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soramel · 3 years

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Curiosity didn’t kill the cat | jjk ff

Part 3

jjkxreader

Prompt: “You’re early,” said the grim reaper with a hint of amusement.

Fantasy au, grimreaper!jungkook, reader, romance, slow-burn

Words: 3.4k approx. Part 3/5

Check this out on my wattpad account! I post one part ahead there.

Hollowing emptiness filled up your chest as a barren land came into view. An empty riverbed covered with ashes. You squinted against the ray of the sun.

You see nothing but the sky's horizon, another glare of light sent you looking down. Your hand served as the only shade against the glaring sun.

Blink.

Everything went dark.

A yearning love.

Your fist was clenched against your heart as it ached from within. You feel butterflies in your stomach. The unsettling yet warm feeling grew and grew until it became too much it made you curl down.

Everything feels soft against your skin. Silk satin draped around your body. You looked up, finding yourself in a bedchamber. Lamps were laid out on the wooden floor and on the tables, lighting up the darkness with dimmed warmth. You saw a man. His back against yours. His shoulder spanned wide as he slipped in a red robe.

Your fingers ached to reach him, to hold.

You lifted your hand.

Then suddenly, you're running on an empty hallway. Things passing in a blur.

Your eyes feel strained, your face drenched wet with sweat and your mouth could taste the salty tears running down your cheeks. Lifting your layered petticoat, the silk of its outer skirt crumpled against your palm.

Despite the confusion, you continued running. You just know you have to.

You have to escape.

They're coming.

Then a sudden realization stopped you in your tracks. As if air was pushed out of your lungs.

A high-pitched cry ripped through the air, like a wounded animal's, but it was from you. You found the helpless sound coming from your throat. You stared down at your arms grasping your body for something you could hold.

You realized you lost everything you fought for.

You're empty, yet you're filled full to the brim. Your cup overflowing with gut-wrenching pain, loss, and grief. Those emotions were deep-rooted from the love you have for him.

It dawned you.

It's all his fault.

The man you thought you love.

It's his fault.

He brought you nothing but suffering. You laid your heart out and sought for the little love he could give.

Yet there's been no one to yearn for but him, the future you could have together, the family you could have built. If things were just different.

A nightmare

That's what it is.

You jolted awake in a cold sweat.

Breathing in and out, you calmed yourself. Everything was just a dream. You're not dead. You're here in...

Whose place is this?

You turned to the creak of a door. Jungkook's all dressed in black. A fedora hat on his hand.

"Y/n," he greeted. "How was your sleep?"

"Jungkook?" you asked. Confused at how you knew his name.

His eyes went wide before nodding. "Yeah, I'm Jungkook, your assigned grim reaper."

You exhaled as you realized last night was not a dream. You died by mistake. In your sweater and pajamas.

"By the way, I have clothes for you. I figured you should come with me. For your safety,"

He then opened his bedroom door wider for you to come in.

The black trench coat felt heavy on your shoulder. Your outfit is similar to his, except the sordid hat on his head. He figured you could look like a grim reaper to ward off any wandering souls. Scaring them might help, save for the starving ones like the woman you encountered last night.

It's been five minutes of standing by on a bus stop. He just stood there and stared off in a distance. On an ordinary day, you thought you'd be stared down by the odd combo of your outfits, but at that moment, your presence was not visible to their eyes.

Jungkook pulled out his tablet as you watch the pedestrians crossing the street, envying how they go on with their mundane routine. Jungkook's brows furrowed as he navigated through the gadget, as if re-reading something.

You saw a ball rolled off the street, its owner chasing after the object. The boy sped off at the last few seconds, oblivious to the truck speeding above the limit.

Pointing your finger to the child, you tried to notify the people around you, "The-the..." you stuttered.

There's no time.

You ran to the boy without much thought, failing to notice you went to your desired position in a blink.

The grim reaper whipped his head up at the air's whoosh. His eyes widened as he saw you pitting yourself against the truck to protect the boy. Jungkook yelled after you, anger and worry bubbling from his chest at your stupidity.

Before he could yank you out of the way, a lapse in time occurred. No one felt it, except the grim reaper who's baby-sitting you.

Then the truck swerved to a different direction, screeching tires marked the road as the driver desperately tried to stop. But it was too late.

Shocked gasps rippled through the watching crowd. You turned back at the boy's sudden cry. He was attended to by his mother whose face was etched with burdening worry. You stared back to the man laying on the pavement. His body being crowded by the bystanders as they called for an ambulance.

A strong grip yanked you to the other side. Jungkook was raging. He was lost for words for a second before ending up shouting, "Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

You flinched from the pain of his gripping hold and from fear.

You took a step back.

"I... he's a child. The truck..."

"Why would you interfere?! Is that child's life different from the man's?! Who are you to weigh lives on your hands?! Have you lost your mind?!"

Lips trembling at his outburst, you looked back at the site of the incident. "I didn't know, I didn't mean to..."

I didn't mean to kill him.

You yanked back your arm, covering your ears upon hearing a voice. You stared at Jungkook in horror.

I think I am... I'm going crazy, you thought to yourself.

"He's alive!" Someone from the crowd shouted. The sound of ambulance echoed, approaching in a distance.

Jungkook dragged you to the scene, never letting go of you as he crouched down to hold the man's wrist.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips.

"He'll be fine," he muttered, more like to himself.

"I'm sorry," you told him, guilt laced in your tone.

The rest of the day were all spent in silence. Jungkook fetched two more souls and all the while you were just there beside him as he does his work, basically acting like his shadow.

You were walking down the sidewalk of a business district after sending off his last soul for today. He was supposed to send off three if not for your interference. He should've 6 souls left after this day, but you being in his roster and the child's suddenly shifted fate this morning, he's still 8 souls away from finishing his duty.

He tapped off on his tablet with a resigned hum as he found his schedule empty.

Tucking in the device back to his coat, he stared off across the buildings like an old man.

His gaze then fell to yours. Your eyes filled with innocence as you watch him.

He tutted before continuing walking. You sauntered after, head down.

"Ngghhhh..." you looked up at the noise and almost yelped at the gory looking ghost. His clothes were tattered, but he looks way more decent than the one you encountered last night. His eyes were dazed, staring at you.

Jungkook calmly diverted you to the other side, placing himself between you and the ghost, and you both kept on walking. He patiently said, "Don't stop. He wouldn't dare."

You followed his instruction, but your eyes were somehow glued on the man, seeing one of his shoes is missing. Jungkook hissed, "Eyes ahead."

You flinched and diverted your head forward. Only to face a busy lady engrossed on her phone. Jungkook halted pulling you in front of him to get you out of the way.

It's your first time seeing his face up-close in daylight. It was only then when you noticed that he's not wearing his fedora, his hair is clean-cut short, showing his eyes and ears. His hair is still down but gone were the unruly curls you remembered he was sporting.

"Your hair changed," you muttered, gaze grazing the outline of his face.

Jungkook blinked. Once. Twice.

Flick!

"Aw!" you yelped as you rub your forehead. The area he hit felt pulsing.

You glared him down, "What was that for?!"

He leaned back a bit, cocking his head to the side, "Thought of rebooting your brain. Guess my power's limited."

Your jaw went slack at the insult.

He stepped to the side and continued on walking. He then decided to brief you, "As an ordinary ghost, bumping through a human would mess up both of your energy. It's best to avoid them when you can."

Nodding in understanding, you strolled to his side, carefully avoiding any living humans on the sidewalk.

"Where are we heading?" you asked him.

"Nowhere," he replied.

The both of you kept walking for what felt like an hour. When he took a turn at the end of a curb, you couldn't help but complain, "For how long are we walking, can't you just teleport us to that place? I'm tired."

He turned to you, realization dawning on him. He then looked around and found an empty café. Without saying anything, he walked again.

"Aish, that arrogant jerk. @2^;*&! $%#4," you grumbled under your breath.

Jungkook held the door open for you. It's a wonder that he stays chivalrous when he's like the arrogant narcissistic bastards you've met before. One second he's looking after you, the next he acts as if you're a lint he's living with. A dirt he wants to dust off but will continue to live on his life.

He looked at you indifferently as you passed by with a glare.

You took the seat near a window, then the grim reaper followed, taking the seat in front of you.

The café was relatively empty. Its interiors adorned with fake plants and orchids. The walls were painted with wood and brick-like patterns. The table has a centerpiece of tissue holder, plastered with italics, "A true heart remembers".

Your gaze then turned back to Jungkook. You opened your mouth to say something, but his expression cut you off.

There he goes again.

Looking at you as if you're a parasite he's yet to figure out. His condescending stare ticks off your nerves.

You raised a brow, "What?"

He inhaled with a hiss, then tapped his fingers incessantly on the table as he exhaled.

"I haven't met someone as unfortunate as you," he started.

Lifting a hand closed to a fist, he unfolded his pinky finger, "You're below an average college student,"

followed by the next, "You barely have friends,"

and another, "You died on the way to your solitude, by mistake at that,"

Cocking his head to the side, he spoke to himself this time, his gaze averting yours, "Maybe if you're not a sore loser and attended that party, you could have lived, and I wouldn't be in this dire situation."

"I mean..." he trailed off.

"Nothing's so special about you,"

"Why?" he pouted, wondering as he held his hands up. You scowled. "Aside from brave stupidity, there's nothing much."

You shouted at his relentless insults, startling him.

"Will you really keep this up?" you asked, voice laced with sheer annoyance.

With his eyes wide, he reiterated, "I'm helping you here!"

He waggled his hand beside his forehead, saying, "I've been racking up my brain,"

Then he gestured towards you, "While you create trouble one after the other,"

"Maybe you don't have one. Don't try so hard," you retaliated.

Crossing your arms on your chest, you added, "Maybe if you're not a sore loser and did your life differently, you wouldn't be a grim reaper and you wouldn't have to put up with me."

He closed his mouth at that for a moment, before muttering, "I've been at this job ever since. I'm finishing my duty so I could live as a human."

The rush of triumph turned to guilt in a flicker.

"You were not reincarnated?" you curiously asked.

"I..." he trailed off, "I haven't asked. I don't know. Really."

You frowned, "Why would you want to be a human, anyway? You're powerful. You don't get tired, you don't get to work and fit a measly salary in a month, you don't have to study," the list on your mind could actually go on as to why he's better off than you.

"It's lonely to be alone," he simply replied.

"And that's my dream, as a grim reaper. We all want to be human after delivering 700 souls. I haven't questioned that career path ever since."

Your right cheek twitched. He's weird, they're weird. It's weird talking about supernaturals as if it's a corporate world. Jungkook sounded like a corporate slave.

At that, you sighed in realization. Even in the Afterlife, or whatever dimension you're in, it's all the same.

He called your name, reaching for your hands across the table. "That's why we should figure out how to fix your fate line. The spirit guide's helping us, but what if we discover something important to your case? The faster we figure things out together, the better."

Your gaze shifted from his hands to his face.

The surrounding brightened. Birds were chirping and you're hearing the still water's splashing against the bank.

You found Jungkook beaming at you. The first genuine smile you saw from him. The corners of his lips lifted into a curve, a bit of his gums showing, his pearly whites sparkling, his eyes twinkling in joy.

He's wearing a cylindrical hat, its wide brim filtering out the rays of the sun. His hair is in a top-knot as you can see through the partly transparent headpiece.

His dimple accentuated as he spoke, "Marry me,"

When you didn't answer, he mistook the confused look on your face. "The King gave us his blessing. The General, I mean, your father knows. He also agreed," he further explained.

"Jungkook," you breathed out.

Then the brightness faded, bringing you back to the café.

Jungkook was in much astonishment as you. You snatched your hands away, leaving his palms open.

It's of no-use but you truly felt your heart beating fast. You stared back to his eyes and again your heart skipped a beat.

"What was that?" he asked. "Did you see what I saw?"

You nodded. "I, we," you tried to compose a coherent sentence, but failed.

He nodded eagerly, "I need to make a call," he stood up, not waiting for a reply.

Jungkook went outside the café as he dialed on the phone. You met his eyes, and he didn't back down, giving you a steady intent look.

You could only see his mouth moving as he spoke.

Then waited, as he stared at you.

You steered away from his gaze as he snapped out of a trance. After a while, he brought his phone down.

You watch him go back to you, averting your eyes.

He wet his lips before saying, "The spirit guide is on an important matter right now. His secretary insisted on meeting him as planned."

"Have you told her what happened?" you asked.

Jungkook nodded, "I did, but he's with..." he trailed off and pointed his finger up.

Well, you can do nothing for now. You need to wait.

You nodded in acknowledgment.

It's nighttime and you were now in his apartment. You were sitting down on the couch as he paced back and forth in his living room, dizzying you in the process.

"Jungkook," you warned for the second time, begging him to stop.

"You asked to marry me, we were husband and wife, in our past life, so grim reapers do have a past," he chanted for the nth time.

"Hah! How dare them lie to us. They just wanted us to do their work without us making a fuss? 700 souls! Do you know how many criminals, psychopaths, nagging wives, and alcoholic husbands I've dealt with? It felt like a thousand! In exchange of what? This apartment and these boring clothes, that's it!"

He ranted.

"I should tell Taehyung and Yoongi about this," he resolved.

You let out an exasperated sigh. "And what? Form a union?" you asked with sarcasm.

He looked at you in horror, "Marriage is only for two people."

"Are you stupid?" he added before fumbling on his phone.

You rolled your eyes. You should've felt offended, but you couldn't even bother to correct him. That's how hopeless you think he is.

And stupid

And narcissistic at that.

"I didn't ask to marry you. You asked to marry me," you nonchalantly repeated for the second time again. However, you didn't even bother if he heard you or not. Jungkook also didn't care. His brows in a furrow as he waited for the other line to be picked up.

It seemed no one answered, but he tried again.

"Taehyung!" he exclaimed.

"Are you done?" he asked, taking a seat beside you.

"Meet me at my place and bring Yoongi hyung. I have big news for you, you wouldn't believe it."

"This is more important! Absolutely! It's a secret and you'll know it first from me."

"Ah, I can't go there. Too many roaming souls. I have..." he paused, looking at you, before continuing, "I have a baggage here."

You gaped at the use of his words.

Jungkook stood up, heading to the window. "No, I can't carry it. Just bring home soju and pears. Ah and if there's some porridge and rice cakes. Okay? Bye!"

He turned around and grinned at you, "I have a treat coming for you!"

Then you thought, he reminded you of Jimin's pet. That white ball of fur who did nothing but eat carrots and cabbage all day long.

"Cats, and dogs, and rabbits are lucky, they have a working pet to buy them food," you mockingly teased Jimin one time who's beaming at his bunny as he watched the cute monster chew.

"What?!" Taehyung yelled.

Jungkook smugly nodded. Taehyung stared at you then back to Jungkook. "So, she's your wife?" he asked to confirm.

You winced and cringed and you craved to fold your fingers. Taehyung is worse than Jungkook.

The bunny nodded once and proclaimed to emphasize a point, "She asked me to marry her."

You bit your lower lip in annoyance and threw the rice cake back to the paper plate. The three grim reapers were startled by your action.

Donning a fake smile, you tried your best to be patient and slowly explained, "Jungkook asked to marry me."

"We were in a lake," you started.

Taehyung looked at you attentively as he's sitting across the coffee table, ready to hear the version of your story. You pulled his hands to yours, "Then he held my hands,"

"He smiled at me, like this," you demonstrated. Trying to copy the face you remember with all the twinkling eyes.

"Then said, 'Marry me,'"

Jungkook, who's sat beside you, abruptly slapped your hands away from his friend. "Ouch!" you fussed, glaring at him.

"Why did you have to hold his hands? Saying that! Doing that!" he protested.

In which you argued, "So you'd remember! Your ass is too up high on your head! Why?!"

A giggle escaped Taehyung's lips as he nuzzled near Yoongi. "Look at them, they're so cute together!" he squeaked as he hugged the man. You winced at his remark.

Yoongi hissed in irritation. He pushed Taehyung's head away while the younger tried to brush his head off against him. Yoongi still won.

Out of the three, Yoongi seemed the most normal to you.

"Maybe you have to relive your life together to remember what happened," he muttered.

"But grim reapers are not supposed to remember their past, Jungkook. You have to be prepared."

Then he went on, "I knew grim reapers who crossed the 7 Trials without knowing their past. I also knew some who learned about who they were, but still chose to vanish. I don't know why."

He stared up, looking both of you in the eyes, as he said his final piece, "Remember who you were, but don't get too attached to your past. There's only one way forward."

#bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jjk fanfic #romance #jkxreader #jk x reader #jjk

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prorevenge · 5 years

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Coworker tried to get me fired over breast implants, so I pulled a reverse uno card.

4 years ago now, when I was 24, my mum died of breast cancer, and as both my grandmothers had also died of it I saw a specialist for a screening. I found out I had some cells in one of my breasts that could have turned cancerous at any given moment.

I was told I had a few options:

I could have regular screenings every 3 or 4 months until it does develop into cancer (I was told the risk of the cells becoming cancerous was very high due to family history) but it could also potentially never could turn so I'd just be getting these screenings for no reason

I could get a single mastectomy on the breast with the bad cells, but they'd need to keep an eye on the other one, so I'd still need regular checkups for the other breast

I could get a bilateral mastectomy and remove all of my breast tissue, basically eliminating the risk.

I went for the bilateral mastectomy. It was admittedly the most drastic option but after seeing what cancer did to my mum and grandmothers I didn't want to risk it.

I was warned about scarring but told it should be fairly minor. It wasn't and I was left with 2 huge, pink, jagged scars on either side of my chest, each about an inch long and half an inch wide, and it caused me to go into a severe depression, where it got to the stage of me not even leaving my flat because I didn't want people to see me, throwing out my mirrors, and getting physically sick looking at myself.

I went to a therapist, who suggested a plastic surgeon. The therapist said they'd never normally do that but it was clearly something I was struggling with and I might never get over it, and the therapist could see why I struggle with it. Although I'll admit the therapist did send me to ask about scar reduction. The plastic surgeon suggested a cream, a laser or implants. The cream didn't work, and the laser was both expensive and risky, so I went with the implants. My natural boobs were an F cup so I went with a slightly smaller DD. Since then my mental health has improved and I feel a lot better about the way I look. My confidence has gone up, as has my self esteem. I know I shouldn't put so much into my appearance but I wasn't exaggerating about these scars. Huge, bright pink, jagged, raised, just really awful to look at and I hated seeing myself, and they are now nicely hidden away and you can barely feel them.

In the present day, I'm 28 years old and working in an office. I'm doing a lot better than I was. My coworker, Jill, found out I'd had a boob job (but not about the cancer thing), when myself and my friend from years before the mastectomy were planning a holiday and she made a joke about me going on a plane with my implants, and Jill overheard. By the end of the day, the entire office knew I'd had a boob job, but not why, and half a dozen people confirmed Jill had told them.

Over the next few months Jill made many "jokes" and comments about my chest to coworkers when I was in earshot, at one point saying I had "more plastic than Barbie" and calling me "fake in two ways". I didn't hear this one myself but a friend in the office told me that Jill had at one point referred to me as a "sack of silicone".

IDK what her problem was exactly but at one point she mentioned the NHS so I assume Jill thought that I'd got my tits done for free on taxpayer money (I'd gotten the mastectomy on NHS but gone private for therapy and implants).

I asked her to stop more than once, but unfortunately the places I'd talked to her were places like the lift and the women's bathroom, where there weren't any cameras, and Jill just kept making comments no matter how often I asked her not to. I wouldn't say it was every single day, but I heard at least 3 comments per week for 3 months.

I hit my breaking point when me, Jill and a few other coworkers were having lunch, I referred to something as being shallow and Jill said "you'd know all about being shallow" while gesturing to my chest. I snapped.

I said "do you know why I have these? A few years ago the doctors found potentially cancerous cells in my breast tissue, I was advised to get a mastectomy and was left with huge ugly scars on my chest. I went to see a therapist who sent me to a cosmetic surgeon, who advised me to get implants to hide the scars, and I did just so I could look at myself in the mirror without crying. So maybe next time you want to judge someone for having cosmetic surgery, you should ask them why they had it first". And feeling like that was a mic drop moment I picked up my food and left.

For the rest of the day I had about 1/3 of my office come up to me and offer support, and the rest tell me that Jill was just joking around and I was being a bitch. I replied that Jill was being a bitch long before I was.

I then got an email from HR saying they wanted to talk to me the following day, and when I called for clarification they mentioned a "hostile work environment" (note: this is apparently an American term and holds little weight in England but it's what was said over the phone). I knew the person who signed off the email and I'd spoken to. Her name was Debbie, and she was Jill's friend in HR so I was fairly confident on who had reported me.

I realised that if this was already being sent to HR, I needed as much ammunition as possible, so I went about collecting my information.

As Debbie had dealt with me so far, it was safe to assume she would be the person reviewing the complaint with me, and if that was true I was fucked. However, I vaguely remembered a section on complaints that was in my contract when I first signed with the company. I flicked through the contract and there was a part in complaints section that said I was contractually allowed to request a change of reviewer if I felt my allocated reviewer was biased. It was called an "impartial overseer". I photocopied the page and highlighted that part.

Then I messaged the people who had offered their support over facebook, and said basically "HR have asked to see me. Do any of you remember Jill insulting me to your face and are you willing to write and sign something saying what you heard and when?". Not everyone was willing to help as Jill is somewhat feared in the office due to her befriending HR and management but about 20 people were willing to help me.

I guessed roughly when I'd asked Jill to stop previously (the 4 asks over the last few months, some timings were easy to guess as they'd happened on my break or when I'd first arrived at work) and I wrote them all down, along with a rough time of when the lunchroom confrontation happened and a list of names of who was there for the lunchroom confrontation.

I got to work slightly early the next morning. I went round everyone who had messaged me and most of them managed to give me a printed and signed letter (some didn't manage to write one but nbd). This isn't exact words as there's 16 letters to sum up here but the gist was:

"My name is [their name]. I work with Jill Lastname and OP. On [date] at [time] (approx), I spoke with Jill Lastname, during which she referred to OP as [quoted insult]. I felt this was inappropriate as it directly related to OP's appearance and am willing to go on record further to establish that Jill Lastname has been discussing OP in the workplace in the same manner for 3 months now, causing me discomfort and creating what I feel is a hostile work environment. Signed [their name]"

I wound up with about 16 letters, all from different people, and one of them was in the lunchroom for my conversation with Jill. Some even had bulletpointed lists of everything Jill had said to them about me or other people, as it turns out Jill has issues with a lot of people's appearances. She apparently made comments about one coworker's weight, and something antisemitic about a different coworker's nose, all of which were put in these letters. There are about 45 people in the office so while 16 wasn't a majority, it's still a decent amount. The letters weren't hugely long, most were only a paragraph, but they had all the necessary information.

I was asked to come to HR at 10am. I took the letters from coworkers, the photocopy of the page in my contract, and my dates and times in a little folder with me.

I got there and Debbie was the one overseeing the interview. She got up from her desk, ready to lead me into another room.

I immediately turned to the other HR worker that was currently there and said "so is my meeting with you, then?"

Debbie said "no, you're with me."

I replied that this wouldn't sit well with me, as "my contract states I have a right to an impartial overseer" and as I said this I took the contract page out of my folder. Debbie read it (I wouldn't let her take the paper when there was a shredder so close by) and said she could be impartial. I replied that I really didn't mean to be a pain, but I had it on good authority that the person on the other end of this complaint is her friend, and my contract does say I'm allowed an impartial overseer.

Debbie stomped off to get Supervisor. Supervisor asks how I know she can't be impartial and I tell him that I have it on good authority that the Jill, who was on the other end of this complaint, is a close friend of Debbie. He asked Debbie if this was true, to which she only replied "I can be impartial".

Supervisor took a deep breath, asked the other HR rep to come with him, and the four of us all went to review the complaint. I thanked them for being so accommodating (I was worried I'd annoyed them), Debbie took out the complaint and all 3 of them went through it with me. Debbie looked homicidal the whole time the interview was happening, as she had clearly anticipated firing me (or at least recommending me being fired).

The interview went something like this. It took like over half an hour and they kept asking me the same questions but phrased different ways so this is a really drastically condensed version.

Q: You said outside that you think Jill Lastname reported you. Why is this?

A: Jill has had an issue with me for about 3 months now

Q: Why didn't you come to us when you realised Jill had an issue?

A: I had no issue with her

Q: What issue does Jill have with you?

A: Four years ago a specialist identified potentially cancerous cells in my breast tissue. I had surgery to remove my breast tissue, thereby removing the cells and the risk. After the surgery I was left with large scars on my chest. I went to a therapist for low self esteem and depression. The therapist suggested a plastic surgeon who suggested breast implants to cover my scars. All of this is in my medical history which you have a copy of in my file and my full permission to review. Jill found out about my breast implants but didn't know about the cancer. Jill had a problem with my breast implants, and decided to communicate this problem to our coworkers.

Q: Why do you feel this is true?

A: Here's 16 signed statements all from different coworkers, all testifying that Jill told the entire office I'd had breast implants on the day she found out and has since made comments about these implants frequently. They have quotes of what Jill said to them about it and rough dates and times.

Q: Rough dates and times?

A: No one knew this would be escalated to such an extent so no one really took notes as and when it happened.

Q: What event or events do you think directly led to this complaint of harassment?

A: For me harassment began when Jill told everyone about my breast implants without my consent, but as to the complaint placed against me, it would probably be what happened at about [time] yesterday in the lunch room. Jill made a comment about me being shallow while gesturing to my breasts and I replied by giving her an abridged version of my relevant medical history and ending with a comment about the importance of getting the full story. There are cameras in the lunch room, so I'm sure you'll be able to find that conversation. I'll admit I could have handled the situation better, but after 3 months I felt I had to put my foot down. Here's a list of names of people who were also present. There were 6 people at the table, including myself and Jill. One of these people is also in those letters, and has written their account of the conversation and signed it.

Q: Had you had a conversation with Jill prior to this regarding her comments about you?

A: Several, spaced out over the last 3 months. Each time I communicated to her that I felt uncomfortable and upset with these comments she was making and would appreciate it if she were to stop.

Q: To your knowledge, was Jill made aware of your former cancer at any point in this time?

A: No. It wasn't mentioned in the conversation with my friend she overheard and I didn't tell her because frankly it's none of her business and I did not feel the need to detail my medical history to a coworker in order to avoid further sexual harassment.

Supervisor stands up and says "well I think we're done here". He shakes my hand and sends me back to my desk saying that I'd hear from them after they reviewed the evidence (letters, CCTV, medical history and anything they had already) and made a decision on the case.

I got back to my desk, pulled up my CV, and prepared to start the job search again.

About an hour goes by, then the person who wrote the letter and was there for the lunchroom conversation gets called for a meeting with HR. They come back 10ish minutes later.

The other people who were also there for the lunchroom conversation get called one by one, except Jill. All of them are gone for about 10 minutes then come back, find a coworker, and say that HR wants to see them.

Then the people who wrote letters but weren't there yesterday are also called one by one and are each gone for about 10 minutes each, some longer, some shorter. By about 3:30 it looks like everyone who wrote a letter or was there in the lunch room has been interviewed.

Then, finally, Jill gets called in. She's gone for about 30 minutes and comes back fuming. She glares at me while I work, but I ignore her.

4:30ish, Jill gets called into HR again. 5 pm rolls around, everyone is either leaving or getting ready to leave, when Jill storms back into the office. She glares at me the whole time she packs up her desk. She then starts telling anyone who will listen that I got her fired before shoving her way onto the lift.

An email comes in from HR. My case is closed.

(source) story by (/u/3240278189)

#prorevenge #by /u/3240278189 #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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inforapound · 4 years

Text

Emboîté Part 3

A/N - Part 3 of @youbloodymadgenius writing celebration fic. Than you so much for your likes and comments. The saucy Part 4 will be up tonight.

Pairing – Ivar and Sarah (Aethelswith)

Words – 3,500 approx

Series Warning – explicit smut, dance industry inaccuracies, fluffy Ivar, possessive Ivar, semi-slow burn, ‘baby’ used as a term of endearment.

Having lived my life in leotards, leggings, and costumes with little to them, I rarely thought twice about how much of my body was on display. Walking toward me, Ivar looked everywhere but at the short, soft pink dress and sheer leggings, I had chosen for the occasion. Without arrogance or his usual stiff expression, he looked almost shy. It was so adorable it hurt and in that moment, I wished I knew him well enough to tease.

Arriving precisely one hour after my distress call, he came through the doors dressed ‘down’ in a grey button-up shirt and expensive-looking jeans carrying not one but two camera bags, strapped across his chest. It was clear, Ivar Lothbrok did not mess around.

“Hi,” I smiled pleased to be on my own turf.

“Hi, you look,” his bright eyes and neutral face did a quick sweep of my front, “…. ready.”

Not uncomfortable, more focussed, he listened while unpacking his gear, placing it onto a long wooden table pushed against the wall.

“We were all asked to contribute something for the silent auction on the 23rd and Derek, my friend, he’s professional photographer,” Ivar’s eyes narrowed, listening to me rattle on, “was set to take two photos of me. One dancing and one wearing a gown provided by Caffrey’s, our sponsor, who provide all our evening wear. Anyway... the photos will be blown up and framed and put out for the auction.”

“You want mid-motion shots or still poses?” he asked, cutting to the chase.

“I was going to leave that to…”

“Derek?” he asked, glancing up from the canon in his hand, his eyes skipping between each of mine.

“Yeah.”

“Got it.” Dropping his eyes back down to his camera, he flicked various buttons, a digital screen lighting up on the back.

“What do you think I should do?”

Looking up, he said nothing, his mind obviously working it through.

“Let's get some test shots for light and then just do your thing. Forget, I’m here.” With a quick jerk of his head, he indicated he was set.

Moving to my invisible mark on the floor, he took what felt like eight or ten shots of me standing in the center of the room in first position. Adjusting dials and playing with his zoom, he looked through the lens, his other eye squeezing closed, the shutter firing in a rush of clicks. Using a different black cane than the night of the auction, he hooked it on the inside of his elbow anytime he stood in one place. It seemed like an extension of his body, moving it with ease and I knew then his dramatic limp was not an injury but a condition.

It was time. Walking back to the table, I pressed the player, returning to my spot at the center of the wooden floor. The music sounded and I began. Swiveling, I rose up onto pointe, lifting and swinging my right leg in a broad sweep, shoulder height, before dropping and dramatically walking forward with rushed steps. I chose to dance my favourite part of the ballet Coppelia. Leaping high, my extended legs and pointed toes cut and curved through the air. For my size, I had always excelled at grand jetés and knew they often made for an impressive photograph.

My muscles and tendons, calloused feet and bones, blood and soul knew these steps so automatically, so ingrained that my mind could suspend and almost observe. There were few times in life, one could be wholly present, and dancing provided those moments for me. No concerns or past, no fear or questions, no right or wrong, good or bad, just movement. My body simply called forward into this graceful fluidity that felt as natural as taking a breath. So, this piece seemed fitting for such a sensation as the story was about a man who created a dancing doll, void of a mind, who moved so remarkably she floated like some beautiful celestial being. He became obsessed and controlling with her the more people fell in love with her dancing. I felt like a doll twirling and leaping, prancing with delicate steps, void of thoughts, responding only to the pull of the enchanting music.

The last steps were upon me and I rose onto point, extending my other leg vertical to my body, my toes reaching up toward the ceiling. Dropping forward, into a grand révérence, I held allowing the music to come to its end.

Silence.

Pulling myself up from a deep bow, I turned to look at Ivar. Lowering his camera, our eyes met. He had this confronted look and I could only assume he wasn’t sure what to say. The force of his stare and then a quick flutter of his eyelashes betrayed him though. He was impressed.

Exhaling, I relaxed my shoulders, resting my hands on my hips as I caught my breath.

Strange moments had been happening since I first saw him in that ballroom, and this was no exception. Neither of us seemed to know what to say, and I felt this sense of impatience, wishing I knew him already. Wanting, somehow, to fast forward through this polite unfamiliarity to a place where we talk without feeling guarded.

“Okay?” I lifted my chin.

“Yeah,” he answered, lowering his cane to the floor, stepping back to his equipment on the table. Glancing back, “More than okay,” he said, turning again to his gear.

Moving toward him, I grabbed my water bottle off the table and took a long drink.

“Thanks...for this. I would have felt like a ninny with nothing to contribute.”

“Ninny?”

“Yeah,” I smiled looking down at the floor, running my hand, out of habit up the back of my hair to my tight bun.

“Pickle, ninny, do they teach these phrases in Canada?”

“I don’t know,” I laughed, subtly shaking my head, pleased to see his broad smile and shining eyes. “Are you okay waiting while I change and clean up for the dress shots? I might be half an hour or so.”

“You want to do those here?”

“I guess. They were going to be done in Derek’s studio but he’s home sick. I’d rather be lit on fire than have you see my place so, yeah, here.” Looking around the room, I could still feel his eyes, watching me. “I could stand by the window or by the grand piano. Whatever you want. You’re taking the photos.”

Turning from the waist, he inspected the large room with its high ceilings and antique crown moldings, white walls and patinaed oak floors. It was a bright beautiful space.

“So?” he squinted one eye and I could tell he had a plan, “Whatever I want?”

“You are the photographer,” I nodded.

“Mine then.”

The playfulness in his smile and straight white teeth were not helping me catch my breath.

“Your what?”

“My place. My apartment. It has large east-facing windows. The light will be perfect for the next couple of hours. Once the sun sets, the sky will be backlit over the city. You will look…” he nodded, raising his brows but quickly glanced down to the camera he held like a security blanket. “It will work.” Looking back up, his eyes searched mine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

---

I failed horrendously at keeping causal when walking in behind him, carrying my old duffle and garment bags. My steps slowed to a stop as I entered the contemporary, open concept living room, dining room and kitchen, all with a backdrop of massive steel and glass windows.

“This is amazing,” I said looking up at the high ceilings that opened further to a large loft on a second level. Smooth cement pillars stood in the corner of the floor-to-ceiling windows and ran up through the high, soaring ceilings. Like a nerd, I bent down and ran the pads of my fingers across the glassy black floors. “What is this?”

“Polished concrete,” he answered as he flipped through letters that had been pushed through a mail slot in his door. His own mail slot.

My mother’s crudely lined lips and spiteful words came to mind, when you date a man with money, you bloody well earn every cent. I sighed, shaking off her poison knowing that she in some perverse way hoped I would end up on my back, in some director’s office, working to stay relevant. My poor, bitter mother.

Walking to the dining room, I knew immediately it was not a table to place my shitty old sac on. Draping my dress bag over the back of a tall dining room chair, I dropped the duffle bag to the floor.

Turning around, I found Ivar watching me, leaning against the eating bar that separated his dining room and kitchen. There was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes and I wondered if he pretended not to know how good looking he was. Or, perhaps he was indifferent to the opinions of others. That seemed more likely.

“Come,” he walked over, grabbing my garment bag and led me back toward the entrance and into a large bathroom, in which every surface was the same type of white stone. Hooking the hanger on the glass shower door, he turned to me, glancing around the bathroom as if to check that everything was in its place.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, playing with his cane, picking it up and bouncing its rubber base on the tile floor.

Smiling, I shook my head, internally dying at the image of him standing behind me with a flat iron.

“Okay, I’ll be out there.”

---

Stepping out of the washroom, my hair, by some fluke was skillfully styled down and smoothed out with a gentle wave, and my smoky eyes and nude lipstick were masterfully applied, just as Derek and I had practiced. I even felt confident in my spectacular silver heals. Peering down my front, I ran my hands over my hips, smoothing the grey shimmering satin, loving how the draped silky material felt against the skin of my, shaved that morning, legs.

“That was fa..” Turning around, his words caught in his throat. Closing his mouth, his eyes blatantly scoured the length of my body, his expression not filtering a thing.

I had been a performer all my life but could not remember a single person ever looking at me with that kind of awe.

Glancing down again, I adjusted the seams on the inside of the long sleeves, realizing how much I had wanted him to react this way.

Clearing his throat, he didn’t smile but his body settled as if easing into the reason I was there.

“Okay,” he inhaled loud enough for me to hear and lifted his hand toward the living room. “Let’s start with you in front of the corner window. Maybe even have you lean against the column. God, it’s perfect.” His eyes skipped back down my body. “The silver of your dress with the sky behind.” Pausing, his face softened. “That dress.” His eyes flashed wide and he shook his head with a half-grin.

“Thank you.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t wear that on Saturday.” Taking the lead, he walked toward the living room, stopping behind a leather armchair. “I would have doubled my bid.”

“I’ll remember that,” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye as I passed him, heading toward the window. A surge of excitement raced through me knowing that he was seconds away from seeing my exposed skin in the backless dress, cut down to just above my bottom.

“Derek and I picked it out together. So many at Caffrey’s looked like ice capade costumes. I am not a frilly person and he liked the clean lines of it.”

Moving past his low-slung furniture and glass coffee table, I walked toward the corner windows, passing a stunning black ornate fireplace, feeling his eyes burning up and down my spine. Biting my bottom lip to conceal my smile, I wished I could see his face.

“Stop!” he called and I froze, my hands shooting up in front of me, thinking I shouldn’t have walked across his fancy rug with heels on. Slowly looking over to him, he stood beside the armchair, camera lifted, staring at me over the viewfinder.

“Right there. Do not move. Keep looking at me like that.”

Taking his direction, I stayed in place. The clicking of the camera started with a flurry.

With a pleased grunt, he lowered the camera and pressed a button to flip through the images. “God, this is perfect. That is the shot! That is the mother-fucking shot! You look,” lifting his excited face, his bright eyes faltered seeing me again. “You look… perfect.”

“Wow, okay. Thank you.” Shifting my heals, I turned to face him. “That was… fast.”

His attention was already back to the photos on his screen.

Stepping carefully across the dark, likely hand made rug, I headed back, en route to the bathroom.

“Don’t go,” he blurted causing me to snap my head over at him. “Not yet,” his tone was gentle. His puppy eyes were staring right into mine and I had no doubt this man got anything and everything he wanted in life. “Let’s take more. Just for fun. Hmm?” Bobbing his head, his expression turned playful.

Jesus, yes.

Like the good girl that I am, I took a seat on the built-in concrete bench that ran the length of the wall of windows.

Coming out of the kitchen, Ivar’s limp was pronounced, in fact, it looked painful without his cane, as he moved toward me carrying a glass of wine in each hand. Stopping myself from jumping to help, I waited, accepting the glass with a smile when he handed it to me. It tasted lovely and cold and was in the most elegant wine glass...of course.

And did we play…. Ivar stepped into his role as photographer, directing me on position, placement, even how to rest my hands, gently tucking my hair behind my ear and tilting my chin just as he wanted. His fingers lingering longer and longer each time they touched my body or hair or the fabric of my dress. The air felt thick when he was close causing my skin to warm and I felt a wave of disappointment whenever he stepped back. I was his muse, his doll and it was incredibly arousing.

The more photos he took, the more I allowed my inhibitions to unravel and it only fueled Ivar to become more expressive, excited even.

“Okay. Now, I’ll have you come to the couch and just do what feels natural. The glass behind with the colours in the sky, ughh,” he grunted, “amazing.”

Turning his attention back to the eating bar, he took a sip of his wine, scrolling through the last handful of shots. With his back turned, I used it as an opportunity to situate myself. Rolling from my seated position on the black leather sofa, I lay down on my tummy, propping myself up on my elbows, letting my heels drop to the carpet.

Spinning to face me, his eyes widened with surprise but he quickly recovered, pressing his lips together and returning to his role. He could not lift his eyes from me though. Could barely blink. Peering up at him from over my shoulder, his gaze dragged down the length of my bare back, holding on the round swell of my behind, naturally arching toward him. The dim, early evening light, made his normally brilliant eyes appear a deep blue. His entire expression seemed darker somehow as if laying below him, taking his every direction drew him into some wicked part of his mind. I had never felt this sensual before and didn’t want the feeling to fade or for him to stop staring at me like I was the most remarkable thing he had ever seen.

Lowering to sit on the glass coffee table, he lifted his camera once again, his lens sweeping up my form, focussing straight in on my face. Looking directly into the lens, I wondered if my expression was as yearning and wonton as I felt. The air had definitely shifted, and perhaps the glimmer or suggestion in my heavy-lidded eyes gave away my desire. Either he knew the contents of my mind, and how my body was responding or he felt the same as the intensity in his gaze rapidly grew. Faint grunts of approval, running his tongue over his lips, even outright murmuring how incredible and beautiful I looked, swearing under his breath.

I had to consciously control my breathing. The force of his stare, peering over his camera, sped my heart. How could he be doing this to me? It felt crazy knowing that I had only just met him but would not have stopped him from crawling over me, sinking down against my back and grinding into ass. Just the thought made me nearly rock my pelvis against the leather couch, needy for pressure on the tingling between my legs.

“You are so perfect, Sarah,” he whispered, and it occurred to me how often he used my name. I had never liked my name but somehow, the way it slipped from his tongue always with an exhale, it sounded anything but plain.

Two more clicks, three, the camera felt like the only barrier between us now as he slid closer to me, up the table. The image of his smooth, plush lips pressed to mine flashed through my mind and I exhaled loud enough for him to hear.

“Sarah,” he whispered again, my eyes still fixed on the lens of his camera as if hypnotized.

Click. Beep, beep, beep.

“For fuck sakes,” he snarled loudly, lowering his camera. “Don’t move. Don’t move.” Pushing himself up, he rushed, teetering as he walked without his cane, leaning on the back of the furniture to the bar. “Let me just change the battery and we’ll keep going.” Glancing back quickly as if to make sure I was still there, “God, have I really taken over a hundred photos!” he laughed sharply, dropping his head back. He was giddy.

“Ivar?” I pushed up on the couch to sit, combing my fingers through my tousled hair, attempting to blink off the spell I felt under. I needed to move, get some air before… well, I wasn’t sure what, but something was going to happen if I stayed splayed out like a dog in heat. I barely knew him!

Turning back to me, frustration flashed through his features but he stopped and looked at me. No, scrutinized, me.

“Ivar, I think I need to...”

“Who is Derek?” he cut me off, the question catching me by surprise.

“The photographer I told you about.” Not reacting, he stood waiting for me to continue. “Actually, he was one of the first people I met when I moved here. He is the photographer for the theatre, or I should say the theatre is one of his clients. He took my headshots for the company and we became close. It was nice as I was new to the city. Didn’t know anyone. Still don’t really.”

“So, it is more than professional between you?” he narrowed his eyes as if confused by something I said.

My stomach fluttered and I suddenly felt odd sitting across the room from him. “Yes,” I replied realizing that clarified nothing.

His eyes flashed again and he glanced down at his camera. I could see the steeliness in his gaze when he looked back up. “So, he dates the new ballerinas?”

Ignoring the insinuation, I answered, “He is my close friend and one who is far more interested in… ballerinos.” My brows spiked high on my forehead emphasizing my meaning.

Tilting his head to one side, he squinted further, before, “Oh!”

Locking eyes again, we looked at each other longer than what felt appropriate and I wondered if we would have reconnected if Derek hadn’t serendipitously fallen ill. Sooner than later, my instincts told me.

“I am going to go and change,” I finally said, needing to say something.

Rising from the couch, I picked my heals up off the rug and headed toward the hall for the bathroom. The room had become shadowy and I stared at the floor as I walked, gasping when he grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward him, my hair flying out of place.

“Sorry,” he spoke quietly, letting go of my arm. We were standing close. “Don’t change,” his voice was just above a whisper. “Let’s not waste that dress.” His eyes dropped, sweeping across my chest. “Can I take you back to Piccolo’s for supper?”

“Twice in one week?” I smiled softly, inwardly thrilled by how he was looking at me.

Shrugging, his eyes watched my mouth, waiting for me to answer.

Giggling, a little too loudly, two thoughts occurred, I really did need to eat after two glasses of wine on an empty stomach and I was no where near ready to say goodbye. Lifting my chin, my smile widened, “We are creatures of habit, are we not?”

@youbloodymadgenius @naaladareia @whenimaunicorn @lol-haha-joke @ceridwenofwales @jaydelesley4 @sweeneythots @funmadnessandbadassvikings @fangirl-nonsense @thiahilmarsdottir @redama @mdredwine @didiintheblog @yourpurplequeen @londongal2810 @fields-and-fields-of-poppies @readsalot73 @hexqueensupreme @silly-bullshit-collector @littlecarolina94 @oddsnendsfanfics @youbelongeverywhere @blonddnamedhandz @waiting4inspiration @flowers-in-your-hayr @zuxiezendler @heavenly1927 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @jzr201 @hecohansen31

#ivar fic #ivar fanfiction #modern ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarson #ivar smut #ivar love story #ivar love #ivar slow burn #slow burn #ivar au #vikings fic

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billyhardgrove · 4 years

Text

all i want for christmas is booze (b.h)

A/N: It’s Christmas in a month and so here’s a festive piece to get us in the mood. I think it might be 2 or 3 parts so just a mini series xx

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS BOOZE

Pairing: Billy& Reader Word Count: 2.1k approx. Warning: Swearing

Summary: You’re about to head over to your parents for Christmas until you find the one guy that you despise sitting on a bench by himself.

PART 1

You detested him - his obnoxious arrogance that drenched and filtered into every room he walked upon; his goddamn smirk that held the sure confidence he bore too much of; his thoughtless, nasty words that departed his lips without consideration of anyone but himself – you detested Billy Hargrove and everything he stood for.

Though the feeling was mutual.

Billy hated you too – your bitchy-attitude filled with supposed superiority to him, matching your endless sighing and groaning of annoyance at anything he did; your signature response of rolling your eyes too often having had failure to actually respond with a verbal reply to his dim-witted words; your constant rejection of his crude and perverted suggestions that made you want to hurl if you heard him speak them one more time – he hated you too.

The pair of you had been neighbours for nearly a year now, and it was from the very beginning when you were sleeping in your new place that this hate-filled feud began to brew between you and Billy.

It all began with the first night consisting of him throwing a party overrun by blaring house music and rowdy young adults. It kept you awake to the early hours of the morning which wasn’t exactly how you wanted your first night in your brand new home to be spent.

But, not wanting to get off on the wrong foot, you never confronted Billy about that first night initially, hoping that this was just a one off, that not every night was going to be like this.

But you were mistaken.

Once again another noise complaint was brimming your lips. Only this time it was for a reason you’d really rather not interrupt.

The second night was a reckless one as your desperate need for sleep was interrupted repeatedly by the high screams and blissful moans of an unknown girl, the sounds of such ecstasy fighting for the urge of control over the repetitive banging on the wall of what you could only assume to be a bed.

Two consecutive nights of no sleep. Surely it wouldn’t be a regular thing?

You had hoped not but by the third night, just as your head had hit the pillow, your eyes barely closing before the unmistakeable sounds of sex echoed through the seemingly paper thin walls once more.

You weren’t going to stand for it and you didn’t want this to be a reoccurring thing so why not nip it in the bud early?

You were fuming, angry and exhausted, and you didn’t give a shit that the then unknown appearance of your neighbour would be the tanned blonde curley-haired guy with the unfortunate pretty face.

It had caught you off guard at first, having been thumping loudly on his door over and over until you heard distant curses of the disruption. Your words had caught in your throat as you took in the glistening bare chest and broad shoulders of the man before you.

His hair was dishevelled and sticking up in ridiculous places, his stubble scruffy and tracing along his jawline while his mean but ocean blue eyes glared at you.

You hated it. You hated how goddamn attractive you found him. And you had almost gasped aloud in awe at the appearance of your then-new-neighbour, but then the whiney voice of a brunette perking up from behind the blonde reminded you of the reason you were first there.

And you had been sure to give him a piece of your mind after that.

Irritated, tired and bitter, profanity after profanity had left your lips at an uninterruptable rate leaving barely any room for argument. You had made sure to get your message across at how inconsiderate and selfish he was being towards the other people in the building, and you felt satisfied and smug at the way you handled the situation…that was until the only response you got from the guy was a wordless scoff and the door being slammed in your face.

You were outraged to say the least. How could someone be so rude and have such indecency?

That’s when you decided you didn’t like him. Not even knowing his name and not actually holding a conversation with the guy yet, you detested your next door neighbour.

And you made sure he was aware of this. At first you decided to try and get some sort of revenge on the unnamed blonde, and for the next two nights you had blasted your music as loud as possible until the floors shook and the walls vibrated with the bass of the melody.

But in turn it ended with you receiving several noise complaints from other residents in the building and a smug-looking Billy that stood resting against his doorway as he watched you get bombarded with annoyed neighbours at yours.

He had known that you were trying to get back at him, and at first it had succeeded as for the first time in a while Billy was trying to sleep in his bed without a random girl in his bed, and due to the booming noise of your stereo, he couldn’t.

But then Billy took matters into his own hands and caused your plan to back fire as he let loose little gossip complaints to the other residents on the floor, planting a seed in their heads that had them annoyed at you, going against you and taking his side.

For those residents would rarely make any complaints against Billy himself because they were intimidated by him and he had gained some sort of power or control over them. So easily he convinced them to turn against you.

He made it clear to you that this was not a battle you were fit to fight. But you didn’t back down.

From then on the two of you seemed to be holding this endless dual against one another, trying to make the other’s life a living hell.

From raging parties to loud hook-ups; from placing lubricated condoms on your door handle to you adding a petty red sock in his white wash in the laundry room; from immature games of ‘ding dong ditch,’ to him locking you out of your own apartment when you left your door open just to bring out the garbage.

It was a never-ending feud and you grew tired of it as soon as it had started. But you were in too deep now- there was no way you could back down after all this, no matter whether Billy always had the upper hand or not.

Any typical person that didn’t get along with their neighbour would surely search urgently for another place to live as soon as possible, not wanting to put up with the other for more than they could. But with you and Billy, well, yes you hated each other, but you were also both as stubborn as the next. There seemed to be another silent contest, the pair of you merely refusing to move with the simple reason to spite and piss off the other.

Immature would be a word that would spring to mind, but the pair of you were too headstrong to care.

But it was different today – today you refused to let any of Billy’s unnecessary snarky comments rile you up, for today was your favourite time of year: Christmas.

Ranging from the irreplaceable holiday cheer spread amongst everyone paired with family fun filled night of happiness and joy to the overall twinkling exclusive atmosphere reserved and brought out only for this one day of the year. It was everything about this holiday that made you love it.

But the same couldn’t be said for everyone.

You quickly straightened the bottom of your velvet dress, and urgently slipped on your overcoat not wanting to keep your sister and her boyfriend waiting for longer than necessary out in that winter cold.

You were going to your parents’ house – just like every year – for the annual family gathering and scrumptious turkey dinner. Not wanting to forget the large bundle of Christmas presents you had carefully bought for everyone, you had put them in a couple of gift bags to make it easier for you to carry them, the thought of balancing several presents on top of one another not as inviting. Grabbing the ribbon handles of the gift bags, you finally closed the door to your apartment before quickly – well, as fast as you could in your heels – making your way towards the elevator.

Reaching the lobby, you spotted the familiar couple standing towards the door entrance and you instantly uttered a sorrow-filled apology to your sister and her boyfriend, Jeremy, for making them wait - they only gave you an earnest smile before Jeremy offered to carry a couple of your bags, noticing the way you struggled.

The three of you were going to arrive at your parents together, and seeing as you lived relatively close to each other, it also gave you permission to drink tonight since your sister was expecting. It was unplanned and sudden but the couple were excited for the arrival of the baby nonetheless.

Almost instantly, the quiet space was filled with chatter as you hadn’t seen your sister in a short while and there was a lot to get caught up on.

But it was stepping out into the bitter cold of the night that made you revel in the close memory of the crackling fire you sigh for every year. The star-flash of tinsel glittering brightly as the ribbons of flame twirl and spindle, dancing in the hearth of the fire. Those licking blazes that chase away the burglar-black wall shadows merely doing their unified duty of sending tingles through your fingers as they rid them toasty.

Puffing softly into the blueing palms of your hands, you gazed across the magical-looking street before you. With the various sparkling and twinkling lights overhead that slithered down the sides of houses and homes and the extraordinary paramount evergreen tree that was situated right at the entrance of the vast park that stretched in front of your apartment building, frost-spikes hung from the window sill like a Phantom’s glassy fingers as you hummed in content, that familiar and loving pleasure of joy tingling through you at how much you adored such a view and atmosphere.

Beyond the pavement, the world was a moonscape of white, Jack Frost’s fangs having bitten deep into the flesh and blood of the earth the night before and merely leaving it numb-cold and drained. There was no bird song, no grass whisper, no footfall. Jack hated everything living. He seemed to swoop down soundlessly from the casted sky and strangle the world into an imminent silence.

But that unnerving quietness was soon interrupted by the sound of footsteps and harmonious laughter as the three of you walked the peaceful streets. Everyone was tucked comfortably away with their own family, for this holiday was the perfect excuse for that, no need for wondering the ungiving sidewalk.

Everyone was with their families on this beautiful evening, everyone but one. And you came across them just as you passed the acquainted corner café you spent too much time in.

Situated on a frosted wooden bench, his feet resting on the base seat while he sat on the back of the bench, the cocky blonde you frequently despised sat alone. Between the boy’s fingers was a lit cigarette, the smoke ghosting and snaking from the ashed end. Held at home in his other was a poorly hidden bottle of alcohol – most likely whiskey – the brown paper bag grasped tightly around the neck of the bottle.

A leather jacket stretched across his broad shoulders, evidently not doing a good job of keeping him warm – though you were sure his drink would make up for that.

He looked like a ghost, lifeless and grey, with perhaps the only colour being his reddish cheeks and Rudolph-red nose, maybe paired with his bloodshot eyes. His teeth chattered as his lips wrapped comfortably around his cigarette, the ashy-end glowing orange when he inhaled the unforgiving poisons.

He hadn’t noticed your presence yet as Billy only stared at his feet, feeling nothing but hopeless and lonely.

He hated Christmas. The obnoxious cheer everyone was desperate to feel and ‘share’ with each other making him scoff at how fake it appeared, the flickering Christmas lights giving him nothing but a demanding headache when he looked at them and – the worst part being - the over-the-top family festivities that were frantic to create a non-existent feeling of homeliness and affection with the people that were supposed to accept you and love you unconditionally (at least that’s what Billy thought.)

It was a stupid holiday, he thought, one that he dreaded every damn year. But there was no avoiding it, and so he merely drowned in the uncomfortable lonesome quiet with his two favourite accomplices that would ensure he forgot this day the morning after.

But his despairing silence and self-pity was soon to be disrupted by the sound of a familiar but abnormally warm and quiet voice; your voice.

PART 2

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove drabble #billy hargrove writing #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove angst #christmas #christmas imagine #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery imagine #dacre montgomery writing #dacre x reader #stranger things #stranger things series #stranger things imagine #stranger things writing #billy hargrove series #billy #hargrove

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michiigii-writes-mysme · 6 years

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“Can I have a Dirty Werewolf?”

RFA Coffee House AU - Halloween

Pairing: Zen x Reader/MC

Summary: The RFA are baristas at Rika and V’s cafe. Contains fluff! …Not as dirty as the title sounds. <3

Word Count: Approx. 1500

Protip: The ever-so-generous @digitalscratch-arting bestowed upon me an illustration! (I’m so happy!!)

Halloween wasn’t for everybody, but its main perk was obvious: the excuse to dress up as a colourful character with minimal judgement from the public. And anybody could appreciate a good costume, whether one dressed up or not. You couldn’t help but admire some particularly intricate outfits as you walked to your favourite coffeehouse: Rika’s Coffee Shoppe.

It was a crisp day; just warm enough that trick-or-treaters could openly wear their more practical costumes. The sun was close to setting, so there were a few witches sporting warm scarves, and you spotted one or two ninjas wearing a fluffy hat. You had to smile at that; practicality and panache collided.

As you swung the cafe door open, the usual bell that you were familiar with hearing was replaced with a witch’s laughter.

That’s different, you thought, looking up in surprise and seeing a tiny plush pumpkin swinging where the bell used to be.

“HAPPY HALLOWEEN!” Someone screamed from the counter, then laughed when you flinched.

“Seven!” you exclaimed, your voice sharp, but an involuntary smile starting across your face.

There were three of the usual baristas at the counter: Seven was leaning casually near the register, doing nothing useful, Saeran had his head down as he wiped the counter down, and Yoosung was finishing off the drinks for a small group of girls at the end. The twin redheads were wearing coordinated costumes; Seven was dressed as a pharaoh, complete with ornate headdress and jewelry, and Saeran had a mummy costume on. However, on closer inspection as you came close, you realized Saeran was wearing his favourite sweater and jeans underneath costume bandages. He didn’t look like he had planned his costume.

“…Did you get ambushed by Seven this morning?” you asked the quiet barista.

“How could you tell?” he deadpanned, giving you a bland look.

You both shared apologetic smiles, yours warm and bright, his cool but not unfriendly. Saeran often got caught in the wake of his brother’s shenanigans. It was all too easy for you to imagine Saeran coming down to breakfast, half awake, only to be attacked by Seven with a giant roll of mummy bandages. Thankfully, this was one of Seven’s more harmless pranks.

“Your usual?” Seven called to you from the register, his heavy jewellery tinkling as he waved enthusiastically at you.

“Yes, please!” you answered, heading over to him, already pulling your wallet out.

“Aw, but you didn’t even look at my special menu~!” Seven pouted, motioning to the chalkboard behind him, “Look! I worked so hard on it!”

You raised your eyebrows, then looked up to the menu board. There were fancy mixed drinks designed especially for the holiday. Some were cold, most were hot, and they all had names that had something to do with Halloween, like “Boo-berry Tea” and “Vampire Elixir.” And somebody had doodled decorations representing each drink beside their description.

“Oh, those are cool!” you complimented, seeing how detailed the new drinks were, “Did you make the recipes up yourself?”

With a glint in his eye, Seven started to answer, but Yoosung quickly interrupted, stuffing a napkin into the red-head’s mouth. You saw that the blond was wearing a black cat costume, with a leather belt for a tail and black mask over his face. He looked oddly familiar…

“Saeran and I did,” Yoosung interjected, giving Seven a dirty look, “We stayed up late for the past three nights, taste testing and experimenting. Seven was supposed to help, but he ended up just sucking down whipped cream the whole evening. If he even showed up.”

“What…well…I named the drinks!” Seven protested, his eyes filling with alligator tears.

You smiled at their antics, knowing this was a typical day for all of them. You half-listened as you continued looking at the new menu.

“Nope, still Saeran and me,” Yoosung insisted, crossing his arms and ignoring his friend’s tears.

“I…wrote the board?”

“That was Saeran! You were supposed to help, and you didn’t show up at work until we were already almost done decorating the board. And then you said, ‘Eh, you’re almost done, anyway!’ then you ate a whole cup of whipped cream.”

“…I drew the kitty pawprint in the corner there,” Seven said meekly.

Yoosung fell silent. You saw him glance at Saeran, who was now polishing the coffee mugs. He made a tiny nod, and Yoosung’s expression softened.

“Fine. You drew…” the black cat turned his gaze to the board, searching for Seven’s handiwork, then he frowned again when he found it, “…that dinky thing right there? That’s it?!”

“Have you chosen your drink yet, valued customer?” Seven jumped in, hurrying to lean over the counter towards you with begging in his eyes, “Please?”

“Um…I would like to try…could I get a Dirty Werewolf?” you requested, looking at a Chai-based drink. It looked hot, spiced, and tasty.

“Comin’ right up!” Seven said eagerly, and with that, he ran off to the back room, out of sight.

He ran so fast that your hair shifted in the direction he had disappeared to. Even Saeran and Yoosung looked stunned.

“Do…” Yoosung paused, then looked to the back room door, “Why…?”

Saeran openly sighed and continued with polishing mugs. Seven didn’t take long; soon, you all could hear his footsteps reapproaching…as well as someone protesting?

“…-et me go! My shift doesn’t start for another half hour! What’re you doing, Seven?!”

Crashing through the door, the red-haired prankster hauled another of the cafe’s baristas behind the counter. There was a blur of red mixed with silver hair, and suddenly, a tall, beautiful man in costume tail and ears stood before you.

“Your Dirty Werewolf, just like you ordered!” Seven grinned, motioning to his coworker.

“I’m not dirty, you-…oh. Oh!” Zen started to growl at Seven, but he stopped and softened as soon as he realized that it was you at the counter, “Uh…h-hey! Hey, how are you!”

You smiled and greeted him back, slight embarrassment colouring both your faces. Zen had been your secret crush since you started visiting this cafe. He was handsome and sweet and courtly, with just the right amount of romantic cheesiness to make you weak at the knees without feeling too guilty about it. Being who he was, he was always popular with the other ladies who visited the coffeehouse, but he always drew a rose on your coffee cups when he served you. You didn’t know if it was special, or not, but the gesture still warmed your heart.

“You’re a werewolf!” you said, gesturing at his ears and tail.

“Yeah! Not a dirty one. Not really. Just a werewolf,” Zen said quickly, the points of fangs barely visible as he spoke, “Uh…what’re you dressed as?”

“Hm? Oh…” you looked down at what you were wearing, then chuckled, “Uh…the heroine from one of my favourite games. She wears a beige sweater-dress like this one.”

“I like it! You’re really cute!” Zen blurted, then clapped a hand over his mouth.

Seven started to laugh, but Saeran slapped a hand over his brother’s mouth, stifling his own laughter with his other hand. Yoosung, you could see in the corner of your eye, had slapped his forehead before continuing to pour a drink.

“Really?” you asked without thinking, the notes of hope in your voice completely silencing the twins, “Th…thank you! I like your costume, too…it suits you.”

Zen chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders, and he leaned more casually against the counter. “I’m glad you like it.”

“He wasn’t even gonna dress up until V said it was mandatory,” you thought you heard Yoosung mutter to Saeran.

“I, um…I ordered a Dirty Werewolf,” you said shyly, “But I was kind of expecting the one with cinnamon…”

“Oh, wel-“ Zen started, but mid-word, Seven shoved a stick of cinnamon into his mouth, effectively silencing him.

“As ordered,” Seven grinned, ignoring the glare Zen was sending him.

“Please take the Zen to go,” Yoosung sighed, handing a completed handcrafted beverage in a travel cup to Zen, “He’s been making your drinks with ‘extra TLC,’ as he calls it, since you first started visiting, and frankly, it’s getting exhausting.”

“Really?” you asked again, constantly being surprised that evening. You turned your gaze to a now openly blushing Zen, “You…you have?”

“…guys, I really don’t need the interference,” Zen grumbled, “Do you have any idea how emasculating-“

“Is that a flower that you’re drawing on that cup, there?” Yoosung asked, looking pointedly at your Dirty Werewolf.

All of you could see that Zen was drawing a rose onto your cup with a special red marker he had in his apron pocket.

“…your drink, princess,” Zen mumbled, holding the drink out to you.

“Thank you,” you smiled, taking the cup and subconsciously cradling it over your heart, “…I’m sure you draw flowers for all the girls.”

“…Just my favourites,” Zen said reluctantly, then coyly added, “And I only ever have one favourite.”

He gave you a smouldering, suggestive gaze, and you felt your face heat up in response.

“Um…s…so when does a Dirty Werewolf get off work?” you said offhandedly, the slight quaver in your voice betraying how casual you wanted to sound.

Saeran had to stifle Seven’s giggles again.

“About 10:30, tonight,” Zen said sheepishly, “How about you come here, and I’ll treat you to dessert?”

“I’d like that! Um…I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah! ..and happy Halloween!”

-fin-

iT’s sTiLL HaLLoWeEn sOmEwHeRe…!

So, @monkeyhazard on the Zine Team posted this:

So. That inspired this fic! And Halloween gave me the excuse to make Zen a werewolf. Otherwise, we’d have a crazy, supernatural coffee house AU, and that’s a bit of a hat on a hat…

Yoosung’s costume was a reference to Chat Noir (from Miraculous Ladybug)! Saeran, I wanted to tease with Seven, and I wanted them to have matching costumes. Jumin and Jaehee were supposed to make appearances, but they didn’t really fit into the story… Jumin was supposed to be a magician, but all he did was add a cape, and he happened to be pale from a cold, so he was accidentally dressed as a vampire. Jaehee, I wanted to wear a maid costume. V and Rika were supposed to be a Grim Reaper (black cloak, anyone?) and Neil Gaiman’s Death, but again, I didn’t have much of an excuse to add them.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

#Zen x Reader #Zen x MC #Hyun Ryu #MysMe Zen #Mystic Messenger Zen #Mystic Messenger Fanfic #MysMe Fanfic #fluff

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breathebravegirl · 7 years

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Update for A

General update/recap of the last 3-4 weeks/the 1700-ish word long update I sent to A.

Read more because long as fuck

@p-for-penguins--here ya go!

Alright welcome home, sending this because otherwise it’s going to take approx. 8 hours to catch you up so here is a recap of my shit-show of a life, organized by category (and hashtag because obvi) and written in point form for your convenience:

Work:

SO MUCH work drama happening (more context to come, but I’m not typing out the whole situation that is sinking ship Dalhousie)

I want to scream and so many unknowns and so overwhelmed

Feeling so disregarded and unimportant and so worthless and feel like I’m being punished for being hella fucked up and I kind of just want to completely disappear

I'm kind of like, let them do what they're going to do, whatever. It's like, they clearly don't care about my wellbeing or me so why should I? It's not up to me and I'm delusional if I think I have any agency in that place.

Was filling my dad in on the work situation and literally almost burst into tears on like 4 different occasions which, I don’t know if you know me or not but that doesn’t fucking happen. But this whole work thing is fucking killing me and I’m so done. And I don’t fucking have time to be thinking/worrying about this which is making everything so much worse.

The work thing is taking up too much time and stress and space and it very much feels like the wanting to do not good stupid things (as opposed to the good stupid things…? or maybe just the less awful stupid things?) has increased significantly with the work thing

That’s probably not great and it’s probably less great that I’m super apathetic to that fact and just don’t really care and have so few reserves and am so burnt out and am getting super close to the end of this rope

Emailed boss last Saturday asking if we could chat that Monday and he never responded which is whatever, and then didn’t say anything about it on Tuesday (or Wednesday or Thursday), let alone acknowledge my existence and that’s fine like I don’t want to deal with me either, nor am i worth wasting time on so it’s fine

I'm done with the work thing. I mean, and all of it, but I'm done fighting for myself as if I matter and I'm done pretending that I think I do because we all know I don't so whatever. They're going to do whatever they want and I really don't care what the outcome is anymore. It doesn't matter

ED:

Purging is literally not even a semi-effective ~skill~ anymore and yet apparently brings everything down except I don't think it actually does which makes little to no sense

I am too big and too much and it needs to go down and weight needs to go down and it ! cannot ! stay ! here ! and it’s completely unacceptable for it to be here (and 😊this😊used😊to😊be😊a😊goal😊low😊weight😊and😊now😊it’s😊TOO😊HIGH😊)

Purging needs to be done. Or it needs to just fucking kill me already.

I cannot express how much I need to get the fuck out of my body

It’s getting to a point where the later in the day/night it gets, the more terrified I get of having it end in purging and it’s like, I know I just need to not do it but i don’t know what my problem is and it seems like it’s not that simple and i know that rising panic and anxiety re: going to bed doesn’t help but…

I cannot continue to exist in this disaster of a body and NEED to get out and it needs to go down and get smaller and be not so big and awful and horrendous and i need to get out of this fucking body

#CopingWithShitty(ButHellaEffective)Skills:

(Is it possible to hate yourself so much that you give up on self-destructing in the traditional way…? Like, not doing the cutting or making it to 5km because that would be doing something that feels good/feels deserved so I'm not because it’s more torturous not to, which is probably so fucked but…)

#ActuallyCoping:

I made the not so stupid decision to come home and do food and low and behold, Maddy stops losing her shit quite as much after food happens because apparently you can’t survive on coffee and a fear of failure WHO KNEW

Also was wanting to do all of the stupid things and so did something that I never do and texted Alysia and asked if i could go over (ugh i hate myself, inviting oneself over is never okay) and went and hung out with her and talked for literally hours and didn’t do stupid things

#MaddyBeingNeedyAsFuck:

I literally am the most pathetic but all i want is a legit hug and to feel like someone gives half a fuck about me and logistically, I know that people do but knowing that rationally and feeling via actions that it is true at all are two very different things and I should know that people care and I do but… I don’t know, clearly I have inflated expectations of other people and am selfish and am undeserving of anything anyways so it’s fine)

I kind of want to just stop bothering with everyone and stop bothering everyone and stop being annoying and whiny and complaining constantly and stop reaching out/texting/emailing and that’s not uncommon for me to want but it’s normally just a passive desire but like, I actually might, and I’m just a complete disaster and would really like to disappear like, yesterday and I don't want to do the things and everything hurts too much.

Dr. K:

Didn't end up seeing Dr. K. I guess because I had said I didn't want to touch adhd meds until after exams, he was like well then maybe we should just wait till then and I asked if we could meet today and just make a plan for afterwards and he said we should just meet after which is fine but like also kind of wanted to talk about the fact that I can't and don't sleep but whatever

The other thing is like, I know that if he were to give me anything for sleep, I would PANIC because that’s what I do with new meds. So.. It’s like a fine line. I don’t know. And part of me is like, maybe I’m just not trying hard enough or not putting in enough effort to sleeping. I don’t know. Also having meds like that is scary.

The-general-awfulness-that-is-my-life:

no !! one !! fucking !! understands !! and !! so !! alone !!

Can I put discrediting myself and minimizing all my experiences on my resume because fuck I’m good at it…

Such high distress levels and such constantly high distress levels and so exhausted (what else is new…)

I know I’m thinking myself in circles and all that but there are so many things going on that like, if I stop the spinning in one area, we jump straight to another one and there’s no calm or quiet and everything is loud

Trying to be gentle but want nothing to do with being gentle and simultaneously am too exhausted to do anything super bad (I say now, until it's 3am and I'm still awake and purging). I don't know. I just really don't want to do this anymore and want a break and I don't know how long I'm expected to hang in not being able to breathe because it's been so long and I'm exhausted and I don't want to do it anymore.

Everything is so loud and feels so irreparably broken

Have I mentioned that i hate my life and am so fucking exhausted?

The Thing™:

Things with The Thing were like, fine and pretty non-existent and then…

I went to the class I had skipped one week because the prof said we were done with the not okay topic but things were said and similar things were said in class that morning and i left but shouldn't have and I need to do well in this class and I already bombed the midterm and like I shouldn't have left and was literally about to burst into tears or throw up but it's like, what if I was just being dramatic and trying to get out of going to class

I don’t know if I’ve ever had such a physiological reaction to a ~trauma trigger. (lol fuck i feel like such a fake calling it trauma when no one fucking knows if it happened). Like, eyes welled up with tears so. many. times throughout that class and immediately felt like I was going to throw up and was on the verge of panic for probably the next 6 fucking hours and I’m exhausted and scared and want to disappear

The other day something not super cool happened except literally nothing happened but everything felt wrong and suddenly uber unsafe—in the unsafe-in-my-existence-I-am-not-safe-being-on-the-planet way, definitely not the I'm-going-do-do-something-bad way—and scared and flashbacky and unsafe and I couldn't even tell you what fucking happened or changed but something must have and super not cool

Feels:

Everything has been feeling entirely numb and we're back to everything feeling overwhelmingly heavy. Like moving is unfathomable and breathing feels like too much of a chore and is taking any existing energy.

It's like, this is brutal but so is everything else so it doesn't really matter

It’s not like this all the time but I think what scares me is the numb combined with the apathy

Good Things:

There has been minimal self-harming (maybe twice? maybe once)

There have been NO stitches

There have been 3 and 4 day long periods without purging

9 days until undergrad is done

I found a place to live

Cats

TL;DR:

Things are either literally fine or completely Not Okay™ (black/white thinking because what even is grey)

Reserves are so so low and so burnt out

Everything is so loud

And feels so irreparably broken

And so alone

Have I mentioned that I need to get out of this body?

It feels like I'm going to be trapped in this forever

I’m exhausted and scared and want to disappear

#personal #update #treatment update #anorexia #anorexia recovery #eating disorder treatment #eating disorder recovery #eating disorder #self harm #self harm recovery #cutting #depression #anxiety #adhd #actually Ed #actually anorexia #actually adhd #trauma #trauma therapy

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ruthamigia · 7 years

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Miracle & Ectopic Pregnancy

first of all , let me say Thank you for all the support and all of you have give to me and Danang. Let me explain what is happening few days later. 19th Feb 2017 we were so happy knewing that I was pregnant naturally. Some of you knew that we've been struggling for more than 3 years. Everything was as if normal pregnancy, as I expected I am got hit by morning sickness. I'm more than happy and enjoy every second of it. The blood result (beta HCG) always doubling as normal pregnancy should it be. But on regular pregnancy check up, Doctor found difficulties found our little baby on my womb/ uterus. But we keep believing that everything just gonna be okay. Until Thursday, 16th March 2017, doctor finally found the Sac and the healthy baby is implanted on my right tube. It's called Ectopic Pregnancy. I will give you complete article about this later. We do hear and saw the baby's heart beat. For us IT'S A MIRACLE, to see and hear it. Eventho we knew it wont survive anyway! for me and Danang knowing the baby is healthy but not on the right place is so hard!! We tried to absorb the information , holding hand when doctor explained this is a danger situation and we cant save the baby. Im burst into tears . We keep saying in our heart that God already know what best for us eventho it's hurt for us. I keep saying in my heart "it's okay Ruth" So doctor planned to do surgery on next day Friday 12pm. They said they need to do surgery ASAP because ANYTIME, my tube can rupture and cause internal bleeding inside my tummy that will threatening my life. Why we choose to do surgery on friday, because on thursday morning I still used a lovenox Injection, ( suntikan pengencer darah yang bertahan selama 24 jam krn saya ada kekentalan darah) So for safety reason , the surgery planned on Friday afternoon supaya darah tidak terlalu encer, krn efeknya hanya sampai jumat jam 7 pagi On thursday evening with broken hearted and swollen eyes we check in into Medistra Hospital. Everything just great , I do some blood test for preparing tomorrow surgery. Me and Danang still have some romantic dinner on hospital room .. my very best friend Kinsky Bun came and We crying together knowing my pregnancy soon gonna be removed. Thank you Kins! 😘 Suddenly around 8 pm I feel sumthing strange on my right tube. Stabbing and constant pain . In just 10-15 mnts the pain is becoming unbearable and agony! I was so much in pain that I not even can speak or cry. It's so painful. I had cold sweat all over my body. Danang and Ci Hanna holding my hand trying to help to ease the pain. Thank you ci Hanna your endlesly support and kata2 penguatan sebelum aku masuk ruang operasi.. The hospital team came help me , they already contacted my Obgyn. Luckily, my Obgyn dr Budi Marjono is one super kind hearted, very smart and helpful doctor. He came right away. Do another USG and found that I already had internal bleeding and we need to do surgery right here right now. On that situation , lucky me There was some of my inner circle that come to visit me to give me support. They came actually to cheer me up for tomorrow surgery, but they ending witnessing that awful moment in my life. Thank you for just holding my hand and saying that Im stronger than the pain. Thank you for tremendous support. You know who you are. around 10.30 pm I vividly remember I requested to walk to bath room because I want to pee. And little did we know, I was not that strong, maybe I only walked 2-3 steps and suddenly I dont remember anything. ALL BLACK! That moment I heard a beautiful beautiful choir sing, that was the most beautiful voice I ever heard in my life. My pain also suddenly gone. My body also change from cold to warm and so peaceful. But I heard voice that Im so familiar far far away . It's Danang's voice screaming "Beb.. Bebb.." and I suddenly opened my eyes, and I heard everyone in that room shouting my name and trying to wake me up . My sister keep said to me "please dont close your eyes please stay with me" The nurse came and gave me help to stabilize my condition. Together everyone on that room praying for me And the hospital team rushing me to Operation table. That very moment I realized that maybe this could be my last time seeing my husband, my sister Rina and all of my family and friends. I do remember my husband whispering to me before I go alone to operation table "I love you no matter what happened" I drop my tears silently Thanking God that He gave me the best husband. Not trying to be exagerrated! But that's the real condition at that time. When they pushed me to operation table all I heard all the nurse just said "Ibu berdoa yaa, Ibu doa Tuhan bantu operasi Ibu" and after that I dont remember anything The doctor said the operation should be finish in 1 hour. Approx around 12.00 am When I opened my eyes. I saw clock around 2.30am I realizing wooo the surgery took so long. Later, the team told me that when the doctor make an incision, all they saw only pool of blood. The internal bleeding already spread , thats why the operation took 3.5 hours. I lost some amount of bloods They did gave me around 3Litre of blood tranfusion. Outside the operation room, Danang and Rina waiting for news from the doctor. They said they really so stressful . Thank you again both of you for taking care of me When I saw Danang again I cant stop crying and grateful that God give me another chance . On friday morning, my parents came from Semarang, they planned to come on friday morning, because my original surgery plan was on friday afternoon. My heart fulls of joy when I still can see them.. Now I'm still in recovery process. Praying for speed recovery.. I will update you later about the recovery progress.. When God brings you to the way that you dont understand, obey it! It's not easy, because the way you want always looks so fun and easy to go through. Never Give Up, because it's just not good Idea. It's God's idea Thank you God Almighty Danang Condrokusumo Papa Mama Ci Hanna Carol Rina & Nigel Kay, Jo , Summer, April Diora, Jac, Jul ci Wenny San san Kinsky - Joe Kenny Nefi - Ery Kak Dibbie - Hendrik dan yang tidak bisa saya sebut one by one WHAT IS ECTOPIC PREGNANCY a short brief this is the condition where fetus implanted not in the uterus but in the fallopian tube or ovary THIS IS NOT BLIGHTED OVUM, MISCARRIAGE Condition this condition is dangerous life threatening. Because anytime the tube can ruptured and cause internal bleeding and infection Sadly, for now there is no medical technology to move an ectopic pregnancy to uterus Why I wrote this, because I just want to raise awareness of this condition, since I've been there and let me tell you straight away the pain is agony and excruciating . When you have this condition the only way is to do surgery to save your life. Dont risk your life! Go straight to doctor or hospital The sign are different every other person - Pain on one side of your body - The pain is unbearable - Vaginal bleeding - The beta HCG blood test not doubling as it is ( exception in my case) - The USG can see it clearly it's outside your uterus

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cyclinglegs · 7 years

Text

I’ve doe it, after years of thinking about it, and talking about it, I’ve finally bitten the bullet. I’ve signed up for a French cyclotour in June with local outfit Unique Cycling Tours

I don’t think I’ve quite gotten my head around it yet, but having the opportunity to ride some of the climbs we see on TV is mind blowing. How about these apples.

MONT VENTOUX

ALPE D’HUEZ

COL DU GLANDON

CROIX DE FER

TELEGRAPHE

GALIBIER.

http://www.uniquecyclingtours.com/provence-and-french-alps/

There’s still some available spots if you’re interested.

Indian Pacific Wheel Race

They got off to a flying start on Saturday morning over in Freo, and as I sit here on Tuesday evening, there are 10 riders already in South Australia. The front runner Kristof Allagaert is setting an incredible pace, having ridden 1,829km since Saturday morning. Thats something like 82 hours somewhere around the 22 km/hr, thats not even allowing for any stoppage. Incredible stuff.

One of brilliant features of this race is the use and spread of social media covering this race. The event organiser , Jesse Carlsson, who unfortunately had to withdraw from the race on Sunday, in partnership with some prominent players in Aistralia including Cycling Tips and Curve Cycling, have been huge supports of social media around this event. Some of the features include:

Rider tracking – you can sit at your phone and watch the riders track across Australia, live. I’m not sure of the accuracy, but the tracking shows the riders barely metres apart, all withing the “No-Drafting” rules of course, incing their way across Australia. You can see when they stop, where they stop, and who’s sleeping with who. Have a look here. Indian Pacific Wheel Race Map Progress

Status Updates – Regular updates and photos on the IPWR Facebook Site Facebook – IndianPacificWheelRace

Rider interviews – Regular spot interviews by IPWR on their Facebook site. This feature really brings to the fore the character of the riders, their humor, the trials and tribulations as the days slowly go by.

And then there’s this one from South Australian Davin Harding. His character and dry wit shine through.

Rider Facebook and Instagram sites. Riders are regularly posting either themselves when they get a chance or have a support team posting on their behalf.

James Raison

Mike Hall

Kristof Allegaert

Sarah Hammond

Jackie Bernardi

The rider social edia sites can be accessed through the rider profile on the tracking tool. Click on the rider name and the profile will pop up, giving sponsor names, social media addresses etc

Rider Sponsor Facebook and Instagram updates such as

Curve Cycling

Sportful

Rapha

Ben Rides

Apologise for the many I’ve missed.

It would be good to see mainstream media get behind these hard core athletes, the nation needs to see what these guys are doing.

And us, we should be doing everything we can to support the riders as they pass through our hometown, so track them as they come in and get out there and give them some moral support.

3 Peaks

Funny thing about the Peaks Challenge Falls Creek. After the months and months of training (remembering i only went for the weekend, i didn’t ride the bloody thing), planning, donuts, coffee and the like, the weekend went by so bloody quickly it almost feels as if it didn’t happen. But happen it did. Its an extraordinary weekend, a lads weekend away, but when you peel away the layers, its much much more. Each rider taking part has a books worth of stories in their personal struggles to get to the line, let alone ride it.

I mentioned a few posts back a gentlemen called Paul, a strong rider who last year was found bent over his bike with 2 km’s to go, suffering stroke like symptoms and unable to finish. Unfortunately, and fortunately at the same time, he recognised the same symptoms again and chose to withdraw from the ride. Sorry to hear this news Paul, but very glad you made the right decision.

I’ve been to Falls Creek 5 times now, helped with the training for each, and am happy to report that of the 25 attempts over these 5 years, attempts where the rider actually crossed the start line, we’ve had 25 completions. There were some doubts we would achieve that, particularly as there was doubt over JK’s hamstring, something he tore about 5 weeks out, something which curtailed an already compromised training program. Bugger us all, he did it. This guy has an unbelievable ability to push through the mental barriers and finish against the odds.

Sitting back as a casual observer for the 3rd time this year, I was ecstatic not only seeing each of the riders in our group cross the line, but standing down at the finish line the emotions etched across the faces of each and every rider crossing the line gave only a hint if what was going through their minds, but I felt an outsider walking through finishers on the other side of the line. The looks of euphoria, pain banished, exultation, relief, disbelief scrawled across the faces was something to behold. That was an extraordinarily hard ride to finish. I rode down to Anglers rest with a mate on the Saturday. I’d forgotten how painful that ride back up is. My mate was tackling it for the first time. He’s in awe of the 3peakers finishing that ride with 200km in their legs. Same here. Well done to all who completed.

On a finishing note, a couple of successes at both ends of the spectrum.

John C was a welcome blow-in to the group, a friends friend who had set himself a sub-9 target. JC had put the training in and was confident, but also very focused, quiet and a little withdrawn. JC rode a sub 9 ride and was understandably wrapped with the result. At dinner on Sunday night we almost couldn’t shut him up. Well done JC.

At the other end, Hack, who similarly came in as a friend of a friend last year but with an interrupted training regime last year, came in this year with with a few more laps under the belt, hit WTF approx before the cutoff time, beat the Trap Yard gate closure, but struggled across the top, ended up with flat batteries on his from light, and ended up getting the support of a motorcycled marshal who shone his headlights in front of Hack and another rider to help them cross the line, albeit after the 13 hour cutoff. Suffering hypothermia, Hack was taken to the medical centre for an hour or so before being released. He ended up crossing the apartments threshold to the supporting appreciative roar of our group, wide smile on his dial, pretty much summed up the weekend.

Well done all, it was a pleasure to spend the weekend with you.

A few pictures from my trip below.

Sagan has ridden La Classicissima 7 times now, with two seconds, and two fourths. Saturday was his 78th second place of his career. Imagine if just a few of those had been victories

Lakes Cycling Shoes – Lake MX 237

Before Christmas i bought a pair of Lake MTB 237 shoes, the old road shoes were falling apart, and to be honest, I was looking at buying some cx/mt shoes for my gravel road riding, and the occasional possible cross race (tbc), and the thought of buying 2 pairs of shoes wasn’t sitting well. I wanted some decent shoes, but didn’t want to spend a bucket load on 2 pairs.

After much deliberation, i decided to buy the one pair, a good pair, and not really worrying about riding road with mountain bike shoes. Yes they are a little heavier, but hey, I’m 50+ years old, so a few extra grams at the bottom end of town wont hurt that much. On the upside, i dont have to worry about slipping over on those bloody slippery cleats whilst walking back to the table with a cuppa in each hand.

So, i bis pretty much the same as the CX 237 road shoe, but comes in a MTB package. Carbon sole, full leather upper and double boa fastening system. My first in all 3 categories.

Apart from the looks, the feature that grabbed me initially was their reputation for being wider than usual, and trying them on certainly didn’t disappoint.

The Boa fastening system provided comfortable but firm tightening across the top of the foot which steps up the control of the tightening that you just don’t quite get with my old ratchet and velcro fasteners.

Out on the road, it took a while to get used t the new fit. The first three to four 4 hour+ rides had me finishing up with a numbing left foot. I couldn’t quite figure it out, and it got a little disturbing for a while there, but the numbing on the longer rides eventually disappeared.

Those longer rides were during some of the hotter days, and invariably I’d turn up at home soaked in sweat and salt encrusted kit. Taking the shoes off after these sweat fests would show black staining from the black leather. A little bit disturbing, however not permanent, the stains came out in the wash and after a while, the staining stopped happening.

Once the numbing stopped, I came to admire the shoes, they are nice and stiff when i needed them to be, but super comfortable due to their width, inside fit and the nice smooooooth supple leather. They now fit like a pair of old gloves, i hardly notice them any more, which can only be a good thing. It’s probably not surprising that I didn’t notice them at all when riding up the back of falls/WTF a few weekends back.

The upshot is that I found them well suited to flat and hilly rides either on the road and gravel. I haven’t tried them in a cx race yet, but i haven’t found any reason why they wouldnt suit. The carbon sole gives these shoes excellent power transfer characteristics, with a stiff feeling under even the hardest out-of-the-saddle pedaling efforts like WTF, whilst still maintaining a good amount of flex when off the bike walking around holding onto those coffees.

The rubber MTB sole is strong and looks like it will take a lot of punishment, providing plenty of clearance for those trail riding days.

All up, I would highly recommend you have a close look at the Lake shoes next time you are looking at replacing or upgrading. I’m glad i spent the little extra on some decent shoes, and also happy i chose the MTB sole, although I’m sure there would be many roadies out there that would be frowning on my choice, but hey, I just enjoy being out in the great outdoors.

Oh, I bought these shoes at the Bike Bug in Stepney, what is rapidly becoming one of my favourite lbs’s. https://www.bikebug.com/index.php

Milan San Remo

A classic finish to this years Milan San Remo with Peter Sagan showing that he’s was the strongest rider of the day, jumping out with around a km to go, but Michal Kwiatkowski showed on the day he was a little smarter than Peter Sagan.

A brilliant finish right down to the line.

In his seventh attempt at La Classicissima, Sagan has finished second twice, and fourth twice. Sagan’s race statistics show he has ridden 558 races, won 92 races and finished on the podium 204 times. Saturday was his 78th second place of his career.

Rider of the Week – Lorne McLurg

Thats Lorne, bottom left

Lorne is a first generation Australian of Irish parents. Eldest of three children, he was born in 1971 and raised in Adelaide. He has lived and worked interstate and overseas for a few years before returning to settle down. He is married, with 3 primary school aged kids. Lorne completed an Arts degree in Geography, that never got any serious use other than in games of Trivial Pursuit.

Now, he jointly owns a Project Management Consulting business, Moto Projects, focused on larger commercial, retail and high rise residential construction projects.

Lornes first career beyond trivial pursuit was as an outdoor adventure guide, but realized the lifestyle, although fit, fun and challenging, had its limitations…mostly fiscal. He gave that away as a full time professional endeavor after 7 years and phased across into a second career as a full-time project manager.

Lorne has been riding bikes for as long as he can remember. He was one of the founding members of the FRA PowerOn team in early 2003 and has been riding ‘pretty’ consistently 2-4 times a week with the mob since then.

I can’t see myself ever stopping riding for any reason other than obviously, life and death ones! Not known for my hill climbing capability, but more so for my love of descending…. the real reason for why we climb the hills in the first place!!

How long have you been cycling?

About 44 years…. Got a trike when I was about 2 then my first real bike…a yellow dragster…when I was about 5. Not stopped riding since then.

Was a BMX bandit in the late 70’s & 80’s, as a founding member (with my siblings) of the Tea Tree Gully BMX club, raced every week from the age of 10 til about 16.

Tea Tree Gully BMX Facebook site

I discovered road bikes when I was 14 for fitness and commuting to school, then Uni and work. Got into Mountain biking after a trip to the USA in 1992 and a chance to ride the famous Slick Rock trail amongst others around Moab and the Colorado Rockies.

I got back into regular Road biking when I moved home to Adelaide in 1996 and have been riding around the beaches and hills 2-4 times a week since then.

What got you started in cycling?

Father Christmas and from there the love of the wind in my face and the freedom to cover distance and see beautiful places under my own steam and at my own pace

How many bikes do you own and what is your main go to bike?

3, a new Canyon Ultimate SLX 9.0 purchased in Feb 2017 is the go to at the moment. I have a Specialized SWorks Tarmac SL4 currently having some carbon repairs done on it and a Specialized Crave SL 29er MTB (Single Speed) that is my go to for rides with the kids and when the weather is crap.

What bike do you covet?

I’ve been lucky enough recently to build up the bike of my dreams. The Canyon with SRAM Etap, Zipp 303 NSW’s, Garmin Edge 820 is about as good as it gets I think.

How do you store your bikes?

Mostly in the house. The MTB lives in the shed with the wife and kids bikes and the roadies live in the house where I can get at them easily for the early morning before work rides!

Do you do all your own maintenance or do you use a LBS? If so, which one?

I do most of my own simple stuff, but when time is limited or it’s a bit trickier then Anthony Mezzini at Elbows Akimbo or Pete at BMC are my go to gurus.

What cycling specific tools do you have in your “bike shed”?

I’ve accumulated lots of little gadgets over the years. My favorites currently are my ParkTools torque driver and ParkTools workstand.

What is your favourite piece of cycling kit or accessory?

My Garmin 820. Love how it uploads straight to Strava and does live segments to help keep me honest….and my new bright blue Shimano Sphyre RC9 shoes.

What do you love about cycling?

The camaraderie of cycling with my bunch. Politically incorrect banter and the gentle push to ride more and faster, that comes with riding with a bunch of mates… that and the beer! Ride Bikes, Drink Beer, PowerOn being one of our motto’s

What annoys most about cycling?

Idiot riders who don’t show simple understanding and respect to other road users, who antagonize drivers, chase fame through social media and thus give all cyclists a bad name. It shouldn’t be that hard to ‘treat others as you want them to treat you’

Other than yourself, who is your favourite cyclist?

Peter Sagan…he’s the all-round cyclist.

If you could have dinner with 3 people in the cycling world, who would they be and why?

With a biased agenda, because I have a strong and independent daughter who I want to see having access to equal and sustainable opportunity and income – Rochelle Gilmore to discuss the challenges and opportunities in Women’s cycling and strategize how to raise it to par with the men’s league, Rob Arnold to further the discussion on how to raise women’s cycling to par with the men’s league on the basis that it’s all in the media power to do so, and Nick Green to discuss the role Australia’s peak body needs to play in developing and supporting cycling and in particular Women’s Cycling.

Where would you take them to eat?

Chianti Classico – Can’t go past a good feed of Rabbit

What are your craziest/fondest cycling memories?

Riding the burbs for hours on end with my BMX bandit mates, jumping and skidding our way down the streets and through the parks and creek reserves, getting muddy, scraped and bruised, every weekend and loving it!

Have you had any nasty crashes? If so how did the worst occur and what was the consequence?

Had my fair share. Too many to remember them all. Used to average one car hit a month when I was a bike commuter in London in the mid 90’s. Most recent nasty was being hit from behind at the finish line of a Vets Crit, by some numpty who had their head down sprinting for 20th. I hit the pavement at about 45Kph and busted 3 ribs and punctured a lung. Put me off the bike for 6 weeks.

What is your favourite post ride coffee/tea spot, and what would you normally buy as a treat?

Cibo King William Road – Been going there since it opened. Grande Flat White being my usual. Sometimes accompanied by a piece of Banana Bread….not that my gut needs it!

Do you have a favourite overseas country in mind you’d love to take your bike to?

Would love to take the Roadie and MTB back to France. Did a lot of snowboarding, rock-climbing and mountaineering there, but didn’t have the space to take the bike so would love to go back just to ride. Such awesome terrain to adventure in and the descents…breathtaking for someone like me who loves going down.

What is your favourite local training route?

Windy point to Belair, then up through the National Park via Saddle Hill Rd and on up to Crafers and back into town via the old freeway. A perfect 1.5 hr outing for me and can be done before work and herding children begins in the morning.

What is the biggest cycling lie you have told a partner?

Probably the same one’s we all try to get away with…I’ve had that ‘new piece of kit’ for ages!

What cycling related thing would you like for your next birthday?

More dope socks as I need to keep on top of my games in that department.

Is there a local cycling outfit/company/cycling club/cycling group/person that you would like to plug?

Elbows Akimbo. Anthony is a very thorough bike fitter and mechanic and generously supports our team.

Do yourself a favour and get a bike fit from him. Amazing how it can help your comfort and power

From a non-cycling perspective, what do you love about Adelaide?

I love the small city / big Country town environment. Its something we need to learn to celebrate and not condemn. Having lived and visited many cities around the world, I know we have it good here. Naysayers should try living the same lifestyle they enjoy here in Europe or Asia…unless you have a few $Mill a year in income, you’ll be very sadly disappointed.

What is your go to place when interstaters come to Adelaide?

I think the go to ride for visitors to Adelaide has to be Old freeway, over Lofty, across through Uraidla to Deviation Rd, back along Loby Rd to Basket Range, Ashton then across to Marble Hill and down Montacute and back to the city for Coffee in Vardon Place.

Is there anything else you feel like talking about?

I think I’ll have bored everyone enough by now!

Not all all Lorne, a pleasure to hear from you, love the early day BMX bandit storys, although I can’t quite get the image of you with Nicole Kidman style hair out of my head.

Till next time

tight spokes

iPib

Race Across Australia – IPWR I've doe it, after years of thinking about it, and talking about it, I've finally bitten the bullet.

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