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honeyhenry · 3 years

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Captain Confusion

A/N: Inspired by this video that makes me weep with its cuteness! I just had to write this okay 🥺🥺🥺 This is in the same universe as Homeward Bound, which happens after this story. Feel free to give it a read after this, if you haven’t already! ALSO should note that the lovely @ohmygoodie is my Sy partner in crime and without them this fic would not be made possible :)

Warning: mention of operations/hospitals, and a whole lot of fluff!

It was a simple procedure and so it hadn't worried you too much, other than the usual fears when a loved one is under the knife while in the hands of trained doctors. Sy’s hernia had been authorised for operation only five minutes into the doctor’s appointment you had all but dragged him to, and scheduled for 4 days later. Not really much time to prepare mentally, but you knew it was necessary with your big bear of a man in pain. Despite the painkillers prescribed, he was walking with a limp and groaning in bed for all the wrong reasons.

In the waiting room, you and his Ma kept busy during the 45 minute wait by looking through magazines, talking about how the Captain’s quality of life will improve, and what kind of minor jobs you’ll have him do around the house while he’s recovering as you continue to work.

“I hope the recovery isn’t as long as some people have said. I know for a fact he’ll not want to be cooped up all day. If he’s anything, he’s stubborn” you sigh, knowingly.

Ma smiles, looking at you pointedly, knowing that she is in the presence of the only other soul who knows what is best for her son. “He knows better now that his health is his wealth. He’s got a lot more riding on being well now. After all, it’s not just him he’s gotta be there for anymore.”

“Yeah, I mean I always tell him, he’s not 25 anymore. Or even 30. I’ll need you to back me up, he does anything you say. I’m his equal, you’re his Mom.”

You both laugh a little, hers warm and kind, while yours tinges with the remaining hopeful nerves of an army Captain’s wife. You don’t like not knowing about your Sy, especially since you spent all those years apart, not knowing if he was safe, or even alive. The waiting, in any capacity, is the hardest part.

You’re flipping through a random tabloid magazine, when the surgeon in charge walks through to the waiting room.

“Everything went really well with Captain Syverson. He’s coming to from the anaesthetic and asking for his Ma?”

Ma grins before sucking her teeth between her lips watching as your mouth drops. You both move from the waiting area to follow the surgeon towards where your husband is resting. You speak under your breath, only wanting Sy’s Ma to hear you; “I hope he still remembers how to grovel after this.”

Ma enters the room with you following her, arriving only a couple more corridors along from where you’d last seen him earlier that morning. He may not have asked for you but you were going to see Sy whether he wanted it or not. A grand push of the door allows it to swing open, and suddenly there he is. A little disoriented but has a large dopey smile plastered on his face as soon as he sees his Ma. His heavy head lolls to one side as he rests it on the plush hospital pillow.

“Hey Ma” he groans out as she bends over her large son to give his forehead a kiss, taking his hand in hers. He spends a moment just gazing at her for a while, the love he has for her evident on his face, as she tells him that everything went well, and that he can go home tomorrow.

It’s only after this tender mother and son moment, that he notices you.

“Ma.... why ya bringing a beautiful girl here when I’m like this...oh god I’m not wearing underwear Ma!”

His feeble attempt at trying to cover himself means that you actually end up seeing far more of him than you expected. Nothing you hadn’t seen before, but it definitely hasn't happened in front of his own mother before. The whole situation makes you blush and giggle a little as you try your best to avoid eye contact with Ma. You can only imagine the look on her face, and you don’t want to get any more involved with Sy’s naked form than you need to right now.

Rather than put you and your poor Sy through any further embarrassment, Ma speaks up.

“Oh darlin’, this is y/n. You remember her, right?”

And while he’s listening - or at least pretending to listen to his Ma fussing over him again - he’s just staring at you, gazing in awe as if you were the one to hang the stars in the sky.

“You are.... so pretty” he slurs, making you break out a genuine smile that he mirrors, glad that he was the one to make you look even more pretty.

“Well thanks handsome. How do you feel?” you perch on the edge of the bed and hold his hand. To him, the gesture feels warm and inviting - even if he doesn't know you, he recognises something about you in the comfort that you bring.

“Feel like shit. Oh fuck i said ‘shit’ in front of the lady” he whines again, scrunching his eyes closed as hangs his head in shame. It looks like he might even cry with the realisation that he’s made such a foolish impression of himself. It takes Ma shushing him and making him take a sip of juice from his bedside to calm down, dabbing his face with a cloth when his juice spills from his mouth.

“Oh Logan Daniel Syverson...what did they do to ya?” she lightly scolds as she helps clean up the mess he’s unknowingly created around him. That’s your Sy, a hurricane of mess that somehow fits into order just how he likes it.

You giggle a little more at his shameful expression, before he refocuses, giving you his undivided attention once more.

“How is it that ya know my Ma and we’ve never met? Or have we? ‘Cause I think i’d remember a face like yours”

“Well...” you start, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear to let him see your entire face, hoping it would jog his memory. As you do so, the ring on your fourth finger glints in the hospital light, and for the first time since you've entered the room, he’s noticed.

“Oh...man...knew a girl like you would be snatched up already. Whoever has the honour of being yours is a very lucky man.” He smiles softly, a wistful look in his eye, while makes you realise that you can’t wait for the drugs to leave his system, you have to remind him who you are and who he is, right this very moment.

“Sy honey... we’re married. You’re my husband, and I’m your wife. I think the drugs are making you more than a bit loopy.”

It’s his turn for his jaw to drop, his eyes are unblinking as he takes in what you’ve just said. He turns sharply - more than his doctor would have probably liked - to his Ma, and then back to you, and then his Ma again, waiting for one of you to burst out laughing at the prank you surely must be playing on him.

“Wha-? A wife? I have a wife?” you nod and he exhales a deep breath of air in amazement.

“YOU’RE my wife? Really?” you nod again and Ma smiles at you as she watches the scene of Logan meeting you all over again.

“Am I still in the army? I’m a Captain ya know”

“You left just a few months ago. You still work in the local camps, of course. You like it there, and you’re home every night and most weekends.”

“Does Ma like you?” You don’t even get a chance to finish as he turns to his mother “Do you like her? is she nice? Does she like your new kitchen? I built it y’know.”

You knew when you met, dated, and married him, that Sy was a Momma’s boy. He loves his mother so much, that her opinion will always mean the world to him.

Ma nods “You two are the sweetest couple. She’s the best addition to the family, gives you a run for your money alright. She’s my new favourite.” You get a soft hug from her as she says this, with her wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. She’s always felt so grateful that her Logan found you, because my goodness did he love you ferociously, and he needed you in his life. You were the making of him, and the whole Syverson clan will forever be grateful to you for it.

"And where did we get married? If we really are married.” He continues his line of questioning.

“At the ranch, on your family’s land. it was such a special day. We had the reception there too. And we went to Italy for our honeymoon.”

Sy is basking in every word you say, praying it to be true, as if he could will it into existence if it hadn’t already happened, wanting badly to remember sunset kisses and italian food and beach days all spent with you. He perks up at the last thing you say, taken by complete surprise.

“Honeymoon?! Oh my god have we...ya know..?” A blush fades over Sy’s face, and even though you love his Ma, you really wish she wasn’t finding out so many details about your personal life today, like how your son rails you on the regular in many ways, and in many places. He must somehow remember or at least accurately imagine your past endeavours, as he grins like a little shit.

You smack his arm, lightly but with a firm hand.

“Be quiet, or the whole ward will know about our sex life” you threaten. “Yes we’ve had sex. i’d hope so given that we have a kid on the way.”

If Ma had had to deal with her son getting horny over his “new”wife, she was being fully compensated for it as she witnessed him fall head over heels in love with you, all over again.

“A kid?...Tell me ya not messing with me...are we really- I-” he swallows and his tears come even easier than before “We’re havin’ a baby?” With the sudden realisation, he turns to his Ma. “This beautiful woman right here’s havin’ my kid, Ma?” He looks between the two of you again, watching as you both nod and beam from ear to ear.

“You know you cried just as much when i told you for the first time too. i promise when the drugs are out your system it’ll all make sense again.”

Sy smiles, clutching your hand in his warm palm, almost scared to let go as the door is knocked and he feels you might be taken away. Instead, it’s a welcome visitor.

“Hey doc,” Sy greets the man who reenters the room, now freshly out of scrubs to visit his patient - who if anything is now simply love sick, no hernia to be found. “This is my wife, and she’s having a baby.” he looks back to you with a quirk of his eyebrow “My baby?” You roll your eyes and he confirms it; “my baby.”

“Oh, congratulations...again.”

The doctor’s evaluation and explanations don’t take long, and while Sy is being informed, you start rubbing your belly as a form of self-comfort. You will need to remind your child that while their father looks incredibly stern and impossibly large, he is silly and goofy and already loves them with his entire being. Over the course of the afternoon, Sy talks with you while the anaesthetic wears off. It turns out they had given him a pretty high dosage based on his height and muscle mass, so he would be out of action for a couple of hours at least.

“Oh, i have your ring” you pipe up before he starts getting too sleepy again, taking the thick gold band off of the necklace around your neck, placing it on his finger carefully.

“That feels better already” he sighs, as he begins to doze in and out of consciousness. Before he closes his eyes once more to rest peacefully, a small tear slides down his cheek, which you of course, notice. Sy has cried maybe 5 times in the time you’ve known him and three of those times have been in this very room.

“Honey what’s wrong? Are you in pain? i can call the doctor-”

“No i’m fine i’m fine i just-” he sniffs and tries to clear his throat from the sad, heavy pain he feels in his chest. “I’m gonna be real sad when I wake up from this dream. What if I can’t find you when I wake up?”

Oh your sweet, silly man.

“Bear it’s not a dream, I’ll be right here when you get up properly and we can go home and cuddle and I’ll heat up your favourite meal. I’ll be right there with you.”

“And the baby?” he asks, eyes wide. almost nervous to ask.

“Well they have to come too, they're with me. We can look at their pictures again so you can get reacquainted. And Aika will be so happy you’re back. We’ve been gone the whole day.”

“Aika!” your husband perks up, “Oh Aika, man....I love that dog..”

“I know you do bear, you just get some rest for now and then we can go home.”

Before you know it, he’s fallen back to sleep, his mouth wide open as he slumps against his pillow, completely out of it.

It’s dark outside when Sy opens his eyes again, watching as his Ma passes you a small herbal tea in the dimly lit hospital room. Technically visiting hours are over, but no one was going to argue with the Captain’s family. You smile, and he feels like he can finally relax, in your presence

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he growls lowly, and you look up at him from your phone, beaming in surprise, glad that your husband had woken up feeling a bit more like himself.

“Oh hello again” you smile and squeeze his hand, his slow blinking already indicating a much clearer mind, and that he knows exactly who you are.

“Again? What’d I miss?”

“The drugs” he stops you mid-sentence for a sweet kiss, acting as though a minute more without your lips would be the source of his downfall. “Mmmh, the drugs made you so loopy, it was the sweetest thing, Sy.” You grin as he pulls you up beside him on the bed.

He raises his eyebrows, clearly with no recollection of any of the past events. Yet still, he smiles.

“Yeah? How’s baby?” he holds you close to his side, wrapping an arm around your waist so he can cover your tummy with his palm.

“They’re great. Glad to have daddy back and sane.”

You swear that as you say that, he starts tearing up again, this time however he doesn’t let them fall. He was openly weeping earlier, but you won’t tell him that. Not yet.

“Damnit. Must be something in these drugs they got me on.”

“Mm-hmm sure bear.”

You stay close that evening, both curled up on a hospital bed that is already quite a tight fit for your husband alone. But as always, he makes it work. You’re half on top of him, both of you fast asleep, when the nurses come to do their rounds. Ma had left just after he had woken up, sneaking off into the night to let the rest of the family know how her most middle son is keeping after the operation. You’d cuddled and doted on each other until you’d fallen asleep, Sy following not long after as he bid goodnight to you and your precious cargo with a soft kiss to your lips, and protective rub of your stomach.

He counts himself more than lucky to have something so good, that it would pain him to forget. He was living the life that he’d been too scared to ever dream of, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

taglist: @ohmygoodie @michelehansel @la-cey @palaiasaurus64 @sassy-pelican @brandycranby

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#captain syverson x reader #captain syverson #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #dad!syverson #dad!sy #cavillary #my writing #syverson x reader

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wrathandgreed · 3 years

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Hi! Hope you're having a good day.

For your ask game may I ask 🎨& ⚡?

Okay, so Tumblr ate my first response when I was alt-tabbing between this and Docs. Thanks, Tumblr! But thank you for the prompt, @evierena !

🎨 - Show us a WIP

From “Horn Maintenance” (short fic, fluff, Asmo x reader)

“Hey!” You boop him on the nose with the flat end of the file. “Let me work here.”

A great sigh. “But darling, you’re right here in front of me, and you’re cute enough to nibble on!”

You almost give in. But you want to see if you can bring Other Asmo back. So you settle yourself down in his lap and give him a kiss - not one of passion, but one of gentleness. Then you kiss the tip of his nose and smile right into his eyes. “Azzy, just let me just be affectionate for awhile. Let me take care of you a little.”

“Affec -“ For the briefest of moments, Asmo looks confused and it makes you really sad. You wonder if anyone’s ever asked to ‘take care of him’ without it being a sexual reference. You give him another kiss simply because you can’t stand seeing that look on his face. And then, without looking at him again, you turn back to his horn splinter and get to work.

From “The Seven Brothers Detective Agency” ( I did some googling into the “hard boiled detective” genre, and it’s fascinating. Apparently, in the early 1900s, it’s not that there was a lot of police corruption, it’s that the basic job of the police was enforcing things FOR the mob and/or politicians (basically the same thing back then). In the 1920’s, thanks to Prohibition, the mob began having so much money and power on their own that they didn’t need the cops anymore, and the alliance began to fracture. Enter, now, stories about this schism - people wanted justice, and they wanted stories about people to defend them from organized crime - AND from the cops (again, basically the same thing). So we wind up with the noir detective, usually a cop who disagreed with corruption, and is now jaded and cynical about their fall from the organization. Usually also dealing with shell-shock from WWI. )

(These are currently more like notes than full-on HCs)

Lucifer (The Boss)

Son of Old Money

Served in the Great War, very much against his father’s wishes. Men of their status do not sit in trenches and eat canned muck and get shot by German snipers.

Almost died more than once, saw some Major Shit.

Had a lot of trouble adjusting when he came home. Beds were too soft, everything glittered and sparkled and was too wide-open.

Also too boring. He spent two years facing life and death, and sitting back at his father’s desk with a cigar felt too simple.

So he decided to become a policeman. One of the **good** ones. He truly wanted to make a difference.

The day he enrolled, his father disowned him. Lucifer still had money left to him by his mother, but everything from his old man, including controlling interest in the company, was given to….someone else.

And for the first time, Lucifer felt free.

Rose in the ranks, thanks to charisma and intelligence.

Knew about the corruption, refused to participate, but felt he was too junior still to do anything about it.

By the time he was a senior detective, he’d gotten used to it. He wasn’t tempted by bribes himself, since he had more money than he would ever need.

If he was actually going to help people, he needed to stay on the force. To stay on the force, he had to turn a blind eye.

At least until the murder.

A young Black singer, the daughter of one of his father’s servants.

He’d grown up with her, their servant’s kids were as much his siblings as his actual sister.

This girl was younger than him by a few years, but her voice had been heavenly.

She sang in speakeasies, throaty voice singing the blues.

And now she was dead - brutalized and strangled for telling a rich white kid “no”.

The bastard was caught with blood quite literally on his hands. He fucking confessed.

But the boy’s father was a major contributor of the Chief’s - so her death was ruled an unsolved homicide.

Enraged, Lucifer did what he swore he would never do - he fought the system.

And lost.

And those who supported him - whatever their reasons - were kicked out of the force right alongside him.

So, with too much money on his hands, too much grief in his heart, and too many junior officers looking to him for leadership, Lucifer starts the Seven Brothers Detective Agency.

He saw his juniors - his friends, his **brothers** - and realized that, for most of them, they hadn’t just lost a job, they’d lost a reason to get up in the morning. So he gave them one.

He’ll never admit that he needed a reason to get up even more than they did.

At this point, he’s low key a functioning alcoholic.

He uses big-money cases in order to fund helping the disenfranchised.

Will always help people in real trouble, even if they can’t pay at all.

He spends most of his time on paperwork in the office, and occasionally bailing his juniors out of jail.

Or paying off their mob debts.

Kind of the same thing, anyway.

When he does go out into the field, though, he’s formidable.

He seems to have this otherworldly charm, and people find themselves talking to him, telling him things they maybe shouldn’t.

He’s an expert at questioning someone around in circles until they don’t even know what they’re saying.

He’s also an expert at asking such direct questions that people become uncomfortable. You can learn a lot from someone’s discomfort.

⚡️ - Biggest fear

What really scares me is uncertainty and insecurity. I grew up pretty poor. Not like super poverty, but the type of poor where you start working off the books at 11 and you eat dinner at your grandparents house for a few weeks because your own parents can’t afford groceries because something happened that sucked up available funds. Also, my mom was sick most of my childhood, so I wound up being her caretaker and between that and the whole getting-a-job-at-11 thing, I didn’t really have a childhood or teenage-hood. I’m a lot older now, and I’m in a pretty secure financial place, but I’m still desperately afraid of that one accident or emergency that will send me back into eating at other people’s houses or having to borrow money from my parents to afford to fix my car.

I’ve also got some of my mom’s conditions - plus a few mental illnesses - so part of my fear of uncertainty is what’s going to happen to me in the future. By the time she was my age, my mom was going blind and suffering mini-strokes. I’ve managed to avoid all of that, but for how long? We survive on my salary, so if I become unable to work, we’re screwed. Not to mention I can only be as healthy as I am because my job provides top-tier health insurance. What happens if I lose it? I’m not having children, so how will I be looked after if I actually live to be old?

So, short answer, I guess, is just “the future” - I’m always afraid of things taking a sharp downturn, because my childhood was nothing BUT thinking things were fine and then everything exploding in your face.

#ask game #obey me WIP #w&g stuff #thanks!

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demonsofhunting · 5 years

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"It Feels Like I Can't Breathe" ( Destiel One Shot )

Summary: Dean is at a very low point, and Cas comforts him.

Warnings: angst, depression, light fluff, hurt/comfort

Words: about 1000 ( cute, I know XD )

A/N: So, I didn't plan to write this...I just had to, somehow. Writing my feelings down seemed to be the only way to let it go...I don't know. Here you can see reason #12328438 why I can relate to Dean Winchester. Just because of this fictional character I finally managed to bring up the courage to talk to someone about my mental health, and got to find the help I need.

To everyone who knows what I'm talking about ( or in general everyone who's out there and feels lonely ), I just want to make sure that you know that my inbox is always open! I'm here if you need someone to talk to! You're doing great, so keep going! Always keep fighting! <3

Anyway, I hope you'll like it! Enjoy! <3

Dean Winchester is strong as hell. He has to be. Everything he does, his whole damn life, everything has to be sacrificed for the greater good, every single time. It's like the universe just loves to see him suffer, to see him crawl through his life like a dead vessel without a soul, trying nothing but function properly. Damn, he feels so worthless. Like nobody doesn't really care. He feels this way, no matter how much his family shows him that he's loved. It's like they just can't convince him. What is this supposed to mean? Maybe, it means that he's already broken. That there isn't anything to fix. Not anymore. Dean feels always so...worthless. Empty. Like he's nothing but a burden for his loved ones. He tries to smile for them, every day. But it's so hard to do that. It's getting harder and harder... There is a tight feeling around his chest, making him feel like he lost the ability to breathe...it's like even mother earth herself said: "We don't need you anymore. You're worthless and without any use. All you're doing is stealing other's air."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It's one of these days when the bad feeling gets really bad. Almost visible, like a grinning demon made out of shadows, staring over the hunter's shoulder. Dean's limbs are so damn heavy. Everything hurts and is numb at the same time...it's a strange but so familiar feeling. It's already around midnight as the elder Winchester sits on the bunker's kitchen table, lonely, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. Since I'm too stupid for anything, I can at least make myself going dizzy with alcohol... He blinks the tears away, taking a big sip from the liquid, as a familiar voice rings over to him, surprised. "Dean? What are you doing here? I thought humans need sleep...?" Cas asks, worried. Dean can almost see him in his mind, tilting his head in his 'I don't understand' manner, even though the hunter is sitting with the back to the angel at the moment. "I'm fine, Cas," Dean rasps, almost choking on the whiskey, "I'm just...chilling out, ya know?" "You're lying, Dean," the angel sighs, coming over to him, "Why are you always doing that?" 'Cause it's easy?" Dean growls, rolling his eyes, "I have no idea. Leave me alone, okay?" Cas takes a seat next to him, crossing his arms with a serious expression on his face. "No," he determines. The hunter hisses: "Fine. Then I'll go!" He stands up, but Cas is already grabbing his arm to hold him back. The angel doesn't stop pulling until Dean finally gives in, and sits down again. After a couple minutes of awkward silence in which Cas obviously doesn't stop to stare at Dean, the hunter clears his throat: "This isn't funny, Cas. What do you want?" "I want you to talk to me," Cas mutters, blinking,"You're hurt, I can feel that." He tilts his head, and adds: "Even though...I can't see any physical wounds here. So...it might be your soul which is damaged." The other chuckles, coldly. "Oh, my sweet angel. You're such a genius!" he scoffs, making Cas frown. "Stop making jokes, Dean. This isn't funny,"he says, firmly. "Technically, this wasn't a joke - "Dean begins, but gets interrupted by Cas turning to him, and grabbing him by the shoulders. "Dean! Stop!" the angel tells him, his eyes filled with desperation, "I'm deeply worried! You always push me away and...I just can't stand that! So - for my dad's sake! - talk to me!" Dean tries his best to stay strong, but Cas' words free something inside him, making tears coming out of his eyes, suddenly. Damn it. I...I don't want to cry in front of Cas! He tries to hide his face, and turn away, but the other's grip is to firm for him to move. So, he's forced to gaze into the angel's blue, blue eyes... The eyes of the man he loves. The eyes, in which he could see the life fade away as Cas died. He can't help but start to shake. Suddenly, he is nothing but tears and sobbing, as it all starts to come out...finally. He held it back for way too long, making him suffer under its weight, every day. He collapses into Cas' arms, who hugs him, passionately. "Dean...shush. You're safe. I...I'm here," the angel whispers, kissing his forehead. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Cas," Dean cries out, the whiskey bottle falling to the ground where it shatters, "I don't know why I have to feel like shit all the time! I don't want it! I...son of a bitch, I feel like I can't breathe!" His whole body is shaking,his hands are clutching on his angel's trenchcoat like it's his only anchor. "Hey," Cas says, calmly, "It's okay, it's okay..." "No, it isn't! Everything is wrong everytime! Since I'm a kid, I know almost nothing but...pain. How is this possible?" Dean sobs, weakly. "I don't know. I think some people are just living a hard life, filled with misery. There are souls out there who are tortured without any reason...maybe you're one of them, maybe not. But you don't have to hate yourself. You're doing amazing, Dean! You're unbelievable strong! You can survive this! Hey, look at me!" the angel says, raising Dean's head with his fingertips, slowly, "Your family loves you. Your friends love you. Sam loves you. And - and I love you!" With these words he kisses Dean, softly. The hunter kisses back, every single movement is filled with desperation. "Are you sure that I can make it?" Dean whispers between two kisses, his eyes swollen form crying. "I wish you knew how beautiful you are," Cas says, breathing, heavily, "Yes, I'm more than just a little sure, Dean. You're gonna make it. We all are. And if you need me, I'm always there for you. Sam as well, of course -" "Thank you," Dean interrupts with a light smirk. Then he kisses his angel again, making the world disappear around them.

Aaaaaand that's it! Thank you so much for reading and if you would like to leave a comment or reblog this shit, I will love you forever! <3

Feel free to tell me if you found mistakes, too. I know that this is far from perfect! ;)

Destiel/Forever Tags: @adoptdontshoppets @rebeloftheseas @ablavalba @smodernlife @ignis-glaciesque @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel @xsghn @trenchcoatsandfreckles @helpmeluci @legendary-destiel @leahslovelylibrary

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fireflythecinnamonjollyrancher · 3 years

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hello it is once again time for my end of the year wrap up. this should be... interesting

january

finally finally got to have a happy apartment experience!!!!! tried out tea drops which are dope. there was a fair amount of stress revolving around APO induction and the musical rehearsal, but we made it!!! partied hardy (the infamous tess in the washing machine incident) kelli was watching always sunny more often than not. i wore some arguably bad clothing but ya know. gays. we tried to take off my closet door (it did NOT work). the beginning of the goose saga! there was a sleet storm so kelli and i made some popcorn and watched mike birbiglia’s new special. darci, kelli and i went out to eat and then ended up in babcock playing air hockey before watching videos with kai who was on duty. PEP BAND???? some good memories formed there. dogs in the library! got bullied by my library boss to put gas in my car and i sent her a video of proof that i did it “daddy long legs” “stop. what?” “the musical” (i do love timothy) i actually practiced my instrument lol wild. WE (becky, celeste, timothy and i) WATCHED SPIRIT and got wildly drunk -- the origin of “[redacted] [redacted] who???” which is my favorite joke.

february

MORE PEP BAND im actually really glad i spent my last few college months dicking around with the band. one man drumline!!! kai made some good tiktoks in our apartment! miss hanging with them it was really fun. oh i hung out with sam and celeste watching movies “he was a boy, she was a dolphin, can i make it anymore [strangled dolphin noises]” OUR MICROWAVE HANDLE BROKE OFF while kelli was gone man that entire apartment was falling apart (hey dumbass grab from top) -- a list of things that were broken in our apartment: fridge light, front entry light, showerhead, phone. the birth of the beans insta!!!! got hit on when i was at taco bell with timothy by being accused of being trans (taco bell guy was not far off to be fair). oh the improv posters as compared to the posters i built for an organization fair. went out and got daRUNK at what appears to be wandas. really struggled with my period. cut hair with kelli n darci. MOZZ STICKS. “you still a lil bitch???” oh we did kpy pal-entines!!! where we ate good food and watched the princess bride!!! i received the plush goose. there was a possible bombing at the bank next door to where we rehearsed for band. aw i went on a tommy’s date with becky that was cute. they tried to STEAL the QUESO. disagreed with a curb and still have those scars. worked a horrible gig at the theatre. closing shifts at the library baby! middle school tours EW more library dogs! fish hooks song oh my god. drunk mash nights!!! i rewatched HAVEN and had lots of feelings. actually got drunk alone a lot which was Bad. however michael malloys birthday! watched choir concert at work lol. stats final whilst drunk!!!! becky got a piercing

march

here things go downhill rapidly. hit up the trains at least once. oh late library nights with timothy!!!! the best nights i miss hanging with him while at work. struggled with my car. went on a college sponsored adventure to a back alley farm. SCURVY FEARS. opening shifts that were lonely. oh celeste played plague and named it covid and won lol yikes. the infamous apartment cone. we stayed up long enough to see the sunrise on literally the last day in college I would ever have. that was good. I FOUND OUT KELLI HAD GLASSES im still pissed. came home indefinitely. went to st patty’s day at brookes with karrigan and that was SO much fun (this was before things seemed real) the best part of that was the irish pub owner who happened to have a son that went to my college. got my mom onto tik tok. took a gay lit class. can’t believe i took daily fckn walks around the pasture who was i. hosted virtual meetings for apo and played around with the closed captioning. that was fun. shaved my moms head lmaooo. worked on my capstone which im like super proud of? i wish i could have directed it but say law vee.

april

BAGPIPE CORPS INTERNATIONAL. virtual band wreaked havoc on my animals mental health. my grandmother would always bug me while i was working which i understand now was misplaced love but it was so irritating at the time. we had library meetings once a week or so that was vital to mental health. hosted a really fun “panel” about queer identity for my queer lit class that was able to educate a lot of people. having a capstone class with am*lia was a nightmare. watched a cirque du soleil show for free and lost my mind. wrote a comedic monologue that i suffered through. suffered through papers and projects. worked on a project with celeste and kelli and we had SUCH a good time. i hosted several jackbox nights for both apo and kpy. that was SUCH an exhausting experience. also uno and drawful with the uno group (kelli would win 100% of the time). ranted about group projects lol i struggled. OH THE MOVE OUT DEBACLE i really went off the deep end. kelli’s virtual birthday!!!!

may

we had so many good jackbox nights. academic showcase and honors convocation happened wherein i was name bronco award winner and that really wrecked me too lol. we had a sunday crew hang out for library workers. clarinet game night too! i tried so hard to build community during covid and im not altogether sure i accomplished it but ya know whatever. watsky broke the record! made my “aced it” grad cap which was so FUNNY and still is tbh. becky taught me how to do makeup. took grad pictures at an abandoned farmhouse lol OH MY GOSH BEAUX ARTS AND APO SKIT i was so proud of that night and annette said it was the best one we’d ever had. wish i had done more but we did it boys. also got VERY drunk for it lol completely redid my room. bc it was NASTY. the way i write papers is so SO funny to me. had our last capstones class and then dressed in grad outfits for our last lit meeting . graduated and got all my stuff from college finally. went shopping with timothy, had el puerto with becky (i think?). oh the infamous miller moths UGH shit is nasty. THE FORMING OF BANJO SHRIMPS occurred on may 24 2020 and that was the absolute best thing to come out of this year. started working at my dads agency which was the absolute worst thing to come out of this year. attended my first protest in cos which was good and healthy. started protesting regularly after that. my most poignant memory was laying down in front of city hall and chanting “i cant breathe” for 8 minutes.

june

it snowed???? i was angry. part of my job was reading my dad’s email and there was some WACKO shit in there. went to brookes for pride as a surprise which was cute n fun. had a horrible interaction with a client. the appearance of the bigfoot statue!!!! we had a vanilla beans hang out. there was a WILD storm that literally made my hide out in the office.

july

went on a bonkers rant about america bc fuck this place. helped mom out with homework. we had several clients get divorces which was messy. went to a Bad party where i was angry the whole time. went to the top of pikes peak with my grandma and saw many much bigfoot things. we got a GOOSE he hated us so much. oh there was a night where darci and kai came over and we hijacked kelli’s spotify and communicated that way it was SO funny. took a video of the dichotomy of man bc of my long ass leg hair and short ass head hair. shaved my head to the BONE and tried dragon fruit. GOT NIKO ON JULY 24 my sweet sweet boy lil bat looking motherfucker. got denied for life insurance for mental health reasons.

august

went back to hc for a birthday “party” and to see the band. did a lot in that weekend (stayed with timothy’s family, helped becky move, met kelli’s look-alike, saw timothy and karlie’s new house!!! had lunch with kellis family which is closest to “meet my parents” i think i’ll ever get lmao). got my prof headshots and hate every single one of them but more for self esteem reasons lol. neighbors got goats and my mom lost her marbles. got trapped in traffic on the way back from hc. niko had crackhead energy. oooooooh documented gender crisis. ma got more chickens. went to a birthday party for a high school friend and was just... so out of my element. its weird. took off my grandma’s bathroom door bc she had knee surgery. started a full time job as my grandmother’s caretaker (love working for the family business lol).

september

went to breckenridge with a friend!!!!!! spicy times lol. cleaned the cupboard. had a birf. turned 22. cas finished her drugs!!!! and felt much better. we did a charcuterie board for my birthday which was very fun. Got a mixer set!!! went to hc for homecoming and graduated!!!!! surprised celeste and hannah with a celebration party for them (it was a lot of fun). came up with my BEST joke (summa cum laude). got called tf out for my gender crisis via tarot. got the goose game!!!! played the goose game!!!!

october

applied to chicago center!!!! will now be working there for a year!!!! this was the first documentation of banjo shrimp nights. surprised my dad for boss day by working with the team to fill his office with balloons. house sat for dad’s friends. started taking showers in the dark. went to celestes and made PASTA wow got very drunk and while she slept i just explored a strangers house. voted!!!!! wow. finally (finally) started to accept that i was maybe agender. had a snow day but i couldn’t work so that was fun. had halloween with banjo shrimps where i dressed up as david rose. that was SUCH a good night. participated in ace week!!! then, dressed as radar for actual halloween and had monumental. worked a volunteer haunted house and like... actually did pretty good?? felt like a real adult!!!!

november

so many things happened in november. i finished miraculous ladybug on netflix. had another bad interaction with a client bc the customer is always wrong. shaved my head. PRESENTATION NIGHT to distract from the election lmao what a good time. had so many emotions about the election. then biden won and we lost our damn minds -- video called with celeste and becky to celebrate (with the reminder that we know that this doesn’t solve everything but it was such a huge sigh of relief). started watching the last kids on earth. made more PASTA and soup! got my GHOSTY TATTOO. kahoot night with the banjo shrimps lol. watched the supernatural finale with kelli (what good memories) rewatched 3below good shit. got the chicago job so i quit being an insurance person!!!! brooke came for thanksgiving!!!

december

i dont wanna talk about it but i finally started watching unus annus (theres an archive its not the same but it provided me wild amounts of serotonin). “call that invisible split dye”. crimmus. had a video call with people from high school i rarely if ever see. this entire month has been a fuckin blur my guys but i’m so excited for what’s next. in two days i will be in an apartment in chicago. i will be reunited with my best friend in a little under two weeks. i cannot emphasize enough how excited i am for this next chapter. so yeah. that was my year. im sure there was more memories but that’s what the sideblog is for lol

#firefly talks #yearly wrap up

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strangephiti · 4 years

Text

Frightening Thoughts

!!!WARNING!! CONTAINS THOUGHTS OF SUICIDE AND FAIRLY GRAPHIC INJURY DESCRIPTIONS!!

A free-write. Just some thoughts.

When I was a teenager I told myself that if my life hadn’t significantly changed (meaning if I hadn’t significantly changed) by the time I was 18 – I would kill myself.

The window in my bedroom was one of those that opened up fully, like a door, for ease of cleaning. Really it just made it easier for me to stand on my window ledge and look down, thinking about all the different things that might happen to my body when I landed.

If I jumped, I might land in the neighbours garden. Theirs was about 3 feet higher than our own. There was grass and mud. That might soften the blow. Would I still die? If I didn’t jump far enough I might land on the railing. It wasn’t a spiked or pointed railing. It had rounded peaks. But could it still impale me if there was enough force? Would it break my back? Straight down was our garden, and a concrete path. If I stepped straight off, no forward momentum, I would simply plummet. But then what? I’d probably land legs first (there wasn’t enough height to allow my body to twist naturally). They’d break beneath me. Shatter, more likely. My head would hit last but would there still be enough velocity in the fall to kill me? Or would I just lie there and wait and wait and wait for someone to find me?

I thought about that fall the most. I imagined my bones breaking, spine crumpling up like a concertina, blood vessels popping under the strain. I thought my spine might push its way up into my brain and end it all – but not before I suffered a significant amount of pain. I wasn’t really all about pain. I just wanted…

I don’t even know what I wanted. Just not to be me, I guess.

I was raised Christian, for the most part. I had my own Children’s Bible with a bright yellow cover and a glorious rainbow spread across the front: the symbol of hope; the promise. But that hadn’t always been the case. When I was younger my Mum had joined the Jehovah’s Witnesses.

(There is a whole story about my Mum questioning the ethics and morals of the church, wondering why they allowed some people to “break the rules” and allowed others to suffer rather than stray from the “word” - how she was ostracised from the community for such questions – and about how my mild mannered Dad was driven to yelling and throwing the Elders out of our house for making my Mum cry. But that’s one for another time.)

Back then, I had a “My book of Bible Stories,” a children’s Bible complete with “read along” story tape. In stark contrast to the promising rainbow, it had been filled with full page images of death and misery. The first image in the book was Christ crucified (not on a cross, on a pole. I don’t know why). They did not shy away from the gore, the fierce nails in his feet and hands, the wound in his side, and the blood dripping down his face form the crown of thorns. There was picture of Cain, running away from the body of Able, who lay in a pool of blood. Another picture was of Lot’s wife, turned into a pillar of salt. And then there were the plagues. The picture I remember the most was the one with faces twisted in agony as their bodies erupted in grotesque boils.

I don’t remember anything uplifting or positive in this version of the Bible. For some reason, these pictures fascinated me and I found myself going back to them again and again. I guess this speaks to my state of mind and the kind of person I am. Maybe, then, it is not surprising that I think dark thoughts sometimes. But the thoughts didn’t come from the pictures. Another kid my age might have found them scary and refused to look. They did scare me, but only in some far off place – a place that was almost not even attached to me. There was something in the misery and suffering that fascinated me. It still does. And I don’t know why. It’s part of what’s wrong with me. I tend to gravitate towards misery, despite living a good, lucky, blessed life with very few hardships at all. I have no reason to feel the way I do. But I do.

At any rate, we joined the Church of Scotland, hoping (I guess) for real answers. I don’t my Mum ever found them (not in the faith itself, at any rate). When I turned 13 I automatically joined the teen group, Young Peoples Church (“hey, teens, Church is cool, right?”) I was given a more “grown up” bible. It was small, brown, leather bound, and had a sort of index at the front, guiding you to sections of the Bible for times when you felt: troubled; tempted; angry; depressed. And for times when you were facing change, divorce, stress. And for times when you were contemplating suicide. I had looked up most of the passages about depression, self-doubt and suicide. I didn’t find much of comfort or help. Just inspirational quotes – like a cat poster – cute but with little impact. t

One day I was standing by the window, looking out, I made a decision. I decided to open my Bible at a random page and, if what I read didn’t forcefully drive me away from suicide, then I would jump. I know I made this choice because I was afraid to jump. I didn’t really want to. I just didn’t really want to continue as I was either. Probably anything I read would have “enlightened me.” Or I would have thought of another excuse. (The real fear was what would happen when I ran out of excuses.)

But, at any rate, I opened the Bible. On this random page wasn’t anything about suicide. It didn’t even seem to have much to do with the doctrine of Christianity either. Front and centre there was a picture – simple, featureless, line work – of a young man with his neck caught in the crook of a tree branch. His legs were flailing and his hands clawing at the wood as he fought for life. He lost. What I read was not his story, but the story of the weeping and wailing Mother, the Heartbroken Father, the pain and agony of the ones left behind. I wanted an excuse not to jump. And I found it.

I have no idea what that story was (some Old Testament tale, I suppose) but it stuck with me. Had I been more serious about jumping – or more desperate – it might have meant nothing to me. But it gave me the excuse I needed at the time.

I sometimes thought that it’s the only reason I kept on living. I didn’t want my parents to have to find my mangled, crumpled body. The truth is I am scared of dying. It’s just that living is so hard and I don’t think I’m strong enough to do it. It’s hard for everyone – harder for some. Life is about fighting battles, and celebrating moments. But I’ve never been a fighter. If I ever came close to dying by my own hand, it’ll be because I’ve given up completely. I’d just stop: stop eating, stop drinking, stop speaking, stop moving, until it was all over. I’m not entirely sure I still won’t, one day, and it frightens me.

These days I only get up and move around and make food only because I am some poor unfortunate souls Mother. If I didn’t have him I would lie around and do nothing until someone broke down my door and dragged me to my feet. But I have him. And he is worth every breath I can muster.

This Boy, with such potential, has been unfairly stuck with me. This Boy, with so many struggles to face in his life, has been left with a woman who never learned how to fight. I thought I would learn to fight for him. I have done more than I once thought I could. I would show up week after week at the Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service, nagging them with the same questions, the same woes, asking and asking for more help for my son, until they got sick of me and referred me on (only to be “signed off” yet again). I went to endless meetings with teachers and tried to argue his case, fight in his corner, only to be reduced to a little girl sitting bashfully in the head teacher’s office, afraid to contradict my “elders and betters.” The only way I was able to find the strength to finally kick my ex out was because his behaviour was starting to affect my son.

But I’ve watched other Mother’s do so much more for their kids. Some of them are fighting these battles, raising other kids, holding down and job and writing blogs about it all at the same time. I could barely get an appointment with a therapist. I sometimes think I have done more harm for him than good. And here is where the thinking comes full circle:

I kept myself from thoughts of taking my own life with the knowledge that it would hurt – and it would hurt – those I love. I don’t doubt that they love me (I often doubt whether or not they like me, but never their love). But nowadays I feel more like a burden. I’m still afraid of dying. I don’t really want to. But I feel like I do nothing but cause worry and concern, that I need too much from people, that I offer too little. Now, instead of believing that killing myself would be selfish, because it would cause harm, I sometimes think that living is the really selfish thing.

I am like a terminally ill relative. Everyone helps to take care of them. Everyone worries about them. A phone ringing causes panic because it might just be “that call.” No one wants them to die. They want them to get better. But they know, in their hearts, that just isn’t going to happen. The inevitable will come, one day. And when it does there will be heart ache, there will be grief, but there would also be some sense of relief. “At least,” they could say, “She isn’t suffering any more.” At least the could concentrate on their own lives at last. At least they could sleep without worrying and wondering. At least they could live.

But I don’t want to do it. I have gone from being a selfish person who hadn’t considered the pain my death might have caused, to being a selfish person who won’t give people the release they deserve. I would be doing them a service.

These thoughts are the most frightening of all.

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