#then he went to see barbie like he planned and had another breakdown

[lopsaii]

This barbie has a teeny weeny waist !!!

[mxmoth]

- Did you spend New Year's at home?

- Tattoos, yay or nay? If yay, on whom, where, how many, what of, etc?

- Top city you want to visit?

- Edge or HHH? Bonus round, admit they look the same.

- Cody Rhodes' hair, iconic, or it's time to go back to brown now?

- Has Jade Cargill done anything in WWE yet, be honest

NYE Activities: I did end-of-the-year wrestling brackets with friends (and had an absolute breakdown over being forced to choose between Rey and Rhea in the quarterfinals, only to have another when my final round was JD vs Dom), had a nice dinner, and then went to bed early. It was perfect. But yeah, I stayed home.

Tattoos: I have two! I have my Arya Stark tattoo on my left arm with "profundius metus secat" (fear cuts deeper) on it, and a wolf on my shoulder that needs to be covered up (I'm thinking an Ouija board planchette and some crystals or mushrooms or something). I'm planning to get Captain Phasma's blaster rifle with "my skill is death" on my right arm and something Death and the Maiden inspired on my leg.

Top City to Visit: I have yet to make it to New Orleans. There are also a couple spots in Ireland, Germany, and Denmark that I'd like to see, but I feel like I need to check off all the stuff on my domestic travel list first.

Edge or HHH: To quote Janet Weiss: "I don't like men with too many muscles", so I'm gonna have to choose Edge. Also, Paul looks like Kratos, and Adam looks like Mimir; so there's a difference, even if it is minuscule.

Cody Rhodes' Hair: I think the bleach-blond works with his current schtick, but he literally always makes me think of Nutcracker Barbie's Ken, and that would be even worse if he had brown hair again.

Jade Cargill's WWE Presence: She's got people talking, and that's more than I can say for a lot of people currently on the roster. I will always give folks credit for that. Beyond that, eh. I have no strong opinions one way or another.

[yikesharringrove]

Hi! Loving little mango 🥭! Do you think you could go back in time a little bit and do Steve going into labour and having her? Maybe it going wrong just slightly and the nurses not telling Billy anything that’s happening? I dunno, I just love it and kind of want know how billy would react if there was a chance he could lose either of them?

Masterlist

Part 27

-

So, my plan was for there to be complications with the second pup (some of you caught my hints 😉) so there is gonna be a part 2 to this bc I didn’t want to totally combine the two requests.

Also under the cut since it gets medical-y and heavy.

LOTS of angst

-

The three of them were almost back to their apartment when Steve felt the first contraction.

He had to lean against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut as he held the bottom of his tummy.

“Fuck, that was-” he took a few deep breaths before looking up at Billy, brows furrowed. “There’s something wrong.”

Billy knew better than to question Steve. He raced to the apartment, getting their hospital bags, shoving them in the back of the car.

He was quiet as he buckled Mina into her car seat, helped Steve into the front seat. He held Steve’s hand as he drove. Both of their hands were sweaty, were shaking. There was blood seeping through Steve’s jeans.

They pulled into the emergency room. Billy ran to get someone, sprinting up to the front reception.

“My husband’s gone into labor. He’s in extreme pain and bleeding and says he can tell that something’s wrong.”

Steve was wheeled right through triage. Billy had left the bags, was holding a very distressed Mina to his chest as he ran behind Steve.

The doctors were apathetic as they got him situated in a delivery room.

“Sometimes, with the second born, they can come a lot faster, so you may be experiencing contractions from further along the labor time.” The doctors were setting him up with an ultrasound.

“He’s fucking bleeding.”

“That can be common.” Billy wanted to fucking scream. Mina was holding her giraffe close to her, had big tears in her eyes.

The doctor was looking at the monitor. He stopped for a second, squinting at it. He turned to Steve.

“How far along are you?”

“Thirty eight weeks.” The doctor nodded, looking at the nurse that had just administered Steve’s IV.

“Get him prepped for surgery.” Billy’s heart dropped to his ass. “I’m going to call the surgical team.”

“What’s happening?” The doctor fucking ignored him, just left the room. Steve was white.

The nurses were fluttering around him, one cleaned the ultrasound gel off his tummy as another took Steve’s vitals.

“Sorry, can you tell us what is going on?”

“The doctor found a complication. The pup will need to be surgically removed. We should have an OR ready shortly. For now, Mr. Hargrove, don’t take in anything by mouth, including water and we’ll be back to get you once the surgeons, the room, and the anesthesiologist are ready for you.”

“They both left.

“What the does complication mean?” Steve was staring up at Billy. Mina reached out for Steve. Billy sat her next to him. “Do you, do you think-”

“No, Baby. Don’t even, don’t even say that.” Billy sat down heavily in the plastic chair next to Steve’s bed. He put his head on Steve’s chest.

“Dada, here.” Mina help out her giraffe for him. “Gigi will protect you and Sweet Pea.” He smiled at Mina, taking the giraffe.

“Thank you, Mango. Can you tell Sweet Pea that we’ll see them soon, and we can’t wait to meet them?” She leaned to ‘talk’ to the pup while Billy met Steve’s eyes over her head. He mouthed it’s gonna be okay. Steve nodded at him, tears in his eyes.

The nurses returned about twenty minutes later.

Steve was still in pain, was bleeding enough to warrant a transfusion.

Billy kissed him deeply, watched as Steve hugged Mina, trying to keep his tears back.

He had to sit with Mina in the waiting room, set her down with a book and a few Barbies that he had retrieved from the car and went to use the phone across the room, keeping his eyes trained on her.

The first call he made was to Hop and Joyce.

“Steve’s in surgery. Had been for about half an hour now.” He could hear Hopper choke.

“What happened?” Joyce’s voice was soft.

“They, they didn’t tell us anything. Just said there’s a complication. Steve was in so much pain, and he was bleeding. They had to start giving him a fucking transfusion he lost so much.”

“We’re flying out. We’ll leave in a few hours, get on the next flight to San Diego.” Billy rubbed his eyes, trying not to have a full scale breakdown where his daughter could see.

“Thank you, thank you both. We can reimburs-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” Joyce’s voice was sharp. “This is our grandbaby, we want to come.” A nurse came out of the back. Billy perked up, hoping she was there to give him some information. She headed to another man, sat to speak with him.

“Listen, I should go. Mango was freaking out when they took Steve back. Do you think it’s better for her to wait or should I call someone to get her?”

“If Steve is still in surgery in an hour, call someone to get her.” Billy nodded at Hop’s voice. “And Billy, they’re gonna pull through. Both of ‘em.” Billy hung up before he could start crying.

He called Claudia next, explained the same thing to her. He had to get off that call fast. She had started bawling when he told her nobody had said what was wrong, had told him that he and Mina could come live with her.

He needed to take several breaths after that.

There was a real possibility he could lose them tonight, lose his little pup, lose his Steve. He buried his face in his hands, taking several breaths. He felt something against his stomach.

Mina was pushing her stuffed pig into him, looking at him with big eyes. With Steve’s eyes.

“Daddy, Peggy will make you not sad.” He took the big, squatting down to pull her into a hug.

“Thank you, Mango. You’re right, Peggy is making me not sad.” He picked her up, took her to the seats in the corner he had throw their shit on.

The nurses hadn’t let Steve bring the giraffe into the sterile OR, so it was sitting on its own seat. Mina felt it needed plenty of room to send it’s happy to Dada.

Billy tried to distract himself reading to Mina, but hid thoughts kept spiraling.

He figures they didn’t tell him anything because they didn’t know anything, just saw something was wrong and wanted to see for themselves. Or possibly it was something so bad, they thought it would be easier for Billy not to know.

His mind raced through every horrible thing he could think of, from Steve having cancer, to the pup being a stillborn. He tugged Mina into his lap, wanted to hold her while they waited.

He breathed her in. She smelled like honey, and like rain, and like everything good in the world.

They read through The Very Busy Spider as they waited, as Billy tried to focus on good, on soft while somehow preparing himself for the worst.

[appalachianwiine]

Swim - Chapter 5 - A Light In the Darkness

I need light in the dark as I search for the resolution   

-"The Resolution" by Jacks Mannequin

“Well we’re not going to be starting Chemo tonight after all.” Dr. Rhee says as she walks in shortly after lunch. 

“We’re not?” Daryl frowns.

“No her post op lab results show just a little bit of an increase in white blood cells.” Dr. Rhee explains. “I’m going to give her some antibiotics and retest tomorrow morning. But the good news is that means she can go down to the playroom for a bit.” 

“Can she have visitors?” Daryl asks. Lydia had been asking about seeing Carl since the child life specialist, Beth, had left. 

“Yeah she can, but visiting hours for non family end at 8pm” Dr. Rhee informs him. 

“Want me t’ call ‘em baby girl?” Daryl asks. 

“Can you?” Lydia pleads. 

“Yeah.” Daryl picks up his phone and dials Lori. 

“Daryl?!” Her voice is a little strained. “We’ve been calling all day. Is everything okay?” 

Its with a rush of guilt he realizes he’s hardly looked at his phone since she called him yesterday. “Shit sorry Lori.” He gives her the short version of it all, about the leukemia, the lumbar puncture, the results they were waiting on.

“I can’t believe you didn’t call earlier.” Lori scolds. “Daryl, we should’ve been there. I can’t believe you had to do all this alone.” 

Daryl grimaces. “Sorry, I uh - I actually had a meetin’ this mornin’. With a nice woman who runs the support group here fer parents. She was a single parent when she went through this with her daughter.” 

“Oh.” Lori says. “Is - is there a lot of that? Single parents I mean.” 

Daryl glances over at Lydia, who’s drawn back into the television. “I ain’ even the only adoptive parent righ’ now. There’s a guy across the hall, Ezekiel, an’ his kid.” 

“Shit.” Lori mutters. “Well um - do you - do you want us to come by? Can she have visitors?” 

“Yeah she can. She’s been askin’ t’ see Carl. Real disappointed in not getting t’ see him yesterday.” Daryl says. 

“I’ll give Rick a call and we’ll be by.” Lori says. “You need anything from home?” 

“No we’re alright.” Daryl says. “Thanks Lori.” 

“Of course.” Lori says. “We’ll see you around 3?” 

“See you then.” He hangs up, turning back to Lydia, who’s watching him with hopeful eyes. “They’ll be here around three.” 

“Yay!” Lydia grins, bouncing up and down. 

“Ya know,” Dr. Rhee says. “Maybe Miss Lydia would like to check out the playroom. She’ll have to wear a mask and stay connected to the infusion pump, but they’ve got a lot of good stuff in there.”

“Can we daddy?” Lydia asks. 

“Sure.” Daryl agrees, he’ll do anything to keep her in good spirits right now. She seems to be feeling good and he’d like to keep it that way. “You know there’s a little boy yer age across the hall?” 

“There is?” Lydia asks. “Can I see him?” 

“Sure, lets go over and see if he wants to come with us.” Daryl helps Lydia out of bed and sets her carefully on the floor. “Hang on let me get the pole.” He reaches for the infusion pole, fumbling with the latch that attaches it to the bed for a moment. It releases and he pulls it towards him, it’s surprisingly heavy. “Alright lets go kiddo.” 

They have to pause twice for Daryl to gather up the tubing that comes out of Lydia’s arm and up to the bag of antibiotics. As he loops them around his hand it strikes him that this isn’t unlike Dog’s long line, wrapped around his hands and unraveling as they move. Lydia looks back at Daryl as they reach the door of 323. 

“You knock daddy.” Lydia mutters, reaching out to grab his hand. The wariness returns to her as they stand in front of the door. 

“Okay.” He says, squeezing her hand and reaching out to knock. 

“A moment!” Ezekiel’s voice comes from beyond the door. There’s some scrambling and then the door pulls open. “Daryl!” 

The booming voice makes Lydia flinch and draw closer to Daryl. Daryl reassures her with a hand on her head, stroking her hair back. “Uh, Ezekiel. This is Lydia.” He smiles. “She was wondering if - if Henry might want to come to the playroom.” 

Ezekiel kneels in front of them, and it’s then that Daryl sees he’s wearing a paper crown colored in yellow and pink. “Hello Lydia.” His voice drops. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ezekiel.” He holds out a hand. 

Lydia’s brown eyes look back up at Daryl, and then, slowly, she reaches out to shake Ezekiel’s hand. “Hi.” 

“Would you like to come in and meet Henry?” Ezekiel asks. Lydia nods silently, and Ezekiel stands, offering a smile and stepping back from the door. “Come in, he’s over there with Carol.” 

Daryl pushes the IV pole into the room, it’s a mirror image of their own, except this one is decorated. Behind the bed is one of those banners you get from the party store spelling out ‘Henry’ in bold green letters, and a bunch of printer sheet sized papers with colorful backsplash and lettering taped around the room. As he walks past one Daryl sees it’s a bible verse, the others appear to be too. Over by the window the bald little boy is sitting on Carol’s lap and holding plastic dinosaurs. 

“Henry.” Ezekiel calls. “Someone is here to see you.” 

The boy’s head turns and Daryl is struck by how in the light of day his skin appears almost translucent but his eyes are bright and alert. “Hi.” He says, climbing off of Carol’s lap and trotting across the floor, his own infusion tube trailing after him. “I’m Henry.” 

“Lydia.” She mumbles, hiding her face against Daryl’s leg. 

“Go on.” Daryl mutters, nudging her forward. “Ask him.” 

“Do you um… want to go to the… to the playroom?” She mutters, half into Daryl’s leg. 

“Sure.” A smile stretches across Henry’s face. “Can we daddy?” 

“Sure Henry.” Ezekiel says, already fumbling with the latch on the infusion pole. 

“Hi Daryl.” Carol says. “She doing okay?” 

“Yeah I think so.” Daryl nods. “Better now that she ate, and uh her friend is coming to visit soon.” 

“Are you coming with us?” Henry asks Carol as he drops a few plastic dinosaurs into a tub. 

“If your daddy doesn’t mind.” Carol smiles. 

“Never do.” Ezekiel smiles, sliding Henry’s own infusion pole over to them. “Ready?” 

The playroom is at the other end of the floor, it’s empty and clean, even here everything smells sterile and controlled. There’s a sign telling the kids to wear masks before they go in, and two boxes, one with princesses and the other with trucks. A bit gendered but it’s an option. Henry reaches confidently for the princess one and puts it on, Lydia on the other hand looks warily at them. 

“I don’t want those.” Lydia murmurs. 

“I know.” Daryl sighs. “But those are the rules, if you don’t follow them you have to go back to the room.” 

“Fine.” Lydia scowls, grabbing one of the pink princess ones and putting it on. “Can we go play now?” 

“Go on.” Daryl says, pushing her infusion pole over to one of the small tables and watching her drag out the barbies.

“They seem to be hitting it off.” Carol comes to stand next to him, Ezekiel is helping the kids pull the toys out, still wearing the paper crown. 

“Yeah.” Daryl mutters. “What’s uh - what’s with the crown?” 

“Oh,” Carol chuckles. “Henry was making us play something he calls ‘’Kingdom” It changes but the theme is usually he’s a prince and Ezekiel is the King and they have to fight monsters.” 

“Ah.” Daryl chuckles. “A fun kid?” 

“Oh tons of fun.” Carol nods. “When he feels good anyway, he’ll probably take a hit after this round of Chemo.” Her smile fades a little bit. 

“Oh.” Dary mutters. 

“Sorry.” Carol apologizes. “It’s just - it’s always a little hard being here.” 

“I can’t even imagine.” Daryl sighs. “Losing her it’s -” 

“Don’t.” Carol cuts him off. “I’m sorry just - the words don’t… they don’t help and you don’t need to go there right now.” 

“Right.” He’s quiet for a while, an awkward silence stretching out in front of them. 

“What do you do?” Carol says after a moment. 

“Cop. Special Victims, domestic violence and child abuse mostly” He nods. “‘S how I met Lydia. You?” 

“High School English teacher.” Carol says. Daryl chuckles. “What?” 

“I don’ know I didn’t picture that.” He shrugs. 

“Oh really?” Carol raises her eyebrows. “What did you picture Mr. Cop?” 

“I don’t know. I just can’t picture you as a strict highschool English teacher.” He scratches his chin. “You uh make the kids write a million drafts?” 

“If I don't, no one will.” She chuckles. “I wanted to teach Elementary though, but after Sophia… highschool was easier.” 

“Ah.” Daryl nods. “And uh, you an’ Ezekiel, how long has that been a thing? Just since he moved down here? Or did you know him before?” 

“Me and Ezekiel?” She raises her eyebrows. “Oh we’re not - no, just friends. Trust me the last thing either of us has the time or energy for is dating. He got in contact with me a lot like you did actually, referral through Maggie.” 

“Oh.” Daryl says. “I uh, sorry I just assumed, I mean Henry seems to adore you and I just assumed.” 

“It’s fine.” Carol promises. “So what’s her plan?” 

“Lydias?” Daryl asks, Carol nods. “Oh um, well apparently the lab is closed on Sundays, but we should have results by Thursday, but I think she’s supposed to start Chemo tomorrow. What uh… what can I expect? I mean Dr. Rhee told me but it’s kind of overwhelming.”

“Daryl.” Carol sighs. “Are you sure you can handle this right now?” 

“I’m fine.” He insists. “The hallway was just -” 

“It’s okay.” Carol reaches over and squeezes his arm. “You don’t have to explain, I promise we’ve all had breakdowns in the hallway.” 

“Right.” Daryl rubs his hands on his jeans.

“So um,” Carol says. “So they’ll probably give about four hours of fluids first, chemo does a lot of damage to the kidneys so they’ll want her to flush it as quickly as possible. So expect a lot of potty breaks, then she’ll get her chemo, then another four hours of fluids. She’ll feel pretty tired, nauseous, she might get constipated, and her blood counts will plummet.” 

“What does that mean?” Daryl asks. “Like what do I - what will she look like.” 

“Um, pale, they’ll watch her for a certain kind of bruising, she’ll have a higher chance of infection. It’s not too bad when they’re checking her all the time, but it’s nerve wracking when you’re at home.” Carol sighs, chewing her lip. 

“Her hair.” He says quietly. “How long… um will that take to…” 

“To fall out?” Carol says slowly, he can still sense some reluctance on her part. “Sophia's took about 2 weeks to really start coming out and then we shaved it after the third week, it was starting to upset her. But Henry kept all of his until it was gone and that was about a month.” 

“A month.” He mutters. “That’s uh - that’s not very long.” 

“No.” Carol shakes her head. “But you’re gonna get through this Daryl. It’s like Ezekiel said, you’re not alone in this. You can call me any time, seriously.” 

“Yeah.” He nods. “I uh - I will.” 

“I know that look.” Carol says. “Which means I’m going to be calling you to check in.” 

“What d’ ya mean?” He gowns. 

“That look means you’re not going to reach out first and you’re going to be stubborn about it.” Carol nudges him. 

He blushes, that had been what he was thinking. “Fine. FIne. I’ll call.” 

“Before you’re discharged. You’ll need help with that. There’s a lot that needs to be done for her to come home.” Carol insists. 

“Yeah alright. Before she’s discharged.” Daryl promises. 

They linger in the playroom for another half an hour, after which Henry starts complaining that he’s tired. Ezekiel takes Henry back to their room and Daryl helps Lydia put away some of the toys. 

“Come on kiddo, Carl will be here soon.” Daryl says, putting a few barbies in the bin. 

“Alright.” Lydia pouts putting a couple more barbies away. “Is she coming with us?” 

Daryl looks over at Carol who’s putting away a few plastic animals. “Um, I don’t think so. Why?” 

“I thought she’s Henry’s mom.” Lydia shrugs. “But he says she’s not.” 

“Yeah.” Daryl nods.

“You two want some help getting back to the room?” Carol offers. 

“Nah.” Daryl shakes his head, sliding the bin of barbies back into the cupboard and starting to gather up Lydia’s infusion line. “I think we got it. Don’t we Lydia?” 

“We got it.” Lydia nods. 

“Alright.” Carol smiles. “I’ll get going then okay?” 

“Yeah.” Daryl nods. “And uh… thanks for everything.” 

“Of course.” Carol says, holding the door open so he can push the heavy infusion pole through it. “And I mean it, I’ll be calling you. I want to see you in our meeting on Tuesday okay?”

Daryl’s about to answer but he’s cut off by a sharp yelp, Lydia has rushed forward to the end of her line and tugged it. “Lydia!” He mutters, hurrying over to her and kneeling in front of her, it doesn’t appear to have come out. “What are you-” 

“Lydia!” And in a blur another eight year old has rushed up beside him, hugging her tightly. 

“Carl!” Lydia grins, barely noticing the worry she’d caused Daryl. “Move Daddy!” 

“I - “ He looks over at Carol, she’s covered her mouth trying to suppress a giggle. 

“It’s cute.” She says apologetically. “Tuesday?” 

“Yeah.” His shoulders relax. “Tuesday.” Carol walks past him towards the elevator and Daryl pulls the infusion pump closer to them. “Carl where’s your mom?” 

“I don’t know.” Caryl shrugs, sticking his thumbs in his belt looks. “Somewhere.” 

“Carl Grimes!” Lori’s harsh voice says, coming up rapidly behind them, baby Judith on her hip. “Don’t you ever run off like that again you understand?”

“Sorry. I saw Lydia.” Carl shrugs. 

“I can see that.” Lori sighs. “Daryl, sorry about him he knows better.” 

“It’s fine Lori.” Daryl assures. “We’re just heading back to the room.” 

“Who was the woman?” Carl asks, holding Lydia’s hand as Daryl gathers up the cords again and loops them around his arm.

“Oh that’s Carol. She’s not Henry’s mom.” Lydia shrugs. 

“Then who is she?” Carl frowns. 

“I don’t know. Daddy's friend I guess.” Lydia doesn’t seem phased by it and the two start off down the hall, leaving Daryl and Lori to hurry after them. 

“Woman?” Lori raises her eyebrows. 

“Carol.” Daryl says. “She’s from the single parents support group. She uh - saw that whole fiasco.” 

“Ah.” Lori chuckles. “She's pretty?” 

“Yeah I guess. Why?” Daryl narrows his eyes.

“No reason.” Lori smirks. 

“Oh no no no.” Daryl says. “My kid has cancer, you're not playing matchmaker.” 

“You’re no fun.” Lori pouts. 

“Where’s Lori and Michonne?” He’s eager to change the subject. 

“Already in the room probably, they didn’t have a baby to hold them up.” Lori chuckles. “Or a little boy who likes to play the world tour of bathrooms every time we’re somewhere new. They brought some decorations for Lydia.” 

“Daddy look!” Lydia grins from the doorway. “Look what aunt Michonne and Uncle Rick brought!” 

Sure enough, when he gets to the door the entire room has been done up like a Little Mermaid party. Balloons, streamers, and a big ‘get well soon lydia’ sign hanging above the bed.’. He grins sheepishly at rick. “Y’all didn’t have t’ do this.” 

“Of course we did.” Michonne grins. “Now come on Lydia we brought you some presents.”

[santamonicaroleplay]

Secrets Masterlist

GROUP A

Marco

━ Marco suffers with OCD, but keeps it well hidden most of the time. He’s had periods where it’s been so bad that he’s washed his hands until they were red raw, though —- usually when something’s happened to upset his normally happy life. ━ When he was sixteen, he stole his best friend’s girlfriend. It was unintentional, but she was also a surfer and they spent every day together, things just “happened”. ━ Marco totalled his dad’s car when he was 18 and DUI. His dad still thinks it was the other driver’s fault.

Jason

━ He is a half sibling but is not aware of it yet, his mother had an affair. ━ Got in a car crash with a friend when both fell asleep and it resulted in the death of an old man. Luckily the mans family decided not to press charges. ━ Overdosed in his sophomore year of high school and nearly died but his family kept it under wraps.

Phobe

━ Use to be a drug dealer ━ Became a camgirl for a while to pay bills ━ She only thinks that she knows who the father of Dani is. Phobe is still completely uncertain even if she has a hunch of who it is

Beckett

━ sells drugs ━ made out with his 27 year old college professor when he was in his junior year of college ━ has always claimed he’s had sex but is actually a virgin

GROUP B 

Amy

━ Amy sold weed in high school and college. ━ She accidentally killed her daughter’s fish and replaced it with an identical one. ━ She still has feelings for her ex-husband (Nathan)

Enrique

━ Enrique has hired a private investigator to locate his estranged mother. ━ Contrary to the ‘bad boy’ image that Enrique exuded throughout life, he is actually very intelligent. ━ Enrique watches a lot of cartoon reruns before he falls asleep at night.

Olivia

━ Once kissed her sister’s boyfriend when drunk at a party ━ Is quite the nerd when it comes to fantasy movies/television, though she'll pretend she's not ━ Suffers from intense nightmares sometimes

Gemma

━ She lost her virginity while drunk. ━ Feels like she’ll never measure up to her family. ━ Still has a stuffed animal her parents won for her at a fair that she sleeps with when she’s having a rough night.

Summer

━ summer tells everyone her movie genre of choice is romance (drama, comedy, all things romance-related). but truthfully, she has a soft spot for dark psych thrillers with a tinge of horror - a little known fact that hardly anyone but the people closest to her know. ━ summer has only ever been in one serious relationship her whole life. they dated for two years in high school and saw a future together past graduation and into adulthood. however, summer had a pregnancy scare at the end of their senior year, prompting her to end the relationship. since then, she’s avoided dating anyone steadily and has stuck to short-term flings. so far her older sister is the only person who knows about the pregnancy scare. ━ summer used to thrift-hunt for rare designer finds and vintage clothing at the local secondhand shops in monterey, freshening them up and selling them online  for a profit. it was a hobby she took to when she was still a kid, but she’s refrained from telling anyone given her current status as a well-reputed stylist.

GROUP C 

Wes

━ there have been a few songs written by him that have made it onto Reckless albums about the relationship between him and Sutton Barnes and the aftermath of their relationship ━ had to take depression medication which he has been off of for 3 years ━ attended therapy twice a month for two years after his mother’s death

Alondra

━ She is afraid of crows. ━ She is a cosplayer but does really extravagant cosplays that always cover or modify her face ━ She has an insane funko pop collection, she keeps them in her spare bedroom along with all of her other nerd things

Brooklyn

━ Dealt with breakdown after fiance left and before moving to L.A ━ Stole a CD back in high school ━ (Was wrote down in Diary) Holds resentment towards her brother Jason for leaving her.

GROUP D 

Hannah

━ Got pulled over for ‘drunk driving’ when she wasn’t even drunk. Just a bad driver ━ Hasn’t had sex in over 5 years ━ Still in love with her ex-fiance Hanson

Ivy

━  she has embarrassing videos she made with her friends online when she was young and in Australia ━ she's not sure if she's really over her ex like she thought ━ she's planning on dropping out of her last year of vet school to use the loan money with the home and grandmother

Caroline

━ Got a secret tattoo in HS without parents knowing ━ Suffered miscarriage after husband passed away ━ Learned how to kiss through a female friend back in HS

Hunter

━ Hunter often lies about his relationship with his family. He and his father have always been at odds and they haven’t talked since Hunter left home to move to LA, though when asked about his relatives, he’s publicly stated that they get along well and are very close, not to cause a bad impression. ━ Hunter has grown to despise the show he stars in, (which I have terribly named) “Dead or Alive”. Another thing he constantly lies about, after all, it would be terrible publicity for both him and the show, but he can’t wait for either the series to be cancelled, or his contract to be terminated. ━ Hunter has struggled with depression, and still struggles with anxiety. It’s not something he particularly lies about, but definitely tries to hide. Hunter has never really recovered from any of his past traumas – from the loss of his mother, to his father’s abuse, he’s always tried to ignore his pain until he couldn’t, and now his mental health is at an extremely fragile state, in desperate need of constant medical assistance.

Christopher

━  Toph is dyslexic, and even though he’s invested hours and hours into tutors and therapies   ━ Topher has Ehlers-Danlos syndrome so his joints are hypermobile and weakened from a lifetime of various sprains and dislocations. He originally took an interest in yoga in an attempt to quell fear that his body would start irreparably deteriorating from his progressive injuries, and while he’s found that it’s offered him some relief and reassurance, he’s still prone to stretched ligaments and dislocations. Though he wouldn’t deny it if asked, it’s not offered knowledge about the gardener. (Save for a handful of rec center yogis who once watched his shoulder pop right out of socket mid one-handed tree pose.) ━ Every now and then, he’ll pull the curtains and open up all of the windows in his loft apartment to let the sunlight and fresh air in, turn on a good song strip totally naked, and enjoy a very relaxed and unhindered yoga / meditation session to refresh and realign his chakras and reconnect with his body. He’s pretty sure his windows aren’t visible from the sidewalk several stories below anyway, but his cat has walked in on him in compromising positions once or twice.

GROUP E 

Skyler

━ Searches for his birth family online when he's drunk ━ He can quote Pretty Woman word for word ━ Once cried for an hour straight at a Cher concert because he thought she was so wonderful

Mai

━ She has the biggest crush on her best friend Beckett and it terrifies her. ━ She suffers from nightmares, so she chooses to use night time for writing or going on walks to avoid sleeping. ━ Though she says she has, she still has yet to let go of her mother’s death after almost nine years of the event passing.

Zahra

━ When Zahra moved to New York, her parents thought she was enrolled in university, but she actually dropped out to become a singer. ━ The night before the day her brother went missing Zahra ignored several phone calls from him because she was auditioning for a gig. ━ Since her return to Santa Monica 2 months ago, Zahra and her parents have been seeing a therapist.

Ophelia

━ The summer before college, Ophelia had a fling with one of her father’s associates. ━ When she was 7, she accidentally melted the face off her sister’s favorite Barbie doll by trying to blow dry her hair. Her sister thinks the dog mangled her doll to this day. ━ When filming her first television show, Ophelia had a crush on her co-star.

GROUP F 

Nathan

━ Before making it big, he had a very brief fling with his boss at the magazine he was working for, who had promised to help him with his career. They lied and he soon realised he needed to do it all himself ━ During his time on the football team in high school, he spent most of his time smoking weed under the bleachers than actually putting the time into practise. ━ Despite still being a major flirt from time to time, Nathan’s avoided dating and everything that goes with it since his divorce for fear of messing that up just like he did his marriage.

Adelaide

━ Has struggled with anorexia for years. ━ Cheated on an ex boyfriend with his best friend in high school ━ Was a bully/mean girl in high school

Alexandra

━ Former worked as a dominatrix Madame Mercy ━ During a weding reception she made out with the groom while everyone else was dancing. ━ Gave her panties to a random guy in order to get a cab, then had sex with said guy in order to get a free ride

Diana

━ Has never learned to drive ━ Will always take the stairs instead of the elevator as they suffer from claustrophobia ━ Walked out on her last boyfriend while he was unconscious in hospital

GROUP G

Iris

━ cried once in order to get out of getting a ticket ━  is obsessed with watching old 90’s cartoons and anime at odd hours of the night ━ had a miscarriage courtesy of her abusive ex-boyfriend

Noah

━ Was actually born in to the Aldridge family, but was kept from the truth his whole life. ━ Failed his drivers test multiple times ━ Used to be bankrupt when taking care of his siblings and had to take loans that took him years to pay off.

Ava

━ Lost her virginity to Alex’s boyfriend at the time ━ Still sleeps with a stuffed animal dog ━ Tells people she graduated from college even if she never attended

RJ

━ RJ is not over his last relationship because he still has feelings for his ex-girlfriend. ━ RJ once ran a popular twitter update account for Rihanna when he was in high school. ━ Before he struck fame with Reckless, RJ was a featured artist on a song, the collaboration was horrible; they also had an accompanying cringey music video produced; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sX6IhJ8wAKw

GROUP H 

Jackson

━ Kissed Kourtney Kardashian  ━ Almost got caught trying to shoplift but played it off as an accident ━ Lied on his resmue about knowing how to tap dance. 

Bianca

━ plays pokemon go religiously ━ truly believes in the supernatural ━ is a published romance author under the pen name Veronica Vanburen

Kaden

━  Never disclosed the fact her parents are criminals and drug addicts to the police academy. ━  Had an affair with a married man ━ She constantly uses hot sauce on any food she can--pasta, sandwiches, burgers, etc.

Abigail

━ In the week before her wedding she had one too many and kissed a girl in a bar restroom. ━ Still rings home once a month and leaves a message despite her parents never returning her calls. ━ Once drove 36 hours to the house she’d once shared with her fiance only to lose her nerve and turn around once she saw he was home.

Jack

━ From age 5-12, Parker has swallowed every piece of gum he's ever chewed. ━ He hates needles and faints very easily at the sight of blood draws ━  He slept with a girl who had a boyfriend four times in one night and then fell in love with her although she decided to stay with her long-term boyfriend.

GROUP I 

Emre

━ purposely let his academic progress go to waste while attending Dartmouth and was put on academic probation twice ━ had a relationship with a woman that was a close friends to his parents when he was 21 and she 42; the relationship wasn’t serious and they only saw each other for about three months ━ one of his first investments fell through with two million dollars on the line from his trust fund

Breeland

━ She is aware of the fact that her drinking has gotten out of control and has been talking to someone about it quietly. ━ Agreed to go on a date with a cop to get out of a speeding ticket. ━ Almost had a drunken hook up with the head of the label she works for even though he’s married

Spencer

━ She catfished a guy on Tinder after he broke one of her best friends’ hearts. ━ Spencer was arrested for assaulting a classmate in high school and had to do counseling and community service. ━ Spence was being stalked by an ex-boyfriend last year and had to get a restraining order against him.

Logan

━  Likes pineapple on pizza ━ Enjoys fruity alcoholic drinks. ━ When he goes out he loosen the salt shakers tops so it spills on whoever is after him/around him.

GROUP J 

Richie

━ The first ever guitar Richard has, he stole. He didn’t want to ask his parents to keep buying him things when they disagreed with his chosen career path, so he went out and stole it so he could write music. ━ Richard cannot remember most of the women he’s been with, by not remembering their names; he came up with a system so that he tells them apart by numbers. ━ Although it may not appear so in every day life, Richie sometimes struggle with his self image while under the pressure of social media comments and expectations for what he should look like.

Mara

━ had a miscarriage when she was 22 ━ she knows that Noah Sinclair is their half brother ━ she used to write fanfictions

Freya

━ she is still a virgin but secretly wants to have sex. ━ she still suffers from partial memory loss of certain major events but tries to act like she knows what her family is talking about. ━ she’s having blackouts and sleepwalks to random places.

Kessa

━ Spent a week in a mental hospital after finding out about her biological family. ━ Constantly feels disconnected with her biological family/because of that disconnect she’s forced to do therapy twice a week by her moms. ━ Was a married couples third for over a year.

GROUP K

Faye 

━ While back in the UK, she made the decision to track down the child she gave up at birth and was rather swiftly denied any contact. ━ Faye recently found out that her family is broke following her father’s scandal. She was the only one with any money, most of which she used for her education in Washington.  ━ She returned to the US stressed and feeling out of control, so her friend took her on a vacation to Vegas where she could be out of control. The weekend ended up very messy and she ended up married to someone she’d only just met.

Sutton

━ Was aware her ex-fiance was cheating, but was too scared to be alone so she pretended to not know.  ━ Skinny dips every third Sunday of the month before dawn.  ━ Even though she should have gave the ring back, Sutton actually paid and kept her engagement right after her engagement ended, it is now in her jewelry box. 

Thalia

━ When she was a tween, Thalia tried and failed at becoming a popular ‘youtuber’. At the time her channel featured vlogs, dancing, baking, and makeup tutorials. ━ Thalia cheated during monopoly at her family’s game night and still feels guilty.  ━  Thalia uses popular hookup apps for the attention she gets, but she never actually meets up with anyone.

Leyla

━ Slept with one of her professors at Harvard ━ Still watches Disney films when she’s having a bad day ━ Once escaped a one night stand by climbing out of a top floor window

[mywinestainedheart]

Depression, Anxiety and … Cigarettes?

I’m not a smoker.

I know this because I take three drags then let it burn to the butt between my fingers. Sometimes it dies before I even take those three drags because I’m not pulling hard enough. Other times I put it out myself and get back to that same stick a week later.

I hate the taste. I usually eat something or wash my mouth out with toothpaste to get rid of it. I hate the smell. I wash my hands three times, toss my jerseys into the washing machine and hang my head over the bathtub for a conditioner-rinse to douse all traces of the scent.

I’m not a smoker.

What I am is a heartbroken, social media stalking, recently-diagnosed-with-depression twenty-eight year old woman trying to quell the anxiety she’s, apparently, been living with since her teenage years. Childhood bullying and molestation sob-stories aside, I always knew there was something functionally wrong with me.

Online descriptions of depression will detail a broad list of symptoms that essentially claim everyone in the world to be depressed. Sleep disorderliness, apathy, agitation, lack of concentration, poor appetite etc., etc. By that standard, my whole first year class at uni was depressed, so I never thought much of it. Besides, this would happen in bouts. It was never consistent. I’d experience an odd wave of anxiety that would come out of nowhere, but hang out with my smoker friends and feel fine for the next five to ten minutes. The next day, that anxiety might even be gone. I would have breakdowns and cry about feeling ugly, vapid and worthless, then eventually sober to no sense of feelings at all. I tend to overthink and get angry very easily. Someone cutting me off in traffic can have me ruminating over it for the rest of the day. I prefer to keep to myself, yet I’m constantly seeking distractions. In childhood it was imaginary worlds through Barbie dolls, in adulthood it was sex. Happiness would come and go, but pessimistic thoughts about myself, my life and my chances of finding love in a partner the way it seemed so easy for all my prettier friends were an ever-present influence on my psyche.

People will tell you “just snap out of it”, “think positive”, “thoughts become things” and, my personal favourite, “choose to be happy”. Well, gee! I never thought of that, clueless Life Orientation teacher who has probably never stepped out of her comfort zone within the northern suburbs of Johannesburg. Imma just wake up tomorrow and tell myself to be in a better mood.

I had learned to exist in this way: Feeling empty and, fittingly, not having a name for it. Feeling sad and not having a reason for it. Overthinking and comparing myself to every girl who walked into the room because I believed that everyone else could see how much lesser than I was compared to her too. I would come up after brushing my teeth to stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and wonder what it would be like to just not exist anymore.

We used to live in an upmarket housing complex in Johannesburg. People who lived in this area are usually well off. They aren’t thought to have problems, and yet, we had a neighbour whose husband shot himself in the complex park. Years later, I heard of a former high school classmate of mine who shot himself in the middle of the street in the same area.

It got me thinking: People who are only occasionally sad, like me, don’t frequently envy people who had the gall to commit suicide, do they?

The first time I went to a psychiatrist was because I broke down in front of my mother the night before. My heart was bleeding from a breakup I hated that I was going through. This man insisted that I “didn’t deserve him”, but the twenty-four-year-old yuppie he used to go to school with, for some reason, did. He picked her over me and he’s happy with his choice. Put that on top of an entire existence of feeling lesser than, and I realised I was a ticking timebomb.

I was toying with the idea of suicide and noticed that the only thing holding me back was a fear of the unknown.

These thoughts are not new, by the way. I’d been having them since childhood. The one I entertained the most was standing behind the kitchen door with a knife to my chest, so that when someone swung the door open, the blade would push through my ribcage. Obviously, this would not be as simple in execution, but I was nine and it was a fantasy. Give me a break.

Upon hearing that I was thinking of killing myself, my mother chortled and told me “you’re behaving like a teenager”. That response would be the number one reason I have never spoken about my deeper feelings with my mom before this. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to love, it was that she didn’t understand that someone like me required a different type of love. A child might not say so because they themselves don’t know what it is, but there will always be subtle signs of a mood disorder. In hindsight, I’d displayed a number of them, but I was dismissed as being anti-social, sullen or attention-seeking.

“I’m just so tired,” I remember saying, choking on my own tears.

“Of what?” My mother demanded. She couldn’t understand what I could possibly be talking about. You’re only twenty-eight, you have a roof over your head and both parents that love you. You have a job. We’ve given you a car. You have freedom. You have friends. What on earth could have you crying like the world was coming to an end?

“Everything,” I said. Because that was the truth. I was tired of everything. I was tired of waking up every morning and remembering that the man I loved had chosen someone else over me. I was tired of driving for an hour every day to get into town, passing everything that reminded me of him and the breakup (including him and his new girlfriend in the middle of traffic). I was tired of going to a job that was adding nothing to my career, tired of budgeting a pathetic salary. Tired of waiting on my father and his promises that he was setting me up on a different career path, tired of eating the same food everyday (if I even remembered to eat). Tired of smoking cigarettes with my cousins cause I felt like if I was failing this badly at life then I may as well smoke up and hope for cancer, and I was absolutely exhausted with the idea that I had lost my twenty-four-year-old niece; a bodacious lover of life who’d existed on a seemingly never-ending vibration of confidence and positivity, to a senseless car accident, but here I was, still breathing.

Someone who deserved life was cemented in the ground. I woke up every morning wishing we could trade places.

The psychiatrist let me talk for a few minutes before diagnosing me as depressed and suicidal. Considering multiple factors and incidences I’d described in session, she said the depression has been there my whole life and that my break up was the lit cigarette that rolled too close to the leaky-gas pipe in my identity, causing this implosion.

Note, I’m not blaming my ex for my mental instability. How could he have known if I didn’t know? I’d had my suspicions, but, like my mother; telling him would have likely amounted to him (initially) dismissing me as being dramatic. What he saw as a “crazy” display of raw insecurity was probably the starter flames of this inferno. Again, not his fault, but he was certainly a contributor, and I find myself struggling not to resent him for that. But that’s a blog post for another time.

The psychiatrist prescribes me anti-depressants, some other drug that causes drowsiness, and orders to me to eight months of therapy with a nice woman she recommends in the area I live now. All I’m hearing is money, money and more money. I can’t afford any of this on what I make, and my dad is a businessman whose entire income is dependent on deals. Sometimes we have more money than we know what to do with, other times we’re so broke that there’s a negotiation between toilet paper and breakfast cereal. At twenty-eight, I’m officially jaded with the financial instability I grew up in, so I dismiss the idea of therapy entirely. Why start something only to stop because we can’t afford it anymore? Besides, I’d apparently been living with this raging beast my whole life. Surely, we could find a way to co-exist once again? Like Venom and Eddie Brock.

I say thanks but no thanks to the medication and go home with a mother who suddenly has a whole new understanding of me. She’s attentive when she talks now, and says ‘I love you’ before she hangs up the phone. Confessing my diagnosis to my father shouldn’t have felt embarrassing, but it did. I hated that he might now see me as weak. I was the one child he didn’t have to worry about. I had a sassy attitude and a smart mouth. I was assertive in my speech and tolerated no bullshit. I could hold my own against anyone, and I knew he was proud of me for that. How would he perceive me after I admitted that I’m not as strong as I pretend to be?

The truth? No different. I was still his daughter. The only change I noticed is that he looks at me when he talks to me (more attentive, like my mother) and makes a point of using my family nickname when he says good morning, hello or goodbye. He’s also trying harder to make sure his planned career path for me falls into place, but I’m no longer holding my breath.

As for me and my revelation of my diagnosis? Like I said, I always knew that there was something functionally wrong with me. I just have a name for it now. I’m still battling with the ideas of death and how I would do it. The running fantasy now is one I usually entertain before bed about slitting my wrists and sliding into a bathtub. Morbid, I know, but it’s the only way I can seem to find sleep these days: Thinking of no longer existing helps me transition into a state where I no longer exist for a little while. I’m not about to slit my wrists any time soon (besides, my pain threshold has a limit. If I were going to kill myself I wouldn’t pick a method quite so agonising and messy), but I recognise that these are not healthy thought processes. I do think I need therapy. After all, you have to learn how to love yourself before anyone else can love you and all that, right? I want to overcome this. I want to see progression in my life and my career. I don’t want my ex to believe he dodged a stagnant bullet the next time he bumps into me—or give him the satisfaction of knowing he was the catalyst of my failure.

I want to be happy.

So as I take my third drag of my last cigarette of 2019, I pray to a Deity I have a shaky belief in and tell myself that this is my rock bottom. It can’t possibly get any worse from here.

Or can it?

I suppose only my next move, and time, will tell.

[gothamtales]

Sobs: Where’s the bamboo? (Pt 1)

Wobble Stones: Sobs & Wobbles

Sobs: Where’s the bamboo? (Part 1)

She raised her wrist and dragged the cuff of her sleeve onto her fist and wiped away the plan for yesterday. The sound of the felt tipped pen against the curved surface, morphed by the heat of the radiator it sat against, jarred her. She was attempting to rebuild her personality in silence. The words ‘church’, ‘hair’, the list of breakfast meal items and budgets now gone. She did dainty deeds more often. Collected flowers and shared photos of them online. She had, over the years, become in tune with the views of the garden, river, parks and flowers that welcomed her when she could force herself to observe them. 

The figs seemed frozen to the tree, little baubles of bright green with a peak on one side of lean fleshed fruit. They had been clinging on since she came here, to the tiled and plastic wood covered plot where they saw fit to let her tire. It was of course magnolia, lightbulbs bare; mouldy, sodden wood frames and an ornamental sense of safety. The cage appeared designed for a mental breakdown. Somewhere obvious and accessible by all and sundry who had even a clue. Her yoga practice gave her a keenness to learn self-defence. The plan, now, was to study and see her attitude translated into art.

The memory of a frozen drink surprised her. On that autumn evening, she had shared a meal with a great influencer. The sharpness of the fruit covered her tongue, the deep blackcurrant juice sparkling and she could feel her eyes blink during her date’s joke. He seemed eager to taste my glass, wondering if he had helped my eyes sparkle. He had, but the drink adorned with a basil leaf and lime rind had sunken into her swollen chest. There was no need to regret that her date did not spark a similar pleasure. By her early teens, she had developed a need to earn money. The plan, was incoherent but she began to write it anyway

1.    Book sessions with Amida

2.    Gain 10lbs muscle

3.    Find a new hairdo

4.    Write my (new) business plan

5.    Speak to the lawyer

She read the list twice and put the wipe board back against the pile of sci-fi novels and self-help books she had found along her journeys to local coffee shops.

Amida was the person responsible for her corseted abdomen. They had been friends for many years, meeting in a Hoxton drinking joint one summer when she had ventured out at night by herself. Amida’s dance style was “cynical dream”, meaning a two-step, hip rock and side-eye to anyone dancing too close to him. Except me and the raft of women who apparently could sense his meek flirtations and negligent sex drive as soon as his skater shoes hit the bar room floor. They laughed when their schedules would allow a night out dancing and picking up one-liners along the street. Amida was a divo behind his hoodie and Converse wearing front. 

They had both grown up in city central, meeting on an apprenticeship before starting their senior studies. Amida could literally not resist a woman with a small waist. He didn’t care much for children unless he could pose for a good photo-op with them. His hair was black and s-curled, always wore a small leather and platinum watch given to him by his grandfather. His lips were plump with a cupid bow and he truly knew how to smile with only his eyes. 

Amida was proudly a child of West Africa. His parents were from Guinea, Nigeria, Ghana and Sierra Leone. They learned to speak their own version of Krio because Amida loved the sounds and how people did not expect to hear those words from him. Women and girls would stop him in the street convinced they knew him from somewhere. Sometimes she would interrupt his lies to them and give them her Barbie death stare to spoil their broodiness. 

Amida was a friend who would buy her a new waist-trainer, force her on jogs around the park and spoon-feed her gari when the stress took her weight down. She was not as fit as him. She wore her hair in buns, refused to wear relaxers and danced him into submission. He made more money than her so they went out where was new, before the prices stabilised. She wore black tops and colourful hair slides and jewels. If she was feeling expressive she would double her earrings, wearing two pairs with wood or rubber accents. 

Amida liked her legs, he would rub her feet and she would rub his thighs when he hurt himself cycling. Their friendship was off-putting to one another’s partners, when they had them long enough to discover the other…friend. So Amida had decided that he could not take his mother’s forceful encouragement to find a wife any longer. She now had to book his time so he could show both of his two girlfriends’ where he had been without lying to them! The curse words had flown between them the day he told her.

“Amida, if onli dat yu pεtulant… kכmbatant…go plit pat fɔ dεn, suntεn yu bin fɔ εnjoy yu marrayd bεd tεm yu sabi drכp die sכnsai.”

“Mi εn mi…kכh bowei …wi nɔ fit plit, yu sawa bεllε drim! Wεn yu bobi kam bak swεl wan, wi go si aw yon man lεk yu mot’ na ya.”

She decided to just get one of his girls drunk, that should sort things. It would not be the first time she had interrupted a clueless woman’s arrested development. Amida did make her vexed with the constant ring-road to his wealthy marriage hand. She didn’t think he needed to make it so difficult to pick between two people, when he did that at least yearly, anyway.

The 10lbs muscle was a treat to be honest. She realised that she had already cheated on her plan because she had eaten quite a large steak the night before. So, she knew she could continue with that plan.

The hair part was an endeavour she took upon every few years. For the past two years, she had perfected folding her twists into buns of every height, density and angle, so much so that when her photo album auto-imager had automatically created fifty-one animations, fifty-one videos and fifty-one collages of her photos over three months, she had to meditate to stop herself cutting all her hair off.

The business plan was her Kilimanjaro. She had confided in three people, all three were in support. The trouble was the strategy she required to take candy from a baby.

The lawyer was also her avenger. She hated him more than most.

Wobble Stones: Sobs & Wobbles

Stories by SiSi