#Trying to tell me what kind of antidepressants i can take and 'you should double check with your doctor' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flooffybits · 4 years

Text

Dependent

Idol: Loona

Anon: 13th member of Loona is struggling to eat and sleep due to stress so when she gets lightheaded during a fansign/concert. -❄️ if not taken

Loona’s 13th member who is the maknae getting really overwhelmed with juggling school and idol life. She starts taking some drugs that are supposed to help her stay up, while simultaneously hiding it from the other members cause she knows that they would kill her if they knew. They slowly start getting more and more suspicious until something happens and they finally catch her taking the pills. She still tries to brush it off but they won’t let her. Thank you so much

loona reaction to 13th member not eating and almost fainting and getting hurt. I love your writings🤍

Warning: improper use of antidepressants

Author’s note: I decided to combine these requests because they are pretty similar and I don’t want to have to write separate fics and have them both look nearly the same as each other. Also, i tried to research more on the medication for this sort of situation just to make it a little more accurate but if there is anything I did wrong, please feel free to tell me

☕buy me a coffee☕

Slamming your head on the table, you let out a groan after finally finishing your homework. But once you checked the little sticky note you placed just by the lamp, you whined when you saw that you had three more things to finish.

After this, you had to head to the company for practice.

Lifting your head, you did your best to finish up the rest of your homework before finally packing up and grabbing your phone. You went to hurry out of your room when Jungeun’s voice called out, indicating that you had to leave soon. But as you reached the door, you paused, hand on the doorknob as you glance at your desk.

Reaching for one of the drawers, you pulled out a pill bottle before quickly taking one out and popping it into your mouth. Screwing the cap back, you placed the bottle back inside, making sure it was hidden under the various papers and other items you had before shutting the drawer and heading out.

As soon as Jiwoo caught sight of you, her face lit up like usual before clinging to your arm and leading you outside. You plaster on a smile, perfectly practiced, while Hyunjin eyes you from a few feet away when she was talking to Yeojin, brows furrowed slightly before shrugging her shoulders and then getting in the other car so you could all get going.

“Hey, did you eat breakfast?” The older girl questioned after situating herself on her seat and you blinked in surprise before checking your phone for the time, mentally cursing yourself for forgetting. “Oh! Uh, I had a few snacks in the room.” You lie, plastering the same forced smile and leaning back.

With all the things that was happening to you, you would absolutely forget all sense of time and missed meals. Though with your tired and drained self, you found it difficult to even have the appetite to eat much except for a few bites, which, Jinsoul and Kahei have reprimanded you whenever they noticed.

Your members aren’t aware of the pills, however, but you preferred it that way because you know that as soon as they find out, you were screwed. You were doing this behind their backs, so that made it much worse, because there was always going to be some sort of way to prevent resorting to such mechanisms, you thought it was the easiest in helping you since things have just been too much.

Luckily, no one was able to pick up on it since you were able to mask it well, playing around and laughing when everyone was around. But that was just you.

Unaware of the few eyes that often lingered on you, you would go on with your day without the worry of anyone finding out.

Staring at the bottle in your hand, you grimaced while continuously glancing at the time. Your manager was coming to pick you all up for a concert and you had only an hour of sleep and just a snack bar after finishing the group project you had to submit a few days after.

It would have been easier to finish, but you had gotten stuck with possibly the worst kinds of group members with two of them being nothing but leeches and another constantly butting heads with everyone. You had no choice but to do everything yourself and it was wearing you out with how you had to juggle all of that, your homeworks, and practices.

“Y/n-ah, com-”

Yerim pauses at the door when you hurry to stuff the bottle inside the drawer and throwing it shut, head snapping up to meet the purple haired girl’s gaze when you slapped on another forced grin. “What are you doing?” She asked you, alarm laced in her voice but you quickly waved your hand and then grabbed your things before leading her out of the room.

“I was just double checking some stuff for school! But we should go, unnie.” She doesn’t quite believe you with the way you avoid her gaze. Based on the few years you’ve been together, the girls could easily tell whenever you were lying or hiding something from them.

But with how you were all in a hurry, the bright haired girl wasn’t able to protest as she went along with you, making a mental note to notify one of the older girls due to your weird actions. She was sure what she saw had nothing to do with any school works, but she would let you be for a while until the performance ended.

“You seem troubled.” Jinsoul observed from beside the usually cheerful girl and patted her shoulder. “Nervous?” She questioned, but Yerim bit her lip before shaking her head. “It’s not that, just a little confused I guess.” She muttered as her eyes went back to where you were having your makeup done.

Yeojin and Hyejoo were messing around behind you and laughing because of how you were falling asleep with the makeup artist constantly waking you up.

The older girl followed her gaze and sighed softly before she smiled. “Don’t worry. After this, she can catch up on some sleep.” She assures, but Yerim shook her head before finally turning so that she’s facing the blonde.

“Y/n’s been acting weird.” She suddenly says and her brows pinch together, shoulders tense when she crosses her arms. “I mean, she’s been doing a good job but she doesn’t talk as much lately and she’s always stuck in her room when we’re at home.” She recounts the various times she’s caught you busying yourself in your shared room but refusing to spend more time with any of the members.

“Am I being clingy?” Jinsoul was surprised by the question, but before she could compose herself and answer, Heejin was already there to cut in. “You’ve noticed, too?” When both girls look at her, they see that Kahei is also there, watching worriedly as you sleep next to Hyejoo while Yeojin was finishing her makeup.

“You’re talking about Y/n?” The pair nod and Heejin lets out a breath while shaking her head. “Hyunjin’s told me that she’s seen her taking something lately. At first, she thought they were just vitamins, but Y/n has been super secretive about it.”

“I asked her about it and she was acting really clueless. When we asked Vivi unnie to talk to her since they’re the closest, all she said was that she was fine and just stressed with school.” She added, the eldest nodding in confirmation. “Haseul and I went to check, before, but Chuu told us she went to the bathroom at the time.” Kahei began to tell them, her concern clear on her face. “While we were waiting, you know how we have trashcans in our rooms?” She asked.

“I noticed a bottle in there, so I checked it out since I remembered what Hyunjin said. There were so many blank papers, almost as if she was trying to hide it there.” She reached into her purse and held out the bottle, letting them see the label.

“These are…” Their eyes widened and Kahei grimaced while nodding her head, putting the bottle away. “How long has she been taking them? And why?”

“We don’t know yet. She’s been so busy with school and we’ve been working on the comeback on top of that. We didn’t have the time to talk to her. We didn’t want to do this in front of all the members, but it looks like more than half of us are already aware.” Heejin explains with a frown when she glanced over to see you had already been woken up.

Judging from the look of things, you and the other two, along with Sooyoung, decided to practice the choreography before getting on stage.

With a heavy atmosphere, the girls decided to take the matter in the dorm where there wouldn’t be any unwanted attention and possibly cause a scandal within the group.

When you were all performing, you all were able to maintain a professional air around all of you, but when it wasn’t any of their parts, the girls would watch you with careful eyes, and Hyunjin did notice the slight change in your expression, as well as the falter in your step when no one seemed to notice.

At the end chorus of the song, you could feel the nausea hitting you harder compared to earlier. The lights were making you dizzy and lightheaded due to your lack of sleep and food intake. Your breathing had grown ragged and before you even knew it, you were on your knees, one hand on the floor to keep yourself up and the other used to clutch your head.

Fans gasped at the sight and your members were thrown off by your sudden collapse. And instead of continuing the performance, Kahei had broken formation and ran to your side to check if you were alright. She helped you sit up and let you lean against her instead while the rest of the group circled around you, all looking worried as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? What happened?” She asked, but the ringing in your ears made it difficult to comprehend what exactly she was saying. You only screwed your eyes shut tight before feeling hands reach for you and then you were being carried off stage by the staff.

“Girls, we need you to move so we can check on her.” The staff explained when the medic arrived. Your members had followed quickly, forgetting about ending the performance. When you were placed on the couch to lay down, Chaewon grabbed one of the hand fans and handed it over to the eldest because she thought you needed something to cool down.

They all quickly did as told and watched as the staff began to run a quick check up, checking your pulse, temperature and everything else that was necessary. When he asked you to try and follow the light shone to your eyes, you had a bit of struggle in doing so before he finally finished.

“Is she going to be alright?” Hyunjin asked worriedly and the man nodded his head. “I didn’t find anything too alarming. She’s exhausted. Despite the makeup, she’s paler than she’s supposed to so I think it’s best to give her something to eat and probably rest for a few hours.” He sighed while checking his notes. “If anything else occurs that you think could be a problem, I’d recommend taking her to the hospital for a more thorough examination.”

After thanking him, everyone got ready to leave since there wasn’t really anything left for you to do there.

Jungeun kept you beside her, holding your head against her shoulder, letting your legs rest on her lap as you curled into her when you had dozed off again. The van was unusually quiet, but due to your state and Haseul’s orders, it was understandable why that was the case.

Most of your members would keep stealing glances at you throughout the ride home while the others tried to catch a few minutes of sleep as well.

“Y/n, we need to talk.”

As soon as you were seated on the couch and Sooyoung prepared some food for you, Hyunjin had spoken up. And judging by how Jiwoo, Jinsoul, Kahei, Haseul, Heejin, and Yerim were looking just as serious, you had an inkling feeling as to what this was going to be about due to how both Kahei and Heejin have approached you before.

“We aren’t mad.” Heejin assured you when she saw the way you refused to look at any of them in the eye. “We just want to know why.” Haseul murmured when she sat on your other side, placing her hand over your own to let you know that they truly weren’t angry at you.

“We notice how you rarely eat. Snacks don’t count as meals though and they won’t give you enough energy for when you need them.” Jinsoul scolded. “And sometimes I’m not sure if you get some sleep.” Jiwoo states, being your roommate, she would know. “I understand staying up on some nights, but not sleeping at all?” She adds while Yerim frowned. “Y/n, when was the last time you had at least six hours of sleep?” The question makes you go quiet and it was clear to them what the answer was.

Sooyoung arrived with your food a little after they all sat down to talk to you and she crosses her arms when she sees the way you stare at the bowl. “You either eat it on your own or I’m going to feed you, myself.” With the tone of her voice, you know she isn’t joking this time and nod your head before reaching for the bowl and slowly eating what she prepared for you.

“We want you to be honest, okay?” Jinsoul purses her lips when Kahei hands you the empty pill bottle, all of them watching as you stiffened in your place. “Where did you…”

“I found it in your room when you tried to throw it away.” She explains softly. “Why do you have them?” Sooyoung questions immediately, her lips pressed to a thin line as you let out a shaky breath. “I-I don’t-”

“Y/n, please. We just want to know the truth. What’s going on?” You feel Haseul squeezing your hand. You stare at your lap for a while, chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to gather your thoughts with everyone patiently waiting for you to speak.

Finally relenting, you shut your eyes and shake your head. “I was scared, I guess.” You muttered and Jinsoul sits down on one of the couches. “Scared of what?”

You had to pull your hand away from Haseul’s as you rubbed your arm, shrinking into yourself as you let out a heavy sigh. “That people start realizing that maybe I’m not good enough.” You finally admitted. “I’m still a child and I can barely work through both my school requirements and our schedules. If I start lagging behind, everyone’s going to think that I’m not fit to be an idol because I don’t have what it takes.”

Suddenly, you felt someone hit the top of your head with a rolled up magazine. “You are such an idiot, I swear.” Sooyoung started. “Just because you’re struggling with school and being an idol doesn’t mean you aren’t qualified.” Heejin tells you when she managed to pry the magazine away from Sooyoung’s hands.

“Majority of us debuted while we were still studying. You have Yeojin, Choerry, and Olivie Hye with you when you go to school, right?” Yerim nodded at Kahei’s query, but it only made you frown more, stubbornly wiping away tears when they began to trail down your cheeks. “But I’m not as good as them.

“That’s not true!” Yerim quickly interjected as she moved from where she was standing and was soon kneeling in front of you. “You’ve been working just as much as the three of us, and sometimes even more. We admire you so much because, even though you’re a year younger than Yeojin, you’re still able to keep up with us and even try to help on some of the things we’re studying despite being unfamiliar with them.”

“You’re also one of the few who are quick when it comes to practices and recording.” Jiwoo added, Hyunjin and Sooyoung nodding in agreement. “You keep looking at things that you can’t do but fail to notice the things that you can do.” She tells you with a soft smile. “Maybe you start realizing that you are enough.”

“And with all of that, there are a number of kids your age who try to do the same. But look at you - already debuted and working on our comeback.” Heejin said with a supportive smile and you realize that what they were saying was true.

You’ve been so stuck and stressing out on things and allowed them to pile up. In the end, it only harmed you rather than help you.

“If there was ever anything you needed help with, you have twelve pairs of hands who are willing to lend a hand.” Kahei nudged your shoulder with her own. “Thirteen heads are better than one, after all.” Jinsoul grinned and you couldn’t help but crack a smile when Haseul wiped the rest of your tears away.

“Now that we’ve settled this, can you please stop with the pills and talk to us instead?” She asked and, though you hesitated, you ended up nodding and agreeing to their request.

You didn’t want to depend on something that could potentially ruin both your health and career. Instead, you’ll learn to be a bit more dependent on your members instead.

138 notes · View notes

if-you-built-yourself-a-myth · 3 years

Text

Check Ignition: Sander Schmander

By popular request (*cough* everyone on ao3 and @art3misjade), here is Sander's perspective on events

This segment falls right before Chapter Four of Check Ignition

Sander Driesen was drunk. Honest-to-god, shitfaced drunk. And for the first time in forever, too—he’d laid off the stuff since his treatment plan made it difficult to handle, and since he wanted the meds to actually work. But tonight, he thought, I’ve earned this. Everyone else was drinking. It would be weird if he didn’t participate when his own boyfriend was halfway through his fifth cup of punch.

Fake boyfriend. That was a whole thing.

Now, he lay on the stairs leading upward to the boys’ dormitories. Hopefully those stairs. He didn’t make a habit of visiting the common rooms of other houses, and the layouts tended to differ from one another.

“Sorry,” he croaked to everyone who shimmied their way through. “My bad. Deepest apologies.”

This was why he needed Britt, he thought, to reign in this kind of impulse. Granted, she was the only one who knew about everything else thus far, but he wasn’t going to tell Robbe all that, not when it was already hard enough existing in a magical world with a mundane illness. He wanted to hold onto this last little dream.

Midnight was fast approaching and the bustle downstairs had yet to dispel. Sander tried to move his arms and found them unresponsive. Or rather, he could move them, but it required too much effort to be worth it. He slumped back. More people flooded up the stairs to sleep off whatever terrible concoction was in that punch bowl.

“Robbe has such stupid ideas, I swear,” said Moyo, cresting the staircase. Sander perked up at the sound of Robbe’s name. Probably Moyo. Sander struggled to think through the names of Robbe’s friends—he had them listed in his bedroom for continuity purposes.

He recognized Jens easily enough, because Jens was wherever Robbe was. And Sander watched Robbe a lot. Sander held his breath, as if being quiet could prevent them from seeing him sprawled across their path.

“Shut up,” Jens shot back.

The third boy with them—Alex? Adam?—pitched in, “It’s not Robbe’s fault you don’t get any.”

“He’s throwing away the chance of a lifetime.”

“Shut the fuck up. You sound like an incel.”

“But like, why do they kiss so much? It’s not like you have—” Moyo stopped short as he tripped over Sander’s leg. Despite their somewhat rational conversation, they weren’t any more sober than Sander himself. “Shit, speak of the devil.”

Jens leaned down to Sander’s eye level. “You alright?”

“Never better,” Sander slurred. It came out more like a groan.

Moyo approached to help Jens move Sander from the center of the stairs. They sat him up against the railing on his left side, which was not any more comfortable than the steps digging into his back. Jens was still in full Quidditch uniform (even the chest padding!), Moyo sported a Hufflepuff tie over a t-shirt and jeans, and Adam-or-whoever stood at a quiet distance in a pair of burgundy pajama pants and his Quidditch robes. Sander would have made note to write these in on his list—a good indicator of personality.

Too bad he didn’t have the sense to do so.

“Can’t handle your alcohol, huh?” Moyo asked. He didn’t seem very threatening, though the question was definitely a taunt. Sander’s brain felt like vanilla pudding. Moyo turned to the boys. “Should we wake Robbe?”

“Yes,” said Sander. Oh, hell yes. Robbe. He liked Robbe so much.

The story itself was long and antiquated, a love-at-first-sight kind of deal for Sander. He couldn’t think of one version where he wasn’t the bad guy. He went on a double-date with Britt and her friend, expecting one of Noor’s usual yuppies to show up and bore the whole table with pointless conversation. Then it was Robbe.

Do you ever just see someone, really see them, and—how could he phrase it—know? Or think you know. All things considered, it wasn’t the best sign in terms of his condition.

He had to walk all the way into the next town over to call his psychiatrist, only to realize there wasn’t much to tell her. Hey, I’m infatuated with this guy that my girlfriend’s friend is dating. What should I do? She’d give him some common-sense answer like, Break up with your girlfriend, which he didn’t want to do until he knew what he was feeling would last. So he said, These side effects are nasty, and she reevaluated his dose of Lexapro.

“Let the virgin sleep,” said Moyo.

Sander pitched forward to grab Moyo by the arm. “No, wake him up.”

Because the thing was, time passed, and the feelings didn’t fade. Britt could tell he wasn’t present anymore and said nothing. Maybe she thought it was the Depakote that his psychiatrist added to the cocktail when the antidepressant dangled him on the edge of hypomania. She was a good person. It really wasn’t fair when he told her it was over via owl, and it really wasn’t fair when he seized his opportunity to kiss Robbe in the astronomy tower. The argument in question was not so bad. He conflated it for an excuse to leave her.

“Where’s Robbe?” said Sander. “I have to see him.”

“He’s asleep, downstairs. We gave him a blanket and everything.” Jens passed over his own cup of water. “Drink this.”

“I have to see him,” Sander repeated.

“Yeah, you have to go to sleep. He’s going to be here tomorrow.”

“It won’t be the same tomorrow.”

The whole relationship wasn’t even meant to be a thing. It was a cheap kiss, really, in the astronomy tower. Sander just wanted to know what it would feel like, and he thought it might serve Robbe too, so he did it. Robbe’s appearance the next day was the most unexpected, thrilling twist he could have dreamed of. Except, in a dream, it wouldn’t be fake.

Robbe never missed a chance to restate that it was fake. That wasn’t the best sign, either.

“Aaron, don’t just stand there,” said Jens. “Help me out. Grab his arms, will you?”

“Aaron.” Sander tested out the name. “But you’re Adam!”

“How much have you had?” Aaron grabbed Sander’s arms and lifted. The boys got Sander up two stairs before deciding he was too heavy. They sat him back against the wall.

“Try again,” Jens instructed.

The second try went about as well as the first.

Jens crouched to Sander’s eye level. “Look, is there someone else we can get for you? Or are you cool with sleeping here?” He had to hold Sander’s shoulders in his hands to keep Sander from pitching forward and rolling all the way back downstairs.

“We can’t leave our friend’s boyfriend here!” said Aaron.

“Fake boyfriend,” Moyo added.

Sander groaned. Yes, remind him of that! It was fake! He knew it already! If his psychiatrist could see him now, she’d say—alright, she’d say that he wasn’t allowed to drink on his overly specific medication regimen. But if that weren’t a factor, she’d say some more common-sense things like, “Tell Robbe how you feel. Tell his friends, if you want.”

Fuck, he missed her. He could seek out the phone booth sometime this week and tell her all about it. She loved hearing from him.

“There’s no one,” he slurred. “I’m okay.”

“Fine, there’s us, then,” said Jens. He hefted one of Sander’s arms over his shoulder. “Moyo, take three.”

Moyo took the other arm. They dragged him up the rest of the way, bumping his head on every other stair. He felt like a snow globe in a tourist trap shop, all shaken up, no escape through the glass. Huh. Poetic. Where was Robbe?

“Wake up Robbe,” Sander requested. Jens and Moyo dropped him into the fourth bed in their room. Aaron, Jens, and Robbe lived here; Sander could deduce that from the eclectic assortment of things piled on every available surface. The blankets of the bed in which he lay were already rumpled, implying that someone else had slept here recently. He touched something sticky on the top sheet. Okay, maybe they didn’t sleep.

Jens looked back and forth between Moyo and Sander. “Why?” he asked.

There were plenty of replies Sander could give. We’re fake-dating, and I want it to be convincing.

We’re such good friends, and I want to tell him so.

I think he has my cell phone. Jens might not know what a cell phone was. Sander could never tell with those purebloods.

He and I have plans to smoke weed and throw rocks at pixies in the Forbidden Forest.

Sander said, “I misssssss him,” with the s pulled to the end of the world. Yeah, that would work, too.

“Um, okay,” said Jens. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Then he, Aaron, and Moyo started laughing, although Sander couldn’t tell just what they found so funny. Sander had an alarm on his cell phone to take his medication at eleven PM, since schedule was important to the efficacy of the active ingredients, or whatever it was his psychiatrist said when she adjusted his Lexapro to 15mg. It buzzed in his pocket, but he didn’t have the pills. He was too tired, anyway. It wouldn’t matter if he skipped a dose or two; he’d done worse things than that with lesser consequences.

“You’re going to get Robbe, right?” he asked, and in a moment of clarity, he realized he was a needy boyfriend. He wasn’t a fan of needy Britt. You either die the hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

Jens yanked the curtains shut across the fourth bed and bound them with a spell. “You’re drunk, go to sleep. We’ll get Robbe.” The boys began another fit of giggling.

It didn’t bother Sander at all. He stared at the arcing pillars that held up the bedcurtains and hummed a David Bowie song into the darkness. He was young and drunk and in love, and anything could happen. So what if Robbe thought their relationship was fake for now? In a matter of time, it would be real.

#sobbe fanfic #sobbe #sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #wtfock #requested fic #sander POV #fake dating #Hogwarts au

9 notes · View notes

theangriestpea · 4 years

Text

The Killing Type | Six

Summary: Just when Lavender thought things were going great with Sweet Pea, a new girl comes back to turn to turn their entire relationship upside down. Now they have to navigate a world of drug dealers, rival gangs, and co-parenting. Sequel to Mercy Killing. <masterlist><playlist>

Rating: Mature // Explicit

Pairings: Sweet Pea x OC // eventual Jughead Jones x OC

Warnings: Plan-b usage, mentions of abortion/pregnancy termination, mentions of cheating

Word Count: 5.0k+

A/N: It's finally here! There's not a whole lot of Sweet Pea in the chapter (only towards the end), sorry about that. But it was kind of necessary filler lol. I hope everyone enjoys!

Chapter Six : Two Hearts, Unstable

When Lavender awoke the next morning, Sweet Pea was absent from her bed. She assumed that he had gone to work on a job or check up on Daisy. While her being alone did hurt at first, she understood that he had other priorities he had to tend to too. She let out a groggy sigh as she rubbed the grains of sleep from her eyes. Did last night really happen? She found herself wondering and realizing that she was still naked hammered it in that it did.

Then the realization hit her and she was suddenly overcome with intense dread. They hadn’t used a condom, and while she didn’t keep detailed track of her period, it had been a few weeks since her last cycle meaning she was either ovulating or close to it. She wasn’t on birth control because it interacted with her antidepressants too much so her only options were condoms or the risky pull-out method.

She knew that she couldn’t handle a child right now, nor could Sweet Pea handle a second child. It was an easy decision to make, to go to the pharmacy and pick up a plan-b pill. The thought of going alone though made her incredibly nervous, especially after her run in with the Ghoulie last night.

At first she called Toni and Cheryl, but neither picked up. She really didn’t want to ask Jug or Fangs, because they’d probably tattle to Sweet Pea. Her only option then was...Lily.

Lavender swallowed hard as she got out of the shower and got dressed. She had no issues with Lily but she found their relationship rocky at best. They had had a little heart to heart last night, but before that then their conversations had often been argumentative in nature. Though, she figured if anyone would understand, then it would be Lily. Seeing as she herself had a child with Sweet Pea.

She figured just going over there would be better than calling, and for that she was thankful that it was a Saturday. Once she was finished getting ready, she made her way to Sweet Pea’s trailer. Luckily his bike wasn’t out front, so she assumed he was off with Fangs somewhere or working a job for Jughead.

With a little hesitation, she knocked on the front door despite still having a key. It felt weird going in there without knocking first now that it wasn’t just Sweet Pea (and occasionally his father, though that was a rarity). She heard a faint “in a second” before waiting a few minutes. Eventually the door opened to see an exasperated Lily with a giggling Daisy in her arms.

Lav smiled weakly, suddenly feeling incredibly embarrassed. “Can I ask you a favor? You don’t have to say yes but...if you do then I’ll buy you and Daze some lunch in return.”

Lily thanked god above that her stomach did not growl then and there. “Sure, what is it?” She asked, while before she hadn’t been too sure of Lav’s intentions with Sweet Pea, she knew now that the purple haired girl meant no harm. She was just as vulnerable as her ex was and they both pretended not to be simultaneously.

“I need to go get some plan-b.” She said, looking utterly embarrassed that she had gotten too caught up in the moment to make Sweet Pea wear a condom. She was sure Lily was going to lecture her about it, tell her that she was a total idiot. But, she was wrong. Lily just nodded and moved aside so Lav could come in.

“Can you hold her while I get ready?” Lily asked, not even missing a beat. “It’ll only take like ten minutes.” She passed the happy baby off to Lavender who sat down on the couch with her. She was unable to look at Lily directly, still feeling incredibly ashamed.

Almost exactly ten minutes later, Lily returned with her keys. “So, I take it you guys finally said it?” She asked, trying to lighten the mood. Lavender forced a smile as she stood up with Daisy still in her arms.

“Yeah, we did...and uh, I just got so caught up in the moment I forgot to make him wrap it up.” She said, nearly choking out the words.

Lily just laughed, knowing all too well how bad Sweet Pea was at wearing a condom. “Don’t worry about it too much, since it was just last night the plan-b should work fine. Do you need money? Jug might can get some for you if-”

Lav shook her head, “No, I’m fine. My dad left me a lot when he died. I just want to get it over with. I really don’t think any one of us could handle two baby snakes at this time.”

Though she wouldn’t say it, Lily was grateful that Lavender was doing the smart thing. She recalled when she went in for her abortion and was unable to carry through after hearing the heartbeat. While she loved her daughter more than anything in the entire world, she couldn’t deny that life would have been so much easier if she had simply taken a pill the day after risky sex. Though she was certain that cost would add up to be a small fortune very quickly.

The two teens went to Lily’s car. Lav placed Daisy in her car seat and strapped her in, making sure she was secure before getting into the passenger’s seat. Lily hopped in behind the wheel and started the car before driving to the nearest pharmacy on the southside, the only one she knew of that wouldn’t give them any trouble for asking for a pill. Any northside place would just lecture them and try to force them to have a parent buy it for them. That clearly wasn’t an option for either of them.

The car ride was relatively quiet. The only sounds were punk music from the radio and Daisy babbling in the back seat. Lav was unsure of what she should say, if she should say anything. “After, want to go to Pop’s?” She asked, “My treat for not making me go by myself.”

That time Lily’s stomach did growl. A sheepish look crossed her face, “Yeah, sure. That sounds great.” She parked the car and the two got out. Lily walked around and grabbed Daisy before going inside.

Once inside the tiny store, they walked through the convenience aisles to get to the back part where the actual pharmacy was. “I have to ask someone, don’t I?” She whispered to Lily. She had never done this before and wasn’t entirely sure how it would go.

“Yeah, the pharmacist will give it to you after telling you the side effects. Don’t worry, I can ask. I’m used to the judgmental looks people give me.” Lily said back, keeping her voice just as low. Lavender nodded, feeling even more grateful now.

Once at the counter, Lily told the pharmacy tech what they needed. The young man looked between Lily and Lav, wheels obviously turning in hi head about why teenagers would need an emergency contraceptive. Lav was biting her lip nervously, looking down at the counter while Lily just stared him head on, clearly not one to play games.

The tech nodded and went to get the pharmacist to help them. Lily nudged Lav with her elbow as a silent encouragement. Lav let out a shaky breath as an older woman came with the small box that she needed. She asked who it was for and Lily said it was for her, again the look on her face was daring the pharmacist to say anything negative to her. Daisy was giggling, clearly having no understanding of what was going on.

The woman simply nodded, not about to put up a fight with a couple of teenage gangbangers. Everyone knew who the Southside Serpents were in these parts. The top of Lav’s tattoo was visible over the upper edge of the tank top she was wearing. Lily was wearing her jacket and even Daisy at a tiny denim vest with the double headed snake. The top rocker said “baby” and bottom rocker said “serpent”. Jug had it custom made a week ago.

The pharmacist went over the risks and what would happen after taking the pill. She rang them up and Lav paid with her credit card. She put the package with the pill as well as an information pamphlet into a plastic bag and handed it to Lavender since Lily was carrying Daisy. “Have a good day, stay safe.” She said, not sounding judgmental in the slightest.

Lily thanked her before turning with Lav and walking out, her head held high and never looking down. Once outside Lav let out a huge breath of relief. “Thank you, I don’t know why I care so much about what other people think. Probably something to do with Reggie calling me a slut any chance he fucking gets.”

“You’re half Northsider, that’s why.” Lily said, somewhat jokingly. “All Northsiders care about what people think about them. That’s just how they are. I doubt it’ll always be that way for you. Just give Sweet Pea a little more time to corrupt you.”

Lav made a face as she opened the back door for Lily so that she could put Daisy in the car seat. “How long until I’ll be known as just a Southsider?” She asked, a little irritated.

“However long it takes for your bank account to lose a few zeroes.” Lily replied playfully. “Why does it matter so much to you anyway?”

She sighed, “Because as of now I don’t fit it anywhere. Not with the Northsiders, not with the Southsiders, and not with the gang. No one will give me a chance. Jughead thinks I still need more time, but I’m ready! I can do jobs just like everyone else! I’m tired of being looked at like some dumb, fragile princess that can’t do anything for herself. Christ, I get enough of that from Sweet Pea alone. I don’t need it from everyone else.”

Lily smiled as they both got into the car. “I’ll ask Jug to let you come with me on some of my next jobs. As training. That way you’ll be contributing. How does that sound?”

Lav was quiet for a few moments as she drove them to Pop’s. She was grateful for all that Lily had done in the span of half an hour. “That sounds good...Thanks.”

“Cheer up! You finally got laid last night!” Lily said, laughing, “And you two finally admitted your feelings! Please promise me that it's not a one time thing or I will lock you both in a closet until it's not.”

“He said it first.” Lavender said, cheering up instantly at the memory. “And of course I said it back. It was perfect….even if it was a struggle to get out.”

Lily shook her head, “it’ll get easier. Or I think it does. It seems to, from what I’ve seen at least. Whenever Sweet Pea and I said it to one another it was more like...platonic love. Not romantic love. Does that make sense?”

Lav nodded her head, unsure of what exactly to say. She figured it was the same in how she told Fangs, Toni, or even Jughead that she loved them. She wasn’t saying she was in love. Just that she cared for them all deeply. It finally seemed to click in her head that that’s how Sweet Pea and Lily were.

A few minutes later, after crossing the railroad tracks, Lily pulled into Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe. They got out, Lav grabbing Daisy this time, and went inside. There weren’t very many others there; an elderly couple in one booth and a businessman at the bar, that was it. It was a little odd considering it was a Saturday, but it was whatever.

Lily chose a booth at the end of the row where they could be as far away from the few other customers as possible. Lav handed Daisy to her and sat down. A moment later a waitress came over and took their drink orders while Lav looked over the menu. She was still chewing on her lip nervously, the pill in her pocket waiting to be taken. She knew that the side effects were going to mimic a period and she just wasn’t in the mood for that at the moment, not with how painful hers had been the past few months.

“You should take it as soon as possible.” Lily said, in a tone that was almost motherly. Lav sighed with frustration and nodded.

“I’m just waiting on my milkshake. I don’t do well with pills unless I have something to wash it down..” She muttered.

Lily reached out and put a hand over hers, “it’ll be okay. If for some reason it doesn’t work, then we’ll figure it out. But, I don’t think you should be thinking about the worst case scenario right now.”

Lav shook her head, “I know. It’s just hard not to. Just the thought of getting pregnant makes me want to throw up.”

Lily couldn’t help but laugh, though she was sympathetic. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s rough going to high school and being knocked up. I don’t know how I survived it some days…but she was worth it. Even if I am exhausted all the time.”

“You’re a lot stronger than I am.” Lav admitted. “I couldn’t even take going back to school after my attack. Everyone was talking about me, whispering behind my back, all the rumors that flew around about what happened. And spoiler alert, in none of those rumors was I a victim. I was a willing participant. I swear the bulldogs try to remind me of it every chance they get. I lost count how many times Sweet Pea had to go up to bat for me. The first few weeks were the worst. No one really talks about it now unless they’re trying to get under my skin.”

The waitress came back with their milkshakes and took their food orders before flitting away again. Lily was looking at Lav with a serious expression. “I wouldn’t say I’m stronger than you, Lavie. You went through hell and back. You went through something a lot worse than a teenage pregnancy. Don’t discredit yourself.”

Desperately wanting to change the subject, Lav looked up at Lily, “I know about you and Jughead.” She said plainly, nearly giving Lily whiplash in the process.

“W-What?” Lily sputtered, not entirely sure what exactly she was talking about. “What do you-”

“You’ve had sex before.” Lav clarified after taking a long swig of her strawberry chocolate shake. “He took your virginity, right? Or at least, that’s what he told me.”

“He told you that?!” Lily snapped, heart racing with a panic. “It was supposed to be a secret!”

Lav smiled at her, “it is. He was just really drunk the other night and I pulled it out of him. I asked him what was going on between you two and he just emotionally vomited all over me. It was kinda cute.”

Lily was quiet, taking a deep breath. “That was before Sweet Pea and I were together….Sweet Pea thinks he took it. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I had slept with Jug. They practically hated each other back then.”

“I think it’s hilarious.” Lav said with a gentle smile. “I had a good laugh at least. Jughead really cares about you. He always has, I think. He and Betty were never quite right. I think she was just convenient. I was glad when they broke up. Let Archie and her bang it out or whatever. Jug didn’t need to be hurt by her over and over again. Especially when he caught her cheating.”

She frowned at Lav babbled on, “Betty cheated on him?”

Lav paused and nodded, “Yeah, he caught her and Archie kissing one day. He was a wreck. I think that’s why he ultimately called it quits with her. Thank god too, he didn’t deserve that bullshit.”

“He never said anything to me about that.” Lily mumbled, “he would only say that it was a mutual decision between the two of them.”

Lav scoffed, “no way. Betty wants her cake and to eat it too. Cake being Jughead’s heart in this case. She’d do anything to manipulate him back into her life. God, I can’t believe he actually let her play serpent queen! Thank god no one actually took her seriously as a Serpent. Can you imagine? I’m more of a serpent than some Northside barbie.”

Lily tried not to giggle, seeing as Lav was pretty much a barbie in her own right. Clearly it wasn’t the right time to point that out. If Betty and Veronica were the dolls of the Northside, then Lav was definitely the pin up girl of the Southside. Though she would viciously deny it any time someone pointed it out.

The only difference between them and her, was that Lav actually used her money to do a lot of good for the Serpents. Jug had told her about how much she had donated to the gang’s projects or to Serpents who needed the extra financial help. Apparently her father left her more than she was willing to talk about. She wouldn’t even take credit for it, making Jug swear to secrecy every time.

“Hopefully he won’t give her another chance.” Lily said as Lav eyed her suspiciously.

“You have a thing for him still, don’t you?” Lav asked, hoping that Lily would spill her heart out. By the red tint Lily’s face suddenly took on, Lav knew she was right.

“Jughead doesn’t want a teen mom, Lav. There’s no point.” Lily said as their food came.

Lav took a fry and dipped it into her milkshake before eating it. Lily gave some fries to Daisy who began to happily gnaw on them. “I think you should let Jug make that decision instead of making it for him.” Lav said finally after swallowing the food she had put into her mouth. “It’s not fair to just assume he won’t.”

“Are you of all people giving me relationship advice?” Lily asked, though she was clearly joking. The other girl took no offense and instead rolled her eyes back at her. “Take your pill.”

“Oh, right…” Lav reached into her pocket and popped the white pill out of the plastic packaging. She placed it on her tongue before taking a large gulp of milkshake to get it down. “How long until it kicks in and I ruin my underwear?”

“I’d give in thirty minutes. Do you need a pad or anything?” Lily asked.

Lav shook her head, “No, I put one on before I left just in case. I should be fine. I just hope I’m not in too much pain.”

“Well, if you are, then I’ll make Sweet Pea take care of you. Hopefully I won’t need to work tonight.” Lily said.

A comfortable silence fell as they both ate their food, the only sound was Daisy babbling every once in a while in Lily’s lap. Once they were done, Lav paid the bill and left a tip before getting up. It had only been about twenty minutes or so, so she wasn’t feeling anything yet. “I better get home before the cramping starts. I have a feeling I’m not going to hold out much longer.”

Lily smiled, secretly grateful Lav didn’t bring up her drug dealing for the time being. She really didn’t want to talk about it right now anyway. Not when they were in such a public setting. “Let’s get you home then.”

“Thanks for coming with me.” Lav said softly, “And for not being upset…”

“I know Sweet Pea is a total idiot and hates condoms. If he truly cares about someone then he will conveniently forget that condoms even exist. I swear he only wears them for one night stands.” Lily grumbled. “He’s such a dumbass sometimes.”

“All boys are, honestly.” Lav said with a small snort. “I was too caught up in the moment to make him.”

Lily offered her a smile, “it’ll be okay, try not to stress over it too much.”

Lav nodded as she got into the car after helping Lily put Daisy in the car seat. They drove back to the southside where Lily dropped Lavender off outside of her trailer. Lav waved goodbye, already feeling the slight twinge of pain in her lower abdomen, before retreating back into the safety of the inside.

A few hours later, Lavender was curled up into a tight ball on the couch clutching her stomach. When Sweet Pea walked in, he hadn’t expected to find her there. Actually, he thought she’d be at the Wyrm with Toni, Cheryl, and Fangs.

“Babe?” He asked as he realized he hadn’t talked to her at all that day. It wasn’t that odd as sometimes they were both busy with either school or side jobs. Luckily Lavender wasn’t the type to freak out when he didn’t text back right away. She trusted him, though he would admit that he didn’t necessarily deserve it given his track record.

“Pea,” She whined pathetically, “can you get me my heating pad?”

A confused look crossed his face as he went to the closet to get it. “Your period? I thought we had another two weeks.” The fact that he knew that was a little endearing, though she was in too much pain to really appreciate it.

“I had to take a plan-b pill just in case. We didn’t use a condom last night and I feel like I’m dying.” She said back with a dramatic groan. Sweet Pea plugged in the heating pad she typically only used when her cramps were really bad and handed it to her. She uncurled enough to press it into her abdomen before curling back up.

The events of last night flashed before his mind and he remembered not bothering to put on a condom, “oh...yeah, sorry. I guess we got carried away.”

She smiled softly, although it was clearly pained. “This is your fault.”

He brushed her hair back before kissing her forehead, “what can I do to make it feel better?”

“Never forget to wrap it up ever again.” She said, mostly joking. “Just sit with me.”

He nodded, “let me go get cleaned up first, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Lavender waited as he went into her bedroom and changed into a pair of gym shorts and tank top. He wiped some of the dirt off his face and hands with a warm washcloth before hanging it up and coming back into the living room.

“Sit up,” He instructed gently as she did her best to sit up so he could sit down. Once he was situated, she laid back down with her hand on his lap.

Sweet Pea began to play with her hair as he cut on the TV to find something for them to watch together. Though he already knew what she wanted to watch. Anytime she didn’t feel well, she always had him put on her favorite movie. She was pretty predictable sometimes.

He cut on Jim Henson’s The Labyrinth before settling back down into the couch cushions. Lavender let out a small content sigh, still holding the heating pad tightly to her abdomen. It was finally warmed up enough to help relieve some of her pain.

“I’m sorry, I know you hate this movie.” She mumbled as she watched the screen. Sweet Pea let out a soft chuckle, because he did in fact find the movie really creepy and somewhat disturbing. But, if watching it made her happy then he’d sit through it a million times or more.

“It’s fine.” He said, brush her hair back as he began to play with it mindlessly. “I don’t care if it makes you feel better.”

Lav smiled softly and in turn, made Sweet Pea smile as well. He wasn’t watching the movie anyway, he was too captivated by her instead. She was much more fun to watch anyway. “I love you.” She said airily, not taking her eyes off of Bowie on the screen. It seemed so much easier to say it now that they weren’t at odds with each other.

Sweet Pea stiffened against the couch for a moment, the feeling of her saying it without prompting made him feel uncomfortably warm. He still wasn’t used to this whole love thing. It didn’t make much sense to him. He had thought he had been in love with Lily after all, but it wasn’t at all like how he felt with Lavender. He just wished he understood it more.

“I love you too, princess.” He said, almost inaudibly as a blush crept up his neck and to his ears, setting them on fire. He wished he could take her into the bedroom and prove it all over again, but he knew she was in much too much pain for that.

They sat in silence, Lavender drifting in and out of sleep in his lap as he scrolled through his phone with his free hand. He had messaged Lily telling her that Lav wasn’t feeling well so he would probably be spending the night again over here. He was surprised when she responded that it was okay. He half expected her to harangue him for not helping out with Daisy for two days in a row.

A few minutes later she sent him another text, saying she may need to work tonight so she would bring Daisy over in a few hours. Sweet Pea sighed, unsure how he would be able to take care of both of his girls at the same time. Maybe Lav would be feeling better by then? He doubted it. She seemed pretty miserable. Normally she didn’t take naps like this unless she was really sick. He had only seen her do it once before when she had the flu. That had been miserable for both of them as anytime she threw up, he would join her.

Hopefully she’d be able to rest without his full attention. He did feel bad that he had to divide his time between her and Daisy, but it really couldn’t be helped. He was just thankful that she had been so accepting of his daughter after the initial rough patch between her and Lily.

Lavender woke back up when he shifted his legs. He mumbled an apology before stroking her hair again to coax her back to sleep. “Daisy is coming over later.” He warned her. “I guess Lily has to go sell some more drugs or whatever. I don’t see why Jones hasn’t punished her yet. It’s ridiculous. Anyone else would be kicked out on their ass.”

“Pea, why do you want Lily kicked so badly?” Lav asked, trying not to get too aggravated with him, “She told me she doesn’t have a choice. Did you even try to talk to her about it without accusing her of something?”

He made a disgruntled face down at her. “What? No, I was busy today and you needed me last night. Jones knows now though and he didn’t do anything.”

Lavender turned onto her back so she could look up to him, “You’re so dense. Jughead is totally in love with Lily, that’s why he can’t do it.”

“What?! No he’s not!” Sweet Pea snapped, somehow feeling offended that his girlfriend would even suggest such a thing. “Why would you say that?” \

“Juggie is one of my best friends, Pea. I know when he has a crush on someone. The way he looks at her and the way he talks about her to me. I mean, it’s obvious. Plus they have a history.” Lavender said, hoping he wouldn’t try to argue with her when she felt like shit.

His face seemed to fall a little and she didn’t understand why he was so upset. Him and Lily hadn’t been together in a long time, not really. Lily wouldn’t even take him back a few weeks ago. “They have a history? When?”

“That’s not really my place to tell you, Pea.” She said, hoping he’d understand. “I don’t understand why you care? You’re not with Lily anymore. You’re with me.” She reminded him, her annoyance showing this time.

Sweet Pea just huffed, “I know that, brat. You brought it up, I don’t see why you can’t tell me. Did she cheat on me with him or something? After all the time she spent lecturing me about-”

“No, it was before you.” Lavender quickly corrected. “Lily never cheated on you to my knowledge.”

Now he really was hurt. Lily was his best friend and she had never told him. He felt betrayed, left out, and lied to. It had nothing to do with their past romantic relationship. It was strictly their platonic one that felt threatened. Lav could tell by the look on his face that he was upset. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands. “Hey, calm down. She didn’t tell me either, I just found out through Jug. Don’t make me say it.”

His face screwed up into disgust, “don’t say it.”

“I’m going to if you don’t smile.” She threatened and he rolled his eyes.

“Sweet Pea” She said sternly but he was pouting now.

Lav sat up and turned to face him, “come on, let’s get some cheer-up for your pancakes.”

He groaned loudly at the stupid pun she told him every time he was down about something. It drove him crazy because it always did make him smile, despite wanting to do anything but. He couldn’t stop the tiniest of laughs that came from him. “I hate you.”

“You love me, now make me some food. I’m hungry.” She flashed him a set of large hazel eyes full of hope that he’d cook for her. A look he could not resist in a million years.

He stood up from the couch and shook his head. “Fine, if I don’t you’ll just eat junk anyway. I swear you’re such a child.”

“I am not!”

Tag List: @the-gargoyle-queen, @alexa-playafricabytoto, just ask to join Enjoy my work? Like, Reblog, Follow, or Leave a Tip on my ko-fi (link now on blog description)! All works are cross-posted to ao3.

#sweet pea #sweet pea x oc #riverdale #jughead jones #jughead jones x oc #sweet pea fanfiction #riverdale fanfiction #jughead jones fanfiction #sweet pea fanfic #jughead jones fanfic #jughead fanfic #jordan connor #thekillingtype #purpura serpenta #lavender rhodes #lily owens #swavie #lughead #riverdale oc

31 notes · View notes

chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 59

Warnings: Profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @ocfairygodmother

A hot shower and a three hour nap -aided by a mixture of antidepressants, anxiety meds, and pain killers washed down by three shots of tequila- has done Tyler a world of good. Waking up feeling energized; still riding the high of the morning’s adrenaline rush and relatively pain free. Nothing more than a dull throb in the deepest part of the shoulder; some discomfort and audible cracking and popping when he stretches and manipulates it. But it’s bearable, unlike the agony that’s been a near constant fixture in his life for the past couple of years. While the initial replacement surgery and rehab had both been complete successes, a full recovery had eluded him. It had been his own fault, of course; the surgeon’s orders had been to alter his lifestyle and to avoid the very ‘activity’ that had caused so much damage in the first place. That ‘advice’ had lasted all of four months, until Nik had called, desperately needing his help and he’d been unable to resist both the lure of the game and the promise of damn good money.

He’d attempted to walk away several times in as many years, fully intending to commit himself to being a family man with his own little side business. Content with the motions of being the one to stay home with the kids while his wife either went back to school or found a new career she’d be happy with. But sometimes the best laid plans don’t work out. Not long after an early term miscarriage when the twins were two and a half, she’d gotten pregnant with Declan DESPITE being on birth control and coming to a mutual decision to wait until both Millie and the twins were in school full time before once again trying to add to their family. It had been completely unexpected, and off of their previous plans regarding their home life quickly went by the wayside. The job was easy money; he was confident in his skills and his abilities and Nik had promised to offer only the easiest of gigs.

That changed quickly. What should have been an ‘in and out’ assassination of a key political figure in El Salvador turning into a four day shit show that had him falling into dangerous enemy territory and almost needing to be extracted himself. After that, he’d said ‘fuck it’ and began taking whatever Nik brought to the table. And his physical health began to pay the price.

He orders a meal from room service and cracks open the bottle of whisky in the mini bar. He’s stuck to his word; staying sober while actually ON the job and not ever indulging during his downtime. Unlike the old days, he’s able to both pace himself AND stop after just a couple. A far cry from the guy who’d polish off an entire bottle and would be either too hung over to get up with his kids in the morning, or already passed out in the early evening; missing school events and extra curricular activities that he’d promised he’d attend. He refuses to be that guy again; the one who’d almost single handedly ruined his marriage because he put the bottle and the pain meds at the top of his priority list; allowing his addictions to take precedence over his family. The one who’d rightfully had his ass kicked out and then spent the next six months in a drunken stupor.

Never again. Never again will he be ‘that guy’. The absolute failure as a husband and a father. He can control it now; no longer needing to silence the inner demons or lessen the emotional suffering by getting. The want not nearly as powerful. Before it had been a way of life; no day complete without at least the smallest buzz. Now it’s a matter of convenience. Even enjoyment. A feeling of satisfaction and relief when the whisky finally hits the tongue and he experiences the initial burn in the back of his throat. After that, one drink doesn’t make him crave more. Instead satisfying his palate with bottle water and Gatorade and terrible coffee made in the hotel provided maker.

He’s lounging in the middle of the bed in a pair of boxer briefs when Koen finally returns. Back resting against the headboard and his legs stretched out; laptop resting on his thighs and a plate of food in his hands. And he only gives a brief glance towards the door when Koen stomps in and allows it to slam shut behind him. Offering no greeting, calmly and casually eating from the enormous serving of goat curry and naan bread, eyes never leaving the video playing on the computer; his three oldest on the plane, reading HIM a story and every so often having mispronounced words gently and lovingly corrected by their mother. And the grin that plays on his lips is double fold; pride and love for those beautiful and intelligent little human beings he’d had a hand in creating, and amusement at Koen’s mutters and complaints and strings of profanity.

“Look at you,” his friend grumbles. “All fucking relaxed and shit. Cocky, shit eating grin on your face.”

Tyler’s attention never leaves the laptop. A different video this time; Addie giving a real, genuine smile when she has her chin tickled. That one brings the prick of tears to his eyes. She’s still so tiny and so fragile, but she is...in fact...growing up.

“Why do you swear all the time?” He finally asks. “Makes you sound stupid. Find another fucking adjective.”

Koen smirks. “Well aren’t you just the clever one. Leave it to your brain damaged ass to remember THAT.”

“It’s my short term memory that’s fucked. Although I do remember threatening to throw your ass off the balcony. Keep calling me stupid or brain damaged, and it’ll happen.”

“Don’t be so goddamn sensitive. What’cha watching?”

“Just some videos Esme sent me. Of the kids. I’ve got two five year olds and a six year old that can read better than I can. How’d the fuck that ever happen?”

“Well their momma’s pretty damn smart. Maybe just be thankful their brains at least took after her.”

Tyler frowns, then flips Koen the middle finger. “I meant that they’re practically babies still and they can read like they’re a lot older. They’re so smart. So fucking smart.”

“Definitely gonna be trouble makers when they’re older. Imagine them as teenagers? Especially Millie? With that mouth of hers?”

“That mouth of hers is going to keep trouble AWAY from her. She says what she wants; fuck anyone’s feelings. Someone gets mouthy with her when she’s older, she’ll put them in their place. And if her own mouth doesn’t do it, her right hook will. She's a savage that kid.”

“Best of both mom and dad if you ask me. And look at you just kicking back. Acting like you didn’t just butcher two people this morning.”

Tyler shrugs. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for them?”

“Just thought maybe you’d be a little more...I don’t know...grumpy.”

“Why would I? They got what was coming to them. And they deserved a lot worse. You think that was brutal? Wait until I have more time and more space.”

“You’re starting to scare me a bit, mate. You’re enjoying this a little too much, I reckon.”

“Well if it was your family being threatened, you’d enjoy it too. You know what kind of things they would have done to my wife and kids? What I did is tame compared to what they had planned. I’ve heard the threats; you haven’t. It’s nightmare inducing shit. Let’s leave it at that.”

“That why you been freaking out in your sleep? Waking up barely able to breathe and shit? Scared the crap out of me the first couple of times.”

“It’s fucking with my head a bit,” Tyler admits. “Kind of hard not to let it mess with you. Trust me when I say that what I read? What was said about Esme? About the kids? I don’t wish any of it on my worst enemy.” It makes bile rise in his throat just thinking about it and he places the laptop on the bed and reaches for the bottle of Gatorade sitting on the nightstand. Downing half in order to rid himself of the bitterness and the burn. “Heard you guys had a bit of trouble.”

Koen scowls, pausing in the middle of taking off his gear. “Don’t get all cocky again, young man.”

“Not getting cocky. Just repeating what I heard. Didn’t you guys leave the same time I did?”

“Your point?”

“No point.” A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. “Just making an observation. I mean, I was alone and had to take out two people. By myself. Took me twenty minutes. And that includes me getting there AND back. You know all the shit I’ve done since then?”

“Nope. But I bet you’re gonna tell me, aren’t ya.”

“Took a shower, ate, slept for three hours. Now I’m eating again. And you’re getting back. Just now. It’s almost six. In the evening.”

“You’ve kept yourself busy. You jerk off sometime in there too?”

“Twice, actually.”

“Your lazy ass could have handled some more work. Instead you’ve been here slacking.”

“I’d done my bit for the day. Next time be faster.”

“Easy for you to say,” Koen scoffs. “Mister ‘I have all the experience’. You now, we could have used your help out there.”

“Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t hear that. Can you repeat it?”

“Don’t be a little prick."

“I swear you just said that you could have used MY help. I swear you just said that.”

“You’re asking for an ass kicking, you know that?”

“Funny how you wanted my help when this morning you were acting I like I didn’t know what the fuck In was doing. It’s almost like...I don’t know...like you’re actually admitting you were wrong.”

“I ain’t admitting shit. Just saying we could have used your help.”

“Why? Apparently I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I am five seconds away from punching you in the face,” Koen growls. “And your wife won’t be too happy if I mess that face up. So…”

“Just swallow your pride and admit you’re wrong, mate. That you shouldn’t have underestimated me. Get it off your chest. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Make you feel better, you mean. I’d rather stroke your cock than your ego.”

“Well you’re definitely never getting anywhere near my cock so it’s my ego or nothing.”

“Fine,” Koen sighs heavily. “I underestimated you. I will never again second guess your skills or your abilities. But I still think you’re a brain damaged fuck.”

“I’ll take it,” Tyler says, then sits the now empty plate and Gatorade bottle on the nightstand and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. “How did it go in the end?” he asks, groaning and grimacing as he stands. Forty starting to feel like it’s closer to death, never mind middle age.

“They’re dead. So it ended on a good note. Put up a hell of a fight. Rata took an elbow to the face and went crazy. Beat the guy to death. You would have been impressed. I think he’s a natural.”

“And you?”

“I prefer the simple things in life. Pull a trigger and it’s done. I’ll leave the more hands on, gruesome shit for you two. Gotta date or something?”

“Going to the airport.” He slips into a pair of jeans and a simple black t-shirt. “Going to see my wife and kids.”

“Think that’s a good idea?”

Tyler sighs in exasperation. “Don’t fucking start this shit again.”

“Just if anyone is following you and you lead them right to your family…”

“Anil gave me the okay. Said he’s got tons of guys keeping their eyes on things. Yaz is sending a couple of people with me. So fuck off with this overprotective bullshit.”

“Now you know how your wife feels.”

“I have a reason to worry about her. A LOT of reasons. Damn good ones too. If you’re going to ride my ass so hard, at least pull my fucking hair.”

Koen smirks. “You’re into that kinda shit, aren’t ya. I knew it. Always knew you were a freak.”

“As much as I’d like to stay here and discuss my sex life with you, I’ve got better things to do.” He attaches his holster to his right hip, gathers up his wallet and hotel key card and both phones.

“You better not come back here with that ‘’just got fucked’ grin on your face,” Koen warns. “Because I will beat your ass.”

“You’ll be too busy beating something else.” Tyler retorts, right hand mimicking jerking off. Chuckling when Koen throws a shoe at him when he steps out the door.

****

It’s only a fifteen minute drive to the airport and he already knows everything there is to know about the young tech that Yaz has recruited to ‘escort’ him. It’s annoying enough not to be able to something as simple as driving, but to have to stuck with someone that is overly chatty and friendly is nothing short of torture. He’s never been a social creature; unlike his wife who makes friends easily and never shies away from making conversation with just about anyone, including strangers in the grocery store or out on the street. She’d been the first...and only...chatty person that hasn’t gotten on his nerves.

Her name is Riya and she’s twenty one; last of eight kids, her mother and father both extremely successful and wealthy business people in Dubai. The so-called ‘black sheep’ of the family; all but disowned when she’d decided to attend an American university -Georgetown- and make her home there. Even if he HAD have been talker, he wouldn’t have had the chance to offer up much commentary; her mouth running a mile a minute as she nervously and awkwardly spills even the smallest details of her life.

He doesn’t have the heart to tell her to stop her. The old Tyler...the one that existed only six short years ago...would have already snapped and told her to shut the fuck up. But who he is now...the man he is...is different in so many ways. Far more patient. Considerate. Empathetic, even. And the father of a little girl that is the very definition of a chatterbox. Who’s bright eyed and bubbly and talkative from the time she opens her eyes in the morning until the moment she closes them at night. And he wouldn’t want some asshole speaking to his own daughter like that, so why would he?

“How long HAVE you been married for?” Riya asks, and he can hear Esme’s voice in his head; reminding him that not everyone is out to get him. That their curiosity is often just that. They’re genuinely interested in him and want to be his friend.

“Six and a half years.” Sometimes it doesn’t feel nearly that long. Other times, considering all of the bad shit they’ve been through and the time they didn’t think they’d make it. It seems a hell of a lot longer.

“And five kids, right? In only six and a half years?”

“We’ve really been together for seven. Well, almost seven. But yeah. Five kids.”

“They must be really close together.”

“First three are. My daughter is six, the boys are five.”

“Twins? Identical or…?”

“Fraternal. Millie...my daughter...was only two months when we found out they were on their way. They were kind of a surprise, needless to say. We have another boy after them; he’ll be two in a few months. And we have a baby girl. Almost eight weeks.”

“Just a little one.”

Tyler nods. “Very little. Very tiny. My wife is, too, Small. But feisty as hell. And tough. Toughest and strongest person I know.”

“Yaz said you met on the job.”

“Yeah, we got sent out on the same gig, To Bangladesh. Actually had to pretend we were married.”

Riya laughs. “Really?”

“First time I ever got mixed up in something like THAT. It’s a long story, but in the end, my fake wife ended up becoming my real wife.” He doesn’t feel the need to fill in the gaps between beginning and end; Dhaka and what happened there has never been kept off the radar. Word travels fast in the dame, and every single details has been made available; everything from Mahajan fucking him over to Gaspar’s betrayal to his near death experience.

“Probably the best ending to a job you’ve ever had,” Riya comments.

“Took me nearly dying and her sticking her fingers in my neck to keep me alive, but yeah, in the end things turned out pretty damn good. What about you? You got a family? Other than the ones that don’t speak to you?”

“Nope. It’s just me. It’s hard finding someone that understands this kind of life. Who won’t judge you for it. And the people you meet through this life aren’t exactly the settling down types. As much as I want to believe I’ll meet someone, I probably should just prepare myself to be alone for the long haul.”

“There’s gotta be someone out there. Either in the game or someone who won’t be bothered by it.”

Fuck. He’s starting to sound like his wife. Years spent listening to her reason with her little sister over the phone that there has to be a guy -or girl- out there that would be into her; a full time student with five cats and a host of mental health issues and an extremely toxic family. Or hearing her talk Ovi through his personal issues; always chasing the wrong girl and left brokenhearted in the end. Normally he just stays out if; offering shrugs of the shoulders or a simple nod or a head shake when Esme attempts to get him involved.

“Maybe there is,” Riya sighs. “Do you have any single friends?”

“My single friends are single for a reason. And I’m a lot older than you and they would be too. So…”

“What about Ovi? He’s your friend. He’s young. Is he single?”

“He’s actually more my son than my friend”

“Son?” Her brow furrows in confusion. “How…?”

“Another long story. We ended up taking in him, giving him a proper home, a family. But yeah. He’s single.”

“Do you think maybe you could…?”

Tyler laughs. “Yeah...no. Just no. I’m not trying to be a dick about it, but I don’t get involved with this kind of thing. That, and I’ve got some pretty serious shit I’m dealing with and it’s definitely NOT the time even if I WAS the kind that would help. I mean, my wife likes to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong. You could always ask her to talk to him or whatever. I’m not who you want. Trust me.”

“Do you think she would? Put in a good word for me?”

“I guess,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Look, I’m not the sociable type. So I don’t mean to come across as an asshole, but…”

“You’re honest,” she says. “I heard that about you. That you don’t say much, but you mean what you say and don’t pull any punches.”

“I can be a little harsh,” Tyler admits. “So I’ve been told, anyway. I’ve bet you heard a lot of things about me.”

She nods.

“Probably not a lot of good things.”

“More good than bad. But the bad is pretty...well...bad. I don’t know; you don’t seem that awful to me. I mean, how awful can someone be when they have a wife and five kids? No woman would stick around long enough to have one kid, never mind that many.”

“Never thought of it that way. I’m not an easy person to live with. I’ve put her through a lot. But maybe I’m not as terrible as I think I am.”

“I don’t think she’d still be around if you were. If she’s as tough and strong as you say she is, she would have hauled ass a long time ago.”

****

He’s still thinking of those words when they arrive at the airport; pulling right onto the tarmac behind the smaller hangar he’d flowed into only two days before. It feels like a lifetime has passed since then. Since he’s stood in front of his home, kissing and hugging his wife and kids goodbye and wondering if he’d ever see them again. With how successful the morning had been, he wants to be more confident in regards to the eventual outcome. But he knows how things work; each kill will get harder and messier and more complicated. Mahajan will clue into his involvement and up the stakes even more. One good day doesn’t mean you can let your guard down. Not in the slightest.

Riya waits in the car, but both drivers and passengers of the three vehicles that had followed them climb out. Staggering themselves along the tarmac, eyes surveying the surroundings; bullet proof vests under their clothing, weapons at the ready. The jet’s already arrived and the stairs being placed in front of the open door when he crosses the distances between it and the car; less than ten feet away when the first little body appears. Millie with her ever present messy hair and those Spiderman sandals; an Incredible Hulk t-shirt paired with a frilly -and glittery- pink and purple tutu over a pair of camo leggings. Her head down at first and a slight frown on her face; shrugging a unicorn and sloth themed backpack onto her shoulders and one foot tentatively checking the strength and support of the stairs in front of her. And when she finally does glance up, the look is one of shock at first. Her brow furrowed and those huge blue eyes wide and disbelieving. Then quickly widening and sparkling when realization sets in; a brilliant smile spreading across her face.

“Daddy!” She shrieks, and immediately forgets about her discomfort on the stairs, rushing down them and leaping from the second last one; not even stumbling or missing a single stride. “Daddy!”

Tyler catches her as she throws herself at him, effortlessly scooping her up into his arms. Feeling those little arms immediately circle his neck, squeezing as tight as they can and how soft her cheeks and her forehead are against his lips and how impossibly light she seems.

“You said we wouldn’t see you for a few days!” Her tone has a slight scolding quality to it.

“I thought I’d surprise you guys. I got things finished nice and early so I could come and say hi. I missed you,” he lays a hand on the back of her head and presses a kiss to her temple and then her brow. “I missed you so much.”

“I miss you too. This is the best surprise EVER.”

“Even better than getting Saju as a late birthday gift?”

"I love Saju, but I love you more. You’re my daddy. And I was worried about you. About the bad guys getting a hold of you.”

“The bad guys don’t stand against me. You know that.”

“Daddy!” TJ hollers, and soon both he and his brother -and two dogs- are racing towards him. And with Millie still on his hip, he drops down to one knee, laughing when the force of those of those small bodies - and all of the power and excitement and love inside of them- knock him off balance and he finds himself on his ass on the damp, cold tarmac. Gathering all three kids into his arms and pulling them tightly into him.

“I knew you could do it,” Tanner’s face is buried in the side of his neck, tears hot against his skin. “I knew you could beat up the bad guys and still come and see us! I missed you. I missed you so much.”

“I’ve only been gone two days, mate.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s only two hours. I still missed you.”

“I missed you too. I missed ALL of you.”

He presses his lips to each forehead, returns each tight, fierce hug. Still sitting on the ground as he listens to all three speak at once’ excited tales about what they’d done on the plane and the movies they’d watched and the naps they’d taken and the food they’d eaten, Millie showing off her matching bracelet. And she moves out of the way when Delcan arrives; a beaming smile on his face and a ‘miss daddy’ in his tiny voice before throwing his arms around Tyler’s neck. And he runs his fingers through his son’s silky red hair and showers his cheeks with kisses and holds him as tight as Declan will let him. And even now he’s not sure he deserves all of this. The adoration and the unconditional love and their blind faith and trust in him.

“Good to see ya,” Kyle says in greeting, placing Addie -in her car seat carrier- on the ground beside him, then offering a hand to help Tyler to his feet and giving him a one armed hug. “Especially in one piece. Heard today was the day. Must have went okay. You’re standing here.”

“Went better than I thought it would. I’ll take a good start over a bad one any day.” He drops to a knee once more, smiling at his baby girl as he unfastens the straps of the carrier. “Hey sweet pea...hey little peanut…” he scoops that tiny body into his arms, settling her against his chest; a forearm under her bum, hand on the back of her head. “Daddy missed you. He missed you so much.”

“What are you even doing here?” Esme inquires as she joins them, a playful scolding tone to her voice and a look of pure relief on her face.

He grins down at her. “I guess crossing your fingers worked.”

“I guess it did,” she says, and he’s able to keep Addie pressed securely against him with one arm as he wraps the other around his wife; pulling her tightly into him, lips meeting her temple. “I know it’s only been two days,” her voice is muffled against his chest, both arms around his waist. “But I have missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. It’s felt longer than two days.”

She nods, pulling away slightly to look up at him, tears sparking in her eyes. “I was so worried about you. Everything went okay?”

“Better than I thought it would. I’ll call you later and tell you all about it. Fill you in on all the gory details.”

“Yes, because I just love your stories of mutilation and homicide. You’re okay?” Her hands rub at his sides. “You look okay.”

“I’m fine. Not a scratch on me.”

“Guess you haven’t lost your touch after all. And to think you were worried about that.” Her face turns serious, the amount of tears in her eyes increasing. “I was so fucking worried about you, Tyler.”

“I know you were.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t cry. Everything’s fine.”

“I’m just relieved. That I didn’t just have to take your for it and I got to see it...you...with my own eyes. I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you.”

“Now you’re going to make ME cry.”

“Did you get the videos? Did you watch them?”

“I did. And I’m slightly concerned that my six year and five year olds are already smarter than I am.”

“I don’t think they’re anywhere near being that smart yet, but they are crazy intelligent. Almost scary HOW intelligent. We are going to have our work cut out for us, I think. Having three brainiacs in the house?”

“Four if you count their mom. Where do you think they get it from? My looks, your brain. We’ve been through this.”

“Is that some sneaky, backhanded way of calling me ugly?” she teases.

“Baby, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, you know that. And I love you,” he places a soft kiss to her lips. “So much.”

“I love you too. And did you see Addie? Her smile? Her REAL smile? She smiles exactly like you. Her eyes crinkle and everything. So there. She DID get something from you, after all. Are you okay?” She reaches up and lays a hand on the side of her face, running her thumb over his lips. “With what happened? You’re alright?”

“I’m okay. I just missed you guys. It’s been harder than I thought it would.”

“It’s been six months. You had a whole different life for half a year. I’d be worried if going back to this WASN’T hard.”

“It’s not just that. It’s...I don’t know….” Tyler shrugs. “I can’t talk about it right now. Not with the kids around.”

“Is it about what you did?”

He nods. “About what I did. How I felt about it. How I DIDN’T feel. We’ll talk later. I can’t stay long; just in case someone is keeping an eye on me. You guys will be safer at the house than you will be standing out here talking to me.”

“Thank you. For making the effort to get here. The kids needed that; to see you. I needed that. I really needed to see you. I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“I needed to see you, too. I was worried I’d never get the chance again. And I wish I could stay longer. Or go to the house with you guys. I’d give anything to be able to do that. Anything.”

She gives a small, understanding smile. “I know you would.”

“I gotta go.” He holds Addie out in front of him, kissing her forehead. “I love you, little peanut. Stop growing up so fast. You might be the last one.”

“We’ll talk about that later too,” Esme says, and he leans down to press a kiss to her temple before placing Addie in her arms. “I love you. We’ll see you in a few days, right?”

“Yep.” He attempts a reassuring smile, then kisses her; long and soft and sweet. “I love you. Call me when the kids are asleep. We’ll talk about stuff.”

“Okay,” she agrees, squeezing him tightly and burying her face in her chest once more when he gives her one last hug. Holding onto him longer and tighter than before. Unable to control the tears that trickle down her face.

****

“You should see this place,” Esme says four hours later, after all the kids have finally settled in their rooms and have managed to fall asleep. “Remember when we stayed at Mahajan’s? What that place was like? Well this Mahajan’s on steroids. I am serious. Ten bedrooms. TEN! And eleven bathrooms! Who cleans all those bathrooms? We have three and we can’t keep up half the time. And the master ensuite is bigger than our entire bedroom. And our room at home is what I consider huge.”

He can’t hold but smile at the youthful exuberance in her voice. He knows she’s exhausted; physically and emotionally. Not just from a twelve hour flight with five kids, but with everything that’s gone down within the past month and a half. But he can hear the difference; being in Mumbai and closer to him has lifted some of the stress and worry, replacing it with relief and at least some peace of mind.

“And you should the shit this guy has,” she continues. “I’ve never seen anything like it. An underground garage full of insanely expensive exotic cars. A home theatre, indoor and outdoor pools and jacuzzis, his own tennis and basketball courts. Who needs all this stuff? I thought we had a lot of stuff. This? This is our stuff times a thousand.”

“We have a lot of stuff...normal stuff...because we have five kids. He has a lot of stuff because he doesn't have anyone or anything else to spend his money on.”

“”I mean, we have money too. We’re not exactly poor. Not anymore, anyway.”

“We don’t have his kind of money, babe. What we have in the bank is like a month’s salary to him.”

“We also don’t buy stuff just to buy and have stuff. This is just insane to me. And the animals. It’s not one or two, Tyler. It’s its own goddamn zoo. He’s got tigers and monkeys and peacocks and a sloth. And snakes. So many snakes. Don’t even get me started in the snakes. All I have to say is thank god they’re far enough away from the house and securely contained. Because you know my fear of snakes.”

“I don’t know where this fear comes from. We’ve only had one snake in the house so far”

“In my shoe!” She reminds him. “Which I tried to stick my foot into, thank you very much.”

“What was one of the first things I told you when we first moved back to Australia? Especially where we moved TO. Check your shoes before you put them on. If you listened to me more often…”

“What if it bit me?”

“You would have lived because it wasn’t poisonous. And it was a baby. The way you fucking screamed, you would have though it was an anaconda trying to eat one or two of the kids.”

“I don’t like snakes. I told this when we first lived there. That I’m scared of them but I loved you enough to live somewhere where there’s tons of them. And you promised you’d be the one to handle them. And the spiders.”

“Which I have. And the dingoes. Have I let a dingo get you?”

“You’re probably waiting for the opportunity to feed me to one.”

“Baby, if I wanted to get rid of you, there’s about a hundred different ways I could do it. And feeding you to a dingo is NOT one of them. And I don’t want to get rid of you, so…” He stretches his legs out in front of him, resting his bare feet on the top railing of the balcony. “...you’re safe.”

“What I don’t understand is our children’s fascination and love of snakes and spiders. If you didn’t encourage them to pick the damn things up and let them crawl all over them…”

“They’re not dangerous. They can’t hurt the kids. Let’s not raise pussies, okay? They have to learn about stuff, yeah? Let them learn. As long as they’re not in danger, what’s the worst that could happen? What are they going to do? Want a Huntsman as a pet?”

“I will refuse to step foot in the house again,” she declares. “I will move out. I will live with Ovi in the guest house. If you EVER let the kids do anything like that, I swear…”

“I’d miss you too much. I know what lines I can’t cross.”

“Speaking of lines you shouldn’t cross. Who’s the girl you were with tonight?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“What? You thought I wouldn’t notice you left with her?”

Tyler grins. “Esme, are you jealous?”

“Do I have a reason to be?”

“I kind of like this. You getting all jealous. You getting all worked up. It’s kinda hot, actually. And no, you don’t have a reason to be jealous. She’s young enough to be my kid.”

“Maybe she likes older men.”

“Good for her. But I like you, so…”

“So who is she?”

“Riya. She works for Nik. She’s from Dubai. Apparently her folks are loaded and basically disowned her for going to school in the States and picking the job she did. Sound familiar?”

“That DOES seem a little too close to home for my liking.”

“She actually wants to talk to you.”

“Oh how cute,” Esme scoffs. “She wants my permission before she bangs my husband. Well at least this is asking before she tries.”

“Only person I want to bang is you. And she wants to talk to you about Ovi.”

“Ovi? What about him?”

“You’re the one who can’t stay out of other peoples’ business, right? You like meddling in relationships.”

“Pardon me? It’s advising. Not meddling. Advising.”

“She wants you to hook her up.”

“With Ovi?”

“Are you following along at all or have I been talking to myself?”

“I mean, it’s Ovi. He’s like my kid. No. Scratch that. He IS my kid. I can’t set him up./”

“Why not?”

“Do you want me setting Millie up? Or TJ? Or Tanner?”

“First off, Millie is six. The boys are five. It’s not the same thing. Just do it. Put in a good word for her.”

“So now you’re encouraging me to meddle? That’s a first for you.”

“I’m encouraging you to help a poor, desperate girl out. And Ovi too. He’s been acting like a little bitch since Chloe took off and I can’t can’t take much more. So do me a solid and save what’s left of my sanity and help Ovi get laid.”

“Okay, wow. THAT’S a little disturbing. Isn’t that supposed to be your thing? Anything sex related? You’re a guy. You find him a piece of ass. Call one of your hoes from your old little black book.”

“Actually, I didn’t have anyone in India,” Tyler admits.

“You poor baby,” she scoffs. “My heart bleeds for you. And find. I will put in a good word for this girl. But if you want him to get laid, you figure out how to make it happen. And don’t sample the goods, either.”

“Only goods I want to sample are yours. So why don’t you come over here and let me.”

“You’re hurting, aren’t you,” Esme laughs.

“A little. It’s been forever.”

“It’s been two days, Tyler.”

“Feels like it’s been forever. What are you wearing?”

“Are you serious right now? You want to have phone sex?”

“You can’t come here and I can’t go there, so…”

“I’m wearing a lovely combination of premenstrual syndrome, baby puke, and dog hair.”

“Now THAT’S sexy. PMS, huh? So things are going back to normal that way.”

“It was going to happen eventually,” Esme sighs. “After the next one, they can take everything out. I’m done. I won’t need any of it anymore. They can have it. If I never have a period again, that’s fine by me, I’d say it’s good for you too because you won’t have to put up with my extreme bitchiness once a month, but you have two daughter who will go through this one day.”

He frowns “Can Addie at least get to her first birthday before we talk about this shit?”

“It’s going to happen, Tyler. I mean it could happen to Millie in a few years. I was ten.”

“Esme, for fuck sakes. I don’t…”

“Sorry, honey. I hate to break your heart like this. But one day it’s going to happen. And one day she’s even going to want to have sex and need to go on birth control and…”

“Do you want a divorce? Because bringing this shit up is how you get a divorce.”

“I love you, Tyler James. You’re my favorite human And I love how you can impale someone with a garden rake but you can’t handle the thought of your daughter maturing. You’re so fucking cute. You’re so cute, I’d have phone sex with you right now if my cramps weren’t so bad. I am telling you, after the next one? My body is done. That’s it. Take it all out. It’s not needed anymore.”

“Next one? I thought we weren’t going to talk about that until I got home.”

“I made the decision. Without you.”

He smirks. “Oh, so you mean like you usually do about everything.”

“Pretty much. If you really want another one…”

“You gotta want it too. Not just me. I don’t want you doing it just because I want it.”

“I do want to. One more. An even number. And if something happens like it did with the one that should have been between the twins and Declan…”

Tyler sighs. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“We stop if something goes wrong. Because once was bad enough. Well twice, if I count the one with Mark. I can’t keep having my heart broken like that. And if we can’t successfully carry another one, we just stop. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees. “And it wasn’t fun for me, either. Going through that. It was my baby too.”

“I know. But you were amazing and so good with me and it made me love you even more. I’m worried about you, Tyler. There was something in your eyes tonight. When you talked about what you did today. I can’t put my finger on it. I just know what I saw and that I’ve never seen it before. It wasn’t old Tyler OR new Tyler. I don’t know who it was.”

“Before I tell you what’s going on, I need to tell you what I did. And I know you hate hearing the gory details. But I need to tell you.”

“Okay…” There’s a slight rustle of the phone as she shifts positions in bed. “...I’m not going to sleep for a couple days after this, am I.” While she accepts and supports what he does, she draws the line at hearing the details. She’d seen enough in Dhaka, and once that was over, so was her desire to ever see -or think about- another drop of blood again. “Did you shoot them?”

“No. I didn’t shoot them. I was more...hands on.”

“Like your bare hands, or…?”

“Sort of. I kinda slit a guy’s throat and gutted another one. Literally.”

“Okay…”

“And I liked it. I liked doing it. And I’ve never liked doing it before. I killed because I had to. Because I had to keep myself alive. Now I’m doing it because I WANT to. Because I enjoy it. That’s fucked, yeah? Tell me that’s fucked. That I’M fucked.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s fucked. And I definitely won’t say you’re fucked. And I can’t say I’m totally shocked. Or shocked at all, to be honest.”

“Maybe we’re both fucked,” he says. “And not in the good, fun way either.”

“Well before you question our levels of depravity and insanity, let’s look at this for what it is. This isn’t a normal job. This isn’t what you’re used to. You’re used to not having any emotional ties to what you do. You go in, you do what you have to do, you get out. That’s it. You don’t know these people, you don’t know the people they’re hurting, none of that. You’re not connected to any of them, right?”

“Right.”

“Well this time you DO have a connection. A very personal one. These people threatened your family. And I don’t know exactly what the threats are, but they must be pretty bad if you won’t tell me. I mean, people are saying horrible, twisted things about people you love. About me and your kids. It doesn’t get more fucked up than that; threatening children. Addie’s one of them and she’s just a baby. What kind of fucked person says shit like that about a baby?”

“Evil people,” Tyler concludes. “Really fucking evil.”

“And you’re pissed. To your very core. I see if in your eyes, Tyler. I hear it in your voice. How angry you actually are. How disgusted you are. And you have every right to feel those things. This is as personal as it gets. And you wonder why you enjoyed it? I’d enjoy it too if someone threatened you and I got to kill them. I’d enjoy every fucking second.”

“It just makes me feel like such a dick,” he admits. “Like I’m a horrible fucking person. I made the one guy look at me. Made him watch me while I slit his throat. And he recognized me. He knew who I was. And I liked that he did. That my face was the last thing he saw.”

“And that doesn’t make you a bad person,” Esme says. “A bad person wouldn’t be worried that it makes him a bad person. You’re a good person, Tyler. I know you struggle to see that. But I see it. And I know it. I know who you are away from all of this. I know how loving you are. How gentle you are. What you did today...what you felt or didn’t feel...that doesn’t erase who you are or what you’re like away from all of this.”

He blinks back tears “This is fucked. This all so fucked.”

“You’re doing what you have to do. You’re stopping them before they can do the same thing to us. Or worse.”

“Definitely worse. Much, much worse.”

“Do you want to tell me what the threats were or…”

“No. You don’t need to hear that. You don’t need that shit in your head. It’s bad enough it’s in mine. That it’s probably never going to leave.”

“We’ll work on that,” Esme promises. “Your brain. When we get home. We’ll work on it TOGETHER. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Tyler. So much. And I wish I could be right there with you. I know this isn’t easy for you. That you’re struggling with so many things. But I love you and I’m so proud of you.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in this throat and using a forearm to wipe the tears from his face. “I love you. And this sucks. Being away from you. You’re so close but it’s like you’re so fucking far.”

“If you need me there, I can find a way. And I will. You know me. I’m pretty sneaky and tenacious on a good day.”

He gives a small chuckle. “Yeah, you are.”

“And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. So if you need me there….”

“I’m okay. For now anyway. Stay with the kids. They need you.”

“So do you. Even if you won’t admit it.”

“I do. Need you. But they need you more.”

“Promise me you’ll call if it gets worse. If you change your mind. Because I’ll figure it out. How to get to you and stay with you. Promise me.”

“I promise. I’ll call you if I need you.”

“Get some sleep, okay? It’s been a long day. Call me in the morning. Just so I know how you’re doing.”

“I will.”

“And thank you. For showing up tonight. Seeing you did a world of good for the kids. Especially Tanner. He’s finally smiling again. And he has such a beautiful smile. YOUR smile. And it did me a world of good too. To see you. I miss you, And your arms. It was really nice to be in those arms again,”

“It felt good to have you in them. Hopefully in a few days…”

“It’ll happen. I know it will. You’re doing fine. Just keep doing what you have to do. That’s it. We’ll talk in the morning, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Get some sleep,” she gently orders, and then disconnects the call.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

6 notes · View notes

kootenaygoon · 5 years

Photo

So,

Loving Paisley always felt dangerous.

She was a rich Calgary girl way out of my league, a thoughtful and compassionate little Bambi-eyed human who I longed to protect. I loved introducing her to people, driving her places, and taking her picture. For the first time in my life I had someone who was mine. I was fiercely loyal to her, sometimes to an unhealthy degree, and our temperaments were linked, which meant if she was suffering then so was I. By the time we got to Nelson we were so accustomed to our volatile, high-stress episodes that we’d learned how to ride them out, shake them off, pretend they’d never happened.

We shared a dream of being together, but it was getting harder to ignore the bouquet of red flags we’d collected over the three years of our relationship. We were a family now, though, with Muppet and Buster, and who wanted to break that up? And what about Cora, our dreamed-about daughter? Wasn’t she worth weathering a few fights for? Paisley had been in and out of the hospital, but she was still proactively planning a way to pull us out of this rut. Eventually she came up with the idea of CrossFit.

“You spent all those years as a competitive swimmer and you haven’t done anything since,” she said.

“This could be something you could throw yourself into. Like look at your shoulders, you’re meant to be a weightlifter. It’s a class, so a bunch of people all working out together, with music and everything. It would be so good for your mental health, bear.”

“That seems boring to me, just lifting weights over your head over and over.”

“There’s more stuff than that. You do pushups and jump on boxes and there’s chin-ups and all kinds of stuff. It’s a full-body work-out, see? Come look at this. We could both get totally ripped.”

“How much does it cost?”

“Less than we spend on weed. And there’s a couple’s special, too.”

Paisley had personally transformed me over the years. Most of my clothes had been hand-selected by her, she controlled my diet, she’d chosen my cologne. When we first met I had a close-shaved beard with a tight line at my jaw, and she encouraged me to grow it out “Gandalf-style”. She took me for runs, or kicked me out of the house to run on my own, and made sure to give me a handful of vitamins every night before bed. She fed me delicious vegan meals, and prepared lunches and snacks for work. I loved how she took care of me, even if everything else seemed to be fights and screaming.

The most important thing was that she took me seriously as a writer, and believed that I would succeed one day. She was invested in my novel, intimately involved in all my decision-making, and would routinely encourage me to pivot away from the TV to get writing. Sometimes she would read passages and then give me spot-on notes. She had a sharp eye for detail, a cynical intellect and a twisted sense of humour. We spoke to each other in ridiculous baby voices, making up words like shabona and badoyna.

“I don’t think my antidepressants are working. I don’t feel any sort of difference and every single morning I feel like it’s this Herculean task to even get out of bed. Maybe I need to switch brands,” I said.

“Or maybe your dose isn’t high enough. My doctor doubled my dose six months ago,” Paisley said, rolling over in bed to put her hand to my face. “Tell him how you’re feeling, and see what he says.”

“I don’t think I can take this anymore.”

“I’ll make you an appointment, okay?”

“Okay. Yeah.”

“You have to remember it’s all connected: diet, exercise, mental health. If we want to get legit healthy we need to do all of them together. And I still think you should go full vegan.”

“I can’t do it, I can’t. You know I’d love to.”

She sighed, disappointed like always.

One thing we relished was our weekend sojourns, the days we would load the dogs into the RAV and take off with the canoe strapped to the roof. We’d hiked together in the Yukon, in Portland, in Nova Scotia and on Vancouver Island, but the Kootenay wilderness had a special magic all its own. History seemed to come alive before your eyes when you’d wander around some new corner and find a hulk of ancient mining equipment, or the foundation of some long-forgotten settlers’ cabin. Out in the Slocan Valley, right off the highway in Winlaw, there was a bunch of derelict infrastructure sinking into the woods. Paisley and I spent a Sunday afternoon taking pictures and smoking joints there, listening to the Slocan River swish by through the trees.

“Will, look at this. We gotta get some pictures of this graffiti over here, come look!” she yelled, while I struggled up the hill twenty feet behind her. At the top of the rise was a towering mural of two giraffes, their necks curving towards each other so they can kiss, with a bright red heart hovering between them. The colours were ultra-vivid, creating a stark contrast with the earthy tones of its surroundings. I would later learn it was the work of local muralist Matty Kakes. Muppet and Buster had tangled their leashes, so we both leaned down to help extricate them, pleasantly stoned.

“Those giraffes?” Paisley said. “That’s us.”

A week later I arrived at my appointment. I’d recently found a new doctor, a kind-faced Thai woman a foot shorter than me. She breezed into the room, sat down at her workstation and set a clipboard in front of her while she half-sung her greeting. We bantered back and forth for a few moments before she asked me why I was there.

She raised her eyebrows and held her pen ready.

“Well, there’s just been some really intense stories at the Star lately and I’ve sort of been having this conflict with my boss, right? And lately I’m feeling just overwhelmed and depressed, like I’m barely holding shit together. I was hoping the antidepressants would help, but they don’t really.”

“You’re on citalopram?”

“Yeah, I’ve been on it for almost a year now.”

She asked me about side effects, asked whether I was taking the pills consistently. Was I drinking? How about smoking pot? I told her I drank a little bit, like maybe some whiskey on week nights and beer on the weekends. As for pot, I lied and told her I only smoked a joint or two a day, radically under-selling my actual intake. She told me it might be that the cannabis was interfering with the drug’s effectiveness. Would I consider cutting back? I nodded good-naturedly, all the while knowing there was no way I could. Not while Paisley and I were in this particular morass.

“She went for it,” I told Paisley, as we left the doctor’s office. “She doubled my dose.”

“Oh, good.”

“And that CrossFit thing, babe? I’m in.”

She jumped up and down, kissed me, ran her fingers through my hair. We were across the street from Nelson City Hall, with late afternoon traffic humming past, and we hung in each other’s arms trying to believe in the future. Back in Dawson City we’d once passionately made out in the middle of the street at like 2 a.m., her legs wrapped around my waist while cars motored past on either side. Could we get there again? We were still that couple somewhere deep inside us, we just needed to dredge that feeling back out again. Being in love with her made me feel sick to my stomach, even a little dizzy. It was the same feeling I experienced the first time I went sky-diving, the moment my body lurched out of the plane and began to free fall. With her lips to my ear, she whispered her next words.

“I think we should get married.”

The Kootenay Goon

2 notes · View notes

adorabledonutunicorn · 5 years

Text

Dealing with Depression

International lifelines: http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-hotlines.html

Resources in he US and things I’ve used:

Crisis Text Line: https://www.crisistextline.org/

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255 or https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/talk-to-someone-now/

Wysa (also an app): https://www.wysa.io/

7cupsoftea (also now an app): https://www.7cups.com/

Stop, breathe, and think: https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=org.stopbreathethink.app or https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/stop-breathe-think/id778848692?mt=8

BetterHelp: https://www.betterhelp.com/

No one is probably going to see this lol, but just in case someone does, I’ll put this out there. I am by no means an expert or completely better, and what has worked for me so far may not work for you, but hopefully the few things I have to say is still helpful.

So, last year was by far the hardest to get through. From about Late April to probably mid-September I was at my lowest, often dealing with suicidal thoughts and ideations. I would also like to point out a few informational things: Am I clinically diagnosed with depression? No. Am I depressed? Yes, and I might also have social anxiety. Do I take medication? Yes. Do I have a psychiatrist? Yes. Do I go to therapy? Yes. Am I judgmental about anyone with mental illness? Absolutely not.

First and foremost, I encourage you to seek help and reach out. I know it is NOT AT ALL EASY, and it hurts that I say those stereotypical words because I know it’s easier said than done. But I care, so I encourage you to reach out in any means whether it be to a trusted human, doggo or pupper, teddy bear (I mean...your teddy will listen, not judge you, and give you hugs), crisis center, or hotline. If I’m being quite honest, it took me more than a year to reach out because I realized I was not okay. But the first and most important person I told, is one of the main reasons why I am still here. I could be all dramatic and be like “she saved my life” and that would not be a lie, but what’s more true is that she has provided me with a safe space emotionally and physically, support, encouragement, and resources. I’m sure it also helped that she works in the mental health field but hey, I am extremely lucky to have her in my life either way.

On some of the hardest most overwhelming days, her and her husband were kind enough to let me stay overnight with them. They also just let me hang out and watch Netflix when I really need to get away. I’ve never really had such a close deep friendship with anyone before them, but let me tell you, it feels good to be loved and cared for. They are like my new and improved family (I mean, they are a lot older than me too). I’ve known what it’s like to feel desperately alone and like no one cares, but there ARE people out there who do. I would say you should go out there and find them but ummm, it almost feels like those friends came to me hahaha. I guess “finding” in this context moreso means that if they aren’t a part of your present, they WILL be a part of your future.

Those also aren’t the only friends I’ve told. I happen to have a few friends irl and online *wow, I have friends?* and it took all the guts in my compromised digestive system to tell them. Just having people around me who know, won’t judge, and are there feels like an extra cushion. I can’t have only one other person carry my burdens, the load becomes lighter with more people. And obviously we’re not gonna have an infinite amount of people we trust enough to reveal such a seemingly dark part of our life with, but if you have more than one person, reach out. Take it one step at a time and you will eventually get there.

Even after telling the first person about my struggles, it took months to get further help. Eventually I reached out to the University’s Counseling Center—yes, I know I am lucky to have had all these resources available to me...for the low low cost of my tuition and fees. Ok but seriously though I really am lucky—and I met with a counselor for some amount of weeks who was not a good fit for me, and transitioned to group therapy. I can go more into detail some other time, but it has been helpful to have people I am accountable to and connect with.

This past September I was able to start antidepressants thanks to my friend who literally called in for me to make sure it would actually happen. Even still, I just started noticing that I’ve been improving and it’s taken me from August until now to feel marginally functional. Now that I say that I could slip back tomorrow but you know, that’s how it goes. Healing is NOT a linear positive function. And who is to say I won’t struggle with this for the rest of my life? It may be depressing (oh what a terrible pun) but that’s depression for ya. Some other things I started doing to help include occasional social media detoxes, writing letters, journals, or probably-extremely-bad poems, following and reading blogs from AFSP and TWLOHA, prioritizing sleep, trying to not stay in my room all day, being patient with myself, writing a list of things to live for, and practicing gratitude. The first few are pretty self-explanatory, but I found prioritizing sleep a good start to self-care. I might prioritize it a little too much sometimes lol but I need more sleep than the average person. If you’re depressed, then you probably do too. And on top of that, going outside and seeing the sun or clouds or whatever your most common weather is, is important. It forces me to try not to isolate myself and stay in my black hole of a room all day. Even on days where I don’t want to get out of bed, I somehow do because I’m apparently a pretty high-functioning person and/or my stomach makes me sometimes. That might not be the case for you but that’s okay because sometimes you just need to be patient with yourself. There are some days where leaving your bed is an accomplishment. And believe me when I say it IS an accomplishment. No one said staying alive is easy. Somehow my body maintains homeostasis minus serotonin and probably other hormones, but if you’re heart is beating, you’re alive. It might hurt to be aware of that fact, but I hope you can take it as a sign. A sign that there are things at work you can’t control, and these things are trying to tell you to stay alive. You are more than your thoughts, and your reality is more than the lies in your head. And I guess this kind of leads into reasons to be alive and gratitude. It probably sounds dumb in theory, but making a list of all the reasons to stay alive has reminded me of all the things I am so grateful to have. Personally, this list mostly involves people in my life...but hey these people are the best humans I know. Some of them have depression too and that doesn’t make them any less great. In fact, their stories give me hope which is incredibly important. Let me say that louder for the people in the back, HOPE IS IMPORTANT. Hopelessness feeds depression, and while sometimes you might be able to stumble upon something that gives you temporary hope, the real hope that sends out a life ring when you need it most has to be created. In other words you need to put in the effort to find a light that won’t fade away. But spoiler alert, that’s not easy either and I can’t tell you how or where to find that. For me, what helps is gratitude. It helps me be present in the moment, observe my surroundings, and notice that I have many things to be thankful for. Sometimes it’s the sun on a cold day, sometimes the calm snow at night, yummy food in my dorm, or small moments of seeing someone being kind to someone else. When you are grateful the small things, they really start to matter. It’s like saving pennies, it adds up. For me, seeing the seasons change can be quite beautiful, so I should stay alive to see my own seasons change too. The weather might not always be desirable, but if you look in the right direction, you might see a rainbow—or even a double rainbow all the way across the sky. So I hope you decide to stay, to live another day, and find something worth living for. For my last thought which is kind of unrelated but I still wanna put it here...You might not be like me and like simplicity and silence, but sometimes I get the most fulfilling feelings when no one is around, it’s quiet, and I just listen ;) .

#dealing with depression #depression #hope #suicide prevention #depression tips #Suicide is never the answer #you are beautiful #you are loved #you are irreplaceable

1 note · View note

fmdtaeyongarchive · 4 years

Text

�� we are no more than friends, i know.

date: august 2020 / october 2020.

location: kiha’s studio / ash’s apartment studio

word count: 2,048 words.

summary: idk. ash has issues other than the vogue korea september issue if you catch my drift. the ending of this is so melodramatic but so is ash, leave us alone

triggers: alcohol mentions + metaphorical suicidal imagery and gun violence imagery. also metaphorical blood imagery. yeah, ash is on his love = death shit again. i’m sorry. he’s not taking his antidepressants in the later parts of this + he’s read too much about bonnie and clyde for this song + meningitis causes “emotional disruption” so please just blame it on all of that.

notes: creative claims verification. more mentions of youngjoo. also… an appearance from npc ash’s producer crew friend kiha so i gotta say now that kyung and kiha have both made appearances in ash solos... erin is the only one of ash’s npc crew trio friends with a brain to mouth filter, which is why he gets along with her the best.

ash doesn’t have much experience with unrequited love.

for someone who’s defined so much of his music-making by the heartbreak he’s been through, he knows the heartbreak of once-requited or still-requited feelings far more than he does the heartbreak of loving someone who doesn’t feel the same way. perhaps it’s one small way in his life that he’s been lucky. rarely have his feelings that weren’t returned ever gotten very serious. he knows getting starry-eyed over someone who doesn’t know he exists or affection for someone who doesn’t see him as an option, even yearning for someone he suspects might be yearning for him in return without confirmation, but love? love is a two-way street.

which is why he’s caught off-guard when kiha asks him if he’s in love with some chick who doesn’t love him back when ash shows him the latest song he’s been working on.

“huh?” the shock on ash’s face is genuine, but kiha laughs like ash is fronting for the sake of evading their conversation.

“come on, man. no one who actually doesn’t care writes a whole bryson tiller knockoff with the lyrics ‘just friends, who cares?’ that’s rule number one of the friendzone.”

ash scoffs and turns back around in his seat, trying not to show that the other’s words had caused some hurt, which only earns another chuckle from his friend.

kiha really gets on ash’s nerves sometimes. being his go-to clubbing buddy doesn’t make him an expert on what’s going on in ash’s life, and ash doesn’t even believe in the friendzone anyway. that’s for people who believe the world revolves around whether or not they can have sex with each person they have in their lives.

he only gets more annoyed as kiha speaks yet again. “what? too much of a hot shot for the girls and guys not to jump at the chance to get with you?”

kiha is joking and ash knows, but it strikes a tender nerve that ash would very much prefer were left alone. there come times like this when their different worlds clash too strongly. kiha finds the whole idol thing to be a joke and, frankly, so does ash, but that doesn’t mean he wants to deal with his friend mocking his entire public image.

he burns red with guilt at the simple fact one person immediately comes to mind as kiha drones on about ash ‘getting in his feelings’.

it’s not like he thinks he and youngjoo have anything in common with infamous american criminals on the run, but he has to channel feelings from somewhere and despite his best efforts to pretend otherwise, ash knows very well where nearly all of the romantic feelings he lays bare in his music come from these days.

it’s not that ash hasn’t considered that what he feels for youngjoo isn’t reciprocated, but then again, there are times she says things and does things and he lets his hopes get the best of him in believing he isn’t the only one feeling what he does. and even if she feels nothing for him, that’s fine, too. it’s not like he’s fallen head over heels, unable to get up, can’t eat or sleep without her. he has a little crush, and that’s fine. he’s not the first person on earth to have a crush and he won’t be the last and, considering their history, it’s only natural that sleeping together again for such an extended period of time would reawaken once-dormant feelings. he’s let himself get comfortable, that’s all. he could stop feeling the way he does any time he wants to.

it doesn’t matter whether her feelings for him go beyond what they have or not, anyway. that’s the point of the song. nothing’s ever going to happen between them again besides what they have now, so it doesn’t matter if they’re just friends or if either of them want more. that’s where the bonnie and clyde metaphor had come in — doomed no matter what they do, playing with fire, not belonging to each other.

after all, bonnie parker had been wearing her wedding ring from another man when she’d died by clyde barrow’s side.

bonnie and clyde may very well be lovers immortalized in name together and romanticized in media, but sworn to one another is something they’d never been.

as if on cue, ash’s silence prompts kiha to speak again. “and what’s the bonnie and clyde thing about?”

“american bank robbers? the quintessential romanticized reference of doomed lovers, if you aren’t counting romeo and juliet.” ash doesn’t bother to turn around from where he’s fiddling with one of the vocal lines to check and see if recognition lights up kiha’s eyes or not. if he’s going to be a dick, ash isn’t above being a little condescending about his song inspiration. “bonnie and clyde died for their crimes instead of as casualties of a violent feud between families, though. they saw their death as inevitable, if bonnie parker’s poems are to be believed. nihilism in the form of passionate love. i’ve been reading up on them here and there. they’re pretty interesting, actually, once you shed the lore around them and look at them as real people who did some bad shit.”

“damn, you’re ready to die for some girl?”

of course that’s what he’d taken from everything else ash had said. all ash had wanted was to ask kiha if he thought the vocal delivery should be looser or not, and this is where he’d gotten. he isn’t sure why he’d expected anything better.

“that’s not what i said, kiha.” ash rolls his eyes, knowing full well that the older man can’t see him, as he puts the finishing touches on his work before saving it and beginning to pack his things up as fast as he can manage while still looking unaffected. “it’s probably best if i go. it’s getting late.”

“never knew you were so masochistic. that just emotional or does it make you freaky in bed, too?”

the look on kiha’s face tells ash he’s finally realized too late that ash isn’t in the mood for the kind of jokes he’s cracking about the song or the untold story behind it. kiha doesn’t try to stop ash from leaving, though, and he doesn’t open his mouth again until ash is in the doorway and turns around to concede a goodbye.

“hey. you don’t strike me as the hell-raising clyde type, but if some girl, this ‘bonnie’ of yours doesn’t like you back, you gotta get yourself together and move on. why would you put everything on the line for some girl you have to fake not caring about? you gonna repeat history? sounds like bonnie and clyde didn’t get their happily ever after the first time around.”

ash forgets why he’s friends with kiha sometimes. the other man is a great songwriter for someone who seems so unwilling to experience his own emotions and so willing to give advice ash hadn’t asked for.

he has the misfortune of thinking kiha is done right before he pipes up again. “i know you’re done with relationships or whatever, man, but no one who doesn’t want to be loved back writes the shit you come in here and show me, so… i don’t know. go out there and find someone who will love you back so i don’t have to sit through your weird double homicide, dying side by side love fantasies until we’re old and grey and that pretty boy face can’t work its magic from our rocking chairs anymore.”

“hey, kiha? didn’t ask.” that’s all he gets for parting words before ash leaves and forgets everything kiha had said under more shots than he can keep track of.

it doesn’t bother him that kiha cuts right through every layer of armor he’s constructed so easily without so much as lifting a finger when all ash had wanted was some objective musical criticism.

no.

ash wants a drink after a long day. that’s all.

_____________________________________________________________

that’s all.

ash finds himself mentally repeating the phrase more and more as time races on.

kiha hadn’t said the song was a stupid idea, but in the days following their conversation, ash wonders if it is. the concept had been a spur of the moment one, based on a first verse spinning off into something new when he’d fallen down a rabbit hole online one night and he’d begun to wonder: in a different life, would he be a clyde barrow or a roy thornton? the thrill ride or the one that gets left behind?

because those are the only two options for someone like him in a situation like he’s in, in the end.

the song teeters dangerously on the edge of low synths and hi-hats, distorted brass and whispers under the track, a sonic mirror image of the clashing in his head. he thinks if he asked someone with more experience to their name with writing hits, they’d tell him it’s too busy to ever be a fully mainstream record, but ash is past writing for the mainstream with this song.

he doesn’t know if he even wants anyone to hear this. will they pity him? mock him? know him more than he wants them to, like kiha had when he’d reached right into the center of ash’s chest and squeezed around the bloody pulp his heart has become?

each time he ponders any one of the one hundred questions swimming through his head for too long, he’s tempted to leave everything behind again to find his way to the nearest club with a semi-safe standard for who they let in their doors. instead, he gets catharsis by kicking up the percussion up a few levels in volume and re-recording vocals over the parts that feel too soft listening to them back. his tone is darker now, more destructive instead of the romantic interpretation he’d taken on the first demo recording, but everything falls apart after the second chorus and in a peak-climbing moment of emotion, he exits the file completely, leaving him with two-thirds of a track and the remaining self-preservation not to come back to it while it’s playing games with his mind.

his self-preservation must get dropped somewhere in the ocean during his plane trips from seoul to indonesia to malaysia to seattle back to seoul, because coming back to the track happens only a few months after he abandons it.

the first night he returns to it, he weighs it down with the sound of his heart — a call that can’t be made.

if his heart is a payphone, he doesn’t have any change left to sound out a call for help, for forgiveness.

if he were to call her, would she answer or has she already cleared his number from her phone and blocked it permanently?

the track drops out and mellows where he’d left off.

even still would you remember me? nah, nah, i’m just...

he’d only hate himself more if the goodness of her heart could be great enough to give him a second, third, tenth chance.

the head-pounding bass kicks back in and then all of the air is sucked back out of it like being flung out into the black abyss of space.

a gunshot.

it’s the closest he can come to describing what he’d done to himself in his bedroom that night. he’d grabbed the gun and put it to his own head. there’s no one else to blame.

_____________________________________________________________

only a few days later, he opens up the file bonnieandclyde again, this time in his studio with full awareness of what it is and where he’d left it. the tequila shots he’d had to celebrate his return home to a dark and empty apartment after the end of his day aren’t enough to get him past the outskirts of tipsy.

the confusion of loss he’d left off at isn’t the correct ending anymore. a week after, and he knows the song doesn’t end with the trigger being pulled, but the last thoughts he’d had as every held-back thought had trickled out of his head in a bright red stream onto his carpet, his own heart beating in his ears — the only part of him foolish enough to keep fighting to stay alive.

i want, want you to know baby, i want you to know how much i love you how much i need you

#fmdverification #suicidal ideation tw #gun violence tw #death tw #&& when you're screaming but they only hear you whisper | self para #i wrote a whole essay in the tags initially but it felt annoying so i'll just leave a smaller note saying that the suicidal ideation #& death fixation that peeks through in some of these verifications esp. related to youngjoo aren't meant to romanticize it or imply they're #direct result of youngjoo or ash's non-relationship with her #those thoughts aren't limited exclusively to these moments i #just don't like to write about those things a lot in general because they can be triggering for me but considering the songs ash is writing #for his album moments of that particular mental health struggle of ash ended up appearing in some of these verifications #he needs more help than he's getting with his mental health + those moments aren't actually romantic even if he acts like they are + etc etc #&& queued

0 notes

braindamageforbeginners · 6 years

Text

Hair Loss

For those keeping count, today is Day 16 (that’s chemo doses), Radiation Treatment 10 (that finishes up week two on that calendar), and experimental infusion #3. Here’s a shocker; radiation is awful (we’ll get into details shortly), which is hardly news, but it’s worth saying, because there is a small contingent of Americans (mostly) who are gleefully looking forward to nuclear apocalypse, for reasons ranging from “I have a really cool bunker, and I want to know what humans taste like” to a very strange group of Christians who believe that Jesus will come back and nuke the planet (which doesn’t seem very Christ-like, but Apocalyptic Christianity is a very, very strange doctrine, which is why most Christians I know are somewhat doubtful). Before you push the nuclear button (or vote for someone who claims they’ll do it), I would urge you to get written, notarized guarantees of immunity from Jesus, because radiation is utterly miserable. Again, I’m in a waiting room with people whose faces are literally - not figuratively - falling off; and I’m getting - from what my doctors say - a relatively specific, mild-dosage of the stuff. And I’m still feeling wretched, so I’m pretty sure that exposure to weaponized radiation would be unimaginably awful. That is today’s Life Lesson.

I started today checking in at the lobby of the Cancer Center of the Large Hospital in Socal, which is like Freshman Registration; they tell you where to go, and when (even though I have a pretty good idea of where I need to be, and at what time, you do need someone to flag your arrival in the system, otherwise everyone will ignore you). I was flagged for having new insurance - regular readers will remember I called many, many, many people, and filled out assorted forms in order to guarantee continuity of care. I was assured by some billing demon that, if I provided them with all appropriate information prior to the New Year, they’d be able to figure it out. So, you can understand my consternation at some receptionist who said they were still processing my claims and/or insurance information.If you are involved in health administration in any capacity, the only - ONLY - acceptable response to a patient waiting for paperwork to clear is, “You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Go back in there, chill them niggas out and wait for the cavalry, which should be coming directly.”

This doubly-pissed me off, because the radiation folks somehow figured this out yesterday, in only a few hours, without any administrative staff (if I was middle-management in the medical system, I would be very, very worried that not-MBA-possessing nurses were capable of doing the job better than an entire billing department). I was mentally calling upon my Inner Sith Lord and reenacting Carthage (we’ll return to that thought momentarily) when Dad advised me to count to ten. Good news, the receptionist had me sign some sort of legal waiver that would enable them to retroactively bill insurance and/or sue me (or some combination of the two), and sent me on my merry way.

A brief aside; I’ve noticed, since Surgery #3, that my fight or flight impulse has dramatically shifted from “Skulk away glaring” to “Don’t be afraid to use your teeth.” I don’t know if that’s some sort of neurological effect, but it is getting 1000% better results than being good and hoping for some sort of karmic reward. I’m not going to discourage kindness or good behavior, and I’ll certainly do my best to foster those qualities in the future. At present, we live in a society where the squeaky wheel gets the grease, and you can not just wait and hope someone will take care of you. Or, that could just be the radiation turning me into the Hulk. Please, don’t take that as license to abuse the nurses or receptionists, but you’d be amazed at how well being ugly can cut through stupidity (I will also admit that I’ve had 16 years in the system, I’m pretty good at spotting the gristle in the steak).

There’s also a chance I had an angel on my shoulder for that incident; Research Coordinator told me later he’d heard about my insurance woes and made some calls on my behalf, and said I shouldn’t encounter any more insurance issues in the foreseeable future. Which is a victory for me. Then Research Coordinator hit me with a bomb; they want various samples once a week every week for a year (and the clock on that doesn’t even start until February), as well as experimental chemo drug infusions (and good old Temodar) every couple of weeks. Now, don’t get me wrong; if that’s what it takes to survive, I’ll do it, but that’s a massive commitment without any guarantee that it’ll work (Research Coordinator pointed out that Dr. A, who’s running the trial, got a PhD in glioblastoma treatment, which is probably why my Nocal Mad Scientist Oncologist referred me to him). And I guess it’s better to aggressively and constantly manage a disease, but it still smarts. And the medical team here is absolutely superb; I spent two days trying to get my pharmacy to renew one of my prescriptions (an antidepressant, to be exact); I made a note of it on the back of my hand to ask Dr. B (Dr. A’s research partner)(I’m beginning to suspect this man is some sort of dark trickster god, given his penchant for chaos and his warped sense of humor)(in other words, a kindred soul) about getting a renewal, since the pharmacy told me they were waiting for physician authorization. Dr. B didn’t originally prescribe me this medication, but, within minutes, he’d photographed the back of my hand (which had the medication and dosage on it)(I had it written down elsewhere, but I was hooked up to an IV, and had it written on my hand both as a reminder, and because I knew digging through my pockets for a Post-It wouldn’t be an option), and said I should call the pharmacy by the end of the day. Literally within four hours of that conversation, the pharmacy had my prescription ready. Which was something of a morale boost; since that’s the sort of competence and can-do attitude that will keep me alive.

Also, because life is a horrible march to death, my third-most-feared radiation symptom has showed up: hair loss. Fortunately for my sense of vanity, it’s not noticeable at the moment, and I’ve received wildly differing estimates on the severity, duration, and size of mange-patches to expect. If you read this, please don’t shave your head out of some sort of misguided solidarity or empathy (though I’m interested in any imaginative hat ideas anyone has); I appreciate the gesture, but I’d really rather you make a donation of some sort to a hospital or medical research group. Still, I’m up, coherent, capable of understanding how much trouble I’m in (again, it’s telling that my radiation oncologist double-checked that in our first meeting), and determined to find the punchline to what is the most horrible joke I’ve ever heard. So, I suppose that’s some sort of victory. Still, a year of Gatorade (”Drink of the Damned”) and mega-chemo hangovers.

Anyway… WEIGHT: 98 kg CONCENTRATION: Good. Maybe. It’s hard to tell on these all-day visits, because there’s constant noise, interruptions, forms, and discomfort. MEMORY: Very good. Again, I wasn’t really in a good setting to assess that. APPETITE: Not bad. I’m still eating, but not very much. I suspect that has little to do with the weird drugs, and more to do with drinking 17 gallons of Gatorade. ACTIVITY LEVEL: Not bad, but I also spent the vast majority of the day sitting or lying down. SLEEP QUALITY: Not bad; I slept most of last night, but not very well. COORDINATION/DEXTERITY: Good. I guess? Again, I spent most of today lying down or sitting, so I can’t really judge that. PHYSICAL: That nasty stiffness/fatigue I’ve learned to fear from the other injections is creeping into my neck and shoulders, so I’m sure I’ll be praying for death tomorrow morning. And I have a nasty headache at the suture site (Radiation Oncologist told me she’d be willing to prescribe decadron, but she also knows I hate that drug, and there’s no guarantee it’d do anything for inflammation at a surgical site, so I have a Tylenol salt-lick this evening). SIDE EFFECTS: I’m going bald. And I feel generally lousy.

#brain cancer #brain tumor #cancer

2 notes · View notes

asfierceaslions · 7 years

Text

the thing that’s always kind of annoying to me about weight stuff is that like idk i never particularly feel personally limited bc of my weight like i almost never encounter activities or anything that i can’t do bc of my weight. i don’t get easily winded. i can run with no problems. i have a very great amount of stamina. i can go and go and go and not get tired. even with most health things, i’m good. like my blood pressure is great and my other blood stuff is always good and i’ve never been denied donating blood or plasma. i am not usually bothered by my size, which is, admittedly, far larger than is like typical and def more than i should be but like. in a lot of ways, i live a healthier lifestyle than a lot of people thinner than me and like it just ANNOYS ME the things that come up at my doctor bc i get that they worry bc my family has a history of diabetes but i also feel like, looking back, i was being treated for pre diabetic conditions without much cause like i remember when i got put on metformin and then not long after that they were like lol ur doing good actually and you can stop taking it now and then i switched doctors and even though nothing had changed they insisted on me DOUBLING my doses and when i went back they were like we gotta do blood testing for ur diabetic conditions even though i was only there for my antidepressant like again i cant pretend even by a longshot that i’m a super healthy person but they currently have no reason to think i have diabetes and during the visit my doc kept asking me questions where she was clearly trying to trick me into admitting diabetic symptoms but i didnt have any and i KNEW why she was asking and she thought she was being so clever

like its been three years since i went there and i currently weigh 20 pounds more than i did three years ago but the thing is like. when i started at home depot, i started losing weight very obviously, but i also gained a ton of muscle weight and ultimately my weight didnt actually change. like you could tell i was losing fat but the numbers werent changing much, and they were very close to what they were when i was at the doctors last. then things got bad recently and i def gained weight but i also know it wont last and i tried to explain this but she just pointed to my weight gain as proof that i was almost certainly diabetic.

like. i’m not going to say that i’m DEFINITELY not because i don’t know that. but i do know that when i was told i could stop taking my metformin bc i was dramatically better, i had already not been taking it for awhile before that checkup. again. i cant say that i just dont have it at all, but the way they act about it very much rubs me the wrong way.

i mean i DO think i have pcos or something but she wouldnt listen about that she only wanted to talk about diabetes

and then when talking about my mental health she kept trying to get me to see a therapist and was like “for most people, a pill isn’t enough” even though i’ve EXPLAINED to her that as long as im taken care of in the meds department, my coping skills are fine and i know how to work with myself and counseling doesnt work for me bc i know all the tricks and i know me well enough to know why i do what i do but also how to fix it

and it just annoys me that she wont listen to me

i hate doctors and also everything

#~doctor stuff~

5 notes · View notes

sovidreams · 7 years

Text

Getting help with your mental health

(PLEASE READ: If you need urgent help you can visit Mind’s website for further advice http://www.mind.org.uk and click the “I need urgent help” button where you will be directed on what to do next)

Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional and therefore I can only guide you through personal experiences of mine/people I know.

OK, with that out the way, recently I have been asked by friends how I got help with my mental health. I’ve had to think about that a bit because it took a long time and wasn’t straightforward but I will try to talk you through things and what you can do for yourself. I’m in the UK so I don’t know how things work in other countries. I will, therefore, be referring to the NHS. Also a disclaimer here, I have tried to write this several times. I was really bad at getting help myself. it took me many years (well over 10) and a major trauma to finally get the proper help and support that I needed. Sharing my whole journey to getting help is literally too long! So here’s a simplified guide of what you can do.

1. Listen to yourself, your body and the way it feels, and your feelings. I knew I needed help because I couldn’t breathe, not like a panic attack but continually and unremittingly. I knew that my body was physically healthy as I had been very physically unwell years before and had lots of tests. Maybe you don’t know what you are feeling, you just know you don’t feel right. That’s OK. You don’t need to diagnose yourself to receive help, you just need to be aware of a difference.

2. Talk to a friend or family member if you can. Let them know that you’re struggling. This can be really hard, I know! I’m really bad at this but if you can tell just one person that should take the pressure off you a little bit.

3. Look up the number of your GP surgery (which you are hopefully registered with. It’s best to be registered with a GP surgery before you’re in an emergency. It just makes things easier administratively.)

4. Pick up the phone. This is a major step. My heart was pounding making this first call but you can do it. You don’t need to tell the receptionists what’s wrong but you might want to ask for a double appointment to give you enough time to talk. If it’s too hard to pick up the phone you can ask your friend or family member to make the call.

5. Going to your appointment. You can take someone along if this makes it easier. It will be hard to talk but that’s OK. A good GP will be patient and caring. If you don’t feel this in your first appointment then you can swap GP.

6. Your GP will ask you some questions about how you’re feeling, such as whether there have been any changes in your life. There is no right or wrong answer, just be honest. GPs have lots of experience and are not generally shocked.

7. Your GP might prescribe you some medication depending what is wrong. For example you might be offered beta blockers for anxiety, or antidepressants if your problem is more severe. Sometimes the GP will wait to prescribe you with anything, but they will ask to see you again to see if you improve.

8. You might feel very tired and drained after yourself appointment and thats OK too. You made it! You made the first step! That’s great. Congratulations!

9. You will be invited to a follow up appointment. Again, you can go alone, or with a friend. And again be honest. This time you may be asked about whether you are interested in therapy or counselling. There are many reasons people seek help and this will determine what you are offered. I was offered counselling for grief. Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) wouldn’t have been appropriate under those circumstances. Hopefully you will be offered what’s right for you at this stage, but it’s a question of funding in your area. It may take many months.

10. Hopefully at this stage your medication or therapy/counselling will be helping, but sometimes you will feel much worse before you feel better. That’s OK, just keep in touch with friends, family and your GP.

For many people number 10 is the last step, and they go on to feel much better but sometimes things are more complicated.

11. If your symptoms don’t seem to be getting better, or are actively getting worse you might be referred for more specialist help. This will be in the form of the Community Mental Health Team (CMHT) or a psychiatrist.

12. If you are referred to the CMHT or a psychiatrist you may feel really scared. You can prepare for your appointment the same way as when you went to your GP. It’s a really good idea to take a friend or family member at this stage. They can fill in the gaps for you.

13. A psychiatrist will ask you a very detailed history about you symptoms, what you are feeling right now, and about your family and your childhood. Again, this can be hard, but you need to be honest. It’s the only way that you’ll get the right help. You may receive a new diagnosis at this point, or have the diagnosis your GP has given you confirmed. This is OK, it means that you can arm yourself with information.

14. Following an assessment with the psychiatrist you will either be referred back to your GP with a follow-up plan or a change of medication, or you will be closely monitored by a psychiatrist. You don’t need to be scared about this. A psychiatrist is really just like a GP who has more specialised understanding of what’s going on with you. If you have the right psychiatrist they will be compassionate and caring and you will form a trusting relationship (I am aware that I was very lucky in this regard).

15. After careful monitoring your psychiatrist might decide to refer you to more specialist therapy, e.g.Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (CBT), Dialectical Behaviour Therapy (DBT) or a Psycho-education group with others with your condition. Mental illness can make you feel really lonely so this is good. It gives you a chance to meet other people like you. Again, going to the first session can be really scary, particularly if you have social anxiety, but hang in there. It will feel easier after the first session.

16. Your psychiatrist might discharge you back to your GP’s care when they feel you are better. This may depend on funding. Most of these services are severely stretched. You might not feel totally well again but there is mostly only funding for psychiatrists to see people right in the depth of crisis.

17. You may have a setback after being discharged. The good thing about psychiatrists (in my experience at least) is that once you are the system it can actually be easier to get an appointment than with your GP.

18. Hopefully by now your condition is more manageable and you’ve had a ton of support. I know, this is the best case scenario here.

19. Here’s the big thing: the twitter mental health community will always be there. Come and talk to us! There are many, many really nice mental heath campaigners and advocates to talk to.

20. Keep checking in with your loved ones. Reach out. Talk. Try not to be alone for a long time. Your journey has been tough and it may be tough for quite some time. If you have trouble with this IRL then again, come and talk to us on twitter. I promise you’ll feel less alone.

21. I forgot something. Here are a couple of ways you can seek out therapy if you would like something more long term than the NHS can offer. This is often called psychodynamic or psychoanalytical therapy. One of these may work for you if you know that you have long term issues or things that upset you from childhood. The NHS used to offer this kind of therapy but these days they just don't have the funding for it. These types of therapy can be very expensive but most good therapists offer a sliding scale of what you can afford to pay. You can ask about this at your first meeting (I will write a longer post on this)

http://www.britishpsychotherapyfoundation.org.uk/Pages/Find-a-Therapist/what-is-psychotherapy

https://www.bpc.org.uk/find-a-therapist

Or a general reputable counselling and psychotherapist directory can be found here:

http://www.itsgoodtotalk.org.uk/therapists

and here is a link recommended by Mind Charity if you would like to find a private CBT therapist:

http://www.babcp.com/Default.aspx

#mental health #getting help #gp #doctor #wellbeing #psychiatrist

2 notes · View notes

apolapets-blog · 7 years

Text

This is gonna be a sad post

And it’s no about the hummingbird, she (I think its a female) is doing fine and I’m getting advice from an experienced rehabber. I wan’t to talk about the reason why I joined petblr, and I want to vent about something terrible that happened today. This is the story of some of the animals I’ve been posting here... I warn anyone that wants to read it that this is gonna be long. Last year December was a pretty rough time for me, and a lot of things has happened in such a short time. I finally started taking antidepressants and just when my life was showing some hope my precious cockatiel Robin got lost, I tried everything to find him, I searched everywhere, I set a high reward and posted flyers everywhere and shared in a lot of bird groups.

That was devastating... Then someone (I don’t know who) brought Ceviche to my college’s animation studio, when I saw him he was in a flower vase and everyone laughed at me when I told them about proper betta care, so I chose to take care of him, I don’t take him home because I want all the students to see how a betta should be kept and I plan to post in the wall informative papers about betta (and cute drawings). I’m currently still taking care of him.

That’s when I chose Then I went out for vacations for 12 days, my brother’s girlfriend took care of my two budgies Ali and Kai, she is an extraordinary person that loves animals with al her hearth, she is actually vegan. When I came back I noticed something weird with Ali, the vet said it was a lipoma and I had to change her diet to only pellets and veggies (taking out the seeds portion), I asked if I had to take her into a different cage than Kai but he said it was ok if I changed both diets together. Let me tell you a bit more about my budgies, I don’t know how old they are, I adopted them from a man that didn’t want them anymore, they were “cage birds” that never knew what it was to interact with people or get out of the cage.

After more than a year of interacting with them at their own pace and trying to tame them they finally opened up and trust me few days ago, in a daily exercise session they flew to my head and also stepped on my fingers and let me pet them. I was so damn happy!!! After more than a year!

Well, today I feed them with the new diet as I’ve been doing for days, their morning portion since I feed them twice a day. At college around 9 am I found the hummingbird, I took her asap to the only exotic vet in my city (thankfully when I explained everything the check up was free), I contacted some hummingbird groups and I got help from a certified rehabber. I went to buy some things for the hummingbird, researched about shelters in my city, feed him, then I went to my appointment with my psychiatrist (a friend was with me so we took care of the birdie al the time, don’t worry) and when I came back home to give them their second portion of food something was off, I went to their room and I found y little budgie dead in the bottom of the cage... that broke my heart once again. It wasn’t my budgie with the lipoma, it was the other one... the vet said that’s actually the reason the one that’s still alive has the lipoma, she has been eating double portions, she actually eats far more than she needs therefor she ate the other budgie’s food... and since it’s kind of cold (not too cold, but I guess it was cold for a starving bird) that killed her. If I had checked on them before and payed more attention I could have taken her to the vet on time... I could have saved her... but I was so worried about the hummingbird... I am still worried about the hummingbird, and I din’t do anything outside of the routine with my birds.. is just.. Idk, I should have been extra careful since I changed their diet... they were doing so fine yesterday in the time out of the room... I don’t know what’s the world trying to say, I feel terrible. I try really hard, but it’s still not enough... sometimes I feel I don’t deserve to keep pets at all. But I love animals so much they keep me going... My adopted cat is the love of my life and since I adopted her I can’t imagine a life without her... and every single one of the animals at my care are so important... I feel so broken right now, but I have to stay strong because I want the remaining animals to be happy and healthy. I’ll post every single thing about my pets in here so please tell me if I do anything wrong, anything I can do better. It hurts so much to think that it’s my fault, I won’t say it doesn’t and I won’t say it isn’t my fault, I don’t even know what to feel to be hones, but I do want to make everything better, I want to learn. If my pets fall I’ll probably fall with them... I am falling... It’s pretty late and I have to wake up morning and take care of the hummingbird and college so I’ll leave it like this, I’m so sorry for posting all these stuff... I’ll be posting more about my pet’s enclosure, food and everything later so please tell me everything that I’m doing wrong or can be improved.

#petblr #birblr #fishblr #depression #depressive #my pets #about me #I want to kms #also I must not kms #but I want to kms

5 notes · View notes

3one3 · 7 years

Text

The Sequel - 876

Velvet Cherry

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“He asked before I saw him off if it’s really okay to write something, and I think he asked because he got an impression from talking to us. I doubt he knew we were ever together. I doubt most people know. I think you have always had a bad perception of who did. It wasn’t like we announced it on Twitter. Those articles…he wouldn’t have read them. Nobody reads them. They were mostly wrong anyway.”

“What impression? He probably just realized that all my answers made it seem like I married a useless person who doesn’t do any of the essential best friend functions, which is so not true.”

“I don’t know, but you don’t have to worry about him writing anything like that. You read him constantly. You know it’s not his thing.”

“Mhm.”

“How much did your dress cost?”

“Why?”

“It looks expensive. It looks like armor. I’m afraid to touch it.”

“It’s just metallic lace.”

“Which looks like armor.”

“Mhm.”

“Are you being cold, or distant? I can’t tell.”

“Yes you can.”

“I’m trying to make you smile, cariña.”

“Sit closer.”

Socks was a temperamental jerk in the City of Barcelona Cup. Christina couldn’t even be that upset with him about it, because he’d been home for almost two months, doing very little. She was never in a good mood on the first day back at school after an extended break either. They fought each other over many of the jumps, and finished 5th. That was especially grating for the rider because her performance was most un-Messi-like.

Juan took her out for cocktails at a really beautiful, popular bar and lounge with all things gold and velvet, and some really flamboyant bartending. They picked one end of a long tufted banquette to sit on because Christina wasn’t in the mood to watch the mixology show at the bar, or be social with the friendly mixologists. She sat with about a foot and a half between her and her Chelsea companion, legs crossed toward one another, and it was quite comfortable for quiet chatting. But she was slightly bummed, and feeling low on energy because of the disappointment, and she wanted to be much nearer her favorite antidepressant. She wanted him to do the thing where he made her negative stuff evaporate into thin air.

“Close enough?” he smiled after sliding over with his wine glass. He cautiously reached to touch one of her sleeves too. Her dress- a cocktail-length, long sleeve J. Mendel number in a steel sword kind of color- really was slightly painful looking. The very sheer metallic lace was almost like fishnetting, and overlaid with more silvery-gray designs that looked like a crossing of straps over her upper body, tiered bands of little rings in the skirt, fringe at the hem and neckline, and a cinching belt at her waist. Christina felt powerful and sexy in it. It did sort of look like it might hurt one’s fingers to touch it though. She spared the player any potential pain by diverting his palm to her thigh instead. Their table was very low, and provided no cover for such a gesture. She didn’t care. Nobody is gonna notice that here, she thought, sipping her Bordeaux. All the many liquor bottles on display and intriguing cocktails on offer didn’t tempt her. She just wanted to enjoy a couple of glasses of wine before they went to dinner.

“Give me something to think about that isn’t how I probably have to show more to keep my horses ready to compete,” she requested after patting his hand on her leg to encourage it to stay there. He had no intention of relocating it. His fingertips tucked in between where her thighs were pressed together.

“Do you want to go to the casino after dinner?”

“Not really. Maybe tomorrow night though? I’m tired.”

“You look beautiful though.”

“Thanks.” Christina tilted her head a little and smiled at the Spaniard. She wanted to be present with him, and unwind, and not get caught up trying to draw conclusions about the competition weekend and the two sour notes on which the major events concluded. André told her not to worry about the team result since Nick was fabulous as usual and the final placing had nothing to do with her. He told her not to worry about Socks either since it was his first show back and she didn’t get upset when Nick and Rio were rusty in Rome for their first show back. She knew he was right about the double standard. It was just hard to switch off her horse show brain and switch on her charming date mode. Usually putting on an expensive dress, curling her hair, and meticulously painting on deep, deep burgundy crème lip color was enough to get her head in the right place for a night out. Her mindset was having trouble catching up to her look.

“We can go early for dinner,” Juan suggested sympathetically. He tried to cut the cocktails out of the plan and schedule their meal a bit earlier in the first place, but Christina said she still wanted to go sit at the trendy bar and people-watch, and chat. Doing so in a bar felt different to her than doing it at a nice restaurant. They were two separate experiences and she wanted both. Plus, she really needed that wine. It wasn’t something she’d want to have with food.

“I’m okay. By the time I finish this glass, I’m going to be more entertaining. Schü does that, you know. He can be in some kind of shitty mood and he’ll set a deadline for it and then it actually ends as scheduled. I’ve been trying to figure out how he does that for years. And also why he doesn’t do it when he should,” the girl in the delicate-armor dress laughed, digressing. Sometimes being in a shitty mood feels good, I guess. I know I enjoy it now and then.

“Getting tipsy and setting a deadline are different things.” Juan winked at her profile and squeezed the top of her thigh. “Just don’t go the other way. You’re unbearable when you’re wine-drunk and unhappy. Especially when the wine is French. I have experience.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m confident you can help me be happy.”

“How’s that?”

“I dunno.”

“Uhhuh.”

“You’re beautiful too, by the way. You should let me fluff your hair up this way all the time. It makes your face skinny.”

“And a skinny face is beautiful?”

“Very handsome. Plus I like it when you wear black button-ups and blue jeans.”

“I like how I know you like my black button-ups and you know I like your white dresses.”

“I know you like this color too.” Christina let her mouth hang open in an editorially indifferent way, and then slowly swiped the tip of her tongue across just a small part of her upper lip.

“I do.”

“But back to Sid Lowe. How long do you think I should wait before I tweet him about Marcos Alonso again?” I’m gonna suck on his finger later with this favorite lipstick of his, she reminded herself, her mood turning somewhat toward more positive thoughts. I’m going to feel a lot better when I get to make him feel good. That’s one of the best reasons to have boys around. It always feels good to make them happy. Doesn’t even matter which one, or how you do it. Oh! Reminds me. I promised Lulu Schü I’d get him a good present.

“When does he do his podcast?”

“Monday.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

“More, please.” Christina finished her nice wine and held her glass out in front of the player since he was marginally closer to the bottle on the table. Her Spanish sommelier had to let go of her leg to refill her drink, and that was okay because she uncrossed her legs and turned more toward him to share a story about how she tried to re-institute the old tradition of making a wager on the result of the feature class of the weekend with her teammates, which she’d given up over the winter when she felt she wasn’t a safe bet anymore. No one wanted to take the odds against the girl who jumped 5 clear rounds at the Olympic games. She couldn’t find anybody, in or out of her team, who would agree stakes. Heiner was willing to bet that she’d curse on live TV when she sat down to chat with the FEI TV host in the broadcaster’s ringside studio. That did seem like a pretty safe bet. Christina could think of no reason why she’d be compelled to curse, and was too trusting in her coach’s desire to avoid scandal to suspect him of foul play. He paid her friend Kent a lousy €10 to run up onto the studio platform and moon her. The world #2 happily took his money, and she muttered “What the fuck?” in the middle of her interview. She then refused to make good on her wager with Heiner due to force majeure.

The pair of friends finished the Bordeaux and then strolled leisurely to a fine dining restaurant a few blocks away for dinner. The menu was full of classic Catalan and Northern Spanish dishes done with some modern flavor twists. The decor was full of contrasting geometric textures in bright whites and all the grays. The ambiance was unique- it was somewhat noisy in there, and really well lit, but each table seemed to have its own bubble of coziness so that diners felt alone with their companions but able to look out at and listen to everyone else too. Christina let Juan pick food for her, and for once managed to refrain from whining about seafood and being picky and skeptical. He was delighted by her willingness to experiment, and to trust him. Inside, she really didn’t want to. It seemed like a good way to let go of the horse show though. She could laugh at herself when something upset her palette and the reaction was extreme. She could genuinely marvel at flavors completely new and unexpected. And most importantly, she could watch and enjoy the Chelsea man’s smile. He always talked about what it meant to him for a girl “like her” to need him for something, or look to him for important things, and it seemed as if the small act of letting him guide her culinary journey for the night and asking him lots of questions about the traditional dishes upon which their veritable tasting menu was based was enough to give him that much coveted sense of responsibility and influence that Christina in turn always found ridiculous. He was one of two humans without whom she had no idea how to function in life. She always felt he overestimated her independence and capability, and underestimated his influence and impact. All of that aside, it was just fun to not care. It was easy to be vulnerable about dodgy food after her ego and image took a beating at the polo club two days in a row.

Christina decided that she wanted a glass of champagne before bed, and dragged Juan into the lobby bar at the Fairmont. The hotel had a makeover since the previous edition of the Nations Cup Final. The boring red and cream motif was gone. Everything was new. There was a lot of gold and shine in the public spaces, and the two friends agreed that the rooms were the furniture and decor version of a heather gray wool sweater worn over a white collared shirt with nice blue jeans and a brown leather belt. That covered every texture, color, and mood of their guest room, from the soft, knitted gray throw pillows to the caramel leather sectional. The update made the hotel feel more befitting of the occupancy rate. Christina liked returning to it on Sunday night more than she used to like walking in there.

“Did you finish the zoo book yet?” the Spanish player asked her while she changed in the bathroom. He was shifting things around on her nightstand to make room for the glass of water he poured for her. There was a stack of magazines and two books crammed on the small table that was essentially just a double shoebox-sized drawer sticking out of the wall, with a small glass orb holding a couple of flowers, a large telephone, a radio clock/iPod dock, a hairclip, her iPad, and a Chap Stick.

“Yeah. I’ve been able to read a lot lately. And actually absorb the words on the pages instead of moving my eyes over them while I think about 26 other things. I really liked it. I thought I texted you about it?”

“You might have. Sometimes my eyes move over your words on my screen while I think about 26 other things. Are you almost finished? My bladder is way over capacity.”

“Mhm. I’m just combing out my hair.”

“Don’t take off the-“

“I didn’t,” Christina smiled in the bathroom doorway, her poison apple red pout freshly retouched. Her dress had to go and so did her fluffy, wavy ponytail, but her lip color and mascara stayed. Juan turned around and smiled back. As if he hadn’t just said he was waiting to use the bathroom anyway, she summoned him there with one beckoning finger and a sexy, almost contemplative puckering of her wet-look and deeply red lips, which she then delicately pressed against his bare set. The feeling I get when I make him happy is unique and wonderful. The feeling I get when I know I’m turning him on too is even better. Butterflies, the rider said to herself during the four-second kiss. Her right palm was tentatively held to his cheek, and he turned to smooch it before stepping into the somewhat weirdly laid out and proportioned bathroom. He left the door open and kept talking.

“I think your slowed down schedule has been very good for you, cariña.”

“Yeah?” I’m thirsty, his friend thought, not paying much attention to what he was saying. She spotted the glass of water and headed for bed.

“You’ve been pretty happy, you said your ankle is better, you’re good with André, you have time to read…”

Oh he just wants me to say something about the Schü part. Either refute it, or laugh it away, or whatever. So that he can feel better about it. There’s no way he genuinely feels glad when me and Schü are actually acting like people who adore each other. And we have been. For now. Speaking of… The Nations Cup competitor paused her water gulping to grab her phone and see if André replied to her second goodnight text. They’d already chatted a bit while she was in the car back to the hotel. He took Lukas to see a kids’ movie earlier, and they watched her ride online. Then the tiny Schü had a lengthy bubble bath and the big one did some things on his laptop in the bathroom at the same time. He had dinner with his friend Dom and spent the rest of the night relaxing with his feet up. His individual training program, aimed at getting him really fit again, was kicking his butt. And he wanted that. Being tired was very satisfying. He was pretty okay with his wife having a few days’ playtime in Spain with her friend rather than doing nothing on the couch with him. They’d had plenty of that.

“You’re not setting an alarm, are you?” Juan inquired fearfully when he returned to get in bed beside her.

“Hehhhhhll no. I was just saying night night to Schü. I don’t care when we get up. As long as we get to go to the horchata place, I actually don’t care what else happens tomorrow,” Christina yawned.

“I want to tell you something.” Her favorite Chelsea midfielder mirrored her yawn as he lay down and tried to put his head in her lap. He was perpendicular to her, and had to curl up his legs to fit on the mattress that way. She had to unfold and flatten her legs to accommodate him, and smiled knowingly down at him beyond her phone. It didn’t occur to her in the moment, but it was the first time in a long time that he could make a statement like that and not ignite an inferno of instant anxiety in her stomach.

“Mm?”

“You surprised me tonight.”

“Because I let you feed me unidentifiable seafood?” She put her iPhone down on the nightstand to play with his hair with one hand and rub his chest with the other. One thing she did notice since he got to Barcelona was how fiendish she was for physical contact with him. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so in need with him, and couldn’t find any explanation in a forensic analysis of their time apart. Also, it was very different. The cravings for physical affection with Juan that she could remember were all about laying on him, or him holding her and petting her. Christina was desperate to be the petter.

“No.” He reached up to secure a large chunk of her not-so-sun-highlighted-anymore hair behind her ear when she leaned over him a bit, so that it wouldn’t obscure her face from him. “Because you shrugged off a shit result to have fun with me like it was nothing, and you made me get over the shit result I came to you to forget.”

“You’re easy to have fun with.” The rider offered up a sweet smile with her vibrantly painted lips, and winked with her long and plush matte lashes.

“Beautiful girl.”

“Handsome boy.”

“You know what they say about beautiful girls and handsome boys…”

“No, what?”

“They enjoy anal sex together.”

“I could smother you with a pillow right now and say it was an accident- that I drank too much and accidentally put the pillow on your face, laid on top of it, and passed out.”

“Why do you look so much younger when you change from the sexy armor dress to the big t-shirt?” Juan asked curiously, abandoning the mish-mosh of serious testimony and sarcastic banter. There was no room in the hotel room for a heady conversation about the mood-reversing services they’d provided each other that weekend. It would have been self-defeating. Not taking their failures too seriously felt really, really good. Lifting each other out of regret and disappointment without actually having to talk about it- to use fun and companionship as the method instead of reassuring rhetoric and cuddling through dejection- felt really, really good. “Your face looks different. Maybe because your hair is down.”

“It’s been down all night. I think I’m just cuter in oversized white V-necks,” Christina shrugged. She did flip some hair over and fluff it up though.

“Not cute. Beautiful.”

“Mkay.” A slight blush accompanied her dismissive eye roll. It was no big deal- no rarity- for the Spanish star to call her beautiful. But he seldom did so with such intensity in his gaze, and such conviction in his voice. The genuine article instinctively embarrassed her. He slid his fingers between hers on his chest and squeezed her hand.

“Do you still want to stay at Hotel Juan for Eden’s wife’s birthday?” Some of that intensity eased away with the normal blinking and changing of his expression to go along with asking a question. Christina nodded and kept watching his eyes anyway, because his face was still the best looking thing in the room by miles. “I want you to help me put up some pictures. They’re with the frame shop right now. I don’t know where to hang them yet. You’re good at finding the right place.”

“What kind of pictures?”

“All kinds. Black and white, cityscape, portrait, the colors of the sky…”

“They’re not all of me, are they?”

“No.” Juan shook his head and glanced up and to the left with a sort of pinched frown- a sarcastic rejection of her faux narcissism. She said she was just checking, and acted like her question was entirely logical, not just reasonable. “What do you want to do?” he asked her after further teasing. “Sleep? Movie? Show me any recent pictures and videos of Lukas that you missed from the 300 I saw at dinner?”

“I want to do whatever you want to do. We’ve been doing what I want to do all day, minus that interview. That feels so long ago! This day was like three different days- the pre-horse show stuff, the grand prix and all the BS after, and then our night on the town.” The subtly smiley brunette used her left thumb to push some lighter brown locks up from the hairline right in the middle of Juan’s forehead. That section was styled to stand up a little, and look fuller and more “done” than his everyday no-style style. She always liked it that way, and thought it somehow elongated his face, which was somehow more handsome. The touch was on her mind more than the sight though. I still long for him every day, but lately it’s because I just want to see and hang out with him, and less because I feel like I desperately need him or I can’t cope with whatever I’m coping with. That’s good for both of us, I think. I still miss him like crazy. I miss messing with his hair and holding his hand, not just being safe in his arms, or literally leaning on his shoulder. That’s the difference between when I’m having Schü issues and when me and Schü are pretty happy. I like that. I like that I still really miss being with him. That’s how you know your feelings are real and not just a byproduct of some dependency.

“Okay but what about the birthday? You didn’t answer,” Juan reminded.

“Yes I did! Of course I want to stay at Hotel Juanin.”

“For how many nights do you want to book?”

“I don’t know. Ask me closer to check-in.”

“What is your method of payment?”

“Do you accept kisses?”

“Of course.”

“Do I need to put a deposit down to secure my reservation?” Christina asked with an unavoidable smile.

“That’s the standard policy,” he replied casually before she bent down to smooch his mouth. She couldn’t turn her head enough to match up their lips, so she just kissed him crooked. Once wasn’t enough, evidently. “You have to pay one night up front,” he told her. Without dropping her smirk, she slid down the bed some to get flatter, upsetting the player using her lap as a pillow. He turned over onto his right side and lifted his head to move to her chest instead of her thighs- crucially, close enough to be further paid. Her chin poked out and so did her red, puckered lips. It was a little weird to her to kiss that way- almost flat on her back with just her head and shoulders elevated, and her partner in the kiss practically resting his cheek on her chest. But it was nice too, and it went on for a while- at least long enough for the Spaniard to get into it enough to want to hold her head, and to end up with quite a bit of that Tom Ford “Velvet Cherry” color on his face.

“Aww, you look like Lukas after an icepop,” she laughed when she gently pushed him away to give her neck some relief. The pillow supporting it didn’t do enough to prevent her from feeling like she needed to strain and hold it up the whole time she was smudging lipstick all over him. Juan wiped carefully around his lips with his fingers, and swatted her thumb away when she tried to help.

“How is it that it stays just on your lips? Are you that bad at kissing that you can’t keep yours on mine?”

“Oh, okay, I’m bad at kissing. Sure. Makes sense.” Her chuckles predictably lit up her face and refocused her friend’s attention. His eyes twinkled back at her. Almost there, she commented to herself. Almost to the full, mesmerizing mosaic thing they do. That thing they did always did things to her too. The butterflies that made themselves known in the bathroom doorway flapped their wings a couple of times just to let Christina know they were still awake and aware.

“This is why.”

“Why what?”

“I fall for you every other day I spend with you. This is why I never give up. Angel.”

“You’re adorably in touch with your feelings, Juanin.” Christina couldn’t mirror the Chelsea man’s sincerity. What he said was just too sticky sweet to do anything but make her feel high and kind of silly. Sometimes he says stuff and I just- It’s like pounding a fistful of Pixie Stix and washing the rainbow sugar down with orange soda. She reached out to comb that same section of hair that she was playing with earlier back up straight and tall again and told Juan he was also too adorable not to touch. He sat up and got on all fours for a second so that he could crawl over her in a more sensible position, and then lowered his body down hers, and his face to hers, and his lips to hers. Then her stomach made an unpleasant grumble, followed by a squirting sound, and a lengthy bubbling noise. Rider and footballer both burst into laughter. “It’s your fault!” the former protested. “You’re squishing my tummy and forcing all the air in it to move around!”

“Why is it so full of air!”

“I don’t know. Because you made me eat weird food, probably. Ow!” The Germany anchor winced as her friend accidentally leaned too hard on her right breast and moved a little sideways, taking it with him. He laughed and apologized, and slid down enough to make room for her chest. She let her legs flop open more, completely relaxed and immune to embarrassment about anything her body could do, and immune to caring if anything else hurt. Some of the muscles inside her thigh were not in great shape, and she probably should have been more vigilant about what she asked them to do before stretching, but she just couldn’t care. That was the kind of thing that seemed to change post-Olympics. The very little details that caused small amounts of anxiety or stress to pile up into significant influences were just gone. Coincidentally, the worries about her double life were newly absent too. “You’re really overwhelming for such a small person,” she told the primary pillar of her alternate life, elbows out at the sides of her head the same way her knees were flopped apart so that she could mess with her own hair instead of his. Most of the rest of her body was fully immobilized by the midfielder laying on top of it, either because it was physically smothered or because his presence and his words and his smiles lulled virtually all of Christina into a deep relaxation. Marathon day. Good way to end it, she thought. Can’t move and don’t wanna. No- Wha- Why am I moving, she complained to herself as Juan slid his hands and arms under her back. It actually made for a nice stretching feeling.

“You’re very easily distracted for such a successful person,” he suggested before kissing between her breasts. Her already too big shirt was caught between them and the neckline was getting further stretched out, leaving plenty of access. The player pushed small and tidy smooches on the inside curve of each breast, and some way up her sternum while she questioned what she could possibly have been distracted from. “Weren’t you going to do the thing where you think you’re all seductive and womanly? Isn’t that why you put more lipstick on? Instead you’re all lazy and yawning and laughing at everything.”

“I just put it on for you,” Christina retorted, still kind of laughing. “I didn’t have a plan. I adore not having a plan right now.” Her breathing deepened ever so slightly, but enough to make her chest lift noticeably toward the stimulus. She stretched her arms up over her head too, and really pushed her chest up for the satisfying feeling in her spine. “If we’re having sex, can I turn over first? Asking for my back.”

“It hurts?”

“No. It just wants to arch that way instead of rounding the other. Also I like when you kiss between my shoulder blades more than when you kiss between my boobs.”

“I kiss your boobs for me, not you.”

“Selfish.”

“”Kiss between my shoulders, kiss between my legs, kiss between my butt cheeks”, she says.” The Spaniard smirked at her while subtly squeezing her torso tighter in his arms. “But I’m the selfish one.”

“I have never in my life asked you to kiss between my butt cheeks.”

“Not with words, maybe. But ever since-“

“Shh.” His quasi-partner covered his mouth with her palm and shook her head. I don’t want to hear him talk about the time he did the thing with my butt. Nope. Don’t even want to think about it. Because then I might want him to do it again. “Kiss more. Talk less.”

“Why do you always have to be so difficult, baby girl?” He pretended to be frustrated with her when she removed her hand from his mouth and patted his head, but it was very clear that he enjoyed her particular mood that night. He has that Spain glow turned up to 10 tonight, she giggled in inside. Maybe it’s because there was gold leaf in our dessert.

Thirty minutes later, Christina almost regretted turning over, precisely because of that so-called glow she believed highlighted Juan’s face whenever he was in his home country. She wished she could still see his face instead of her pillow and the headboard. But it was just “almost”, because feeling was better than seeing. Whatever was anatomically different about him from André was no more exposed than when she lay on her stomach with a pillow under her hips and one between her elbows to squeeze or drop her forehead on while Juan kneeled between her legs and moved at what she called “blah” pace. It was actually the tempo he adopted at rest, when he was tired from fucking her harder or at a different angle, or when he was just trying to prolong the experience and not rush through it. He kissed the nape of her neck and around her shoulder blades, and between them the way she talked about earlier, and his palms traveled everywhere they could reach. That steadiest of rhythms was just heaven for the German girl. It was different from the kind of heaven she felt during orgasm, or in the immediate build to one. It was a long-term thing, almost like getting a professional massage. The specific feeling was one she never experienced with anyone else. There was something about him, or something only he ever thought to do. It was wonderful.

“Do you want me to-“

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” the Chelsea creator half-heartedly scolded before tamely biting the top of her shoulder.

“Doesn’t matter,” Christina mumbled back. Her eyes were shut and she let her head hang down between her arms.

“How do you know?”

“Because all I want is this.”

“Too bad.” Juan abruptly separated from his girl, to much whining and complaining, and plopped into the spot beside her that he was reclining in earlier. He held onto her wrists when she sat up to complain further, and used them to help invite her into his lap. “I like to kiss your front too.” He grabbed at more than kissed her left nipple, his lips starting out wide and then drawing together to suck at it as well. Then he suddenly stopped, lifted his head, and squinted at her reddened face. “Are you peeing right now or did I somehow cum without knowing it?”

“Wha?” The rider peered back at him with one eyebrow up and one down. She scratched vigorously at the side of her scalp too, causing her already fluffy hair to fly all over. Her host unceremoniously gripped her butt and tried to lift her up.

“I’m all wet…” Sure enough, there was a glistening wetness all over his thighs, and the part of him that had just been inside her was covered in something the consistency of watered down icing. A section of the white sheet directly between his legs was darkened with wetness.

“That’s just me,” Christina sniggered. I should be embarrassed, probably, but I’m not, she decided after her cheeks threatened to get even redder for just a second. Why should I care if he knows I’m so turned on that I’m producing that stuff by the bucket? Okay gross. Don’t put it that way, Chris, she chided herself. The Spaniard still looked perturbed.

“I didn’t know you got off already.”

“I didn’t. I just really enjoy when-“ She tried to explain herself and evidently did well enough without even getting to the point. He put two hands- one sticky, one not- on her face and leaned forward to kiss her, hard, and dramatically. He kind of snorted at the same time, and pulled her with him when he leaned back against he headboard again. She held the tops of his shoulders for balance, so he let go of her head and palmed her butt instead. That’s twice in as many months that he and I discovered something new about ourselves, sexually, Christina realized. That only happens with him. Schü and I haven’t learned or done anything “new” in years. But we’ve also had a lot more sex, so… Stop it. Stop thinking about that. Enjoy that you’ve just made him absolutely wild just because you’re literally making puddles on him. Just enjoy that. No need to contextualize. Just like there’s no need to contextualize anything else that happened here, like with the horses.

“Angel,” Juan muttered in between mauling her mouth and mauling her neck. He had both arms around her and couldn’t get her close enough for his liking. I like being his angel and I don’t like being in a team with a bunch of nobodies. Both of those things are okay, and they don’t mean anything bigger than that.

0 notes

canaryatlaw · 7 years

Text

Okay, well today was better than yesterday, and I was in a significantly better mood for most of the day, although I'm back to being slightly irked now with no real logical reason (you know, other than the obvious). But yeah. Woke up, ate breakfast (fucking cocoa pebbles not nearly as good as cocoa krispies) and caught the bus to work. Tbh I don't remember that much of what I did for the morning because I kind of ended up napping for a full hour....more on that later, though. I think I was mostly just sourcing stuff and building the timeline for the TPR prep. See, the issue with the sleep thing is like, I can't just push through it. I can't control my eyes closing. And I also can't fucking type. Like it takes me twice as long to type something because every other letter is wrong. I did 30 minutes then tried to get back to work but it wasn't happening so I did another 30 and I can get away with this because I'm an intern and for the most part nobody cares what I do. I took a lunch too because fuck it, I don't care. The interesting assignment of the day came in the afternoon from my boss, she wanted me to watch a VSI (I know I defined that yesterday but I'll be nice and do it again, it's victim sensitive interview) because her computer wasn't sound equipped or whatever and mine was because of the prison calls, lol, so she wanted me to transcribe it verbatim for her. The thing was only 13 minutes long, but obviously took me substantially longer to get through because I can't type on a PC in real time conversation, lol, so I ended up pausing after each line to type it, then generally play it back to make sure I got it right. I ended up with like 13 pages of transcribed notes, so like one per minute of the video. A couple things here. One, I'd never actually watched one of these before, so I didn't really have a context for it. Two, I had no idea what the circumstances were going into this interview- if the girl had made an outcry or what had happened (I'm avoiding giving details for obvious reasons when discussing child sex abuse) but I finished it with the impression that there had been an incident. Then my boss comes back and explains she had read the detective's notes and he said there wasn't gonna be charges and it didn't seem like there was anything there, which of course was not at all what I got from it. Apparently going into it wasn't based on an outcry but a weird hotline call that the little girl had been saying sexually explicit things in school but they unfounded the report as just nothing. So I of course relayed all of this to my supervisor, and she said she'd have to watch it now haha but had my notes as well. So that took me about to the end of my day. I had a 6:30 PT appointment because it was the only one available, and after last week's fiasco I knew there was no way I would make it on time if I took the bus, so I ubered, figuring I should have just enough time to get home, change, and go right back out. Uber was in a price surge so I ended up paying like, double the normal rate (ugh) for it but whatever. I liked the driver a lot, he said I was actually his first customer because this was his first day driving for uber haha so I was like okay, hopefully this will go well! But we started talking and I went into the cases and the reforms that have been populating the news (the more recent child death case that supposedly prompted the DCFS director into reforms that I was ranting about the other day had been pretty widely reported so he brought that one up) and I told him about my case and the ridiculous can't make this shit up facts of it all. And of course we talked the random stuff. We took the street my street is off all the way up because it's pretty much a straight shot, like the bus I take to work and back, except that one goes a few blocks over then shoots down. It had a fair amount of traffic, but I had tried to allocate enough time to make sure it was okay and I arrived at my apartment just at 6:10 which was perfect, I ran in and got changed and did a few other things then came back out at 6:20 to walk over for my 6:30 appointment. While I'm almost there, I get a call from a Long Island number, so I'm like okay, I answer it and it's my psychiatrist that I've been playing phone tag with for two weeks now. Of all the shitty timing!! But I knew because of my mental state lately I did have to have this conversation now, so I ended up standing outside the therapy place on the phone for 15 minutes while motioning to them that I'd been in as soon as possible. It was a good conversation though, I'm glad we had it, and it was definitely necessary. Apparently the deal with the phone tag was the secretary or whoever would take down my message that I needed him to call back, but somehow in there my name got substituted for my mom's, so he ended up calling her repeatedly and trying to figure out what was going on before someone realized OH, it's the daughter who's in Chicago and not Long Island, lol. So that made me feel significantly better than my messages weren't being deliberately ignored. So I told him my exams were over and my anxiety was through the roof, with the Xanax not helping. Then he asked about my sleep, and suddenly the light bulb in my head clicked on and I went OHHHHHHHHHH, YOUR MID MORNING NAPS HAVE BEEN BECAUSE YOUVE BEEN INCREASING YOUR XANAX DOSAGE YOU FUCKING MORON and suddenly that made a lot more sense. He asked some questions about describing the mind racing thing and asked if it was like hyper, and of course I knew where he was going with that so I said it definitely wasn't manic (because it's not) but more just anxiety based. So we ended up swapping out one of my regular meds for what I believe is the generic version of Zoloft, and he said to do whatever with the Xanax since they weren't helping anyway, so I'm gonna cut down on them a lot lol cuz I can't live like this. I do think I was on Zoloft at one point in high school and it wasn't terribly helpful, just one in a long line of antidepressants tried that resulted in a "meh" result, but the circumstances here are fairly different now that I'm on several meds and I have the Wellbutrin to actually treat depression, the Zoloft can potentially help the anxiety, which was definitely not really present in high school or even when I started with my psychiatrist back in 2012 (thanks, law school). I mean, it had started before law school, but that's what's really exacerbated it of course. Hey, it got my brother an OCD diagnosis after 22 years of only ever having super small tics like re-walking out of a room every so often. So hopefully those meds will get things figured out and it'll be better. So I finally got off the phone at 6:40 and of course was now very frustrated because I hate being late, but we just jumped into it instead of doing warm ups so it was fine. I keep getting asked if I'm feeling an improvement in pain, but the answer continues to be about the same, and in fact after PT it almost definitely hurts. It was actually bugging me at work today too, which isn't typical. But we had a good session anyway. Afterwards I walked across the street to Walgreens just because I wanted to grab a type of melatonin I know works for me to use as a control test for the Xanax- to make sure that's the thing that's throwing it off, not being unsure if it's the melatonin. Come home, get some dinner together and start Arrow. I wasn't totally thrilled with the episode given the plot was pretty weak, but it was of course strengthened greatly by the presence of Katie Cassidy and Katrina Law (though I would've liked more than 30 seconds of Katrina). Can I just talk about Katie Cassidy's acting skills though? I'm amazed as to how she's adopted completely different personas to the point where you can tell "who" she's supposed to be just by looking at her- that Laurel, Black Siren, and particularly black siren pretending to be Laurel, but not resembling either in any significant way but an entirely new image. I'm just like damn girl, that's intense. So things are set up for the final battle now, which has to happen on Lian-Yu because everything fucking happens on Lian-Yu, and I'll admit it does seem like it'll be a pretty epic showdown given everyone they've brought in on both sides. Back to that non-existent plot though- like really Oliver? Really??? That had to be the worst plan in existence of plans. You just handed him over and what, expected him to just let everyone go and go skip off into the sunset? Like dude, come on. That was really fucking dumb. So then it's just Oliver and fucking Malcolm, who has somehow managed to stay alive for another season, much to my annoyance. The moment with Nyssa coming in was pretty epic though, but I really hope they told her that besides her sister they were also facing off with E2 Laurel because those two got pretty damn close in season 3 and that could definitely throw her for a loop. Also, why the fuck had they not told Quentin at this point??? Like that was really dumb because you left him super vulnerable to exactly what happened. So yeah, I suppose I'm looking forward to the season finale, mostly for my two homegirls, but hopefully the rest of it will be good too. A tweet on my timeline reminded me that designated survivor was about to come on just as I finished Arrow, so I turned that on to watch live since I knew it was the season finale. Can I just say damn, I love this show so much??! It's so freaking well done in an era of totally overdone dramas, and of course this had the potential to do some incredibly shark jumping being that they blew up the entire government as the premise of the start of the plot. They've handled it really well. I think most of the episode was good and full of action, though I was sad to see Jason is actually dead (I mean, I think we knew he was, it just wasn't formally confirmed). I loved the scene between Kirkman and the reporter, because you can just tell how much respect the reporter gets from him because of how he handled the meeting, and I'm just left thinking whoever handpicked Kirkman as the designated survivor obviously massively underestimated his ability to be an incredible leader of our country. Damn what I would do for him to be our real president right now.....sigh. The speech was great and super satisfying, but I'm also watching the clock because I KNOW they have to leave some sort of cliffhanger disaster to predicate season 2 on, and of course that happened with them basically being like "we're fucked, they're fucked, everyone's fucked" which sounds like a fairly good premise to me. After this I watched Brooklyn 99 which was of course fucking hilarious. After that I got ready for bed, but for some stupid reason when I'm you know on autopilot for my routine I took the morning pills left in my "Tuesday" box instead of the evening pills in the "Wednesday" box (because I refill every Tuesday night) and took the wrong meds, then said well fuck, but my best bet is probably taking the meds I should've taken right now (none that should really interfere with the first) and just skip my morning dosage. And then tomorrow afternoon I can pick up my prescription for my new med so my body is just gonna be a psychopharmacological mess for the next 24 hours but hopefully it won't have any really bad side effects (it really shouldn't) (I'm also very impressed that psychopharmacological is an actual word and I didn't have to just make it up like I normally do when I want to use a form of a word that doesn't exist). Andddd it's past 1 am. I get to arrive at 9:30 tomorrow since we're going straight to a visit, so that'll be nice, assuming I don't fall asleep on the bus again like I did last time 😑. Anyway. Goodnight my little loves. Hope you had the loveliest of hump days.

#daily journal #May 2017 #Rachel watches Arrow

0 notes