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randomshyperson · 2 years

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Mystery Club - Chapter Seven - Wanda Maximoff x Reader Series

Summary: Returning to your hometown five years after leaving everything behind, including your best friend, is no easy feat. Getting involved in a secret club wasn't in the plans either. Or the one based on Life is Strange.

Warnings: (+18) high school au, best friends to lovers, mild/heavy angst mentions with happy happing, use of legal substances (alcohol, marijuana), violence, verbal aggression, explicit language, smut, triggers regarding sexual assault, mentions of death, grieving, hints of depression and anxiety, panic attacks, a lot of domesticity.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad || Series Masterlist

--//--

Chapter Seven - The Bonfire

Wanda was sleeping deeply face down on your bed.

She must have been tired. After yesterday's revelations, she cried herself to sleep. You drove back to the dormitory, while she cried in the passenger seat, and then you took her to your bed, where she tried to pretend that she had managed to stop while sobbing low into the pillow.

Your classes were starting soon, but you weren't very willing to leave her all alone. Not after what you had discovered together yesterday. The red grades on your report card encouraged you to think it over.

Leaving a note on the nightstand, you left the room as quietly as you could, ignoring the way your heart was tightening.

Neither Chemistry nor Literature stuck in your mind very well during the morning, while you knew that Wanda was feeling miserable in your room. Nor did the presence of Yelena Belova next to you, who didn't know the truth about the death of her best friend.

You skipped History period and went back to the dorm, and were surprised to find Wanda watching television.

"Hey, you're still here." You almost jumped with excitement, and Wanda offers you a tired smile, staring at you as you closed the door. "Are you hungry? We can buy something..."

"Come here, detka." She interrupts gently, and you drop your backpack on the floor to join her on her bed. Wanda adjusts the blanket to cover you as well, and you sigh as you lie down beside her. Wanda turns to look at you, resting her face in her folded hands as you do. "Sorry about yesterday, I didn't mean to scare you."

You knew she was talking about your basically panicking crisis about everything that was happening. The way you couldn't help her stop crying.

You smiled small, moving one of your hands to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"You don't have to apologize for anything." You assure, moving your hand to her cheek. You smooth the skin, and when you notice an almost invisible bruise, you frown slightly. "What...?"

"I had a fight with Charles. I provoked him, it wasn't his fault." She declares quickly. It takes a moment for you to understand, but as soon as you do, you tense up immediately. You pull your hand away and start to stand up.

"Did he hit you, Wanda? For God's sake, I'm going to-"

"No, you won't. Come back here." She interrupts you, grabbing your blouse and pushing you back onto the bed with a hard tug. With your resistance, she climbs on top of you. "Stay here with me, please."

"But Wanda, that's not right. He can't-"

"I know." She cuts in, hands on your shoulders. You swallow dryly, looking up, aware of the way your hips are connected. "But I think he'll get what he deserves with the whole my dad thing. Can we focus on something else?"

You swallow dryly, nodding. Wanda smiles, leaning in to kiss you. It's very quiet, at first. Affectionate.

Wanda traces a finger over your cheek as her mouth presses on yours, and you caress her thighs.

But soon, the room fills with the sounds of gasping sighs because your tongues are sliding together and Wanda has begun to grind against your stomach, and your hands squeezing your hips don't help her control her breathing.

The make-out session slows down in intensity, because you don't think that's what Wanda needs right now, even though she grunts impatiently at the way you've changed the pace, and you're using all your mental control to lay her down on the bed and back off a little.

"We need to talk about yesterday." You whisper once the hot kisses have stopped, and Wanda opens her eyes at you. She kisses your cheek and sits up, pushing her messy hair back. You sit facing her, one hand on her thigh. "I'm sorry-"

"I won't stop, Y/N." She interrupts with a determined look. You frown in confusion. "I knew my brother better than anyone, he didn't use drugs."

"But Wanda, the result-"

"I know." She cuts in with a sad laugh, "I'm not saying it was fake. But I had time to think about it this morning. That stupid party happened at the beginning of the game season. And Pietro was an athlete. He couldn't use drugs, because he wouldn't pass any anti-doping test if he did."

You blink in surprise, and Wanda sighs lightly, hugging one of your knees. "What do you want to find out?"

She swallows dryly, shrugging. "Who drugged my brother of course."

"But what if he experimented, Wanda? What if it was an accident-"

"Then I'll let it go." She retorts with another sad laugh, "But that's the point, Y/N. I don't know what happened. Until yesterday, he drowned. And I thought it was ridiculous because you taught us how to swim like damn professionals. And I was right to be suspicious, wasn't I?" She comments bitterly. "Fuck, that's so messed up. How could my dad hide this from me for so long?"

You pull her to you, and Wanda goes willingly, sniffling lightly against your collarbone. "I'll help you with whatever you need, you can count on me."

She smiles against your skin, pulling away to give you a long kiss on the lips, before getting up.

"I'll go prepare our mission, for now, we'll just think about other things." She declares, and you watch her walk over to your fridge.

You bite back a smile as Wanda bends over, her ass in the air toward you. Your cheeks flush, and you look up at the ceiling, lying down on the bed.

"Your house is likely to be a mess when Erik finds out. You can stay with me if you need to, I'd be happy to know you're away from Charles." You comment still looking up at the ceiling, and miss the way Wanda looks at you fondly.

Suddenly she is back in your lap. "What time is your next class?" She whispers as she leans in, her hands finding yours and intertwining atop your head.

"A-actually I'm skipping one..." You stutter affectedly, and Wanda smiles mischievously.

"How naughty." She whispers before kissing you and sliding her tongue into yours when you open your mouth to breathe.

–//–

Whatever Wanda was up to find out who had given Pietro Maximoff drugs kept her busy during the day.

It had been two weeks since you two discovered the truth about his death, and tonight, after Wanda snuck out onto your balcony with the excuse that she came to see if you were studying properly when in fact all she wanted to do was making out against the balcony, she invited you to the club bonfire.

"That sounds so adorable!" You commented with puffy lips and out-of-pace breathing, and Wanda swallowed dryly, enjoying your firm hands around her waist. "Do I have to take anything?"

"Just that pretty face of yours." She flirted, feeling you chuckle shyly against her lips as she kissed you next.

You still had to go back inside to get your shoes, but it didn't take long for you and Wanda to slip out over the balcony to her car.

Once she started driving, your hand firmly on her thigh, you asked, "How has it been at home, Wands? Has Erik told the truth yet?"

She swallows dryly, hesitating for a second. "I haven't told you one thing, because I didn't want you to be worried." She declares, and you immediately look at her doubtfully. "I left my house."

You widen your eyes. "Wanda, what? When-"

"The day Charles hit me." She clarifies. "I just grabbed my stuff and left."

You pull your hand away, looking at her incredulously. "Wanda that was weeks ago! Where the hell are you living? What-"

"Calm down, I'm fine!" She assures you, parking on the side of the road before she causes an accident. You look at her with annoyance. "Hey, I'm sorry. For yelling, and not telling you. I didn't mean to worry you."

You sigh deeply. "Where are you living?"

She smiles sadly. "At the club, of course."

"Damn it, Wanda." You grunt, placing a hand on your forehead. She smiles, extending her hand to yours.

"Don't worry, there's everything I need there." She assures you, but you swallow dryly.

"You could have moved in with me..." You retort stubbornly, and Wanda laughs lightly.

"Well, waking up with you by my side is incredible, but hiding out to take a shower isn't very comfortable." She reasons, and you sigh, knowing she's right. "I'm fine, Y/N. I promise. Headquarters has everything I need."

"Do your dads know?"

Wanda laughs, shrugging. "They must think I'm staying with some friend. None of them bothered to look for me."

"That is so fucked up." You complain upset, and Wanda nods.

"I know, but it is what it is." She says. "Who cares about them? I have you."

Your cheeks turn pink, but you smile at her, leaning in a little. "You have. Forever." You retort, kissing her. Wanda smiles against your lips, caressing your wrist.

"Come on detka, I don't want you to miss bonfire night." Wanda whispers between one kiss and another, and you have to laugh low because she holds you tightly by your blouse with her other hand. Next thing you know, she steals another hard kiss before letting go.

–//–

Rachel really did a good job - the place was beautiful. On the beach, there were armchairs and tables with food, and in addition to the bonfire, she also organized outdoor lighting fixtures.

You had a lot of people to greet that night - everyone who didn't know you personally yet who came for bonfire night - and Wanda was happy to watch you from a distance, saving a spot near the fire.

America and Kamala were able to gain a presence in the place after you assured Rachel that they were trustworthy, and after everything that happened in Wanda's family, she highly doubted that Dean would have the courage to implicate the club now that she knew the truth.

It was no longer such a secret that the mystery club existed, but all the rules were kept for fun.

Jean Grey came over to greet you with a kiss on the cheek, and Wanda thinks that was enough of a greeting, signaling for Rachel to call everyone to sit down soon.

You were still laughing at Anna and Jean's interaction when you sat down, but your laughter turned into a surprised sigh when Wanda kissed you with need.

You broke off with a gasping giggle. "What was that for?"

She stared at you with dark eyes - for the poor lighting or for lust, you don't know.

"Nothing, I just wanted to. You look fucking beautiful when you're laughing."

Your cheeks burn, and you smile wryly. "Wands, what's gotten into you?" you question embarrassed, putting an arm around her shoulder. She snuggles into you, her lips brushing your neck making you think it wasn't a good idea to choose that position for your sanity.

"Nothing, just complimenting my best friend." She teases, biting a spot behind your ear and you exclaim softly, blushing heavily for the audience. No one seems to care about the display of affection, wrapped up in finding seats and grabbing food. Still, you adjust a little.

"Behave yourself. You're making me all flushed." You ask clumsily, feeling Wanda chuckle against your collarbone. She comes closer but respects your request.

It doesn't take long for everyone to sit around, and a loud, joint exclamation of celebration begins as they bring in a guitar.

Many songs are played, and even you are invited to join in trying to lead the whole thing, but it's been so long since you've practiced guitar that you'd rather leave it to the girl next to you.

"That's sad, Y/N, I spent so many nights teaching you. They didn't have guitars in England?" Wanda teases affectionately, and you laugh rolling your eyes, watching her like the rest of the club, put the instrument in your lap.

"I guess I just missed the teacher." You retort, and she smiles at you, only looking away as the group boos at the puppy dog stares, teasing you both.

"Okay, okay, what do you guys want to hear?" She asks, drawing in several suggestions at once that make you laugh. "I guess it's up to me, then."

As the first notes of 'i can't help falling in love’ begin, teasing giggles circulate around you that only increase the redness in your face.

Wanda licks her lips before she starts to sing, and you swallow dryly when she stares at you. Her voice is husky and you still remember how she used to sing to you years ago, and you can't help the way your heart races.

The club joins in the music, and so do you, mentally thankful that the attention is no longer on you completely.

After this one, Wanda plays two more before leaving the guitar in the corner, and it gets too late for the underage members to stay around.

When only the veterans are present, and Rachel has already left after repeating that the last one closes the headquarters, Jean asks about the past.

"Tell us about it, Y/N, since Wanda won't. How did the club originate?" It's meant to be harmless, but you still feel Wanda tense up a bit against you. Your arm, around her, gently caresses her.

"It came out of a joke between me and Pietro, Jean, it was nothing spectacular." You reply vaguely, not wanting to prolong Wanda's discomfort.

Jean, who has had a few too many beers and has no bad intentions, presses the issue.

"I never understood why Pietro had to restore the club. Did you guys fight or something?"

You chuckle awkwardly, shaking your head. "No, it was nothing like that." You say, looking at Wanda for a moment. She smiles small, nodding like permission for the story, and you turn your gaze back to the fire. "It was a TV story, actually. Do you guys remember how the Stark Power Plants closed down out there?"

The staff exchanged glances, and it was Lena Luthor who commented:

"An anonymous complaint about environmental pollution."

You raised your hand in the air. "Guilty." You joked, and the group let out exclamations of shock and surprise.

"Really? Against your own family?" Lena retorted, more in shock than anything, and you swallowed dryly, looking away.

"Yeah, well, it was the right thing to do." You muttered, taking a deep breath to gather courage. "Before, the mystery club was just the mystery trio. Me, and the Maximoff twins, causing trouble around town. It was a sketch of everything you guys are now. And well, one day I took the mysteries into my dad's office and ended up figuring it all out with my friends."

"It was the right thing to do." Wanda repeats, sliding her hand into yours for reassurance. You smile at her, and the staff murmurs in agreement. Wanda looks at them. "People got sick. You guys probably knew someone, especially if you had familiarised who worked in the industries."

Some agreed, Scott was one of those who said he will lose his older brother to advanced, unexpected cancer four years ago. Wanda nodded.

"Doing the reporting was the right thing, but that doesn't mean it was an easy decision." Wanda explains. "Besides being Y/N's family, a lot of people were going to lose their jobs. When we decided to turn in the evidence, we also decided that club would end."

"But Pietro brought it back after I left." You continue the story sadly. "He wanted something to remember me by. And now I'm here, and he's not." You sniffle lightly, shaking your head. "I'm sorry."

Wanda swallows dryly, holding your hand tightly. The staff exchanges glance and Jean is the first to speak.

"I didn't know him very well, but if he did that for you, he must have cared a lot." She comments. "Maybe, now that we're not so secretive, you could get his friends together at the club again. For a decent farewell now that you're here."

You give a tearful laugh, nodding. "I'll think about it, Jean, thank you."

She offers you and Wanda a kind smile, and after that, it doesn't take long for the staff to start saying goodbye. Wanda, who was now living at headquarters, was going to lock up.

You helped her clean things up and take it inside.

"Sorry about earlier." You mutter as you fold a towel, and she frowns in confusion. "Bringing Pietro back on topic. I know you don't like to talk about it."

Wanda sighs, moving closer. "Don't apologize, detka." She says, bringing a hand to her cheek. "Sometimes, and I apologize for this, I forget how much you loved him too. How important he was to you because we were twins and it's very painful for me to bring it up. But I know how much you cared, and I want you to know that if you need to cry about it with me, you can. I understand your pain more than anyone."

You sniffle lightly, raising a hand to hers to your cheek and offering her a tearful smile.

"Thank you, Wands." You whisper, turning your face to kiss her palm.

She went back to cleaning up after smiling at you, and a moment after putting away all the towels, you asked:

"Did you get anything on our secret investigation?"

Wanda chuckles at the name, putting away empty bottles for recycling.

"Only dead ends, honey, I'm sorry." She mutters annoyed. "I didn't realize how difficult tracking drugs in that school would be."

You were about to say it was okay, that you could find something else when you heard a noise in the commode behind you.

Leaning your body to see through the entrance to the kitchen and living room, you and Wanda faced Jean Grey who had just tripped over a tin can.

"S-sorry, I forgot my scarf." She reasons grabbing the item perched on the armchair. Seeing the way Wanda looked infuriated, she quickly says, "I didn't hear anything!"

"Go home, Jean." Wanda order seriously, and the redhead swallowed dryly, turning around. But she took only two steps.

"I didn't hear anything, but if I had, I'd say that if anyone wanted to track drugs at our school they'd need to get into one of the RedRoom parties."

You and Wanda frown in confusion. You step forward. "What are you talking about?"

Jean turns to you again, her hands working to put on her scarf.

"Sometimes I forget there are only nerds in this club." Jean muttered, not intimidated by the impatient expression of the brunette next to you. "RedRoom, the fraternity? They throw the best parties in the state?"

Wanda steps forward. "The institute only goes to high school..." She tries to ration, but Jean cuts her off with a chuckle.

"Do you think anyone cares about that? No, Wanda, they don't. Westview University is half an hour away from Institute, they practically share a campus. Not to mention that the vast majority of us are going to study there anyway. When the RedRoom people throw parties, they only care if you'll be paying and not with ID."

You swallow dryly. "What about the drugs?"

Jean sighs, knotting her scarf. "I don't use it, so I don't know any sellers. But if there are drugs at the Institute, they circulate at these guys' parties. There's no other place because the Dean is crazy about that stuff."

Wanda exchanges a look with you, before looking at Jean again. "And how do we get into one of the parties?"

Jean smiles, putting her hands in her pockets. "I think the next one is Halloween, but I have no idea where it's going to be. Only the club members know the place. Maybe Y/N can find out, since that friend of hers, Yelena, is part of RedRoom."

Your stomach sinks. "W-what?"

Jean shrugs, turning her head back when she hears Scott honking the car's horn.

"Good luck to you both, and again, I didn't hear anything." Jean says before leaving.

–//–

Wanda turns off the car, but you don't get out. She drove you back to the Institute, and you were locked in your head the whole way. Imagining the mental conflict, she doesn't disturb you.

You speak up before she does. "Wands, be honest with me."

Wanda frowns, adjusting herself in her seat. "Okay."

You stare at her. "Do you think there is the slightest chance that Yelena gave Pietro drugs?" The brunette sighs, looking away thoughtfully. You swallow dryly. "She's my friend, but so was Pietro. And I don't know what to think-"

Wanda interrupts you, placing a hand on your shoulder. "No, detka. I don't think so. Yelena would never do something like that. She hates those things, you know? Because of her father."

You gasp with relief, your mind clearing. It was true. Yelena hated this kind of thing, how could you forget?

"Fuck, you're right." You mutter, and Wanda hums, fingers moving to the hair on the back of your neck. You put your hand over your face for a moment, calming yourself, and Wanda licks her lips before speaking again.

"Do you remember how you found out about the club? With the recruitment letter?"

You frown at the change of subject but quickly nod. "Yeah, the letter in Kate's closet."

Wanda moves her hand from your neck to yours hands. "I didn't pick Kate for no reason." She begins to explain. "One person pulled my brother out of the river, Y/N. And it wasn't the police. It was Clint Barton."

You widen your eyes. "W-what...?"

"He's head of the archer club, and Kate is his apprentice. Clint, like everyone else that day, doesn't like to talk about it, as well as being kind of a jerk. I wanted Kate in the club so she could find out more about that day from him."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

Wanda shrugs. "I want to tell you everything, so we can work together." She explains, stroking your hand with her thumb. "I really... trust you."

Your chest heated with affection. You gasp slightly, resting your forehead on hers. "Wanda, I trust you too."

She smiled, breaking the distance between your faces, and you reciprocated in the same instant, kissing her sweetly and goodbye.

As you parted, half breathlessly, she gave an affected laugh.

"I think we need to find some Halloween costumes kind of an urgently, sweetheart."

You laughed too, kissing her on the mouth before removing your seat belt. "You take care of the costumes and I'll find out where the party's going to be, what do you think?"

"It's a deal." Wanda retorts, grabbing the collar of your blouse as you make mention of getting out of the car. She kisses you until you gasp, and let's go, pushing you gently. "Get out now or I won't let you go." She warns affectedly, and you blush with a shy chuckle before getting down and closing the car door.

–//–

You could be cool about it. Totally cool.

"What's up, Yelena?" Your greeting made her frown, raising her confused gaze from the calculus book she had in hand to your anxious arrival.

She was in a secluded corner of the dormitory garden, sitting on a towel, clearly not wanting to be disturbed, especially since you knew that subject had been particularly difficult for her.

Yet, here you were.

"Hi, Y/N, are you all right?" She asked watching you curiously, because you were visually nervous, not knowing what to do with your hands.

"Yeah, sure! Everything's great, spectacular." You mumbled awkwardly, managing a confused laugh.

"Okay... what can I do for you?"

You swallowed dryly, gathering courage. "If I wanted to go to a party, hypothetically, would you know of any?"

Yelena gave another confused laugh. "What?"

You grunted. "A Halloween party? Would you know of any...?"

Yelena raised an eyebrow, opening her mouth to say she was kind of busy when someone approached you.

It was Natasha, and she tossed the keys into Yelena's lap. "Here, parshivets. And give them back to me before tomorrow." Warns the redhead would be, before smiling at you as Yelena rolled her eyes and put the keys away in her pocket. "Hey, Y/N, how are you?"

"Hi, Nat." You greet awkwardly. "It's okay, I was just asking Yelena something."

"And I didn't understand any of this Halloween party stuff." Yelena retorts and you are ready to say it doesn't matter when Natasha lets out a nasal laugh.

"Wow, so you heard about that? May I ask who told you?" Natasha inquires at you, eyeing you suspiciously.

You swallow dryly. "I-I just heard some rumors, nothing major..."

Natasha laughs, pushing your shoulder lightly. "Look at your face! I'm just messing with you! She's talking about the RedRoom Halloween party, Lena, pay attention, for god's sake."

Yelena lets out a sound of compression, grabs the book, and lays back down. "You could have just said so, Y/N."

"Sorry..." You mutter in shame, scratching at the back of your head.

Natasha tosses her hair over her shoulders. "Are you going to show up?"

You shrug. "I could. If I had the address."

Nat bites her lips, looking you up and down. "Are you bringing someone?"

You chuckle awkwardly. "If I can, I'd take Wanda."

Nat lets out a disappointed grumble and turns her face to her sister. "You didn't even invite your friend, Lena?"

Yelena rolls her eyes, covering her face with her book. "I wasn't going to invite my friend to a party I'm not going to."

Nat sighs impatiently. "I swear Lena, one of these days you're going to get kicked out of the sorority." Complained Natasha, ignoring Yelena's low grumble that this would be a dream, before pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. "I'll text you the address, Y/N. Wear something nice, they have a costume contest worth money. And if you're going to take your angry girlfriend, keep her well-behaved."

You forced a smile, biting your lip to keep from retorting that Wanda wasn't a dog because Natasha was going to give you what you needed.

She sent you the address and turned her attention back to Yelena. "Again, Lena, don't forget to return my keys. If I get locked out, I'll end you."

"Bloody hell, I just wanted to study..." Yelena complains to the pages, but Nat only offers you a wink before leaving.

You don't disturb your friend anymore that afternoon.

On your way back down the hall to your afternoon classes, you send Wanda the address.

She replies to you with happy emojis, and before you can put your cell phone away, she sends another message.

'Got our costumes.' That was the caption, but the picture took your breath away completely. Wanda was in the dressing room of a store, wearing a black dress with considerable cleavage down her torso, as well as a slit that allowed you to see much of her thigh.

You hit your head hard on the door between the halls.

"Jesus, are you okay?" A passing girl helped you up, looking at you like you were drunk, as did a few other students passing by at the time.

Forcing a smile at her by lying that you were, you walked away toward your locker, massaging your forehead where you had hit it.

"Thanks, I think I had a stroke. The school thinks I'm nuts now." That's what you text back, a grumble of pain escaping.

Wanda sends a little angel emoji.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #Mystery Club

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buckys-black-dress · 3 years

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go green

a/n: feeding u children w a lil somethin before i put out pt 6 of afl and another frat!buck piece! sorry i've been a lil mia, i was very much so having a crisis bc someone i see everyday got covid (dw i'm vaxxed & neg tho!) so now all my friends are in qtine :( anyways, without firther ado... here is high!frat!bucky! this is your content warning that drugs such as marijuana is a heavy theme in this piece, and so is sex (penetrative). if this makes you uncomfy (or if ur a minor), please tap off! love, ali xoxo

wc: 1.3k words

Listen, it hadn't been your idea to take these edibles. But you and Bucky were enjoying a rare night in. No party, no obnoxious friends to bother you two. Your roommate had decided she would be spending the weekend at her boyfriend's place, so what better time than the present?

Your apartment is lit by the dim glow of a few lamps and smaller lights scattered, but the aura is calm and relaxed.

You've only gotten high a few times from your time in college, but year two is coming to a close and you've never been high with Bucky.

He does smoke occasionally, and you usually have to take care of his aloof messes during his little stints with Sam and Tony.

"Okay, so you're just gonna have a few of these candies, or I have a brownie. Up to you, sweetheart." Bucky lets you choose your edible of choice, and he eats whatever you didn't want.

You're sitting practically in his lap, and while your movie is playing, but it's becoming harder and harder for you to focus on the actual plot.

"Babe, I barely feel anything. Should I eat some more?" You begin, but as you lean forward out of his hold, your body catches up with your mind.

"Woah, nevermind. Don't need any more." You snuggle back into his arms and look up at him.

Bucky's looking back down at you with a dopey grin, no doubt from the weed coursing through his system right now. But you're also way too far gone to notice anything.

"I love you so much, Y/N." He all but mumbles. Bucky's mouth is practically on yours.

"Baby, I love you too. More than you know." You respond, and you feel yourself falling deeper and deeper into the pit of your intoxication. All you can see is the slight red swirled with the blue of his eyes, and you can't even look away for a second.

"Out of all the girlfriends I've had, you're my favorite." He says, and you shake with laughter.

A snort escapes from you, which triggers a laugh from Bucky.

"Way to," you wheeze, "way to make a girl feel special, baby." You can't keep in your giggles, and when Bucky tries to stand up while still picking you up, you're convinced you're going to wet your pants.

"You're gonna drop me!" You drag out the last word, but Bucky's soon placing you down on the kitchen counter.

"'M hungry." You state, pouting like a child.

"I know, doll. 'S why I brought your cute ass in here. Without droppin' ya." Bucky emphasizes his last words, and you both let out a big laugh.

"I was kidding, babe." You fake pout, your lips jutted out. Bucky leans over your frame with hands on both sides of your thighs and gives you a quick peck. He reaches into the cabinet behind your head to open, instead hitting your head with it.

"Ow! Baby, what the hell?" You're now both doubled over in laughter, your hand holding onto your head.

"S-Sorry, sweetheart. Was tryin' ta get the chips, but-" Bucky's laugh cuts off the rest of his defense, and you can't help but keep giggling with him.

His head is rested on your shoulder, the both of you still laughing while he feeds you said chips.

After a few minutes, you look at him in silence.

"Water, please, baby?" You ask with the sweetest face you could muster at the moment, and Bucky's already filling you up a glass.

"Ah, thank you, baby. Love you so much." You repeat to him again. Bucky had remembered you telling him about how you were an affectionate person while high, and it was definitely showing right now.

"Love ya more, sweetheart. Couldn't love anyone as much as I love you." He replies.

"No one? Not even Steve?" You ask, letting a chortle out.

"Hey, that's not fair, he's like my brother." He pouts, and now it's your turn to kiss it away.

"I know, lovie." You smile. Your hand is stroking his face and his hair, relishing in his beautiful, soft hair.

"Your hair is so soft. How do you get it this soft?"

"Babe, you ask me this every time you touch my hair. You bought me my conditioner." Bucky rolls his eyes in fake annoyance, and leans in to kiss you again.

As his mouth is molding against yours, you feel nothing short of floating. The air around you doesn't exist, nothing does; except for your perfect boyfriend who's kissing you right now with everything he has in him.

"Mm, baby, bed?" He asks between kisses, and you just respond with a fervent nod.

He hoists you up once again, and you're laughing, again.

"Don't drop me." You echo your previous words in a singsong voice.

In a moment's notice, Bucky's already pushed you into two walls before dropping you on your bed.

"You have horrible high coordination." You're both laughing as he climbs on top of you and kisses down your neck.

"Hey, hey, I gotcha here in one piece, right?" He defends himself, and you laugh in response.

He's working on removing your shorts and sweatshirt, which is already a large task. Bucky's hands get tangled in your lacy underwear, which you found to be the most hilarious thing ever at the moment.

"Baby, it- it's not funnnyyyy." Bucky's giggling gets you laughing even harder, but eventually, you're both naked.

"Condom?" He asks, your neck being littered with bruises.

"Mm, nightstand." You point, and he fumbles for a bit and lets his body drop onto yours.

"B- Bucky," you all but yell and howl.

"One sec!" He's up and rolling the condom onto his hard length, which he's also having trouble with.

"Don't laugh at me!" His indignation is clear when you put the back of your hand over you mouth to suppress the laugh.

"Just, get over here."

Bucky's frame is on top of you again, but now you're way too excited to think any further.

"You want it, baby? Yeah? Use your words for me." He tells you, and you feel a rush of wetness between your thighs.

"P-Please, baby, want you inside of me." You tell him, and all you can hear is a groan from him. He gently slides inside of you, and you feel like your mind is about to explode.

"Oh, oh my God!" You let out a moan at the feeling of the slow, deep stroked that Bucky's taking.

"Thas' my girl, makin' me feel so damn good," Bucky's deep, raspy voice is in your ear, and it's about to drive you over the edge.

"Please, faster baby." You plead, and Bucky's moan tells you just how good he's also feeling.

Your stomach feels like it's been filled up, Bucky's thickness making you clench around him just to feel him properly.

But when you feel Bucky's hand reach down between you two, and his ministration of "C'mon, sweetheart, come for me. Let me feel your tight pussy come around my cock."

With his words, you reach possibly the best orgasm of your entire life. You feel Bucky also coming, but you feel like you're laid on a cloud. Like you're floating. All you can see is white, and your brain has gone absolutely fuzzy at the feeling that Bucky's stirred up inside you.

After a few minutes, you come back down onto Earth when you feel Bucky pull out. He ties up the condom and tosses it into the bin, and he's holding you on top of his chest.

"You okay, baby?" He's petting your hair and sees your eyes are still not focused.

"Mhm." Is all you can manage, and Bucky's pulling on some boxers while he slips on one of his shirts over your frame.

"G'night, my love." He pecks your forehead, turning off the lamp and pulling your blanket over the both of you.

When you drift into the best sleep of your life, all you can think is, 'we are so doing that again.'

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #college!bucky #college!au #boyfriend!bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #boyfriend bucky #i wanna get high with him so bad #bucky one shot #frat!bucky x reader #frat!bucky #frat!au #high!bucky

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caffeinated-chaos-bean · 3 years

Text

Mid-2021 Blog Update

Hey guys.

So... It’s been a while. Quite a while... and I want to lay some things out as to why I’ve been gone and the blog has practically been dead in the water for half a year, if not for a whole year.

I want you to know that what I’m going to say will be in heavy detail. I’m comfortable speaking on it, and what information doesn’t just include me will be using either public details that I know I can share or will be put in a short and sweet manner.

This is your trigger warning: If you need to click off or scroll past due to the mention of extremely bad mental health, toxic relationships and households, the mention of depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts, please do so now.

. . .

First off, I’ve lessened the amount of time I’ve been online due to my mental health. I was put on antidepressants as well as told to take anti-anxiety gummies in November and will be weaned off of those starting this October. A lot of my family and relationship drama on top of the world practically shutting down and going into chaos thanks to COVID-19 just took a major toll on me. With so much on my shoulders, stress from living with said things on my shoulders, unsupportive family members, and an emotionally distant partner, I was at one of the lowest points in the life. I’d never had to be on mood-related medication in my life until last November. I’d always been able to handle what was thrown at me, but mid- to late-2020 was what knocked me down that low for the first time in my life. Suicidal thoughts came and went (they weren’t often, only when I couldn’t bottle my emotions up any longer but didn’t have a way to express them either), but even when they did, I knew that it was just in my head. I never once chose to act on them, because to me, that is not a way to solve a problem or escape your inner demons. All it does it put your personal suffering onto those around you -- your friends, family, and those who cared about you even when you don’t see it -- and it doesn’t do anyone any good. When my doctor asked me about suicide, that’s the very explanation I gave her. Yes, they happened, but I’d never act on them; it’s not a way out and it puts your pain onto others and only worsens the situation for the long-term.

Aside from that, though... I move on to other personal reasons for my absence that helped trigger what was mentioned above. Mid-August of 2019, my then fiancé's mother was murdered by two 17yr old boys of whom she and their family knew. Going off the information that was made public, one boy had mixed meth with marijuana prior to the killing. He claimed that my fiancé’s mother mouthed off and made a derogatory comment about his deceased mother, thus sparking the incident. While he claims to have only stabbed her once, the autopsy report shows that her head/face and upper torso were “hacked, slashed, and chopped” repeatedly with “various sharp, bladed objects”. Not only did they murder her, the two individuals also set the grass around her body on fire along with her home. When we found out about this having happened, I had no idea how bad it would have turned my relationship upside-down. My now ex-fiancé didn’t come from a great childhood, there was abuse and CPS, among other things. But he had managed and was a good person. He could make me laugh and tear up at his jokes, sang beautifully, and did everything to make those around him happy. When he lost his mom, it broke him. It shattered his very being, because not only did he know the two who caused it to happen, he also was unable to reconcile and make amends with his mother for what he went through as a child. He was robbed of being able to forgive and be on good terms with her, and it broke him. He stopped communicating with family, he took bereavement after being pulled from work by family the day it was confirmed to be his mother only to to fired 3 months down the line when he tried to go back (fuck Walmart for that btw), and was slowly becoming a hypochondriac. He stopped talking to me, he would cry in his sleep, and grief made him lash out as was expected. But as the days dragged on, his motivation and care towards finding a new job dwindled. He and my mother would fight endlessly and I was caught in the middle of it, as we all were in one household. There were times in which I would keep my phone on my leg and record for my own personal documentation should I need it due to how bad my own mother would belittle me, belittle my ex behind his back, and just scream and go off. When I’d turn to my ex for comfort, he wasn’t much help due to his own deteriorating mental health. He took to discord, specifically the Vampire the Masquerade community, as his escape from reality. He eventually would hardly talk to me at all, show no compassion, and at times I tried to speak with him about getting a new job or suggesting part-time ones that I felt would be easy and as stress-free as possible for him, I would be shooed away without a word; if I tried to further my attempt to have the conversation, he eventually got an attitude and would just say “Bye!” over and over again while shooing with his hand to get me to leave. There were many days where I’d get off work and sit in the bathroom for an hour and cry because of my frustration and how I felt stuck between two people I cared about deeply (ie. my ex and my mother).

My ex has since moved out and no longer lived with us. He and I are no longer together, and he has cut off all communication to me along with his family. He isn’t living in California anymore, really. He met up with discord friends and is in another state. That’s the last I heard from him. That’s the last his family heard. He doesn’t talk to us or attempt to reach out or respond when his family reaches out. I still very much care about him and want him to get better, but if he has to do so by being away from everyone, then so be it.

While I was letting - or shutting out, rather - the emotions I was feeling once he officially moved out, I relapsed with my anxiety tick; with my trichotillomania. I have a good number of smaller, thinned out spots in my hair from unconsciously pulling out strands of hair when my emotions didn’t know how to regulate. I’m still fighting to get this under control, as I do still catch myself doing it and so does my mother. It currently is not as bad as when my ex first moved out and I had to adjust back into sleeping alone and without someone next to me, but I do still pull. I am looking into trying to get my sister to order me a HabbitAware bracelet for me this Christmas in order to help get my tick back under control. I know its something I will live with forever and go in and out of doing, as there is no cure or medication to curb trichotillomania, but its something to help me be more aware of how often I do pull and to train it to no longer be a muscle memory response.

Most recently, I’ve had to stop taking melatonin. I’ve had bouts of insomnia since my ex left, and eventually I took enough melatonin to not only build an immunity to it but also a slight dependence. I was taking more than I should have been, and I noticed the signs of it and have stopped taking melatonin altogether. Due to this, I have switched to hempseed oil gummies. I take 2 before bed and they have helped wonderfully. But, due to how easy it was for me to become dependent on melatonin, I do plan to take brief breaks from the gummies to avoid a similar situation. I also do not plan on seeking an insomnia medication due to the same reasons. I knew what I was doing was wrong and I knew i was becoming addicted, and due to this I do not wish to risk it happening with a prescription sleep medication. I will deal with my bouts of insomnia as they come.

I also am conquering my insecurities towards others knowing I am a fan of Michael Jackson; a moonwalker. In elementary school (5th grade, 2009), I went through a heavy obsessive phase when he passed. I’d never heard of him, and when I listened to his music that firs time I was instantly hooked. I was ridiculed at school after I performed “Thriller” during a talent show; I had classmates going as far as saying that I must want him to kidnap and r*pe me if I enjoyed his music so much. I didn’t understand the gravity of those comments back then the way that I do now that I’m 23, but I still knew to an extent that what they were saying was in now way a good thing. I shut out his music from mid-6th grade all the way until this year. I hadn’t listened to a single song aside from hearing “Thriller” on the radio during October. For my birthday this year, I had a friend take me out of town and get away for a day. The entire time, she surprised me by playing hours of his music when in the car with her. It has since reopened that connection to his music and I’ve been listening to his songs with a fresh take, with the mind of an adult who can comprehend his words and understand finally what he’s saying for each song. As such, I’ve become more comfortable with others knowing I’m a moonwalker. You can have your opininos of the man, you can choose to believe the tabloids and junk media or make your own conclusions after assessing the details and documents of his life, but I will enjoy the same freedom of opinion.

I know this is getting pretty long, but I wanted to fill those who still might be checking up on this blog for any sort of update or spec of life coming from it in on what’s practically killed the blogs for a good chunk of time.

I do plan to slowly start doing stuff again after Halloween. I have a video made that I plan to post for Halloween and I look forward to letting Kikumi and the others be open for asks again. Until then, may the wind guide you all. I hope everyone can have a safe and wonderful rest of August. I will see you in October.

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nothingeverlost · 4 years

Note

lenny/midge please? 'when i first saw you, the end was soon'

And the award for most cheerful prompt goes to...

Set a couple of years in the future. Trigger warnings for drug references. Loosely based on historical events. Do I have to warn for swearing in a Lenny and Midge fic or is that just assumed?

I’m still finding my feet with these two. Feedback is much appreciated.

@phoenixwrites @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels tagging you for obvious reasons.

“I needed a ride home because I didn’t have my wallet. That doesn’t mean you’re obligated to cook for me. I’ll be a good little boy. No booze, nothing up my nose.“

“Do you know what I thought the first time I saw you in front of a room?” Lenny was in the passenger seat, half slumped against the door. She had the heater on despite the fact that it was June in California, but he was still shivering.

“That I was a lightweight in addition to being a complete mess?” Two hits from a joint and she’d not only completely forgotten to introduce the band, but she’d committed the sin of getting too serious during a set.

“I thought there she is, finally. It’s going to be okay when I’m done because she’s there and she’d just getting started. You stood up there and you were real.” He held up his hand and gestured at the window as if pointing to a stage that was three thousand miles away and years in the past. “And I knew that arrest wasn’t an anomaly. You were going to take on the world and you were going to be a hell of a lot better at it than I was.”

“Do you have an oven?” She hated California traffic. If she was in New York she could have just relied on cabs but they were rare around here and cost too much when everything was miles apart and so she’d rented a car. In the moment, though, she was glad to have something else to focus on.

“Do I have a what?” For just a moment he sounded like himself, not the shadow that had called her from the hospital. He’d repeated himself twice before she’d realized it was him.

“An oven. You’re renting a place, right? My hotel doesn’t have an oven.”

“I think they’re pretty standard in a kitchen and I have one of those. Midge…”

“I’m making a brisket. We’ll stop at the store when I see one and pick up a few things. You can stay in the car if you want but a little walking would be good for you and I don’t know what you like and what you hate. For eating. I don’t see you eat very much, you know? We’ve shared what, half a dozen meals together and half of those were pretzels and nuts.” ‘When I’m done’ he said, and she was talking like if she said enough she could stop hearing the echo of it in her head. He could have been done last night, according to the nurse.

“I needed a ride home because I didn’t have my wallet. That doesn’t mean you’re obligated to cook for me. I’ll be a good little boy. No booze, nothing up my nose. Just me and my bed for the rest of the day.” He struggled to sit up in the seat.

“You’re too thin and you need some red meat.” Midge pulled into the parking lot of the first grocery store she saw. “Oh fuck, you just made me sound like a Jewish yenta.”

“The last thing I think of when I see you is yenta.”

“Sure.” No, he thought of her as caring on a tradition or some shit that let him off the hook. “Are you coming in?”

“Why not.” She often thought of Lenny as dancing, even before the first time they’d been on the dance floor together. He seemed to glide as he moved, to sway, nothing so banal as just walking. As they walked through the parking lot his steps were almost mechanical, as if he was trying to remember how humans moved. She nodded to the carts; maybe having something to hold onto would help him.

She’d forgotten it was Valentine’s Day. The moment they walked through the doors they were assaulted by red and pink hearts, sales on steak, and plastic cupids ‘flying’ precariously over the produce department. Great. She was twice divorced (from the same man) very single, and stupidly in love with a man who apparently thought of her as his replacement.

“The brisket will take hours so I’m getting some chicken soup. I hope their deli has a decent one. We need carrots and potatoes. You should have some fruit too; I hear oranges are good out here.” She pushed the cart through the produce department first, adding apples as well. Some lettuce too, for a salad with dinner.

“Midge.”

“If I know you there’s probably not much in your fridge. We should get some milk and some cheese. And we’ll get some crackers, those are good when your stomach is upset. How do you feel about Jell-o?” She led him to the meat department so she could get the brisket.

“Midge.”

“I prefer a butcher for my meat, they know their cuts better, but sometimes you just have to settle.” At least the man behind the counter seemed to know what he was doing.

“Miriam.” She couldn’t ignore him with a hand on her arm. Couldn’t move forward.

“This is where you want to do this, Lenny? Here, surrounded by yogurt and paper hearts and discount packages of frozen vegetables? What do you want me to say, though I’m okay with you trying to kill yourself because hey, I’ll be around to pick up the pieces and my life will suck the moment I get that phone call but at least I will have something to talk about when I’m on stage?” It was so goddamn cold. Someone needed to change the settings on the refrigerators before the milk started freezing. Midge reached for the cart but stopped herself. “Make your own damn brisket if that’s how you feel because fuck you. I lived my life for a man once and I am never doing that again. This is my life. I’m not here to replace you or continue your act or whatever the hell it is that you want.”

It wasn’t hard to pull away from him, breaking his hold. His hand was trembling. “I’m not trying to kill myself.”

“You’re not trying to not kill yourself either.” He’d lost too much weight, his clothes hanging off him. The shadows under his eyes spoke of a lot more than a missed night of sleep. Heroin, the nurse had said. From her own experience there was alcohol too, and marijuana. And missed meals.

“I just need a break from all this.” His hand fluttered near his forehead. “It makes the world stop for a little while.”

“Ma’am, someone reported a disturbance back here. Is this man bothering you?” A man in a very bad sweater vest and a name tag that said “Manager Chip” approached them. Midge almost laughed. Disturbance? He didn’t know the half of it.

“We’re fine,” she lied. “My husband is just out of the hospital after a bomb exploded in his office and he’s a little hard of hearing still.”

“Yes ma’am. Sorry to bother you.”

“A bomb?” Lenny cocked his head to the side.

“Would you have preferred syphilis?” She sighed. “We should go. Leave the cart, someone will sort it out.”

“I’ve heard stories of this brisket of yours. Legends. I’d like to see if it lives up to the rumors.”

“Lenny.” He was smiling for the first time since she’d seen him six months ago in Chicago. That damn grin of his, the one she never saw on stage but only when they were alone, was a curse. It could get her to do almost anything.

“You’re no one’s second act, Midge. I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”

“You’re not replaceable. Not on stage and not off it either.” She’d been using Lenny Bruce as a measuring stick since she’d seen him in college. It wasn’t fair to him, and really wasn’t fair to other men, but somehow he’d become a part of the center of her universe. She either needed to pull away completely or she needed to stop hiding from it. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re too good for me, Midge.”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. You can decide to be my friend or you can tell me to fuck off. You can be my lover or you can tell me you’re not interested. Decide for yourself but you don’t get to decide for me.”

“I can’t promise you a future, I don’t know how much I have in me.” It scared her to know that he only spoke the brutal truth.

“I’m not asking for promises. I’m asking for you to sit at a table and eat soup while I make dinner. I’m asking you to sleep in a bed and tomorrow we’ll see if this town has anything that passes as a deli. And maybe, if you want, you can talk to me a little. We’re pretty good at not talking to each other, maybe it’s time we try something different.”

“How novel.” He closed his eyes for a moment. The soup might need to wait until he’d had a nap first.

“I’m not just getting started anymore, Lenny. I’ve been around the block. I know enough to know what I want and what I can handle.” She grabbed the cart. They needed to get out of the grocery store. Melting down on stage was enough without adding grocery stores to the list.

“You can tell I feel like crap because I don’t have a single joke ready for what I’d like you to handle.”

“I’ll give you a twenty-four hour grace period. You can give me your best joke tomorrow.” Thank God she didn’t have a show tonight.

“Tomorrow. Yeah, okay, I can do that.” He walked next to her, hands in his pockets. “Don’t forget the Jell-O. I like the green one. But if there are any vegetables in there I won’t eat it.”

“How do you feel about pineapple?”

“I wouldn’t object.” They stopped in the baking aisle for Jell-O and a cake mix. One of the paper hearts had fallen; she didn’t see it until she’d rolled over it with the cart. It felt like the setup for a joke in her act. She hoped it wasn’t a sign.

“Let’s go home.”

#lenny x midge #the marvelous mrs. maisel #the marvelous mrs. maisel fic #my fic #actuallylorelaigilmore

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minotaurman-ayjay · 4 years

Text

Do not drink and drive

This post details the car accident that I survived.

It will be about how the accident occurred.

What happened to me (Injuries, Court).

What happened to the drunk driver (Prosecution)

and where I am, now.

TW: graphic details of car accident trauma, pictures of x-rays (when I get them). Details of out-of-body experience, and potential glimpse on the afterlife.

In 2015, I had just bought a brand new car, a black and gunmetal grey Volkswagen CC. I loved that car, and I was going to treat it like it was my baby. I bought the big, thick manual that details every part of the car so I can fix it myself if I ever need to.

I didn’t even have the car for more than 3 months.

I was at an intersection, about to go north (one way) on an entrance ramp to the highway. I saw these headlights coming toward me. I didn’t think anything of it at first until I remembered “Wait a minute, this is one way.” Before I could finish that thought, he had collided head-on with me. “Why didn’t you react earlier? You knew you were on a one-way street.” Let me tell you, even though you *know* you’re on a one-way street, to see headlights coming at you is confusing. It’s disorienting, and usually it’s way too late when you remember that YOU’RE the one going the right way, and this motherfucker is about to hit you.

He was in a huge pickup truck called a “dually”, it’s a pickup truck that has a set of two wheels in the back and has a hell of a lot of horsepower.

When he collided with me, his truck went over my car, nearly crushing me in the process. One of his tires was about 3 inches away from my face.

I was pinned under the dashboard, I had lost consciousness. I vaguely remember someone holding my hand and saying “It’s going to be okay. Just stay with me.“ I had an out-of-body experience, I saw myself getting extracted out of the car. I was pretty beat up, my face was scuffed up and bloody from the scrapes of the airbag hitting me. When I was pulled out of the car, my limbs were listless like noodles. I remember seeing my legs… My feet, in particular. Both of my ankles were dislocated, and my hip was dislocated and it looked like it was nearly coming out of my skin.

This is where my out-of-body experience ends. I briefly regained consciousness in the ambulance, I don’t remember if I had an exchange with the EMTs or anything like that, because soon I had fallen asleep again.

Then I remember waking up at this house that I had never seen before. There were people everywhere, music being blared, it looked like a party. I approached the door and my friend Evan, who had died several years before in an accident where he was killed by drunk driving, was at the door with is arms crossed.

I’ll never forget this shocked expression on his face as he asked me "What the hell are you doing here?” and I was like “What are you talking about? You invited me.” He scoffed “Like hell I did, man. Go back home. You’re not supposed to be here.” I thought he was just being an asshole, and we were always confrontational with each other… But it’s all in jest. I posted up to him and said “Fuckin make me, man.”, and then he shoved me.

The shove was so realistic, so jarring, so violent that I had fallen backwards— and then I woke up in the hospital, and according to my mother I was on my way to Radiology to get xrays when I came to. I don’t know if I caught a glimpse of some afterlife, or if I was dreaming, but it was very real. My mom knows that I almost died, and watched me fight for my life.

Anyway, they had to restrain me because the drugs that they had given me made me combative. I was taken to the hospital where my mom works, as it was the closest hospital to the accident scene. She was also on duty that day, and for her to see me like that *had* to have been traumatizing to her.

Apparently I continued to go in and out of consciousness, and when I finally came to for good, I was in the ICU.

The moment I woke up, I felt this whole body pain, like an elephant was sitting on me. Not just my chest, but my whole body felt crushed under this gigantic weight. It was so much pain that it literally felt like weight, like I had woken up on a different planet and the gravity was crushing me. I begged and begged and begged for pain relief, I couldn’t breathe. My mom put the morphine control in my hand and told me to press it. I clicked that thing probably 4 or 5 times. It probably only worked once, but by then I didn’t care. I was so divided from the pain that it didn’t matter anymore.

My mom told me what happened, and what my damage was.

1) I had brain damage and a severe concussion. I was monitored in the ICU for 3 days to make sure I didn’t have a brain bleed they couldn’t detect. (I can’t remember the details of the brain damage). I had to relearn words, I had to relearn how to talk without stuttering or forgetting what I was saying mid-sentence, or having a word just disappear on me. This still happens from time to time.

2) My sternum had been displaced. Meaning it was fractured and pushed inward. Had my sternum been pushed in any further, I would have died. To this day, I still live with this. Because of this I cannot bind. I still cannot afford the surgery necessary to reposition my sternum.

3) My hip was so severely dislocated that it broke the acetabulum. This is the socket that cradles the ball joint in your hip. I still live with hip complications to this day. Because of this dislocation and the missing piece of acetabulum, I have degenerative osteoarthritis in my hip. I am a fall risk without a cane. I need a hip replacement, but surprise, I cannot afford the surgery.

4) Both of my ankles were dislocated and had bilatural fractures… Which means I had fractures on both sides of both ankles. One of the ankle bones was crushed beyond repair. I needed rods, plates, screws, and a bone graph. I still live with ankle complications to this day. Because of the surgeries and extensive injuries, I have degenerative osteoarthritis in my ankles. If I am to be on my feet or walking for more than an hour, I need to wear boots that are high topped to support my ankles. The drunk driver’s insurance was able to cover these surgery… However, as it became apparent over the years that I needed more surgeries and had more complications because of the MVA, it turned out that the drunk driver had changed auto insurance companies. Since America is the Greatest Country In The World™, health insurance providers DO NOT COVER INJURIES THAT ARE A RESULT FROM CAR ACCIDENTS. You have to go through the at-fault party’s Auto Insurance to get your bills paid. However, SOME health insurance companies WILL temporarily cover what is needed and will go after the at-fault party’s health insurance on your behalf.

But since this fucking shit smear changed insurance companies, I am absolutely fucked, and I can’t track him down to sue him.

5) I have damage to my eardrum. Luckily, it was not punctured by the force of the airbag hitting the right side of my face.

6) I have nerve damage in my knee (somehow? I don’t understand it, either) I can’t kneel on it. I either feel nothing (like the body part isn’t mine or something?) or excruciating pain when I try. There is no in between. Sometimes the nerve damage *itches like fuck*, but I cannot scratch it, as I will either feel nothing, or it will hurt.

7) I have nerve damage on the tops of my feet. I do not like it when my feet are touched. It causes electric shock feelings that travel to my ankle. It’s not pretty.

8) I have nerve damage in my face. I have Trigeminal Neuralgia that is secondary to trauma. Look at my “bloggy” tag to learn more about this.

9) I now have fibromyalgia. When it’s cold, or rainy, or if I’ve pushed myself too much, I will wake up the next morning feeling like I just came to in the ICU. Where I feel this full body pain that’s like an excruciating weight. Luckily, marijuana helps me with fibromyalgia and trigeminal neuralgia flare ups. I take a 2,000mg of gabapentin (spaced throughout the day) and 200mg of seroquil to manage them.

10) I have PTSD that is triggered by the smell of hot metal, the sound of circular saws, and by car accident scenes in movies. It took me forever to get over being gunshy in an intersection, and to even drive at all.

I was bedbound for 2 months, and wheelchair bound for 8 months. I was taking physical therapy and speech therapy for a year before my restitution to cover it had run out.

Needless to say, my quality of life had taken a drastic decline, compared to me pre-accident. Before the accident, I was in shape again. I was gaining muscle and I was close to meeting what I call my “healthy dad-bod” goals. I was going to go to police academy that year, but that was because I wanted to be an investigator for the Crimes Against Children Unit. I’ve had to reshape my future entirely. At the end of it all, my bills were $110,000. Luckily, I only had to pay $10,000 out of pocket, and that’s *LUCKILY*

So, what happened to the drunk driver?

The trial did not last long, he has been given 10 years probation (and straight to prison if he violates), mandatory rehabilitation, and to pay me restitution. Which had recently run out. I don’t know what has become of him, because as I said, I cannot track him down to sue him for my ongoing injuries.

If you are EVER considering driving while drunk, don’t fucking do it. Do not think you are invincible. Do not think it’s not going to happen to you. Do not think you’re not going to hurt someone. I don’t care if you are a “functioning alcoholic” or a “seasoned drinking veteran”, you WILL fuck up. This man that had hit me was 63 years old, and has probably been driving drunk for who knows how long. And once you DO fuck up, you are going to kill somebody. IF they DO manage to live through YOUR mistake, their life is changed *forever* and their quality of life will NEVER be the same again.

You are garbage the moment you sit in the driver’s side with booze in your blood.

#Do not drink and drive #drink responsibly #survivor #tw: car accident #bloggy

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heykillmongerluhme · 5 years

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G H O S T: Onto Me

I N S P O: Haunted x Beyoncé (Listen to if you want to height experience); Also the whole BEYONCÉ album just for a different feel

N O T E: Soo, this is my first Erik Stevens installation and I will probably do many more. I love to write, just period. This is short, it may end up to be something more, I really don’t know. I am just following my Muse Juice lol. Comments, Feedbacks, and any other things please give me! I appreciate it all. Please, enjoy.

W A R N: I am an adult and everything is 21+. I write angst, fluff, and smut. I will try everything to be as real as possible. If there are any deep triggers, it will be stated after this disclaimer. Some chapters may have lyrics, others may not. It will all depend on the chapter.

T R I G G E R: Alcohol; Anxiety

W O R D: 3.1k

G H O S T: Onto Me

I'm climbing up the walls 'cause all the shit I hear is boring. All the shit I do is boring.

“Do you trust me?” the warm breath brushed on her exposed stomach.

Flat in its natural state, it churned to anything but. Soft, rhythmic breathing filled her bedroom as she watched the figure beneath her. Her eyes must have been filled with dark lust because the only thing that she felt was the heaviness on her bottom half. Only a silhouette in her view. She wanted to moan their name but she was interrupted by a sting from a bite.

“Ow..” Soliyah giggled softly, eyes fluttered down to the dominating figure that drove her up the wall. The question still not answered by Soliyah was the reason for her punishment of the love bite against her belly.

“I asked, do you trust me?” the figure questioned along her stomach with a short growl intertwining with their words. Trust receiving the lowest octave. Soliyah’s eyes finally flutter open, but slightly. Her eyes landed on what seemed to be an amber-like hue pair back at her. Breathlessly, she nodded.

“Say it” the eyes growled back to her, consuming her body in their hands. Lips planted on her stomach, hands trailing to her love spot.

Her bottom falling limply as she cried out “I trust..you⎼”

EGH!EGH!EGH!EGH!EGH!

“Hmm..” Soliyah whined as her face plastered in her ivory and periwinkle Egyptian Cotton bedsheet. She wasn’t frustrated because she had to go to her dead-end job, but because this was the 2nd time that she has had that exact dream. It would always stop right there, though. She could never see who the mystery figure who had invaded her dreams for the past 3 weeks. Soli did attend a bachelorette party around that same time, but she couldn’t be that deprived could she? Her brown slit of eyes watched as her iPhone clock changed from 6:55 AM to 6:56 AM. Planning for her day ahead she managed to swing her relaxed thighs from under the covers.

Soliyah was always curious as to why that quote-on quote wet dream, felt more like a real-life simulation. She made a note to herself that only two glasses of wine should suffice for her daily nightcaps after work. The 27-year-old, Soliyah Burnett was fortunate enough to become an adjunct professor for Charles R. Drew University of Medicine and Science. She was looking forward to a promotion to become a permanent professor. Also, she is waiting to be placed with a hospital for her residency.

She did not always want to be a doctor, it sort of just became her destiny. Soli, as everyone would call her, always knew that her job was always going to be to heal people. Though she would like to become a permanent professor, she wanted to be a doctor more. Her thoughts of her future - the one she would have daily - clouded her mind before she became alerted of a Facetime call from her long-time friend, Nala. Yes, like The Lion King. Let’s just say, moms was obsessed. She flicked the excess water from her fingers from the sink, sliding the call waiting to the right.

“Yuurp” she bellowed through brushed gums.

“Ew, girl answer the phone like a regular person” a wrinkle formed over Nala’s nose as a goofy glance of disdain fell. “Good Morning!!” her words changed to her frequently up-so-happy attitude.

“You are too loud this morning, I don’t be gettin’ it” Soli mumbled before spitting out the froth of the minty toothpaste into the sink of running water. It was true, Nala was definitely a morning person and it didn’t help that they worked at the same place. Matter of fact, Nala put in a good word for her, seeing as though that she is on the Board of Directors at the school.

“How can you not be up in the morning? When you have your own practice, and you will” she affirmed to her always doubting friend “You gon’ have to be gettin’ that ass up around, like, 4:00 AM at least”

Her eyebrows raised as the echo of the ridiculous time ranged in Soli apartment bathroom. “L-O-L” she actually spelled out, she was corny like that sometimes. “You are funny, I’ma see how I can finesse that to be ‘Nah’”.

With her laidback slur that ran from her bewitching face, one would be confused. A delicate woman that looks like she, but had the heart and brute strength of confident language. You would not know that she was a professor to over 400 students - not simultaneously - and may obtain her residency at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. Everything was going to be set.

x x

“Tonight’s the big night!” Nala cheered through the speakers of Soliyah’s Onyx 2018 BMW 6 Series Gran Turismo. She let out a sigh that was becoming well needed by the hour. Tonight she was going to find out where she was going to be placed. It was Sinai or nothing else, it was going to be that.

“Yeees, I am so nervous” she confessed to her best friend. They were those type of friends, talked on the way to work and at work and on the way home. They practically grew up attached at the umbilical cord. Unbeknownst to the mothers, they delivered them both at the hospital a day apart and turned out to be new neighbors to one another, as both families were of newlyweds. Small world would be an understatement. Soliyah never questioned the universe and its decisions, but she always was thankful.

“Don’t be, after work we are going out to find out this information. Cannot have the repeat of acceptance of Doctrine night, mm mm” Nala’s head shook as if Soli could see before they both let out a peal of uniformed laughter.

Her eyes focusing in on her designated parking spot as her lip tucked beneath her teeth, she parked in her spot. “I’ma see you inside” she confirmed with her waiting friend as they said their ‘Okay’s’ before hanging up. Soliyah opened up her front face camera on her phone to do any last-minute checks of her appearance before facing the day. She fluffed her blowout before feeling a heavy, energy-sucking feeling from behind. She definitely felt eyes on her, snapping her head back around to her backseat she looked for what could be a perpetrator. Adrenaline running down quickly as she saw nothing, she snorted at herself for even thinking that anyone would be able to get into the back of her car without notice.

Shaking off the level of spook that she felt, Soli, retrieve her well needed essentially for this 8:00 AM Tuesday morning. Laptop, Tea, Phone, and Lesson Plans. The list is checked off, she made her way up the walkway as some students she was familiar with gave small greetings. A hard tingle went over her ass running up her back. There it was again and this time goosebumps decorated the nape of her neck. Trying, now, not to look paranoid she turned around quickly, but not to alert anyone as she looked for any person who may look strange or who is just having a hard time not staring at her ass. Again, she saw nothing out of the ordinary.

x x

“Okay, you gave me two old historical natural medicines that have helped the human race. Does anyone know of the other?” Soli’s eyes danced across the confused students' faces. She wasn’t disappointed that they didn’t know the answer, quite frankly she was surprised that the class was able to muster up two answers. This class was a drag to the student, imagine how Soli felt teaching and trying to make it fun. Her eyes scanned against the auditorium filled the room as she saw a hand from the way in the back raise. She couldn’t see their face but the gleam of what seemed to be their gold watch shone like an SOS light enough for her to see.

“Yes?” she inquired while calling on them, some eyes turning, some eyes focused on Ms. Soli as the students like to call her.

“Marijuana” the student answered truthfully as the class erupted into laughter. Some ‘Oo’s’ and name-calling rounded up the room. Soli laughed at the reaction of the students, knowing that the joke was on them. Hearing the fade of the class settling down, Soli projected “He is not completely off, it was not specifically Marijuana but the chemical named ‘CBD’ aka Cannabidiol. So, thank you for that”

“What about Vibranium? That’s been around for thousands of years and it’s mined naturally, IN Africa? We don’t talk about that” a female’s voice crowded the room as others asked confused about what Vibranium and its purpose. Others agreed with the protesting young woman. Soli had minimal knowledge to other forms of resources other than Western ones, she sort of felt like an airhead for the brief moment. However, she was never the type of person to say she knows something when that is furthest from the truth.

“Honestly, Chey, I have no clue. They don’t have it in the curriculum and that sucks.” Soli's throat began to create a dry patch as she spoke in her truth, something she often did in front of her students “Myself included, I do not know too much about the resource and its effects. I would love to become educated by anyone who has the information, privately, of course, can’t be disrupting my class” laughter erupted through the class before quieting down just as quickly the wave came

“But” she continued “I will try my best for us to incorporate more history of us and our people and their contribution to medicine more often. Please bring in your information”

“Aye! You a real one, Ms. Soli” one her comedic students bellowed out in the classroom and others agreed with their laughter.

“Don’t gas me” she laughed along with the student, looking to the clock seeing that the class still had 20 minutes worth of lecture left. “Aight, aight settle down. Now, what is the purpose of each of the three medicines?” her commanded attention on the class reigned as hands shot up waiting to be chosen.

x x

“Soliyah! Hurry up before all the good seats are gone!” Nala squeaked in the low-breeze of the California wind.

“Waddaminute child!” Soli beckoned back as she ran across the semi-busy street from her parallel parked car. “Tryna get me smooshed out here” she breathed out a chuckle, half from catching her breath and the other half from being caught off guard from the wind that hit her. “Come on” she shooed her friend inside to the lounge.

This was definitely Soliyah’s kind of scene. Quaint but enough individuals in the vicinity to capture a story or two. The lights dim and powdered like as the hue of black and brown furniture decorated the place. Sounds of the long loc’d fellow, spit out his spoken word through the worn brown leather book. She smiled to herself and to Nala as her best friend truly knew her. If she was to find out if she got into Sinai or not, she would have wanted to celebrate (or wallow) in a place like this.

Once they found their seats, the night started to drift on pretty quickly. However, to Soli, it seemed that every millisecond within the 60 seconds was dragging. She wanted to rip the band-aid off but she couldn’t find the strength to even peek at her phone.

“I’m going to do it for you if you don’t open up that damn phone” a tortilla chip bounced in Nala’s open mouth as she spoke once more, picking up another chip “It’s way past 6 o’clock, they have sent it. You got into Sinai and we are going to turn up. So, let’s get it!”

Half wanting to kick her under the table and half wanted to thank her for getting her out her thoughts, she picked up her phone slowly off the table and waited for the Face ID to recognize her. Her trembling thumb danced to her email icon, keeping breath in she searched through pointless emails only looking for the one that stated “Congratulations! You have been Placed!”.

Behold as she manifests it, there the subject was staring at her. This was it, her residency at one of the most popular hospitals in this area was all she wanted once she started her program at UCLA. Pressing the button, she read the letter stating her congratulations but a frown quickly found her lips as she read what could be some of the grammatical error. Or Los Angeles and Oakland look a lot alike in the dictionary.

“What does it say? What’s it say?!” Nala eagerness broke Soli from her dumbfounded look. If anyone told her that her face could stay like that if she made it, she would just keep it for the rest of her life. Not speaking quick enough, Nala snatched the phone sighing out, rolled eyes to follow at her apprehensive best friend. Soliyah looked up her almond-colored friend as she read through the email with a wide-spread smile then just like clockwork, down to frown.

“Oakland?” she questioned

“Oakland,” Soli answered, unenthusiastically to add.

“I mean...at least you got placed?” her friends' natural switch to optimism charged up but Soli sour mood climbed it down with a single look.

x x

“An-nd you want to know what else?” Soliyah was completed drained at this point, three shots of Henny in and a Long Island. It was almost time for her to go home. Soli was not much of hard liquor drinker but she felt that need for the occasion.

“Listenn..” an internal burp bumped into her chest as her glossy brown orbs watched Nala. Nala had stopped a drink and a half ago, knowing that her friend needed this moment. “It’s not that I don’t like Oakland, my fuckin’ family is from there!” her volume raising an octave causing Nala’s eyes to fly open after they sleezed overhearing the story of how she put herself through all schools, she made it out of her neighborhood, and being the youngest to do what she is doing in her social and work circle.

“It’s just that I l-left” she pointed to the right indication moving forward “so that I don’t have to go back” her fingers fling opposite direction almost spilling her drink “until I had my own practice, learning fromm these wealthy ass people over here! Infiltrate and then invest in our community!” Soli began to channel her inner Chey.

“Alright, Angela Davis, I think that we had enough for the night. So much for no repeats” Nala said more to herself but Soli caught the joke and bellowed out a burst of laughter, though it was a bit more extra needed than the statement.

“I will be right back” Nala got the idea of grabbing napkins and speaking to the bartender about having plastic bags and water, they were going to need it. But, before Nala could depart from Soli, like lightening her left fingertips wrapped around her medium wrist “Waait, no no, don’t go. I’ve been feeling like some has been watching me like just been watching me” she repeated to her friend before the fear didn’t resonate with her but with liquor being her catalyst. The real emotions were surfacing.

Nala’s eyebrows knitted together watching her frantic friend, watching as her face is flushing colors of red and green indicating that they needed to go home right away. So, to oblige and get out of there quicker, she nodded in hopes to have Soli follow “Okay, baby, and if he comes around here we gon’ fuck ‘em up okay?” her mother like tone soothed Soliyah at best for right now.

“Okay,” she mimicked before sitting back and watch her friend disappear into what was the growing crowd. Her eyes scanned the bar as she tried her best to maintain her composure in this public establishment. She definitely went over her limit and was using a sick day the next day, it was needed. She felt that feeling again. Someone was watching her and she was trying to raise up to notice the creep but only did it with her eyes. Peeking through her small fingers, her eyes lashed tickled inside her palms searching for whatever stranger was staring at her.

Then, an instant lock or connect had formed. Sober or intoxicated, Soli had never felt another like it before. It was like when you knew that you were in the right place, at the right time, with the right person. Eager now, her eyes shot up to now catch this culprit she has been playing with what felt like all day.

Maybe it’s all in my head? She thought foolishly to herself, she knew someone was watching her. The next 3 seconds felt like a lifetime as in the search for what she thought the culprit would look like, her eyes passed a stranger that her brain made sure to mentally to take a snapshot of. The figure stood still by himself with the crowd around him, eyes set on Soliyah and only her. The familiar amber-hue she sought after the first dream came into view. Her body froze but the heart was hot as the California week with no rain or sign of a cloud. Mind you, this was all in a matter of 3 seconds.

She thought of how when you look around and other people look around too, you catch each other’s gaze. This shit wasn’t like that for real, it was like the figure was waiting for her eyes to meet his. Sobered up slightly, scared to scanned her 180 degrees way back, she did it despite the fear of the man still staring at her. Remember, this was a matter of 3 seconds of how long their eyes met. Disappointed that the figure that once stood out to her in the crowd was now gone.

“What’s wrong with you?’ Nala appeared looking in the direction that Soliyah had her eyes set on before looking to her. Soli didn’t notice the apparent frown that crowded her face as she stared that the very spot sacred like he was going to magically appear back.

Eyes drawing from the spot, she faced her friend “Nothing, I think it is time for me to go” the rummage in her stomach signaling on cue.

“Ya think?” Nala laughed as she grabbed her drunken friend, leading her to her car, being the designated driver for the there 5-minute ride home.

x x x

I hope you guys like this! Sorry if this was so slow but I really just wanted to set the scene and the tone for you guys! I hope that this story can go far, I may want to be short but it’s really long. Idk, just going to keep writing. Cause the ideas chile! But anyways, please read and review! I would love it!

- KD

#myfics.#erik stevens #erik stevens fan fic #erik stevens fanfic #erik killmonger stevens #erik killmonger #erik killmonger fanfic #erik killmonger fan fic #michael b jordan fanfic #michael b jordan #hauntingme.#erik stevens x oc #killmonger x oc

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pitz182 · 5 years

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Marijuana as Harm Reduction: Chip Z'Nuff on the Medical Promise of Cannabis

The first time I grasped harm reduction for drug addicts (the idea that abstinence isn’t feasible for everyone so we’d better find a way to reduce mortality and damage), I was 35 and sharing a joint with two other writers—a decades-clean speed freak and a 12-stepping alcoholic. As for me? Everything, but heroin and pharmaceutical amphetamines have caught me the hardest (knock on wood that they’re never dethroned). Mid-joint, one of them asked me if I thought other people smoked as much as us.Not unless they’re avoiding something else, I said. Puff puff pass.The first time I experienced harm reduction, though, I was 19 and playing fly-on-the-wall in a rock star’s dining room. It was 1994 on the Irish south side of Chicago. I’d moved into a teenage crash pad where rumor was Enuff Z’nuff—a late eighties Chicago scene staple gone national; a band whose glam exterior lumped them in with acts like Poison and Skid Row while their vibe and melodies telegraphed Cheap Trick and Beatles—lived on the corner. After several weeks of reconnaissance to ferret out exactly where they lived, I was sent to ask them—the rock star strangers—for beer.They turned out to be Chip Z’nuff, singer, bassist, and original founding member of the band. He answered through an open screen door in his signature rasp: Well I don’t really like alcohol. It’s not good for you, but do you want to get stoned?Today, when I remind him of the exchange, he laughs a little.“Good,” he says, “I must have been in a good place then.”It’s been 25 years since I saw Chip Z’nuff and I’m a card-carrying medical cannabis patient now, a chronically sad trauma survivor with years of hard drug abuse and sobriety behind me. Spurts of hyper-sexual behavior and paranoia keep my psychiatrist and I discussing a secondary bipolar diagnosis, but we’re also not convinced I’m not just an analytical exhibitionist. All I had before was the trauma.I’ve come to talk with Chip about weed and advocacy, his stance on medicinal usage of marijuana.Illinois’ medical cannabis pilot program is in a growth phase. On his way out, Governor Bruce Rauner opened up access to include those Illinois residents who have been prescribed opioid medications, and new Governor J.B. Pritzker campaigned in no small way on the promise of bringing recreational marijuana to the Land of Lincoln.It’s a sunny Friday afternoon in Blue Island, still on Chicago’s south side but with a Hispanic flavor. Hilly in places, it sits on a channel of the Calumet River. Appropriately, a calumet is a North American peace pipe.“I’m a Cannabis Cup judge for High Times Magazine,” Chip says. We’re talking at his kitchen table about his longstanding, loud but peaceful weed advocacy. “They would always pick celebrities—musicians, rockstars, whatever you want to call it—and we’d fly over to Amsterdam and judge the marijuana in the different coffee shops. Whoever had the best shops and best pot would win. So I would go out there, and I did it with a bunch of different guys—Anthrax, Sebastian Bach, Patti Smith, a lot of cool artists—wanting to be a part of the movement because it was so powerful.”The movement was a pro-pot culture crusade—a coming out for stoners in the entertainment industry that had everything to do with harm reduction principles.“I got signed when I was about 25. My manager at the time was a guy named Herbie Herbert. He used to manage Journey, Roxette, Mr. Big, Steve Miller—bands that were all successful and sold millions of records. He used to tell me about growing up around the marijuana industry. He came from San Francisco and said that a lot of the artists were switching from alcohol and cocaine to pot, because it was easier on you. [The artists] seemed to feel better, were giving better shows and it wasn’t taking a toll on their bodies. Then I started reading up on pot and [Herbie] started teaching me about the medicinal stuff, the difference between CBD and THC. The guy was a genius. A six-trick pony. So I started studying up on it. [Medical cannabis] was a wave of the future that my manager knew about 20 years before it happened.”The current zeitgeist and loosening laws have everything to do with those years. The nineties, in turn, had been a response to the previous decade. Reagan’s drug war propaganda failed to differentiate between cocaine and cannabis—it was all the same enemy in the ads—but the crack epidemic made it clear that some drugs take a heavier toll on users than others. The public rejected the false equivalence. While celebrities rated weed in Amsterdam, Dazed and Confused announced Hollywood’s new stance on pot, hip hop culture flowed into the mainstream, and the leader of the free world quipped that he “didn’t inhale” live on television.In 1994, I was an undiagnosed ball of anxiety. I was a Lollapalooza Kid—a subset of Generation X that raved, rocked, and Rainbow Gathered in tandem while digging on Wu-Tang Clan and dancing to Front 242. I lived in a two-bedroom apartment where four, sometimes five of us slept on Tetris-ed floor mattresses in one room. Occasionally a ska band slept over. I was sexually assaulted in that place twice—once by a visitor, once by a roommate—and my only suicide attempt happened there as well.This is why I remember so many details of my quick stint (just a few months) as Chip’s neighbor. Because the kind of damage that writes books and overdoses was going down. But sitting at his table at age 43, interviewing my old friend for an article on reducing harm, these aren’t the things I remember.I’m recalling peace signs everywhere—it’s a part of their logo—and a Jane’s Addiction poster on one of the walls. Soft light. Warm skunk smoke hanging above everyone’s heads and a white cat with a full tail I used to pet while I watched the stream of strippers, strummers, and random hangers-on getting high. There were no hard drugs there. Just weed. And music.Chip’s voice is still raspy, and he’s talking about the medicine in marijuana.“Is it for everybody? I’m not so sure it is. I know from personal use and watching people around me, though, that alcoholics who start using it have gotten off of alcohol. That’s a great thing right there. Some people just can’t be on anything because it triggers other stuff. But anybody who’s sick, who has a debilitating illness, I think deserves to have the right to take cannabis.“I’ve got a friend of mine and she had MS,” he says. “She’d go through these tremors. She had problems speaking too. One minute she would be talking, then you couldn’t understand anything she was saying, but if she took a couple hits of pot she could speak so eloquently and perfect—it really helped her in a lot of ways. You can get on the internet and take a look at these success stories of people who have gone through terrible, terrible moments medicinally and have found a different way than what the doctors were prescribing to them. They turn their lives around and they owe it to marijuana in some capacity. I see that and go, ‘There’s a reason that God provides this plant for us on the earth. It wasn’t just to look at a beautiful plant.’ Is it for everybody? No. But for most? I say, could be.” What's your stance on medical (or recreational) marijuana? Let us know in the comments!

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backstrom-for-selke · 6 years

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My Chronic Pain Story

TRIGGER WARNING: death, serious injury, surgery, sexual harassment/assault, drug use (painkillers, marijuana), depression, suicide, weight shaming

I had just started getting back into the one thing in my life that made me feel truly happy: horseback riding. I had a job and my own car, so I was able to pay for lessons once a week and drive myself out to the stable I rode at. I was excelling faster than I ever had in my monthly on-and-off lessons since I was a young girl. Gone were the days when I would stare in envy at the rich girls who could afford to ride every day (some who complained about it, even) because I was putting myself first. I was paying my way through my own hobbies. It was my first taste of real independence.

Every Christmas and birthday, I would ask for checks to go toward extra lessons or a new pair of boots or a new helmet. I was obsessed with this, like many girls my age, but as I got older, I didn’t grow out of it. It’s a love that I still feel, and I have to say, there is nothing like mourning the loss of the one place in your life that you feel at peace. For me, that was in the saddle.

I fractured my spine just two weeks past my 17th birthday. It was one of the worst days of my life even beyond the obvious reason; my car broke down, I was late for school, I had one of my first panic attacks, and I was 45 minutes late for my lesson (because of the car breaking down) which cut me down to just half an hour of riding time (out of the kindness of my instructor’s heart).

I finally arrived on a blustery March afternoon to a fully tacked, 19hh Percheron/Thoroughbred cross, grandson of Secretariat, and the same horse I had been riding in the last three weeks of bi-weekly lessons, and from the moment I got on, I knew something was wrong. He was usually a relatively excitable horse, but he had his ears pinned back and was prancing around like he was some sort of show pony - not at all the hefty horse I was used to riding.

We usually started out at a walk, but Indy (the horse) had other ideas and broke out at a lively trot. Clouds were rolling in, and if I recall correctly, there was a snowstorm on the way. He shied away from the gate halfway down the long part of the arena, so my instructor figured he might be acting weird because of the weather, so we started him heading toward the barn (the other direction). He shied from the other gate, too, but this time, he took off at a full gallop down the center of the arena, blowing past jumps set up in the middle and heading straight for the other end.

I remained relatively calm. This wasn’t the first time I had ridden a spooked horse, but it had been a while, and I was already having a terrible day. In hindsight, I should have stayed home because horses are emotional creatures; they can feel what you’re feeling, and my foul mood likely didn’t help matters at all. We had recently practiced an emergency stop where you hold both the reins in one hand and tug as hard as you can with the other on one side, forcing the horse to turn his head and body abruptly. I tried it. Several times. He didn’t budge.

I stayed on relatively well until he took an abrupt turn to the right. I only had one safety stirrup on (I lived in the middle of nowhere, and I was lucky to even have one), and thank god it was on the foot that got stuck. As I was coming out of the saddle, my foot got stuck, and I did the splits mid-air, but I don’t remember this part. I don’t remember much at all from it, really.

What I do remember is seeing the ground rising to meet my face, a hard hit against my shoulder as I braced for impact, and then nothing. I remember thinking, even as I was heading for the ground, that this was my fault for being stubborn and riding that day. At no point did I blame the instructor - or even the horse - for the accident. I knew how empathetic horses were, and I got on anyway. I was at fault.

For those who don’t ride, it’s common practice to sign a liability waiver before beginning lessons with any instructor or school. It basically says that if you are injured or die during your lessons, your instructor can’t be held liable for medical expenses/be legally responsible for it in any way. A common theme is that, “horses are unpredictable and thousand-pound creatures, and their actions can result in injury or death” and that we “ride at [our] own risk”.

I remember each of those contracts that I and my mother signed, and I always took it to heart because it made sense: the instructor in no way pushed me beyond what I was capable of, nor did they intentionally spook the horse. They were no more at fault than the horse was for following its instincts. I, however, should have known better.

I came to on the ground seconds later with my legs in front of me and an unbearable pain in my back. I screamed about it hurting, and I knew to immediately try to wiggle my toes to make sure I wasn’t paralyzed. I wasn’t. I took a breath of relief, but that didn’t negate the pain at all. After the panic was gone and my instructor was rushing toward me, I stopped screaming and listened to her tell me that her husband was on his way with the truck. She knew that an ambulance ride was a private expense and likely wouldn’t be covered by insurance - she also knew that an ambulance likely wouldn’t be able to get out to where we were, so we were on our own for getting to the hospital.

This was the point that my parents had the most problems with, and in hindsight, we probably should have called the ambulance anyway, but given the dire situation and the pain fogging my judgment, I can see how we would come to this solution. I was scared. I was so scared. And at some point after walking to the truck at a 90 degree angle (I couldn’t stand up straight) and sitting myself in the pickup truck, I found my coping mechanism: a sense of humor.

My stepdad and toddler sister had gone to Burger King for dinner, and I called them just as they had ordered.

“Hey, [name], I’m going to the hospital,” I said into the phone between groans of pain. “I hurt my back.”

“What? Seriously? We just ordered.” My stepdad said, and at the time, I was a little offended. You’re really worried about your food when I might’ve just broken my back?! In hindsight, again, I know that shock and grief can do strange things to a person, like making them worry over the little things to better cope with the bigger concern. Eventually, he agreed to meet me at the hospital and sounded as panicked as I should have felt. I felt oddly calm.

Next, I called my mother. She was 30 minutes away in my hometown, and was much more panicked than my stepfather. I don’t recall what our words were.

Then, I called one of the students in the play I was a part of, joking, “I don’t think I’m going to make it to rehearsal tonight,” I said, and I’m pretty sure I was smiling.

“Why?” They asked of the cryptic greeting. I told them, and they all wished me well. It still didn’t quite feel real even though the crippling pain was very, very real.

When we got to the hospital, my stepdad was waiting for us. My instructor had called ahead to make sure we could park at the emergency (ambulance) entrance, and she ran in to get a wheelchair for me. When we got inside, my stepdad was panicking because he didn’t have my insurance information handy. The office staff tried to make me wait until a kind nurse came along and demanded that I be put in a room to start examining me. I was still vocalizing with groaning sounds in pain. This is one of only two times I have been in this much pain in my life.

Once we got into a room, a nurse offered to help me undress. I told her I was fine, that I’d be slow, but I could do it. I also joked that I had a MAJOR wedgie, and proceeded to pull my cotton underwear straight out of my ass in front of her. Looking back, you’d think I had already had the pain meds when you find out what that was all about. Shock can be a great painkiller.

I finally got into the bed and remember thinking that it was the fastest I had ever been processed in the ER, and I was wholly impressed with the speed at which the doctors attended to me. I was seen by two or three doctors relatively quickly, all rushing in at once. I was their most urgent patient, and it made me feel like a superstar - a nice distraction from the pain.

They informed me that they couldn’t give me the morphine they wanted to give me until all my injuries had been diagnosed, and I groaned but agreed to this course of action. It would be four hours until I finally got painkillers.

I was rushed in for a CT scan of my back and legs (I had complained of knee and shoulder pain, too). I had a few x-rays done, too, as I had blood on my face and a headache. The only injury they could find on the x-rays and CT scans were a broken nose and a broken vertebra. However, when they came to tell me about it, they said that the imaging was so identical on the T11-T12 that they wanted to do a repeat scan to rule out a shadow on the machine.

It wasn’t a shadow; I had broken both vertebrae.

My mother and sister arrived in the time I was in the CT scan, and they were there when I called my dad to tell him what happened. They left shortly after to get food. (I told them this was alright - I wasn’t going anywhere, I said.)

Sometime while I was alone, a woman popped in from behind the cloth divider, asking me what I was “in for”. I was still audibly groaning in pain, but I managed a smile and told her. She said she would pray for me, and that she was here for her mother who was having chest pains. I remember thinking that they should pay more attention to her, since my injuries weren’t life-threatening, just painful.

By the time my mother and sister got back with food and ate, the doctors moved me off the back board and onto the regular bed.

“Are you on your period?” They asked with concern.

“No,” I replied, confused.

“When was your last menstrual cycle?” Fuck if I knew. Luckily, my mother and I were just about synced up, so she replied, “about two weeks ago.” That sounded right, I confirmed.

I was bleeding heavily from “down there” (in addition to pissing my pants thanks to a bodily reflex to losing consciousness).

In perhaps the most traumatizing exam of my life, a male doctor stuck one finger into my vagina and one into my anus, and the pain was excruciating in addition to being humiliating and my first experience with anything “up there”. I sobbed and screamed as it happened, and my mother held my hand while it happened and reassured me it would be over soon. My carefree attitude didn’t really pick up again until after I got my morphine an hour or two later.

That massive “wedgie” I mentioned to the nurse when I was admitted was actually my underwear tearing my skin from my vagina almost to my anus almost down to the colon wall. My back didn’t require surgery, they said, but I would need surgery that night to repair the damage down there and stop the bleeding. I finally got painkillers four hours after I was admitted, and was sent to surgery about two hours later.

Perhaps the worst part about this experience, physical pain aside, is something I vividly remember the doctor saying to me:

“Compression fractures heal very well. You won’t need surgery to repair it or physical therapy. In fact, you probably won’t have any chronic pain at all.”

I made it through surgery fine and was put back into my room in the wee hours of the morning. My mom slept in a chair, and my stepdad took my sisters home.

At seven in the morning - less than six hours after I had been put in my room for the night, a nurse burst in demanding that I urinate. I told her my bladder was empty. She berated me for not being willing to try, so I got up and sat on the toilet fruitlessly until telling her again that it was empty. She brought in an ultrasound machine to make sure it wasn’t a lack of sensation, and sure as shit, to her surprise, my bladder was empty. Another relief, in part, that I hadn’t lost sensation of my bladder in the fracture of my spine.

I was finally discharged around lunchtime that day (it was a Saturday) with a prescription for painkillers and an order to rest to recover.

My mother woke me up for school on Monday. I couldn’t believe it. I told her I literally just broke my back on Friday night, that I wasn’t ready for school yet. She (begrudgingly) let me stay home from school that day, but I was expected to go in on Tuesday. I did.

I was confronted with rumors that I had been shot, in a car accident, or in an argument with a friend. I brushed them all off as jokes. I completed my play that spring after spending 6 weeks in a back brace, and spent the remaining 3 months of school on prescription painkillers.

At the end of that 3 months, I told my doctor that I didn’t want to keep taking these painkillers due to the risk of addiction. I told her that I was concerned that I was still in enough pain to need them, and that I wanted to get to the bottom of it. She referred me to a neurosurgeon an hour and a half away at the nearest large hospital. We spent a long time going back and forth to that doctor.

He told us at first that most insurance companies wouldn’t approve any sort of imaging or surgery until at least 6 weeks of physical therapy were completed. I agreed to go, figuring that it couldn’t hurt.

I saw a local physical therapist that I never quite felt comfortable with. He was younger, and the dad of a kid in my school (a few grades below me), but something always felt off about him, particularly when I was practicing my exercises in front of him. It was summer, so I usually showed up in gym shorts and a tank top. He gave lots of oiled massages and used a TENS unit at the start of our sessions, and spent a lot of time behind me when I was practicing my exercises.

A few weeks in, I felt an erection against my ass when he was performing a chiropractic maneuver. This was my first experience with an erection as I was still a virgin. I questioned it for a few days, and told myself it was something else entirely while I was still there, but I couldn’t bring myself to go back. It only validated the creepy vibes I got from him from the start.

Luckily, it was just long enough for the insurance company to approve an MRI which found the beginnings of bone spurs, and most notably, that my T12 vertebra was in worse shape than when I broke it. It was deteriorating instead of healing, forming a giant chasm in the middle of the bone where there should be spongy bone.

My surgeon said we had 3 options:

1. a stressful, inpatient procedure with rods and pins and a 6 week inpatient recovery period.

2. an outpatient, minimally invasive procedure only requiring a small amount of medical-grade cement to fill in the gap

3. continue treating with existing measures and hope it gets better

Obviously, 3 was a no-go. He did tell us that it was possible it wouldn’t work, but he was “very confident” this would solve my residual pain. I felt that same confidence as I still had a great deal of trust in medical professionals at that time. We decided to go with option 2 because I had commitments at school that were coming up that winter (it was fall at this point), and my mother wasn’t sure about our ability to pay for a 6 week recovery time (and missing that much school).

I’m not sure what happened behind the scenes with the insurance. I was too young to understand a lot of it. Hell, I still don’t understand it sometimes. We had to get a pre-authorization for this surgery, and all I know is that they called after I was dressed in a hospital gown and had peed in a cup to prove my virginal ass wasn’t pregnant (I joked with the nurse that I’d be having a Jesus if I were), and they got a hold of my doctor to tell us that it had been denied.

This surgery was $20,000 without insurance.

My mother looked down at me - I’ll never forget the look she gave me - like she was about to cry, and I don’t blame her. I would cry, too. I panicked, thinking I wasn’t going to get the surgery I needed to be pain-free. Instead, my mother surprised me by telling the doctor to do it anyway, that we would figure it out afterward.

So I went under, and when I woke up, I was in a dark room, alone. The surgery didn’t take more than 45 minutes and went well, but it took me some time to be able to stay awake long enough to leave the hospital. My mom wheeled me out to the car. I told her I was hungry, so we stopped by Outback - a rare treat for us because of our rural hometown.

I fell asleep at the table, no joke. I didn’t even make it to when the waiter introduced himself. My mother had to wake me up to get me to order my drink. I fell asleep again after that and woke up when the food got there. My mom took pictures (I don’t blame her - it was hilarious). The poor waiter probably thought my mom had drugged me. I wasn’t even awake long enough to know if she explained it to him.

I ended up taking most of my meal home in a box, and I didn’t touch it. I slept for 18 hours that day, and my mom came in the next day to get me to go to school. I again told her I wasn’t ready (it was a Tuesday, I believe), and she (reluctantly) let me stay home but told me I was expected to go in Wednesday. I did.

I had an emotional breakdown on the first day of school that year (earlier on) as my best friend from when I was a kid had died in a car accident. I cried about her and my back, and I think this was one of my early signs of pain-related depression. Breaking down in the middle of class was not my thing. I was the bubbly, goofy nerd, not the emotional crybaby.

All along, my mom had promised me that once I was pain-free, I could ride again. I found out that winter that this was an empty promise. She told me I could ride again if I wanted, but that if anything happened, I would be the one responsible for the medical bills. That she wouldn’t pay for me to get hurt again. I understood where she was coming from, but I was incredibly hurt that she fell back on her promise. It was the first time she did that, but it wasn’t the last.

By the next spring, we knew that the surgery hadn’t worked, but there was no more structural damage that could explain my pain. I was off to college, so it wasn’t feasible for me to continue treatment with that practice.

I was at the point where the pain was interrupting my life by the time my freshman year started. I had to leave football games early, had to schedule my classes close together so I didn’t have to walk too long, and found myself in a great deal of pain if I stood for too long. At this point, laying down was still alright, as was sitting. It would not stay that way.

I saw a doctor and was told I was just feeling pain because I was “depressed” and that a small dose of an antidepressant would help. It didn’t. When I went back, they said that they didn’t know what to do for me because there wasn’t anything physical wrong. I started biofeedback therapy (tricking your brain into thinking you’re not in pain), and continued that for a while until it, too, wasn’t working.

Even though life was going pretty well - I had a great group of friends, my first boyfriend, my first kiss, good grades, I felt like I was falling apart beneath my perky mask.

I fell into my worst depressive episode to date - and perhaps my first big sign of future issues - that spring.

I broke up with my boyfriend in December after being compared to her for the greater part of our short-lived relationship. I started skipping a lot of classes, staying up way too late, and sleeping in until the early afternoon. I was still incredibly social and had a strong drive to see my friends, but absolutely no motivation to go to class to pursue my career. I couldn’t get myself out of bed, and I couldn’t sleep when it came to nighttime. I was also forced into a social light a lot of the time because of living in a dorm, so maybe all my socializing wasn’t completely motivated by me.

I was also trying to push myself to be more social because for a little while, I did feel “normal” to some degree. I dressed up one night in a cute dress, tights, and a jacket with a pair of high heels to go play poker with my friends. My ex was there, and my friend and I were the only ones dressing up (because we felt good).

My ex called me a slut/whore for dressing up.

I wouldn’t say this was my trigger point, but it was a contributing factor to the steady decline that followed that spring. I had a cold at some point and had been prescribed cough syrup with codeine, and it got so bad on more than one occasion that I considered drinking the whole bottle. I had told myself that I would wait about half an hour and then go sit in the hallway because I had a single room and I didn’t want my body to sit in my room for days on end until I was found. I wanted someone to find me.

Plus, I thought, I could get free tuition for whoever found me. Do a little good on my way out.

Ultimately, I couldn’t bring myself to drink it, and reached out to my ex in a last desperate cry for help. He was a total ass about it and basically told me he was busy.

I failed a lot of classes that spring, but was able to requalify for student loans by filing a claim that I had been depressed, resulting in my inability to attend classes. It was approved, and I planned to go back in the fall after meeting my now-husband at a party.

Some time after I met my then-boyfriend, my ex expressed concern that I was leading him on and that I had misled him by helping him study for Chemistry (a class I had previously taken). I invited him over to talk it out because he was being pretty persistent about wanting to talk.

He came over, we talked until 6am the next morning, during which I told him to leave to sleep before his final several times, but he refused each and every time. He later blamed me for failing it, and told our mutual friends that I didn’t let him sleep, further “evidence” that I had led him on and caused him to fail his studies. He dropped out and didn’t return.

The following fall, I recovered well from my depressive episode, touting a 3.2 GPA that semester and generally enjoying my classes. I realized, however, that I had no real focus, and I was quickly falling into a hole with my education that I would have a hard time getting out of. When I started at the school, I was intending to go pre-med, and at this point, I was a psych major. Psychologists don’t get paid as much as doctors, and I couldn’t justify the cost of schooling any longer.

So I left, and I moved in with my boyfriend.

Washington state had legalized medical marijuana, and it remains one of the few things that has helped me in the treatment and management of my pain. I knew someone with their green card, so I had access and frequently smoked to deal with my pain.

I got a job that spring - I was on my feet about six hours a day, and that sucked, but I was managing just fine. I didn’t have any additional suicidal spells. I started pursuing a cure for my pain again the following winter. I began physical therapy with a wonderful woman, and they recommended doing acupuncture concurrently. I followed all their recommendations with the promise from my doctor that after 6 weeks, if I was still in pain, I could have an MRI done to examine my spine again.

Only, when I returned to that doctor, the doctor I had seen previously was unavailable due to an emergency surgery. They asked if it was alright if I saw a different doctor, and I thought sure, why not, the notes are all in my file about our plan.

A young (male) doctor came in with a lot of energy and what I thought had been genuine concern on his face. It was not. I told him that I was still in pain, and that while the physical therapy helped with some pain in other places, it didn’t relieve my chief complaint of pain in my mid back where I fractured it. He began asking a lot of questions and told me that he didn’t think that I needed an MRI. He said that I was overweight (I was only about 20 lbs heavier than my lowest adult weight, by far not overweight), and that I needed to get into shape in order to cure my pain. I told him that I walked regularly, but much more than that caused serious flare-ups making it difficult to work out. He told me, basically, that it was bullshit and that I needed to work out vigorously.

At that point, I began to cry. You’d think men would know by now not to comment on a woman’s weight, especially so aggressively. I said I just wanted to go, that I’d work out, whatever, just to let me go. He refused to let me out of the room, blocking the door and saying, “you’re not leaving until we figure this out.”

I cried harder. I just wanted to go home and end this nightmare. He started asking about depression, asking if I wanted to kill myself. I told him that I was depressed in the past, but that I was fine now and my crying was because he wouldn’t let me go, not because of depression.

He didn’t believe me, and insisted we sit and figure this out. At that point, I started to agree with him just to get him to let me go. I didn’t care what he was saying. Honestly, I don’t even remember what he did say or what I supposedly agreed to during that appointment.

I was so traumatized by that appointment, that I couldn’t return to the office. I had an appointment scheduled with my regular doctor, but I couldn’t bring myself to go through the door. I told my amazing physical therapist about it, and she told me that he was a doctor that frequently worked with athletes, so he’s used to berating patients and being able to get away with it. I expressed my wonder that he was still in practice at all.

It got to the point where I didn’t have a doctor treating my pain any longer, and when a $800 bill came from the physical therapy center for my treatments, I realized I couldn’t afford to go any longer. I was stuck “dealing” with it again. So I continued to self medicate, and once again, I suffered no depressive episodes during this time period. I actually felt alright. I felt like I was living a decent life.

Washington state legalized recreational use of marijuana right as I was leaving the state.

I moved to a state where it isn’t legal in any form - even to this day - and the difference in quality of life is night and day. Shortly after we moved here, I started my THIRD round of physical therapy which also resulted in no relief. I had an MRI, it showed that there was no physical problem with my spine. I was told at that point that it was likely psychological. I didn’t like that answer. I didn’t accept it. I had been through varying levels of psychiatric health, and my pain never changed. I had been in states of bliss and heartache, and it never changed. The only time it changed was my level of activity or position. I was hurting all the time, and no one believed me.

I went to an urgent care clinic a few years ago and was lucky enough to see a doctor who actually seemed to care. He took an x-ray and said I had a smaller space than normal for my peripheral nerves to pass through, and that the irritation was causing an already inflamed nerve to swell up more, resulting in worse pain. He prescribed an anti-seizure medication frequently used for pain management, and my god, it worked like a charm.

The only issue was that a month or two in, I started having terrifying episodes of a lapse in recognition of common places - the drive to work and work, primarily. One time, I recall walking into work and knowing in my brain that it was “work”, but not knowing where work was or where I even sat. My doctor (a CNP who was amazing and my biggest advocate for relief) stopped the medication immediately.

In the months that followed, I tried everything. Muscle relaxers, anti-inflammatory drugs, anti depressants with secondary therapeutic use as pain relievers - we tried every drug out there. Rather than blaming it on my weight as all my other doctors had done, my doctor referred me to a pain specialist in the area. He said there wasn’t much we could do, but we could try an injection. I had the injection done, but it didn’t do much. After that, he basically told me there was nothing he could do.

I was devastated. I’ve suffered numerous depressive episodes since leaving Washington, and even come close to suicide again. I’ve cried myself to sleep and curled up wishing I could die to end the pain. I’ve even wished I was paralyzed sometimes so that I wouldn’t feel anything - as misguided as that is.

I was so depressed at one point that my doctor gave me a prescription for 10 hydrocodone, emphasizing that she didn’t normally prescribe pain pills to anyone but terminally ill patients, but she said that she was afraid I was going to kill myself if I didn’t get some relief. I can’t tell you the weight that took off my shoulders.

I made 10 pills last more than a year and a half - almost two. I had been out for a month or two when I went back to the urgent care clinic in serious pain - enough to drag me into the clinic in the first place. I saw a doctor who told me he used to work for the pain clinic I had gone to. He asked what I did to manage the pain. I told him I’ve tried everything, that I take ibuprofen/acetaminophen on mild days but it’s not a mild day. He asked if tramadol worked, I told him no. I told him about some sort of injection they gave me at the clinic one time. He said he didn’t think it would help. He told me to see a chiropractor (as if I hadn’t tried that), and I began crying and asked what I could do to relieve my pain now.

He asked what worked. I told him that previously, I had been prescribed hydros.

He immediately discredited me. He went on a long rant about how if they wrote scripts for narcotics (which I had gotten in THAT office, by the way) that they’d have “a line out the door” for them every day, that they couldn’t just be giving them out to just ANYONE. And get this - he actually wrote IN MY FILE that I was SEEKING DRUGS that day. Me, a woman with chronic back pain who had gone through TEN pills in over EIGHTEEN MONTHS. I was enraged.

This was now a part of my medical record. It was permanent. I was pissed. I got some lousy anti-inflammatory from him, and I found myself in yet another situation where I was agreeing with what the doctor said just to get out of the room.

I haven’t gone back to a doctor about my pain. I don’t know if I ever will unless we move. I know what works, but doctors are too blinded by the opiate crisis and the controversy over pain treatments to see that I know my body better than them. To see that I know what will work, but I can’t get it. I’m beyond frustrated at this point, and my mental health is seriously compromised by my terrifying experiences in an attempt to pursue a method of pain management within the confines of the law.

I am seriously concerned for the day I get pregnant like I want to be because I know it will be hell on my back. I know that I will be in more pain than I ever have been. At least that pain will be worth it.

My doctor wasn’t wrong when she said that she was worried I would kill myself if I didn’t get some relief for my back. I’m falling right back into that mindset as each year passes by that I continue to suffer without any option of even temporary relief.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. Writing this has been therapeutic to me, and I hope it has been eye-opening into the horrors that sufferers of chronic pain have to go through just to be treated like they are humans instead of second-class addicts (in the medical industry’s eyes, not mine). I’ve paid tens of thousands of dollars towards treatments, and nothing has worked. Every day that I walk this earth is a miracle because I suffer through every minute of it.

#chronic pain #back injury #back pain #fuck the us health system #fuck this state #personal #sorry to anyone who doesn't appreciate this content but i have needed to get this out for almost 10 years

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looselucy · 6 years

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July

I was unpacking everything from the boot of Zayn’s car as he lingered by the side with his phone pressed against his ear, trying to ring Harry, who had text him a while earlier saying he and Mike had arrived and already set up camp.

The evening before the festival had gone as expected. It mainly involved the women in my life going light headed and swooning over Zayn, which he completely lapped up and also, provoked. Zayn was an absolute pro when it came to flirting, I just didn’t get to see it very much because he didn’t often set his sights on girls. He just took things as they came. But seeing him flirt with both my mother and Katie proved he was an expert. Katie got so drunk just trying to deal with him, she ended the night with sick in her hair. “Bro, where are you?” Zayn asked as soon as Harry had answered. “Under the flag with the marijuana leaf on? For me? Flattered, man. See you there.” We were both laughing when he put the phone down, spotting the exact flag in the distance. My belly flipped. I had been constantly in touch with Harry in the two months we had spent apart. Not a day had gone by without at least a text, yet the thought of seeing him in person again was sending my stomach into an absolute frenzy. I stared at the flag he had described, put there so separate camp areas could be differentiated, and I could picture him clearly underneath it, all green eyes and curls and dimples and low voice and fuck. Every day I was becoming more and more aware just how attracted I was to him. Zayn nudged me, since I hadn’t helped unpack the car for a good few minutes whilst I was lost in thought, so I quickly got involved again before he questioned my lack of presence. I slung my giant backpack over my shoulder and tried not to fall face first into his boot thanks to the weight of the thing, then grabbed my tent and my camp chair, Zayn grabbing all his things at my side. When our arms were full, we stared with dismay at the five crates we had purchased, knowing there was absolutely no way in hell that we were going to be able to carry those too. “Fuck that.” Zayn tutted. “We’ll come back for them.” “But I’m really gunna wanna crack open a beer as soon as my tent is up.” I sighed. “That is true... We’ll just nick some from Harry.” “Good idea.” With that, Zayn slammed his boot shut and we began making our way onto the site, surrounded by people, all around our age or slightly older, going into the festival site too, their arms full and their wristbands on. At the entrance, our bags were checked by security, and then they wished us well. Zayn had told me the night before that security didn’t play much more of a part than that throughout the weekend, since it was such a small thing. It was an arts festival, really. Local bands, art stalls and vintage clothes stalls too. I wouldn’t be seeing a single band I knew, that was for sure, but it didn’t matter. As soon as we were in there, the vibe was noticeable. Everyone was happy, chilled, completely at ease in that field. There were people drinking and dancing around their tents already, and it was barely 10am. The distant sound of music coming from the actual festival grounds played sweetly through the campsite, and even though I was in the middle of some random field, it had the feeling of home. I loved it already. I people watched and looked around at all the anarchy as we wandered over to the flag, and I was glad I was too preoccupied with my surroundings, because I didn’t have time to over-think how things were going to be when I finally saw Harry again. We heard them before we saw them. “LIKE A RHINESTONE COWBOY!” The two of them sang together. “RIDING OUT ON A HORSE IN A STAR-SPANGLED RODEO, duh duh duh, LIKE A RHINESTONE COWBOY, dah dum dum, GETTING CARDS AND LETTERS FROM PEOPLE I DON’T EVEN KNOW!” We followed the sound of the two idiots singing their terrible acapella version of the Glenn Campbell classic, and soon we saw them, two tents set up in our camp space, beers in hand as they side stepped and clicked along to their efforts, before they spotted us, and thankfully, the singing stopped. Mike dropped his beer and bolted to me, as Harry went to Zayn. I dropped everything I had been carrying on the floor, because I knew Mike never half arsed a hug. His hugs were always intense, and I had never gone that long without seeing him. I knew I was in for something special. I squealed as soon as he reached me and lifted me off my feet, and that took me so bloody high off the ground I felt unsafe. I wrapped my legs around his stomach and continued to squeal with my arms around his neck as he span us round on the spot, stumbling a little but managing to keep us both upright, thankfully. “Mike! You’ll be the bloody death of me!” I cried when he wouldn’t give up. “Alright, alright I’ll put you down.” As soon as my feet met the floor, he bent down to hug me, kissing my cheek first. “How’ve you been? How’s your summer going?” “Yeah, really good.” I sighed, pulling from the hug. “Better than I thought it would be.” “So things are all good with your mum and stuff?” He asked, concerned. “Yeah, really good.” “And your dad?” “Uh, not so much. Not worth mentioning.” “LETS DRINK!” Mike turned around and ran over to the crate of beers he and Harry had already attacked, grabbing one for me as my eyes darted to Harry and Zayn. Harry had his giant bear paw slapped across Zayn’s cheek as he asked about his wellbeing and all the rest, and as Mike came back to me with a can of Fosters, my eyes were still glued on the two boys. Well, one of them in particular. Harry’s eyes then moved to me. I smiled to him. There was no point me trying to look the other way so he didn’t know I was staring. It would have only made it more obvious. He gripped Zayn’s face a little harder before he walked over to me, and my stomach was on the damn floor, my voice-box nowhere to be found as he came and wrapped his arms around me, hugging me tightly. “O’reyt, Pip-Squeak.” He greeted. “You good?” “I’m fine.” I gulped. “Are you?” “I’m sick, thanks.” With that, he pulled out of the hug, and took a swig from his can. For some fucking reason, it felt like a punch in the fucking gut. What the hell was I expecting? Did I really think he would run over, cry about how much he had missed me, declare his love for me, sweep me off my feet and we would gallop off into the sunset together? He gave me a nice hug and asked how I was, like any friend would. Why the fuck did that have to feel like such a kick in the teeth? I was truly sick to death of my feelings. “Oh my god.” Mike whelped, a hand on his heart. “The crew is back together, and I for one, am thrilled.” “Who else is coming?” Harry asked Zayn. “Louis.” “What about Tally?” I cried. “Shit, yeah. She copped out.” He tutted. “What do you mean she copped out?” I continued to wail. “She text me last week saying she couldn’t make it.” “Why?” “Dunno.” He shrugged. “I didn’t ask.” “Tally doesn’t just drop out of things like that. There has to be a reason. Oh my god, is she okay? Did she sound okay?” “I dunno! I didn’t study the text that much.” With that, all the lads took a swig of their beers and began catching up, and all I could think about was Tally, hoping she was okay but knowing if I text her from the festival, she would only feel guiltier than I knew she already did. Not that we had any damn signal, anyway. I would have to spend the weekend wondering. I then realised, it would just be me and a bunch of boys. One of them I used to sleep with, and one of them I really wanted to. Brilliant. In a way, it was rather brilliant. I loved all of them dearly, but female company was something I basked in. My life did feel like a bit of a joke, quite often. By the time I came back round from my thoughts and joined in the conversation again, Mike was beginning a story. “I slept with a girl who looked like Grace.” He said miserably. “Shit.” Harry gawped. “How did that treat you?” “Not so good.” He replied after another swig. “She was like, a shit version of Grace. And literally, the only reason I slept with her is because she looked like her.” “That’s heavy shit, man.” Zayn nodded. “Is that something boys do?” I quizzed. “I’ve done it.” Zayn admitted. “Me too.” Harry nodded. “Only when I’ve been drunk, like. But sometimes when you see someone who looks like someone you’re infatuated with, even if it’s just a small similarity, it just triggers something.” “Exactly!” Mike clicked his fingers. “I was like, drawn to this girl. It was bullshit.” “Do you speak with Grace?” Zayn asked him. “Sometimes. Always feels… pretty horrible though. Like we’re… missing out on something. So I struggle.” Sometimes, I blended in with the boys I had lived with so much, I think they often forgot that I was actually a girl. They would talk openly about these things and not worry about their masculinity at all, which was something Zayn never did, but I knew for a fact both Harry and Mike did, no matter how hopeless Mike was. Sometimes they just spoke about things like I wasn’t there. But it was nice, it answered questions about men I didn’t even realise I was asking, and I knew they felt just as grateful when they asked me questions about girls and I could answer them. “I don’t get why you aren’t just together.” I breathed. “Life is in the way.” He shrugged. We all drank again, thinking about Mike’s statement, and I wondered how long life was going to get in the way of people who clearly should be together, and make it so they just weren’t. Mike and Grace were the perfect match, and it was something they both wanted, but the big bad wolf that was life was holding them back, and life wasn’t something you could ever put on hold. I just thought maybe they should combine their lives, so that it wasn’t something that could get in the way, it was just the norm. Sometimes, normal was the most appealing thing imaginable to me. “ANYWAY!” Harry yelled. “I’m sure at some point this weekend, we’ll all be so off our tits that we’ll love talking about depressing shit like that, but Zayn and Pip haven’t even put their tents up yet, so let’s cheer the fuck up. Look what I brought.” He fished into his back pocket and pulled out the largest bag of white powder I had ever seen in his possession, flipping it between his fingers smugly. Within seconds, Zayn slapped the bag straight out of his hands. “No!” He pointed a finger harshly at Harry. “WHAT?” He yowled. “I got this for you, bro! This is your birthday present!” “Not this weekend, man.” “We’re at a fucking festival.” He groaned. “This is literally, the ideal time to take a shit load of drugs. I bought coke and MD for this.” “Well save it, man. I don’t wanna do it. Their off limits to us this weekend.” That was obviously fine with me and Mike, since we weren’t really as into that whole scene as Harry and Zayn were, but it was a little surprising to hear Zayn turning it down and saying it wasn’t something he wanted to do whilst at the festival. “Why?” Harry complained. “Because it’s so chill here, man. I wanna be, y’know, actually here. I wanna be present and enjoying it for what it is. Please don’t do it.” Harry exhaled his dismay, and rolled his eyes once, maybe he tutted too and I didn’t hear it, but then he shrugged. “Course.” He spoke again. “I’m only here for you, and because of you. I can go without. But I swear, we’re taking all this shit on our first night in the new house.” “Deal.” Zayn grinned. The two of them shook hands and that delved into a hug, whacking each other’s backs and smiling. It didn’t take Harry long to get over the fact he would only be on alcohol all weekend. I would definitely prefer it that way. I put my can of beer on the floor, balanced against my backpack and grabbed at my tent, because the sooner that thing was up, the better. I was terrible at constructing them anyway, never mind if I was half wrecked whilst doing it. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a pink tent.” Harry gawped. “Of course I have a pink tent!” I smiled, unzipping the bag and dropping all my needed equipment onto the grass. “That’s the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” He laughed. “You’re just jealous.” Zayn began working on his tent, across from me in the small circle we were beginning to create, Harry’s tent next to Zayn’s, then Mikes, which was next to mine, and Louis’ would nestle between mine and Zayn’s. “You want some help, man?” Mike asked Zayn. Before he even got an answer, Mike was helping out, because one thing worse than putting a tent up, was doing it alone. I smiled cheekily to Harry. “I will take no part in putting a pink tent up.” He said with his arms folded. “Your masculinity is so fragile.” I tutted. I expected a laugh from him, but I didn’t get one. What I got instead, was Harry literally, visibly, biting his tongue. Out of nowhere, I had hit a nerve. He huffed, but came to help me. As we worked, rather unsuccessfully on my tent, all I could concentrate on was Mike and Zayn chirpily chatting and laughing together, and the bitter silence that swilled in the small distance between me and Harry. It had been literal months, since me and Harry had nothing to say to each other. It wasn’t like us. It was unnatural and uncomfortable. I thought I had made a joke but for some reason, he just wasn’t having it. I wondered if it was something else, if something else was bothering him and I had just said one little thing that made him flip. He wasn’t yelling or anything, but he clearly wasn’t impressed. It was only when we were on the final stages of the tent that I plucked up the courage to speak. “Have I pissed you off?” I quizzed. “No.” He replied bluntly. “Well you could have fooled me.” I tried. “That’s because you’re easy to fool.” I didn’t know what to say to that snotty comment, so I decided to take the high ground, and not say anything. It wasn’t really something I was used to, especially when it came to Harry, but with the drastic change my feelings had gone through since we became friends in February, I could barely think of anything worse than arguing with Harry. Finally, the tent was up, and I decided to move all my crap in there ASAP, because there were already clouds blooming overhead. I was just praying it wouldn’t rain. I shuffled into my new home and crossed my legs as I organized my things on the free side of the two person tent, kind of wishing Tally would soon be climbing in with me, but also, glad I wouldn’t be sleeping with my bag on my feet. I’d say it was only a few minutes into my efficient unpacking, that Harry appeared in the entryway to my tent, crouched down to my level. I turned my head to him, gulping loudly. I expected an apology thanks to the sombre look on his face. “I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I dunno what happened. I was just being a dick. Sorry.” “S’okay.” I whispered, still trying to figure him out. “Stop being boring. Come and drink with us.” They had gathered in Mike’s tent, wary of rain, and the fact that Mike had brought a four-person tent all to himself made it the ideal spot. “I’m unpacking.” I choked. “Yeah, and that’s boring. C’mon.” He offered his hand out to me, a small, unreadable smile on his face. And all I could do was take it. + + + Louis had arrived late, with a fag in his mouth, three crates of cider balanced between his hands and his chin, and not much else. It seemed he would be sharing Mikes tent for the weekend, which Mike seemed utterly distraught by, until he realised that Louis was quite small and wouldn’t take up that much room. Besides, they had cuddled once before, which had gone relatively well before Ed threw up on them. So in the end, he had welcomed him with opens arms. We were waiting for the festival gates to open, so we could finally get into the arena, our tents up and at least five beers down. But we’d moved steadily throughout the day, and the alcohol hadn’t hit any of us quite yet. I stood in the centre of the four boys as we slowly shuffled forwards in the oversized queue, and I couldn’t help but overhear the girls behind us, giggling and pointing and talking about which one they thought was my boyfriend. Mike put his arm around me at one point, and they made their decision it was him. Leaving them to pick which one of them would go for Harry, Louis, and Zayn. The bloody lads were too busy talking to listen to the fact they were literally being picked out by the wolves behind them. I really wanted to turn around and give the girls daggers, and see if the one who had chosen Harry was as drop dead gorgeous as I was imagining she was. But I didn’t. I mean, I really wanted to, but I didn’t. As always, by the time I actually began to ignore them, and join the conversation with the people I was actually there with, Mike was half way through a story. “So then I was like, mate, if you want to buy a puppy, go ahead, but I will never, ever, eat spinach with you.” I bolted my head up to him with a very confused look on my face, wondering if I should even bother asking what the hell he was talking about. I figured he would just start from the beginning, and I loved Mike, but he didn’t often tell the most entertaining or informative stories. So I just kept quiet, still trying to figure out what the hell that story could have been about. That was when the girls decided to pounce. “Hey!” One of them jumped in between us. “Would you guys mind if we joined you? Even up the numbers of boys and girls?” Before we could even answer, Zayn answered on behalf of all of us, an answer I was grateful to hear. “Uh, m’sorry, but it’s kind of a personal thing. Just wanna keep it mates.” I literally wanted to leap to him and hug him, but he and the other lads would have no idea why, and I would basically start digging myself a more obvious hole, so I just smiled down to the floor instead. The girls caved back to their spot behind us, and their whispering became more intense. I was beyond grateful by the time we were finally through the entrance after they checked our wristbands and bags, and we began our journey. Zayn had told me the night before, that the first time he came to this festival, he was 2 years old, his mother young, free and happy, carrying him around in a pouch all weekend. You could tell, straight away, because Zayn opened his arms and breathed in the atmosphere like it was his home, eyes closed, head towards the sky, and his lips curving to the sun. Out of nowhere, Louis went and jumped on his back, to which Zayn reacted quickly and linked his arms round his legs, laughing and grinning. I fucking loved seeing him like that. Zayn was always happy, but this was something else. Zayn fucking belonged there. “So where we going, lad?” Louis asked, kissing his cheek. “To the Working Men’s Club!” Zayn chuckled. “It’s the best place to start.” Mike grabbed the festival pamphlet out of his pocked and began talking about the band that were opening the Working Men’s Club in ten minutes time, and Harry came and snaked himself next to me, glancing over his shoulder just once before he spoke. “I reckon that girl fancied me.” He marvelled. “Hm.” I shook my head. “Is there a girl in the UK who you think doesn’t?” “Only the insane ones.” He shrugged. “You’re so conceited.” I laughed. “And gorgeous, no?” “No.” I scoffed. “I can’t believe you’ve kissed someone who you don’t think is gorgeous.” He shook his head. “Shh!” I hit his arm. “I did it out of sympathy anyway.” “You’re such a liar.” Then he jumped so he was in front of me, facing me, bringing us both to a stop. I looked up to him, my eyes fixed on the dimples that pricked at his cheeks, drawn to him in the most predictable sense imaginable. “What?” I breathed. “I just, I need to say something. To lay some ground rules, if you will.” “Okay...” The dimples disappeared and he stepped a little closer to me, checking over his shoulder yet again to see that Mike, Louis and Zayn were still on their way towards the desired area, before he looked back at me. “The flirting is fine and everything, but I think this weekend we need to... y’know... not... do what we do... sometimes.” I knew exactly what he was referencing. It seemed mine and Harry’s sexual encounters were suddenly something he struggled talking about openly. “Okay...” I trailed again. “I think Louis still likes you, to be honest. And I was hoping by the time we move in together in September, things won’t be this complicated. We could start that now.” It was what I had been hoping for, really. Keeping my distance from Harry, the two of us not returning to that place, being that way. It was what I wanted, what I needed. But at exactly the same time, it was the complete opposite of what I wanted. “Good idea.” I lied. “Yeah?” “Of course.” I was lying through my teeth. “I was going to say the same thing.” “Good.” He grinned, genuinely happy. “Okay, let’s go.” He placed a hand on my back and then pushed me so I was ahead of him, pinching at my shoulders just once before shoving me forward again, even further from him. It was becoming a more regular occurrence that I would refer back to my lectures about body language, and I cursed myself for it every single time. Because suddenly I was reading into Harry playfully shoving me forward and thinking it was like he wanted to distance from me. But what if he did? He’d basically just said he wanted to keep his distance, but that was a literal distance, and I honestly was not a fan of it. There had been enough distance between us in these few months of being at home. Now he was choosing to create more and I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. Of course I got the logic, but me and Harry had never stuck with our logic. Logic had never been our strong point. I was kind of hoping he would see me after our dry spell, and not be able to take his hands off me, never mind choosing to keep his hands off me, never mind literally pushing me away from him. My head was all over the show. A complete wreck. I sped up in order to distance myself from him even more, to catch up with the other boys, and silently praying that I wasn’t the only one of us who would read into such benign things as distance. I really hoped Harry was questioning why I was running from his grasp. Not that he held much of a grasp on me. I reached the other boys pretty quickly, Louis still shelled on Zayn’s back, and Mike being the affectionate sod he always was as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, Zayn pointing out the tent we were heading to. “OH MY GOD!” Mike cried from nowhere. “I’M SO EXCITED I MIGHT DIE!” The whole place was colourful. I was almost sure the sky wasn’t actually blue, it was just the way my heart felt being there that made it appear that way to me. There were pinks and oranges scattered everywhere, in the flags and the artwork and graffiti that disordered and completed our surroundings. Then as soon as we walked into the Working Men’s Club, we were back in the real world, a world we were familiar with. It was a funny contrast, really. We went from being in a colourful wonderland, to being in a tent that resembled every single pub in my hometown. There were wooden stools and dull, lifeless greens and reds everywhere, an unenthusiastic woman stood behind a makeshift bar, real ales on tap. “Holy shit. I love it.” I chirped. “Thought you might.” Zayn smirked. Louis jumped off his back and bounded towards the front of the stage, which was at the opposite end to the bar, watching eagerly as the band set up in front of him. Harry skipped to his side as Mike bought us a round of drinks at the bar, asking where which ale had come from, which to be honest, I don’t think he really cared about, he was just enjoying the phlegmatic Yorkshire accent the woman spoke with. “Thanks for this.” I hit Zayn’s arm softly. “Thank my mum.” “Well, I will next time I see her.” I smiled. “You look happy.” “I am happy.” He nodded. “I’ve got my best mates, I’m in the place that I love more than anywhere else in the world. I’m more than happy.” “Good.” The smile on my face was so wide and real, so much so it might have given me a headache. Or maybe that was just the beers. “One two.” The man on stage spoke into the mic. Automatically, Louis started clapping. We were the only people in there at that point, and his mic check obviously wasn’t worth a round of applause, but that was what made it so funny, and that was exactly why he was doing it. The men on stage stared at Louis, a little disorientated as he continued to applaud them. “WOO!” He hollered. “C’MON LADS! WHAT A SHOW. WHAT. A. SHOW.” I knew it wouldn’t be long before Mike joined in, then Harry followed swiftly after, cheering and whooping and crowing to the band, who were finally catching on, and chuckling down to the floor. Soon after that, the tent filled out, and the band began playing, Zayn and Louis bringing out the northern soul dancing yet again, Mike and Harry concentrating more on their beers, and then me, watching them all with heart shaped eyes. + + + There was a thick, heavy, stomach churning bass coming from somewhere, but as I lay on the grass at the back of the main arena, eyes closed, facing the sky, I couldn’t quite figure out exactly where it was coming from. But it didn’t really matter to me. We had been politely asked to leave the Working Men’s Club a few hours earlier, when Mike had decided it was a good idea to unzip his pants, pull out his dangling balls, start swinging them around, and hitting a man’s arm with them. We were escorted out pretty quickly after that. Now, the night was old, and we were watching the final band of the evening. The boys were at the front of the crowd, but I had needed a bit of a breather. The main stage area was actually quite large, compared to everything else there. So the breather I was having felt needed. Also, I was totally fucked. The atmosphere of the festival was so stupidly friendly, there wasn’t a single part of me that was worried about the fact I was laying there on the floor with no one around me, not in the right frame of mind at all. But I wasn’t paranoid at all, and no one was giving me a reason to be. I could see why Zayn loved it there so much. “OI! Are you awake?” I heard above me. When I opened my eyes, Louis was there, floating above me, his smile growing once my eyes had opened and he had confirmation that I wasn’t dead. “Tommo!” I greeted. He sat down next to me, tucking his knees up to his chest and staring out to the rowdy crowd, who were still dancing, despite the fact it was the early hours, and everyone must have been as drunk as I was. With a hiccup, I sat upright next to him. He lit up a cigarette, offering me one, which I rejected, my eyes closing themselves as we watched in admiration. I knew Louis quite well, though I often forgot, and I knew this place was his idea of heaven too. “Do you like it here?” I asked him, though I knew the answer. “It’s sick. I love it.” “Me too.” I sighed drunkenly. I couldn’t help but flop my head onto his shoulder, trying my very best to keep my eyes open, but once again my body was failing me. The warmth of Louis radiated to my skin, and it only made me feel more exhausted. “I need to clear the air.” He mulled from nowhere. “Mm.” Was the only response I could summon. “Harry had words with me earlier.” Suddenly, he had my attention. The mere mention of Harry caused my eyes to shoot open in a way they hadn’t been capable of all evening. I wondered how that was even possible. “About what?” I gulped, moving my head from him. “He seems to think I still have feelings for you. I hope this doesn’t come out the wrong way, but, I don’t. Sorry.” He chuckled. Well, I knew that anyway, but what really had my attention about it was the fact that Harry had mentioned that to him. I needed to know the circumstances. “What? Wh-why did he even mention that? Was he like... I dunno. Was he telling you to go for it?” “No.” Louis shook his head. “He just asked me.” “And what did you say?” “I told him that it just wasn’t like that with us anymore. I also said I would always have a bit of a soft spot for you, but that’s normal.” “Definitely normal.” I agreed. “And I might always have a bit of a soft spot for you, too.” “N’awh, thanks Pip!” He giggled. “But what about you?” “What about me?” “You like anyone?” “Me? No.” I sputtered. “Pip.” He scalded. I knew then, he knew, but if I was lying to myself constantly, then I could definitely lie to Louis, and be convincing. Or at least I thought. “What?” I whelped. “Harry!” He told me. “Harry what?” “C’mon, Pip. Don’t bullshit me. I’ve seen the way your eyes go when you look at him. I know those eyes. They used to do it for me, but just… never that intense!” Louis could tell I needed to talk about it. He just knew it. He could see it eating me alive and he wanted to ease me of some of my pain. I also managed to forget that Louis Tomlinson knew me quite well, too. And out of everyone I knew, all my friends, even my family, it turned out Louis was the only person I felt comfortable talking about Harry with. “I really like him.” I finally admitted out loud. And I had said things similar before. I had spoken with Ronnie, briefly with Ringo, and even that random girl in the toilets of Jax. But never had it come out quite as honestly as that. “Does he know?” He asked me. “Does he fuck.” I snorted. “I can’t tell him.” “Well, why not?” “Because it will ruin everything!” “What if he likes you too?” He tried. “Do you get that impression?” I asked with glistening eyes. “I don’t know him that well.” Louis shrugged. “That means no!” “It does not! It means I don’t bloody know him that well!” I often forgot that boys like Louis weren’t quite as cryptic as girls like me. He genuinely meant what he said. The two of them got on well enough, but Louis genuinely did not know Harry that well at all. “He kisses me sometimes.” I admitted. “Really? Have you slept with him?” “No. But I think he knows that he could if he wanted to. He just obviously... doesn’t want to. I dunno. It’s complicated, I think. I dunno.” The band onstage disappeared briefly, and the crowd began roaring for an encore. I flopped my head back onto his shoulder as we stared out ahead of us. I felt completely deflated. I hated being so pessimistic, but all the answers were there in front of me, and they weren’t the answers I had wanted. “You should just tell him how you feel.” Louis tried again. “No. “Why? What’s the worst that could happen?” “We could move in together and everything could be so awkward that we can’t even be friends anymore, then Zayn will live with Harry in third year and I’ll have to get a house on my own which makes me so depressed that I fail my final year of uni and end up with no friends and no job and dying alone.” Louis slowly turned his head to me, eyes wide and mouth dropped open. A predicted reaction to my manic mind using my mouth as a filter. “That is pretty bad.” He gulped, before heaving out a laugh. “Exactly.” I personally, couldn’t laugh. “Or, he could say he likes you too.” Louis pointed out. Now this, wasn’t something I had ever really considered. I had thought about every possible outcome, but never the one where things worked out. Never the one where he was to say he liked me too. It just seemed so implausible. “He’s just... He’s so confident.” I stated. “I just think if he felt it… he would have said it.” Louis tilted his head so it was gently laying on top of mine, breathing heavily and tutting once as the band came back on stage and the crowd went totally wild. “I guess,” He sighed. “Some things just aren’t that easy to say.” + + + I fell on top of my tent before I fell into it. Though, I fell onto the tent all my own, and Zayn had to help me fall into it. My head crashed onto the blow-up pillow in my tent, and I was aware of Zayn laughing at my state behind me, but too tired and too drunk to care. “G’night, Pip.” He whispered. “NIGHT ZAYN!” “Get in your sleeping-bag.” “Meh.” I ignored his orders, and began drifting off into a peaceful sleep when he zipped up my tent for me, somehow managing to ignore the singing and chattering from other campers, and the lumpy floor beneath my tent, and began falling into the most calm, peaceful sleep imaginable. I was mere seconds away from being dead to the world when the zipper sounded again. I shot one eye open to see Harry crouched down in the entrance, smiling sweetly to me. “Can I come in?” He whispered. “Mhm. But I might fall asleep on you.” He came and lay down in the middle of the tent, since I took up one side and my mountains of crap took up the other. I had my stomach flat on the floor and my face turned his way, trying to keep my eyes open because he was a vision that I never wanted to miss. He stayed quiet for a while, and I think he was trying to prove something to himself. He was trying to prove, that even though I was so tired, and so drunk, even though my eyes were closing and I desperately needed to visit the land of nod, that I would stay awake for him. It pained me, forcing my eyes to stay open and watch him, forcing myself away from slumber, but I did. I stayed awake for him. Like he knew I would. “I saw you talking with Louis earlier.” He finally hushed. “You seemed pretty cosy.” I would have rolled my eyes if my body had the capability to. I turned my body so I was facing him too, and I must have shaken my head a little. “Very cosy.” I smiled. “We were talking about how we don’t like each other.” “Oh. Really?” He quizzed. “Yeah. You were off the mark.” I yawned. “I guess I was.” Things went quiet again. The way he watched me was pretty intense, I noticed, like he was waiting for me to say I was lying, that I had these hidden feelings for Louis that I had never told him about. I had nothing to admit. Well, maybe I did. But it wasn’t that. “I’m falling asleep.” I spoke, painfully quiet. “I’ll leave you to it. But, just so you know… I think Louis is mad, for not liking you.” Without saying anything else, he got out of my tent, zipping it up behind himself and then, I imagine, going across to his own little blue tent and getting a good night’s kip. But after hearing him say that, my mind was in such a whir, it wasn’t possible for me to sleep as comfortably as I was about to before he came into my little pink tent and fucked with my head.

#FESTIVAL TIME #BB32 #1DFF #Harry Styles #enjoy!!!!!!!

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darling-dooju · 6 years

Text

So...I’m back

A month ago was my birthday. I’m 19 now and I’m trying to figure out who it is I am in this moment. In this life. Pretentious I know but it’s true. I thought about my previous birthdays and how different my mindset was with each one. When I was little I used to get so excited about my birthday but now when it happens it feels more like a chore. There are many people out there that would probably tell me “that’s just how adulthood is” and they’re not wrong. A lot of adulthood is spent realizing that the world wasn’t as awesome as you thought it was. Maybe your favorite restaurant is run by an immoral CEO who exploits all the people who work for them, maybe there’s a movie you can’t watch anymore because one of the actors in it is a horrible human being, maybe the stress of money and responsibility sometimes stops you from fully enjoying yourself, maybe the people you’ve looked up to all your life let you down, whatever it is could be considered a part of growing up (though most certainly not only a part of such). It can make you think that maybe that’s all there is in life, more bad news, more disappointment, and more losing the things and people you loved.

And you know what? It isn’t.

I’m not exactly breaking new ground here, hell I know for fact I must sound like one of those posters you’d find in a counselor’s office but goddammit sometimes it needs to be said! It does! Consider this, how many positive things do you see on the internet? I mean really? How many times have you read something on Tumblr or elsewhere that made you feel like you’re going to be okay? This isn’t to say one should be ignorant about the world; I’m appreciative of all the things I’ve figured out on the internet, however negative, because it helps me get a better understanding of the world and the people around me. But when your life is constantly being bogged down by difficult stuff to stomach, what’s going to make you want to keep going?

So, why am I saying all of this thinkpiece shit? Because you, dearest reader, are going to see some positivity today. The universe is merciless and cruel but that doesn’t stop it from giving us wonderful things to experience and I want to take this time to remind myself and others that.

I’m not saying any of what I show you will make you happy, I’m not saying that you even have to be happy right now, I’m just saying that these are some things I consider good that I want to share with you. Because I love you and I want you to have good things. You deserve good things. Never forget that.

~💐Good Videos💐~

TWICE having fun while playing the Mafia game https://youtu.be/ZhZwfSJmvUM

Girl’s Day reminiscing about their years together, how hard they worked, and how they feel comforted being around each other

https://youtu.be/c-AiVk5d8MI?t=2m57s

Vromance getting drunk off their asses and still managing to harmonize well

https://youtu.be/IWlebuvIw_M

Nine Muses goofing around on Weekly Idol

https://youtu.be/dj8fBdb5iBY

MONSTA X and BTOB playing the Cleopatra game (AKA a high note battle). This may be one of the funniest things to ever happen in the history of comedy

https://youtu.be/B6rSRET2nZ8

SNSD jamming in the car

https://youtu.be/-u5yuoHOcOs?t=15s

~💐Good Music💐~

Melody Day - “LoveMe”

https://youtu.be/UMOVGU-IyHY

Travis - “Flowers In The Window” (no, I don’t quite fully understand the intent of the music video either)

https://youtu.be/AFvfX3Mfd9E

BTS- “Just One Day”

https://youtu.be/DTcKkcyS410

Janelle Monáe - “PYNK”

https://youtu.be/PaYvlVR_BEc

Nine Muses - “Figaro” (epilepsy warning the MV is a little flashy)

https://youtu.be/mCkfeMc-7IY

Carly Rae Jepsen - “Cut To The Feeling”

https://youtu.be/Qlsu7RhOnsQ

SEVENTEEN - “Pretty U”

https://youtu.be/J5juKw-mnGw

Josephine Oniyama - “What A Day”

https://youtu.be/WlijcmM1qzs

SONAMOO - “I Like U Too Much”

https://youtu.be/9YmVUjBB6Hc

Pigeon John - "The Bomb"

https://youtu.be/iFAFA3B3CWU

NCT DREAM - “Dunk Shot”

https://youtu.be/oxiFuxa_dJU

~💐Other Good Things💐~

Former Hello Venus member being supported on The Unit by current members of Hello Venus.

http://helbi.tumblr.com/post/170756084279/3-years-after-their-split-yoonjo-and-her-hello

There’s a service out there where moms give holiday messages to all LGBTQ people who are without family support and who would like a “stand-in” holiday family. Go give it a look-see it’s beautiful.

http://xiuminnis.tumblr.com/post/169974817909/thehippiejew-forsayingyes-gqgqqt-so-this

Sunyoung from f(x) started a campaign called “Girls Can Do Anything” where she’s selling underwear and the profits will go to donating sanitary pads and underwear to those who need it

https://lunahobi.tumblr.com/post/171778934945/luna-pics-on-twitter

We’re super close to getting polio eradicated all across the globe

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2991634/

Kelvin Peña, the guy in the viral vine where he fed deer, used his fame to start a campaign called “Everybody Eats” in hopes of helping families get food.

http://flap-monster.tumblr.com/post/171974312769/thetrippytrip-viral-deer-feeding-teen-kelvin

Do you love MONSTA X? Well guess what, Changgyun from MONSTA X loves you back. Here is his heart.

https://wongguk.tumblr.com/post/172701297851/kiihyun-this-is-my-heart

After the movie “Black Panther” came out, African run businesses selling African clothing such as Elegance African Fashions and Amooti have had a huge increase in sales

http://nacseo-scrawl.tumblr.com/post/172708370903/amid-black-panther-craze-african-clothing

Ya know how us Armies were upset at Hobi receiving rude comments about his cute sound effects during a Vlive? A fan combatted this issue by giving Hoseok a letter that said “we love your sound effects” and he was very touched

https://screaminghoseok.tumblr.com/post/172751466295/a-fan-gave-hobi-a-paper-at-the-puma-fan-sign

Janelle Monáe and Tessa Thompson being inclusive to trans women

http://loveisfx.tumblr.com/post/172870611207/bluearrow126-janelle-and-tessa-acknowledging

On doesthedogdie.com they keep track of a variety of triggers so you can feel assured before watching any movie that all is good

http://budgiebazooka.tumblr.com/post/173036459733/identitypollution-curface-omgkalyppso

No matter what you’re going through please know that Namjoon is cheering you on

http://bts-trans.tumblr.com/post/137099701425/160112-rap-monsters-tweets

San Francisco's will toss out or reduce thousands of criminal convictions for marijuana dating back decades

http://othegodmke.tumblr.com/post/171909926218

Janelle Monáe having a very heartwarming meet up with 10-year-old McKynzie Duhon, a fan who wants to be like her

http://bigboobsandsass.tumblr.com/post/173498261655/chubbyhubby00-puffthatdee

On October 12,1992 the indigenous people in San Cristóbal de las Casas toppled a statue of conquistador scumbag Diego de Mazariegos (the “founder” of the city) to the ground, beat it with a sledgehammer, then took pieces of the statue home as souvenirs to honor the historic event. Here is a picture from that day.

http://lati-negros.tumblr.com/post/78362715585/diasporadash-fuckyeahmarxismleninism-statue

India now has an entire railway station that runs on solar energy

https://qz.com/1280526/guwahati-is-indias-first-fully-solar-powered-railway-station/

Before I end this post I’ll leave you with this:

There are amazing things happening in this world everyday, every second, everywhere and you are one of them. I’m proud of you, even if you haven’t “done anything” today, even if you think you haven’t contributed anything to this day, I’m still extremely proud of you.

Go out there and keep living, I love knowing that you’re alive.

With pleasant regards,

Dooju

#I've had this in my drafts for a while #finally got around to finishing it #as always sorry for being gone for so long #I'm not the best at maintaining a blog am I?#but I really wanted to finish this #I have so much anxiety and bitterness deep within me and I'm just tired of catering to it #so I'm going to work on channeling the positive emotions that dwell inside my mind #and those positive emotions are the love I have for people and how they exist in this world #seriously if you're reading this I love you #i truly mean that #it's one of the only things I'm sure of #My Writing

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mixedharmonysimz · 7 years

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Mr.Knowles is it our time of the week again?

He Laughs before taking a hit of his THC vape pen “I don’t know doc you tell me you are the shrink.. so shrink me”

Charming as ever Mr.Knowles.. anyways what’s going on with you?

“Shit what isn’t going on with me.. i feel like i’m losing my grip on reality, nobody ever stays..”

Elaborate for me Sebastian. What do you mean nobody ever stays? Are you speaking of your ex?

“Nobody ever stays meaning just that everyone I ever loved always leave” he sits up rubbing his face “No fuck her and her life at this point! sorry excuse my french.. but i don’t even want to mention her at all during this session at all because it won’t help the situation..”

Mr.Knowles lets talk about this. What happened between you two this time?

“Let’s just say i beat up her “friend” that she crept with not out of jealousy but because don’t disrespect me at all and not expect me to react.. and it was a bloody mess literally.. he’s okay tho maybe.. shit i don’t fucking know hell i don’t talk to him..” he laughs “but seriously i don’t want to breath anymore life into her or him during this session seriously...”

Okay that’s understandable Mr.Knowles. Are your med ready to be recalibrated?

“Dr.June i haven't took those meds ever and i’m not going to because nothing is wrong with me i’m perfectly fine..”

Okay Mr.Knowles if you say so. So do you have control on your alcoholism?

“I’m NOT an alcoholic.. I don’t wake up every morning with a 5th to my mouth let’s make that abundantly clear Doctor...” He looks at her sternly “I’m not hungover now if that’s what your next question is...”

I see. How’s your marijuana and other Drug consumption?

“You know what Dr.June i don’t like how your making it seem like i have problems with drugs and alcohol and things of that nature I don’t take the pills anymore and as for marijuana i need that so i don’t have to take that damn prescription you wrote out for me..”

Mr.Knowles I don’t intend to make you feel like an addict i’m just checking in and making sure i’m not missing anything valuable to your treatment.

“I appreciate it but could you at least try to word it differently” he laughs

She chuckles and nods. So what are you thinking about?

“Something someone told me.. that I’m looking and or crying for help with my actions and i’m just afraid to admit it” he looks down “Truth is doc i’m screaming for help.. this year for my birthday i had a small party with just close friends and i made a wish.. that wish was i just want to be loved.. unconditionally..”

What is unconditional love to you Sebastian?

He sighs “Someone who doesn’t leave me or cheat on me or treat me like some addict I’m not that..” he covers his face hiding his eyes “I just want someone that is mine and only mine and no one else’s is that to much to ask for”

No it is not Mr.Knowles that’s all anyone ever asks for. Are you feeling alone again?

“I am alone.. I’ve been alone ever since Cassie died that night so many years ago.. no one knows me the way she did.. she should be here"

Have you ever thought that maybe since you hold on to her death so much that it triggers you to want to stay Inebriated whether it’s pills or alcohol Mr.Knowles.

“Yes i thought about that everyday since i been self numbing the pain..it keeps the thoughts away temporarily..I been trying but the feelings of being alone always creep up on me and can’t help but self medicate..”

You know since I've been your therapist I've seen the hurt the pain and sorrow in your eyes Sebastian. You use to never open up and now look at you. you’re making great progress every session..

‘I don’t feel like it Dr.June..but thank you it means a lot to me that you say your seeing growth in me..” he flashes a smile

That’s because it’s true. But now our finale question before our session ends are you prepared to indulge me?

“Yes lay it on me Doc..” He chuckles softly

What is your biggest regret and fear?

He looks her directly in the eyes “My biggest regret is that I trusted and loved the wrong person once again in my life..” he bites his lip “my biggest fear is dying alone because i trusted the wrong person with my heart..”

Thanks for indulging me with your regrets and fears Mr.Knowles.. I know it may not seem like it at this moment in your life, but you will find love and the right person who will silence your fears and feelings of being alone.. it will happen when you least expect it don’t run or coward from it once it does or you will in fact push the person away.. Continue trying to manage your alcohol intake be safe when drinking is the most important thing besides moderation.

#SebastianKnowles #Dr.Junesessions #freewritting

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find-a-way-2-my-heart · 6 years

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Seven Deadly Sins Challenge - Gluttony

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my overactive imagination

A/N: This was written in 2011 for a challenge in a LJ group of JM Fanfic I was part of.

Pairing: John Mayer x OC (Not romantic)

Word count: 2429

Warnings: Trigger warning on addiction and overdose.

This is me thinking outside the box and presenting a different take on gluttony (with a touch of greed), I do not mean any harm with it. I don’t claim any expertise about the issues depicted here, they were written based on Internet research, not on firsthand experience. Now that this is out of the way, this is dark and it was a rather painful experience for me to write, but I did enjoy the challenge.

Gluttony Gluttony, derived from the Latin gluttire meaning to gulp down or swallow, means over-indulgence and over-consumption of food, drink, or intoxicants to the point of waste. The sin of Gluttony represents the insatiable desire of the human being to have more than it actually has and needs. Most of the time, people consider gluttony the sin of eating excessively and more than needed, but this sin is also related to human selfishness: wanting to have more and more, not really happy about what already got. A form of greed. *** He had it all. He was John Mayer, guitarist extraordinaire and acclaimed lyricist. Sold out arenas were commonplace, even though he sometimes remembered fondly of the days he would play at small clubs in Connecticut and Atlanta, waiting for his big break. He was living the dream. He was right now what he had known he would become from the first time he touched a guitar. His drive and his willingness to succeed had brought him here, they had pushed him on the top. Ever since he was a young boy, struggling to get school over with and to be able to finally fully follow his dream. He had always wanted more, he knew in his gut that he was destined for more, and he wouldn’t just be satisfied with a quiet life in Connecticut, with a wife and 2.5 kids, a nine to five job and a cute house with a white picket fence. No, that wasn’t for him, at least not right now. He needed more, he always wanted more. He used to revel on his concerts – they used to be everything he needed. It used to be enough to just watch, for those couple of hours, thousands of people enjoying themselves, singing along to his words, dancing to his music. And then it wasn't enough anymore. It had turned into a routine, and he was growing tired of it. Being at the top started to get old, and he was getting restless. He craved the new, he didn’t like routine, he didn’t like patterns. Dating a string of different women certainly helped, but it wasn’t enough. Playing with the paparazzi? That got old too. Foot in the mouth remarks on interviews? Also ran its course. And then his ship had come to a new port. He found a new thrill, the thrill of the secret, the thrill of no one knowing what he was doing. It had started slowly, so slowly that he didn't even notice, so slowly that it had engulfed him so completely, and he didn't want it to stop. He knew it was dangerous, that he would be fucked beyond belief if anyone found out, but he was smart. He knew how to hide it well. At least, most of the time. First it was the couple of swigs of scotch before show time. Just enough to get him relaxed, but not enough for others to notice what he was doing. Soon those swigs evolved to a couple of pills of e that he had tried for the first time at a night club and had appreciated the results. It made him perform better, it made him feel like he owned the world. But then, as usual, it had grown old, and then it had evolved to a couple of lines snorted in his dark dressing room. "John doesn't like being disturbed before concerts, he likes to be alone, to concentrate." That was the story that ran around, but it had ceased to be the truth a long time ago. It still amazed him how everyone hadn't noticed anything. Well, one person had come close to it, but he had quickly shut her off of his life. He loved her, he loved her a lot, but he loved his release more. She didn't have any right to meddle, no one had. He knew what he was doing and he had everything under control. She had quickly found solace in his brother's arms, they had gotten married and were expecting their first child. That had happened almost four years before, and he had been the perfect figure at their wedding two years ago. Always smiling, talking to everyone, and even joking about how Julia had indeed 'married the good one'. All those in-between little escapades to the bathroom, followed by the careful cleaning of his nose. But the lines became old, he yearned for something new, and then some random chick introduced him to heroin. He loved it. He started easy, but soon he was injecting more and more. He was smart enough to inject it on his tattooed arm. The tattoos were enough to hide the marks, or so he thought. The first one to finally notice something was off was Chad. He’d noticed that John was struggling to keep the guitar in place, and that he had even missed a few notes because of that. But it was the end of tour, they all were tired and stressed, he didn’t pay that much attention to it. But then he started to pick up on the tiny details. John had started to get sloppy, especially at home, and it was at home that Chad found the first syringe. It had alarmed him, but he refused to panic, John had a lot of friends, and Chad knew that many of those friends did have not so nice habits, and John was never one to follow suit, he was too stubborn – and proud – to do that. It was only when he finally walked on John actually doing it, when he had forgotten his wallet at home and drove back to get it, that Chad started to panic. John hadn’t seen him, he was way to engrossed in what he was doing to be able to notice anything besides the syringe in his hands. Chad called Carl first, but Carl dismissed the thought of his little brother doing something like that. John had always had a good head over his shoulders, he was way too smart to let something like that get to him. Ben was next. He’d admitted that he had noticed a few things here and there, but he blamed work and stress. He also didn’t believe that John could be doing something like that. His opinion mirrored Carl’s in many ways. It was probably just a one-time thing, and Chad shouldn’t worry. A few weeks later, it was the press that had started to notice something. John didn’t hit the gym anymore, instead he was either holed up in his house, or out with a bunch of new ‘friends’. They’d go to night clubs to dance and drink the night away, and John would leave with a different woman in each arm, visibly inebriated. Thankfully, he’d keep his mouth shut. When the press started to pick up on more strong leads, those parties were transferred to John’s house. Chad would feel sick seeing the companions his best friend had chosen for himself. It was disgusting to watch those people drug themselves into oblivion, not caring if anyone was watching. It was on a Sunday morning after one of those parties that Chad finally confronted John. They argued and Chad then took a good look at his friend and felt his heart tighten at his noticeable loss of weight, at how dim his eyes were, at how emaciated his appearance had become. The friends fought, but John was undeterred, it wasn’t a big deal, he had everything under control, Chad didn’t know what he was talking about, he could stop whenever he felt like it. Chad tried to reason, tried to bring him to his senses and show that he was most probably throwing his career through the window. But John refused to listen. Instead, he had injected another dose, not really minding Chad’s presence, flipping him off. Chad paced up and down his room, his hands sweating and his entire body trembling. He didn’t even know what to do, no one believed him, and even now he thought it would be too late to stage an intervention, John was too far gone and something bad could happen, he just felt in the pit of his stomach that he didn’t have time, he had to act fast. But what would he do? A few hours later, Chad tiptoed down the stairs and was greeted by silence. The living room reeked of alcohol and marijuana. There was no sight of John, so Chad started to gather the bottles and the remains of the party, intending to keep his mind occupied. A sound came from his left, he couldn’t quite distinguish if it was a groan or just a random sound. Turning around he first spotted the feet, and the sound grew louder. He ran to the side of the couch, and there was John, face down in his own vomit, a syringe in his hand and apparently unable to move. The sounds, he could identify them now, were small choking sounds, John was suffocating. Chad quickly turned him around and cleaned his face the best he could, but her noticed that John’s breathing was still rather shallow. His skin felt clammy to the touch and his lips were turning noticeably purple. Grabbing the first telephone he was able to find, he dialed 911 and, following the paramedic’s instructions through the phone he tried to preserve the least bit of conscience John still seemed to have. He rode with him in the ambulance and watched as the paramedics tried to help him. Chad felt like curling into a ball in the corner and crying, but he couldn’t. He had people to call, and he had to make sure that the press didn’t catch a hold of what was going on, at least not yet. As they arrived at the hospital and John was taken to the ER, Chad started to make his calls, he called Carl, Ben and John’s manager. Carl and Ben took to themselves the responsibility to let John’s parents know. He also called a few of his friends in Los Angeles, he couldn’t be alone, or else he would go insane. Bob was the first one to show up and it was in his shoulder that Chad cried the tears he had been holding in ever since he had spotted John splayed on the ground. It was a long time until someone came outside with news. John had survived, they had pumped his stomach and had done everything they could to counter the effects of the drugs in his system. He was sedated, since he needed his rest for the withdrawal he was going to go through soon. Bob and Chad started to shop for rehab facilities and they had three sorted out when Carl and Ben stormed into the waiting room the next day. By then John was already conscious, but he couldn’t see anyone as he was still severely confused and in the early stages of withdrawal. After talking to Carl and Ben, the doctors agreed to transfer him to a rehab facility, and that was done with a lot of struggle on John’s part, but they finally succeeded. Two weeks after the episode, John was sitting on a bench in the facility’s garden. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about his problem, he had just made sure that no one was allowed to visit, mostly his brothers and Chad, since they were responsible for taking away his release. He wouldn’t be able to go on without it and it was all their fault. He was staring at nowhere when he felt someone grab his hand. She was a patient like him, as she was wearing a uniform much like his own, but the color of her bracelet, green, as opposed to his red one, told him that she probably was at the end of her treatment. She looked at the marks on both of his arms, and then started to talk, even though he turned away and didn’t give her any sign that he would reply. She told him about her experience with drugs, on how they made her feel empowered and happy, on how she thought she had everything under control, until everything had fallen apart and she had almost died, much like himself a couple of weeks before. “You know, John,” she said softly, as she caressed each of the swollen marks on his arm, “We are always wanting more, we always want what we don’t have, we love the unknown, and then we find them, those little pieces of heaven, that make you feel so good for a few moments, but that can be your hell for the rest of your life.” She took a deep breath, and he could sense that it was hard for her to admit it all. He had no idea why she wanted to help him, why she seemed to think he needed help at all. “And then, when the rug is swept out from under you, you realize that you are about to lose everything. Your family, your friends, your career, everything thrown away because of a flimsy piece of heaven, because of something that isn’t real, something that doesn’t do any good.” “I know how you feel, believe me. I’ve been there not long ago, but then I decided that I didn’t need crutches, I was stronger than them, and I would walk on my own, I wouldn’t let my parents lose respect for me, I would apologize to all the friends I’d disappointed along the way, and I’d make sure to do the best in my career, because I had people who depended on me, who looked up to me, and I wouldn’t want them to look up to a failure. I’m not a failure, I’ve won, and so will you,” she said at last, patting his hand and standing up. She left as swiftly as she’d arrived. When he was sure that she couldn’t see him any longer, he allowed the tears to flow freely down his cheeks. Later that day, John headed to the group session, as usual. It was the time when everyone had the chance to talk about their progress and share experiences. He had attended several of those since he had first been brought there, but had never uttered a word. Until today. The counselor asked who wanted to go first and, surprising everyone – even himself - John stood up and said, loud and clear, “Hi, my name is John and I have an addiction.”

#John Mayer #jhnmyr #John Mayer Fanfic #JM Fanfic #John x OC #Fan Fiction #FanFic #FanFiction #RPF

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rxsie-the-demon · 3 years

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Brooklyn Baby | JJ Maybank

chapter summary: Nikki and the Pogues devise plans for revenge. However, something they’re not aware of may completely skewer these plans! JJ and Nikki bicker, while the latter works to learn as much as she can about the Cameron family.

warning: marijuana usage. i don’t think this should be triggering for anyone but nikki and topper are smoking and i go into a bit of detail (shoutout google research lmao) and also swearing

a/n: lmao i said i wasn’t gonna disappear again and i did just that. a lot of the things mentioned aren’t canon- they’re just from my imagination btw

SERIES MASTERLIST | chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four

Chapter 5: High by the Beach

John B’s POV

I kept wiping the same spot on the counter, trying to suppress my nerves. Maybe she’s just a few minutes late, I told myself. But I had to laugh. She was never late. In the six months I knew her, she was never late.

I glanced over at the drink I had set out for her. I hope it wasn’t getting warm. I needed today, just today, go to well. If everything goes according to plan, then it’ll all finally be worth it.

I heard the door of the bar swing open, and saw the lady I had been waiting for walk in. She was an intimidating woman, with deep, mahogany skin and long, curly hair. She was wearing black heels, a black women’s suit, and was clutching a suitcase. Her hands, almost always perfectly done with red nail polish, were closed tightly in a fist.

But it was her eyes that carried her power. She was the kind of woman who made you nervous when you walked into a room, who made you straighten your posture and nod your head.

Miss Agumanu is a lawyer working for a firm that’s notorious for taking criminals as clients. One of these clients is a bank that holds black money, and at 4 pm sharp for the past six months, she would walk into the bar of the hotel Sarah and I had been working at since we wound up in Nassau.

It was completely luck; she wanted to become a lawyer to get rid of criminals and ended up landing a job helping them. I had very vaguely mentioned my situation, and through lots of hints from both sides, we finally figured out that she indirectly works for the bank holding the gold- my gold- in the Bahamas.

She placed her suitcase down on the chair next to me, and I jogged over and pushed the drink towards her. She chuckled, her Jamaican accent present when she said; “Am I that predictable?”

I chuckled a little. She downed the whole thing, and I felt my heart drop. I went on to make another. “So, I’m guessing bad news?” I mumbled, not wanting to turn around.

“No, John B. Not at all, actually.”

I spun around and almost dropped the bottle of rum. “What?”

“Make the drink and I’ll explain.”

I threw the ingredients into the shaker, pulled a chilled glass out, and poured the drink. I guess she could tell I was nervous, because she laughed and told me to calm down. Once she downed her other drinks, she started.

“For some reason, I don’t know how or why, but the bank cannot hold the gold. My guess is that they don’t have enough money to ensure it because the gold is worth a lot. So, this Saturday, they’re sending it back to the Outer Banks. This has been the plan for a few months but it only got finalized today.”

“Doesn’t it seem a bit rushed? It’s only, what, Wednesday?” I narrowed my eyebrows. I trusted her, but this seemed too good to be true.

She shrugged. “I’m too tired to explain all the nitty gritty details, but the main point is that the gold is going back to your home, which means you and Sarah can go, too. The gold is most likely going to be stored in Ward Cameron’s property- maybe his yacht, or one of his other boats, or even in his house.”

“Somewhere secluded would be smarter, though, right?” I asked.

“Yes, it would be. He seems like the type of man to build a place for storage but I am also aware of the fact that he barely managed to escape murder accusations, so he’s trying not to draw any unwanted attention towards himself.” Miss Agumanu shrugged. She got up out of her seat, grabbed her suitcase, and turned to shake my hand. “It was nice meeting you, John B Routledge. I hope to see you soon, but not too soon.”

I shook her hand and smiled. I was going home.

*********************************************

I flopped down onto our bare mattress and stretched. I was exhausted, having to work for from 3 in the afternoon to 2 am with only a half hour break, but it was all worth it. Sarah, who was in our shared bathroom, came out and crawled into bed next to me and pulled the thin, faded cotton blanket over us.

The nice luxurious hotel we worked out gave us the smallest employees quarters, with only a bathroom to accompany it. No bed, nothing. After all, our employment was suspicious. But we took it. We had no other choice.

A part of me felt bad for dragging Sarah into this. After all, she’s a Kook. She wasn’t used to this type of lifestyle. I was, so it didn’t bother me. But she wasn’t.

But when she smiled at me, I knew she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. “We’re so close,” she whispered into my ear. “Just one more week.”

I turned my head to plant a kiss on her forehead. “I couldn’t have done this without you. Words really cannot express how grateful I am for you, for all of this, Sarah.”

After six months of struggling, of working countless hours in this stuck up, Kook-like resort, of sneaking food in from the kitchen to our small living quarters and almost getting fired at least 3 times each, and of countless sleepless nights spent planning, Sarah and I can finally go home.

And we can finally bring that cunt Ward Cameron down.

*********************************************

Nikki’s POV

I snatch JJ’s phone from him. “We are not getting pineapple as a topping!”

“AND WHY THE HELL NOT?!” he snapped, jumping up from his seat on the couch to try to take his phone back. “Just ‘cause you- you cultureless mainlanders can’t appreciate real flavor-”

“REAL FLAVOR? Ok-” I dodge an attempt for him to grab it. “Listen. First, I’m a New Yorker. I think I know pizza. Second! Pineapples are delicious!! When they’re 30 feet the fuck away from the top of my pizza. They don’t belong there. Sweet. Does. Not. Belong. On. Pizza.”

“You’re a rich brat, you don’t know real pizza!”

“Pizza is pizza! Being rich doesn’t have anything to do with it!”

He tries to grab it a few more times, but I spun around and ran into the kitchen, where Kie and Pope sitting on the counter next to each other and giggling.

“Yes?!” JJ and I shout at the same time.

“Nothing,” Kie laughed

“Hey, if you’re laughing about the pizza, it’s not my fault this one here lacks flavor.” I jerk my head towards him, and he groaned in annoyance.

“Gimme my phone back.” He stomped around to face me and extended is hand out. “Now?!”

I smirked. “Why, so you could order that sad excuse of a pi-?”

“HAVE YOU TRIED IT?!”

“I HAVE, AND IT IS NOT THAT GOOD.”

“GUYS!” Pope shouted. “I get it, we’re hungry, it’s noon. We’ve been working hard researching the Royal Merchant. Nikki, please give JJ his phone back.”

I pouted and handed him his phone back. He stuck his tongue out at me and I kicked his shin.

“OW! Did you guys see that?”

“Guys.” Kie warned. She pulled out her phone and sighed. “I’ll order pizza with no toppings. Sound good?”

I nodded and JJ groaned. “Sounds good to me.”

JJ mimicked me in a falsetto voice, to which I spun around and said: “Something you want to say, Maybank?”

He snorted. “Nothing, Pillow Princess.”

“Ok, you know what-”

“Guys!” Pope and Kie shouted.

“Sorry, sorry!” I raised my hands up defensively, walking over to ice box in front of the fridge and opened it.

Inside were some glass Coke and Corona bottles. I shrugged and took a Coke, then walked outside to where there was a little campfire type thing with foldable chairs and ripped up bungalows.

I sat down on one of the ripped up couches and opened my Coke. February was coming close, and it was starting to warm up again. Luckily, today was really nice; 63 degrees with barely any wind or clouds. I closed my eyes and rested my head back. Oh, how I’ve missed this weather. It’s like spring in New York.

I felt a shadow pass over me and heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. “Ahem.”

I peeped an eye open and saw JJ to my left. “Yes, Maybank?”

“You’re in my seat.”

I opened both eyes and looked around sarcastically. “I can’t see your name anywhere.”

He huffed. “I always sit there. Always.”

I took a sip of my drink. When JJ was about to add more, I held up a finger and took another sip. “Yeah, I can tell. It’s nice and comfortable.” I turned to him and smiled. “Thanks!”

JJ covered his face with his hands and exhaled loudly. That’s when I noticed one of his three silver rings, the other two being plain with no design, had a skull on it. “Ooh, that’s a nice ring.”

He removed his hands from his face and smiled sarcastically. “Thanks! Can I have my seat?”

“Oh my- if it’s such a big deal, here, O Great Prince of the Pogues!” I stood up and bowed dramatically, making sure not to spill my soda. He flopped onto the seat happily

“Could you grab me a beer, sweetheart?” He smiled.

I bent down, picked up a handful of dirt with my free hand, and cocked my arm back. “What’d you call me?”

He put his hands up defensively. “Woah, woah! I just got this shirt!”

“Oh, please. That shirt is as dull as your personality.” I dropped the dirt and shook my hand, not wanting to wipe them on my jeans.

“Oh, fuck you, Kook. Not all of us can afford Gucci or Channel-”

“Chanel,” I corrected. “It’s French.”

“Whatever!”

I huffed. Yes, JJ Maybanks is an annoying prick, but he’s friends with Kie and Pope, so I have to deal with him. “I’ll get you your beer if I can sit in the seat.”

“We could share it.” JJ made a show of scooting over a bit and pointing at the empty spot.

“You’re insufferable. Even my baby sister wouldn’t fit. What do you want me to do, sit on your lap?”

“Oh, don’t act like you wouldn’t want to.”

My face flushed red. “You-” I began, but I didn’t know what to say; it was like my brain short circuited or something. JJ saw my reaction and covered his mouth to laugh.

“Oh, you’re so easy to tease, princess.”

I flipped him off and jogged toward’s the front of the house. I threw my empty soda can in the trash, then opened the door too see Kie and Pope making out in the kitchen.

“In front of my SALAD?!” I gasped loudly, hoping to scare them. Kie off the counter and Pope turned, saw me, then felt onto the ground in a panic.

“I hate you.” Kie covered her face.

“WE WEREN’T EVEN HAVING SEX!” Pope added, getting up

I laughed and went over to the sink to wash my hands, then I grabbed two Coronas and kicked the door open to go back outside. JJ was leaning back in his seat- ew, no, THE seat- with his hands behind his neck, head rested up and eyes closed. I tried not to notice, but I had to admit, he was attractive.

He was wearing a black Metallica hoodie, jeans, and normal, black vans. A simple outfit, but it fit well on him. And the way the sun fell on his tanned skin and blond hair made him look like what I’d imagine Apollo, the Greek god, would look like.

If only he wasn’t such a stuck-up ass...

I approached JJ and lightly tapped his shin with my foot. He peeped an eye open and squinted. “Could ya move just a bit to the-”.

“No.”

“But my poor eyes!”

I took a right diagonal step forward to block the sun from JJ’s face. He opened both eyes and clapped his hands together

“Perfect!” He smiled and stretched his hand out. I raised the beer up above my head.

“Say please.” I said sweetly. He raised his eyebrows and stood up. I took a step back as he took a step forward, and he leaned in close to my face. I awkwardly lowered my arm, and gulped nervously. What the fuck was he doing? Why was he so close to me?

He smiled and took the beer from my hand. “Thank you, Princess,” he said, then he flopped back onto his seat and opened his beer.

I took a deep breath. I felt like my brain short circuited, and when I had gathered the mental strength to say something to JJ, when Kie and Pope came out. “PIZZA’S HERE!!” Kie shouted.

I turned to JJ. “Hey, you said I could sit there!”

“I said you could sit here with me.”

“You little bitch-”

****************************************************************

“Alright, let’s go over the plan in parts again.” I shuffled nervously in the seat that I was sharing with JJ. I wasn’t going to sit in it, but Kiara more or less dragged me over and said I needed to start getting along with JJ.

She did also wink at me, but I have no idea what she was trying to do there.

The sun was setting, creating a kaleidoscope of purples, pinks, oranges, and yellows, and we had decided to have s’mores.

“Alright,” Kie said from the foldable chair across from us. “Basically, all you have to do is what you’re doing right now; get close to Rafe and Topper. Kelce was never much of a threat-”

“Except when he jumped me and JJ that one time we were delivering groceries.” Pope interjected.

“You deliver groceries?” I asked.

“My dad owns a boat and gets groceries. Like stuff you can’t find on the island.” Pope clarified, leaning over to hand me a s’more. I thanked him and took a bite.

“Basically,” JJ leaned close to me. “His dad’s the plug.”

I felt my heartbeat start to pick up. Why. Was. He. So. Close. To. Me.

“NO, DO NOT-” Pope started.

“Pope, I’m not going to ask your dad for drugs. JJ, shut up. But ok, get close to Rafe and Topper. What about the other Kooks?”

“Scarlett is fine, she’s not a bad person,” Kie scratched her head. “Kelce...ok, keep tabs on him. Rafe and Topper are our main threats. Especially Rafe. I know you think he’s changed, but we can’t trust him. Getting close to him and his family is our top priority.”

“It’ll be easy for you to win Topper over, if you haven’t already,” JJ said, shrugging. “He wants to bone you.”

I made a face. “Gross.” I turned my head back to look at Kie. “But he’s right, Topper does wanna fuck me.”

“Ok, who else does that leave?” Pope asked.

“Ward Cameron.” JJ responded through a mouth-full of his s’more. “The fucking psycho himself.”

“My family and I have to get close enough to the Cameron family to gain access to the house on a regular basis.” I began.

“And be able to go in one day when Ward and Rafe aren’t there to search the office for anything incriminating.” Kiara said.

There was a silence after she said that. It’d be bad, and I mean bad, if I got caught. Ward Cameron isn’t a gangster by any means, but he’s a rich, powerful man, who covered up a murder once. Who’s to say it wouldn’t happen again?

“But I got it,” I said dismissively, “This will be a peace of cake. Topper wants to hang out tomorrow after school by the beach. I have a plan on getting his guard down.” I winked.

Pope gasped. “That wink...GIRL ARE YOU GONNA- YOU KNOW- ?!” He covered his mouth with his hands. “IN PUBLIC? DAMN.”

JJ chuckled. “Wow, didn’t know you were into that.”

I was confused for a second, before it hit me. “Get your heads out of the gutter!. First, a friend of mine likes Topper-”

“Who?” All three Pogues asked.

“It’s a secret. Second, I meant weed. I’m gonna get him high. So, JJ, do you have any weed and wraps to spare?”

JJ looked at me with utter disbelief. “You want me to give you my weed, so that you and Topper can smoke it together? Hell fucking no. It’s bad enough you’re a Kook, and now you want to give my weed to someone who literally tormented all of us?”

“NOT EVERYTHING HAS TO BE ABOUT POGUES AND KOOKS, JJ!” I stood up out of the seat. This whole Kook-Pogue thing wasn’t funny anymore; JJ was beginning to really piss me off.

“Listen, sweetie,” He stood up as well. “You haven’t been here long enough, but everything on this island is about Pogues and Kooks.”

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief, and from the corner of my eye I could see Kie and Pope shoot him a dirty look, but he kept going.

“Sorry if your privileged ass can’t see it-” He pointed a finger at me when he said this- “but that’s just how it is. Pogues and Kooks don’t mix. We aren’t friends. Kie and Sarah were the only exceptions.”

“This isn’t about Pogues or Kooks!” I shoved him. “This is about your friends- not mine, by the way, died. This is about the fact that I’m risking my ass for two kids that I’ve never met while you sit around here and do next to nothing.”

JJ was silent. He looked away, and I could see he looked embarrassed. But I kept going.

“I get you hate people from Figure 8. I do. I’m sorry that your life is hard. But you don’t have to make me feel bad about it all the time, especially since I’ve never done anything to you.”

I expected him to snap back at me with something but there was a look in his eyes when I finished that made a part of me regret going off the way I did. He awkwardly sat back in his seat and I walked across him to sit in one of the cold, empty chairs.

I took a bite of my s’more. The silence was uncomfortable, and I was going to apologize for going off when Kie said, “I think we should head home. We have school tomorrow. Nikki, let’s go,” she shot finger guns at me.

Pope stood up and stretched. “Yeah, you’re right, we should head on home. See ya!” He started to walk towards the house, and Kie walked around the fire towards me to head to my car.

I took a couple steps before I stopped and turned around. “Isn’t he gonna go home?” I whispered to Kie. JJ was still sitting on his seat, hands stretched towards the fire. It’s not because I cared or anything, but it was weird that we were all going home and he hadn’t moved at all.

She hesitated before she answered me. “Uh, yeah, he will. His dad works late so he’s probably gonna stay here til he gets off work.”

A part of me thought she was lying, or there was more to it, but I shrugged it off, figuring that it was none of my business. “Alrighty, let’s go.” I nodded towards my car.

Kie kept turning to face JJ, who was now just sitting in his seat, facing the fire. I couldn’t see his face, but it seemed like he was sleeping or resting; his hands were in his hoodie’s pocket and he was slouching. There’s definitely something going on there.

But it’s not my business.

“Last one to the car loses!” I shouted, sprinting towards the car. I wanted to cheer Kie up, and it worked. She spun around and cried out, “NO FAIR!” Before proceeding to sprint after me. But I had won, and smacked the top of my car.

“Ok, you know what’s my fav part about this car?” I inhaled loudly, resting my hands on my knees. Kie stumbled to a stop and shook her head.

“No, what?” She put her hands on her hips and steadied her breathing.

I straightened myself up and pressed the unlock button. “The doors.” The my two car doors, which one would assume would pull out, went upwards like wings instead.

“You’re such a show off,” Kie sighed. “But you’re right, every time I sit in your car I feel like a celebrity or something.”

“Right?!” I exclaimed, beckoning her to sit in the car. We got in and buckled ourselves up. “The best part about it is that this particular Aventador is that it’s a hybrid car. Better for the environment.” I put the car in reverse and began to back out, then turned it around and drove forward to get onto the road.

“Wow.” Kie sounded impressed. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t, actually, I’m not much of a car person. But I researched this car!”

“Well, don’t tell that to JJ. Between you and me, he likes your car.”

I tried my best not to turn my head to face Kie, because I wanted to keep my eyes on the road. “Wait, actually?”

“Well, who wouldn’t like an Lamborghini? But he’ll never admit it to your face. He doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction of knowing something Kooky impressed him”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course not. Maybe I’ll be nice and offer to drive us all somewhere so he can sit in it. But he better not take any pics of the car. At least, not without me.”

Kie through her head back and laughed, and I joined her. It seemed both of our moods had improved.

*************************************

I flopped onto my bed and sighed. I had dropped Kie home, took a shower, did my skincare routine, and now I lay in bed.

One of the agreements I had with Krish and Mal was that I could decorate my room however I wished. My walls and bed set were both a light purple. My bed, dresser, and hanging mirror were black. Behind my bed, which was pressed against a wall, was a black and white sun and moon tapestry; a picture of the moon with a face on it, and two halves of the sun beside it.

TikTok lights, like, the stereotypical ones, lined up the walls near the ceilings, set to purple. And purple fairy lights were on the wall across from my bed, near my dresser. And lastly, at the farthest end of the room, was a small, purple couch.

It’s safe to say my favorite color is purple.

One of the best parts about moving to the Outer Banks was, in fact, my room. I didn’t feel comfortable in Krish and Mal’s house in New York, even though New York is my home. It didn’t feel right, it felt like I was intruding.

But here, it was a fresh start. Even if it was abrupt. A fresh start meant no more nightmares, no more panic attacks, no more -

Beep!

I turned my head quickly, and winced when I got whip lash. I was so lost in thought that the notification on my phone spooked me.

I grab my phone, still having my hand on my neck, and unlocked it to see who texted me.

“Who the hell..?” I whispered. It was an unknown number.

‘Hey’ the text said. I frowned. I saw the area code and searched it up quickly and saw it was a North Carolina area code. I didn’t open it immediately, and saw the person was still typing.

‘Come by the Chauteau tmrw before you get to school’

I narrowed my eyes again, then I put it together.

‘is this jj?’ I asked.

‘Ye’ he responded. I quickly added him to my contacts. A part of me wanted to say more to him, but I didn’t.

At least the texts sent blue, I joked to myself. I put my phone down and dimmed my lights. My phone beeped again, and I picked it up.

‘Sorry about earlier’

‘it’s alr idc’

To which he left me on read. A part of me thought the ‘I don’t care’ was a tad bit harsh. So I added. ‘i’ll see u tmrw. gn jj’

‘Goodnight’

******************************************************

“You sure you don’t want me to pick you up?” I asked Kie through Facetime as I leaned right into my mirror to applied some mascara.

“I’m good, don’t worry. I’m gonna hang out with Pope and have breakfast with him before I go to school.”

“But are you sure-”

“Girl.” Kie laughed. “I promised JJ isn’t gonna murder you or something.”

“You never know...” I said. Closing the mascara tube and readjusting my outfit. I was wearing a dark blue cardigan crop top with white and light blue squares on it, like an argyle style. Complete with high-waisted patchwork jeans and black vans.

Kie smacked her hand against her forehead. “Just get the weed and smoke with Topper. And try not to get caught, ok?”

I laughed. “I’ll try. But wait, were you the one who gave him my number?”

Kie gave me an evil little smile through the screen as she walked throughout her house. “Perhaps...Look, I know you may think otherwise, but I know JJ and he’s totally into you, he just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Um...girl? No fucking way. And I don’t want to be with someone who’s so rude to me.”

“I know, I know, which is why I’m gonna tell him to get his shit together so he has a chance.”

I scoffed. “He hates Kooks, and he reeks of bad boy energy. He’s probably going to get me arrested or something. And let’s say he does get his act together, he’s gonna have to do a lot of hard work on his end to make up for the shit he’s said to me.”

“He means well! And despite what you think, there is a sweet side to him.”

“Mhm, right. Totally.”

“Just trust me. And don’t tell me you aren’t attracted to him. I see the way you guys look at each other, it’s like you want to rip each other’s cloth-”

“ALRIGHT, alright, I’ll admit he’s attractive, but that’s it. He’s funny, can be nice, and is hot. That’s it. That’s all there is.” I rubbed my temples.

Kie scoffed. “I call it- you guys are going to keep having your little moments, but still argue a lot. Then things will happen, the two of you will be vulnerable to each other, then you’ll actually become friends and then you’ll date.”

“You read way too many fanfics.”

“I actually see the two of you long term together!”

“I- Ok, we should probably get going now. See ya!”

“Bye! Don’t forget what I said!” Kie hung up, and I chuckled a little.

I grabbed my hairbrush and combed out my straightened hair, which fell a little below my shoulders, then put the brush down. Cute outfit, straight hair with middle parting...what am I missing?

A belt. I went to my closet and pulled one out, a melt chain belt, like rings or loops, and quickly looked it around myself.

Wow, I’m hot.

I grabbed my Kanken backpack and ran down the stairs.

I headed to the kitchen, where Diya was sitting on her height chair, with apple sauce all over the tray, her face, her hands, and the floor. “Good morning, gremlin” I leaned over to kiss her forehead, and took the seat to her right. She turned to me and began giggling and babbling. I picked up the apple sauce-covered spoon and scooped the tiny bit that was in the bowl in front of her and put it near her mouth.

“Open sesame.” I said. She opened her mouth and bit the spoon. I fed her a couple more bites before she shook her head and refused to eat more.

I shrugged, taking the bowl and spoon and placing it in the sink, then grabbing a napkin and quickly wiping up the floor, being careful not to get any on my clothes.

“Oh, Nikki, you didn’t have to clean up.” Mal sighed, walking down the stairs. I stood up and turned to see her. She was in sweats and a shirt, and her hair was tied up. “I was changing because this tiny gremlin got apple sauce all over me.” Mal laughed and ruffled Diya’s hair, who seemed confused. Probably because she didn’t even realize her mom left.

“It’s alright,” I got a fresh napkin and wiped Diya’s face. “She finished her food. But I’m not cleaning the tray.” I made a face and we laughed. Diya laughed, and I leaned over to kiss her again. She squirmed and giggled.

“That’s fine. But make sure you eat something before you leave!” Mal picked Diya up and put her on her hip. Then she stopped. “Wait, why are you leaving so early?”

I blinked twice. “Uh. I need to go to something.”

Mal laughed, and Diya reached for her mom’s hair to pull it. “Like what?”

“Uh, my friend needs to be dropped off at...the other high school. Kildare County High School. It’s in The Cut, and they don’t have a car.”

Mal looked at me for a couple seconds, than rolled her eyes. “You’re an awful liar.” She proceeded to go upstairs. “Whatever you do, don’t make bad choices!”

“I won’t!” I shouted back. “Wait, where’s Krish?” I asked, pouring myself some cereal.

“He had an emergency surgery. Nothing super serious, just someone’s appendix burst or something.” Mal shouted from upstairs. “Don’t clean the tray up, I have the day off so I’m gonna catch up on some house work and go shopping with Diya. Just eat and make sure you’re at school on time. Krish packed a sandwich and some apple slices for you in the fridge if you want it!”

“Alright!” I shouted back. I grabbed the food from the fridge, an ice pack from the freezer to keep my food fresh, shoved it in my lunchbox, and finished up my cereal. I grabbed my keys, shouldered my bag, and headed to my car.

I threw my bag into the seat next to mine and buckled up, then hooked my playlist up and pulled out of my driveway.

When I arrived at the Chauteau, I saw someone sitting outside on the steps with their hands on their head. They were wearing a black hoodie, and it was pulled up over their head so I couldn’t see who it was.

As I got closer, I realized it was JJ, and he was wearing the same outfit from yesterday.

“Hey!” I called out to him. He looked up and gave me a quick nod, then beckoned me to come inside. I obliged and slipped my keys into my pocket, then jogged quickly to catch up with him.

“The weed’s in my room. Just wait on the couch and I’ll get it for you.” He mumbled as held the door open for me, then headed inside. I nodded and flopped onto the couch. JJ reappeared a couple seconds later, holding a black dispensary bag with a smily face on it and some paper wraps.

He headed to the kitchen and put them in a gallon sized Ziploc bag, then walked towards me. I noticed that, the entire time, he had his head down, and his long blond hair was parted to cover his left eye.

“Here.” He said, not meeting my eyes.

I grabbed the bag and bid him a farewell, then turned around to ask him if he wanted a ride to his high school, when I saw his swollen, bruised eye underneath the wisps of his hair.

“Wait, do you ne- Oh my God, JJ, what happened to your eye?” I walked towards him and covered my mouth. Shit, I thought. It looked pretty bad. The eyelid above his eye was swollen and beneath his eye, it was an ugly purplish blue.

“For fuck’s sake, dude,” he groaned.

“Woah, woah,” I raised my arms up in defense. “I just asked. Anyone would’ve if they saw someone with a black eye.”

He flopped onto the couch. “I’m fine. Fan-fucking-tastic.”

“Your eye is swollen.” I said firmly.

“And your eyes work.” He sassed back.

“Oh my- I have an ice pack in my car. Do you want me to grab it, or do you want to sit here and be a bitch to me?” I crossed my arms.

JJ raised his eyebrows at me. I stared back.

He sighed. “Whatever, I don’t care.” I scoffed to myself, thinking about how ungrateful he is, and ran out to my car, grabbed my lunch box, and ran back inside. I told JJ to sit down and I pulled the pack out and handed it to him.

“Just press the pack against your eye.” I told him. He gave me a look.

“This isn’t exactly like a bag. It’s a big blue block of coldness.” He put it down on the couch and flexed his hand. “And it’s really cold.”

“Well of course it’s cold, it’s an ice pack! Are there any paper towels here?”

“Under the sink, yeah.”

I walked towards the kitchen and ripped out a couple, then went back to the couch to wrap the ice pack. I held it for a couple seconds so that the napkins would start to get cold, then I turned and handed it to him.

He picked it up and brushed his hair back. I flopped down onto the couch and checked the time on my phone. I still had a good fourty minutes before school started, so I was fine.

JJ pressed the pack against his eye, then pulled it away. “I don’t feel anything.”

I took it from his hands and scooted next to him. I reached my hand out towards him and he leaned back.

“Uh, what are you doing?” His eyes were wide.

“Icing your eye for you. Because apparently this big blue block of coldness is too difficult for you to use.”

He squinted his eyes. I sighed.

“That was a joke,” I explained. Then I beckoned him closer to me. “But come on, now, I need my ice pack for lunch. So either you do it or I will!”

He mumbled something about not being a baby and scooted closer to me. I brushed some of his hair aside and he flinched. I pulled my hand back immediately.

“Shit! I’m sorry, did I touch your eye?” God, this is so awkward.

“No, no, I’m fine.” He quickly reassured, awkwardly brushing his hands with his hair. He looked down and was fidgeting with his hands.

This is so, so weird. I touched the pack against my hand, and felt for where it was the coldest. Then, I gently brushed some of JJ’s hair away from his eye and pressed the cold pack against his eye.

He pushed his hair back and scooted closer to me. “This feels good.” He whispered under his breath; I almost didn’t hear him.

I felt a hint of a smile forming. “Well, I’m glad,” I laughed. “My dad’s a doctor. He’s Chief of Surgery, I think, at the hospital on the next island over. The one here’s pretty small, but that’s one’s big. We moved here, though, because we had a house here.”

JJ nodded. “Cool. What does your mom do?”

“She’s a lawyer.”

“Wow. Ok.” He laughed. “That’s chill. My dad’s a professional alcoholic.”

“I- Oh.” I clamped my free hand over my mouth.

JJ pulled away laughing. “It’s ok. You can laugh. It’s funny.”

I shoved him lightly. “That’s not funny. Are you alright?!” He looked at me with a smile.

“You’re laughing.”

“I’m not- Oh my god, I’m laughing.”

“It’s fine, Nikki. Really.”

I rolled my eyes, but then I got serious. “But, he isn’t the one who did this to your eye, right?”

JJ looked away from me and cleared his throat. “Nah.”

I saw his hesitation, and

“Nikki, I’m chill.”

He nodded. “Much. Thanks...Kook.”

I kicked his shin. “You’re so annoying.”

“OW! That hurt.”

I grabbed the plastic bag and ran out to my car. “Bye JJ!”

“Fuck you, Kook!”

***************************************************************

The cool sand between my toes felt strange. I was always used to sand being burning hot, or at least warm, but this was a nice, cool feeling. Wintertime in the Outer Banks wasn’t freezing, which meant I could still visit the beach.

The sky had turned grey, but the sun was still shining bright between the clouded sky. The ocean, though, had taken on a very dark blue-green color.

I spun around, shoes in one hand and backpack in the other, to see Topper a couple feet behind me with something in his hand. I raised a hand above my eyes and squinted.

“Whatcha got there?” I questioned while beckoning him to follow me farther. In order for the plan to work, I needed the two of us to be alone. Which meant sitting farther away from where the people and lifeguards were.

“A surprise.” Topper winked. Whatever he had in his hand was slipped into one of his pockets. I feigned laughter and ran up ahead. There was a nice secluded area on the beach; no one was there, and better yet, it appeared there was a little place for people to hide behind big, dark rock formations on the beach.

“Hey! There’s a place for us to sit over there!” I beckoned Topper without turning around and went ahead near the little hidden area on the beach. I plopped down onto the sand and dropped my bag and shoes next to me. Topper appeared behind the rock formation a couple seconds later and threw his stuff onto the ground next to mine.

He sat down next to me- wearing khaki cargo pants and an orange polo shirt- and kicked his flip flops off.

“So,” I began, “This is nice. Right?”

Topper pulled whatever he slipped in his pocket- a small, white sea conch- and handed it to me.

“Yeah,” he smiled brightly. “This is nice.”

Oh, goodness. It’s painstakingly clear that Topper had feelings for me and I need to shut that down, fast. So I said the only thing I could think of.

“Hey, Top, did you know one of our friends has a crush on you?” As soon as the last word left my mouth, I regretted it. I can’t out Kelce, but there’s no way I can just avoid this.

Topper’s neck snapped towards me. “HUH?” His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped, and I fought back the urge to push his jaw upward to close it.

“Yep...” I turned around to grab the weed from my bag, hoping Topper would just drop it. But I knew better.

“Ok, but like who?” He asked. I paused. UM. I needed to think of something quick.

“Um, can’t say,” I shrugged, trying to play it off. I took the bag out and placed it on my lap. “I was sworn to secrecy.”

“Oh, c’mon!” He threw his arms up in the air, then crossed them and pouted. Gross.

“Yep, my lips are sealed.” I decided to just say it: “It’s also the reason I don’t do anything about your...flirtiness. Our friend likes you, and I don’t see you like that. You’re like...a brother. A good friend.” I smiled.

Topper nodded, then reached for his bag. Confused, I leaned over, then I saw him pull out a cheese wheel.

“You want some cheese?”

I slapped my hand over my face and laughed. “Do you usually care around cheese wheels?”

He shrugged. “No. I only bring them when I’m hanging out with special people. People who are like...sisters to me. Good friends.” He winked.

I chuckled. Then I pointed at the bag on my lap. “Do you wanna get high?”

Topper dropped his cheese wheel. “Is that..?”

“Yeah, it’s weed. Oh, c’mon, hot stuff, don’t tell me you haven’t smoked before.”

He shook his head. “Usually, uh, Pogues smoke weed.” The emphasis on the word Pogues ticked me off a little. But I knew Topper didn’t know any better, so I brushed it off.

I snorted. “Well, where I’m from, everyone smokes weed. I personally don’t love doing it, but it’s a good feeling. So we’re going to, too. Unless you’re not comfortable. Or allergic.”

Topper shook his head. “No, not allergic. I’ve just never done it.”

“Right, but you’ve done coke.”

“Oh, shut up.”

I pull the tiny, black bag holding the weed out of the Ziploc and open it up. Topper, who was peering over my shoulder, threw his head back dramatically at the smell of the plant.

“Oh, gross!” He gagged. I looked at him.

“Weed itself smells fine, it’s when you smoke it does it actually smell bad. Stop being so dramatic.” I brought the bag to his face. “Here, smell it!”

Topper was hesitant, but I beckoned him closer. “Trust me, your high is gonna be really bad if you’re nervous. Just try to relax.”

He sat up and took the bag from me. Topper sniffed the bag, then sniffed it again. “It smells...minty, kind of.” I pulled out the weed grinder JJ had packed for us out and took the bag back from him.

“See? Not too bad, right?”

He shrugged. I rolled my eyes and dumped the weed into the weed grinder. Topper looked over at me curiously as I ground the bud into shake (kind of a powderish leftover), then set it aside.

Next, I pulled the paper wraps out. I stuck my hand into the bag again and felt around carefully. I hoped JJ packed a- found it- blade for me to cut the wraps with.

I began to cut the wraps vertically, lengthwise, then lifted it to my tongue and licked it just a bit so that it’d stick.

“That doesn’t seem very hygenic,” Topper said through the cheese in his mouth. I turned to face him and opened my mouth, and he broke off a piece and fed it to me.

“The weed only smells bad when you smoke it,” I explained to Topper, then lifted the blunt up to show him the finished product. “Ta-da!”

Topper’s eyes went wide. “It’s so perfectly wrapped.”

“Yeah, I dabbled in origami as a child.” I fished around for the lighter, then lit the blunt and started to twirl in between my fingers to make sure the blunt burned evenly.

I put the blunt to my lips and breathed in, feeling the smoke fill up my lungs. I breathed out, took another hit, and passed it to Topper. I pulled a water bottle out and set it down next to him. “You’re gonna need this.”

Topper took the blunt and scoffed. “I’ll be fine,” he said, and proceeded to take the tiniest drag and cough his lungs out.

I took the blunt from his hand and took a drag, then handed him the water bottle. “See?” I exhaled. “Told you you’d need it.”

“Why-” he hacked, “-did I-” hack, “agree-” hack, “-to this?”

“Because of my amazing persuasion skills.” I could start to feel the high get to me; it felt like an out-of-body experience and my head started to feel light. The only downside was the god-awful smell.

I smacked my lips together. The back of my throat was really dry, but the euphoric, light-headedness I was feeling made it better. I passed the blunt back to Topper, who took a smaller drag, held it in, and exhaled. Then he took another and handed it back to me.

Topper seemed to be getting the hang of it, and pretty soon his eyes were red and he was laughing at everything.

“Can I ask you something?” I took a drag of the blunt and handed it back to Topper.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“What’s, like, Rafe’s deal? I hear all these shitty things about him and stuff and he doesn’t seem like that at all. Like, what’s this whole...drama shit with him and like Kiara’s Pogue friend group?”

Topper’s eyes were as wide as half-dollars when I finished my question. It made me glad he had exhaled the smoke, otherwise he’d have been coughing his lungs up for another couple minutes.

“Um, well-” he handed the blunt back to me. “It’s like- ok. The Pogues, Kiara’s friends, they’re Pogues, right?

“Well, yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, but like, what’s wrong with Pogues. Just because they’re poor doesn’t mean they don’t deserve our respect.”

“Well, yeah, but like...” Topper trailed off. “I forgot what I was gonna say.”

“You were talking about why you and the other Kooks hate Pogues.”

“Right! Yeah, ok, so it’s like...they just don’t care about anything? They have no regards for anything, they don’t have any morals, or ambition, or anything! And I don’t just mean JJ and Pope and them, I mean all of them.”

I held back a scream. “Have you considered their, uh, ‘lack of regard and amibition’ stems from the fact that they’re stuck in a cycle of poverty? It’s easy to lose hope in things getting better when everything around you tries to bring you down.”

Topper shrugged. “I guess you’re right. But like, our groups have just hated each other for so long. And it’s not like it’s just us who hate them, they hate us back!”

“Well, yeah! You- we- flaunt our wealth in front of them and treat them like trash. Like, ok, fine, we’re rich, but that doesn’t mean we have to rub it in their faces. And treat them like trash. And jump them. And-”

“OK! Ok, I get it. But like...I don’t know. Rafe, on the other hand...he...well, he isn’t like this anymore, but he always had to prove he was better than everyone. That he was the best at everything.”

I nodded. Topper kept going.

“Don’t tell him I told you this, but Mr. Cameron always put Rafe and Sarah up against each other, and Sarah always won. Sarah was the smarter one, the nicer one. She didn’t fuck up, and when she did she could fix her mistakes and get away with it. She could do whatever she wanted. Rafe...couldn’t. He’s the black sheep, the screw up.”

I tried my best to hide my surprised face. Rafe, the screw up? He seems like the perfect Kook, if there had to be one. “And he took this out on the Pogues?”

“Yeah. This plus the fact that he was raised a Kook and Kooks are- I mean, think they are- better than Pogues, made him really butt heads with them. Especially JJ.”

“JJ? Why JJ? If John B was the head of the Pogues wouldn’t Rafe butt heads with him?”

“You’d think so, but Rafe and JJ are both very- well, you’ve met them. Hotheaded. Opinionated.”

Emphasis on hot, I told myself.

Shut up.

I was about to ask more about Rafe’s childhood when Topper’s phone buzzed.

“Ah shit, it’s Kelce, he’s outside my house. I forgot him and I were supposed to play FIFA.” Topper began to stand up and put his cheese wheel away.

“Do you need me to drop you off?” I got up as well.

“Nah, he said he’s on his way. You want us to drop you off?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “No, it’s alright. I’ll stay here for a bit.”

Topper waved and jogged away, and i turned and face the ocean. I could see that the sun was starting to set- I guess we had been here for about an hour- and the sky was turning gold. Most of the clouds had dispersed, so the sight of the sun near the water was a pretty one.

I inhaled. The warm sunlight against my skin was peaceful, and I didn’t want to go home yet.

Home. The Outer Banks is a nice place to live, but a part of me longed for New York. I missed ditching school with my friends and driving around the city. And eating at my favorite restaurant at the food court of the Manhattan mall.

Yet, New York feels...wrong. So foreign, and far away. Too filled with painful memories. Watching my father die in front of me left a permanent scar somewhere deep inside of me.

Will I ever feel at home here? Or anywhere?

A cool ocean breeze swept over me, pulling me out of whatever trance I was in. I checked my phone, and saw that JJ had texted me to ask that I drop by the Chateau. I shuffled around for a minute, not wanting to leave yet. I picked up the shell Topper gave me and put it in my bag.

I stood up, dusted myself, and headed towards my car.

**************************************************************

“Ok, what did you learn from Topper?” Pope asked once we all settled down around the coffee table.

“A lot, but it really depends on this. I need to know what you guys know about Rafe and his childhood.”

We all turned to Kie. The dim orange-brownish lighting made my head hurt, especially since Kie’s back was to the light and her faced was covered in a shadow, but I managed to focus on her while she talked.

“Um, Rafe’s childhood...ok.” Kie pulled her hair up into a ponytail and rubbed her temples. “I know that Sarah and Rafe- Sarah especially- had a difficult relationship with their stepmom. Their mom, the first Mrs. Cameron, passed away when Sarah was two. So she didn’t really remember her mom, just bits and pieces you know?”

JJ, who was spread out on the couch across from me, nodded grimly. He ran his ringed fingers through his hair and had a sad look on his face. I squinted, but before I could process, Kie continued.

“Rose married Ward less than a year after Sarah and Rafe’s mom died, and then had Wheezie soon after-”

“Sorry, I just never understood what sort of name was Wheezie.” JJ laughed. I bit my lip to hold back my laughter. Couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s actually funny.

“It could be short for Elizabeth or Louise or something.” I rebuttled. JJ raised an eyebrow.

“Elizabeth? For Wheezie?”

“It’s common for people to have unique nicknames for fancy names.”

“Sounds like a rich person thing.” JJ rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, can I have my weed back now?”

I clenched my fists. Him and I were fine this morning! Why was he being like this? I pulled the Ziploc out of my backpack and threw it at his head. He caught it with one hand and winked. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart.”

“Sorry, Pillow Princess.”

“CAN YO-”

“Ok, back to what I was saying.” Kie interrupted. “Yeah, so from what I gathered, Rafe never liked Rose when they was younger. I guess he thought she was trying to replace their mom? But as he got older he just didn’t care as much? Or at least that’s what Sarah thought.”

I nodded slowly. “Ok, so like, Sarah never noticed anything weird about Rafe growing up?”

“Well she always thought of him as like, problematic? Which is clear in his behavior. And dramatic, too. He always took things too far, and she never knew why. Her best guess? His issues shifted from the mom figure to the dad.”

I nodded again. “Alright, alright. That makes sense.”

“What did you learn from Topper?” Pope took his arm off from Kie’s shoulder and leaned forward. “Did something happen in Rafe’s childhood?”

“It fits with what Kie said. I think Ward neglected him in favor of Sarah. I know I’m not a doctor, but it’s kind of obvious when you think about it; he’s fueled by rage. He’s angry because he feels like he’s never enough. He goes out of his way to try to be the best, the greatest, the biggest, all to do what?”

It was silent for a second, when I saw it click in JJ’s mind. “Praise. He’s desperate for Ward’s praise and approval.”

I snapped my fingers and pointed at him. “Exactly. A neglectful yet present paternal figure that he’s desperate for the love of, and the absence of a caring maternal figure. That plus his previous drug addiction sounds like a recipe for fucking disaster.”

When those words came out of my mouth, I could see JJ’s face drop for a second time. Kie didn’t notice, and neither did Pope, and when JJ saw me staring at him, he just looked away.

Pope said, “We know Ward favored Sarah, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have her issues- uh, no offense, Kie.” Pope gave her an apologetic look and ran his fingers through her hair.

“No worries,” Kie dismissed him. “Rose was never particularly warm to her, and regardless of if you’re the favorite, being raised by someone like Ward Cameron is going to give you some sort of damage.”

“What’s Mrs. Cameron’s deal?” I asked. “Did she hate Sarah and Rafe?”

“No, not that,” Kie said. “It’s not that she hated them, she just isn’t a warm person. I guess their relationship never progressed passed ‘dad’s wife’ and ‘husband’s kids’.”

We stayed silent for a second, collecting our thoughts. Finally, Pope said, “Ok, so we know Rafe’s, uh, past-” He put past in quotation marks, “-behavior was fueled by trauma, not solely because he’s a bad person. That helps confirm what John B had told us about Ward before he died. And it’s possible Rose is abusive, or at least knows and doesn’t care.”

“You don’t think she could be a victim?” I asked, leaning forward.

Kie snorted. “Trust me, Rose Cameron could never be a victim.”

“So Rafe is trauma-filled, Ward is mentally abusive, and Rose is absent ...that’s good to know about Rafe, I guess, if we want to do some psycho-fucking with him or whatever, but how does that help us?” JJ jumped up off the couch and stretched.

I thought for a second, then a thought occurred to me. Then another, then a few more. I slapped my hand over my mouth. “Wait, fuck, holy shit. Oh my FUCKING GOD.” I also stood up from my seat.

“What is it?” Pope asked, getting up as well. JJ squinted and walked over to me.

“Ok, so, this theory is so out of pocket, I’m probably really wrong but it just came to me.”

“Just tell us.” JJ said.

Kiara got up to stand on my other side. “What are you thinking?”

“So Ward’s first wife died when Rafe and Sarah were young, and then like almost immediately after he got married to Rose and had another kid?” I asked.

“Yeah why- wait a second...” Pope said, eyebrows furred. Then, his eyes went huge, and I mean huge. “You don’t think..?”

“What?” JJ asked, then turned to me. “What is it?”

“What is Ward and Rose were having an affair and killed Rafe and Sarah’s mom?” I asked. Kiara gasped.

“Ward and Rose were both from the Cut! They could have been, like, childhood lovers, which could have explained why Ward ‘moved on so fast’.

Pope added, “And because Ward wasn’t rich before, that could explain the lack of a prenup. So when he got rich and his wife found out he had an affair...”

“He offed her before she could divorce him and take the money!” JJ finished, covering his hands with his mouth. “Ok, that is super far-fetched, BUT, considering everything that happened, I would not be surprised if this ended up being true.”

“So, what are we supposed to do? If this is true, this is a crime from years ago. How would we even be able to solve this?” Kiara rubs her temples.

“I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot, right? I can still try to sneak into Ward’s office to try and find something.” I offered.

“That was part of the original plan, but now the stakes are higher...what if you get caught?” Pope asked.

I shrugged. “I’m in too deep anyway. And this isn’t about me, it’s about Sarah and John B. They deserve justice. They don’t deserve to have died for nothing.”

Kiara smiled at me and gave me a hug. “You are awesome.” She pulled away and hugged Pope, squealing. “Finally! We can bring that fucker Ward to his knees.”

Pope kissed Kie, and right then, Mal texted me asking me to pick up some yogurt on my way home. “Ah, I should probably get going.” I said. “See you guys tomorrow?” I asked.

“Yeah!” Pope and Kie smiled. I waved, then went to grab my stuff while Kie and Pope went off to talk about something.

As I was heading for the door, I felt someone grab my arm. I spun around and looked up to see JJ glancing around nervously.

“Hey, uh, thank you.” He mumbled quietly. He cleared his throat and looked me right in the eyes to say: “Thank you.”

I didn’t know what to say. “Is this about this morning?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, then ran his hands through his messy, longish blond hair. He was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. “Yeah. And right now.”

We were quiet for a second. I didn’t look at his eyes; rather, I was trying to look at the floor, or something below his eye level, but I could feel him trying to look into my eyes. He kept speaking.

“We were all in a kinda shitty place before this and we had no idea how to go about any of it. So, thanks, Kook.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “Here you go with the Kook stuff again. You’re welcome, your Pogueness.” I bowed dramatically.

JJ scoffed. “Oh shut up! God, you’re so annoying.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I lightly kicked his shin. “See you, blond.”

“Bye, Kook.”

*************************************

me: i’m back and i won’t take a hiatus again! also me: ...

but for real, i’m out of school soon which means YAY more chapters. however, i should note that i will most likely not be following the plot of season 2 of OBX, since ik it’s releasing soon. my fic is my interpretation of what i would like season 2 to be, so it’s solely based on season 1

#jj #jj x oc #jj outer banks #jj obx #jj obx fic #Outer Banks #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #john b #john b routledge #pope #pope heyward #kie #kiara carrera #john b x sarah #kiara x pope #jj fluff

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meisteralready · 4 years

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something of a personal statement

Marijuana saved my life.

Literally. Sure, I was a casual user in my youth and loved how it kept me mellow and worked on my anxiety. I smoked into my mid-20s and drifted away from it. It seemed to be the musings of being young. I got older and went through a lot of life - Mom died, got married, had a kid, split-up, followed my passion of theatre and the arts and got to tour the world.

In 2018, I was 44 years old and finishing up a play, but I had a cold that I couldn’t shake. Went to the doc expecting just to be diagnosed with the flu, be given a z-pack, and be on my way. Instead, he said he felt a lump in my neck and wanted me to get checked out by a specialist immediately. Like, the next day.

The specialist he sent me to found a large growth and diagnosed stage 4 oropharyngeal cancer. I had to have surgery right away. Six days from that first initial visit to my general practitioner, I was at Rush getting a six-a-half-hour surgery to remove large parts of throat cavity. A surgery that, five years earlier, didn’t even exist. The technology didn’t exist. I would just be dead. And amazingly, I’m not.

In the space of just a few days, I had to be prepared to never talk again. 80% of people who had this cancer in this area never regain their speaking abilities. I had been a DJ at CHIRP radio - non-profit, free-form radio - for years, I was an actor and did voiceovers, my voice was my life. I also had to prepare a quick will, the tumor was laying on my corroded artery, wrapped like a snake. One false move and I would bleed out in seconds. My only thought was of my daughter. I went into our production studio at CHIRP and quickly recorded letters to my daughter, who was 9 at the time, in the event I could never tell her.

They had to go into my throat and completely restructure it - pull out one whole diseased side, move, cut and lose some muscles and tendons, cut off sliver-after-sliver of deep tongue and pull things together like short-sheeting a bed. They removed lymph nodes through my neck and jaw. The pain was unbearable. For months of post-op and therapy, the pain was nearly constant.

I couldn’t eat solid food for 5 months, s simple swallow lead me to frantic pacing; pacing just to wait for the spikes of pain to subside. Everything burnt, tensed, pure pain. And it was completely random, I had know idea when pain would strike. Turning my head, trying to speak, swallowing water, a sneeze; all could trigger it. I would fall asleep, then snore and ignite an avalanche of pain.

But I was alive and through a shit ton of therapy, I would talk again.

The cause of the cancer was not any abuse I did to myself. I wasn’t a smoker (not even pot for that point for about 8 years), not much of drinker. The cause was undiagnosed HPV. I learned its the fastest growing cancer for men my age, it’s being diagnosed faster than any other type of cancer for men.

To treat it and to ward off the effects of chemo and radiation, I was on a barrage of narcotic pain meds and muscle relaxants and nerve deadeners. I gargled with lidocaine to dull my mouth just to have the ability to eat. All this made me a zombie in the daytime and absolutely shut down my natural systems. I could barely have a bowel movement. It wasn’t the cancer, it was the “cure”.

After chemo/rad, I needed to get off the myriad of meds; it was shutting my system down and I was close to toxicity. Plus, I didn’t want to become addicted to opioids, which I feared I was becoming.

I read about cannabis replacement for pain and nerve work. I asked my doctor who agreed it was a consideration. He signed my papers and I began treatment with Dispensary 33. Through cannabis, I began to lessen the amount of my meds, knocking out heavy opioids completely, eventually getting down to just ibuprofen. The spikes in pain finally able to anticipate, I knew how to dose to stay ahead of my pain with a good CBD/THC ratio. My anxiety and moodiness vanished.

That was though this place.

Eight months later, cancer cells were found in my thyroid. We needed more surgery, but this time, I knew the procedure. I had an aspect of what I could take pain-wise, of what recovery would be like. I learned how to naturally treat my pain - not just through cannabis, but meditation, massage therapy, to just breathe. The marijuana kept me physically and mentally stable, able to concentrate, and I rebounded quickly. Today, I am still in remission.

The second surgery released the same HPV virus that caused the initial cancer, but this strain was mitigated and dormant in my spine. It triggered a viral meningitis that lead to another week in the hospital in complete dark isolation. Now, through a daily anti-viral and on my cannabis program, this chronic condition is successfully suppressed. Thank God.

I learned, when used correctly, marijuana is a powerful tool. For pain management, for recovery (especially when it just hurt to eat, to swallow), for viral suppression, and that it keeps me centered. If it alleviates pain, it helps me focus. In short, it gave me hope that I could still function and achieve as an adult. Again, marijuana saved my life.

Having cancer twice in the space of a year and a half changes your life. You get a shifted perspective; you don’t just stop to smell the flowers, you spend the day rolling around in them. Cancer also makes you very, very poor. I barely survived the initial operation, but it wiped out my savings. By the time the second operation came, I was on Medicaid. I had to get SNAP food stamps. It took me almost a year to get regular work again. I exhausted unemployment.

When the pandemic hit - man, its weird to type that - I was working three different part-time jobs and trying to act again, all the while doing speech and neck therapy 3 times week. I got my voice and diction back, I was working. The pandemic wiped all that out. All my jobs were face-to-face, procedural and couldn’t be replicated alone or online.

Other than some new unemployment benefits, I am down to very little. I pay child support to my ex-partner and that kid is the world to me, but I can’t visit her right now because of the shelter-in-place. She lives in Maine with her mother, but because I am so immune-compromised, flying could be lethal for me at this very moment. It’s a bit disheartening. I am eternally grateful for Zoom and FaceTime, but this is is the longest that I’ve been without physically seeing her. It’s incredibly tough.

But I’m strong and with friends and family, I cope. With long walks and runs and meditation, I cope. And with cannabis, I cope. It keeps me adjusted and positive and helps me when nerves awaken and when pain, now more infrequently, still will sharpen. The good thing now is that when I feel that pain, it means I am regaining use and control of parts of my jaw and neck. I swallow normally again.

But I’m broke. And I can’t go without the medicine, support, and hope that you all provide. I am asking for your help.

And I preach the gospel to family and friends of THC:CBD ratios especially for chronic pain or narcotic alleviation because, one last time, marijuana saved my life.

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montieltjlindseyba37insuran-blog · 5 years

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