#i’m just fine with bleak and depressing shit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oh-styles · 4 years

Text

Something About a Beginning: Part II

First off, I want to thank each and every one of you for your immense patience. (More so than others, but I digress.) Writing on such topics when you yourself aren’t in the most healthiest mentality is a struggle alone, but we got here.

Second off, if you haven’t read the first part, you can so here. These chapters implicate bouts of depression and talks of miscarriage, so read at your own will.

I do want to note that I mention Robin in this story, and I was hesitant to include him because I felt it wasn’t appropriate, because he shouldn’t be used as entertainment purposes (i.e. in stories) but I mention him only with love and respect.

Again, thank you for your patience, and happy reading.

July 3, 2019 London, England

Harry lost his girl.

She vanished in the night – gone with the wind – and all that remained was a ghost of a woman, transparent and bleak. He hasn’t seen her smile since that night, coming close to a week now, and his gut retches at the thought he might never get his girl back.

She’s buried herself in the sheets; the window is opened a crack, and he spots an empty bottle of melatonin laying overturned on her bedside table. He stares intently at her body, watching as the sheets rise and fall to the pattern of her placid breathing, and he thinks for a moment that she’s finally found herself a better place. Not dead—not by any means. Whatever dream world she has found herself delved in, he knows she might have found a sliver of peace there, hopefully smiling.

“She’s sleeping, mum.” Harry says into his phone, taking a step back to gently close the bedroom door. “Rande and Cindy invited us to Muskoka but…” His words hung in the air, like the elephant in the room, but his mother knew all too well what was lingering on the precipice of her sons’ tongue.

But she’s too depressed.

But she can’t go a day without crying.

But I don’t think she has the energy to leave the house.

It’s been four days since the attack, and Harry hasn’t seen her take a step outside of their bedroom.

“Love, she’s wasting away in there. It might help her a little to get out, get some sun…”

“Mum, I can’t even get her to sit in the fucking garden.” He can hear his mother’s nettled sigh on the other end of the line, but how can anyone expect him to put her on a mother fucking airplane if she can’t even bother to walk the 30 meters to the fucking garden? “The sodding paps were outside the house last night.”

“They can’t—”

“I’m aware.” He begins to descend his way down the stairs, stopping to peer out from the front window – an old, worn out habit. “I think it’s best we get away for a bit. The story hasn’t died down… I think it’ll help—getting away. They won’t bother us there.”

Harry knew your answer before he even had the chance to ask; he knew he was wasting his time in even suggesting such a thing, but the guilt would eat away at him if he didn’t even try.

“Muskoka…Canada, remember? We went there last year.” He sat at the edge of the bed, running a hand over the sheets where a peek of your shoulder laid exposed. “It’ll be quiet. Nobody there to bug us. If you want to just hang out in the hotel room the whole time, I’d be fine with that. It’s just…”

I can’t stand to see you burrowed away another day.

“I’m really worried about you… I’m just trying to help.” He was powerless, and he knew it. He couldn’t take her by the arm and force her on a plane, but god forbid he try his damned hardest. “No paps, nobody. I promise. I wouldn’t take you there if it wasn’t safe.”

He feels a stir beneath him, and from underneath the covers, a small hand inches outward and lays upward, a silent plea for intimacy—a piece of familiarity he hasn’t touched in days. He reaches out and clasps her hand in his, and readjusts himself to lay beside her.

“You can think about it. I don’t need an answer this second, but give it a day or two, okay?”

He sees her nod, and her eyes blink open to meet his, only for a second, before they are closed once again for the remainder of the night.

July 6, 2019 Ontario, Canada

Muskoka came and went. Nothing advantageous to really capture your attention, though you kept your head nestled low in a book for most of your stay. You tossed a couple Stephen King novels into your bags without much thought, and by the time your trip was coming to an end, you had already completed one and started another.

A photo made its rounds online of you at dinner with Harry, Rande and Cindy, and even thinking back to that night, you couldn’t recount a time where you felt a pair of eyes boring at your table. You think it might be because you paid more attention to the drink menu than your friends, but you digressed. They only saw the back of your head, and not even the photographer mentioned you. You were also mistaken for Kaia on a couple occasions.

After Muskoka, you were back in London, and not much later Harry would be jetting off to Italy for Google Camp, and a few days after that, he was set to fly to Mexico for a video shoot. He was redundant to go, and even called Jeff to see if they could reschedule, but that would cause a delay for the next video they’d film only a week later. He asked if you wanted to join him, and you kindly declined. You were much aware of his past video sets, and how common it was to see photos and videos leaked online, and you were far from interested to be included.

You were much happier to find yourself under the watchful eyes of Anne Twist.

“I can meet you in Scotland if I’m feeling up to it.” You knew it was a scorching lie crawling right off your tongue, but if it meant he carried some hope with him, then you would feed him whatever white lies you could muster. Even Anne knew better than to believe you.

“I think Canada was good for you, love, but you need some rest, too. Can’t be travelling all over the bloody world, now, can you?”

It was a nice feeling to know she had your back.

In another life would a little green monster be envious of missing such a trip to Cancun, but the only desires you had were sitting in Anne’s garden being force fed a steady cup a tea and a plate of biscuits.

Anne didn’t pry; she knew well what you needed, but she would be keeping her sons promise on keeping you safe, and she knew there was no safer place for you to be.

It was August now, and the heat felt suffocating. You and Anne spent your mornings walking to the bakery her son once worked in, grabbing a quick breakfast before heading to the park. You would pick off pieces of your croissant and toss it at the squirrels, but you almost always scared them off. Anne told stories of when Harry was a child, and how he once tried to tell her Gemma was a drug dealer.

“She was only a child,” she hummed, laughing into her coffee. “But he was always a character to have around.”

“I feel like…between you and me, right?” You could hear in the distance the sound of a goose honking and a group of children wailing, running away. “I just…don’t want to upset him.”

Anne reached over and took your hand in hers. “Anything you say is always safe with me, love.”

“I’m mad he left me here.” There was a short beat, but you could feel your throat close, and that anger begin to well up in your chest. “This…this is also…”

“I know, love.” She scooted closer, squeezing your hand. “Everyone has their own ways of dealing with grief. Harry isn’t good at sitting around… Even when Robin passed, he didn’t like to sit. He needed to go do something.”

You remember, and yet you still recall him lying on his mother’s couch in tears. You don’t think he’s cried since the two of you left the hospital a couple weeks ago.

“He loves you, darling. He calls me every day to check in on you. Don’t think for a second he doesn’t care.”

Even with her words, you felt something was missing.

Harry was only in Scotland for a couple days before he was finally home, but it wouldn’t be long before he would be venturing off to Italy – again – for another work-related conquest. You weren’t sure why he was so content with country hopping every couple of weeks instead of resting at home with you, but you didn’t bother bludgeoning him with questions.

“After I’m through with Italy—I won’t even be there a day—I’ll be back home, but a couple weeks later, I have to go to LA for some meetings… I’d like you to come, if that’s okay.”

Again. There’s always something. It must be so fucking difficult to stay in one place for more than a couple weeks with your grieving girlfriend.

“Also…I was meaning to ask you. Ariana is in town in a few days… Wanted to know if you wanted to come with me and the guys… I think it’ll be fun.”

“Your child died a month ago and you want to go to a fucking Ariana Grande concert.” The words fell helplessly from you, but it was weeks of anguish and neglect that hit its final tier, and you were quite tired of hanging on. “Tell me….how does that make sense to you?”

“Excuse me?” For the first time that night, he looked at you. All before, he found excuses to shift his glances to anything but you, maybe in fear of reality finally hitting him in the face with what he’s been running from for weeks, but for the first time that night, he bared his eyes down at you, and his mouth fell open.

“I’m sorry—have I been hallucinating you just picking your shit up and leaving every chance you get?”

“I’ve had work—” He took to his feet, swiftly flinging his hand out to close the lid of his luggage.

“Any normal person—I swear, any normal person would stay home, and fucking grieve, except you, who wants to fucking fly everywhere and work, because that would require facing his fucking prob—”

“I have a job—I know it’s hard for you to relate to that, but I have commitments—”

“And what am I then? If not a commitment, then what, Harry?”

“You are a commitment—”

“Then where have you been? Why have I been staying with your mother? I know you invited me to go with you, but I shouldn’t have to. I’m fucking hurting, Harry! I don’t want to go to Cancun and Italy—I want to be here with you. Do you know how fucking hard it’s been dealing with this without you here?”

For once, he was silent, but he shifted on his feet.

“You haven’t cried. Not since the hospital. I can’t count how many times I’ve cried, and you sit around texting your band or going to video shoots… If you feel nothing—no grief or anything…if you didn’t even want the baby, just tell me. Make this easier on me, please.”

“How the fuck can you say that I didn’t want the baby? My heart is fucking hurt!”

“Then act like it!”

“You really think I can sit around every day and watch you fall apart? I have to be the strong one… If it can’t be you, then it has to be me, and I don’t like watching you hurt.”

“You know…you sometimes have a really shitty way showing people you care about them.”

You stood there, arms folded in resistance, and he couldn’t take his eyes from off the floor. He felt cornered, and he was defenseless with nothing else left to give. His bags still laid on the bed, clothes scattered over the sheets ready to be put up, and you knew this room was no place for you. Your purse was downstairs, and your phone in your pocket.

“I’m going to stay with Gemma tonight. I’ll have her pick me up. Please don’t follow me out.”

She’s always been the quiet one.

The first time she met you, at a family gathering you were reluctant to attend despite the persistent reassurance from your other half, she knew from the moment she saw you that you were different from all the others. You held yourself different, much shorter, like you knew you could never become the center of attention.

You studied the room, holding onto Harry’s hand as he introduced you to his mother, and that’s when Gemma appeared from over her mother’s shoulder.

“About time I meet you,” she chuckled, reaching her hand out. “I’m Gemma.”

She watches you now from the edge of the driveway, sitting on the steps of the porch with only the light above you illuminating your surroundings. From behind you, she spotted the silhouette of her brother peeking through the curtains, keeping a close eye for just in case.

Your track record wasn’t a good one.

As she approaches, you perk your head up with a sigh of relief. For the first time, she was the Styles you nothing but needed.

“Come on, Magoo,” she chirps as she finally reaches you, lifting her hand out for you to take. “We can hit the McDonald’s drive-thru.”

Laura Nyro played over her car stereo, a melodious tune you recall hearing once before on a long drive in Cheshire. You shut your eyes, and the memory floods you like a storm, like a stampede parading across your chest, and you lean over to rest your head on the window.

Gemma reached her hand over to find yours, giving it three squeezes of solace.

I. Love. You.

The cut that was tucked away in your hairline was in its last stages of healing, and a scar would most certainly take its place. You always felt the erratic throbbing, like a little reminder that no matter how far you run, your problems will always be chasing you like the devil.

“Did I make a mistake?”

Gemma turned her attention from the road, lifting your hand up with hers, and planting a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“No, Magoo. I’m sorry to tell you, but you’re dating a dumbass.” She heard a muted hum in response. “Nobody is perfect… Not even that shithead. I can see where he thought what he was doing was okay, because he was sacrificing his feelings for you, but… that’s just not how you do it.”

You could drink to that.

Gemma spotted the golden arches and took a left at the light. “I’m glad you texted me… Haven’t had a bloody girl’s night in ages. It sucks under the circumstances but…” She turned back to you with a wink. “I’ll take what I can get.”

On the journey back to her flat, you pleasantly sipped at your chocolate milkshake and tapped your feet to the music, and even sporadically hummed along to the few chords you knew. It really didn’t take much to please you.

Gemma was never gifted a sister as a child. Though, she did want one, and was thoroughly distraught when her mother brought home a brother all those years ago, she did grow accustomed and grew to love the curly haired boy who she would then share with the world. But the girl beside her, who slurped her drink and choked behind a laugh of a joke about a time traveler who walks into a bar, had burrowed herself deep within her heart, much like she does with any counterpart she meets.

It’s incredibly difficult not to meet this girl and not hold some sort of placement in her life. Her heart is massive, but the love she radiates is gracious and touches anyone who dares get too close.

And the love Gemma has for her is just as the same.

Michal was asleep when the two of you arrived; you knew your way around, and confidently walked to the spare room down the hall, last door on the right. Gemma trailed behind you, holding your milkshake as you flipped on the light, and kicked off your shoes.

Olivia was already sprawled out over the comforter.

“Could you stay with me, tonight?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice, babe.” Gemma smirked, setting your drink down on the bedside table. “Have you ate?”

You shook your head, even trying to recall if you had mustered an appetite to have some breakfast, but even then you think you took a couple bites out of an apple and forgot about it.

“I’ll make you something—actually, Michal and I have spinach ravioli left over… Want me to heat some of that up for you?”

You graciously nodded. “You’re too good for me.”

“I just love you is all.”

The next morning, the spot beside you was visibly vacant, and from down the hall you could vaguely hear a low, sullen voice talking over the sound of the television. Gemma fired back in response, and from your feet, Olivia peeked her head from the covers, turning towards the disrupting noise.

“Let her sleep—she’s exhausted—”

“Just give me five bloody minutes!”

You knew any chance of sleep you wish you had was far gone.

“I’m up—just fucking talk!” You hollered into your pillow, your eyes still adjusting to the sunlight cascading into the room. You could guess it wasn’t any later than nine that morning, and before you had a moment to check, his unquestionable footsteps neared your door, and you heard a light tap. “I’m obviously awake.”

After you walked out the night before, he ignored your wishes and followed you downstairs where the shortest reaction he got from you was the front door slamming in his face.

“Can I talk?”

I don’t know, can you?

“You literally came here and woke me up from some incredible sleep, mind you, and you’re asking me if you can talk.” He was in a blind panic and darted his eyes around the room. “Well, talk.”

“I’m a fucking twat, I know this. It’s inexcusable what I did—what I put you through—it was selfish—I’m so fucking selfish—I can’t fucking deal with this kind of stuff, and I’m a bloody twat for leaving you because I can’t handle it. It’s cowar—I’m a coward! I can’t face shit—and I love you so much, and I left you… I’m so sorry, please believe me. I’m such a twat—"

“Shut up, please—you’re giving me a migraine.” You held up a single finger as you adjusted yourself in bed. “Look, I don’t even know how early it is, and you know how much I hate mornings.”

“I know, but…I didn’t want to wait until the afternoon to talk to you.”

“That’s fair.”

“It’s 10:30 by the way.”

“Did you practice that speech in your car, or did you just wing it?”

While you were in bed with Gemma, watching King of the Hill on her iPad, Harry resided to his office where he spent much of the evening hunched over his journal, scrawling out endless messages to you about how much of a wanker he is, and by the time the sun began to rise, he had his eyes in his hand and began waiting for an appropriate time to come and see you.

“I…thought a little bit about it, yeah.”

“You really hurt me, alright? It’s not something I can just forget because you said you were sorry. When I needed you the most, you weren’t there. What kind of partner is that?” He stood silent in his spot; his hands dug deep into his trousers. Suddenly, he was a little boy again getting scolded by his mother. “I had your mom, I had Gemma, but not you. The only person I needed. I get this wasn’t part of the plan, and we got our hearts broken, but that doesn’t give you the right to run off because you can’t handle seeing me upset.”

Olivia stretched her limbs out over the covers, purring against the sheets.

“I appreciate you coming, I really do. This isn’t something I can just forget and move on from. I want to work on this, but it’s going to take time… I still love you though.”

September 19, 2019 Los Angeles, California

“Your shirt looks like amebae under a microscope.”

He stifled a grunt, looking down at his shirt with concentration, and every so subtly did you see him glance swiftly at the bathroom mirror. “I’m surprised you even know what ameba are.”

“Or it looks like those eye floaties you get, but…colorful, you know?”

“Will you stop bullying me?”

“Only when you tell me how much you paid for that shirt.”

For a second, and you saw it flash through his eyes, he considered telling you, but figured that was a fight for a different afternoon. His silence was all the answer you needed. You nodded and left the room.

He found himself eminently lucky that you even agreed to accompany him to Los Angeles, but it was under the one condition that he takes you to In-N-Out whenever you oh so politely asked. Though, after you harassed him over his attire that morning, he was undecided to change his mind.

He didn’t.

You did, however, apologize and say he looked like a sexy ameba, and he then locked you out of the car for five minutes.

To be fair, you only accepted his offer to travel with him because you missed your friends, and they were the one thing that remained untouched from the summer. You felt the emptiness being carried with you with every passing day, and all the books and websites said that was normal, but finding distractions and hobbies to pass the time was coming close to becoming a sport – way too laborious for you.

You even found yourself searching “Losing interest in things I used to like” and you were considerably shocked to discover the rabbit hole Google led you down.

You didn’t consider yourself depressed, not by any means. Sure, you were sad most of the day, you never really gained your appetite back, you stopped painting and watching King of the Hill and Breaking Bad, and if you didn’t spend the entire day sleeping, you would lay in bed with your eyes closed, praying you would eventually grow tired enough to slip away for a little while.

Harry even signed you both up for couple’s therapy.

“This is for people who cheated on each other and refuse to break up!”

But regardless of your inherent fussing, he refused to back down. Where the two of you stood mentally, this was your last chance at redemption, and he wasn’t letting you back out. The way he saw it, if you didn’t make an effort to try and fix what was broken, there was no hope for the relationship moving forward.

That was when you realized the outcome was more than just losing your baby.

After the first session, you made an appointment with your physician, who later prescribed not only you with anti-depressants, but Harry as well. Your world was spinning madly, in every which direction, but at least you had your boy holding on madly with you.

The first time you encountered a fan since the summer happened on that very first outing in Los Angeles when you and Harry were arriving for your lunch plans. (Not In-N-Out, but you let it go.) If it had been solely one girl, you trust that you could easily fight her off if given the opportunity. I mean, sure, you didn’t fight off that other girl, but she had the upper hand, or so you tell yourself.

But, no, she was with a group, and you felt the urge to vomit.

“I’m going to throw up—” You propel yourself in the other direction, ready to sprint back to the parking lot, and thinking back on it now, you can’t even remember the last time you even sprinted. “Let me sit in the car—let’s get the food to go—I don’t care—”

This is why we should have fucking gone to In-N-Out.

“Pet—you can’t run forever, okay? I know it’s fucking scary, but you have to face this one day.” You remember the exact quote Harry was reciting from the therapist, just with less profanity. “I won’t let them do shit, alright?”

They did stop him, of course, and you took a few steps away so they could have their moment, but you made sure he was still an arm grab away incase—

“Hey,” You had disregarded the voice, opening a game on your phone – Numberzilla – before you registered someone had spoken to you. “I’m sorry to bother you…”

At first glance, you could easily discern she was unsure of herself. She likely had a rush of confidence, and now standing blankly in front of you, she has lost all certainty. From behind, you peered up to find Harry staring at the back of her head, already inching into his pocket for his keys.

“Oh,” you gulp, clutching your phone in your hands. “Hi…”

“I just…was just hoping that you were doing okay.”

Doing okay, because of—

Your heart thudded to a stop.

“You alright?” Harry was at your side, and the young girl took a step back.

“Sorry—I’m sorry.” She gave a weak smile. “I just wish the best for you two.”

She was already walking off when you mustered up the words to thank her, but you were doubtful she heard you. Harry’s arm was in a tight grip around your backside, with his keys hung in his hand, ready to run.

The two of you cancelled your lunch plans and hit In-N-Out instead.

September 24, 2019 Los Angeles, California

“Is it okay?”

It was a Tuesday; you had a clear agenda for the day, and it was a little after lunch that you found yourself aimlessly clicking through channels, with your boyfriend sitting down by your feet, flipping through the pages of your current read.

You had felt the undeniable ache since the night before, and you thought maybe if you just ignore it, it’ll go away, but it only lingered, taunting you with its insatiable lust.

The itch you don’t want to scratch.

Your heart was racing, your palms were sweaty, and it didn’t matter how tightly you squeezed your legs together, nothing could rid you of this.

“H,” You poked his leg with your toe. “Bear with me on this, okay?” He didn’t respond, but he carefully set your book back down on the coffee table. “Will you have sex with me real quick?”

“I…you want to?”

“Do you have condoms? Because if not, I can take care of this myself—”

“Yes, yes, I have them. I have—they’re upstairs.”

And there you were, minutes later, his cock was inside of you, and he slowly rolled his hips carefully into you, dipping his toes into the water. He physically cannot express how much this meant to him, and how long he hid this desire deep in his gut, because God forbid he be the one to bring it up. If he had to wank off in the bathroom in between commercial breaks until you decided you were ready to have sex again, he’d find a way to tolerate it.

“Is it okay?” He choked out in between breaths; only minutes in, and he was cradling dangerously on the edge.

“Yeah—yeah, it’s okay. It feels good.” You readjusted your hips, stretching your leg out to wrap around his. “Maybe a little faster?”

“I’ll cum in a second—” He shook his head, halting his movements when that tiny, little knot inched closer to unravelling. “Just give me a sec.”

“Babe—”

“Hold—” He reached his arm under the bend of your knee, lifting it up as he thrusted back into you. “Fuck—”

He was relentless; you stretched your hand down between your thighs, rubbing and kneading that small bundle of nerves as his cock hit deep within you with no sign of letting up.

It had been way too long.

“Harry—fuck—” It was deep, pulsating, and you lifted your hips up as your orgasm radiated throughout your every limb, tightening around his cock as he thrusted hard, giving you one last nudge of pleasure as his grip tightened around the sheets, fucking into you with a lasting, animalistic moan, cumming thick ropes into you.

You made him access the condom, triple checking there wasn’t a hole unbeknownst to either of you, and after a fourth overview, he politely asked you if he could throw away his used condom now.

You would be okay this time.

He ran a bath a little later, and you submerged your body deep within the bubbles, letting them rest at your jawline. You felt like you lost your virginity all over again.

“H?” You asked, rubbing the bubbles up your arm.

“Yes, pet?”

“Do you want to get married?”

The question caught him, and he cracked his eyes open with curiosity. “I want to, yeah. You know I do.”

The conversation had only been passed around once, when you were terribly drunk and crying over some sob film where the boyfriend dies before they have a chance to elope despite their parent’s protests. The film stuck with you for weeks, and you always wondered, if you knew you were with the one, why wait? Why wait for tragedy to strike?

“Let’s get married.”

He chuckled, wiggling his toes against yours. “You’re mental.”

“No, I’m serious. Why wait? Seriously? I love you, you love me, and we aren’t getting any younger.”

“Pet, you’re 24.”

“And only getting older!”

“So, you want to find some Little White Chapel in Vegas and get hitched?” He leaned up a little, a smirk stretching out on his face.

“I want a real wedding, of course, someday, but right now…let’s do it. Let’s go to Vegas or Miami or somewhere, and just do it.”

It took an hour, but he eventually agreed, and was on the phone with Jeff to arrange a flight and hotel. The next day, the two of you ran around downtown to every consignment shop in the city, looking for a white dress – not as hard as you thought it would be – a diamond ring – a little tough, but you found one for cheap – and a nice pair of heels in your size – a lot harder; you bought a size too big by accident.

And in 24 hours, you would be marrying your best friend.

Miami, FL September 26, 2019

“Shit…fuck, we’re actually doing this?” You stuffed a wad of tissue paper into the toe box of your heels – one size too big – and stood up to test them for a final time. “No going back?”

“Cold feet, pet?”

“No, I’m fucking—it’s humid in here.” You swing around to face him, fanning yourself off with a loose People magazine, and its then you see him standing smugly in his slacks, a proper grin etching itself across his face.

“Cold feet—the expression, pet…”

“Harry—fuck, I’m nervous. My shoes are too big, I feel a pimple forming on my chin, and I’m pretty sure the wire in my bra broke ten minutes ago because something is stabbing my tit.”

“Well, I think your tits look great.”

“You can thank that bombshell bra I bought years ago for that.” You stroll back over to the sofa and toss the magazine carelessly onto the coffee table. “Did you have them sign an MDMA?”

“NDA, and Jeff got that covered.” Harry combs back a piece of his hair, that one strand that always gives him trouble. “Hold onto this for me?” You watch as he removes his H ring, and strolls over to the sofa. “Put it in your bra—can’t lose much in there.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“And you’re my wife.” His fucking smug grin falls over him like a tidal wave, and you wish you could just slap it right off his face.

“No, I’m not.”

“Give it a couple minutes.”

Your heart hurled itself up into your esophagus, the tremorous pounding radiating all throughout your head to your toes. Harry appeared quite relaxed as he staggered to the full-length mirror to adjust his collar, and from the reflection, he caught your watchful stare.

“Your mom is going to be pissed.” You think back to Anne, and all the good she’s done for you, and you are now repaying her by having her miss her son’s wedding. “We’ll need to plan the real thing soon.”

“We’ll tell her when we want to tell her, but for now,” he swung around on his heel to face you, “This is about you and me…and the rest of our lives.”

You make a mental note to thank Niall later.

You think back to those years ago, and how you almost bailed on Niall that night to stay home and watch The Young and the Restless with your roommate. You weren’t thrilled to get that phone call, but as long as Niall agreed to pay for a couple drinks, you found it in yourself to put on a pair of pants and enjoy a night out.

And maybe if you had inclined to stay home, your entire life would be a completely different world right now. Maybe you’d be in somebody else’s kitchen helping them prepare dinner, or on some lavish vacation with a guy you only met a month ago, or maybe you’d be alone in your apartment, binging a new show to pass the time you only let flutter by.

But you were here now, standing at an alter that smelled roughly of cigarettes and mildew, wearing shoes that were too big on you, in a dress that probably saw more weddings than you ever will, holding the hands of the man you were prepared to love for the rest of your life.

Nothing seemed to matter anymore, not the harassing, not the attack, not the stalking. It didn’t matter what anybody threw at you anymore; you were hard as fucking stone, and not a single person was going to damage what the two of you were building.

“You may now kiss your bride.”

#harry styles imagine #saaf series #miscarriage mention #miscarriage tw #harry styles #harry styles smut #one direction imagine #one direction

222 notes · View notes

betweentheracks · 3 years

Note

Heyo! Not to be too nosy here but you mentioned you're in bad health and recovering, and I just wondered what happened? Also how would it impact your career since, from how you've made it all seem thus far, it's a highly active and demanding job?

Hope you take care and get well! You appear quite strong and not like you'd take whatever has happened just lying down, so here's to you!! 🙏💓

No sweat and no worries here, I dont find this particularly invasive. If anything, I'm flattered you care to ask after me lol. 😁

A few weeks back I met a friend I hadn't seen in some time for lunch. This was against my better sense of caution that I've held firmly to throughout the pandemic, but I would feel regretful and dismissive if I didnt agree to see her while I had the chance. I should've listened my gut and stayed safely at work because this "friend" failed to mention she had tested positive (she knew already by the time of our lunch date, she has since admitted) and had figured since she had no symptoms there was no harm in being in public.

FF only a few days later and I was feeling a little unwell but had put it off as an effect of the winter blast that had just hit where I live. I'd spent half a day out in the cold and snow for a photoshoot only the day before and thought it was probably due to that since I'm susceptible to weather influenced head colds and bronchitis. Fortunately, my job mandates a rigid COVID-19 screening twice a week due to our high profile clientele and as an assurance of health and safety for us all. Mine read back with a positive and with the way I had been feeling I was immediately sent home and the company closed its doors while the building was sterilized and our clients notified.

Thankfully I managed not to infect anyone I work with nor my son. Regrettably, I did infect my best friend since we're horrifically incapable of maintaining personal space and have weak shit immune systems. We both agree it is a wonder we made it this far into plague times without it catching us.

So I went and got looked over and sent on my way with my prescription of potent anti-virals and steroids. I was well prepared to abide the quarantine guidelines and had sent my son to my mother's home for the duration so that he was out of the danger zone. It was fine, I was kinda cool and keen on getting a few days to myself to rest up and all that jazz. But it wasn't meant to last and I found trouble in the form of being unable to remain conscious much at all and would pass out constantly. After a few times of this I gave my brother (he's a doctor and vaccinated) a ring and told him that my fatigue was no joke dude and needed him to come give me a better once over than the one I'd gotten before bc I was sure I was not meant to feel this badly. He found me unconscious in the shower that night, my head battered from crashing to the basin.

After ensuring I wasn't concussed and jokes on what a hard head I have to take such a beating and show no signs of registering it beyond bruising (a joke between us due to him having once accidentally put a golf club into my forehead and fracturing my skull but that's a different story) he told me to call him regularly so that he can review how I feel and the progression of my symptoms and left. By the morning I had already had two more instances of sudden fatigue and collapsing in on myself. I had been posting on my main blog here about how I was doing and due to this I caught the concern of @peekbackstage and upon their suggestion to have my O2 levels tested it was revealed that I was having issues with my blood not circulating oxygen as it should and nearing hypoxia.

Here's the rub. I have a heart condition that is already very dangerous and bleak which limits my heart's capability of delivering blood through my body as it should. Cardiomyopathy or, as it seems better known, congestive heart failure. I've had surgery for it and it has been a while since it caused me any real issues as long as I stick to my routine of care and manage my health, but when COVID-19 infiltrated my body it immediately snagged upon this weak heart of mine and sank its fangs in.

Within a day of being admitted to the hospital I had a grand mal seizure due to the constant fluctuations of oxygen in my blood and the way my body was working double time to supplement for it. And only 2 days after that and when my nervous system had finally quieted down, I went into full cardiac arrest with a heart attack at my young age.

My next weeks were spent connected to machines doing more for me than my own body could. I developed pneumonia in my lungs, acute though it was it was still another complication that my wrecked body had to overcome as it made my already ragged breathing even worse. I was steadily shedding muscle tone and definition due to a lack of mobility and the fact that my body felt like a deadweight I could hardly take command of, and generally very weakened. My heart, the horrible thing, was inflamed and trying too hard by beating too fast, too hard.

FF some more and I was doing fairly well and treatments were showing some improvement. My heart was still being an ugly and gnarled beast in my chest and throwing weird spikes on the monitor that raised alarms. The pneumonia was retreating and I had no further seizures. It was the dawning light of my first signs that I was recovering!

It took a while more and so fucking many tests day in and day out for me get cleared for release. I tested negative for COVID-19 and was ashamed that I actually forgot that that was why I was even in the hospital to begin with, given all that happened. I have to undergo physical therapy and counseling; PT for heart happy exercises as well as to manage to my depleted muscles, counseling bc I was rocked mentally from all the almost dying and the depressive haze of being holed up in the hospital and surrounded by people who, like me, came in with COVID-19 but unlike me did not come out of it.

I'm home now. I had to have a pacemaker implanted and must stay vigilant for any showing that my heart is not performing as it should. I still have some severe inflammation and chest restriction in my airways as well as my blood vessels but nothing too daunting. I also have a full battalion of prescriptions, most for my heart, and a nebulizer to ease any breathing issues. The worst is honestly that I still am very weak and have severely limited reserves of energy.

My job is required to make me take 12 weeks of leave for rest and recuperation. This is very upsetting since I had been requested by name to be an assistant stylist at the Grammys this year which is truly a dream (especially with BTS in the mix 😩😩) and also bc I'm just a workaholic by nature and love my job. When I return I am expected to learn how to properly delegate tasks that do not directly require me to handle and slow down the pacing of my projects. My boss terminated a contract with a client that was nearing the scheduled end of our agreement and was also incredibly problematic to help lighten my workload. It's imperative that I reign in my stress levels or my heart will not last until the next surgery I'll need, so I'm gritting my teeth and letting my job be picked apart to reduce my responsibilities.

My post awaits my return but I will not be returning to full activity for a while after, which means no rifling through the racks for hours alongside the archivists in search of the perfect piece. I'll be welcome to meet with my clients and oversee the glam teams, will still be the command tower for final verdicts on which styles to use. But I will not be running around showrooms nor personally handling matters any competent trainee could be tasked with like I've always done. I will no longer be able to fly out anywhere for destination shoots or fashion shows.

If, after my next surgery, things are better and my heart stable to the point that they are hopeful of things will be reevaluated. While it is difficult beyond measure for me to relinquish the reigns of my career and be restricted in what I can do now, I am very thankful to be alive and upright when that wasn't a certainty just a little while ago. This is such a humbling experience to have survived when my stats kept dropping every day. I've been told to expect that I will never make a full 100% recovery and to expect to stall out around the 70%-90% range, with 70% being the most realistic.

My best friend (the one I gave the plague to) will be moving in with me so that I am never on my own if things go tits up and to assist in wrangling a toddler since I am currently without the energy to do so as my child is, sincerely, a crazy gremlin spawn with limitless battery life. Slowly, my life will regain some normalcy 💖

#racks asks #personal and long winded - read at own risk

30 notes · View notes

hiddlestonsbabygirl · 4 years

Text

Care For Me (Steve Rogers au) SugarDaddy!Steve

•prologue•

An alternative universe where Steve isn’t an Avenger, but rather a CEO of one of the biggest companies in the US. His best friend and business partner Bucky secretly made him an account in an online dating site for sugar daddies and sugar babies, setting Steve up on a date with the only suitable sugar baby he thought was best for his best friend among the million others in his inbox.

It’s you. You’re the sugar baby.

Or,

Where reader is a med student who is badly in need of financial support and resorted to desperate measures by signing up to an online dating site with a little help from reader’s best friend, Nat.

•••

You ran up the staircase, not bothering to apologize as you bumped into strangers along the way. Your heart hammered against your chest as sweat outlined your forehead, thoughts running through your mind as you wondered what could have happened to your apartment. You just got a call from your good neighbor Mrs. Sally that the landlord stormed into your hallway followed by two men in white muttering angry words as he unlocked your door with his duplicate key. You knew instantly why he was there. You were getting kicked out of your own apartment since you weren’t able to pay for your rent in six months. The landlord had warned you beforehand to pay sooner, but it was getting harder and harder each day. You were already broke, all your savings spent on your medical school. You didn’t want to stop your studies—you were already on your third year and ever since you graduated college your goal was straight; finish med school, pass the licensure exams and become a doctor. You couldn’t even last a week on your countless part-time jobs because of your coming in late due to knee-deep work you have to face every single day in school.

Your financial status was making it hard for you to finish your goal. Very hard.

You reached your floor, and, as expected, all your things were outside your door in boxes. Your heart sank as you stared at the mess, your clothes and books thrown aggressively into the containers as if they meant nothing but pieces of trash.

You rushed inside and your landlord was standing by your small kitchen, barking orders at his two men, without even noticing that you entered.

“Please, sir,” you cried as you neared him. “Please give me one more chance. I’ll pay by the end of the month, I promise!”

He scowled at you. “I’ve given you too many chances, (Y/N). You’re too much.”

He turned his back at you and proceeded to march into your bedroom, calling out one of his men to follow him inside.

“No!” You yelled angrily this time. You couldn’t believe him. You may haven’t paid your debt owed to this man but that didn’t give him the right to intrude into your privacy.

You ran past them and stood in front of them before they could get any closer to the door, your cheeks flushed and eyes filled with angry tears.

“You can’t just walk into someone’s bedroom and take everything away!” You cried. “I can pack up myself! I don’t need your filthy hands on my belongings!”

Your landlord looked furious. “Then throw your damn things out of my apartment in the next hour or I’ll fucking rip this room apart by myself!”

You flinched at the loudness and anger of his voice before he turned around and left without another word, his men following close behind. Once you heard the main door slam shut you bawled your eyes out, sinking to the floor as you struggled to think of places where you could find refuge without having to pay. All you had in your wallet was a 20-dollar bill, and you didn’t have any extra cash in your bank account. You considered searching for very cheap rooms in the vicinity without having to ride because riding meant paying. But you couldn’t walk on the streets while struggling to hold boxes of your things. They were even too many for only two small hands.

You sobbed. At this point you felt so hopeless already. You almost convinced yourself that you were going to throw your unnecessary things away and sleep on the streets, while asking for spare change. You’d have to give up your med school since you couldn’t shoulder all the expenses anymore and just look for a job where it pays just enough for food and shelter. You didn’t have a family anymore to back you up. Your addictive mother left you for a stranger, and your father’s been gone even before you were born. You didn’t have any siblings, nor uncles or aunts or extended family members where you could go to for help. You had no one. It was only you.

You wiped away your tears, swallowing your pride as you took out your old, worn-out phone from your pocket and dialed your best friend’s number.

Natasha.

She’s been your best friend since high school, and you both shared the same passion in life. You both wanted to become a doctor. You both have so much in common, and you both agree to almost everything. You’ve been there for each other through the ups and downs, and Natasha has helped you through your own struggles financially. But asking for this big favor from her was just too much for you. You didn’t want to add a burden to your best friend—med school is already hard enough as it is.

But you were already desperate. You didn’t have any more options. This was the only one.

“Hello?”

You felt a sudden wave of relief hearing a voice so soothing in the midst of the chaos. “Nat, hi.”

“(Y/N), have you been crying? What happened??”

You hiccuped. “I-I’m fine, Nat. C-Could you come over? I k-kind of need your help.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

As promised, a knock came from your door and you stood up to open it, revealing a worried Natasha standing over your disarrayed valuables.

You couldn’t help yourself. Fresh tears welled up in your eyes as she pulled you in for a tight hug and you sobbed into her shoulder.

“We’ll pack up your things and go to my house. You’re staying there for as long as you like. My home is always open for you, (Y/N). And you know that.”

...

“So? How did it go with Katherine?” Bucky spoke up as he stabbed his medium-rare meat with his fork, clearly playing with his food rather than eating it. It was lunch break and Bucky and Steve were in their usual go-to for lunch, Redbird.

“Despite the fact that we called it a night early? It was okay.” Steve replied with a scoff, bringing a spoonful of rice to his mouth and watched as Bucky gave his best friend a deadpanned look.

“And you were the one who ended things early, not her, right?”

Steve nodded. He was slowly getting tired of Bucky setting him up with several women, whom he doesn’t even take interest in. He always has the need to pair Steve with someone because “you always look so bleak and somber,” as Bucky would put it.

“Buck, I really appreciate you doing these stuff for me, being my wingman and all, but I really don’t feel like dating right now.”

“Oh, yeah?” He retorted. “Then why do you always look so depressed? You can’t fucking tell me your wealth and fame is making you distressed. That’s some absurd bullshit right there.”

“Language.” Steve glared at him. He always hated when people cussed. For him it was indecent and dirty.

Except, of course, cussing in bed. He can only tolerate profanity under the sheets. But not often, though. That would be too much to listen to.

“Seriously??”

“And yes, James. Wealth and fame does not automatically make you happy and unproblematic. Do you know how many rich and famous people died because they took their own life? Because they hide their problems. The only image the public sees is the happy and successful façade they show.”

Silence. Steve was almost convinced he had won over their little argument.

“That shit deep, man.” Bucky only chuckled to which his best friend exhaled an exasperated sigh. Steve couldn’t even bother to point out that Bucky said a bad language word again.

“But you’ve got friends. Your family loves and supports you, you make time for sports and leisure...what could possibly make you so sad??”

Steve breathed out. “I told you, I’m not depressed, I’m not sad. I just don’t feel like dating as of the moment.”

“Will you feel like dating again tomorrow?”

“Haha, very funny.”

Bucky only stared at his best friend as he took a sip of his drink, studying him with confusion and amusement. Very formal man, always has a steely look on his face, very dominant demeanor, couldn’t even stand hearing curse words! What could his best friend possibly like in a woman?? Were his calculations wrong? Did he expect differently? Was he looking at it in a wrong angle?

Is Steve gay??

“Barnes, quit staring at me like that. You’re making me uncomfortable.” Steve brought him back to his senses.

And then it hit him.

“Hey, Steve, I think I need to go.” Bucky announced as he stood up and gathered his phone and wallet lying around on the table.

“Oh? Why the sudden hurry?” The blond-haired man asked as his eyes watched his best friend suddenly look distracted.

“It’s nothing. I just forgot to feed my pet dragon.” He then proceeded to pace towards the exit, leaving Steve confused and asked himself how he was acquainted with a weird and funny man like James Buchanan Barnes.

Little did Steve know that his best friend was up to a very stupid but brilliant idea. He knew he was going to get in trouble if Steve found out about it, but it was worth a shot. And his plan involved an online dating site and younger girls.

........................... ........................... ...........................

A/N: New series! Yay!!! Tags are also open, just hit me up! Next part coming soon ❤️

742 notes · View notes

nightcoremoon · 3 years

Text

it's evident people haven't watched enough kids media to adequately understand just what constitutes a kids show as opposed to a show that kids can watch and be entertained by

when I was a kid I watched king of the hill and blues clues (among other things). king of the hill is NOT a kids show by any stretch of the imagination; it is an adult animation, replete with fairly heavy subject matter, sexual themes, political humor, cultural references that kids won't understand, discussion of religion in the modern day, depression and suicidal thoughts, adultery, puberty and sexual awakenings, body image, propane, propane accessories, and ultimately above all else what it means to be family. and blues clues is a show about a man who plays with a shovel & pail, talks to his condiments and mailbox, and sometimes he teleports into the felt dimension, all while playing Sherlock Holmes hercule poirot with his dog, and teaching kids how to count and draw and recognize colors and learn their ABCs. do you see the fucking difference? no? then I'll make it more clear.

dora the explorer & go diego go, mickey mouse clubhouse, handy manny, octonauts, bob the builder, super why, wild kratts, zoboomafoo, jojo's circus, wow wow wubbzy, stanley, doc mcstuffins, max & ruby, wonder pets, bubble guppies, ni hao khai lan, backyardigans, little einsteins, caillou (ugh) and p*w p*trol (double ugh), these are all undeniably kids shows. their audience is children (and the occasional adult by age with severe intellectual disabilities) and maybe the parents whose brains are too fried to care what's on the tv. these shows main purpose is to educate while entertaining on subjects one would encounter in preschool and kindergarten. counting 1-10, ABCs, basic color, basic language, basic intrapersonal skills, basic emotional literacy, problem solving, using your imagination, what sounds do animals make, breaking the fourth wall to ask the audience to answer what's 2+2 or tell them a lesson they learned today like I LEARNED TO NEVER JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER or some simple message like that. it's always light, there's no edgelord grimdark "what if they were dead the whole time" bullshit. it's just good clean simple wholesome [except for paw patrol] programs for kids to be distracted for a little bit of time, while also letting them walk away having said they learned something. at least half of the time dedicated to every single one of these shows is devoted to the same shit over and over again. I'm the map I'm the map I'm the map I'm the map I'm the map I'm the map WE FUCKING GET IT YOURE THE MAP! backpack backpack I'm the backpack loaded up with things and knickknacks too, anything that you might need I've got inside for you. we did it we did it we did it HOORAY! come on vamanos everybody let's go, come on let's get to it, I know that we can do it,

WHERE ARE WE GOING

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

THESE SONGS ARE BURNED INTO MY BRAIN AND THEYLL BE STUCK IN MY HEAD UNTIL I DIE

say click take a pic, the hot dog dance, CAN HE FIX IT???, pizza! spaghetti!, THE DOC IS IN AND SHELL FIX YOU UP, max & ruby ruby & max max & ruby ruby & max MAX & RUBY RUBY & MAX MAX & RUBY RUBY & MAX, wonder pets wonder pets we're on our way to help the friend and save the day, we're not too big and we're not too tough but when we work together we've got the right stuff, goooOOO WONDER PETS YAAAAY~, yoooour backyard friends the backyardigans (weve got the whole wide world in our yard to explore, thATS WHY EVERY DAY WEEEEERE BACK FOR MOOOORE), were going on a trip in our little rocket ship SOARING THROOOOOUGH THE SKY!!! little einsteins!

I swear to god I've been forced to watch so much children's television in my life it's no wonder there's no room left for serotonin executive function or the ability to speak to morons

point is I know my way around kids shows. my sisters were born in 98, 02, 05, 06, 10, and 18, I think, I don't even know because they're all a blur, I'm literally closer in age to my parents than to my youngest sibling, I never stopped being exposed to kids shows. I know what is and is not a kids show.

adventure time? not a kids show even though kids watch it. it's a "for everyone" show. it's got a target audience of 100% of the planet. steven universe? not a kids show even though kids watch it. miraculous ladybug? not a kids show even though kids watch it. scooby doo? not a kids show even though kids watch it. I'm not discussing the history of adult acceptance of animation, adult animation, or anime, so don't ask. dexter's laboratory. the grim adventures of billy & mandy. codename kids next door. teen titans. fairly oddparents. kim possible. invader zim. AVATAR THE LAST AIRBENDER. totally spies. courage the cowardly dog. the proud family. SPONGEBOB F*ING SQUAREPANTS. powerpuff girls. foster's home for imaginary friends. oh yeah you know what's coming next. my little goddamn pony friendship is mother fucking magic is not. a. kids. show. even though kids can watch it. it is a cartoon. it is an everyone show. that's why it's disingenuous and fucking stupid to decry any fan over the age of 7 as a pedophile and a weirdo creep; it participates in the infantilization of femininity. why is it ok for 20somethings to keep watching aang and squidward and finn & jake and zim and "return the slab" and everyone's totally fine wth that but when it's twilight sparkle suddenly everyone's like whoa you're a huge fucking loser for watching this girly wussy baby show for girly wussy babies. oh some bronies are sex crazed perverts? I'm sorry have you seen just how much porn there is for spongebob? oh some bronies are cringe? I'm sorry have you met half the steven universe fandom? oh some bronies are fascist rick sanchez kinnies with fedoras and katanas? BREAKING BAD FANS, HELLO!?!?!?

this is such a stupid tiring boring argument. maybe magic talking horses being friends and turning their friendship into magic rainbow nuclear fucking arms and blasting the evil out of a demon and turning her into the coolest fucking half-unicorn biker lesbian in the world is something that brings me, and adult, pure wholesome joy, in between bojack horseman and dark souls and breaking bad and deftones and fallout new vegas and jojo and cannibal corpse and other bleak depressing edgy shit that also brings me comfort. and MAYBE me at 16 starting to watch MLP:FIM becoming finally comfortable with the outward public expression of "traditionally feminine" interests is the main reason why I realized I was a girl when I did, and MAYBE I just like how pretty the colorful ponies look, AND MAYBE I KIN WITH ONE OR TWO OR EIGHT CHARACTERS, WHAT OF IT?

AND MAYBE ITS LITERALLY THE BEST LONG RUNNING FANTASY TV SERIES ON THE MARKET RIGHT NOW* SINCE GAME OF THRONES FUCKING SUCKS

but whatever, kids watch it sometimes so it's illegal for anyone who's not a kid to enjoy it, but only if it's something girly because liking girly things is bad because girliness is inherently bad, and the only things that are good have predominantly male casts*. right? right??? wrong, fucker. g4mlp has so much more in common with adventure time & atla than with blues clues or dora the fucking explora...r.

but keep in mind I'm saying this while hugging a blues clues plushie my grandma gave me for valentine's day because it reminds her of when I was a baby because I may not watch blues clues but it still means a lot to me for nostalgia and is 50% of the reason why I love ray charles. kids media isn't necessarily bad. I still do enjoy watching it with my little sisters. all this is is me being anal about categorization because I'm autistic and I LIVE for categorizing everything.

*besides atla obviously

34 notes · View notes

poison--ivory · 3 years

Text

Haikyuu!! Virus Au(Random/Reader) Part 2

Warning: Blood, gore, subtle mention of character death

Virus au! Part 1

Tendou felt like absolute shit.

His feet dragged across the school’s now dirty floor. A bright orange and purplish hue crystalized the walls nearly blinding his field of vision. Warm wind blew in between the nailed up boards. The glass broke a while ago from an incident a few days back involving a second year jumping from the third floor hallway.

Ever since the outbreak his attitude regressed back to his childhood demeanor. He puts on an act for the rest of the team’s first years. But, distancing himself emotionally from the rest of the team. Ushijima could read him like a book on some days, but Semi and Reon could tell exactly what was going on in his head with each fake smile.

The school went on lockdown a while back. Whoever was in the school stayed in the school. Which in turn left a lot of students stuck within the walls of the private school. The volleyball team stayed overtime that day and so did some other students that didn’t want to go home early and stayed cooped up in their dorm rooms.

At the time we didn’t know about the disease. The only indication of the world changing were the warning sirens that Japan uses for missiles firing. So, we all thought another bombing was going to happen in Japan.

Coach Washijo was called down to the teachers lounge and before he went gave Ushijima instructions and a key to the bunker of the school. It wasn’t until much later that they rounded up all the students into the gymnasium. As we were guided to the gym, Tendou took quick notice of the boarded up gate. What used to be the plain metal bar gate was now being boarded up with planks of plywood.

What was even stranger was the bleak silence. Not a single sound came to Tendou ears, usually the noise of birds singing and cars driving nearby would be heard. He just chalked it up to the sirens blaring that silenced the animals and most people would already be inside if the warning sirens went off.

As we were piled in the gym our principal stood on the stage, his intense gaze loomed down over all of us. Some of the teachers were already on break until April and most stayed behind for the time being in preparation for the next year. The ones that did stay were only a few, most of them being the honors class teachers and the exception of Coach Washijo.

If Tendou didn’t already feel anxious he did now. He remembered the air getting thicker and the slow realization of his paradise falling further from his fingertips.

The door to the class 3-2 opened and a brown haired girl slumped out the doorway, her hair a matted mess and her clothes at this point are just rags. Her crestfallen face was something to be depressed about. She slumped off down the hall, leisurely being drawn over by the darkness. The next person to come out was a breath of fresh air. Goshiki popped his head out into the hallway and gave Tendou a small smile, before ushering him in. The faint smell of medical supplies and the musky smell of the half washed invaded his nasal passage.

Dread filled his body as he noticed how many of his old schoolmates layed stiff and sickly on the makeshift beds. Desks were pushed together to make new beds once the nurse's beds in the clinic ran out. He could make out some familiar faces here and there, faces all a little pale and dark under the eyes. However, some of them on closer examination had sunken in cheeks, greyish skin and a strong pungent odor emanating from specific bodies he passed.

Stopping in his tracks Tendou glanced down at the dark haired ginger. Dark brown eyes soulless starred as they gazed at the white ceiling. Chunks of hair fell off in clumps littering the floor with red splotches and slowly gathering pools of blood underneath the lumps of torn flesh. Flies quickly gathered on the discarded meat. A brave soul walked over and tossed the lumps into a garbage bag and quickly moved on to do the same to other large heaps that lay slumped on the floor.

Tendou groaned and pulled the mask that laid on his chest up to his face, the smell only dimmed it. It was still present but not as bad now. Goshiki led him deeper into the classroom, the smell seemed to grow fainter with each step.

Tendou knew what he was going to see however he brushed it off as he took another glance around the room. His eyes watered, the smell really is getting to him.

Goshiki slid the curtain open to reveal a certain third year student. “We’re here, Tendou. Please, don’t make too much noise, we just got him to calm down. He’s been convulsing since last night and we finally managed to tranquilize him.”

“Tranquilize?” He questioned.

Goshiki nodded, “We had to. He bit two of the people we had come to give him medicine and he just kept screaming and kicking people.”

“Wakatoshi didn’t tell me that.”

“Coach told us not to bother you with this. That you didn’t need to be affected any further, he’s been worried about you Tendou.”

“He doesn't need to be. I’m fine.”

Goshiki gave a brisk nod back and walked out of sight. Taking his seat he stared down at the young man.

The body of Semi, Eita laid on his back. His once lively eyes are now cast over by a grey screen, kind of like a dead fish.

He would like to think that maybe it was his fault Semi got hurt, but no he can’t really blame himself. Semi and him both decide to split up to repair the school wall. While he worked on the wreck Semi jumped on the car and over the wall. Him and a few other students pulled on the hunk of metal as Tendou and a few others pushed the car out. Apparently there was a survivor underneath the car and Semi with another student tried pulling him out. He didn’t know what happened afterward, all he heard were the others rushing Semi back over the gate.

“Hey, there Semisemi.” He tried to make a smile pull at the corner of his lips, but failed. “I really hope you’re getting better.”

No answer.

Tendou put a shaking hand down on top of the old pinch server’s chest. The steady heartbeat of Eita softly battered against his palm.

Thump

“I don’t know what to say. . .sorry I was never great at vocalizing my emotions.” The sunken cheeks of his friend looked surreal and Semi’s shallow breathing made him feel anxious. Dried lips, chapped from hours without moisture. “You're really green in the face, Semisemi. Did you eat today? I’m pretty sure I have some umaibo in my dorm room. It's probably stale, but still sort of edible.”

Thump

“Maybe when all of this is over we can all go to a karaoke room together, play a couple rounds of volleyball like old times sake.” Tendou started to spout about all the good times they had together. The weeks before felt like a lifetime. He’s seen students go mad over the isolation, grow depressed from the loss of loved ones and everything in between.

Thump

His mind aimlessly wondered to his family. His mother is probably the only family member he cares about. His father left them at a very young age. Tendou’s mom never spoke ill of the man even when she heard he was getting remarried last year. She’s a kind soul, and Tendou could clearly tell he didn’t inherit his mother’s benevolence. The patience she had could rival that of a Siberian tiger.

Soft moaning came from the bed ridden teen. Tendou’s heart skipped a beat and a soft grin formed on his lips. Low gurgles sounded from the back of his throat and Tendou panicked. He quickly moved Semi over onto his side and swiftly scooted his body away from the bile escaping his mouth. Coating the floor in a thick black paste.

. . .

Something is very wrong.

Why is his vomit black? And when did his heart stop beating? It was fine earlier and Semi was just breathing pretty average. So, why is he still breathing if his heart stopped?

Before Tendou could yell for help, his body was violently yanked. Semi’s once feeble hand was now forcibly dragging Satori. He was pulled towards the bed and in a blur of fight or flight he chose to flee. Tendou maneuvered his right arm behind himself to grab a hold of Semi’s hand. It was cold and felt like plastic. He tried to wrestle Semi’s strong grasp off his shoulder yet to no avail couldn’t free himself. He wiggled back and forth, even placing his feet on Semi’s chest and was able to give some distance between one another. However, it was short lived as the being that used to be Semi seemed to gain a small power boost and was able to dig his fingers into Tendou’s jacket. Tendou thrusted his right leg out and pressed it against the wall. A loud thwack resonated in the classroom as he fell against the hard tile floor.

Steamy expiration landed near his neck, the smell just alone made him gag. Tears built up in his eyes and before he knew it his old friend’s mouth fell open. He’s gonna kill me.

Tendou’s mind went into a flurry of rushed thoughts. He could just feel the piercing of his flesh being torn open. Out of instinct he swung his arm back and his elbow made contact with a solid object. Semi fell off him again, his body sliding across the ground, and tearing down the heavyweight curtain.

Students slowly walked towards the disturbance happening in the back. Three students seized Semi and pinned him on his stomach before lifting him up forcibly dragging him out the room. Some of the others asked Tendou if he was alright, but all Tendou could do was stare in fixation at Semi’s now pink eyes.

#tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu au #Haikyuu zombie au #virus au #tendou pov

22 notes · View notes

vitalityofficial · 3 years

Text

Vitality LORE ACT 1 - The Girl: Prologue

VITALITY LORE // A1 - The Girl

Summary: We are introduced to a young girl whose life is about to change forever. After suffering a devastating loss, a mysterious man will eventually come into her life and begin his dark path of vengeance. The girl is only the beginning.

Warnings: Death, Cursing, Mentions of Blood, Bullying, Depression, PTSD, Anxiety

Wordcount: 1,778

School had been out for an hour now and all her friends had gone home. Why hadn't her parents come yet? They never took this long! And why haven't they called? She took her phone out, dialing her father's number and it rang and rang before going to voicemail.

"Dad! I'm still waiting. Are you okay? I'll wait for fifteen more minutes and if you aren't here, I'll walk home! I'll take the special kimchi route, okay? I love you!"

The 'special kimchi route' is a series of alleyways littered with various family-owned shops - one of those shops owned by an older woman who had the best kimchi dishes around and one her family ate at often.

The girl frowns after the fifteen minutes are up and finally hops off the swing, grabbing her book bag and sighing. "Traffic must be bad today," she reasoned, leaving the gated school property and making the long trek home. She still found it odd that neither had contacted her, but her mother's cellphone was being repaired and her father was old and sometimes didn't pick up service well. They lived far up in the hills - the rather "poor" part of Seoul, tucked far away with the main city in the distance - and any nearby payphones were broken and left to rot.

As she walks and walks, she can't help but to hum a happy tune, feeling perky despite everything. Her birthday was in 5 days and her parents had promised to take her to Busan for a whole week! Her best friend had moved there last year and the two didn't get to keep in contact so it was the perfect way to celebrate a special day.

"You! Child!" A gruff voice spoke from a darkened corner and she yelps when a frail hand grabs her arm, spinning her around. "Grandma! You scared me!" She laughs, hugging the older unrelated woman. She was a well-known resident to all in the small neighborhood and the girl's family was very familiar with her.

“It’s so awful, child! Truly terrible!” The elderly woman murmurs, her eyes wide and pupils as big as saucers. The girl frowns and a look of concern comes over her face - word around was that Grandma was not well and often spouted eccentric things but the other residents often did their best to take care of her as there were no known relatives around. “Are you okay, Grandma? Shall I help you home? It’s getting chilly out.” The girl softly grabs her hand, guiding her in the direction of the woman's house.

“I am so sorry, my sweet girl. You are to endure so much pain and it is not fair for you were destined for so much good.” The old lady rambles as they walk but the girl brushes it off, use to it. When they reach the final hill - which happens to split off into a fork - the girls home on the right and a cliff just across the weather-beaten road and the woman’s on the left - they are overwhelmed by the flashing lights of multiple police cars and an ambulance.

“What’s going on?” The girl panics as she takes everything in, immediately dropping the old lady’s hand as she rushes towards the commotion. She had never seen so many people gathered around this area and to her horror - right in front of her house!

"Was there an accident? What happened?" She pleads with an officer, who immediately stops her from crossing the tape barrier. "It's not safe, young lady. Please stay back!" The female cop grasps the girls shoulders, pushing her back. It wasn't soon enough though as the girl peaks around her, seeing a trail of blood that went over the cliff edge - something truly abnormal and mortifying.

“That’s my home! Where's are my Mother and Father?” She was panicking now - something clearly wasn’t right. Her parents were never late picking her up from school or activities and to come home to this...mess...The girl knew now that something terrible had happened and there was no hiding it from her. “Mama? Papa?” She screams desperately, tears instantly flooding down her cheeks.

The officer gave her a solemn look before turning to her superior, the two whispering among themselves for a couple of minutes. When they returned, the woman put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and guided her away from the commotion, sitting on a bench with her - a bench the girl often sat on with her Father when they ate breakfast and waited for the school van to pick her up each morning.

The officer didn’t waste much time breaking the news. “My dear, I am afraid your Mom and Dad had an accident and are no longer with us in this world.” Though her voice was gentle, it was clear that breaking such awful news to a child wasn’t something she did often, or even wanted to do.

The girl sputtered, unable to form any words. She looked around for the Grandmother but the woman was nowhere in sight now. “Mama...Papa?” She cries out weakly - the thought of never seeing them or speaking to them ever again filling her with an overwhelming sense of despair, leaving her gasping for air.

Everything went black then.

7 Years Later - (2016)

“Yah! Chaewon! Are you even listening? Hey! Watch out!” A firm hand grabs the girl's arm and yanks her backward just as a delivery scooter races past, beeping madly. “Are you spacing out again? What is with you?” Areum looked at her friend worriedly, the rapper of the triangle kimbap she was holding in her opposite hand crinkling loudly.

“Huh? What did I miss?” Chaewon snaps out of her funk, a tentative smile on her face. Areum groans in response, rolling her eyes as she takes a bite of her snack. “I said,” she begins with her mouth full of food, “I was thinking of asking Kangdae out. Isn’t he handsome, yeah? He’s not like the other boys in our class.”

“He’s a bit dumb, isn’t he?” Chaewon mutters. Sure, he was cute and had muscles but he wasn’t exactly known to be bright and was at the bottom of their class in terms of grades unlike Areum, who was in the top five.

Areum groans and smacks her friend on the arm. “Don’t be so rude, Unnie! He’s not stupid, okay? He just doesn’t really like studying but he’s a good person! He wants to get into music and he’s really good at it too! You should listen to one of his tracks he’s produced!” She goes to pull out her phone, biting her lip as she scrolls through some files.

“Maybe another time, yeah?” Chaewon waves dismissively at the cellular device her friend holds out to her. “I have to get home.”

“Let me walk you!” Areum offers, linking her arm through Chaewons. She was understandably concerned about her friend - who had been experiencing sporadic blackouts for a couple months now - and wanted to make sure she got home safely. “I mean, you did just nearly get shit on by a scooter while having one of your...moments.”

Chaewon shook her head, “No! I’m fine! Plus you know how my parents are.” Areum pouts, grumbling. “They have to be the lamest parents on earth if they won’t let their daughter bring a friend home. We’ve been besties since forever and I’ve never even met them! Ugh...”

"Yeah. They’re...strict and really embarrassing, to be honest. You’re not missing out on much.” Chaewon huffs, checking her phone for the time. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” She forces a smile at her friend, pulling her school blazer around her tighter as suddenly a chilly breeze whipped through the air. The two said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

As Chaewon walked, she couldn’t help but feel guilty for being so distant lately. Areum had been a true friend to her ever since her move to Gwangmyeong. She was the first student to welcome her. The first to defend her against the snotty students who picked on Chaewon for being sullen, quiet and “weird”. Prior to the...incident, she had no real issues with bullies and was rather well-liked by her peers. She had since become the opposite version of former herself - the girl her parents adored was gone and she had no proper concept on how to defend herself or react to the other student's harsh words and actions.

So why was she so rude at times? Why did she lie to someone she considered her best friend? Chaewon had come to the conclusion that it was a defense mechanism of sorts. The only way she could deal with everything was by lying about her life outside of school. It made it easier to pretend - the façade she had created was an escape, albeit still very bleak, much like the truth.

The sounds of the city center grew more distant as she reached the iron gates of her “home”. Her slender hand gripped the cool iron and pushed it open slowly, the squealing of the metal sending a shiver down her spine. Laughter could be heard flittering from the playground behind the old stone building that housed 13 other kids just like her:

Orphans.

The Seojun house for orphans wasn’t too terrible - the food was edible on most days and the rats and roaches were few and far between as of late. The couple who ran it weren’t the kindest and had clearly become burnt out after running the institution for the past 20 years. If they hadn’t been getting a good sum of government money to run it, they most definitely would have abandoned the ominous place long ago. What made the place tolerable were some of the staff, like Mr. Kim.

“Welcome home, Miss Lee!” Mr. Kim - the designated maintenance and security man -- greets Chaewon with a cheery smile as she approached the front door. He even stops raking to open it for her, bowing and motioning with a hand for her to enter as if she were royalty.

“Ah! yes! Home sweet home! Thank you, Mr. Lee.” She manages to muster a smile, bowing as she walks through the familiar doors and sighing loudly. Her smile falters as she is out of the caretakers sight and the familiar sense of dread slowly overcomes her once again.

18 notes · View notes

anonil88 · 3 years

Text

Euphoria special part 1: Rue

I'm not ready but here is my reaction and it will be long because this is an hour long. Spoilers ahead

My fucking heart man ugh

Omg why is this like my fanfiction I wrote....ummmmm uh

This is literally like the fanfic I wrote so I know this is all in Rue's head. If yall wanna read that I may link it at the end.

Orrrre it is absolutely the future, which is very possible.

Rue you were literally snorting in the bathroom sweetheart. Even if you are over making Jules the center of your world, you are still doing drugs.

Exactly, sobriety is the issue not everything that you think you have a handle on.

I dont have an opioid addiction, but I have a problem with shopping and food. Its called rationalizing your addiction because you feel good in the moment of it. It will all come crashing down in the end though, this is why its okay to fall off as long as you hop back on. It only feels good in the moment but it does not last. It does not last. Not to be preachy this is just why I don't do mental stimulants.

That's because you are depressed sweetheart. Unfortunately manic depressive and that is not something that goes away.

Ayyy Ali drag her

Secret stash (most addicts have a secret stash if they aren't serious about getting sober)

Being sober is hard. Addiction is also hard.

YESSSSSS THIS SPEECH YES!

Lmfao, relapse happens. Some people relapse and go im just medicating its fine im fine. Then two months later you are in a financial hole or emotionally it clicks and you go oh fuck I've relapsed.

Ayyy Philly Philly.

Can I virtually high five Sam?

Religion helps some people.

I too was angry at God for a year after my mom just died one morning. A normal morning and then it wasn't, the nicest person most people ever met and she was just gone.

This conversation about race, addiction, consumerism, radicalization, and god has me like:

Rue is so fucking high.

I hope people are listening to what Ali is saying because its so true. My family instilled this into me very early on before she died, you don't have to believe in God but you have to believe in something. I was extremely apathetic....funny I wrote family but I meant mom, anyways you have to find a purpose that is infallible.

OMG THATS.....

Ugh Moses i love Moses.

Awww Ali, it is very hard to give that trust back to someone in your family who struggles or struggled with addiction. Even if they are clean.

This is the absolute truth. "Trouble don't last always."

Can we get Rue some black friends in season 2, please.

Girl.....blame....she didn't make you snort then drugs, you made that choice your damn self with a whole secret stash.

She broke your little heart? Cheated? Y'all weren't even in a relationship...Kissing is not a relationship.

THANKYOU ALI.

Rue on the same shit a bunch of y'all were on. "We didn't get tattoos." Sweetheart. "Get me to run away." IT WAS YOUR IDEA.

Somebody smack this child, please.

NO ONE LIED TO YOU. I feel like I'm looking in the mirror because I kid you not, high-school me was this dumb.

Here comes the i feel sick and sorry for myself. (Its hard to get out of because I only got out of it 3 years ago.)

Drugs and mental illness change the way you would normally behave when you are in the right state of mind.

Ali please drag her

I wanna smack Rue I love her but her selfish apathetic unmotivated self makes me want to hurt her and hug her.

YES. THIS.

Getting past this point where Rue is, in my struggle with mental illness and maturity has been a struggle. A struggle that I am still dealing with today, Ali is spitting hard cold facts and truths.

I miss all the many people I grew up with and went to school with who lost their battle with addiction. I miss all the people who have lost their battle with depression.

Aw Rue then you need to try sweetheart, you need to try.

My entire friend group did not plan to make it to 24/25 and we are here so anyone who is in Rue's position, please hold on even of reality is so bleak. Please hold on just for a little longer if you can.

(The scratched glass on the diner window framing the lights is a nice touch)

So happy to see Rue and Ali again. This was good and even though I cannot physically cry, this was a very real conversation and I appreciated it. Especially in the shitshow that has been 2020. Here's to hope 2021 will be better.

Wishing you all good health, light, and happiness.

#euphoria hbo #euphoria #euphoria special #euphoria bridge episodes #euphoria spoiler

37 notes · View notes

monstersandmaw · 3 years

Note

Evening to ya, Ghosti✌️😆

Sorry if the wording sounds silly, but I wanted to ask if you know any rituals I could do for the New Years. 🤣 Christmas hasn't been exactly an easy time for me for various reasons and I tend to get the holiday blues pretty bad, and for a long old while New Years has felt very similar. I'm doing my best to feel hopeful and to have some faith for the new year, but it's turning out to be trickier than I anticipated. So I wanted to ask for suggestions as to do anything that could help feeling more hopeful, I dunno. :3

Though feel free to ignore this if you don't have the energy for it. I hope you had delightful holiday however you celebrated!!! 😊💖💖💖💖

Hey anon! (it’s now afternoon here in the UK, and it was morning when I started this! I got a bit carried away). I don’t know that I’m necessarily the right person to ask about this, but here are some ideas of things I’ve found helpful/centring/calming anyway which you could draw from. Other folks, please feel free to chime in with your favourite ways to put the old year to bed and welcome in the new one!

(first of all, I’m sending you lots of virtual ghostli hugs to help drive away those holiday blues. That sucks, and I’m so sorry it’s been so tough for you.)

Here’s a rundown of what’s below, and I’ll put in a ‘keep reading’ so that it’s not an incredibly long post! Some of it is more on the ‘spiritutal’ side of things, and others are just mundane and practical things.

Congratulate yourself on making it through the clusterfuck that was 2020

Make some tea and meditate on what’s been and what you wish for

Go outside, be still, and breathe deeply

Let go of negative events and thoughts by writing them down, then safely burning the paper

Disconnect from social media for a few days (or however long you’re comfortable with)

Start a bullet journal

Write lists of goals for 2021 and then refine/distill them down to 3 manageable objectives

Commit 100% to 6 months of positive change

Pick three dates/months in the year when good things will happen, and make them happen (including growing veg/fruit)

Light a candle on the full moon or New Year

Ok, so, first of all, you’ve made it through this year!! That’s no small accomplishment, given the sheer volume of absolute shite that has been flung at us from all angles, no matter where in the world you live. Celebrate that. Seriously, I’m not being flippant. Take a moment of stillness wherever you are, be ‘present’, and just think about the fact that you’re here, right now, reading this post. Not everyone is here any more for one reason or another, but you did it. Congratulate yourself and celebrate that. Treat yourself to a slice of cake (or something you really enjoy) specifically to celebrate making it through 2020.

Make a cup of tea (try a new blend or recipe perhaps, or stick with your absolute favourite), or make a comforting drink of your choice. As you pour the water into the cup, breathe in the steam and enjoy the scent of it. Try and imbue all the positive things - memories, achievements, moments etc. - that you encountered this year into the tea/drink, and think about them growing in strength as the tea steeps, and envisage them continuing on to next year too. When you drink the tea, you take the positive thoughts into yourself and they become a part of you. You could try it in the morning with a caffeinated drink (if you enjoy those) and let it fuel you for the day, or you could try a herbal tea at night to let the good vibes steep overnight while you rest. Make it part of your daily routine; a private meditation.

Go outside and find a quiet spot somewhere and either stand or sit and just soak up the atmosphere. If there’s a tree nearby, think about the way its roots are planted in the earth, its trunk stands tall, and its branches reach towards the sky. Feel that space inside you. Breathe deeply in and out, visualising your lungs filling to the deepest parts, starting at the bottom. Count to four for each inhale, and six out (or whatever you’re comfortable with, so long as the exhale is longer than the inhale). This will help to still you and calm you.

If you have something fireproof (can just be a ceramic bowl), take a piece of paper and make a moment to write down all the negative things about this year, using a pen that you’re comfortable with. If you’re not one for words, draw pictures. You can make it really beautiful or just scribble it all down - it doesn’t matter. Get that shit out. Look at it for a while and read it through, mentally letting go of each thing as your eyes pass over it, then light one corner (carefully!!!) and let it burn somewhere with good ventilation (a cooker hood is good for that, but outside is better). Visualise all that negativity being swallowed by the universe and let it go. My favourite line from the Seamus Heaney translation of Beowulf comes at Beowulf’s funeral when a Geat woman is singing her grief at his passing to the sky, and there’s the simple sentence: “Heaven swallowed the smoke.” How beautiful is that? The sky swallowed up her grief as she poured it out to the universe. The negativity might take some time to vanish from your life (it’s not going to disappear at the same time as the paper, sadly!), but watching it go can be the first stage of letting things go. I did this last year, and I’m only just letting go of the last things on that list, but it was a start, and it made me feel more at peace.

Disconnect from social media. I know that with so much more happening online this year out of necessity, we’ve become even more dependant on our phones and computers, and it’s wonderful that we have this chance to connect with people when we can’t see them face to face, but social media can also act as a crucible for negative feelings. People usually post the best or the worst aspects of what’s going on for them or what they care about, so it leads to a skewed view of both the world and of what’s going on amongst our connections. It’s easy to start feeling insignificant next to someone else because of their achievements or their looks etc. and it’s also easy to start to get a bleak outlook when the news is full of terrible stories and people are reacting to it in a volatile and often knee-jerk way. Take some time off - uninstall the apps, or put the limiter setting on, or just step back - for a day, two days, a week, whatever you’re comfortable with. It doesn’t have to be forever. If you use those platforms to talk to people, tell them what you’re doing, and give them another way to reach you if they need. No need to isolate yourself completely!! Think about how you felt before you started it (write it down?) and do the same afterwards, and compare. If it didn’t work for you, then that’s fine too.

Start a bullet journal! Now is the perfect time to start bullet journaling. I first started this year when I felt like time was slipping through my fingers and my life was out of my control, and it’s really helped me to get a sense of order back. It’s not the magic cure-all for procrastinators and time wasters, trust me, but it can help to organise your mind as well as your day, and keep track of your habits etc. It can be literally whatever tool you need it to be. There’s a trend on social media - particularly Instagram and YouTube - that shows off these gorgeous journals that are basically works of art in themselves, and while it’s absolutely fine to aspire to that if you want to, the essential point of the bullet journal is to be a tool. You can buy print-outs from Etsy if you don’t fancy doing your own spreads. But don’t get completely hung up on pretty spreads and layouts because you won’t use it fully then. If you’ve got ‘new book fear’, like I did, make your own! I literally started my journaling by folding a few pieces of paper over, slapping a few stickers on them to cheer them up, and writing some lists. I didn’t buy a ‘proper’ journal until July 2020 when I’d got the hang of what I wanted out of the tool, and how to use it. I adapted one or two things, and I’ll be changing one or two things for next year, but it was a good way to start.

Here are two ‘minimalist’ journals and styles that I found helpful when setting mine up. They focus on usefulness and practicality, rather than overwhelming, artistic spreads and cutesy designs. I’m about to do a ‘plan with me 2021’ journal video for YouTube, so I’ll put that up when I’ve finished it, in case that’s helpful.

Elsa Rhae

Pick Up Limes

Write down the things you want to achieve for 2021. These can be more abstract concepts like ‘more organised’ ‘healthier’ ‘start a business’ etc. Then, when you’ve got as many things as you’d ideally love to achieve/accomplish/manifest (don’t hold back at that stage), take another piece of paper and choose a maximum of six from that first lot to focus on, and below that, choose just three absolutely essential things to focus on. Make those your things for 2021.

Now, this one is a personal one for me, so it may not be applicable at all to you/others, but I’ll share it anyway. For me, I need to make some significant lifestyle changes for my physical and mental health. So, I’ve decided to commit to 6 months of really hard work to bring about those changes. Time is going to pass anyway, from January to June. Six months will come and go anyway. Where will I be in six months’ time? I could be physically and mentally exactly where I am today. That thought is super depressing to me. Or, I could devote 200% focus, commitment, and energy, and bring about those changes, and be the ‘me’ I want to be in six months’ time.

It’s like the adage of ‘given a week to write a speech, it will take you a week, but given a day to write the same speech, it will take you a day’ - your brain will tell you it takes the amount of time that you have at hand to accomplish the task, and that’s simply how long it then takes. Use those three things from the 2021 list above, and commit to making those three things happen.

As an aside, tell someone (whose opinions you value) that you’re going to do this. By telling someone, you’re helping to cement the idea in reality, and you’ve got a support to turn to if it gets rocky, someone to cheer you on, and someone to celebrate with who knew what a struggle and commitment this was to you in the first place.

Pick three points in the year where good things will happen. Book yourself something nice, save up for something and have it delivered then, or tell yourself that you will have achieved [x] by May, or September, or December. For me, it’s a working draft of my novel, and certain health goals by October, but make it yours, and keep those points fixed in your mind. It will help 2021 not to be one amorphous mass of time, and will give it structure and form. You could also choose to grow something in a pot - lots of vegetables can be grown cheaply from seed in a pot on a windowsill, and you’ll have something tasty to eat at the end of it!!

Here’s a slightly gentler idea to finish with:

On New Year’s Eve take a moment to yourself, go outside if it’s not raining or too cold etc., light a candle, hold it (safely) in your hands, and be still. It doesn’t have to be exactly at midnight, but it will help your focus if it’s dark. Otherwise, go to a quiet part of the house and turn the lights down so that the candle flame is your focus. As before, think about what you’ve achieved this year, and be honest, not just negative! It’s very easy to say ‘oh I didn’t achieve anything, it all sucks, it was all awful’, when there will be tiny victories tucked away in there, I promise you, even if it was the toughest year of your life. Then think about where you are at the moment, mentally and physically. Acknowledge that state of being. Look at it with honest eyes. This moment is not for anyone else, so you don’t need to colour it one way or another. It’s for you. If you’re finding it hard not to be negative, be neutral. Let those thoughts come and go, and then turn your mind to the future. Mentally feed those negative thoughts into the flame in front of you, one at a time. Say it out loud if that helps, but do what makes you comfortable. Let the light from the flame fill your mind and your heart, and think about your intentions for the new year.

Tonight (30th Dec) is a full moon, so if that is significant for you, you may wish to do this tonight instead of tomorrow.

I hope that some of that gives you some inspiration, and I hope that people will chime in with their own new year’s rituals and habits. Be honest with yourself but not harsh, and be positive but not unrealistic. This year has been one hell of a ride, and we’re not done yet... Here in the UK, we’ve got the highest numbers of Covid that we’ve ever had, we’re in the harshest lock down (Tier 4) and can’t visit anyone, and we’re also going through Brexit (which is proving a nightmare for everyone, especially small businesses...).

Control the things you can control, and learn and employ systems to ride out the things that are beyond your influence. And take heart - you have a family of folks on here, all across the world!

#new year ritual #new year #resolutions #new year resolutions #rituals #ritual

44 notes · View notes

hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

Numb (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Numb Rating: PG-13 Length: 3700 Warnings: Angst (misunderstandings, poor communication, postpartum depression) Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set in September 1997. I PROMISE YOU THAT EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OKAY. Summary: Three months after their daughter’s birth, Reader and Javier struggle with their relationship.

Taglist: @grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim @amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @longitud-de-onda @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @seeking-a-greatt-perhaps @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 (more tags in the replies)

“How are you doing?” Javier questioned, curling his fingers around the back of your chair as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“We’re doing good.” You told him, readjusting Sofía in your arms. “Connie lured Tracy into the kitchen to work on some sort of deeply alarming salad with peas and cheddar cheese.”

“What?” Javier sank down into the lawn chair beside you, resting his elbows on his knees as he tilted his head to look at you. “Did I hear you right?”

You snorted, grinning at him. “Hearing going too, old man?”

“Ouch.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “No, I’m just wondering who the fuck thought those things go together?”

“White suburbia.” You held your hand out and he pulled his sunglasses off his shirt and passed them to you. “But it’s keeping Tracy occupied.” You pushed the aviators up the bridge of your nose. “I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

Sofía started fussing and you tried to readjust her in your arms. She was fussier than Josie had ever been.

“Do you want me to take her?” Javier questioned.

Some irrational part of your brain wanted to snap at him for thinking you weren’t capable of calming your own daughter down — but you knew that wasn’t what he was saying. At all.

“I’m good.” You assured him, cradling the back of her head as you nestled her against your chest. “I’ve got you, sunshine.” You whispered, trying to lull her back to sleep.

The comparison to Josie wasn’t necessarily fair either. Josie hadn’t really gotten a taste for socializing until she was in Miami. There were no barbecues or overly friendly strangers in Colombia. You couldn’t blame the baby for being overwhelmed. You were too, if you were being honest. Surrounded by people and yet you still felt isolated.

Javier scooted his lawn chair closer to you, his knee brushing against yours. “Hey, I’m going to go check on Josie. You sure you’re good, baby?”

You nodded your head stiffly, keeping your gaze low. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t seem convinced. Javier reached out and touched your cheek gently, nudging your chin up so you had to look at him. “If you want to go home…”

“Go harangue Steve about Stevie.” You retorted, shifting back in your chair to escape his touch. You didn’t need to be comforted. There was no reason to be comforted.

Javier frowned, “Baby…”

“I’m fine. I promise.” You gritted out. He didn’t need to worry about you. You could handle your own three-month-old. Couldn’t you?

Javier squeezed your knee three times before he rose to his feet. He lingered beside you, like he had more to say. But instead of saying it, he retreated to find Josie.

And Steve.

You just knew the two of them were probably comparing notes on being with women who suddenly changed. Even you wanted an answer about why your brain was constantly at odds with itself. Ever since Sofía had been born, you just… felt like a failure.

Even at work everything felt like it had lost its shine.

Frankly, it sucked.

Nothing felt right. You had really believed that going back to work would help you feel normal again. But maybe this was your new normal. And that was a bleak thought. You had brought it up with your pediatrician when you took Sofía for her check-ups, but they hadn’t seemed overly concerned. Apparently it was normal to feel like this. Hormones and all of that shit, but… it hadn’t been like this with Josie. You remembered being happy, despite the situation.

You didn’t remember feeling like there was a weight crushing you in the middle of the night.

There was nothing you hated more than feeling helpless.

You lifted your head, eyes scanning the Murphy’s backyard. You recognized most of the guests — friends of Connie’s from the hospital, a few parents from the girls’ daycare, a couple people you recognized from Steve’s circle at work.

You spotted Tracy milling around at the far end of the yard with Jeff, which meant the kitchen was safe. You looked towards the porch, relieved to see that Connie was alone as she headed back into the house.

“Change of scenery, sunshine.” You told Sofía as you started across the yard into the house. “How’d the salad go?”

Connie gave you a droll expression, “I think it may be the Frankenstein of salads.” She nodded towards the refrigerator. “It’s chilling if you want to steal a bite.”

You made a face, “I’d rather not.”

“And Tracy wasn’t so terrible.”

“Really?” You gave her a skeptical look. “The first words out of her mouth were ‘I expected you to have lost your baby weight already’.”

She grimaced, “She’s blunt.”

“A bitch, you mean.” You corrected and Connie laughed.

“You’re not wrong.” She wiped her hands off with a dish towel and gestured to Sofía, “Can I hold her?”

You tensed. She had finally settled down, but at the same time… “Sure.”

Connie carefully took her from you, sweet talking Sofía as she roused from her nap. She was so good with babies. A natural. And that made you feel guilty for being so despondent about Sofía. You knew that Connie would do anything to be able to hold her own baby in her arms and you couldn’t muster the same enthusiasm.

“Hey. Are you okay?” Connie asked, her brows drawn together as she looked at you.

“I—” You swallowed thickly, shoulders sinking. “I wish I knew.”

She glanced around the kitchen for a moment, before she looked back at you. “I think everything is almost ready for dinner, let’s go sit in the family room and talk.”

You wanted to protest. You didn’t need to talk. Everything was fine.

But it wasn’t.

So you followed Connie into the family room. You sat down in the middle of the sofa, watching her as she sat down in the armchair with Sofía cradled in her arms. You chewed on your bottom lip, lowering your gaze to your hands as you wrung them in your lap. “I just wish I knew what was wrong with me.”

Connie frowned, “You went through a traumatic experience. No one can blame you for taking awhile to get back to normal.”

“Yeah.” You raked your fingers through your hair as you sank back against the sofa. “I don’t feel like myself anymore. Honestly, I feel like I’ve been replaced by a pod person.” You laughed humorlessly, shaking your head.

“How are things between you and Javier?” Connie questioned.

“I’m surprised Steve hasn’t told you everything.”

“Steve hasn’t been able to get a straight answer out of Javier.”

“Oh.” You worried at your bottom lip. A part of you had hoped that Javier was talking to Steve — at least then he wouldn’t feel isolated the way he had been after Josie’s birth. But he kept things as close to the chest as you did. “We’re fine. I mean…” You shook your head slowly. “Things have been a little tense.”

Connie smiled sympathetically, “I noticed. Has something changed…?”

You were quick to look up then. Just the thought made your heart clench in your chest. “No, nothing has changed. Things have just been tense because of everything that happened with her birth.” You swallowed a lump of emotion that had formed in the back of your throat. “He feels responsible for everything that happened, which is ridiculous, but… I told him he had to stop with this guilt thing and now he’s…” You looked away then. “We’re both just bottling things up.”

“So you haven’t been communicating?”

You shook your head slowly. “I barely know how I feel from one minute to the next.”

“Have you talked to your doctor?” She questioned, giving you a sympathetic look.

“About why Javier and I aren’t actually talking? No.”

She arched a brow at you, “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I mentioned it to the pediatrician. He didn’t seem to think anything of it.” You cleaned off the aviators with the edge of your shirt. “It’s just hormones.”

“Sweetheart,” Connie said with a serious look, her lips drawn into a thin line as she held your gaze. “You’re depressed.”

“What? No.” You shook your head.

“Have you ever heard of postpartum depression? It’s common. Ashley — she’s one of the nurses on my floor — she really suffered after her son was born. A couple months on an antidepressant and counseling and she eventually bounced back.”

You stared at her.

“Why would I have depression?” You questioned, a sharp edge to your voice. “Okay, sure… I almost died, but I have no reason to be upset. I have two healthy little girls, a supportive partner who I love and—”

“You don’t need a reason.” Connie urged. “And it’s no one’s fault.”

“That is the problem.” You leaned forward, resting your elbows against your knees. You dragged your hands over your face, sighing heavily. “There’s no one to blame. All of this… all of this pain doesn’t have a reason. Javier blames himself and I blame—” You stared at the floor. “It could happen to anyone.”

“Which is why there’s no shame in getting help.” Connie smiled at you. “I could recommend a doctor at the hospital. Maybe you could both see a therapist.”

“I guess.” You shrugged. As much as you hated admiring defeat, you had both gone through a lot that… maybe a professional could help you both get through it.

“It’ll help.”

“Yeah.” You pushed your fingers through your hair, sitting back. “I’m going to get her carrier out of the car. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. You know I’ll never say no to baby time.”

You smiled a little, moving to get off the sofa. Depression. That was such a heavy thing to consider. You wanted to throttle the doctor who had just brushed it off. It made sense. Unfortunately.

And the last thing you wanted was for this to force a wedge between you and Javier. It was bad enough as it was, with him blaming himself for everything that went wrong in your life.

You grabbed your keys out of your jacket pocket, unlocking the back door so you could grab the carrier out. It would make eating easier and she could nap far more comfortably than she would in your arms.

“Holy shit.”

You tensed. ‘Holy shit’ indeed. You recognized that voice. Months of torment had been delivered by that voice.

You turned slowly, “What the fuck are you doing here Fiestle?”

Chris laughed harshly, “Of all the fucking parties to be invited to…” His eyes flickered to the carrier in your hand. “What? Did you trap another unsuspecting agent with an unwanted pregnancy?”

Nope. You weren’t going to cry.

You had never cried because of this asshole.

Shit, your eyes were actually burning.

“Fuck you.” You snarled, “I don’t know who the fuck invited you, but you’re not welcome here. In fact, you’re not welcome in Florida. Period.”

“I’m shaking in my boots.” He laughed, giving you a condescending smile.

“The only reason this carrier isn’t currently bashing your skull in is because they’re expensive.” You shot back, fingers clenching tightly around the handle. “So consider yourself spared, asshole.”

Who the fuck had invited him?

“Are we done here? I smell burgers.” He nodded his head towards the house, starting up the driveway. “Don’t you have some baby to feed or something?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Your comebacks are lackluster, sweetcheeks. No attack dog anymore?” Chris folded his arms across his chest and gave you a pitying look. “Did Javier finally realize that the ole ball and chain wasn’t for him?” He questioned. “I’m glad he got free of you.”

You caught movement out of the corner of your eye, turning your head to look towards the front door as Javier appeared in it with Steve right behind him. “Speak of the devil.” You remarked, looking back at Chris then. “Has anyone ever told you to really shut the fuck up? You’ve kissed so much ass in your lifetime, it’s no wonder you talk out of yours.”

“What the fuck is going on out here?” Javier questioned, arms folded across his chest as he walked through the lawn to you.

“Someone apparently invited this asshole.” You said dryly, glaring at Steve. “Did you?”

“I had no idea that either of you knew him. He is in town working on an assignment and I thought it would be nice to invite him over.” He explained, looking at Fiestle then. “I think you should leave.”

“Really?” Chris huffed. “You’re going to make me leave because some bitch can’t deal with the ugly truth?”

Javier moved swiftly, grabbing Chris by the front of his shirt and pushing him back against the side of the Jeep. “You’re going to watch your fucking mouth if you have any intention of using it again.” He snapped. “We don’t work together anymore, so I don’t have anything to risk.”

“I used to have a lot of respect for you Peña.” Chris tried to pry Javier’s hand off his shirt. “You took down Escobar… Had all this clout. You really threw all of that away to play house with her?”

Javier shoved him back against the car again, pinning his forearm against the base of his throat. “Shut the fuck up, Fiestle. You’re a fucking worm. If you say another word about her or my daughters… if you so much as think about them, you’re going to be drinking soup for the rest of your goddamn life.”

He released Chris and took a step back. “Run along.” Javier turned back to look at you, brows drawn together. There was still so much uncertainty between the two of you, but you knew for certain that he would do anything for you.

“You know what? Fuck you Peña. Fuck you and your little pretend family.”

Javier rocked his jaw, his tongue tracing the edge of his teeth. You gave a slight nod of your head, watching as he wheeled around and slammed his clenched fist into Chris’ face. He howled in pain, clutching at his freshly bleeding nose.

“I told you to keep my family out of your fucking mouth.”

“You broke my nose!” Chris swore furiously. “I’m going to call the cops.”

Steve crossed his arms across his chest, looking towards you and Javier. “I didn’t see anything. Even if I did, I asked you to leave and you refused.”

“And guess what Chris?” You grinned. “I’m the one with friends in high places now. I work for the police department. So, go ahead… call them.

“Fuck you!” He snarled before he hauled ass back towards his own car.

“I am so sorry.” Steve said, turning towards you. “I had no idea you had bad blood with that asshole. I didn’t even think when he mentioned Colombia that—”

“We don’t talk about him.” You reassured him, your gaze flickering towards Javier then. “Steve could you take the carrier in for Connie? We’ll be in in a minute.” You passed it towards him.

“Sure thing. Take your time.” Steve offered, giving Javier a pat on the shoulder before he headed back into the house.

“Let me see.” You whispered, reaching for Javier’s hand. You cradled it in your hands, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. “At least you know how to throw a punch.”

“I wanted to fucking bash his head into the car.”

You laughed, an actual smile spreading over your lips then. “I threatened to bash his head in with the baby carrier. But he’s not worth wasting the money on.”

He grinned back at you, curling his fingers around yours. “That’s my girl.”

“Let’s take a drive around the neighborhood. I want to talk.” You suggested, squeezing his hand tightly as his expression fell. “It’s good, I promise.”

“Yeah?” He arched a skeptical brow.

You rolled your eyes, laughing quietly. “It’s a long overdue conversation, Javi.” You took a step closer to him, tilting your head as you looked up at him. “Terrible timing, I know.” The worry in Javier’s eyes made your heart ache. You curled your fingers around the back of his neck and leaned up to kiss him. “I promise you it’s good.”

“You’ve been so distant…” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, his expression faltering. “I don’t want to lose you, baby.”

“You’re not.” You shook your head, brushing your nose against his before you pulled back. “Let’s drive, okay?”

He nodded, pulling the keys out of his pocket as he walked towards the Jeep. You made your way around to the passenger side, sliding into your seat. Despite your reassurance that the conversation you wanted to have was a good one, you could tell that Javier wasn’t convinced. He wasn’t always as obvious as you were about where your head was, but you knew him well enough to read the worries etched into his face.

“You are making me nervous.” You told him with a faint smile, reaching across to rest your hand on his leg as he drove.

“Well you’ve got me fucking terrified.” Javier admitted. “I feel like I’ve been walking on eggshells for the past three months. You tell me you can’t keep doing this and then you just…”

“When did I say that?” Your brows furrowed together as you stared at him.

Javier took a hand off the steering wheel, pushing it through his hair. “The night we came home.”

Your mouth went dry. “I didn’t mean us. That is the last thing I will ever mean, Javier. That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” He questioned quietly.

“I meant the guilt…” You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes and let out a frustrated sound. “You really thought I meant us, Javi?”

“Yeah.”

You leaned your arm against the window, staring out it for a long, quiet, moment. “Is that why everything has been so weird between us?” You tilted your head to look at him as he nodded. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t what I meant… Holy shit.”

“I thought it was just a matter of time.” Javier dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “And you’ve been so up in your head. Hell, I think that Chris shit is the first time I’ve seen you really smile since she was born.”

You blinked back tears, wiping at them furiously as they slid down your cheeks. “It’s just all been too much, Javier. I barely know how I feel most days. But I do know that I love you and the girls. That’s not something I ever doubt.”

Javier pulled the car over to the curb, putting it into park. “What is wrong?” He questioned, turning in his seat to face you. “You haven’t been yourself.”

“I wish I knew.” A bubble of laughter escaped you. “Honestly, I feel like I’m losing my mind most days.” You admitted. “I feel like everyone is judging me. Including Sofía.”

“No one is judging you, baby.” Javier promised you, reaching you to brush his knuckles against your cheek, wiping a tear away.

“Connie thinks I should see a therapist.” You told him quietly. “She’s not wrong. I guess it’s not uncommon for women to face these issues after childbirth and… I did almost die.”

Javier nodded slowly. “Yeah. You did.”

“I think we should both go.” You curled your fingers around his hand and brought it to your lips, kissing each knuckle. They were already bruising from punching Chris. “There’s so much we’ve been through that I don’t think either of us has considered unpacking.”

“It’s not a bad idea.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “It would be nice to get back to where we were… before.”

You nodded. “And I know I haven’t really brought it up, but I still want to go after the DEA.” He didn’t interrupt you. “I want to make a change.”

“Whatever you want.” Javier told you, leaning across the center console to press a kiss to your lips.

“And whatever you want.”

“I just want you and the girls to be happy.” He admitted. “I just spent three months waiting for the other fucking shoe to fall.” Javier sighed heavily. “Jesus-fucking-Christ.”

“I’m so sorry.” You leaned your forehead against his, cupping his cheek. “I was so tired and your guilt was starting to eat at me.” You brushed your nose against his. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“I want you to get better. That’ll be reward enough.”

“I want to get better too.” You agreed. “I want to… feel again. I feel so numb all the time and I hate it.” You brushed your fingers through his hair, tilting your head to kiss him again. “I’m sorry, Javi. I wish you had said something…”

Javier shook his head. “Don’t apologize, baby. I’m just glad I was wrong. So fucking glad.”

“Hey, Javi.”

“Hmm?” His brows furrowed.

“You finally got to punch Chris in the face.”

He laughed, “Of all the fucking people in the world for Steve to invite.”

“Seriously.” You sat back with a grin. “You really broke his nose.”

Javier flexed his hand, “Yeah, this is gonna hurt tomorrow.”

“We’ll soak it in cold epsom water when we get home.” You stroked your thumb over his knuckles. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders to finally admit that something was wrong. “It might be pushing it, but…” You lifted your gaze to meet his. “It’s still really hot when you threaten people for me.”

Javier snorted. “Really?”

“I’m not saying anything definitively, but I think the inspiration might remain until this evening.” You chewed on the inside of your bottom lip as you searched his face. “It might be nice to try…”

“I’ll follow your lead on that, baby.”

Maybe things would finally get back to normal. It was a start at least. A start to reclaiming the person you felt like you’d been losing. You missed the way things used to be before everything came crashing down around you.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

187 notes · View notes

mr-and-mr-dameron · 3 years

Text

Learning to love ALL of Star Wars

I’ve grown a lot the past few years, and with that I’ve came to appreciate a lot more things about what I love. I’ve went from bitter and spiteful about what I don't have to appreciating what I do have, and at the centre of that storm is Star Wars. A franchise I’ve only really been invested in the last year.

The beginning

So I was always a “fan” of Star Wars, sure. I grew up with the prequels and I was excited when Disney was releasing their new movies. But the past year is where I really got invested and found a whole new love for the franchise. And strangely enough, it was through the simplicity of Lego. You see, I started watching videos by Brickvault about Lego Star Wars minifigures, and something about seeing the toys I loved as a kid from a modern perspective took me right back to wooshing my Jedi starfighter around my room. From there, I started moving away from Lego and dipped my toe in theories, lore videos and eventually discussion and review videos, the turning point being Cosmonaught Variety Hour. Now, I have some opinions on the guy now, but Cosmonaught was perfect for me at the time. He was opinionated, entertaining, but most importantly knew his shit, and I liked that. His videos on Star Wars are pretty good, and really helped form my opinions back then... In a bad way... Now I’ll make this clear, this is NOT on Cosmonaught, it was just how impressionable I was as a person back then. I’m just saying how his video affected me on a personal level. Up to this point I didn’t really understand the hate for the prequels besides the fact they were “bad movies” and “people don’t like them”. Cosmonaughts video on the prequels gave me those reasons, and I finally felt like I got the distaste for those films. However, like they say... A little knowledge can be dangerous, and boy was I about to learn that lesson the hard way...

The fall

So here I am, knower of all things, the CORRECT things... I’ve watched my fair share of videos from a handful of sources, I know my shit. I’m making my opinions known, and I’ve become that friend. But whats this! A dissenting opinion!? My boyfriend actually likes the prequels more than the Original Trilogy!? SACRALAGE!! I must prove him wrong! And prove him wrong I...! Did not... In fact, something rather bizarre happened... He convinced me. I was stubborn at first, but I’ll admit, my wall got broken down at long last. He (bless his soul for dealing with me) managed to get through to me exactly what it was he loved about those films, and it wasn’t just the nostalgia. I had always seen the politics of the Galaxy like most other people did, some boring preachy nonsense that had no place in Star Wars, but I came around to it. Granted with a little help from the Clone Wars I managed to piece together just what it was there was to like about these films... I wont say they’re perfect, far from it. But internally they have so much more going on compared to the Original Trilogy. The Era has some of the most fun and expandable concepts and ideas in all of Star Wars, and while it may not be as iconic, the visual artstyle of it all is still its own recognizable brand of Star Wars. And almost like magic (or my phone spying on me) youtube started recommending videos that disagreed with Cosmonaught, and I got my first taste of how his video wasn’t as sound as I thought. Now as a side note: I still like Cosmonaught. He’s a funny guy who like I said knows his shit, but he obviously isnt the be all end all right and wrong which I hadn’t quite learned. I can enjoy his content while disagreeing with it, and I think thats just fine. I find myself disagreeing with a lot of creators I watch now and he’s just joined them. But hang on, we’re missing something here... A certain... Mouse? Perhaps?

The dark times... The Disney Empire...

So hop back to modern day for a sec, this timeline pretty much lines up with the end of the Disney movies right? So how do I feel about those? Well... When the first three came out, I liked them. Like everyone else I was loving new Star Wars. As a young art student, I loved Rogue One and TLJ for their stunning visuals, deeper themes and their attempt at something new and fresh. I loved the throne room fight scene, the light speed ram and how Rogue One had such a bitter sweet ending. But ho ho no one else felt that way! And whether it be peer pressure or my love of dumpster fires my opinions changed like that. I laughed at the Rose Tico and Snoke memes, I hated the Canto Bight subplot and poor Luke being butchered on screen like that, and then there's Rey... Solo came and passed. I refused to go see it, as I did with TROS which came out around the time I was getting back into Lego, and along with the prequels I was watching video essay upon video essay about why the sequels sucked and how to rewrite them. Some of them coming from a positive place, others... Not so much.. And so my hatred for them grew as I got back into the franchise and came to appreciate the originals for what they done great, and loathing the new films for lacking that same spark. And unlike the prequels, I didn’t really get enough pushback to change my mind. But what I did get was the full brunt of spite and hate the fans had for these new films, and honestly? It was depressing.

Hate leads to suffering.

I finally reached my rock bottom. I genuinely reached a point where I debated giving up Star Wars for the sheer amount of negative feelings I had towards the state of the franchise (which might I add is valid if you ever end up feeling that way about something you’re meant to be enjoying).

I struggled to get past how Disney “ruined” Star Wars, and clearly nothing was going to change. 40 Years of history had been wiped out and the new timeline was a contorted mess, and the amount of discourse and disagreements in the franchise honestly did not help at all.

Nothing was simple, everything had a catch. You like how Kylo was irredeemable in TLJ? Well he’s redeemed in TROS. TFA is a fun film but it sets up a lot of the things people hated about the sequels so you cant even just head canon that the other two never happened. And then...

Saved by Lego

There was Lego, making the best of a bad situation. It didnt care if you didn’t like that Palpatine was back (somehow), it didn’t care about the clunky prequel dialog, and it didn’t care about the thousands of retcons from the entierety of the franchises existence.

Whether by contractual force or not: It was pure, distilled Star Wars.

I loved how a set with Rey could stand beside a set with OT Luke and thats just how it was. It put into context that this was reality, and I could either be bitter about what could have been or accept what was, which wasn’t easy and I’m still not really over it. But I reached a place where I could accept the fun in all of Star Wars, that I liked how some of these characters looked, that these characters all existed in one Galaxy, and it was nice.

And it led me straight back into...

Learning to love Star Wars

One of the most important lessons I learned in the past year was trust your gut. Sure, hear out other peoples take on something, and if it changes your opinion all the more power to you. But don’t fight the fact you felt something in that initial reaction. I liked the prequels as a kid, so why don’t I as an adult? Is it because i outgrew them and see them for the disasters they are? Or is it because a someone who watched them as a fully grown adult that grew up with the OT was underwhelmed?

And to that extent... I rewatched TFA and TLJ with an open mind and an open heart. The result?

Im indifferent towards TFA. It has fun character moments and has a decent adventure, for what it is its good. But I actually found myself enjoying TLJ after all these years of hating on it. I liked their take on Luke, I liked the mutiny subplot, it didnt push the story forward leaps and bounds but it was a more methodical take on the franchise and for the I liked it. It wasn’t perfect, its biggest flaw is how bleak it can feel and its lack of doing anything interesting with its setting, but it does do a fair amount of decent things and I’ve come to appreciate it for that.

I’m planning to watch TROS at long last soon, so maybe I’ll update it here. But what I will say is that I hope Lucasfilm don’t give up on the sequel era and characters quite yet. There is still a lot to love here as much as you may not like it, and I hope that they can explore more interesting meaningful themes and narratives in external media that they couldn’t in mainline films cough cough Stormpilot cough cough...

I know not everyone will agree with how I feel now, heck a lot of my problems I had still stand, but I’m at peace with it all now. I just want to sit back and enjoy this franchise for what it is. While I might not forgive Disney for its severe mishandling of... everything (a rant for another time) I’m content just not them supporting to the best of ability.

Star Wars is in such a unique position where each generation has a different stance and appreciation for different parts within the franchise. The prequels were hated until its fans grew up and started defending it, The Clone Wars was hated until its fans grew up and started defending it, and the sequels ended last year, their fans haven’t quite got their voice yet. But I’m interested to hear what they have to say.

#star wars #star wars trilogy #self reflection #thoughts #meta commentary #star wars prequels #Star Wars Sequels #lego star wars #my post

23 notes · View notes

makeste · 4 years

Note

There's been a lot of talk about Mina's optimistic line about how they'll all be fine and back to class is a death flag, but if anything I think it's a desth flag for U.A. They'll be fine, but they won't be back to class as normal, because there won't BE a class to attend(RIP Shinsou)

seems like everyone in the fandom is talking about death flags and kids dying and society falling to pieces these days lol. fwiw, as I’m sure most people have seen by now, Viz’s translation showed that Mina was actually talking about Midnight, so if this really is a “famous last words” situation, it would apply to her rather than the kids.

but it seems like the speculation hasn’t really died down despite that! so since the whole “kids dying” thing keeps coming up, I’m gonna go ahead and weigh in on it again here and say that I don’t think it’s going to happen. so far I’ve mostly been trying to keep my reasoning short and sweet and leaving it at “it would be too dark”, but in truth, the real reason why I don’t see it happening is because I don’t think it would serve any purpose.

here’s the thing about character deaths: assuming that the writing is any good (which I would argue that it is, in BnHA’s case, although you are free to disagree!), they should always serve a purpose. and in most cases, that’s going to mean one of four things:

it serves as a way to write the character out of the story for whatever reason (for instance if the character is getting in the way of letting a plot be resolved, or if the actor is leaving, which of course doesn’t apply to BnHA but is a huge factor in a lot of other media). an example here would be Twice, who was written out of the story because his quirk would have prevented the heroes from having any chance at all of winning.

it sets the stakes and takes away the audience’s sense of security by establishing that No One Is Safe, and that People Can And Will Die. this is important in that it builds suspense and makes the audience more invested than they might otherwise be, because they can’t be 100% certain that their fave is going to make it out alive. a good example of this would be the recent massacre at Jakku, which showed in no uncertain terms how powerful Tomura has become, and also demonstrated that Horikoshi has no qualms whatsoever about killing off any number of pro hero characters in this arc.

it completes that character’s arc and serves as a fitting (if depressing) end to their story. this is probably the most controversial as far as “reasons for killing someone off” go, because it’s so easy to fuck up, and because someone will almost always argue that there were other, better ways for a character’s story to end. most “redemption” deaths fall under this category, as do the “character makes the ultimate sacrifice to protect their loved one” deaths. if Endeavor ends up dying there’s a good chance it will fall under this category. so far though, BnHA has been pretty light on these types of deaths, which tbh suits me just fine. ideally this sort of death is supposed to provide some sort of closure, but in practice it doesn’t always work out that way.

lastly, the death furthers the story in some way. it galvanizes another character into action, or serves as a motivation for them. or maybe the death shifts the political landscape of the story and sets new plots into motion. most tragic backstory deaths fall under this category; for example, pretty much the entire Shimura family (r.i.p.). this is another potentially controversial area though on account of there being many other ways to move the plot forward without resorting to killing someone off. not to mention that “fridging” deaths also fall under this category -- deaths where one character is used as a plot device to move another character’s development forward. Nana, unfortunately, is an example of this, but that’s another rant for another day.

anyway, so these are the four biggest reasons to kill off a character in a story. there are others as well, including simply adding some more tragedy and emotion to the story, but IMO that doesn’t really apply to this particular genre. BnHA isn’t a tragedy, nor is it the kind of bleak, grimdark narrative where killing off characters more frequently would make sense. this isn’t the kind of series where gratuitous character deaths are necessary to add shock value or realism. making the shift into that kind of writing this late in the game wouldn’t make much sense, and IMO would do a lot more harm than good.

so as far as I’m concerned, this means that if Horikoshi is going to kill someone off in this arc, that death needs to come under one of these four categories. oh, and something I forgot to mention before -- it should be necessary, as well. in other words, it accomplishes one of these four things, and is the only way that said thing can be accomplished. those are basically my criteria for a “good” character death.

and as far as I can see, none of the kids’ deaths would currently fall into that “necessary” category, or meet any of those other four criteria. none of the kids are so powerful that they need to be written out of the story (and even if they were, there are other ways to do that with AFO and the quirk-be-gone bullets now in play). they don’t need to be killed off in order to raise the stakes; clearly, fandom is already very convinced on that front already, or people wouldn’t constantly be freaking out over death flags and such in the first place. and none of the kids is anywhere near the completion of their respective story arcs. maybe if one or more of them had been featured more often recently, and there was some actual buildup, like we saw with Mirio right before he lost his quirk, or with Nighteye before he was killed. but we haven’t seen anything like that recently for any of the kids, with the possible exception of Bakugou (hence why I’m still pretty certain that he’s currently heading towards what Aizawa would call a “death”, with quotation marks, i.e. the loss of his quirk).

so that just leaves us with “their death would further the narrative in some way”, which is probably the most open to interpretation of the four. but for the life of me I just can’t think of any way that the death of a kid would advance the plot in a way that couldn’t be achieved by other means. want society to freak out about children being involved in a war? just injure a bunch of them, or have one of them lose their quirk on live TV with the world watching. want to traumatize the other child soldier characters for some reason? kill off one of the teachers, then. or, again, take away one of their friends’ quirks, and have them feel some misplaced guilt over not being able to stop it. this was the winning formula for the Basement arc, so I don’t see why it wouldn’t work here as well.

tbh a lot of this does depend on what exactly Horikoshi’s goals for this arc are, which still aren’t 100% clear even this late in the game. I’m not sure right now what he’s planning for the aftermath of this thing. will it be like Kamino and Fukuoka, where society is shaken up but still rallying behind the heroes and giving them their support? or are we instead building up towards a scenario where society’s faith in heroes finally crumbles and people are left totally demoralized in the wake of yet another brutal attack, and the total decimation of the Billboard Top 10? the latter outcome is seeming more and more likely to me, but an awful lot of it depends on how the next few chapters play out.

my best guess is that we end up with a scenario where the heroes succeed in staving off total disaster, but at a heavy cost. a lot of the pros are either dead or out of commission, Tomura and the League are still at large, and everyone is basically just sitting around trying to process what just happened and figure out what to do next while they wait for the other shoe to drop. word gets out that the kids were pretty much the only reason the battle didn’t end in even greater disaster, and as a result they get swept up in the ensuing political drama. the HPSC tries to parade them around as the next big thing; humanity’s hope for the future. but meanwhile a growing faction of the general public is furious at the government getting children involved in a war, and start arguing that the hero program should be shut down and U.A. should close its doors. and in the midst of all this, the kids try to lick their wounds and deal with the aftermath, and enter their second year very much unsure of what the future will hold.

anyway, so this all got very long-winded and out of hand as usual, but to sum up, I don’t think any of the kids is going to die here, and I think there will still be a year two of U.A., but that it’s going to feel very different from the U.A. we’ve known up to this point. if the threat of Tomura is still looming over everyone’s heads I very much doubt the kids will be able to focus much on their studies. but it may also be a case of them trying to cling to what little semblance of normalcy they have left. the teachers might decide to press on simply because it’s the only thing they can do. basically I’m anticipating something very similar to the aftermath of Kamino, but with the tension ramped up to 11, and with the adults fighting a losing battle to keep the kids from getting caught up in the middle of it all.

in other words, I don't think it’s an actual death-death we need to worry about here. rather, it’s going to be a much slower and much more subtle death by a thousand cuts. but it’ll be the kind of angst the characters can still work under; the kind that, rather than suffocating them, instead makes them grit their teeth and find a way to push forward. so yeah! anyways though, now that I’ve said all this, watch as Horikoshi goes and fucking decapitates Aoyama next week or some shit. lol maybe I should knock on wood just in case.

#bnha 279 #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks #long post

84 notes · View notes