i dont think theyll let me post that many photos #yeah i got the logos/theresa pillow but im giving it to a friend

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catboylister · 4 months

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any ark headcanons for pre or post canon?

AAAAAA OKOKOK SO

pre-canon;

lister has never been to the beach before and jimmy and rowan find it ridiculous becauze they from fucking kent. so they go together and lister just has a field day. he goes in the sea band then freaks out because it was freezing. then spends and hour digging a big ass fucking hole like boys do. srsly everytime ive been to the beach with guys they just start digging holes like what is up with that ??

due to the money struggles, louise ended up homeless for a short while, so she had lister move in with his dad and step-siblings for a month or two when he was about 9, but he didnt really understand what was really happening at so it was a confusing time for him

rowans parents work super hard to give him a good childhood, so he was in a bunch if extracurriculars since a kid.

jimmy and his sister were actually quite close when they were younger, bit drifted as he started getting famous because she would compare herself to him a lot over it.

lister knew how to swim when he was little, bht then never went in a pool again for years so he kind of just forgot. rowan teaches lister how to swim again. with a lot of struggle. but he does it.

lister would get in trouble in school for not handing in work a lot, and ditches class most the time. after becoming friends with jimmy and rowan he attempts to focus on his work more but for some reason he just doesnt get it so he just. gives up.

when learning abt listers financial situation, rowan and jimmy make sure to bring extra cash or snacks to give to him at school but are always like oh i mustve got two on accident oh nooo. lister knows what their doing but he appreciates it.

jimmy and rowan would have sleep overs basically every other weekend. they had their own tooth brushes at eachothers houses.

post canon;

the ark group therapy is very important to me i think itd take a while for all of them to actually be onboard with it but they get there

also they should get a pet. i think a cat because. i like cats. its in the username. or maybe a bunny because their super cute. tho i feel like listers the type of guy to get a snake or some type of reptile.

lister uses a cane for a while after kent due to his leg injury, he refuses to use it at the beginning but realises hed rather not be in pain all the time and uses it to win fights with rowan. (also rowan has 100% once pushed him too hard while play fighting and lister j straight up collapses. he apologies like 20 times but lister cant say its okay because hes laughing so hard)

frowan. idk what abt them but just frowan. oh i do like the idea that rowan is a fan of uc and has found frances art style super cool and unique, all while frances has no idea who rowan is lolol

lister sometimes fills up an empty bottle of vodka with water, then drinks it in front of rowan to see whats happens.

did i mention the cat already ?

#iwbft #the ark #lister bird #rowan omondi #jimmy kaga ricci #osemanverse

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leezlelatch · 2 years

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Copia x Female Reader: Sick Day

Fall finally descends on the Ministry. Torrential rains have already plucked away the lovely reds and oranges which had lined the well-trod pathways through the courtyards and gardens hidden within the church's walls, much to the chagrin of the Siblings of Sin who spent the uncharacteristically warm weather sprawled beneath fluttering leaves.

Now, the cold weather set in, bundling everyone into cloaks and scarves. Fireplaces roar pleasantly in nearly every corner of the building, central heating not quite up to date within the charming, yet antiquated abbey. Even Papa's sermons have taken a yuletide turn, urging his flock to find warmth in the joys of giving and receiving over the winter months. Clothing optional.

However, with weather changes inevitably comes illness.

You open your eyes with a groan, swallowing thickly several times and taking stock of the burning in your throat. Reaching out a hand haphazardly, you fumble around for your bottle of water, leaning on your elbow as you chug the drink, your expression souring as you realize that yes, it is a sore throat. '

"You don't look well," your roommate chimes from her side of the room, glancing at you through the mirror she stands at as she adjusts her outfit for the day.

Habits are...optional. You have one, and wear it for mass, or various other Ministry dealings where necessary, but the entire point of your religion is freedom of expression. The Ministry may have many Catholic similarities, intentionally so, but they aren't quite so austere as Frankie's institution.

"I don't feel well," you respond, laying your head heavily on the pillow, feeling a cough tickle at the back of your throat that you try desperately to stifle, and fail.

"You've been coughing a little the last few days, did you take anything to help?"

"No, but I should have known better," you sigh. "My consequences."

Your roommate walks over to her bedside table, grabbing her phone. Her side of the room is an entire juxtaposition to yours, very neutral, minimalist. Yours is cluttered with Ghost posters, vinyl, books, and other odds and ends you find very important to keep. Let someone take your 90s troll doll from your cold, dead hands.

"I've got to go, but...feel better?" Your roommate says, making her way to the door. You wave at her without saying anything. Your relationship is friendly without the important aspect of an actual relationship. You sleep in the same room. It doesn't go much beyond that.

Lying in abject misery for several seconds, your eyes suddenly widen as you grip your phone, staring at the time on the screen. You're supposed to meet with the Cardinal today after novitiate classes. Ever since you've begun to spend time with him in the illustrious presence of the rat Portobello, you and Cardinal Copia have become quite close, and are growing ever closer. He is sweet, not merely in his personality, but his actions. He remembers things about you - a favorite drink, snack, film, something silly you mention off hand, and will often show up to your little meetings with a treat or a happy thought about your special interests that absolutely tickle you pink.

Copia likes to make puns, often leaving you in a fit of giggles from the absurd and sometimes vulgar things that come out of that man's mouth. And yet, everytime you laugh, that same look of wonderment passes over his features, as if he cannot possibly believe that you find his jokes funny. You often want to hug him in those moments, but physical touch begins and ends with an occasional touch of his gloved hand against yours or with the gentle way he enjoys escorting you around the abbey - his hand at the small of your back, ensuring no obstacles impede your steps.

Today, you offered to help him with a little organization work in his office. Copia has a computer, he can use it, and he has a phone, which he can also use despite texting as if he's never seen one, but when it comes to the more intricate workings of a Ministry attempting to hurtle into the 21st century, he has his difficulties.

"It's a generational thing," you had attempted to explain one evening. "Nothing to be ashamed of."

Copia had merely ducked his head, "Must I be so much older than you, cara mia?"

You had sat back, surprised and distressed by the mournful way he spoke, as if his age had any bearing on how you saw him. As if his age hindered the fluttering in your chest every single time he looked at you. You spent the rest of that evening trying to pull him out of his melancholy, to reassure him that his age merely allowed him to know and share with you a great many things you didn't, that you didn't mind your age gap at all. He had chuckled at that. But you knew he didn't believe you, or at least, didn't believe himself.

Hastily finding his name in your phone, Copia picks up on the second ring, his tone jovial as he greets you by name, the lilting way his accent wraps around the letters making you smile despite the unpleasant sting in your throat.

"I did not see you at breakfast," he continues happily. "I was surprised not to see a piccolo topo at the donut table, so I picked you up a few before they were all gone."

You thrill at the little nickname he gives you, knowing your penchant for sweets, and you sigh at his thoughtfulness that, unfortunately, transforms into a cough.

You can almost see Copia stop wherever he is walking, "Are you well?"

"Copia, I'm so sorry," you say, your voice rough. "I think I have a cold. I woke up feeling terrible."

"Oh no, do not apologize, cara," he clicks his tongue, a string of Italian escaping his lips. "I should have addressed that little cough of yours."

You almost laugh, "That's entirely my fault. I should have known it would turn into something."

"Have you taken anything?"

"I don't have any medicine here," you say, glancing around the room as if something would appear. You cough again, wincing, "My throat is pretty raw."

"Tesoro," Copia breathes into the phone. You're nearly alarmed with how upset he sounds, the endearment new as well. "You need to take something."

"I'll try to go down to see Matron, I just really don't want to get up right now."

"...are you alone?"

"Yes?" You furrow your brow at his anxious tone.

Copia breathes out slowly, "Your Cardinal will bring you something."

Click! The call ends. You pull the phone away from your face and stare at it incredulously, all at once surprised, panicked that he'll see you in this state, and completely, all consumingly flustered by "Your Cardinal." Jumping out of bed, you sway, your head fit to explode from a headache, and attempt to make yourself and your room presentable. What does he mean he's bringing you something!? You can hardly imagine Cardinal Copia in your small dormitory room as if you haven't been in his rooms a few times already.

"That's different," you mutter to yourself, throwing a discarded shirt previously on the floor in the hamper. It really wasn't any different, but you're sick, you aren't going to admit to shit.

Your urgency is unneeded as the dreaded knock on your door does not occur until nearly 30 minutes later. You slowly open the door, the squeak of the old wood perfect for your current mental state. Copia stands just beyond, dressed in his black cassock, a paper bag in one hand, thermas peaking out, and Portobello's small cage in the other.

"Hello, cara," Copia says in that small voice that is simultaneously high-pitched and deep in his throat. He shifts on his feet, lips parted slightly as he gazes at you, eyes trailing over your features as if he's analyzing you for visible injuries.

"Copia," you sigh his name, voice weak. "You brought our baby!"

Your enthusiasm sends you into another coughing fit, and you hastily back away and cover your mouth, your throat positively punishing you for it. You glance up at him sheepishly after, whispering a quiet apology. Copia looks around in a panic for a moment before finding a place to carefully lay Portobello's cage down, placing the bag near it.

Copia holds his hands up, index fingers pointed up as he shakes his head, "No, no! No apologizing, cara, huh? You are sick. And you should be in bed," he gestures to your bed as if he's waving you off. "Go on, or you will not get to see our child."

You nearly scramble to your bed and flop down, hearing him chuckle behind you as he bends down to rummage through the bag he brought.

"How did you know which bed was mine?" You can't help but ask.

Copia merely tilts his head up at you and raises a brow, "I know you." He leans back down, letting out a hum, "Also I very much doubt your roommate would have a poster of me."

You feel your stomach drop out from under you as you turn with a deadpan expression to stare at the tour poster on your wall.

"Would you like me to sign it?" Copia snickers, standing back up.

"Don't perceive me," you groan. "I am ill."

You lay back and pull the covers over your face, blushing furiously at the Cardinal's soft laughter. He is entirely pleased, warmth spreading through his chest to combat the worry he feels over your sickness. You like his music. Copia is suddenly struck with a feeling of accomplishment and pride that he had yet to feel since taking over the Ghost Project. The standards set by the Papas is intimidating at best, the expectations often debilitating, but knowing you keep his image? Oh, amata mia.

You suddenly feel something heavy on your stomach and peak over the edge of your blanket to see Portobello sniffing at the covers, little noises escaping him as he explores. Copia pulls your desk chair very close to your bedside, using your end table as a makeshift work space as he places several water bottles, medicine, and thermas on the surface.

You snuggle Portobello close to your chest, gently stroking his head as you continue to blush up at the Cardinal who appears very focused on his task. You watch as he carefully extracts the medicine from the packet, opening a bottle of water before turning to you with a tut and a soft smile as he takes in the sight of you and Portobello.

"Come now, 'Bello, your mother must take her medicine," he murmurs, carefully exchanging the rat for your medicine and water.

You once, accidentally, heard Copia refer to himself as "Daddy" to his little charges, and to his immense mortification, you were delighted and ran like hell with it. Portobello was both your baby, so...

Taking your medicine, you glance curiously at the thermas, "What's in there?"

Copia blushes, "It is, uh, soup. Soup for you. Chicken noodle. It is good when you are sick, no?"

Placing Portobello back on your chest, who promptly began to snooze, Copia unscrews the cap and carefully deposits the steaming soup into it, pulling out a spoon from his bag. You take it gratefully, your fingers brushing the Cardinal's, his index finger reaching out to linger against the back of your hand before pulling away.

You take a sip, sighing happily. It tastes so good, and you'll take the burning against your throat for this anyday.

"Where did you get it?"

"I...made it."

You look up at Copia, spoon halfway to your lips. He isn't looking at you, rather at the wall, his fingers drumming quickly against his thigh.

"Copia," you smile. "Thank you for taking care of me."

He looks at you then, urgently, leaning forward, his brow furrowing as he places an inquisitive hand on your arm. You nod, and his grip tightens.

"I will always care for you," he whispers. He looks so vulnerable in this moment, his eyes shining with some unsaid emotion. You are both on a precipice, hands clasped, ready to fall. The only question is, will someone step first? Or will you fall together?

"I don't want to infect you," you giggle softly, freeing a hand to gently place yours over his.

With a twinkle in his eye, Copia flips his hand so it is firmly grasping yours. He is here, with you, the rat that set you both on this path sleeping between you, and that is bliss.

"It is a chance I am willing to take," he smiles. "Now eat your soup."

#the band ghost #cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus iv #papa iv #papa emeritus iv x reader #female reader #reader insert #prequelle #impera #copia #papa emeritus x reader

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rubinaitoart · 3 months

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So I want to write some things down cause this blog sorta serves as a little journal for me at times, and this is a pretty major turning point for me. A lot of this rambling might seem a little weird, or overdoing it, or whatever. But it’s important to me. I’ll be putting it under the cut because it’s going to be long and focusing on, of all things, environmental issues and plastic. Stuff I’ve never talked about on here before.

Over the past month or so, I’ve found myself in a state of severe anxiety. (I’m trying to remedy it, but there’s still some residual things that aren’t quite going away just yet.)

During this period of time, my anxiety settled on the state of the world in an ecological context. Namely, the depletion of resources and the impact of microplastics. It’s something I didn’t really consider or focus on for a while but now that I have it hasn’t really left my head.

One of my many coping mechanisms when my anxiety gets this severe is to try and think through solutions. Unfortunately this is on such a large scale that I can’t exactly do anything about it at this moment in time; but for the first time in a very long time, my anxiety did something useful and gave me a direction to take my life. It’s something that I’ve sorely needed for a while now.

This is where I want to take my education, and what I want my career to be focused on.

There’s a lot of thoughts that have been circling around in my head about everything. Lessening our use of plastic is great, but what kind of impact will it actually have on the environment on a large scale? With how the carbon cycle is out of balance and carbon emissions so high, can we afford to turn to paper as an alternative to plastic?

How do we find a solution that is feasible for the average person to commit to?

Plastic is a wonder material. It’s versatile and convenient; it can be whatever we need it to be. Thin and bendable, or solid and sturdy, or a thin wrapping to properly seal things. Bags, boxes, buckets, containers. It lines our aluminum cans to keep the aluminum from leeching into the drink, it makes it easier to distribute food on a larger scale, it means we don’t have to turn in milk bottles like in ye olden days, and it’s cheap to produce.

It’s in our clothes, it contains our food, it holds our water, it dispenses our personal care products.

It turns into microplastics that leeches into our blood and could be even worse than that, it’s a pollutant and cannot be composted nor is it biodegradable, it injures animals and floats in our oceans.

But it’s a wonder material, and for all the bad it’s doing, it’s difficult to stop using it. Because it’s convenient and easy to make, we’ve integrated it into our way of life to make things easier. It’s no wonder that trying to outright ban plastics doesn’t go very far. We might be able to get away with taxing plastic bags or banning plastic straws, but there’s so much more that’s still being used and discarded.

Plastic is not a disposable resource.

All of this to say, I want to find reasonable solutions to ecological problems, starting with plastic. There are many plastic alternatives that, in the long run, will cause far more environmental damage. Rapidly depleting resources for a massive population isn’t how we fix the problem; so we need to find a sustainable and renewable resources. Plant based solutions are a great start.

Like straws. There’s a company that produces straws made of sugarcane; specifically a byproduct of the sugar production process, the fibers that are stripped away.

Things like this make me optimistic that we can find more solutions to a plastic problem. And even if we only reduce plastic consumption by 50%, I’d be happy. I recognize that there are many situations where plastic is a good thing to use, such as evidence collection in forensics or necessary medical equipment like IV bags. We just need to find a way to reduce our usage of these plastic items to a less wasteful level.

So that’s what I’m going to get my degree for. I might not make much of a difference but I’d like to at least try and do something; and I’m a little excited that I finally have an idea of where I want to go in life.

#rubin rambles #like seriously rambling #environment and plastic and all that jazz

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itwasthisorthemilitary · 5 months

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April 13, 2024

I knowwwww I haven't been writing 🙃

Ok Thursday night: Sughedys straightened my hair for a good 90 minutes and then knotted it up in a hair net and bandana. I was under strict instructions to not get sweaty between 10 pm Thursday night and noon on Friday. Impossible? Really enjoyed sitting there while she played with my hair. Felt like a little girl.

Yesterday was one of my favorite birthdays Ive ever had and I think it was because I went into it with such low expectations. I received an insane amount of gifts from my family. A new necklace for the party, a pair of pants, a sun hat, a new bag (all which I now have to figure out how to pack). Dena came over bright and early with my favorite coconut water and chocolates 😊 I can't explain what it was like receiving so many cards, handmade bracelets, and little trinkets from trainees who were working with whatever they had. I feel so lucky that my birthday was during PST and I got to celebrate with everyone before shipping out. Caitlin gave me a book and a postcard from New Hampshire and that made me cry. So for the morning I didn't do much of anything (couldn't get sweaty). I bought a pineapple and shared it with some people on my porch. Then. At noon it was time to get beautiful. Elianis helped me do my makeup, sughedys took my hair out of it's holdings, and I changed into my new dress. It was CRAZY putting makeup on, also it was so hot so really only eye makeup and lipstick because I was sweating so much. Yesterday afternoon felt like getting ready for prom with Audrey and Caitlin. We were singing to music, taking pictures at each of our houses, and we think the women were more excited than we were. Once we were all done we walked into the center of town for the despedida. The despedida is just a farewell party for all the volunteers and their families. Not gonna lie, having a party throw on my birthday was kinda amazing. Everyone made it such a big deal and I was looking more fancy than most. The despedida was fun, albeit bittersweet. Caitlin, Audrey, Elianis, Crisyei, and I all did the macarena in front of everyone.

After the despedida we continued the birthday festivities at my house. Liv, Sam, Audrey, Caitlin, and Carlo all came over and we played old playlists from highschool while drinking gree apple vodka out of a water bottle. The running joke is that it was actually my 17th birthday because everything in the training community feels like being in highschool again. We danced and sang and all ate cake afterwards. My mom asked if I wanted to invite more trainees and when I said no she laughed really hard. Then I called Chloe which was a MISTAKE because then I got really sad that she wasn't there too. I was sitting with these 5 people who are so amazing and two months ago I didn't know them and now I couldn't picture my life without them but it still felt like chlo was missing from the equation.

All around, an incredible birthday, I feel so loved and it was fun to dress up even if it was a little ridiculous.

Today: championship baseball game!

Audrey, Caitlin, and I all went into Chorerra with our family to watch my brother, Elian, play at the championship baseball game. Its a new stadium for the major league but for the championship game they got to play there. He was SO excited when he found out we were coming. Olivia and Sam met us there. Elian is OBSESSED with Sam so you could just see him glowing that we all showed up with his whole family. We all got super into the game...for the first 2 hours and then we were wondering why the fuck the coach hadn't put Elian in once. Elian is so good at baseball he's been asked to play on an elite team during the season, and during today's game he was not put on the field once....I asked my family and they were livid. They've had issues with the director in the past and the vibe is he's resentful of Elian and the other player who have been asked to join this elite team. Obviously I don't know the whole story but he's a child and whatever your issue is, don't take it out on him. They brutally lost the game and when we got home elian was crying because he was so embarrassed that all of us came and he didn't play. I'm still so upset about it, not that I didn't see him play, I see him play everyday, but that he was caught in the crossfire's of adults.

After the game Liv, Caitlin, Sam, Audrey and I went out for birthday margs and lemme tell you, Passion fruit margs??? They go down real smooth, especially with some extra shots. So then Audrey and I went grocery shopping...bad idea. Put me in the American grocery store while drunk, yikes. I asked Audrey if I should get the peanut butter m&M's, the sour candy, the Milano dark chocolate cookies, or the extra cheddar goldfish and she said "it was your birthday yesterday....all of them?" So that was all the convincing I needed.

Then tonight was sam's mom's birthday so I went to her party because it's our last like real night here. After some more beer and wine I ended up on top of my usual hill looking at the stars.

Not sure if you've noticed but I use some combination of Audrey, Carlo, Caitlin, Liv, and Sam in every sentence. (I miss Ahmet daily, we facetimed him for my birthday party) I'm going to be gutted and I'm one of the lucky ones, I'm keeping two out of the 5 of them. After Wednesday, guaranteed no seeing them for 3 months. It's been the craziest codependency for the last 10 weeks, followed by isolation for the next 2 years. All five of them made yesterday one of the best birthdays Ive had and I'm just going to know them for the rest of my life.

Fittingly, on my last day in the states I was up until 3 am writing a blog post. Much like I am right now on my (2nd to) last night in Los Mortales. Tomorrow is packing and saying goodbye to everyone. Pictures to follow

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star-sim · 6 months

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hihi!! i hope you've been doing well! its that time of year where school gets so much more stressful so i hope youve been taking care of yourself 🫶

tbh as an east coast girlie, ive only heard terrible second hand accounts of socal asian guys and im so happy i have the privilege of never meeting one

BUT i am subject to insanely smart asian boys w an extreme superiority complex like i'm sorry i am not a robot that does nothing but study!! its so hard being a girl in stem my GOD

but speaking of insanely smart asian guys, lil update: istg this man is watching me. like he mirrors things i do. i didnt notice it at first but it kept happening that i was a little suspicious.

i cross my arms. he crosses his arms. i lean chin on my hand. he leans his chin on his hand. i cross my legs. he crosses his legs. LIKE?? i dont actually know how this has been going on for but i just noticed it in class now bc he sat next to me today so i could see him out of the corner of my eye.

and i actually thought i was going insane and being delusional and making things up so i tested it yk to be sure. so i reach over to my bag and grab my water bottle to drink from it, bc i feel like thats something you have to consciously do rather than just shifting positions in an uncomfortable seat, and WHAT DO YOU KNOW not even a second later he goes to drink from his water.

i'm calling something here... maybe i am being delusional idk.

anyway, i hope you have a good day 🫶🫶 your niki fic healed my heart after the traumatizing chem quiz i took

-key

HAI KEY

im so envious of east coast-erners lowk, like ik west coast has cool surfers and hollywood but the east coast just seems so cool. unlike socal yall actually have SEASONS we've been rocking at a consistent 62 degrees fahrenheit for the past 3 months

aint mirroring actions a sign of interest..... inch resting... very very inch resting indeed.... nooo like this isn't delusion this is actually pretty solid evidence....

i hope youre having a good weekend so far!! im so glad you like my niki fic!!

#star-sim #vanya-talks #★: anon key !!

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wannabepapa · 1 year

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@widenmyhips here, just jumping in with some possible writing inspo? your cold weather/winter scenes are so cute but do you have any scenes about being pregnant in the summer, when it’s sunny and warm? love your work ✨

hi darling! thank you for the compliment you are very sweet. i'm glad you are enjoying my work because lately it feels like i have not been doing a very good job at my words coming across as comprehensive or even readable.

—

and for summer vibes? i can only imagine that being relatively uncomfortable. i live in the south and it is absolutely disgusting with the humidity making it like a swamp. worst of all the poor thing having the first trimester in the cooler months then as they get bigger the temperature rises? that would be a miserable existence without doing everything in your power to stay cool

↳ when you are wearing clothes they are very thin and breathable to not overheat. lots of short and loose tank tops or even no shirt on at all (those who have a chest would wear a comfortable bra) ↳ you're carrying around a huge water bottle to keep hydrated. no matter how awful it is to constantly have to pee you would much rather drink all the water, liquid iv, and electrolyte water so you don't feel like garbage later ↳ there is a small battery powered fan that goes out with you to keep you cool. it's not even a hot day most of the time but the child growing in your belly makes you so hot there is already sweat at your hairline when you step outside. you can't even have your partner hold your hand or stand too close because of how hot you feel ↳ your freezer is full of ice pops and ice cream for when you need a little pick-me-up. that old wives tale about having something hot to cool you down was a mistake—you did try it and not only did it make you break out in a sweat but the baby went crazy kicking your insides. never again. only cold things from now on ↳ naked is the only way you can sleep in the later months of your pregnancy. you sleep in the guest room with a fan blasting on you with nothing covering your body while your partner is asleep in the other room. it's hard being alone with no one to rub your belly when the baby gets active at four in the morning or kissing you good morning but you don't want to freeze your partner with the fan on you. ↳ in your last months in the privacy of your home you've got little on but underwear (bra if you have a chest or start developing them) when no one is around. you've been on leave for weeks now so you didn't need to wear anything. anyone that tries to come over know to call first before dropping in so no surprise nakey times traumatize people. not that you care. you're gravid and very uncomfortable in your house, it's not a bad thing. plus you're body is beautifully round everyone should be jealous.

that's all i have right now sorry! hope i did this justice

#;ask and ye shall receive #widenmyhips #;it's only 80 F but the humidity is 77% it's gross #;someone tell the south to calm down please

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another-whump-sideblog · 2 years

Text

Jane’s Pets Pt. 54: Consequences

TWs in the tags

Masterlist

“Eat.” Jane commands. “Bunny specifically requested that I let you eat today, and it’s his anniversary.”

Kitty is not hungry enough for wet cat food to taste good, but they gag it down. Their defiance only goes so far, and they won’t disobey a clear order.

“Good! He asked me to give you water, too. Kneel.”

Jane holds a water bottle to their lips. They roll their eyes, but drink from it all the same.

“Good, good. Give me your arm.”

They hold out their arm instantly. Jane puts a needle in it. An IV. Then she pulls both of their arms behind their back roughly and ties them to their ankles.

A stress position. They can handle that, they’re good at handling that. But what’s the IV for?

Jane wraps a blindfold around their head. No, no, not that, not with the IV, that means she can leave them here for months without even needing to touch them. And they’ll hear nothing and see nothing and feel nothing for months, no no no please no.

“Wait! I’m sorry, I’m sorry for what I said, I won’t do it again, please! Please, master, I’m sorry. I never would’ve done it if you said it was against the rules! Please, I’m good, I’m obedient, there’s no need for this. Just tell me that I have to be nice to you and I will. I’ll be nothing but respectful, please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s not about rules.” Jane winds duct tape around their head, over and over and over. The blindfold isn’t coming off any time soon. “I can hurt you whenever I want, for whatever reason I want. And you mocking me makes me want to hurt you.”

Jane places heavy headphones over their ears, and they are left with nothing but their thoughts.

Today would be a good day to visit my therapist. She’d have something interesting to say about my past few days, I’m sure, and I desperately need to hear something interesting.

I watch her from my void as she plays a video game, waiting until she’s clearly very focused to exit my void and sit on the couch near her. She plays a few more rounds before she notices.

“Fuck!” She gasps, narrowly avoiding chucking her controller across the room. “How long have you been there?”

“Just a minute. What are you playing?”

“I’m sure you know more about it than I do. What do you want?”

“Just to talk, like always.”

Peyton turns off her game, taking a deep breath. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“I don’t need to eat.”

“And yet, you’re always more pleasant to talk to after a healthy meal. Starvation doesn’t have to kill you to affect you. Which you should know better than anyone, with all the non-lethal torture you do. Come on, I’ll make you some soup.”

“I can make my own soup. I know how to make a soup so good it makes everything else taste worse by comparison. Besides, I ate a couple of days ago. And I can summon any soup I want from my void.”

“That’s nice.” Peyton goes into her kitchen anyway. I follow. “Was there anything specific you wanted to talk about?”

“I’ve has a busy few days. It was Bunny’s anniversary, so I tried to have a fun day with everyone. But Kitty was a snot and Bunny was all whiny about his head hurting, so it didn’t go as planned.”

“Ah. How are they?”

“Who?”

“Your… the people living with you.”

“My pets? Puppy and Bunny are fine. Kitty’s in the basement because they need a reminder of their place.”

“And why is that?”

“They’ve been so disrespectful lately! Acting like I don’t know what I’m doing, criticizing my choices. Fucking brat. They belong to me.”

“I thought that you didn’t care what lowly mortals thought of you.”

“I don’t! But they need to know their place.”

“Why?”

“They’re my pet! They should be scared of me. They should want to avoid making me angry. They should be constantly thinking about how to keep me entertained so I don’t hurt them.”

“…Why?”

“Because that’s the kind of behavior that entertains me. Obviously.”

“Them disrespecting you is boring?”

“Well… no.”

“I thought this was all about handling boredom. Why would you punish behavior that entertains you?”

“Because I can do whatever the fuck I want. Like, if I wanted to, I could beat you to death with a baseball bat.”

“I never said you couldn’t. I just asked a question.” Peyton cuts carrots steadily. Her hands do not shake. She doesn’t believe me.

“Are you making chicken noodle soup? I told you, there’s no need for that.”

“If you don’t want it I’ll have it. Don’t change the subject. Why are you punishing Charlie for behavior that entertains you?”

“Who?”

“You know who I’m talking about. Why are you avoiding the question?”

“I’m not! I guess obedience just entertains me more. And hurting them entertains me more.” I smirk. “And I’ve got you. You can entertain me by disrespecting me. By acting like we’re equals. They can entertain me by going from snarling at me in anger to begging for mercy in a matter of seconds.”

“I see. And you don’t think that will ever get old?”

“Nope!” This is a conversation we’ve had several times before. I think Peyton has a poor memory.

“Why would it stay entertaining when nothing else does?”

“I don’t know why, but I know it does. I’ve been doing this longer than I’ve done anything else, and it’s still not boring. Haven’t figured out why yet, but I’m sure I will. I have all the time in the world.”

“Right. Well, what else happened on Liam’s anniversary?”

“Oh, I took them to an amusement park! Bunny and Puppy, I mean. They didn’t have the big reactions I was hoping for, but it was still fun. I haven’t ridden rollar coasters for a while. Then Puppy and me made S’mores and watched a movie while Bunny cried or something in his room.”

“Because of his migraine?”

“His headache. Are you assuming it’s a migraine because he was crying over it? He cries over a lot of things. I don’t know what kind of headache it is, I’ve never asked about if it only affects one side of his head or makes his vision blurry.”

“So you just don’t care at all about what kind of damage you did to his brain.”

“I didn’t do it! He tripped!”

“And I’m sure the repeated concussions you gave him before that had no impact at all. Seriously, though. He could die. I thought you only want them to die when you choose it.”

“He’s fine. None of his symptoms have been getting worse. I think.”

“Jane!”

“I gave him an MRI! I know where the issues are and that they’re not fatal. Relax.”

“Y’know, if you got him some migraine medication- or any pain relief medication- he would be less whiny about the headaches. And be able to do the things you want him to be able to do.”

“He hasn’t earned that. He’s free to ask for it the next time he earns a reward.”

“I’m just pointing out that if his headaches are annoying you, it’s completely in your power to make his headaches easier to deal with.”

“Hmm… if I gave him medicine for it, I could threaten to take it away to keep him in line…”

Peyton pours me a bowl of chicken noodle soup. “Hopefully, that won’t seem as appealing once you have a full stomach. Eat.”

Diya is having trouble convincing eir new friends to stage a rescue mission for people they don’t know.

“Come on! We all know what it’s like to trapped like that, don’t we? I can’t just leave them there, knowing they’re still being hurt.”

“Didn’t one of them break your fingers?” Karen asks.

“Yes, but they obviously thought it was their only option. They were crying, Barron, they didn’t want to. And even if they did, no one deserves to be stuck there.”

Barron jumps in. “We don’t even know what the monster is, though. What makes you so confident you can get past her?”

“You! Your powers! You can block her out, if only for long enough to get the three of them out. Or more, do you think there might be more?”

Barron figits with its bracelets. “That’s a lot of pressure on me, isn’t it? If you get caught, it would be my fault.”

Diya frowns. “It wouldn’t be your fault. This is my idea, and… I’ll do it with or without you.”

“Sheesh. This is really important to you?”

“It is.”

“Alright, alright. You’ll have to give me a few days to get the spells prepared.”

“Thank you! You won’t regret it, I promise. Karen? Are you going to come?”

Karen grimaces. “I’ll follow you. If things get too dangerous, I will leave.”

“Good enough! Okay, we’ve got a few days to plan while Barron prepares its spells. How should we approach this?”

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @fuzzybucketz

#whump #whump writing #whumpblr #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #nonhuman whumper #multiple whumpees #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #pet whump #3rd person pov #1st person pov #stress positions tw #sensory deprivation tw #medical abuse mention tw #jane’s pets

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