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wowitsel · 3 years

Text

a little bit of me on you

tattoo shop! calum hood x gn! reader

summary: tattoo artist calum hood lets the reader give him a tattoo

word count: 1.3k

Leaning back in your chair, you admired your boyfriend as he sat at his desk sketching a tattoo idea. A late night at the tattoo shop had led you to go hang out with your boyfriend, Calum, at his work. It was often routine for you to hang around the shop while Calum finished up. It gave you time to hang out, even with both of your hectic schedules. It was always nice to hang out there after hours, it was oddly calm.

Sneaking up behind Calum, you got a better look at what he was drawing. Peeking at his work, you enquired, “So… whatcha working on?”

Stopping his sketching to talk to you, he responds, “Ahh just a floral piece for a client. You like it so far?” As he sees you nod, he continues, “You really should let me tattoo you again.”

Calum had given you several tattoos. With the two of you dating, it felt silly for you to get one from anyone else. He always gave you them free of charge (despite the argument from you), and it didn’t hurt that he was an insanely talented tattoo artist.

It was no secret that Calum didn’t contemplate much with his tattoos. With the sheer amount of them, he really couldn’t have. Add in him being a tattoo artist, and you have a man who gets tattoos in a very rash manner.

With this knowledge, staring at the man in front of you, a lightbulb lit up in your brain as you came up with an idea. You walk up behind the man, and hug him from behind, staring up at him. “Hey Cal, I have an idea…” Intrigued, Calum nodded to encourage you to keep speaking, “What if I give you a tattoo… I mean it could just be a small lil thing, and I know I’m not the best artist but I thought it could be fun.”

Calum surprised you, and he promptly responded, “I’m down” with a smile on his face.

“For real?”

“For real.”

Now, smiling like a maniac, you quickly ran your hand through Calum’s hair, while asking him; “So, what do you want for a tattoo? Try and go a little easy on me. You are the professional here.”

Calum sighed dramatically, “Well, you could do a smiley face or a heart, it’s really up to you, I’m down for anything, my love.”

“I have a scary amount of power in my hands don’t you think?”, you said in a disney villain-esque voice.

Calum gives you a look, while teasingly saying, “well, maybe not anything”

“Can’t take it back now, darling” you reply.

You then grabbed his hand to pull him away from his desk; “Now, c’mon let’s go!”

Pulling him toward his tattooing station, and gently shoved him down onto the chair.

“So you’re just gonna free-hand this?” you hear Calum say to you.

“Umm yes?” you answered unsure of how he would respond.

Calum just shrugged it off and nonchalantly replied, “Ok”.

Now, you had watched and received enough tattoos to generally know what you were doing, so you weren’t too nervous. That being said, you were going to be putting something on his body permanently, so it was a bit of a big deal. Walking over to the table with all the equipment, you stood there standing in front of it, just wondering where to even start.

Calum seemed to have read your mind at the moment. Getting up from the chair, and asking you, “You want me to set it all up for you?”

“Yes please,” you said, giving him a small smile and taking his place sitting on the chair.

Fidgeting with the loose thread hanging off the chair, you tell Calum, I think I’m gonna do a smiley face like you said. I don’t really trust myself enough to do much else”

Calum smiled at your little quip at your tattooing skills and replied, “Sounds good baby.”

Finishing up everything he needed to do to set up, Calum brought the tattoo gun, and everything else needed over to you and took a seat again once you stood up.

“So how much will you hate me if I mess up?” you said in a jokingly curious tone.

“You’re not giving me much confidence in your tattoo skills, my love” you hear him say as you situate yourself above his arm where he wanted the tattoo.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine” you sigh as you pat him on the arm. “You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be”

As you press the tattoo gun down onto Calum’s skin, he barely shows any signs of discomfort. “Is this really not hurting? Cause you seem to just be chillaxin’ or something, babe, I don't really get it. Every time I get a tattoo I wince and whine like a little baby. Am I a wimp for pain or something?”

Calum just replies to you by saying, “Baby, I've gotten a lot of tattoos, calm down, and pay more attention to the tattoo, it's gonna be on my body forever!”

You decided to listen to Calum’s advice and focus on the task at hand. Granted, it wasn’t a very big tattoo, so theoretically it shouldn’t have taken long, but you were being extra careful and slow, because of the whole “permanent” thing.

Getting into a grove, there was a nice silence and calm feeling in the air. Getting comfortable in the chair, and used to the feeling of the tattoo, Calum started to half-sing, half-hum some random tune he had thought of.

Smiling, and listening to him, you told him, “You sound good, you should become a singer or something”

“Ha! Imagine that; Calum Hood, rockstar. I could never.” Calum says to you, and you both chuckle at the thought. Calum leans his head over to check on the progress of the tattoo as you finish the last line in his tattoo.

“I’m done!” you say to him with a big smile on your face.

Calum gives you a look of admiration while telling you, “You did amazing, I’m so proud of you baby”

“I’m glad you think so. Now, I’m gonna go get the bandages and all that other shit so it doesn’t get infected or something,” you say getting up.

“Look at you being all professional, huh?” Calum says with a teasing smile.

“Yup!” you start to walk away when you realize that you have no idea where any of that stuff is; “So… ummm, the thing is…”

“You need me to get it for you?” Calum slyly says.

“Yes,” you squeak out meekly.

“I got you, baby,” Calum says while walking toward the supplies drawer.

After making his way back, Calum starts to put on the petroleum jelly on the fresh tattoo, and tries to put the bandage on himself, but struggles because of the position of the tattoo on his arm.

“Here, let me help you,” you said, grabbing the bandage out of his hand.

Wrapping it around his arm, you kiss the fully wrapped tattoo, and then kiss Calum on the lips. “Thank you for letting me do this Cal” you whisper against his lips.

“Thank you for not messing up,” he says, making you laugh.

“Now come on, let’s go cuddle on the couch”

After making your way to the waiting area of the tattoo shop, Calum plops down onto the couch, so he’s laying down on it, and pats the space next to him signaling for you to lay next to him, which you do.

As you lay down on the couch, Calum wraps his arm around you and kisses you on the forehead.

“This was fun,” you whisper to him.

“Yeah, it was.” you hear Calum whisper back as you see him start to yawn.

“You tired baby?” you say as you snuggle into him more.

“Yeah” Calum says weakly as you see him slowly fall asleep.

You smile at him as you begin to fall asleep yourself, so happy.

#calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood x reader #calum hood fluff #5sos #5sos imagine #5sos x reader #5sos fluff #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fanfiction #5sos fanfiction #5sos fic

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pogueit · 3 years

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First Aid Kit

Paring: Pope Heyward x Reader

Summary: You have an accident while attempting to do a new trick and Pope is the man for the job.

Warnings: blood ofc and general first aid stuff nothing too graphic tho!!

WC: 1,994

A/N: There's not enough Pope content!! SO I made some!! Pls enjoy some Pope and Y/N action!

THE GIF IS NOT MINE IT BELONGS TO @rue-bennett !!!!

Saturdays are not meant to be boring, but this scorching afternoon there was nothing to do. John B. went on his weekly date with Sarah, JJ scored a date with a kook he's been eyeing, and Kie was forced to go to a gala on the mainland, so it was just you and Pope alone in the chateau. He had been studying all day for an upcoming chemistry exam he has first thing Monday morning. You tried all day to get his head out of the books, but he was not having any of it. It wasn't until the late afternoon that you got him to go outside with you. Even though his nose was still deep in the piles of notes at least he was outside. You were skating on a horrifically uneven stretch of concrete that was oddly slathered in front of the chateau. Every time he could hear the wheels pop upwards he would snap his eyes to you, cheering you on when you stuck the landing. You were glad that he was far enough away to not be able to see how red your cheeks were. You've had a massive crush on the boy ever since Kie introduced you to the group. Your mom had just moved your ass down to the banks to get a fresh start far away from your poor excuse for a father. She managed to quickly score a job at The Wreck (where you were also forced to work part-time) as head chef. Your mom got on well with the Carrera's who only deemed it appropriate to force their daughter to hang out with you, being new in town and all. Kie wasn’t bothered at all and was glad to have another girl around. After hanging out with her for a single day, you wouldn’t hesitate to take a bullet for her. Kiara didn't introduce you to the knuckleheads right away, since she had taken a liking to you and didn't want to scare you away. The day that she did you remembered Pope had been the last one to say "hey" yet his was the warmest. After that day your stomach would erupt with butterflies whenever you'd even look at him and you would nearly die when your hands would brush against each other in passing. There was just something about him. Maybe it was how he didn't believe in stupid questions, except for JJ's of course, or how he would learn a new subject just to be able to help one of you ace an exam. It could be how the sun sparkled against his wet skin after a long day of swimming or surfing. How relaxed he looks sitting in the driver's seat of the HMS Pogue taking in all that the sun had to offer. You were glad the rest of the crew hadn't caught on yet, especially JB since he's already taken the role as your big brother, even though you're sure that you’re definitely older than him. He would never let you hear the end of it if he knew. The constant pestering, nudging, and side-eyeing would have driven you insane. Your mind slowly drifted back to the boy studying a few feet away from you. The thoughts of those hot summer nights in the cool water with him clouded your brain, so much so you nearly wiped out.

"You good!?" Pope's concerned voice made your head snap in his direction. You knew that the embarrassment on your face was very telling but you just shot him two thumbs up and got back on your board. You shake off any remaining thoughts from your head before attempting your new trick. You were sick and tired of random strangers, but mostly JJ and JB, yelling at you to do a kickflip whenever you were skating. After watching countless videos on kickflips you were basically an expert on them at this point and all you had to do now was actually stick the landing. You slid your right foot to the middle of the board so that your heel was just off the edge while your toes rested in the middle. You shifted your left foot to the tail of the deck and with all the strength you could muster you push down on the tail while your right foot flicked down on the edge of the board. It would have been a spectacular landing if it weren't for the random-ass pebble that your wheel landed on.

"Oh fuck, are you alright!?" Pope was by your side before you even realized you were on the ground. Falling came with the game and you were not fazed at all, since you've had grislier wipeouts than this, but that's before you saw the fountain of blood that poured out of your knee.

"Yeah, I'm fine dude-- I've had-- I need to--The bathroom--" you hobbled quickly into the bathroom at the chateau trying your darndest to not get any blood in the house. By the time you were able to sit down on the toilet, you were seeing stars. Your vision was slowly fading to black and you felt like you were going to vomit. You closed your eyes tightly as you pressed a clump of toilet paper to your knee, which pulled a hiss right from your lungs at the sensation. Promptly, you bit down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from letting out a scream. A light knock came from the door and it couldn't be anyone else but Pope.

"Are you alright in there y/n?" From all the pain you were in you could only hum out a yes as a response, but you knew that would not be a good enough answer for the boy.

"Yeah, just don't--" before you could even finish your sentence he barged in "--open the door, why don't ya". His eyes grew wide at the bloody mess you made in the bathroom, but then quickly softened at the sight of you. Your skin was flushed with developing perspiration clinging to your skin and your lips had gone pale as your lungs suddenly only knew how to hyperventilate.

"Uh, I don’t think it would be in your best interest to say that it looks like a slasher flick was filmed in here" his words made you squeeze your eyes tighter as bloody images flashed before you and it only got harder for you to breathe. Pope stepped inside the rather small bathroom and closed the door behind him. He picked up all the toilet paper you had used for your leg and tossed them into the trash bin before he crouched down next to you.

"Does it still hurt?" His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, as if you would shatter if he spoke any louder. All you could muster was a tiny nod as the pain took up most of your energy. His hands then gently pried your hands off of your injured knee and inspected it. Since the cut had almost stopped bleeding completely, Pope, was able to see that the wound was deep but not enough for it to garner any stitches and it was free of any debris. Lucky for you because JB had fallen there a couple of weeks ago and Pope had to whip out the tweezers to get all the gravel out of the bloody gash.

"Hey, it's not that bad-- I mean it is bad but it could be worse-- I'm gonna clean it now" the boy got to his feet and helped you sit on the edge of the bathtub with your feet sitting inside the tub. He then washed his hands furiously to avoid infection and gathered all the supplies he needed which consisted of antibacterial soap, antibiotic cream, gauze pads, gauze rolls, and unconditional love and support. Pope helped you undo both your shoes and removed them along with your embarrassing Winnie the Pooh socks. He sat with his legs outside the tub to have easy access to the supplies. After he checked to make sure the water wasn't too hot or too cold Pope moved your leg so your knee was underneath the faucet. The wound's contact with the water wasn't as bad as you thought, but it could’ve been you were distracted by his soothing touches as he held you close to him. Pope was careful not to get any of the soap in the cut just on the surrounding area and when he was finished he made sure to clean the rest of your blood-caked leg up as well. Once you were all cleaned up, he padded your leg dry before he attempted to put ointment on the tender flesh.

"Is it going to hurt?" You squeaked as he retrieved the ointment from the countertop.

"It might sting, but it shouldn't, '' he reassured you, as he brought the ointment-covered q-tip to your knee, but you couldn't help that your knee-jerked away from his touch.

"Ow, fuck!"

"Y/n, I haven't even touched you yet"

"I know, I know, sorry"

"I promise it won't hurt, y/n, and if it does you can punch me or something" even if it did hurt that bad you couldn’t imagine hurting Pope in any way. He once again leaned back in with the q-tip and sure enough, it wasn't painful at all. The ointment soothed the burning sensation of the area which finally allowed you to relax. He then carefully put a gauze pad on the injury, before wrapping your knee securely with gauze. You slid off the edge of the grimy porcelain tub and onto the ground while Pope stood next to the sink and neatly tucked everything back into the first aid kit.

"Uh, thanks--" your words got lost in your throat when your eyes met his warm eyes "--um, dude?" You felt stupid when it came out as a dumbfounded question and the heat quickly rose to your cheeks. If it was any time for you to die you wish it would have happened right then.

"Yeah, any time, y/n" he shot an endearing smile in your direction and you've never wanted to kiss a man so much before in your life.

You both let the awkwardness settle over you. The two of you riddled with hesitancy, but quietly yearned to confess your feelings to one another. He needed to get out of there. Pope gave you a curt nod and a tight smile, but as he headed towards the door there was vacillation in his movements. Before you lost sight of him from the doorway, he turned back around determined.

"Y/N, I gotta--" you were soon on your feet as the last bit of courage you had for your lifetime allowed you to meet him halfway. He didn't bother finishing his sentence as he decided his actions would speak for him. Pope cupped your face in his soft hands and crashed your lips together. The kiss was sweet, sweeter than anything you've ever experienced before. His plump lips gilded confidently over your timid ones. As the fire inside of you diminished your shyness you shifted yourself forward onto your tippy toes to deepen the kiss. Your movements caused you to pin Pope against the bathroom wall and you could feel him smile against your lips. His velvet tongue dragged against your bottom lip for permission to explore you further and you were more than eager to let him.

"Fucking finally!" The familiar voice of the rowdy klepto caught you guys by surprise causing both of you to jump away from each other.

"I guess I'm forty bucks richer, I knew you had it in ya, Pope!" JJ beamed as he walked towards the two of you and you playfully rolled your eyes at the blonde-haired boy.

"Fuck off!" Pope giggled and slammed the door in JJ's face before he turned to face you.

"Now, where were we?"

#pope heyward #pope fic #pope heyward fic #obx fic #pope x reader #pope heyward x reader #pope x y/n #pope obx fic #pope heyward imagine #pope obx #pope heyward outer banks #pope heyward x you #my fic #pogueit

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tlou-1 · 4 years

Text

Joel Miller x Reader (Home) Chapter 20

Chapter 20 - Joel still hasn't returned from patrol, you set off after him and what you find is beyond what you could have worried about.

You look at the clock again, 11:15 and still Joel wasn’t back. You had been pacing the kitchen with Patrick playing at your feet, Joel was over an hour late. Another half an hour passed and you couldn’t sit in the house any longer. You picked up Patrick and made your way to Maria’s post for the day in town, “Maria it’s been two hours and none of them are back. Looks at the clouds out there, somethings wrong I can just feel it” You plead with her but she just says they have probably bunkered down with the snow, “and nothing on the radio either?” You ask, she shakes her head. Right that settled it, you turned and made your way to your sisters. Before Molly could greet you as she opened the door you began “Joel has been out since dark this morning and still isn’t back. I need you to take Patrick for me”, you try to hand him to her but she says “No”, there is a pause for a moment “No? What do you mean No, Molly I really need” but she interrupts you by grabbing a jacket and locking her door, “Because I am coming with you. We can drop him off at the day care”.

You and Molly try to sneak into the stables to retrieve a horse each but of course Maria had you sussed and was waiting for you. “Maria I need to go out there, I know it sounds crazy but I have a bad feeling” you argue.

“You’re right, it does sound crazy“ she responds, she was always so set on rules.

“Do you know what, maybe it does but it’s your husband out there as well. Tell me you aren’t worried about them being out there with no sleep, in a blizzard with reports of hoards of infected. I am more capable than most folk in this town and I am going out there” you say sternly close to her face and she knew you were not going to budge.

“Okay” she concedes and proceeds to pass you the reigns of the horse and your bag back filled with your gear. “I cant spare many folks to go out with you, Jesse, Dina and Ellie are already out there you can meet them at one of the posts” she explains. Jesus now your worry turned to them but your line of thought is interrupted by the radio, it was Jesse. “Maria, Tommy and Joel didn’t show to trade off” he explained. You take the radio from Maria, “Jesse its Y/N, where were they patrolling? Can you get, Ellie and Dina and meet me there?” You ask, he agrees to your plan. Your sister in laws body language had changed during the exchange.

“We need to go now” you shout to Molly as your get on your horse and take off. Behind you Molly is following and Maria had saddled up obviously now sharing in your worry.

The wind and snow was harsh and whipped at your face as you rode ahead as fast as the horse would carry you, you must have been not far behind Ellie now. Neither Joel or Tommy’s had been at their post but their tracks had led you to a Chalet you had visited a couple of times on patrols. As you approached closer you could see more than two sets of tracks, they were disrupted slightly from the storm but there was defiantly a number of different footprints, other people were here. You had to be smart about this, the rest of the guys were still a bit behind you. You move into the building as quietly as possible and have to take out one guy standing watch at a patio door, he had a fresh cut right across his face. If anyone finds him they will know someone else is here, you had to move swiftly. As soon as enter the lodge you can hear cries of pain, guttural cries. It makes your stomach churn, you were right to have had a bad feeling. One more girl is pacing in the kitchen, you silence her by taking your small knife down on her. It had been a number of years since you had taken the life of a living person but you didn’t hesitate after hearing those cries.

You follow the cries to a narrow staircase with a door at the bottom of it, you could feel your heart in you mouth as you took each step closer to the door. You peer through the slight crack and see a group of unfamiliar people and a figure standing above a bloody one. You take a breath remember where each person was standing, attach your silencer and pushing open the door quietly, you take out the three people closest to the door, one dead ahead the other two to your right side. You were still one of the best shots without a doubt, maybe just as good as Tommy. There were three left by the time they realised what had happened and your presence, a young man standing next to a women with cropped dark hair and a large women standing above the bloody figure, it was Joel along with Ellie and Tommy unconscious.

The man goes to grab a pistol, lying next to the body of one of the men you just shot and without hesitation you reach round to your backpack pocket. Thank god it was still there.

“Don’t any of you fucking move, or I will blow up everyone of us in this room” you spit out as you hold the grenade in their sight. They each stop in their tracks and the large girl standing above your husband loosens her grip on club. Joel tires to speak but barely a sound escapes his lips.

“You’re bluffing, why would y-“ she begins.

“Try me”, you challenge her and there is a long pause “You let them go… you leave here and everyone gets to walk away from this or every single one of us just end it here”. This was madness but what other chance had you got, either way the people you loved could wind up dead, the only thing to stop these strangers was the threat of loosing their own lives and if it meant you went with them, so be it.

“No, not him, not after what he did.” The girl lifted the club but you jump in “What ever he did, I am walking out of here with him, our daughter and that other man alive or none of us are”

“He took everything from us! Killed my father, ruined any chance of a cure” the women says lowly shaking her head.

“You’re fireflies?” You ask looking around at them but you already know the answer from what she had said.

“Were. There are none, left he made sure of that. Killed most of us.” She answers. You speak without thinking, a stupid thing to do.

“I don’t blame him… Protecting her, I would have done the same. They were going to butcher the brain of a child, our daughter for the smallest chance of cure. If that’s the price for a potential cure and humanity were so eager and willing to pay it, we didn’t deserve it. I know that much.”

She looks like she has seen red and goes to lift the club again but before she can send it crashing down one of the fireflies, the man stops her and you have pulled the pin on the grenade keeping your finger firmly pressed on the clip as he intervenes.

“Abby stop! She is going to kill all of us” he pleads with her looking between Abby and the women behind him with cropped dark hair that he called Mel. Your hand is shaking from your firm grip on the clip.

“Are you insane?” The man asked, “When it comes to my family, yes” You reply looking down at Joel and Ellie.

“Figures, crazy man, crazy wife” scoffs the other woman says looking between you and Joel.

“Don’t fucking touch him. I am giving you all a chance, take it. If I let go of this clip, dead or alive it only takes two seconds for this thing to go off”. You try sounding as calm as possible and it seems to pay off but inside your terrified more than you had ever been. In your head you pray, you had never prayed in your life, for them to leave, for the woman to put down the club, for them not to shoot you, for this bomb to be a dud like Joel had said but for them to not find out it was.

You can hear commission from upstairs as the rest of the search party have caught up with you, you had bought all the time you needed. Owen grabs Mel by the arm and leaves through garage door.

“You should go with your friends”

Abby looks torn for a moment her eyes fixed on Joel before she flings the golf club to her side and takes off, on horse back alongside her friends but you felt this part of the past would rear its ugly head again.

As soon as it sounds clear you carefully place the pin back in the grenade and fall to the floor, guess you will never know if it was a dud or you almost killed everyone in this room. Ellie is still breathing but bruised, you look across at Tommy, the same. Your husband, you crawl across to Joel, the ground around him covered in blood you can feel it soaking your jeans.

“Jesus, Joel can you hear me?” you say softly, tears in your eyes from the sight of him. His right eye swollen, strips of blood pouring down his face from a couple gashes he had taken on the head. You were worried to touch him in case it caused any more pain, it was hard to look at him like this.

“You got to stay with me, you cant leave me, you hear? You promised” you cry just as Maria, Jesse, Dina and Molly enter the room.

“Holy Fuck” Jesse whispers. You beg them to help Joel, Dina checks on Ellie who is starting to gain consciousness along with Tommy.

“The storm has almost passed, Jesse and Dina find something we can make a stretcher out of. We can strap it to one of the horses and pull him back”. Maria says at her husbands side, it was the best anyone could do in the dead of winter. No one even thought about going after the remaining three strangers, what was important was the three people who each of you loved in this room.

You rode behind Jesse who’s horse is pulling Joel the entire trip, he sometimes groans or shifts and all you want to do is ask to stop and let him rest but there was no time for it, you had to get back as swiftly as possible. As soon as you arrive back in Jackson men are there to carry Joel’s stretcher into the surgery, you follow behind asking Dr Henry if he would be okay. She didn’t respond focusing solely on Joel, she tells you to stay in the hallway and when you start to protest and push forward Jesse is there pulling you back and when you stop fighting him into a hug. You finally let out a cry from everything, the horror of what you had seen, what you had almost done and at the thought of your husband’s life still hanging in the balance. Everything goes to black for a moment.

*NOTES - I have to say I found this one pretty difficult to write so I apologise if it doesn't land as well as the other chapters. There is just so much that happens. I have decided to deviate slightly from the game, we have all seen the dark ending for Joel in the game so lets try something different

#the last of us fanfic #The Last of Us #The Last of Us Part 2 #The Last of Us Part ii #Joel Miller #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou joel #tloufanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #Ellie Williams #ellie x joel #tlou ellie #tlou dina #tlou jesse

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catzula · 4 years

Text

Confessions.

A\N: is this self-indulgent? Yes, yes it is. And did I cry writing this? Positive. Okay, the thing is, this is something I've been wanting to publish for so long, but I didn't have the courage to do so. But recently, I told someone about the whole ordeal and the reaction I got was so different than I expected, so I thought why not write this? Even if one person sees it and relates, or maybe even encourages them to talk to anyone about it, (even if you don't have anybody please I beg you come to me I'll always listen to anything you want to say), I would be so happy. Please don't think this is because I'm trying to get sympathy points, it's not. I don't want anything like that, just to actually help anyone who was in my situation. This fic (rant more like it) isn't fully based on my situation, mine is different, but I didn't feel comfortable talking about that, oh and this isn't edited, I didn't really want to read it over and over again so idk. So, anyway, I'll be posting one of the requests today too, it's fluff yay and my first aizawa attempt, so... Yeah. A/n is longer than the fic itself, seems like it.

Warnings: delicate subject, mentions of sexual harrasment, reader isn't in a good mental state, guys if it's triggering don't read it please I have no idea if there's any other things that could be triggering

Genre: angst, some fluff in the end

Pairing: bakugou x reader

W.c: 1,6k

You felt weak.

You have never felt this weak before, so helpless and unsafe.

You felt like you weren't supposed to talk about this with anyone. It was like if you told anyone, they would shame you, like they wouldn't believe you, or maybe even tell you it was your fault.

It didn't make any sense, why would anyone think that your logical part asked. But your insecurities wouldn't let you tell anything to anyone, making you feel sick when you tried to even hint it.

So you decided it was the best not to say anything, hide it forever even. Though you thought that was for the best for everyone, it was the hardest thing you probably ever did.

Your friends were aware of how jumpy you were late, how whenever someone touched you for anything, or even brushed you slightly, you froze with fear. But when they asked about it, you would brush it off as nothing.

They noticed how moody you were too, how frustrated you were with everything, crying, or getting mad at random, small things.

How you distanced yourself from people, hid for them, isolating yourself.

It was hard for them to see you like this -you were trying your hardest to smile and laugh like you always did, but they could see how much it hurt you to pretend- but it was especially hard for one certain angry boy. Bakugou was going insane, not knowing what was hurting you so and not being able to do anything about it.

Though he could never admit it, he had a crush on you. The worst kind, at that, or so he thought. He didn't like this feeling, of liking someone so much that you were constantly on his mind, his mood changing according to yours, laughing when you laughed, getting furious when you cried.

And lately, it was killing him. He knew you had feelings for him too, he knew how much you tried to look happy when he was around but it was just hurting you and that was even worse.

It was only until that one day he heard your soft voice, trembling with sadness as you explained what was going on to your best friend, Kirishima.

He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but it was impossible for him to just leave when you were crying so.

"I'm sorry." You told Kirishima between your tears. "I'm so sorry."

***

You knew you had to tell him some time. You just hoped it would be later. But there was no running away when Kirishima pulled you to the roof, making you sit and waiting for you to speak.

"You have to tell me." He told you as you squirmed to get away. "I need you to speak to me, Yn. I need to know so I can help you, you're my best friend and I can't keep pretending nothings going on."

"I can't either." You answered, whispering without even noticing.

"I can't lie anymore, I'm tired." You sighed and hid your face in your hands. "Eiji, you have to promise me you'll listen to me until the end, and don't do anything I tell you not to do."

"Of course." He promised.

"This is about my professor." You finally admitted.

"The one you get along very well with?" He asked cautiously, afraid that wrong words were going to make you stop.

"Uh, yeah." You answered with a dry, humorless chuckle. "Apparently, we weren't getting along for the right reasons." At this, his head snapped up, his eyes locked with yours. "What?!"

"He-he tries to touch me." You mumbled in your hands. "Y/N, what the fuck does that mean?" He tried to stay calm, but how could someone stay calm over that?

Your insecurities infecting you, you felt like he was questioning you, not believing you and you swallowed hardly. "You know what? I-it's really not that important, I exaggerated." You told him, feeling uneasy all of a sudden. But he wasn't having it. He scooted near you, taking your hand in his. "No, Y/N, we have to talk about this! What do you mean by- by trying to touch you?" Your heart hammering in your chest you decided to rip the band-aid off.

"He touches me." You repeated, a lump in your throat, not allowing you to speak more than a whisper. "And he always has that- that smile... that smile that shows he knows what he's doing, and he knows how weak I am, how I can never do anything about it." You went on, feeling the hot tears tumbling down your cheeks. You shuddered with the unwanted memories.

"Did he-" Kirishima stopped talking, wide eyes watching you. "Did he ever..." Although he couldn't finish his sentence, you knew what he meant. "No." You told him. "He never went all the way, it's more like he's toying with me."

"How did this happen?" He asked, words so silent, you almost didn't hear them.

You shrugged. "It started small." Your voice faltering with tears. "At first I thought it wasn't on purpose." You told him as you relived the memories. "His hand sometimes brushed my breasts and my skirt... He would also press his body against mine when he was walking in the hallways..."

Oh my God, this was terrible. Just talking about it made you feel so weak. Why couldn't you just say something, do anything? Why did you always freeze with fear instead of fighting? Maybe some people just didn't have it. Did this make you unworthy?

"Then it just started to get worse. He would full-on grab me when he 'helped' me with my questions, would always come so- so close to me that I could feel him. He started to corner me, made me stay after class, and just always tried to catch me alone."

"Oh my God," Kirishima mumbled, unable to say anything else. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Yes. Why didn't you?

"I was scared." You whispered. "I was scared of- of you thinking I was lying, that I was saying this for attention, that I was exaggerating, that this wasn't important that this was my fault."

Was it your fault? Maybe you could have worn pants instead of skirts. Or maybe you smiled at him too much, did you give him the wrong impressions? Was it really your fault?

His head snapped up, angrier than you had ever seen him. "How could you think all that?" He asked voice laced with anger. "He is a... a well-loved person, Eijirou. Everybody likes him, trusts him and he just looks so nice... Why would anyone believe me when-" You stopped talking when he hugged you once again, tighter than ever before. "I would always believe you."

I would always believe you. Words you longed to hear so damn much, making you cry uncontrollably.

"I feel so weak, Eiji." You said once again, the nickname you had given him falling off your lips for the first time in a while. "I can't even say anything to him... I'm weak... I'm afraid of people judging me, and I just can't feel safe anymore. I can't even trust myself."

"I'm so sorry." He told you between the sniffs he was trying to hide, you thought it was ironic that he was the one apologizing. "I'm so sorry Y/N."

Both of you weren't aware of the angry boy listening to you, shaking with anger and sadness. He couldn't believe there was someone out there making you feel like this when he himself couldn't even dare to tell you his feelings, let alone touch you.

***

"Where are you taking me?" You asked at the boy tugging at your wrists, pulling you somewhere.

Bakugou came to your door the next day he heard your conversation with Kirishima, a plan in his mind to help you, at least a little bit.

"Okay, we're here." He told you. He had brought you on a small field, surrounded by trees and flowers, an empty space in the middle. Your heart beat fastened in your chest, but how could it not when he looked this way to you?

"I will teach you self defense." He told you.

"What?" Wasn't that a little too random? "You heard me." He answered gruffly. "I'll teach you how to defend yourself."

"I- I mean- thank you!" You said, laughing a little. "But I don't understand..."

Oh no.

"Why?" You wanted- needed his answer to be something, anything other than what you had in mind. But it was obvious that it wasn't, when he stayed quiet.

"You heard us." You whispered, hand trembling with fear. The boy you liked, the one you had the biggest crush on, had heard how pathetic you were, how you didn't even have the courage to speak, to push this man's hand and confront him.

"No-" you choked. "It's not what you think." You said as you thought about what you could say, but your mind went blank when his hand caressed your cheek. "Don't." He told you. "Don't lie to me, you don't need to. You don't have to talk about it either, but I'll be here, always here for you to speak, to seek help, and now I will teach you self defense. You said you didn't feel safe, you felt weak. I'll be your safe place if you need me to, but I want you to feel safe yourself too."

You opened your mouth to say something but he didn't let you.

"Look, this isn't because I'm pitying you, or because I think you're not capable of defending yourself. I just- I want to help you, be with you, and this is the only thing I can do."

"Thank you." You whispered and without giving any warnings, you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "You have no idea how much this helps."

A long silence went between you, allowing you to ask that one question.

"But why are you doing all this for me, Bakugou?"

He pulled back with your question, though so slightly that your noses almost touched each other. "It's because-" he stopped, fear clawing in him. What if you didn't feel the same way? He knew you did, but what if you didn't?

He gulped and took a deep breath. You have been acting so brave for the longest time, he couldn't even understand what you had went through- even though you couldn't see how brave you were yourself. So he decided it was his turn to be brave now.

"It's because I'm in love with you." Your breath stuck in you, eyes wide but a smile of relief on your lips. "Bakugou..." You whispered as he leaned in a little more.

"I love you too."

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creepyalienghost · 3 years

Text

Reunited

Deep down in the studio the ink creatures know only pain and struggle. The dreaded Alice Angel sacrifices all who she could get her hands on to fix her scars and her former beauty. The poor prophet sacrificed anyone he could find to please his lord. The projectionist struggled to remember anything other then his loop. Many lost souls struggle to even remember who they were anymore. All they could do is hear the voices swirling in there heads. With others not in the hive mind they either fight to keep themselves alive or hide in their spots, hoping to never run into the ink demon or the Angel.

The prophet was wondering the halls looking for my soup cans when suddenly it dawn on him that creatures were few and far between. Unlike before when you can’t turn the corner without running into one of the Butcher Gangs or seeing a Boris hiding. He found that strange and decided to take a look around though the walls.

He looked through holes, peaked in rooms and even going deep down below and sure enough so maybe we’re missing. All the butcher gang seen to have disappeared. The projectionist was no where to be found and even that new comer Sammy almost sacrificed wasn’t seen. Something was going on. Could this have been his lords doing? Or worst, that wicked angel’s? Sammy wanted to find out but he was also wondering of angering his lord. If it was his doing then maybe his lord would do the same to him...

He was caught up in his thoughts while walking that he didn’t notice the footsteps rushing up behind him until it was to late. The prophet was bagged over the head and tripped. He struggled and yelled for his lord for help as several creatures held him down or sat on top of him. They managed to tie his hands behind his back right before he felt a sharp pain in his neck. He screamed and cursed them out until the drug they infected him with started to work. His body went heavy. His hearing muffled. His sight started to fade. The prophet feared he was dying and had failed his lord. Hell, maybe this was his lords doing. Maybe this was what happened to the rest of them. He thought of this until his mind was even talking from him and soon after that the darkness of ink took over everything.

——-

It all felt like a dream. The sacrifices. The ink. Bendy and Alice. Everything for the pass so many years felt like a long band dream. But Sammy new it wasn’t a dream when his eyes flickered open and vision cleared. The first thing he noticed was that he was laying in hospital bed, hooked up to many Wires going to many different machines. There was one for his heartbeat. Another for monitoring his brain waves. A Machine pumping in blood inside him and the casual iv needle.

Sammy slowly sat up on the bed with Extreme exhaustion to looked around the room he was in. The walls were painted a pale blue and the floors were your typical white polished floor. It looked like any hospital but one from a sci fi movie. There was Technology Sammy has never seen before and has no idea what it is or how it’s use. Ones with big screens and buttons.

Just then a knock came from the door, making Sammy jump a bit and a nurse opened the door with a small smile, walking in. “Hello Mr. Lawrence. I’m glad to see your awake.” She held out hand as she introduced herself. “I’m nurse Beth. I’ll be taking care of you in here.”

Sammy took hold of her hand and shook it. “Thank you.” He replied. “I uh...I’m confused...what happened? How did we get out?...what ...what year is it” he asked as more and more questions start to form.

The nurse sat beside him and sat her clipboard next to her. “We’re not supposed to tell you guys everything right when you come to. It’s going to be broken in parts but I promise you. All your questions will be answered.” She relieved him. “But I am allowed to say you and your friends our at a government base and you guys are all free. Your old coworker Henry Stein came to us and told what Joey drew was doing. You are all safe now.”

Henry stein? Joey drew? His friends. Sammy hadn’t thought about them in so long and now his heart acted. He remembers Norman and the amazing guy he was. But he also remembered Joey. Joey was also a great guy before he lost his mind to the darkness. He missed both of them and badly wants to see them. “Can I see m-my friends?” He asked the nurse.

Nurse Beth nodded her head. “Yes. You may in a bit. I need to give you your daily check up first.”

Through out his check up, nurse Ann explained they would be here for a few weeks to watch and see how they would respond after being ink creatures for so long

and will be helped getting back into civilization with a new job and a home. She told him there be daily health checks in the morning and classes to understand the would now days.

After the check up, nurse Beth lead Sammy down the hallway to the wing where he and his friends would be staying at. “There’s access to a cafeteria for y’all and a tv room with games and books so y’all don’t get bored.” She informed him as she punches the code in for the wing.” Your room is Numble 20.”

“Thank you.” Sammy replied as he walked in. She nodded and closed it behind him. Sammy was on his own know.

There was chatter from down the hall. Some of the voices he recognized. Like Susie’s Jack’s and Norman’s he couldn’t wait to meet them again. He hoped they didn’t have no hard feelings from his role he unwillingly played in all this. However when he rounded the corner they all went silent pretty fast when they one by one noticed him. Sammy could see ether hatred or disappointment in each of their eyes. Norman’s hurt the worst. Sammy quickly got the hint we wasn’t welcome and left to find his room.

He sat in his bed staring at the green wall for some hours before a few security guards came to checked their wing. Sammy overheard one of them talking about Joey to his partner as they passed his room. “The psycho was placed in wing E.” Sammy Heard.

It got Sammy thinking again of their good times before. Joey was such a funny and sweet guy back then, handsome too. He spoiled Sammy with fancy dinners and parties as well as taught Sammy the wonders of magic and occult. It was fun and safe at first, but once Joey got the taste of the darkness is when everything changed. The abuse started, madness and control took over his mind and by then it was far to late to leave everything.

He wondered if Joey was still like that or like the way he use to be. He wanted to take the chance and see him. He stopped the security guard before they left the wing. “Can I see Joey Drew. Just once.” The guard didn’t laugh but looked at him like he was insane. “I know it’s crazy. But please just one time.”

The guard signed in hopelessness for the lost man. “I’ll ask and see if you two can meet.” With that the guard left though the wing doors.

———-

After receiving his check up the next morning, the same guard as before meet him out in the hallway. “Come with me.” He said right as Sammy stepped out. Sammy did so. They walked out the doors to the wing and down hallways, went further down an elevator and came to a new wing. The E wing.

This one was more Secure. The door here was metal and had an automatic lock that would lock it self if an alarm went off.

There was two guards station at the door to in case something went wrong. His guard had his ID checked and a minute later they both were though and heading down that hallway. The guard stopped at one of the meetings rooms and unlocked it. “You two have an hour.” Sammy nodded stepping though. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Joey sitting at one of the tables. One where their breakfast sat waiting.

He was much older unlike them. Of course he was he had been out in the real world growing older. Sammy could see the exhaustion in his face when he looked up at him. He was old and tired. Hair turned gray and wrinkly skin. Sammy realizes he doesn’t have much time left on this earth and this was likely the last time he would see him.

“It’s uh..nice to see you again.” Joey said to fill the silence between them. “ please...have a seat.” He offered and Sammy took it.

“Why?” Sammy ask, ignoring joeys attempt at welcoming. “Why did you ever let yourself get this mad? To start abusing me? To force me to hurt the others and putting us all in that hell?” He ask.

Joeys face turned to guilt and shame then. “I...I had a dream.” He answered Sammy’s question and continued. “That dream lead to magic so I could bring that dream to life which that lead to dark magic which corrupted me.” He sighed, disappointing in himself. “I shouldn’t had let it took me to a dark path, Sammy I am so sorry. If I could go back and changed everything I would.” He buried his head in his hands. “None of y’all deserved that. And you didn’t deserve the abuse I did. I’m really an sorry and I hope you can forgive me enough to enjoy one meal together?”

Sammy thought of this for a moment. He does seem genuine sorry and Is in his last days. He also missed these things they did together as well. Sammy nodded and smiled at Joey. “Let’s share one last meal together.” He replied and switched seats next to Joey. “And. It’s good to see you to”

#bendy and the ink machine #sammy lawrence #joey drew

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hmlegacy · 4 years

Text

My COVID-19 Experience (Long Story)

In late September, around my birthday, my aunt got weirdly sick. This is the aunt that was diagnosed with Stage III or IV stomach cancer last October, in 2019. She took and completed chemotherapy successfully, her cancer is in remission, she was doing great. That being said, she just got off the chemo in perhaps July? If you don’t know, chemotherapy absolutely wipes out your blood cells and depletes your counts. This means you are susceptible to all sorts of illness.

We have been doing every guideline imaginable with this pandemic. We didn’t go out except for necessities--even if we did go out for a superfluity, we had the mask, we wore gloves and disposed of them, and we were constantly washing hands or using sanitizer. From March to October--7 months--we were good. Then all hell broke loose.

My aunt got diagnosed with pneumonia. The doc in the box, however, did get scans of her lungs and found the telltale crystallization and wanted to do a COVID-19 test. My aunt only had a few symptoms but, naturally, they were weakening her supremely. Just got off chemo. Thusly, because of this, she also was taking all necessary measures. Her best friend who lived down the street from her would bring her groceries...however, this best friend is also a community church leader, she would get the food from the banks and redistribute it to the homeless in our urban areas of town. A beautiful gesture...but is putting you around people that probably are not wearing masks.The friend is similarly sick but, due to my aunt’s immune system, her symptoms generate quickly.

My mom takes my aunt to the hospital because she is getting no better treating it as pneumonia. My mother is using the mask and everything but the negligent hospital actually allows her to stay in the room...because they think it’s pneumonia. It is not pneumonia. Come to find out, she is COVID-19 positive.

My cousin and I had a conversation with a longtime cohort of ours. It went like... “I got a call from (aunt’s best friend) and she was making these long dramatic pauses and my heart just plummeted.” I said, “Yea, you thought she was gonna say your mama was gone, right?” “Right! And she was just like...’I’m not feeling well’.” The cohort expressed his confusion as to why we were so...pessimistic. I advised “We’ve been through that call a lot”.

My aunt’s best friend died.

So, so, so much confusion. She was younger than my aunt, had some breathing issues but they were being treated, and she was very energetic. She went to the hospital--the hospital kicked my aunt out, saying it was not ‘safe for her’. My aunt went home...and recovered. They had her friend and kept her. Every day, the story changed but it sounded like...she was getting better? They were giving her steroid treatments, they put her in an induced coma to keep her fever down, the doctor said she’s doing ‘much better’. I woke up to my mother screaming. She was gone. She also had COVID.

My mother...went to where I work in administrative to get the testing. The only person she’d had contact with, really, was my aunt. She also had COVID...and, therefore, the rest of us had COVID.

I’m not describing the time frame well at all. It’s just jumbled. But there were spaces where COVID-19 was dismissed and not on the table by certain professionals. Testing here still is taking upward of 3-5 days. My dad, the hypochondriac, goes to a facility, they diagnose him with upper respiratory infection. Down the damn hill from there.

I love my dad to pieces but he is the most dramatic human being I know. He’s the type of person that will list details about the past and throw in a line like “so really, you’re lucky that you were born” or something to get an emotional response. And because I’m not that person, I’m just like “I mean, if I wasn’t born, how would that have affected me? I wouldn’t be there?”. He’s just a very...emotional human being and I’ll admit...we tend to not always take him seriously as a result.

I started coughing. Tired. Weak. Fatigued. My mom had similar symptoms. Nonetheless, if I had to call it anything, I’d say it was like a moderately bad cold. My dad also had the same but he kept saying, ‘this is bad. I’m telling you, this is bad’. As a reminder, I have T1 diabetes, hypothyroidism, and, per the diabetes, heart disease to a degree so I am not...a great candidate for being around illnesses. But, I trucked through and helped my mom care for my dad...after my aunt’s best friend died, my dad insisted we take him to the hospital.

This probably is where the story diverges away from ration and takes on what many might call ‘conspiratorial’...but, another reminder, we are black. Historically, our medical complaints get ignored until we are fully in the throes of the worst possible outcome or dead. I complained about my heart from the time I was sixteen years old, it was always kind of dismissed as ‘that’s weird’ and a shrug, and it took me having a small heart attack at 28 years old for it to be taken slightly seriously. The hospital that had been keeping the best friend? Well, in my experience, they literally kicked me out perhaps four hours after I had my stent placed. Basically, we don’t trust hospitals often.

My mom is sobbing. My oldest brother is irate. We don’t trust hospitals, he’s like, ‘no, no, don’t take him to the hospital. What happened to best friend is going to happen to him’. I’m thinking, ‘look, I’ll take him to my alma mater’s hospital, they’ll do the testing, they’ll reassure him, and he’ll feel better’. That’s how his hypochondria works, once he knows what it is, he recovers so much better, even if it is the basic cold. So I take him, they give him a pulse ox reader, an inhaler, and tell him to isolate until the results get back and send him home.

We’re all relieved. For a few days. He is deteriorating. I try to treat him for his symptoms but he is not doing great. I took his pulse ox, it was reading 75. Should be in the upper 90s, ya’ll. I called my alma mater’s hospital, she basically admits the things are faulty, but, that if it’s showing that low, it’s probably not a good sign and he needs to come to the hospital. Panic again, I take him back.

By this point, I’m like, ‘Do I even have this thing? I’m treating it like I do but...’. So, when I take him in, I tell them we’ve had exposure and I would like to get tested. The hospital takes me back and a nice nurse tells me, ‘look, this thing is crazy. It’s essentially unavoidable--it’s everywhere. And it is not being addressed correctly’. While not reassuring in any way, this did make me realize it was just a matter of time before this occurred...just wasn’t expecting it like this.

Naturally, because this is where I get all my treatment, they go in and find that, uh, you had a heart attack? And, essentially, they just admitted me. I was like, ‘no, no, I’m okay, I think, I just want testing’. But they give me the whole routine to be safe, x-raying my lungs, blood tests, EKG--my EKG looked normal when I was having the heart attack, I really just want them to stop utilizing this thing. I hung around, they took the test, found everything looked okay...but they are going to admit my dad.

They allow me to go see him which was also crazy and I hung around for a while. He looks really, really bad. This is not his dramatics. I video call my oldest brother and he’s just devastated because, seriously, if any of my dad’s dramatics are at work, it seems like he’s just given up. But he does insist he hasn’t, he just doesn’t know. I tearfully leave him and the doctors here seem a bit bewildered by my response and insist he’s going to be just fine. I look at my online portal results in a few days, I also have COVID.

My older brother is on the autism spectrum. He is verbal to a very, very small degree--he speaks words but you have to know him to know how to apply them (Like “left” means “the highway”). It’s a very short list of words and he doesn’t offer many to us to use to have him understand--mostly because, if anything, he is insanely stubborn and does not want to understand. It is his way or he’s going to have a violent outburst or just flat out ignore, even to his detriment. My mom was eating a bowl of soup--he snatched it from her, something he has never done, and basically drinks it. Before anyone can say anything, he has consumed this bowl of tainted soup and we’re all just gawking at him in horror.

Needless to say, he also got COVID-19. He was...okay, for a bit. Seems to be the story. Then, slowly, he just can’t get out of bed anymore. He starts vomiting, he has gastric issues, he cannot eat, and he is falling. Meanwhile, my dad is in the hospital and I am increasingly fatigued and hurting. My knee injury from 2011 flares up intensely and I am in excruciating pain. I’m like, ‘this cannot be COVID’. Nope. It is, per the nurse assistant I called.

Everything--and I mean everything this illness could have targeted, it targeted. I was nauseous, I was hot (but no fever?), in pain, and tired. But, again, because my mother and I were the least sick in the house, we had to keep trucking along. My dad stayed in the hospital for a week. He started hallucinating and I guess that was the final straw, they said, ‘he’s good’. I went and picked him up, he was...weird. He came home with a lot of tomfoolery and drugs that literally had as the first accepted side effect ‘hallucinations’ and incessant hiccups. Again, another symptom of COVID.

We fixed that. But my poor brother, he was...he was in tough shape. Like, he could not keep anything down. There were days where he seemed to recover and then went back down for the count. Because this particular hospital did so well with my dad, we took him there as well. It’s a little trickier with him, if he does not want to be there...he does not want to be there. He was ready to go by the morning of the next day and was in full angry mode at points. Only my mom could stay, however, so she had no real calming support. They didn’t really get a good grasp on what was wrong with my brother--they tried multiple diagnoses but none of them checked out. They found his anti-seizure meds were destroying his blood counts so they changed that and sent him home...so he could just continue to be fatigued and tired.

Everyone...is okay. My aunt recovered but her best friend and closest companion is gone. The husband’s family blamed my aunt at the woman’s wake, over her body, for her death and, if you ever wonder why I write such dramatic stuff, this is why, this is the nonsense I end up around. I can’t...imagine the pain of not being able to properly attend your best friend’s funeral because of shunning but my aunt was in pieces and I admit, I was ready to go fight some people. My cousin almost did--I promise you, this lady was the sweetest woman and, if there is an afterlife, she is probably just as appalled. Her mom called my aunt and told her not a living soul in the best friend’s family thought she had anything to do with it.

I write this long AF journal to say...this thing is all types of real. I didn’t have it that bad--the mildest form, I would say, compared to most, just aside from being asymptomatic. But I do feel somewhat different. My thoughts feel like they’re in a fog--I’m still a bit tired but I’m always tired. Forgetfulness and jumbled are my biggest peeves though. I’m keeping sharp but, observing it in my parents, it’s a little...concerning. We luckily don’t seem to have longterm breathing issues but...

Bro is okay. I’ll admit to my fault that we didn’t a hundred percent realize how bad that drug for his seizures were. Depakote...was apparently a big component in a lot of his angry outbursts. He’s been having these outbursts for twenty years. I don’t...understand how he had all these doctors that we explained his behavior to and they were just like ‘that’s normal’ when he has meds with these side effects. The new meds, unfortunately, made him depressed so he was crying a lot and we don’t like that either but with some tweaking, he’s...about the nicest guy. Still demanding, really, but he’s...got more patience. Not bursting into tears too much or angry too much, just very balanced and cordial. About...really the only good thing to come out of this.

I will say, do take this seriously. We weren’t fooling around and got this thing, we were helping a family member not die. But that means you can definitely get this with some of the behavior I’ve seen--please, we’re getting new leadership, we’re well into a vaccine--I know people can’t avoid work. I know people can’t always avoid going out either--it is detrimental to a lot of people’s mental health which I don’t think many people on specifically this site grasp? There’s multiple reasons why being contained in a house is not mentally healthy for some people. That being said, don’t...go to weddings with hundreds of people? Don’t have weddings with hundreds of people. I know we all had plans for this year, I know I did--but don’t be a source for anyone having to suffer. If you must, if you want, just keep it small and contain yourself afterward. We are almost there.

My experience was a best outlook outcome...and someone in the story still died.

#covid-19 #covid #experience #journal

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

I Found -Chapter 19

Warnings: smut

Tagging: @alievans007 @hemmyworthy @beheworthy @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

His hands still. Gaze never wavering. Heart thundering in his chest, throat contracting and releasing, brain trying to register the words that had just tumbled from her mouth. She looks...scared. As if there's real threat to be found in what she just said and the new reality that was now surrounding them. In her mind, the threat that occurred outside of the home was less terrifying than his reaction. Or the immediate lack thereof. Silence hangs over the room. Tense. Uncomfortable. A dense blanket thrown over them; suffocating and heavy. Two weeks ago, the announcement would have been met with excitement. His desire to have another baby so quickly after their first fulfilled even sooner than either of them expected. Now the words just linger the air, yet pack enough power to nearly knock him on his ass.

She's watching. Waiting. Anticipating. Tears of worry filling her eyes. Top teeth digging into her bottom lip.

“Tyler...” her voice is barely above a whisper, and when she reaches down to place a hand over his, he snaps out of it.

Knocking her hand away, he returns to the task at hand; his touch rougher than before. Once surprisingly tender fingers now applying unneeded pressure to the cuts and gashes that adorn her legs. Mouth set in a grim line, breathing rapid, methodically applying the peroxide and then pressing it into the skin, placing bandages on the deeper wounds.

“Tyler...” she tries again, attempting to lay a hand on the side of his face, alone to have him use his elbow to push her away once more. “Please say something. Anything.”

“Some of these are pretty deep,” his voice is low and steady. Rumbling deep within his chest. And she winces when he presses just a little too hard on a particularly sensitive spot. “Hopefully we've done enough to avoid infection, yeah? Last thing we need is a trip to the doctor. Let me see your hands...”

She obliges, laying them on her thighs, palms up.

“What a stupid fucking mess,” he grumbles, and he's unsure if he means the injuries she's sporting, her hair brained idea to get out of the house alone, or the bomb she'd just dropped on him.

“I didn't think it possible so soon,” she says, as he tends to the abrasions on her hands. “She's only two months old. I've never heard of anyone having kids that close together. But it makes sense if you think about it. We haven't exactly been one hundred percent careful.”

He sighs. Dumps a little too much peroxide onto her hand and then mutters profanities as it drips onto her shorts and the carpet below.

“I have been sick a lot,” she continues, nervously rambling. “I didn't think much of it because this time I'm sick throughout the entire day. Not just in the mornings. And I have had headaches and trouble sleeping and I get dizzy from time to time, but I thought it was just all the stress from the past couple of weeks. And I know that my cycle has been screwed up and thrown off, but I've never actually skipped an entire one. This one is an entire week and a half late.”

“Turn your hands over,” he instructs, and she does as told. Running a dampened cotton ball along each finer and their respective knuckles. “You were lucky,” he says. “Things could have been a lot worse.”

“Could you please say something?” she pleads.

“Am I not talking?” he retorts, the harshness in his voice surprising even him.

“Not about this. I know how you feel about this. You think I was a dumb ass. That I was irresponsible. Careless. Foolish. You're pissed off that I put Ovi and Amelia in danger.”

He nods in agreement.

“But I need you to say something about the other...thing.”

“I don't know what you want me to say,” he admits, and reaches for the bottle of peroxide, applying and tightening the cap.

“Anything at this point in time. Or even some kind of reaction, at least. I need to know what you're thinking. What you're feeling. Because I don't like this. This silence. The way you get when you hear something you don't like.”

“It's not that I don't like it. And under different circumstances I'd be over the fucking moon. But right now...” he inhales sharply, then lets the breath release slowly as he finally composes himself. Is he shocked? Angry? Disappointed? Worried? Maybe a mix of all of those emotions? “...this is definitely not a good time for this.”

Was it ever as far as they were concerned? What was with the habit of introducing life altering decisions at the wrong possible times? It was as if bullshit was profoundly attracted to them. Reminding them just how fucked the start of their lives together actually was. Fate deciding that nothing could ever just be simple.

***

“You were the one that wanted another baby this soon,” she reminds him. “A week and a half ago you were talking about wanting them really close together. What's changed?”

“Everything. Everything's changed. Look where we are,” he can't control the anger that seeps from his voice. The frustration. “We can't even go home. We don't even have a home anymore. We have no idea where are going after this. All we have is our passports and whatever clothes we packed. We have nothing.”

“We have each other. We have our daughter. And now Ovi.”

“Where the hell are we going to go? We don't even have anything set up. So we just get on a plane and see where we end up? Hope we like it? Just say 'fuck it' and hope for the best?”

“I already told you that I was fine with Colorado.”

“And until we find a place there? We live in shitty hotels, eating shitty food. I have to go out and find a job. Somewhere that doesn't expect a resume. How do you think that would look on paper? Hired killer in the prior experience section? Or is that more a life skill?”

“That isn't the only thing you do,” she reminds him “It never was.”

“It's a big part of it. I kill people. Sometimes in the worst ways possible. And sometimes I do good. Sometimes I rescue people. That should find me a lot of jobs, yeah? When people see mercenary under previous employment?”

“There's so many things you can do,” she reasons. “So many things you'd be good at. You said it yourself that you could try construction. You could get into factory work even. Or roofing. Masonry. You've always been really good with your hands.”

“Sure. When I'm beating the hell out of someone or strangling the shit out of them. Not the experience most people are looking for, love.”

“There will be something,” she assures him. “You're smart. Crazy strong. Healthy for the most part. There's a lot you can do. And as far as shitty motels and shitty food, at least we'll have a roof over our head and food in our stomachs.”

“That's not the life I want for the daughter we already have, not to mention another kid. This is a bad time. Probably the worst possible time. With this job and the bullshit that comes with it and not knowing where the hell we are going to end up. And now have Ovi we're taking along and...”

��“Ovi is the least of our worries. He's a teenager that can take care of himself. Please tell me you're not upset,” her voice trembling, tears threatening once again. “Please tell me that you're just shocked and you're not legitimately upset.”

“Shocked is one word for it, I suppose.”

“Because if it is true, if I am, it's not like you'd want to do anything about it right? Like you wouldn't want to get rid of it or...”

“What?” he asks incredulously “No. Never. I'd never think anything like that. You should know me better than by now. I'm surprised. I never thought it could happen this soon. And for the time it's happening at,” he shakes head, runs the palms of his hands along his thighs, knees popping and cracking as he stands up. “It's not the thought of having another baby that I'm upset about. And I'm not even upset. I'm...” he chooses his words carefully, wishing to avoid any further conflict between them. “...worried. I'm worried about having a baby in the midst all of this shit. About not even knowing where the hell we're going after this. With a teenager and another baby in tow. Without even so as much as proper medical care. If we don't have a proper place to live...”

“We'll manage,” she says. “We always do. Even when all the cards are stacked against us, we always manage to pull it together and make things work,” she takes his hands in hers, turning the palms up towards her; eyes never looking away from his own, fingertips gliding along each of his digits, over callouses on his palms, and down onto the insides of his wrists. “We always get through things. Always.”

Nodding in agreement, he attempts a reassuring smile. If there was one thing that they were exceptionally good at...aside from sex...it was their ability to work together and overcome seemingly insurmountable odds. Events that would make most couples and relationships crack under tremendous pressure. Instead of running when things got tough, they banded together. Worked even harder to make things work.

“I'm sorry,” her voice bears a hint of remorse. Maybe even some guilt. “I know this isn't the way you thought your life would turn out. The way you thought things would go for you. If someone had have told you a year ago that you'd be a husband and a father...”

“Esme...love...listen to me...” he is on his knees once again, ignoring that stabbing, burning pain that accompanies getting into such a simple position. “...listen to me...” he takes one of her hands in both of his, raising it to lips and pressing a tender kiss to the inside of her wrist. “...a year ago, I was thinking of saying 'fuck it' and putting a gun in my mouth. I was so sick and tired of all the bullshit. All the pain I was in, all the crap going on inside my head. And then you showed up completely out of blue at my place and changed everything. I don't regret what happened. Sometimes I wonder if things would have been easier if they hadn't have happened the way they did. I mean, how did G not mention that his wife had an insanely hot, single cousin?”

She gives a little snort.

“I so would have hooked up with at their wedding. That's all I'm saying. You wouldn't even have had to get me that drunk.”

A laugh this time. Short. But it's there at least.

“You came into my life when I needed someone the most. And I didn't even realize that I did. Just one day you were there and everything changed. For some reason it became easier to breathe again. You know, you say all the time that I came along and rescued you, but it was really you that rescued me.”

She gives a small, sharp intake of breath, taking back by the honesty in his confession. Tyler Rake was a man of very few words, but often the ones he did say came with an overwhelming impact. She takes his face in her hands, his beard scratching her palms as she leans forward to kiss him.

He can taste the salt of her tears on his lips, and when he pulls away they are flowing freely down her face; marking clear paths through the mud and grime that tarnishes her skin. Eyes closing as her hands slip around to the back of his head, nails lightly digging into his scalp as she presses a kiss to the bridge of tip of his nose, then the bridge, followed by under each eye and then his brow. A gesture so pure and tender that his own tears threaten and a lump of emotion lodges square in his throat. Head falling forward when her palms move to his face once more. Enjoying the way her nails scrape through his beard and the the pads of her fingers as they trail over his lips.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” he inquires, and he can feel her smile against his lips as she kisses him.

“I don't know. Is it working?”

“Yeah...it's working...” he confirms with a chuckle, opening his eyes and turning his face into her hand, pressing his lips against the bruised palm. “....we should get you cleaned up,” he suggests. “Feeling better?”

She nods. “I'm sorry. For sneaking out like that. And for taking Amelia and Ovi with me.”

“You scared the shit out of me. When you walked in and all I saw was blood...it scared the ever loving shit right out of me. This isn't like you. Doing things like that. You of all people know better. You're usually smarter than this.”

“Maybe it's the hormones,” she suggests, dragging her fingertips along the sides of his throat.

“We don't know for sure that there's a baby in there. It could have just been you being doing something stupid.”

“You must be rubbing off on me. You've been suggesting a lot of stupid shit lately.”

“How do you know it's not you rubbing off on me?”

“Because...” she tugs playfully at his earlobes. “...everyone knows I'm the brains and you're the muscle.”

“More like Beauty and the Beast. I'll let you decide which one of us is the pretty one.”

“You actually happen to very pretty. Well maybe not pretty. Pretty isn't the right for someone like you. With all that swagger and broodiness. And the beard and the tattoos? Pretty doesn't accurately describe you. More like, devastatingly handsome. Sexy as fuck. Those fit better. I remember walking into your place and thinking damn, he's fine as hell.”

“I asked Nik if she'd brought you there because the two of you wanted a threesome,” he admits, and she swats him across the chest. “You were cute as hell with your ponytail and your little shorts and those freckles across your nose. Until you downed two glasses of scotch and went from cute to hot as fuck in the blink of an eye. I almost wanted to marry you right there and then.”

“I don't know what world you're living in, but marrying someone and wanting to bend them over the kitchen table and have your way with them are not the same thing,” she teases, and it's turn to kiss her before struggling to get into a stand. “That bad, huh?”

“That bad,” he confirms, not knowing where to turn his attention first: knee or shoulder. “Come on,” he says, and offers a hand. “Let's go.”

“Where?” she asks, her fingers curling around his.

“Clean you up. Maybe I'll even wash your back for you.”

“And other places too?” she inquires hopefully.

“Only if you ask nicely.”

She grins.

Who says romance is dead?

****

“I can't believe you actually talked me into this,” Tyler remarks ten minutes later, when he finds himself immersed in a bubble bath. The tub is unusually wide and long; large and deep enough to comfortably fit his six foot three frame. The water is as hot as the human body can possibly stand, and it brings almost instant relief to his throbbing muscles and joints. “I'm going to smell like fucking flowers for a week.”

“Well, to be specific, you're going to smell like lavender for a week,” his wife says, as she lounges between his splayed thighs, back pressed against his chest. “Lavender is supposed to be very good for relaxation and sleep,” she continues, as she scoops up a handful of suds and blows them the length of the tub. “You know...” she nestles her head back against shoulder “...I realize I said I'd be perfectly content living with you in that old shack of yours, but I could get used to having a tub like this.”

“A tiny thing like you would probably do laps in it,” he chides, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck and chuckling when she elbows him in the gut. “You realize you're freakishly short, don't you?”

“Excuse you! How do you know it's not you that's freakishly tall?” she counters, giggling when he gently bites down on her shoulder.

He combs his hand through her damp hair; fingers pushing through the knots. Slowly moving from her forehead all the way down through those thick, dark tresses, then pushing them over her shoulder and placing a kiss on her ear. Hands finding hers under the water, their fingers entwining.

He closes his eyes, resting his head back against the cool marble tiles, allowing the hot water and the scent lingering in the air to calm him. Filled with a sense of peace and relaxation that he hasn't felt in a long time, the pain going from a throbbing, burning sensation to a dull, manageable ache. And he is stuck in that hazy place between sleep and consciousness when he feels her move against him. Arching an eyebrow she releases one of his hands in favour of wrapping her fingers around his cock.

He grins. “Can I help you?”

“Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of how I can help you,” she confesses, that delicate hand expertly stroking him. Long and slow upwards movements that have him hard in no time. Lips pressed against her ear when he issues a low growl.

“You are so good at that,” he praises, as his eyes close and his head falls back once more. His hips jerking forward when her thumb brushes against the engorged head. She is good. Way too good, in fact. The best pair of hands he's ever had on him. Always able to bring him close to the edge in record time.

Sliding his hand between her legs, he presses his palm against her shaven mound and slips his middle finger inside of her. It's her turn to sigh; back of her head falling against his chest as her eyes flutter shut. His free hand moves to her left breast,cupping it gently, those callouses scraping against the hardened nipple before taking it between his thumb and forefinger and pinching lightly. Her noises are louder now; whimpering and moaning as his finger moves inside of her, his palm coming in direct contact with her clit.

Her hand tightens around his cock and the strokes become harder. More forceful. Hand moving from head to base, until his hips are moving on their own accord, a mixture of guttural moans and profanities tumbling from his lips. He adds a second finger; pushing the two as deep as they can go, using them to fuck her at a steady pace until her entire body tenses and she cries out.

Even in her orgasmic haze her hand continues to pleasure him. Rapid, sloppy jerks that have him coming as well; her name flowing from his mouth like a well rehearsed and favourite prayer.

They settle against one another. Their breathing ragged, their bodies still trembling as their hands relax and slip out of their respective places.

“Better?” she asks. “Relaxed yet?”

He grins. “I'm getting there.”

****

Their bodies are still damp as they make love in the middle of the ornate king sized bed. His hands planted on the mattress on either side of her head, supporting his weight on his outstretched arms as he moves inside of her. Long, smooth strokes that have her wrapping her legs around his waist and her feet digging into the small of his back. Her hands roam his body. Fingers exploring his muscular arms; over the veins in his wide forearms, and along his bulging biceps and strong, powerful triceps. Up to his shoulders and then down his back. Loving the way the muscles move under her hands. He is all smooth skin and powerful physique, and her nails skim down his spine and grab at his ass, attempting to pull him deeper.

He groans. Head falling forward, hair tumbling across his brow. She lifts her head to kiss him as her fingers scrap along his rib cage and her teeth lightly clamp down on his tongue.

“Jesus Christ...” he breathes, and a hand leaves the mattress in favour of sliding an arm behind her back, flipping them over.

His hands settling on her hips as she rides him. Slow and steady at first, allowing him to slip completely out before she sinks back down again. Repeating the movement several times as his fingers bite into her hips and he watches her; the flushed cheeks and closed eyes, the sheen of sweat on her body and her breasts bouncing with each movement. And with one hand still on her hip encouraging to move faster and harder, his other hand comes up to fondle her breasts. Twisting and pulling at the nipples until he feels those powerful inner walls beginning to tremble and contract around him. And he presses a finger to her clit, rubbing it in smooth, firm circles until she's crying out in ecstasy.

As she comes down from her high, she collapses forward onto his chest, and he seizes both hips and thrusts up into her until she comes a second time. More powerful than before, causing him to reach up to clamp a hand against her mouth to muffle the scream that escapes her. He grits his teeth and keeps his pace; until his stomach starts to flutter and he feels the pressure building in his balls and the small of his back. And as he comes he buries his face in her shoulder. Inaudible noises and words and slipping from his mouth.

He wraps his arms around her slender body. Holding her close as she buries her face in the hollow of his neck.

He's asleep in minutes.

****

She hasn't had the nightmare in months. For weeks after the job in Dhaka and Tyler's near death on the bridge, she'd been badgered by vivid recollections of the event. Scared to close her eyes and actually succumb to sleep in fear of the reliving the horror. They were shockingly vivid, as if she had been transported to the very moment...the very second...that it happened. As he gunned down the last of those standing in the way of a safe crossing and struggled to make his way towards them. Bleeding profusely from bullet wounds and grazes and embedded shards of glass. The right knee shattered; the ligaments and tendons torn and muscles strained and severed, having to drag his leg behind him over the last fifty meters. It had been so close yet so far, and she, Nik, and Ovi had been filled with a sense of hope. In awe of the comeback he had made. Hoping and praying, counting down those last feet that he had to go.

And then that single gunshot; the bullet puncturing the jugular vein and bringing him to stand still. Shock registering on his face, revolver dropping from his right hand, his left coming up in a vain effort to stem the stem the flow of blood.

It is always in slow motion; the last thirty seconds in which he collapses to the ground and drags himself across the cement and onto the sidewalk. Nik valiantly attempting to refrain Ovi from running to Tyler's aid and ordering Esme to stay where she was. It wasn't safe; the kid who'd shot Tyler had gotten away despite her last ditch efforts, and there was no telling where he was hiding. And then her and Ovi were running together, rushing to comfort the man that lay dying in a pool of his own blood on that littered and cracked sidewalk. Feeling the blood that seeps through her clothing as she kneels down beside him; tasting her own tears as on her lips as she holds his face in her hands and begs him not to give up. To hang on just a little while longer. Help was on the way; he just needed to hang on. She tells him that she loves him. That she tried to stop feeling the things she did, but it had been impossible. That he had made her promises and they talked about plans for their future; of getting to know one another better, of seeing where things would take them.

She's never reached the end of the dream. She has no idea of it ends the same as real life or if his death plays out. She is always awake by that point; crying out and bolting up right in bed, sweat coating her limbs and her stomach churning. Her brain struggling to orientate herself with her surroundings, heart hammering wildly in her chest. And when the fear settles and she realizes just where she was, she would sob: a mixture of terror and relief. For what she had seen and an ending that could have been much, much worse.

Tonight is different; she can hear Tyler's voice and feel the strong, warm body beside her. His hands on her shoulders; gripping tightly and shaking her out of her near hysteria. Her first instinct is to fight; brain convincing her that there's a threat right beside her. And she grabs at his hair and directs punches to his chest and uses her knees in an attempt to push him away. But his size and strength are his advantage and he uses them, wrapping both arms around her torso to secure her arms to her sides and then effortlessly flipping her onto her stomach, Pinning her into the mattress.

“It's okay...” his voice is low, soothing. As is the heat of his body against hers. His arms loosen their grip and a hand comes up to rest on her head, lips against her ear as he strokes her hair. “...calm down...it's over...it was just a dream...” and he repeats that mantra until he finally feels her body relaxing under the weight of his own. Muscles releasing and heart rate settling. “...it was just a bad dream...” he says. “I'm here. I'm right here. Just listen to my voice.”

It takes several minutes for her to fully come down from the adrenaline high that had surged through her body. And he continues to hold her, assuring her that everything is fine. That he's here with her and not going anywhere. That he's alive and well and he loves her. More than he could possibly ever tell her.

Eventually he rolls over onto his side, a hand tangled in her hair as she turns to face him.

“You haven't had one of those in a long time,” he says, voice heavy with worry and sleep. “The bridge?”

She nods, lower lip trembling.

“Come here...” he pulls her into him; a hand on the back of her head as she settles her face in the hollow of his throat. Fingernails digging into his shoulders as she clings to them. “It's okay now. It was just a dream, love. Just a bad dream.”

“It's almost been a year,” she whimpers, her entire body shivering despite both his body heat and the humidity that hangs heavily in the air. “Two more days.”

“I know. It's probably why you had one. You're too busy thinking about it.”

“It's hard not to,” she reasons. “Don't you think about it? You're the one who went through it. How do you not think about it?”

“I try not to. You know I don't remember much after the kid shot me. You know how hazy things are. How I'm not sure if I am actually remembering things or if my brain is making them up and convincing me they're real.”

It is both a blessing and a curse. He can remember seeing her beside him. Feeling her hands; one covering his own that clutched at the wound in his neck, the other on the back of his head. He knows that she was begging him not to give up. Assuring him that help was on the way. That all he had to do was just hang on a little while longer. And that she loved him. That she didn't regret falling in love with him that soon.

After that...nothing. The next memory is of waking up in hospital room and being filled with immediate panic; ripping at the IV in his arm and attempting to tear out the breathing tube shoved down his throat. And she was by his side then as well, fighting to keep his hands from causing even more damage, attempting to calm him down in that soft, soothing voice.

He'd been relieved that that was the first voice he heard. The first face he'd laid eyes on. He had expected her to be gone. The nightmare of what happened and the need to get away from it driving her away from him. That hadn’t known each other that long, and maybe the bond that they’d formed and the intimacy they had shared -both during sex and in those quiet, reflective times afterwards- wasn’t as strong as he’d thought it was.

But she’d been there. Right by his side. Strong and stoic. Far braver than he could ever hope to be.

“I'm starting to think you're the lucky one,” she says. “That it’s better that you don't remember.”

“Did I say it back?”

“What?”

“You told me that you loved me. On the bridge. I remember hearing you say that. Did I say it back?”

“You couldn't say anything back. You were choking on your own blood.”

“But did you feel it?” he has no idea why he needs to know. But it feels important. That maybe being reminded of that moment will help clear up the clutter and the confusion in his brain.

“You looked at me. When I said it. You looked right at me and you tried to smile. And you squeezed my hand as hard as you could. I thought maybe that was a sign. That you were trying to say it back.”

He screws his eyes shut and tries to remember; straining his mind to come up with even the smallest of details. He knows what he felt leading up to the moment he was shot. That he had counted the steps as he made his way towards her. Determined to live up to all the promises he made. Fulfill his half of the plans that they’d come up with as they lay together in that rumbled bed in that dirty Dhaka hotel room. After that, everything comes in bits and pieces. Shattered fragments that are out of order and never fall into place no matter how hard he tries to force them.

“I felt it,” he says. “I know I did. I felt it when I sent you off with Ovi and Saju. When you looked at me. You looked so scared and lost and I remember thinking that I was going to do whatever I had to get to that bridge. To get to you.”

She smiles against him, pressing a kiss to his throat.

“I didn't want to send you away with them. But I had too. I didn't have a choice.”

“I know. I hated you at that moment. I was so angry. That you were making me leave. And I was worried that was the last time I was ever going to see you. I didn't want that to be my last memory of you. That I was angry.”

He remembers kissing her. A hand on the side of her face as his lips lightly brushed hers. And thinking that he could gladly go the rest of his life being able to kiss her every day.

“I wouldn't leave you unless I had to.”

Those had been his exact words. The final thing he had said to her before sending her off.

She sniffles and yawns against him. Her body nestling even tighter against his. Listening to his heart beating in his chest, feeling his smooth skin and hard body against his. The way his hand strokes her hair and the weight of his chin rests on the top of her head. Those strong, powerful arms wrapped tightly around her.

And he holds her like that until she succumbs to sleep once more.

Safe. Secure. Protected.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #chris hemsworth #i found #extraction

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shimmerjjang · 4 years

Text

...so what have I been up to? (2020 Update)

So, how are we all holding up?

I have been seriously MIA for months and my previous Nov 2019 post makes it more apparent than ever. This month of May marks one year since a life-changing experience came to me. Since then, I began to re-evaluate my life which drove me to the decision to take a break, give my mental and spiritual health more care and pursue for the ‘more important things’.

Well hello, this is me with zero makeup on. Ever since the Covid-19 pandemic cornered us into quarantine almost 2 months ago, my skin’s been free from all the makeup I used to wear. A lot of my palettes, cushions, eyeliners have remained untouched since the lockdown began. It’s both the lack of motivation and giving my skin a rest. haha!

I’m on the verge of forgetting what makeup feels like! Here’s my last photo with full makeup on and I think I took this late February? Here’s to hoping that I can go back to making beauty blog posts and videos. *glass clinks*. You can see some of the old ones I uploaded on Instagram and Youtube!

And just when I thought I have all the time in the world during home quarantine, I personally felt like I (our entire household) got somewhat busier? It might be because of all the huge daily adjustments - from trying to do all types work and errands from my laptop to the intensely tasking grocery run. I’m sure a lot of you can relate.

Going back to how my go-to bag looks like before the pandemic, 70% of its content would be beauty essentials. Man, I even bring 7 lipsticks at once! But now, my go-to backpack consists of eco bags, bank card (very few cash because I want to minimize contact with the virus as much as possible), face masks, and a bunch of disinfectants! Before, there’s no way I’ll leave the house without my makeup kit, but now? I just don’t have any space for it.

Oh, and that pink spray bottle there? It used to contain my super favorite body spray from Etude House, but that one now contains alcohol.

LOL I know I looked like a joke, but this is how it is now every single time I go out. Even if it’s just to a mini mart that’s 5 minutes away. Grocery shopping used to be so fun and simple but right now, I’ve realized how I took so many things for granted. The lines would take hours, with every step there’s this worry that I might touch something that would infect me. It may seem like I’m really paranoid, but I spray disinfectants on the seats, the rails, the push cart..every single thing I could think of! I just can’t risk it. At home, we also have a table prepared by the garage wherein we disinfect every single product we purchased before we bring ‘em in. Whew, it’s extremely tiring.

So that’s why we’re gradually shifting to having more stuff delivered. I’ve always been into cooking so it’s not something I just started during ECQ. But the thing is, it used to be a hobby that I would do when I’m “in the mood”, otherwise we can all just eat out or get food delivered. When the quarantine started, it became a daily task! It's fun but girllll, the hardest part is to come up with a menu! Thank goodness I joined this FB Group called Quarantine Cooking wherein members share recipes. It also introduced me to Session Groceries, wherein I made one of the best fruit and vegetable purchases of my life haha Everything is so fresh! Hm, I think I’m going to blog about my cooking shenanigans here too!

Ahhh..

It’s pretty insane to think that this mini online home of mine used to publish almost every day back when I started in 2011. But things have changed. I can’t seem to completely wrap my head around the fact that things have changed so much through the years. The world has changed. I have changed. It’s a thought that makes me sigh. At this point I’m beyond grateful that God gave me an opportunity to heal before all of this happened. Regularly reading uplifting articles truly helps me during these trying times.

I hope you're also doing your best to stay strong. Hang in there! You’re not alone <3

‘til our next blog post. :)

#jjangbites #daiy life #personal #covid-19 #coronnavirus

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beyainica-blog · 6 years

Text

Guess who’s in the 230’s?

A bit bittersweet considering I could have been this weight monday. But I will take it and stop beating myself up.

I am literally 9lbs away from the 220’s. 13 days left until valentines day.

My goal is to get to 220 on valentines. I mean I want to be lower but I will take that. I’m 18lbs away with 13 days left. I need to lose 1.4lbs a day for 13 days to get there. I think I can do it.

Lets start with the bad.

Heart?

Even though I only workout 7-14 mins every day I have been STRUGGLING to get through my workouts. Like it takes me an hour at the gym to complete 14 min workouts. I have no idea what it could be. It honestly could be a whole host of things. I had pneumonia last week, even if the virus is gone. I read that you will feel fatigue for weeks after. Also, I’m on a liquid diet, I’m going to be tired anyway. And on phentermine. My heart is literally racing which it didn’t before, just after pneumonia. Like during my workout I can feel my heart beat out my chest. I guess the caffiene doesn’t have a buffer because I don’t eat

I am extremely weak. At work I try my very best to hold it together. But I feel faint. Luckily it hasn’t been so busy so I don’t have too much to do but still. I’m lucky I have my powerade, it gives me a LITTLE energy and there is enough sugar to keep me standing. I honestly think I’m burning too many calories for not eating anything. Like I don’t count the calories I burn at work standing, I only count when I work out. But yes I do burn calories standing everyone does. Idk if I should shorten my workouts on days that I work. It would be pretty dumb of me to drive to the gym for a 4-5 min workout. It’s already stupid of me to drive there for a 7 min workout. But I will do it. Maybe not workout days I’m working. Idk. I’m losing weight rapidly. I don’t want to give up working out because I want to be toned by the end of it. All of this stress I’m putting myself in is taking a toll on my heart so I need to take it easy.

Take little steps to make it better.

1. Take phentermine AFTER my workouts. See if my heart beats less

If that works thats how I’ll do it. I only took phentermine before because it helped my energy. Thats when I was restricting with food not liquid.

To help with energy. HONESTLY. I don’t drink enough. I think I’m cute and dainty when I don’t finish my powerades because I never do. Like not on purpose I just dont feel like it. Powerade is the only source for electrolytes for me. So I HAVE to drink it. Electrolyte imbalance can also affect heart rate. Honestly I don’t drink powerade or enough electrolyte water which I special order and have been since my water fast. My regime should be to drink a litre of electrolyte water and a whole powerade. Thats enough electrolytes I feel. Tommorow, I’m bringing my 50fl ounces Assentia water that I got for .79 cents which is normally $3. I am drinking that entire thing. You know what I can start doing drinking my water in the car. On my way to work start on it. Don’t start at work. Its less stress to finish. Start finishing my water before I even touch my powerade.

I have to bear with the weakness. I’m fine somewhat its not unbearable yet. I feel the most exhausted after work. I feel like because I’m in a public setting my body just knows to keep it together. I hope I don’t faint until I’m in the 180’s at least. I won’t be THAT heavy but still a complete fat ass.

I plan to keep this liquid diet going. If I become overwhelmed the first thing I will stop is exercise. Even though the workouts are short af. Thats the first thing to go. On days I don’t work. If the problem continues I may have to alternate. One day liquid. One day 500 calories + exercise. I want to be skinny but I want to be alive with minimal damage. Eating isnt binging. Binging is ordering 16 tenders and an X large pizza from Papa Johns with chocolate and a litre of coke. I didn’t plan to eat at all during feburary, but you bet your ass I will if I ABSOLUTELY have too. Honestly I feel like it would make the weight loss faster. Eating 500 is higher than what my body is accustomed to now, so my metabolism will get faster. Like I said, only when I feel like I HAVE to I will eat. The worst thing is having to exercise everything off. Thats what I hated the most about restricting. I love on this liquid diet I only have to workout 7-14 mins a day. Imagine. 14 mins of exercise to burn off a powerade. 5 chicken tenders at 108 calories each would take 32 mins. Thats insane. But at least I’ll have the energy for it.

I am addicted to this FAST weightloss though. I woke up at 240lbs honestly. After work I was 238lbs exactly. We love flunctuations.

Sweating

I have always been a sweater. Like this is genetics. Even when I was younger and skinnier I sweat. But as I’ve gotten bigger I notice that I sweat ALOT more. Its so fucking emberrassing. I’m so scared at work. Literally was getting slight vagina sweat. I can’t even think about it. Everyone will think my vagina is diseased. Its just sweat. I wear a waist trainer. 1. To hide my belly. 2. So it can catch my back sweat. It only goes to my back so I have to wear a tank top under neath. I don’t have a good one because I refuse to spend money on it. Maybe I should start wearing my sports bras and tank until I lose a bit of weight. I started wearing a long sleeve to hide my bat arms but I get so over heated its not even funny. Like I start to sweat everywhere. Yeah having three articles of clothes will make anyone sweat. Of course the heater is on in the resturant I work at because its winter. Mix that with running around to tend to guests you have a sweaty bitch. Being fat doesnt help at all. Neither does being gentically proned to sweat. It makes it 10x worse. So I had to take off my longsleeve at work today because I just clocked in and vacuumed and could already feel the sweat accumulate. AND I JUST GOT THERE. I said nah.

But I guess good news my work shirt is a lot bigger on me, hides my bat arms better than before. The only thing I hate is you can still see my stretch marks on my arms. But they have cleared a bit, it use to be deep ridges in my arm but I lost almost 70lbs. When I get to 200lbs I don’t think they will be there anymore. I’m certain by 180lbs they won’t I bet my life.

My work uniform is black so that makes it worse though I’m thank ful. Today I had to shave my vagina and armpits to stop the sweat some what. Only to wear polyester under wear because again. I don’t wear underwear and I refuse to buy them unless they’re a medium or small. Right now large gives me wedgies so maybe I can fit into a M/L idk but I gotta get more under wear don’t have a choice because I can’t work without underwear. You know Idk if its because I had pneumonia, or if its the phentermine, or if its the liquid diet. But weeks before I didnt sweat this much. I went to work frequently without underwear. I wore my long sleeve shirt no problem. Now its a problem. Sweat can also be caused by fighting an infection. Maybe I’m still fighting the pneumonia. The thing about pneumonia is even after the virus is eliminated by antibiotics its still going to kick your ass for a few weeks. Fatigue and cough

Another thing is I move so fast at work by the time I get back to my post I’m sweating its good but, bad at the same time

Weight is still an issue and why I sweat so much so this is just an incentive to lose more weight.

Goals

I see my doctor on the 22nd or 23rd a week after valentines. I hope to be 209 or lower. By then and if I can keep on this diet I think I can. Last time I was there I was 254 (260 on their scale) so 209 will be a PLEASANT suprise and they will be very happy. Thats a 51lb weight loss and thats ALOT of weight. They will literally worship my feet and give me more phentermine they’ll give me anything I want. Though I gotta do blood work so thats like $168 but its okay it has to be done I understand. I made alot this pay period and the only thing I have to pay is, registration, tax, inspection, gym $10, mom and buy more water and powerade. I should have like $200 left. If not I deffo get paid again the 15th of this month. The 2nd of March. (The day after my cheat day) so my cheat day is on a thursday. Good. Maybe I’ll push it to saturday. Or the day I’m off. Definetly want to be out of the 200’s by the end of feburary thats my top goal.

Valentines day

I hope I’m not hyping it for nothing. I hope I get something from someone.

If I lose 2lbs for the next 13 days I’ll be 212lbs on valentines. (Could have been 207)

If I lose 1.5lbs for the next 13 days. I’ll be 218lbs (could have been 213)

If I lose 1lb a day for the next 13 days I’ll be 225lbs (could have been 220 exactly)

I hope I lose at least 1.5lbs a day consistently. So far I been losing 2-3lbs everyday. 3lbs mostly I would love to lose 3lbs a day for 13 days that would be EXCELLENT. That would put me at 199lbs exactly (could have been 194) imagine if that actually happened. I would DIE. I’m 39lbs away from getting out of the 200’s I’m excited. I just hope I’m losing weight for a reason. Honestly lose 1kg a day is reasonable I eat less than 300 calories a day, and I bet you my starting weight was more than this girl whoever she is. If I get to 199lb by valentines. Bitch. I will be 180lb by the end of feburary. Plateau nor metabolism will stop me.

Boss

Lately I noticed that every time I go to work I work with my one manager that likes me. I can tell he likes me because the other manager which is his friend is always around. They giggle and stare at me. He makes the schedule so that I only work with him. Its kind of cute. I like how I make him shy. But sometimes I get flustered. He catches me off guard. He walks REALLY slow towards me its kind of nerve racking. I purposely dont look at him because its emberrassing. He keeps coming up to me but saying ABSOLUTELY nothing. Adorable.

Jeans

I really wanted to wear size 9 jeans, on valentines. But it wasnt because of my binge. I dont think I was going to fit in them anyway until I get to 180’s but its okay.

My size 16 wide are so fucking loose. The day they fall off my body is the day I stop wearing them period. Until then we gon wear it sis.

Belly

Despite the weightloss I don’t think my bell has been affected at all granted. I’ve only lost like 15lbs I just dont see it in my stomach which is my first problem area. I hope by valentines day at, atleast 212lbs it will reduce. Seriously I’m tired of looking at it. When I was in college at 22, I was 213 and my stomach was FLAT. I remember because I weighed myself. So these next 26lbs better be fucking good to me or I’m FIGHTING. A pound of fat in terms of physical is huge. On the scale its nothing. I’m tired of having a pouch in my jeans. I’m tired of looking at it hang. It needs to go. Arms next. At 180lb I better not see a fucking bat wing in sight.

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oursensoryworld · 6 years

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The Introduction

Hello Tumblr

My name is Jessica

I am 32 also a single mum with a beautiful 4 year old son. Ok so just a warning my grammar is horrible so please be kind. lol I always wanted to write a blog but never had the confidence to do so. Except for today.. When I thought to myself stuff it!! Maybe someone wants to listen to me talk crap, or is going through simular things. Needless to say I need an outlet. OK!

For the point of this introduction, I will start with when my son was 9 months old, and what happened after that.

We all lived in a beautiful little beach town. It was truly paradise! I would ride my bike to work some days, and think to myself how did I get so lucky.

Now you are probably thinking why would you leave then?

I moved back to my parents house after getting home from work one night, and my sons father was drunk again. When I got home He was hostile and dangerous. I tried to kick him out to sober up, but he told me that it was his house and I had not right.

I couldn't take one more second. Called my dad to get my car and I was on the first flight out with my son.

At first It was a welcome move. I was so happy to have the support that I needed. I had been working 40 hours per week plus the house and baby care. My son would wake at least 7 times per night.

Oh dear lord it was horrible. Did I mention the constant crying unless he was being held!

sounds like most babies right? that's what I thought, just normal motherhood not to worry. Just suck it up I would tell myself.

Through the heartbreak of leaving my sons father, I slowly picked up the pieces of my heart, and tried to glue it back together. Many nights of wine, and crying were had by me. its kind of funny now when I look back on it.

At the time though WOW!! What a mess I was.

Little did I know the other struggles, that I would soon be faced with, would test me much more than a little break up ever could.

Still took me 3 years to move on from loving my sons dad though.

So here I am ready to begin again. I found a lovely family day care for my son to attend while I went out to look for work. Everything seemed fine for awhile, just normal motherhood dramas.

My son was 22months when I got the first phone call, that he has been hitting his head against the wall and the floor. Just banging it!

I was told by his day care teacher that she was worried, as she had never seen a child do this before in all her years of caring for children. So my first reaction was have I done something wrong?

Could it be a reaction to my stress causing my son to react this way? All the blaming myself thoughts came flooding in. I had no idea why he was doing this.

Not to mention, that for some time he wasn't making eye contact, or responding to his name being called.

This wasn't my biggest concern at the time, as he was only little. In my mind, I thought he is just a late bloomer.

As my first and only child, I didn't have any thing to compare it to.

I thought he will just grow out of it, or it would just go away.

I took him to Many Drs for their opinions. Most said the same thing. “could be an ear infection, or sinus problem so don't worry too much”

His day care teacher, and my mother sat me down and said “we think he has Autism” My first response “What he is only 22 months old! how can you know that he has autism when he is so young. I didn't believe them, or want to. So I ignored it and continued on.

My son celebrated his first birthday, it was a happy day. it was 40 degrees that day, but we were prepared. There were 3 kids pools, and plenty of shaded areas.

This is when I noticed little difference's in my sons behaviour and other children, of same age, or even younger. For instance the eye contact. The way they would look engaged with their parent. The way they played with other children, and not alone.

Its really had to describe, and probably a poor choice of word but, a maturity difference is the way I would describe it.

As he grew, he became very violent towards me, and other children. Always biting, hitting and throwing toys across the room was a daily occurrence. It became difficult for him to stay in family day care, for the safety of the other children.

It was insane, I tried to talk to him, I took advice from what felt like a million people. Drs, parents, helplines, support groups you name it, I tried it.

I would say to my friends, How could a child that gets so much love be so aggressive? I was googling one day as you do, and I came across a well known clinic that specialises in children with Autism.

I took him to the Dr again! This time feeling confused and hopeless. =( At home I would cop at least 50 punches, and several bites all over my body everyday. So it was go time!!

I got the referral, and we went to the Clinic.My son walked in and was on his best behaviour of course. lol

She sat and played some games with him, the whole process went for about an hour. She then sat down and talked to me.

The first thing she said, still to this day sticks in my mind. She said “when I first met your son, he seemed to be fine for his age. As the games went on, I noticed lots of things that are very concerning”

She then explained to me what her findings were. Have you ever noticed that when you are playing a game with him, when he runs into a bit of trouble, he will pull your hand to grab what he needs. Without words and no eye contact.

I replied sure. All the time.

She then told me many more things, that I will go into detail in other writings. I was speechless..

Now I love my son the way he is, and have nothing against Autism. At the time though I was uneducated, and when the words fell from her lips,

“ I believe your son has a significant Autism”

My jaw hit the floor. I asked her what does that mean for him? then said, I thought that was normal. I thought a lot of the things he did were perfectly normal.

I use the word “normal” as just a word, not an indication that I think my son or any person on the spectrum isn't normal. Just thought I would put that out there, in case your reading this thinking (bitch please! who are you calling not normal) lol

The feeling of not knowing what to do when you have just received that in her clinical opinion, and feeling so alone.

I got to the car and just cried. The main thought that ran through my head, was just worries for my darling son. Worrying will life be hard for him. What do I even do with this information. Who do I call for help? should I call for help? I racked my brain trying to figure out the answer.

I just felt like I was sort of going in circles.

One of the major turning points for me was.

I was at the Drs one day, and my son had a massive meltdown. He bit my shoulder so hard he drew blood. The pain was so intense, it startled me so much that I dropped him. I still feel so bad about that!

I don't know what came over me. I started whaling and crying so much, in front of everyone. I curled myself up in the foetal position right in the middle of the surgery floor. As my son just walked around the surgery like nothing had happened.

Now when I think of that tragically embarrassing moment, I just laugh.

The receptionist came over to me, she was this little old lady. She wrapped her arms around me.

She gave me the biggest hug, and said “its ok darling, your doing a wonderful job”

That day I got the referral to my local hospital, to see the top childhood Dr

I was very relieved. I would get some answers! For a second opinion, and this lady is apparently the top Dr

We arrived at our local hospital. Now as you may have guessed, or have experience with.

My son is not one for public places and sitting still, he can usually sit still for a total of zero seconds. So when making an appointment its helpful if the Dr is running on time.

This was not the case! she was running 2 hours late!!

I kept asking when is it our turn? I chased my son around the hospital at least 6 times. We got asked to wait in an outside locked space because he was screaming so loudly. it was a nightmare!! My anxiety was through the Roof..

The looks I got from other patients, Its like I could hear their thoughts as the glared at me with their judging eyes and cats bum faces.

All I could hear was, cant control your child, or what a little shit or such bad mother!

You name it! I heard it.. Without anyone of them saying a word. You know the expression a look can say a thousand words, or something like that.

We finally!!!!! got called in, at this point he was over tired and so was I.

The Dr was an older woman with short blond hair. She spoke with an almost regal tone to he voice.

I thought this woman will have the answer for sure. She asked me a series of questions, and examined my son. I was truthfully scared to answer some of the questions, in fear of more judgment.

In hindsight as a mother, we tend to blame ourselves for the silliest things.

I have later learnt its called mothers guilt. Its a bastard of a thing. Anyway getting back to the Dr visit.

Sorry about that little tangent, I do that.

She said to me have you ever heard of a disorder called ODD? I replied No.. What is ODD? She said it is an acronym for something called Oppositional Defiance Disorder.

WHATTTT!!!!!! Now I was angry! I said to her, I came here for help! Not for you to give my son a made up diagnoses.

I then asked her, so how do I fix this ODD? She said there is no cure. What do you mean there is no cure?

She suggested to a program called the PPP Parenting course. That will give you coping strategies, you can learn as a parent, thus in turn help you to control your boys ODD. um NO!

If it was that easy why the hell do you think I'm here!!

Do Drs like you get off on this just giving a child that doesn't quite fit a made up label? Or telling parents that they need to do a parenting program! in order to fix a Neurological disorder. WTF... lol

I practically ran out the door, I couldn't believe the absolute BS I had just been fed. I was driving home shaking my head thinking the nerve of this woman.

I will say this again, its so funny looking back on all of this, its the kind of funny that you laugh and then cringe.

I got home, got my son out of the car, as he is pulling my hair out of my head. =(

So far I have your son has sever autism, and some made up Disorder. well at the time I thought that (speaking in past tense)

So what did I do? I will tell you.

I did what any normal parent does, ask Dr Google =)

Slowly typing in the search bar (What is ODD?) As my finger presses down on the enter button, I am then bombarded with Youtube vids and pages and pages of ODD info.

At this moment I'm like WOW, ODD is really a thing. I feel dumb now. Awkward for me, But holy shit this doesn't look fun. No offence but ODD sucks! I mean that with much love to parents out there. Its in short , everything you say your child fights you. They are violent and just exactly what its called.

I could keep talking and writing for days, but I will wrap it up now with a to be continued!

If you read this and this and this is where you are at in this moment.

I want you to know you are not alone. I wont lie, the road is a long and tough one. if no one has told you your doing a good job. YOU ARE DOING A GOOD JOB. XX Part 2 will come shortly, let me know what you think? be kind lol

Take care. From J

#autism #sensorydisorders #ODD #singlemums #parentswithkidsonthespecturm #lifescurveballs #mystory #sensorykids

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braindamageforbeginners · 6 years

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A New Doctor

Cycle 9, Day 10

So, I now have at least a half-dozen physicians on my case. If you believe the BMJ stat that “medical misadvenure” (which is a broad category that includes, but is not limited to, doctor error, nursing error, pharmacy screw-ups, misdiagnosis, accidental overdose/drug interactions, opportunistic infections - the list goes on) is the third-leading cause of death in America (according to the same study, heart disease is #1 and cancer is #2). So, for those for those of you setting odds on my life expectancy (and, frankly, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t), it’s been an odd, extended game of “Clue,” except I’m Mr. Body, to see if disease, side-effects, or my possibly-insane physicians will get to me first. I hate to say it, but I think I’ve finally figured the odds-on favorite in this one: my GP.

This isn’t a plea for help, or even a serious medical development on my part, it’s a warning for you, the readership, as insurance enrollment comes around. First of all, if you can’t pay, hospitals or physicians can throw you out on the street (this is something able-bodied people are so disbelieving of that took a poor black woman freezing to death on-camera in Baltimore). They are only required to treat you if you in an emergency situation, thanks to some federal laws called “EMTALA.”If you have a disease that drives you to the emergency room, the prognosis gets worse. People tend believe that just because it’s the healthcare industry, the health insurance industry isn’t a corrosive force that has a vested interest in denying care and killing you. Which is odd to me; you don’t get this anywhere else (or I haven’t experienced this sort of self-delusional attitude); you don’t see people defending McDonald’s or Nabisco or RJ Reynolds or Exxon as having their best interests at heart (and, to my friends who think they’re bullet-proof because of their health insurance, read the fine print, very, very carefully; you don’t want to get a nasty shock as you’re being rolled into the OR). So, thanks to my parent’s generosity/desire not to see me die, I rolled in last year with a very expensive PPO (there are a lot of acronyms to keep track of, but PPOs allow the patient to see anyone in a preferred provider network, which tend to be large and give the patient lots of choices, so you can directly get a referral to a neurologist if you hit your head). Unfortunately, because I have pre-existing conditions (and to my bullet-proof friends, read through the list of pre-existing conditions that’ll disqualify you, your jaw will drop)(also, it’s telling that Congressmen and Senators have the option to buy into a separate, federal employee health insurance option that’s not available to us serfs)(it’s also telling that the ACA required Congresscritters, for the first time ever, to tough it out and find health insurance like their constituents)(which is why I assume all the GOP higher-ups had melt-downs over the ACA - a slight removal of privilege to help sick constituents isn’t a part of Congressional ethos, let alone job description), my premiums went from “expensive” to “leasing a sports car” within a few months. I’m extraordinarily grateful to them for providing that financial backing, because it allowed me to continue getting treatment during the crucial 6-10 week GBM post-diagnosis period that might turn this from “Guaranteed doom” to “far too close for comfort.” So, this did give me some time to do my homework (in writing about this, I’m realizing I really should consider applying to law school, because I’ll know more about medical and insurance law and ethics than some lawyers before this is up)(Hell, I probably know more than some of them right now). Anyway, I found that all the specialists I see for cancer, do take medicaid (even the specialized pharmacy I use at the cancer center). Which is good for me, especially since being on disability in California is an automatic qualification for Medicaid. Now for the bad news; although all the specialists there take medicaid, the GPs don’t. AND the specialists only take medicaid if it’s done through an HMO carrier that the state sub-contracts with.

Great Kraken’s Balls.

There are a number of documentaries and documents (including an “Adam Ruins Everything” segment) on why HMO’s are unnecessary and lethally incompetent (like many other aspects of a for-profit medical system), but here’s the most basic deal: They act as a gate-keeper for the entire medical-industrial system. You can get your care at any of a dozen pre-approved hospitals, and nowhere else. Now, if an HMO or their doctors can’t treat you (or refuse to treat you - which is still the case for a lot of GBM patients), they are required to send you to a specialist who can. The economic incentive is to give less care, and keep all the patients in the system for as long as possible.

I suspect that delaying tactic is why heart disease and cancer are considered so deadly - you can’t sit long on either of those.

So, based on the financial folks at the cancer center, I picked one, and promptly forgot about it; because I’m already in the system there (the receptionists and pharmacy staff recognize me on sight)(which is comforting, until you realize it’s a cancer center, and then the panic briefly cuts in until you remember you’ve gone eight months without regowth or metastastis). I only remembered it when I got a call from the medicaid HMO telling me I should schedule an appointment with one of their physicians. This isn’t a big deal, I just need them to sign-off on any further black magic-based treatments with the Warlocks or Radiation Oncologist.

Now, before I go further, let’s talk about the people who go into medicine. Like anything in healthcare, we tend to give assume that an entire industry is moral, and just; when people go in for a variety reasons (as recently as 20 years ago, the vast majority of medical students said it was for money), and it’s worth noting that cuts across a vast majority of demographics and motives. And, for better or worse, that cuts across vast swathes of competence - for far too many folks, it’s a job - a rewarding job, but just a job. My father recently inquired about board exams and recertification as a way of guaranteeing some basic level of competence from everyone. He’s right, but the key word there is “basic.” Again, “basic” is fine for first aid and most major medical issues; it’s unacceptable if you have a disease with a 90% fiver-year mortality rate.

I bring this up because I think I chronicled my first appointment with my insurance-appointed GP five or six weeks ago and seemed perfectly satisfactory to my ongoing addiction to experimental chemotherapy. I’m certain it was within that time frame, because I had schedule a six-week follow-up. Which, sadly lands on my “week off” chemo. So, yesterday, after infusion #2 for this cycle (for those of you wondering what I’m doing to stay busy during infusions these days, well, rewriting Christmas carols for cancer patients)(”On the first day of chemo, the nurses gave to me, zofran in an IV”). I also convinced dear old Dad to take me out to lunch, because, again, when the Marizomib side effects hit, you do not fee like eating. This was in the neighborhood of the latest addition to my collection of medical people, so I thought I’d reschedule then. And was told by the receptionist to wait for everyone behind me to check in lest they be late for appointments. That would be fine, but it seems a fundamental misunderstanding of how queus work. And, any time post five-ish hours on infusion day, even though zofran might keep me from puking, it does give me an odd, oily, queasy sensation. I think I deserve some sort of gold star for not puking on this woman right away (again, if you have unconventional problems, feel free to start with an unconventional approach)(my next writing project will be titled, “Life Lessons from Necromancers”). I eventually - using the traditional method of looking down the reception counter, noticed someone not otherwise occupied, and manage to get an appointment more amenable to my schedule. For a physical.

Again, I’d love to use some four-letter words here, but even Finnish fails to meet the requirement. Now, it should be noted that, even though I’m well-aware that I’m physically Adonis-like; I am in chemo and recovering from radiation treatment, Radiation Oncologist implied a few months ago that, even though my scan was clean and looked good for someone with brain cancer, anyone unfamiliar with my case would probably freak out about them. Same thing with my abnormal, uh, “lab sample” I wrote about recently - the nurses agreed, a single abnormal test is hardly unexpected toward the end of chemo, especially since I’m now on a diet consisting mostly of protein, fiber, cafeine, and dangerous, experimental substances. However, I’d prefer not to have to point all that out to a new medical person who has the power to yank the plug on me (sadly, my original GP will be on vacation that week. (I’ll also be on Temodar, so there’s a solid chance my brains will be thoroughly scrambled and incapable of comprehension).

ANYWAY… WEIGHT: 198 lb CONCENTRATION: Pretty good, APPETITE: Normal (but this is 24 hours post-infusion. ACTIVITY LEVEL: Not great; the fatigue side effect definitely caught up with me and chewed me up last night. SLEEP QUALITY: Okay. although I’ve noticed that I definitely thrash around on chemo days. COORDINATION/DEXTERITY: Lousy. Thank Gods I don’t need the walker, and I don’t even think I need my magic ankle support, but my left leg is definitely unreliable today. MEMORY: Not bad, although I did forget my sheets were in the wash earlier today (although I recall stripping the bed and tossing them into the washer). PHYSICAL: Tired and kind of wobbly, but still a lot better than this time a year ago.. EMOTIONAL: Okay. It might just be that I spent yesterday next to my zofran-and-CDB salt-lick, but I’m starting to think I might make it through all this somewhat intact. Hang on. Am I really starting to believe my own bullshit? SIDE EFFECTS: Tired, somewhat sore (either chemo or increasing the difficulty of that stupid elliptical), and in the wrong time-zone, but, other than that, not much. CURRENTLY READING (For Donna): Gonzo Girl, and The Explorer’s Guild (A Passage to Tshamballah)

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sephys-hubby · 3 years

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For the dialogue prompts!! “Wait, hold on, pump the brakes… they said what to you?” (imagine-your-love-story)

Thank you for recommending this one to me! :)

Alright! I finally finished it. Writing this was fun, but get ready though. This ended up being a bit longer than I expected.

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[••X••]

It Wasn't A Dream

Cloud had noticed that something was wrong with his close friend Andy. He had little energy during the day, and would constantly appear tired or sleepy. When confronted about it, Cloud received no answers, as even Andy wasn't sure on why he felt this way.

Perhaps all he needed was a good night's rest. For a good while, Andy was able to sleep comfortably every night. He remembered how before, he would always have the most peaceful dreams of resting comfortably in his room while someone watched over him as it rained outside. Andy had deemed them as the "Angel of his Dreamland" back then, for he could never actually see who it was. He could only feel their presence. But alas, on the day Cloud had defeated Sephiroth again and the Geostigma infection was cleansed from everyone, the dreams stopped. Ever since then, the only emotion he felt during his dreams was loneliness. It was admittedly beginning to affect his life while awake as well.

It wasn't until a year later that Andy experienced a vivid dream that felt too real to be one. The dream was serene. He could hear the muffled sound of soft raindrops through his bedroom window. He was laying still in bed in complete relaxation. As he rested, he felt a tender hand on his shoulder. This dream was comfortably familiar. It was the exact dream as before. The one with the "Angel". Knowing he wasn't alone, Andy relaxed…

"I am your angel…" That was the first time Andy had ever heard another voice in his recurring dreams. Never before has he heard the individual watching over him speak. "You are my everything... I love you."

It was enough to startle him awake, as he had recognized that voice anywhere. Now sitting on the edge of the bed, Andy glanced towards the window. He saw sunlight through the curtains. It was morning. Andy then heard the bedroom door open. He glanced over his shoulder.

"I've noticed you haven't been yourself lately." Cloud spoke quietly. Despite his dull tone, there was a subtle hint of concern in it. He then sat besides Andy. "...Tifa's worried, too."

"Cloud, I, uh..." Andy was trying to gather his thoughts. He wanted to tell Cloud about the dream he had seconds earlier.

Meanwhile, Cloud himself thought about what could be causing all of this. After he had defeated Sephiroth again, Andy always appeared to never get a good night's sleep. "If there's anything-"

"Listen. I just had a dream about Sephiroth right now." Cloud froze. His expression quickly became alert and focused.

"What? Sephiroth?" He spoke with a tense tone.

"Yeah, I was in bed when I feel a hand on my shoulder and then I suddenly hear his voice-"

"Wait." Cloud stood up, briskly surveying the bedroom. "Was he here with you?"

"In the dream, but-"

"Andy." Cloud now held a hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure this was a dream?"

"Well, it did feel super realistic compared to any other dream." Andy explained.

"Damn." Cloud began to think. With someone like Sephiroth, it was always difficult to discern what was real and what wasn't. The worse part of it all was that it seemed Sephiroth was now targeting his best friend. He already lost others. He couldn't lose Andy. "If Sephiroth has returned, then..."

"Uh, Cloud? I need to tell you what he said to me."

"What'd he say?" Cloud could already imagine it. Sephiroth must've told Andy something awful in order to target his mentality and...

"He said he loves me."

Cloud heard Andy speak, but the words were just so unexpected that he simply couldn't understand. "Wait, hold on... He said what to you?"

"He, uh..." Even Andy couldn't really believe it. "He said he loves me."

"Sephiroth... Loves you?" Cloud was in utter disbelief. Sephiroth? Loving someone?? Impossible, he thought. It just simply couldn't be.

"I know it sounds weird, but..." Andy found it just as odd as Cloud, but it would explain the recurring dreams from before. It would explain why he always felt someone watching over him in his dreams.

"I don't believe him." Cloud concluded. "He has to be lying."

"I'll be honest, man. It was a recurring dream, Cloud. But until this particular dream, I never realized it was Sephiroth." Andy began to piece it together. "This whole time he's been watching over me, I think. Maybe even protecting me."

"Andy." Cloud now spoke more sternly. "Listen to yourself. This is Sephiroth we're talking about."

"I know that, but what if he was telling the truth? He even said he was my angel and that I meant everything to him." Andy described.

Cloud then remembered some of the things Sephiroth had said whenever he spoke to him before during his journey and when he had fought him again recently. Too many times would the former 1st Class SOLDIER speak in a cryptic manner about protecting the one he cherished most and how he was their angel. Sephiroth always referred to this individual as his "dearly beloved". Lastly, whenever he had finished monologuing about his plans, Sephiroth would always say the same thing every single time.

"Of course, I won't be alone."

Before, Cloud always thought that Sephiroth was referring to his supposed mother, the extraterrestrial lifeform, Jenova. But to think that all this time, he was referring to Andy. It was as if he had planned on being with Andy after completing his twisted goals, which Cloud never let happen, thankfully. But despite it making sense, Cloud still couldn't believe it.

Meanwhile, it was all making complete sense to Andy. Especially after remembering Sephiroth's behavior before he had gone mad and plotted to destroy the world. Back then, the former SOLDIER would always act awkward around Andy. Before, Andy usually just found it weird or even funny, but thought nothing of it. Oh, how oblivious he had been! Looking back at it now, Sephiroth undoubtedly had a crush of some kind. "Cloud, I think Sephiroth does love me, or something."

"No." Cloud was firm. "All of that must've been an attempt to trick you."

"But-" Cloud then placed his hands on Andy's shoulders.

"Don't worry. If he really is back, I won't let him hurt you, or anyone." Cloud reassured him. Andy was admittedly proud of his friend. Before, Cloud would have been avoiding the situation rather than confronting it like he was now. Things really have changed after everything they've been through.

"...Alright." Despite how insane it all sounded, Andy truly felt like Sephiroth had feelings for him, and wished Cloud could see that. He knew he meant well, but Andy felt that Cloud was wrong about Sephiroth. None of it felt like a lie. Regardless of it all, the real question Andy had now was, how did he himself feel about everything? He didn't have any romantic feelings for the man... Or did he?

Despite everything, Cloud and Andy decided to not tell anyone about Sephiroth's sudden reappearance yet. Although they both heavily doubted it, it really could've just been a dream.

It was soon nighttime, and Andy would have to go to sleep again. Cloud agreed to stay outside the bedroom that night just in case. Andy then laid in bed, preparing to sleep. As he got comfortable, he relaxed. Andy closed his eyes. As he drifted off to his "Dreamland", a single black angel feather floated above the bed. It then gently landed on Andy chest. A feeling of being watched surfaced within Andy, although it was anything but an unsettling feeling. Andy instead felt safe and protected, as if someone was watching over him. He soon fell asleep. That night, Andy slept the best night he had in a long time.

[••X••]

#self ship ask game #💙hearts of anxiety💙#🖤angel of a dreamland🖤#asks #a sip of sunshine tea #thank you for asking and reading!#the overthinker writes

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beatnicksellar · 3 years

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MLH: Trade Paperback: Issues #1 - 6

Issue # 1 – Big Premiere Issue Panel one exterior winter of 1880 an open field on the prairie A nosy crow is perched on an uprooted stump in South Calgary The night sky unobstructed and the stars luminescent yet wary His hefty wings bring slaking rains but he will always be thirsty Behold the crow is a bad omen Worse still it is a gossipy totem So it knows who will be chosen And how their tale will be woven When all of the constellations dim for just a moment An indigo fireball falls from the darkness in atonement It streaks across the sky before making a large indent Inset in the snowy soil of the turf Crow hears its lament Magpie lands on the uprooted stump afterwards with a raspy chatter Witnessing the smouldering mound she squawks ‘What’s the matter’ ‘The Above People are not happy’ Crow replies to Magpie’s banter ‘Mother Moon and Father Sun expelled their new earthly daughter’ Magpie cackles for she has no tears to shed Her kind eat carrion even of their own dead Branded devils since one touched Christ’s head A solitary sighting now portends coming dread Magpie screeches ‘It has been a very, very long journey’ Adding ‘I’ve followed THAT mortal and I’m still so hungry’ ‘Where are your chicks?’ Crow enquires with some worry ‘As I said it’s been a long trip - Everything is quite blurry’ While they caw a Cree guide enters the impregnated pitch Coldly turned away at Fort Calgary his stomach has an itch Attracted to the indigo glow Ka-Ki-Si-Kutchin feels it bewitch Nestled next to the sizzling slab he dreams of gorging on flitch Meanwhile as celestial matter seeps from the stone into the mortal ‘Tell me more about troubled Gods’ Magpie requests with a chortle Crow cannot refuse an opportunity to chinwag about the immortals ‘Things are awry in the sky’ he chirps ‘I heard it is a damaged portal’ Dawn breaks on the turf and Ka-Ki-Si-Kutchin wakes to a greater hunger Hunger that gnaws not only at his gut but his soul like a spell he’s under Almost as if a famished creature crept into his mind and torn it asunder However he needs to return to Fort Edmonton before the first thunder Magpie prepares her wings to fly Crow cries a cautious goodbye Magpie croaks her callous reply ‘I’m going to watch this mortal die’ To Magpie’s chagrin Ka-Ki-Si-Kutchin is feverish but able to run So he swiftly sprints 300 kilometers north like a shot from a gun When the pair reach his log cabin Magpie’s wings weigh a ton She rests as Ka-Ki-Si-Kutchin enters and eats ALMOST everyone…

Issue #2 – The Wendigo

Kill the Plains Cree inside so that the famine can thriveReplace what has died with insatiable instinct to survive The generous bite-mark on Hausis’ right foot will deprive Thus she will limp for eternity if she gets out of here alive A newborn hung flaccid from the remote log cabin ceilingGranny’s hide and Uncle’s thighs are no longer concealing Avarice spirits infected father who cannot stop his feeding Craving their untainted flesh even through their screamingReturning from Fort Calgary with a fever in the frigid wintertime of 1880 Swift Runner approached his Fort Edmonton log cabin and ate his old lady Weeks passed and one member was left to be stirred into his sinewy gravy Suddenly the Mounties busted in and arrested their trail guide gone crazyHe was handcuffed and escorted to the gallows situated at Fort Saskatchewan Five-year-old Hausis was declared deceased and nicked by Constable Gagnon The officer took Hausis to his cottage to be nurtured by his barren wife Dawn She cherished her adopted home for a spell until the fevered dreams spawned When the Mounties found the mutilated bodies the 10-year-old was long gone‘Kill the Indian in the Child’ Hausis recited in her mind as the inscription readShe was ushered through St. Barnabas Residential School to a flea-ridden bed Assimilated on Tsuutʼina Nation by Indian Affairs where tuberculosis spread Ailing patients lined the deified corridors and kept the ravenous adolescent fed Unfortunately her hidden horror could not keep the hulking and hallowed at bay Or the depraved Dr. Pope who desired savage subjects to poke, prod and splay A fledgling eugenics advocate keen on taking Indigenous inception rights away Glaring into Hausis’ wildfire stare Pope killed the child inside the Indian that day A week before Hausis is to become an adult it is announced the school is closing Tired of dining on the ill Hausis grabs a sinful priest’s throat and starts choking In Ponoka Dr. Pope assembles members of The Board which is covertly forming At that same time South Calgary is plagued by a limping wendigo out roaming… Issue #3 – The Board In the civil twilight of the year 1939 like begets like A city aldermen and a military engineer take a hike Alongside an architect who grips a new rock spike With the landowner’s hammer in hand he strikes The snow crusted canola patch turns eerily silent The immovable stone stirs then becomes violent Discharging shards that impact with frantic intent Buried in their chests the impaled abruptly glow violet Without saying a single word every one exits the field When each man arrives home their cavity has healed Inseminating their wives with the radiance they wield Each man then takes their life before reaping the yield In the nautical twilight of 1949 four 9-year-olds look unusually alike Unrelated but near identical in diagnosis of having an emotional dike No touching, no talking or eye-contact from either of the remote tykes So they are sent to Ponoka Insane Asylum off the Highway 2 turnpike Therein John, James, Robert and frail Dot are confined for being dumb Handed over to the government to be handle for their frustrated moms Their only matriarch an elderly Indigenous woman calling them all plums They’ll glow indigo next to her until the termination of the imminent hum Now they stand before the Alberta Eugenics Board declared mentally deficient Drs. Pope, MacEachran, Mason and Kinso confirm the candidates are sufficient Youngest degenerates to undergo sterilization at the behest of the omniscient Before the operation CFB Calgary calls with something a little more proficient In the astronomical twilight of 1947 scientists at Currie Barracks conduct a trial Wherein they dose 43 infantry troops with pulverized purple pebbles in a vial Immediately all involved begin parading around armed with a psychotic smile Ten are neutralized and 33 survivors are shielded from the pull of the immobile In a hole inside an outbuilding the stone is fettered by extremely low frequency However scientists exposed to it suffered sterilization without traces of

insanity‘Like Begets Like’ is what Pope says before he removes his patients’ immortalityWith no military use the stone is offered to HIM for the betterment of humanity… Issue #4 – The Movie Theater Clickity-clack and a-clickity-clack Ascending the 14th streetcar track Dependable #7 always comes back Past Currie Barracks looping by the lilac Atop a hill secluded from the booming below A commercial quarter stands quarried by crows The movie theater the hub where everybody goes Escaping the low frequency hum with the late-late show Presented by Marc + Mada who met in a medical tent during the second war They had shared dreams of working concession and taking tickets at the door They carried on like old acquaintances never truly aware of what was in store However when it happened both would have to be lifted off the field tent floorUnable to conceive they believed that the cinema would be their post-war baby Hoping to unite cynical civilians and returning GIs by bringing back normalcy They achieved this with the premiere of Martin & Lewis’ At War with the Army A new favourite of Dennis from the Currie Barracks who is also secretly a MetisA mix of European + Blackfoot Dennis is attendant to the venerable Dr. Pope A single father of one and an escort for lost souls who have abandoned hope After a show Dennis always confided in the amiable owners in order to cope He would breakdown as he spoke of unfortunates he has bound with ropeFor example the 4 identical 10-year-old orphans with an autistic diagnosis As well as that eerie old Cree woman trapped in a deep-seated psychosis All of whom are being purified by the good doctor’s unnatural osmosis Imprisoned underground they inhale the senescent clinician’s halitosisThis is top secret information conveyed to close friends in confidence But when asked of the drone exiting the hole Dennis feigns ignorance Ongoing renovation at the City of Calgary’s reservoir is his best guess In truth he buys two nightly tickets in order to escape the hum + hiss Clickity-clack, clickity-clack and a-clickity-clack The #7 loops by the theater at the end of the track The matinee crowd exoduses and the #7 heads back Descending the hill it foreshadows an imminent attack One that will leave a marriage and a theater ransacked… Issue #5 – The Scavengers A splash page of a pudgy and rumpled magpie on a wireMere feet from where two movie theater owners expireAroused by the awful sounds she senses something direUnexpectedly a crow alights and enthusiastically inquires‘Now where have you been?’ its razor claws clasp the taut cable‘Tell me was there an accident,’ Magpie probes ‘…was it fatal?’‘They took her parts away,’ Crow confirms ‘it was paradisiacal’‘I’ve been with the Cree guide’s kin’ Magpie admits ‘past the maple’The jealous Crow croaks at Magpie’s claim demanding to hear moreMagpie gladly regales him with tales from before either world warWhen after leaving the residential school Hausis decided to go exploreAdrift in the Great Alone a trail of fur-traders she never had to answer forFree to be her selves wearing pelts and antlers to be seen as a true carnivoreUnresolved trauma and the ravenous ailment distorted her life into folklore‘I’ve never ate better’ Magpie digresses ‘…until she regained her Cree scruples’‘Became a guide like her old man’ she whines ‘then things got a lot less brutal’Magpie cites the time Hausis met David Cranmer and he offered her a jewelHe was killed at their wedding potlatch for not having BC government approvalHausis tracked the Indian Agent down months later in a pool hall nursing a beerArrested for wearing ceremonial attire she was committed for biting off his ear‘Fat as me when RCMP caught her’ Magpie details ‘had that doc quaking with fear’‘Swift-Runner Syndrome…those wildfire eyes…was all that I was able to overhear’Adding that the foul doctor had moved her and others to lie next to the indigo stoneContented Crow briefs Magpie on the damaged portal into the Above People’s homeWith no real gossip he entertains her with the backstory while she chews Styrofoam‘Feather

Woman slept in a field’ Crow begins ‘…alone underneath the glittery dome’He tells of how she loved the Morning Star so much that he came down to kiss herAnd of when they travelled to Sky-Country to meet his Sun father and Moon motherBoth Gods were pleased with his Blackfoot bride as well as their new granddaughterBut when Feather Woman did something that was forbade they expelled her forever‘Where’s the dumb mortal now’ Magpie squawks as the air around them buckles‘In that noisy hole with your old wendigo’ Crow caws ‘…all locked up in shackles’The incessant hum ends as the sadistic scavengers share a rambunctious cackleAll is quiet across 33rd avenue before the screaming starts and gunfire crackles… Issue #6 – The Streetcar ‘I can fix this’ the nubile nursing sister says with dread Inside of a vast RCAMC tent on a Bramshott homestead As she ineptly begins stitching up the wincing GI’s head Humming ‘…Over the Rainbow’ as she coaxes the thread The fetching GI quips about looking like Dorothy’s Scarecrow She introduces herself then darns intentionally, sinfully slow They talk about movies before he nervously asks her of a beau She speaks of graduating and her training then readily says no When the crooked suture is complete they agree both are glad they met Promising to look each other up in Calgary after the Axis paid their debt They say their goodbyes in the embrace of a instant they’ll never forget An instant that’ll be sullied by the looming raid on the beaches of Dieppe ‘I can fix this’ Marc the movie theater owner nervously repeats inside his head Standing outside on a ladder mending the marquee with pal Dennis as his stead Dennis talks of adopting the Barrack kids but he is already a dad with no bread Marc’s lissom wife Mada exits the lobby and offers up the theater’s bunk beds Clickity-clack, clickity-clack and a-clickity-clack The #7 streetcar approaches the loop in the track Here to pick-up the Currie GI’s and bring them back When one spots Dennis and gives him a heap of flak He starts threatening to expose Dennis’ Blackfoot blood to Pope That way the doc can neuter him alongside those 5 other dopes Dennis throw’s a punch but the soldiers put him against the ropes The pavement overflows with fists until Marc and Mada cannot cope He hits the sidewalk she lands in front of the #7 and is severed from wedded bliss Mada’s body lays static on the cement her lips pursed in one final departing kiss The quarrel quiets down until the only sound on 33rd avenue is that hum + hiss Rapt with guilt over Mada Dennis grabs both of her halves and gasps ‘I can fix this’…

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