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stargazer-sims · 1 year

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15 OC Questions!

I was tagged by the lovely @rebelangelsims (twice! But I'll happily do two of these!) I love this type of ask, where the character gets to answer the questions in their own words. It's a great way to improve (or create) narrative voice, and I love the challenge of making it sound convincing, as if the character really is answering it themselves.

Victor Okamoto-Nelson

Are you named after anyone?

Actually, yeah. I’m named after my mom. Her real first name is Victoria, which a lot of people don’t know because she’s always gone by her middle name, Grace. Anyway, if I’d been a girl, I would’ve been Victoria too, but I turned out to be a boy, so I’m Victor instead.

I'm also named after my dad, Thomas Edward Nelson. Thomas and Edward are my two middle names. I lost my dad when I was six, and it’s always meant a lot to me that I have his names because it's like I'm carrying a part of him with me no matter where I go.

When was the last time you cried?

Oh. Uhh… yesterday? I cry pretty easily, and it doesn’t take much. Yuri, my husband, likes to joke that I cry for everything, and he’s kinda not wrong. I mean, it’s not always full-on sobbing. In fact, it’s mostly not, but getting teary-eyed is still technically crying, so… yeah. I guess I’m soft, or I’m not very good at masking my emotions, or something.

Do you have kids?

No. Yuri and I don’t want any. We’re enough for each other.

Do you use sarcasm?

Not really? I think you have to be smarter than I am to use it effectively. Plus, sometimes it’s just confusing. And also, it sometimes feels kind of mean to answer people with sarcasm.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Their physical condition. Like, if they look healthy or not, whether they’re fit or not and if they’re moving and talking and breathing comfortably. I know that’s probably weird, but it’s something I really pay attention to.

What’s your eye colour?

Blue. They're almost the exact same shade as my mom's. Someone once described them as 'oceanic blue' and even though I've seen the ocean before, I never really saw why that person made that comparison until I visited Sulani for the first time. Mine and my mom's eyes aren't just oceanic blue. They're Sulani ocean blue.

Scary movies or happy endings?

I don’t like movies that are seriously, intentionally meant to scare people. I enjoy some of the more campy horror movies, but I don’t want to see anything that’s gonna give me nightmares. Yuri also doesn’t like scary movies, so I never have to worry about sitting through one for him either. We both prefer happy endings, or at least endings where most — or even better, all — of the characters are still alive.

Any special talents?

I don't think so? I'm super awesome at snowboarding, but I don't think that's what you're asking. Yuri says I give really good massages. Is that a special talent?

Where were you born?

Willow Creek

What are your hobbies?

Snowboarding? Oh, you mean other than my obsession, right? I love cooking and baking. Is that a hobby? I like fishing, gardening and playing video games. Dog training is probably a hobby, right? I really enjoy working with the dogs.

Have you any pets?

Yes, we have two dogs. Rosie is a smooth-coated chihuahua, and Sango is a Pomeranian. When we move to our new house, Yuri wants to have chickens and maybe a cat.

What sports do you play/have played?

All the sports! Seriously, I haven't yet found a sport that I'm not good at. I love all kinds of sports and I've played a lot of different ones. My favourites are soccer, swimming, and of course snowboarding. Not to brag or anything, but I'm a world-class competitive snowboarder. Like, I mean... shredding is life. If I couldn't be on the mountain, I think I'd be super depressed, because that's one of the things that makes me feel most alive.

How tall are you?

185cm

Favourite subject in school?

Physical Education. I wasn't really that great in any academic subjects, but I liked P.E. a lot and I also liked Home Economics.

Dream job?

This is a hard one, because I think I have more than one option for my dream job. Like, my current job as a wellness coach and personal trainer is amazing. I love helping people reach their health and wellness goals. and I'm really happy doing this. But, even when I was in college, doing my diploma program in Health and Wellness Management, I was still thinking about my future career. I thought I'd like to be either a physical therapist or a nurse. These days, I'm leaning more towards licensed practical nursing, and maybe specializing in home health care. I think I'd be good at that.

______

I'll tag: @holocene-sims @theageofsims @ljfoxie @cawthorntales @dandylion240 (I know you've already done this) and @blithesomebawcock

Feel free to ignore this if you've already done it or don't want to. <3

#sapphire answers #oc asks #Victor Nelson #stargazersims

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infiniteorbits · 2 years

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mortality

i've been confronting my own mortality a lot recently. its kinda fucking annoying. every single thought eventually leads to: oh my god i'm gonna die one day and all of this is gonna be over. and yeah, its true, but that doesn't make this recurring thought any less annoying.

i think the first person i remember dying was my grandmother. i was 4 or 5 and my parents had gone away on a "little vacation." when they came back they sat us down for a "family meeting," which struck me as odd; their pretending that this was simply a normal occurence when i don't think we had ever had a "family meeting" before then. they sat me and my siblings down and told us that my grandmother died. i remember bursting into tears, sobbing. i don't remember if my dad cried. i imagine he did.

there are several things that strike me now, looking back on that memory. first, the intelligence to sense something wrong. i was only five yet immediately spotted the strangeness of a "family meeting." but second, and more importantly, that i cried. maybe i'm wrong and i clearly don't remember much at that age, but to process death and recognize that it's sad seems so bizzare to me. i was so young and so little and even then i knew what death was, what it meant.

i guess it's time to get to the part that i've been dreading, the point of this. confronting it. i don't know where it came from or why but just all the time, i'm thinking and worrying about death. it's just little things that cause this boom in my stomach, like someone dropped a brick on a tent and just pushed all the air out. a weird metaphor i guess. it's not so much of the air getting sucked out but the thud and sudden absence of air as it rushes out. does that make any sense? am i making sense?

and god, it's

everywhere

i look at my 9 year old dog, who's heart is in good condition, and immediately the tent collapses with a pfoom: she is gonna die before i finish college.

my parents turned fifty and pfoom, their lives are more than halfway over.

my grandparents? pfoom.

my friends? pfoom.

an actor i like? pfoom.

pfoom. pfoom. pfoom.

i don't know why, i'm 17 and have so much more life to live (i hope). is it because of college apps? is it because my grandfather is sick and for the first time i'm realizing that he could actually die? is it all of the celebrities in the news (olivia newton-john!! i loved grease!!!)? is it just an age thing? the seventeen-scaries, u realize everyone is gonna die.

i need to stop, i keep catching myself saying "time to confront it" then going off on a tangent.

one day, i'm gonna die.

one day, my dogs are gonna die.

my friends will die.

my parents will die.

my grandparents will die.

all of it. the whole nine yards. the whole shebang. all that and a bag of chips.

groovy.

i'm not gonna cry right now but i did last night. i was petting my dog and just started crying. talking to her as she just waited for me to keep petting her. does she know? does she know she's closer to the end then the beginning? my other dog, clementine, died before her eyes, does she think about that often? i remember her looking around, waiting for her to come back. she knew clem was gone, but she couldn't believe it, just like the rest of us. and now i really wanna cry. i won't. but i really wanna.

the only thing comforting myself is this false sense of calm i can put over myself, a delusional acceptance of all of this. that death and life are natural parts of the same cycle, without death life has no meaning, and whatnot. i read something like exhalation by ted chiang and pretend that it brings me bliss. the beauty of life and death and culture and all that we have built.

but i don't wanna die. god, i don't wanna die. i don't wanna live in a world without my mom and my dad and my siblings and my dogs and my friends and my grandparents and one day my partner.

and now i'm crying. and nothing's even happened. i'm sitting in my kitchen, my family alive and well, and i'm crying. i'm wasting my life crying over this but at the same time i can't ignore it.

i wanna believe in heaven, i really truly do. i wanna believe there's some plan for me and the people i love and that we get to spend eternity together in paradise. i would give everything and anything for that to be true. i can't say it is 100% implausible, but i can't tell you that i believe that my journey will lead me to heaven.

what a cruel fucking trick life is.

and all of this leads into my journey with religion/belief or nonbelief, how awful this world is, and how depressed everything makes me.

and it's hard because i don't want this, i don't want to feel like this. the world sucks and we're all gonna die but can't i tell my brain to just leave it alone? it's inevitable!!! it's out of my control!!! there's nothing i can do about it!!!! leave me alone!!!! i want to live and be happy and not have everything spiral into everything wrong with this world but i can't.

so where do we round this off, where do we find the point to all of this. i don't wanna face my mortality, but i have to, and i face it too often to the point where its plaguing my life, religion is a scam unless it isn't and do i believe in god because maybe He exists or because of american suburbia, who knows, and i'm tricking myself into thinking everything's fine otherwise i'll go crazy but i know it's not fine and i'm tricking myself and i'm going crazy anyways.

maybe i should start seeing my therapist again. but i don't think she'll know what to do either

#tw death #tw depression #tw existentialism #tw religion #tw mortality #tw mental health #tw mentally ill #tw extensive talk of death #free form writing #prose?#journaling #diary entry #writing #prose #no beta we die like men #incoherent #stream of consciousness #Spotify

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tifffytravels · 2 years

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Hi hello, guess where I am at?

VIETNAM!

It’s been about 10 days that I’ve been here and I feel like it’s been an eternity but not in the worst way. I’m seeing this place in a different light at last and I have to say, I’m smitten. I’ve learned a little bit more about my dads side of the family and it’s quite a discovery. I’ve been welcomed into many homes and I’ve even shed a few tears listening to stories. A ten day recap seems a bit lengthy but I suppose I will try.

We landed on the night to early morning Thursday, September 1. We were picked up by my cousin and our uncle who whisked us away to her house. After much puttering around the luggages, I finally was able to settle in around 4ish in the morning and had to sleep in the hot ass living room until the two guys awoke at 6. Needless to say, I did not sleep well and the rest of the day did not bode well. I was tired, scared and frustrated to no end. They made plans to go up to Ba Ria and I had to prepare everyone’s stuff which made me go off the deep end that first day. I could not stop shaking. I never want to experience that feeling ever again. I finally got some sleep around 9pm that night but found myself waking up around 3ish and I just had to call Tina. My mind was racing and I was spiraling hard. The following morning we made our way 2 hours up to Ba Ria to my uncles temple and…wow. I could not even believe that this was how he was living. The amount of dogs that wandered around made me borderline hysterical. The restroom situation left little to be desired: a dingy toilet where two dogs constantly sat by and a “door” that consisted of a yellow rag that blew right open when a breeze presented itself. Not to mention a scoop bucket and a pail to clean yourself. I was glad that I tried cold showering for the months preceding this trip or I was going to be in a cold awakening. I was shuffled into a room that could close on both sides and me being me, I kept both doors closed to keep the dogs from coming in and peeing everywhere. I admit, I felt a bit jarred and displaced in someone’s home that I was not used to living in. I was afraid to eat what was cooked because I saw the “kitchen” and the conditions in which the food was prepared…again, little to be desired. I stomached it all with a smile (or I hope I had a perceived smile) because this is my uncles home after all. I spent my days in this hot tin box I called my room and I tried to lay awfully still. I tried to nap, I tried to read and I tried to conserve my own energy. The dog smell was overpowering. I was slowly losing my mind, I wanted to cry but I was too afraid of dehydration and I hadn’t had water in two days. I finally begged my cousin to take me to the supermarket nearby so I could grab some bottled water much to my uncles chagrin. He felt offended that I would reject his rain caught filtered water. Why would I do such a thing, he must have thought. I was constantly toeing this line of respect and disrespect. My other female cousin had disabilities and it was tough keeping her at bay and trying to manage my own comfort. I really did not think I could last and I was literally trying to survive to the next minute. I would count down and rinse and repeat. I thought if I could make it till nighttime when I could take a cold refreshing shower then all would be well. When we snuck out to the stores, I would stow my toothbrush with me to use the restrooms to brush and clean up. I complained to my cousins that the dogs were much and lo and behold, a beacon of saving savior light came in the form of my cousin, Phuoc. He managed to make his way up to Ba Ria to “visit” but really meant to take me away to a cleaner place. I almost burst into tears. A bit dramatic but this is how it went down. He came in to visit and I was in my room puttering about, I had no idea how to approach this. As he was leaving to go to the front for fresh air, I grabbed his arm and we both ran to the front. I asked him to take me away, please. He, too, could not stand the smell. He understood. This was September 4th. I rode on the back of a motorbike two hours away to make it back to Lai Thieu, my dad’s hometown and where his 11th brother resides. Dad wanted to stay in Ba Ria with his brother and I had no choice but to leave him there. It sucked.

To be continued.

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plutofromafar · 2 years

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that is not my story

Summary: Drinks and trauma dumping, the perfect bonding activity.

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of psychological conditioning (Red Room), child abandonment (Natasha & her birth mom), child trafficking (Red Room). Don't hesitate to let me know if I need to add more!

[natasha's pov]

I place two beers in front of Yelena and Stefaniya, who is pouring a vodka from a shotglass onto Yelena's wound. Yelena winces loudly, her cheeks puffed out while exhaling. I sit down across from them, taking a swig of my own beer.

"That gas," Yelena starts. "The counteragent, it was synthesized in secret by an older Widow from Melina's generation. We were on a mission to retrieve it, and she exposed me and I killed the Widow that freed us."

I nod. "Did you have a choice?"

"What you experienced was psychological conditioning. I'm talking about chemically altering brain functions. They're two completely different things. You're fully conscious, but you don't know which part is you. I'm still not sure."

I'm a bit worried about Stefaniya. I noticed she had been dead silent ever since we left the convenience store. After bandaging up Yelena's arm, she cradles her beer in her left hand but doesn't drink it, only keeps her eyes on the label as if the words would change to something else if she stared at it long enough. Her fingers fiddle with the charm of her necklace.

"Stefaniya?" I say softly.

Yelena makes eye contact with me and shakes her head lightly, warning me to give Stefaniya some space. I cock my head towards Yelena's backpack with the Red Dust vials glowing.

"Is that all there is left?"

Yelena hums a yes. "It's the only thing that can stop Dreykov and his network of Widows."

"He takes more every day," Stefaniya speaks up, her voice cracks as if she was about to cry. She's staring at a group of kids across the street kicking around a soccer ball.

"Children who don't have anyone to protect them. Like me. Like you." She turns around to look between me and Yelena. "Maybe one in twenty survives the training, becomes a Widow. The rest, he kills. To him, we're just things."

Yelena places her hand on Stefaniya's knee. "Weapons with no face that he can just throw away. Because there is always more," she finishes Stefaniya's thoughts. She faces me again. "And no one's even looking for him, thanks to you and Alexei."

"Alexei?" I question.

Yelena chuckles dryly. "'Dad.'"

A child runs over to the well-lit mechanics shop, babbling something that I couldn't quite make out. The man in the shop, who I assume is the child's dad, picks him up and holds him in a hug. The kid giggles.

"Did you ever look for your parents? Your real ones?" Yelena asks.

"Well, my mom abandoned me in the street like garbage," I smile humorlessly. "What about you?"

Yelena shrugs. "They destroyed my birth certificate, so I reinvented it. My parents still live in Ohio. My sister moved out West."

"Is that right?" I tease.

"You're a science teacher. You're working part-time, though, especially after you had your son. Your husband-- or wife, I won't judge-- renovates houses."

I laugh at the fact that Yelena had spent time actually planning it out. "That is not my story."

"What is your story?" Stefaniya asked.

I pause for a moment. "I never let myself be alone long enough to think about it,"

"Did you ever wish for kids? I want a dog," Yelena admits.

I think about her question for a few moments, but ultimately decided not to answer.

"I wanted kids." Stefaniya's voice is barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?" Yelena prompted for her to continue, though at the same time, not pressuring her to share.

"Yeah. But that was before..."

Stefaniya trails off, but Yelena and I both knew what she was referring to. Which specific event she was talking about, I'm not sure. But both would have been traumatizing enough to influence her decision.

"Where are you gonna go?" I ask the two.

"I have no clue."

"I don't know, either," Yelena shakes her head. "I don't really have anywhere to go back to, so I guess anywhere. And don't."

"Don't what?"

"You're going to give us some big hero speech, I can feel it."

"Speeches aren't really my thing."

"Huh."

"It was more like an invitation."

"To go to the Red Room and kill Dreykov?" Stefaniya pipes up.

"Yeah."

"Even though the Red Room is impossible to find and Dreykov is too slippery to kill?"

"Yup."

Yelena groans. "That sounds like a shitload of work."

"I'll drink to that," Stefaniya mutters. "Could be fun, though."

"Yup."

I rest my chin on my hand. "I saw where he put the keys," I say to Yelena.

"Top drawer, green cabinet."

Stefaniya looks lost. "Huh?"

Yelena chuckles and pulls Stefaniya up from her seat by her arm. "We'll fill you in in the car."

"Are we gonna steal another car?" Stefaniya asks excitedly. "Yes!"

Next chapter

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #black widow #black widow fanfiction #yelena belova #natasha romanov x fem!oc #marvel #marvel fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfiction #sapphic natasha romanoff

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morgan-reblog · 3 years

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Am starting to seriously envisage learning ASL, if not to communicating on a daily basis just so I can actually fucking communicate in the rare time where I get overwhelmed by emotion (generally being extremenly sad) because I know I just can’t speak correctly without just breaking down.

Would it actually be useful? No, since no one around me knows it, bity heck would it be easier for me to explain why am crying without breaking back into tears.

#morgan posts #my dad earlier asked what was wrong because I clearly had been crying #(still fucking am on intermittent tho)#and all I could do was just vague gesture towards my dog #but what caused my crying today wasnt really just that #just how my mom commented about her 'getting a shot' because she was frustrated that my dog wouldnt go upstair #shes scared of them now because she manage to hurt herself a couple of time #and she apparently didnt went upstair since this morning #yet this isnt a reason to put it that way!!!#I know she dont have much more to go #but fuck dont get surprise that I want to cry because of that #but i couldnt say all that #of course not #so my dad guessed i was just crying about the condition of my dog #which is also valid despite knowing she dont have much longer #am so tired of my very rare fit of crying like that being kind of dismessed #what do you want me to fucking do?!?!?#I already bottle everyone things up to cry alone in my room since I hate crying in front of others #i can probably count on one hand the last times it happen in the last couple of years #am just so fucking tired

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fckwritersblock · 3 years

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Because Of You

Stiles Stilinski x black!reader

Part 2 as requested of I Fucked Up

Word count: 1000+

(Unedited.)

"Hi you reached Y/N James! Sorry I missed your call but leave your name number and a message and I'll get back to you ASAP."

With shaky hands and a unsteady voice, Stiles breathed out.

"Y/N.................I'm sorry." 2:45pm

4 hrs ago he broke your heart.

2 hrs ago he left that voicemail.

Less than 20 minus ago his dad called him to tell him you have been taken to the hospital.

Stiles hung up immediately not bothering ask for details only jumping in his keep as quickly as possible and doing well over the speed limit all the way to the hospital.

"Werewolf or not, If you do not move out of my way I’ll kick your ass, Scott, I swear to god!"

Details.

You were in a car accident, a pretty bad one he had found out. What he couldn’t wrap his mind around was how Scott was already at the hospital and didn’t bother to call and tell him what happened in the first place. Stiles also couldn’t fathom why Scott was blocking your door like a guard dog.

"Stiles you can't!" Scott blocked his path once again.

"What do you mean I can't- Scott I have to see her. I have to make sure she's okay!"

"They um, it's family only right now." Scott lied but even that wasn't enough for Stiles.

"This is me, Scott." Stiles tried to push past his best friend once more.

"Stiles, you can't -" Scott gave a gentle push only for Stiles to forcefully shove him away.

"Get off of me!"

"She doesn't want to see you!" Scott confessed.

"What?" His voice wavered slightly.

Scott looked down, feeing bad for being the person to deliver this message. It was why he didn’t bother to tell him about your condition in the first place. You had told Alison to tell him not to.

"Y/n...she said," Scott sighed before giving Stiles an apologetic look. "she doesn't want to see you Stiles."

She doesn't want to see me?

Scott had to be mistaken.

"I don't believe you,"

With those last words, he pushed passed Scott and opened the door to her room. His eyes fell upon the slightly battered girl who laid i the hospital bed, awake and in mid conversation with Allison.

"Y/n! Oh thank god!"

Stiles stood in the door way as you stared at him, your face void of expression and all emotions.

"Im so glad you're okay. You scared me to death! What happened-" Stiles made a move to approach her when her words cut him off.

"Get out." You rasped.

"What?"

"Get. Out." You repeated this time visibly upset.

Stiles eyebrows were drawn together as his mouth opened and closed several times, not knowing what to say.

"Please. Go."

"Y/n, I-"

"I don't want you here." You shook her head vigorously.

Stiles continued to stare at you before making one last attempt at getting close to you .

"Get out!" You screamed.

Your vitals began to spike as your breathing increased sounding as if you were struggling.

"Ok!" An alarmed Allison popped up quickly handing Y/b the oxygen face mask. “Just breathe ok? I'll get him out. You focus on your breathing. Ok?”

The archer shoved Stiles out the room.

“See? He’s gone. I’m going to make sure he stays gone, ok? I’ll be right back.”

Closing the door behind them, she turned to Scott and Stiles.

"What are you doing here? Scott, what is he doing here?"

"I tried to stop him." Scott defended himself.

You obviously didn't try hard enough." Alison rolled her eyes.

"What did you want me to do? Drag him out kicking and screaming?!”

"If that's what it takes, yes!" The girl exclaimed.

"Hello!" Stiles flared his arms around in between the two. "Standing right here."

Glaring, Allison's head snapped in his direction.

"And you!” She scoffed. “You have some nerve.”

“Huh? What-“

"Did you forget you broke up with her today? Why would she possibly want to see you."

That's exactly what happened. He was so use to being with Y/n, caring for you, showing the world how much he loved you, that he wasn't use to playing the part of the bad guy. The person who hurt you.

"Yeah but, I-" Allison held up her hand silencing him.

"Look you guys need to get out of here. You think she's upset, wait until you see-"

"You!" Lydia stomped toward Stiles a fire in her eyes.

"Uh oh." Spoke the former couple in unison.

Lydia and Y/n were best friends. Like Scott and Stiles, the two girls grew up together and had forever been joined at the hip. 9 times out of 10, you saw one, you saw the other. So naturally, when you find out a stupid boy breaks your best friends heart, you want to break that stupid boys face.

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

"I'm here for Y/n-" Lydia scoffed cutting Stiles off.

"Oh now you care? Did you when you broke her heart? You played her like a video game."

"Ok Lydia that's enough-" The brunette attempted to stop her friend.

"Someone loves you unconditionally and thats how you repay them? By saying you never loved them. You know you got some nerve showing your face here."

"Lydia," Allison tone held warning as her eyes darted nervously between her and Stiles.

"You're the reason she's here in the first place." The strawberry blonde deadpanned.

Stiles froze.

"Scott what the hell is she talking about?"

"She had A panic attack." Scott started unsure of how to break the news.

"I saw her leave school in a hurry. She was crying....." Allison paused. "I guess she was so upset it triggered a panic attack which resulted in an asthma attack."

"And why was she crying?" Lydia questioned sarcastically glaring at Stiles.

That's when it hit him.

"Because of me.." he answered mouth suddenly becoming dry as he turned away, frustratedly running his hands through his hair.

Lydia gave a curt nod, glaring at him.

"Because of you."

—————-

So… There’s that! I don’t know what I’m doing, don’t know why I’m in an angsty mood but I am so...suffer with me lmao

I apologize for nothing and everything at the same time

Tag: @purpleprincess14 @hermijune

#stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles x poc reader #stiles oneshot #stiles stilinski #teen wolf x black!reader #teen wolf #scott mccall x reader #black!reader #scott mccall #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine

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pengychan · 3 years

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[Coco] Mind the Gap, Epilogue

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

Art by @swanpit.

[All chapters are tagged as ‘mind the gap’ on my blog.]

A/N: A family can be a mom, a dad, their baby, mom and dad's boyfriend who is also the baby's honorary uncle, a cat, and a total of five dogs.

***

“You know, you and your brothers had been baptized long before you were six months old.”

The speakers are not on, but Ernesto is still able to hear every word Imelda’s mother is uttering due to the disease that seems to affect many people the age of fifty - the certainty you absolutely need to yell into the phone for your words to be heard on the other side.

Imelda would very much appreciate not hearing them, if the way she drops the side of her head against the passenger side window with a thunk is anything to go by. “I am aware, mamá,” she almost groans. “But we’re doing it now, no? We’re on the way there, by the way, that’s what I called to let you kno--”

“And I am glad, but I cannot see any reason why you had to wait this long.”

Imelda’s head thunks back against the window just as Ernesto changes lanes to get past a car whose owner seems to be missing the foot that’s supposed to go on the speed pedal. Somewhere in the back, Héctor groans quietly.

“I had work to do, Héctor had work to do, and if we wanted to have the ceremony in Santa Cecilia we needed time to organize,” Imelda is gritting out. “I don’t see why we should have rushed things, considering that Coco is not at risk of imminent death. Nor has she had enough time to commit significant sins on the mortal plane.”

“Of course she has not, but you know it is important for babies to be baptized--”

“And besides, the Pope decided limbo is no longer canonical some ten years ago.”

“He also said it is no reason to delay--”

“Ah, we’re getting into a tunnel. Signal is bad. See you later,” Imelda snaps, and ends the call before dropping against the backrest with the expression of a luchadora who barely made it through the end of the match. “Remind me why cancelling the entire baptism out of spite is not a good idea?”

“Ceci worked really hard on the ropón and Coco looks beautiful in it,” Héctor speaks up.

“I already paid for the entire damn thing,” Ernesto supplies helpfully.

A chuckle. “Ay, we’re stuck, then,” Imelda says, and turns back to Ernesto. “... Sorry. What were you saying before the call again?”

“The concert next month. The latest piece Héctor wrote is a duet and we could use a woman’s voice. You should come with us, it will only be a couple of nights and you’d only need to be on stage for that song. Armando is already sold to the idea.”

It seems a very reasonable proposal to Ernesto, but Imelda frowns, pulling the car’s window down just enough to get some wind on her face. “I know he is, but I am not completely sold to the idea of leaving Coco in my brothers’ care for any amount of time.”

“It can’t be that ba--”

“You were not there when they came up with the self-rocking crib,” Héctor interjects from the back.

“The self-rocking crib?”

“Yes. Thankfully they tested it on Pepita first. She was not very happy about being ejected against the wall, but you know what they say about cats landing on their feet.”

“Ah.” Ernesto briefly debates whether he should tell them about the surprise the twins are planning. Not that he knows what the surprise actually is, they just briefly mentioned they were going back to Santa Cecilia a few days earlier than them to prepare… something.

Ah, it will be fine. Probably.

“Well, maybe we could find someone else to look after Coco,” he finally says instead. “Or keep an eye on them while they look after Coco. ”

Imelda hums. “I guess Ceci may be able to.”

“... Anyone else?”

“Don’t be like that, she’s her godmother.”

“Not yet she isn’t, you have time until tomorrow to change your min--”

“Your co-godparent,” Héctor pipes in. “Meaning that if anything happens to me and Imelda, you two will be morally obliged to step in and help her out. Together.”

“Uuugh. You both had better live long and healthy lives.”

A chuckle. “We’ll do our best,” Imelda promises, and for a time the car is quiet. Not for a long time, with Héctor speaking up again soon enough.

“Are we there yet?”

Ernesto sighs. And there he hoped he would stop asking. “No.”

“My leg is all pins and needles.”

“Wouldn’t have happened if you sat like a normal human.”

“But Coco needed me to hug the baby seat, she wouldn’t settle otherwise.”

“Well, she’s asleep now. You can let go.”

Sprawled across the back seat in order to keep his arms wrapped around the sleeping child on the baby seat, his left leg folded awkwardly beneath him, Héctor shoots a very offended look which Ernesto glimpses through the rear view mirror.

“No,” he declares with all the defiance of a father refusing to hand over his baby to King Herod himself to be slaughtered in the Massacre of the Innocents. Ernesto shrugs.

“Suit yourself,” he says, and keeps driving. A boring task right now, the road straight and mercifully empty. They should be in Santa Cecilia within a couple of hours, he estimates, give or take a few--

“Are we there yet?”

“Por Dios, I was prepared for the baby to be insufferable throughout the trip, but you’re worse,” Ernesto groans. On the passenger seat, Imelda rubs her temple.

“We could stop a few minutes, so Héctor can stretch his legs - don’t protest, you know you need it. I wouldn’t mind a break either,” she adds, and glances over at Ernesto. “Do you want me to drive the rest of the way? You’ve been at the wheel the entire time.”

“I can drive the rest of the way,” Héctor volunteers.

“Absolutely not,” Ernesto and Imelda say as one.

“Oh come on, if this is still about that thing with the level crossing in Colima, it was weeks ago and--”

“Coco is in the car,” Imelda reminds him, and Héctor promptly shuts up. When Ernesto pulls into a service station and stops the car in the small parking lot, he slowly disentangles himself from the baby seat. As Coco does not, in fact, bolt awake screaming in horrible pain the second he lets go, he finally gets off the car and takes a few steps.

Or rather, hops awkwardly on one foot while trying to regain sensation in his left leg. Imelda watches him hop towards the toilet with a chuckle, and turns to put a hand on Ernesto’s arm. “I’ll be getting coffee for both me and Héctor. Knowing you, I assume you’d prefer a beer.”

“I’m supposed to be driving--”

“Look at you, being all resonsible with a baby on board. But no, you’re not. I’ll take over from here,” she cuts him off, and Ernesto smiles.

“I’ll take two beers, then. One for me and one for the señorita in the back.”

Imelda laughs, and smacks his chest before she picks up her purse. “I’ll be right back. If the señorita in the back awakens and demands a drink, you know where the bottle and the thermos with her milk are.”

“I may have forgotten, Héctor only showed me sixteen times,” Ernesto calls after her, leaning against the side of the car. He arches his back to stretch, groans at the satisfying pop somewhere in his spine, and pulls out his phone. Sofía has sent him a photo showing the couch in Héctor and Imelda’s living room, currently occupied by four napping chihuahuas, an unimpressed-looking cat, and an upside-down Xolo dog.

Pet sitting them here is a lot better, she wrote. At least it’s not my shit they chew up. No shoes among the fatalities, though, so no need to castrate the big one. Tell Imelda that.

Ay, how unfortunate that Dante is getting the snip either way, Ernesto thinks, much like Diablo and Lobo did. He could have Clara and Zita spayed, true enough, but the procedure is more invasive and he’d rather spare them the ordeal if it can all be fixed, literally, by fixing Dante. They’ll book the appointment as soon as they get back, and then he and Héctor will have a drink in male solidarity. Soon, possibly before either Clara or Zita can--

“Bababababa!”

Ah, so the señorita is awake. Ernesto puts away the phone and sticks his head back into the car. “You called?” he asks, and Coco grins up at him with half a tooth, absolutely delighted. She reaches up with a squeal, and Ernesto grins back.

“You want me to pick you up? Is that it?”

“Aaaababah!”

“Is that a yes? I’ll take it as a yes.” Getting Coco out of her baby seat gets another delighted squeal out of her, chubby hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. He bounces her a bit and she gives a joyous laugh. “Ah, look at you. Don’t tell your papá I said it, but sometimes I get what he means when he--”

“BLEAGH!”

“Gah!”

Getting half-digested milk and apple puree all over his shirt is not what Ernesto expected to happen, but in retrospect he probably should have. To his credit he doesn’t give in to his first instinct, which is to drop the baby to tend to his shirt, so he will get to live another day. He just stands there, staring down at his ruined shirt, holding Coco at arms’ length.

Unaware - or maybe perfectly aware - of the mess she has made, Coco burps and laughs, legs dangling in what almost looks like a little dance. Ernesto sighs, and stares at her in the eye. “I take that back,” he informs her. Coco giggles.

“... I suspect I know what that look means. I will not be the one to change your diaper.”

“Paaa.”

“Yes, exactly. We’ll leave it to your--”

“She’s awake! She didn’t cry, did she? Coco! Papá is here!”

“Paaaaaaaa!”

Héctor takes Coco from Ernesto’s hands with a wide smile, not even noticing the condition his shirt is in, and twirls around with her in his arms, making her laugh harder. Ernesto would warn him not to spin too much, but it seems she’d already emptied her stomach, the little demon. In the end he just scoffs, gives her an offended look she absolutely ignores, and grabs a clean shirt from his luggage in the back of the car before he heads for the toilets to try and somewhat salvage the one he’s wearing. Maybe if he washes off the worst of it now, his mother will know how to fix the rest. He’s halfway to the toilets when Imelda calls out.

"Here's your beer, it's not as cold as you like it but-- ah. I see Coco got you."

Ernesto turns to meet her gaze, his expression solemn. “I am afraid your mother was right.”

“... Qué?”

“You’re too late. Your daughter has now definitely sinned on this mortal plane,” he declares. “Do you know how much I paid for this shirt?”

Imelda raises an eyebrow. “Ah, more than you should have. It doesn’t fit you that well. You should just arrive at your parents’ place shirtless. They’re used to seeing you shirtless by now,” she adds, and laughs at Ernesto’s indignant sputtering as he informs her that was low.

But then she kisses him and promises she will keep his beer in the ice box fridge until he’s back, and he can find it in himself to forgive the affront after all.

***

“... And this my mamá, see? Emilia. She is your other abuela, can you say abuela?”

“Abbwaba!”

“Heh. Close enough, querida. Close enough”

Sitting cross-legged before his parents’ grave, with Coco nestled comfortably in his arms, Héctor kisses his daughter’s head before turning back to the gravestone with a small smile. Ricardo and Emilia Rivera are smiling back from it, a few years younger than they were when they died.

Finding that photo was a struggle, because the gas leak that destroyed his home spared none of the family albums. Ernesto nearly tore down his own home, but in the end he was able to dig up a bunch of photographs from one of their very last Nativity plays - and among them was one photo of Héctor, looking a little embarrassed in his angel wings and fake halo, with his parents beaming at either side of him.

The original is now proudly displayed in the living room in Mexico City; Imelda’s parents have a copy, which Héctor always finds on their ofrenda when he and Imelda come to spend Día de los Muertos with them. Two cut-outs from a third copy are now gracing their gravestone.

I should make more copies. Just in case.

In his arms Coco squeals, and holds out a chubby hand towards the smiling faces of her grandparents. Héctor’s somewhat dampened smile brightens again.

“Mamá, papá, meet Coco. She’s very happy to meet you.” He bounces the child a little in his arms. “She crawls everywhere and puts everything in her mouth, just like you said I did. And she's got my eyes! Yours, mamá. Not the nose, thank God - no offense, papá, but… come on.” He laughs a little. “Ay, I shouldn’t complain. I mostly grew into it, like you said I would. I’m sorry you didn’t get to see that you were right. I’m sorry you don’t get to be here today.”

Héctor pauses a moment, and kisses Coco’s head one more time before he speaks again. “... I wish you were here to give me advice, but I’ll do my best to be as good a parent as you were. I, uh. Well, my family is not really traditional now, I guess. I don’t know if you’d approve. I don’t know if you’d understand. I’m both relieved and sad I may never get to know, and then sad I’m relieved at all because-- either way, I wish you were here.”

He pauses, and swallows. Oblivious to the painful lump in her father’s throat, Coco has managed to grab a flower and is trying to put it in her mouth. He takes it out of her hand gently, placing it back before the grave. “But I wanted to tell you, I believe I am doing the right thing. And I am very happy. We are all very happy, and doing our best, and that… that is the most important thing, I think.”

Their smiling faces stare back, forever unchanging. He never got to see their bodies - he was told it was for the best - and now he is glad of that. This is how he wants to remember them: whole, and alive, and always smiling. They would smile today seeing their granddaughter, he’s sure. He likes to think that somewhere, they still are.

Coco sure is smiling plenty for someone with only half a tooth, still babbling and trying to reach out for the faces on the gravestone. Héctor holds her a bit closer, and her hands press on the glass over the photos like she’s trying to grab those smiles for herself.

“Abbwaba,” she chirps, and laughs like someone just told a really great joke.

Must be papá. Mamá’s jokes were terrible, Héctor thinks, and when Coco turns to look at him again, laughing, he laughs just as hard.

***

“Oh, you look so handsome!”

That is something Ernesto usually appreciates hearing - he appreciates it very much, truth be told - but it does lose some of its appeal when the person saying it is your mother as she circles you to make sure your jacket looks absolutely spotless.

“Uh, yes. So, are we ready to--”

“Isn’t he handsome, Estéban?”

Estéban de la Cruz, who clearly needs help getting ready far more than Ernesto ever did - anything vaguely more elegant than an undershirt seems to make him ill at ease - glances over and gives him a shrug that probably translates to ‘I have to listen to this every day, now it’s your turn’.

“Looking good,” is all he says, causing Ernesto to blink. This kind of thing, his father looking at him and talking to him like a normal specimen of homo sapiens, is something he has yet to get entirely used to. He remembers times when he saw his father sitting on the couch while staring at the wall in an alcohol-induced stupor, and being both relieved and frustrated by it. A part of him rejoiced at the chance to just pass by unnoticed and spare himself one of his moods, while the other wanted to grab him by the shirt and shake him, knowing full well it would amount to suicide.

I am here, damn you. I’m right here. Look at me.

“So handsome,” Adela repeats for the eleventh time, snapping him from his reminiscence. “You know, you should find someone.”

As his father looks suddenly very busy fiddling with the buttons of his jacket, Ernesto holds back a groan. “Mamá, can we not--”

“You know Mirela’s son? He’s a nice boy too, and word is that he also may be--”

Oh no. No no no no no, this is not happening.

“Ay, look at the time, I really need to go! See you in church!” Ernesto yells, and sprints to the door, almost forgetting to pick up the sack of coins on his way out.

***

“That’s a very generous bolo.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. Ceci would never let me hear the end of it if I gave anything less.”

“Ah, don't be modest. You wanted to be a good godfather and bring plenty of good fortune to your goddaugh--"

“No, it was definitely Ceci."

"Ah." As children swarm around them to pick up the frankly astounding amount of coins Ernesto has scattered around, Héctor laughs and puts an arm around his shoulders. “Ay, don’t worry, mi amigo. I have a song in mind that will more than make up for your losses.”

Ernesto, newly-minted godfather, snorts. “It had better,” he says, elbowing him in the ribs, but his lips are already curling in a smile. Héctor lets out a yelp that’s mostly for show, and looks over to where Imelda is standing, clad in a beautiful dress Ceci insists on tailoring just for her along with Coco’s pure white ropón.

“No, no purple, for God’s sake,” he remembers Ceci muttering as she took Imelda’s measures. “This is your child’s christening, not Lent!”

Imelda does favor purple over most colors, but she looks stunning in the blue dress as she speaks to guests, Coco squirming and giggling in her arms as Óscar and Felipe make faces at her. She gets to make some noise now, after being on her best behavior through… most of the ceremony, a few drum-shattering shrieks aside. Héctor finds himself smiling dreamily.

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” he sighs, and Ernesto raises an eyebrow.

“Imelda, or Coco?”

“Both.”

“Heh. Yes,” Ernesto concedes. For a few more moments they just look on, side by side. For just a split second Héctor allows himself to wish circumstances would allow him to grab Ernesto’s hand, but he knows better than that; they will not go out of their way to hide, but they have got to be practical. If there is anyone present at the moment they may try to come clean to first, it’s probably-- ah, speaking of them…

“Ernesto?”

“Mmh?”

“The twins are planning something during the reception, aren’t they?”

“Of course they are. It may or may not involve explosive material.”

“Por Dios, tell me you talked them out of it!”

“Why would I? I like fireworks.”

To the boys’ credit, the display is pretty spectacular. The only casualty is a perfectly replaceable tablecloth, and Coco’s sheer delight as she claps at the lights, nestled in her grandmother’s arms, is well worth the loss.

It also causes enough of a distraction for the three of them to slip their arms under the table and hold onto each other’s hands for a few moments, squeezing tight.

***

“Home, sweet home!”

Héctor’s dramatic declaration would be more accurate as ‘bed sweet bed’, really. When they made it back to their apartment it felt anything but sweet, with a baby cranky from the long trip and five dogs, plus a cat, either very offended by their absence or bouncing off the walls, frantic for their attention after a grand total of two hours on their own after Sofía left.

It took about an hour to put down their things, feed the pets, feed the baby, take the dogs out and put Coco in her crib. Then, and only then, can the three of them collapse on the bed and breathe in a sigh of relief.

“We survived,” Ernesto mutters into the pillow.

“Seems like it,” Héctor groans. “Now we can sleep.”

And then, of course, Coco starts crying. It takes Imelda approximately half a minute to pick her up, decide she’s not going to be able to keep standing on her own two feet long enough to soothe her, and return to their bed with her. She lays down with her and Coco settles quickly, nestled securely in her arms. She never moves around when asleep and Pepita is keeping watch as always, so it’s safe enough, Imelda reasons with a yawn. She only realizes she forgot to close the door when Pepita jumps in, curling up next to Coco. She groans.

“For the love of God, close the door before--”

“BOOF!”

“Yip! Yip! Yip!”

“Agh-- Dante, no, wait--” Héctor trails off with a yelp when Dante jumps up on the bed, landing across his legs and just barely missing his crotch with a clumsy paw. Out of the corner of her eye, Imelda notices Ernesto reaching down.

No dogs on the bed, she wants to say, but Dante is already up and she is tired enough to admit defeat, at least this once. She sighs and shushes Coco while she falls back asleep, trying to ignore Ernesto’s little monsters as they snuffle around to find a spot to snooze. Once they finally settle, Imelda closes her eyes and tries to sleep. And tries. And tries.

On the pillow, Pepita is purring away. The dogs are mostly silent, except for the occasional twitch and half-snore. Coco is suckling on her thumb as she sleeps, Héctor is breathing with his mouth open as usual, and Ernesto is snoring softly behind her. She could blame any of those things for the lack of sleep, but she knows that’s not it.

Finally, quiet and careful to stir no one, Imelda half-sits and looks across the bed she used to share with Héctor and no one else, and that used to feel so large.

It’s quite crowded now, with the three of them and Coco resting on it, Héctors’ limbs splayed in all directions and Ernesto a solid presence behind her, their pets filling up all remaining space. Not a single gap left.

It is perfect. It is whole.

It is home.

Imelda nods silently, and leans back down. She tucks a lock of hair behind Coco’s ear, kisses her forehead, and closes her eyes with a sated smile.

***

Aaaand it's over, yet another fic that got out of hand and ended up at least three times longer than planned! Hope you enjoyed the read as much as I enjoyed writing it.

(Also, letting a baby sleep in the Big Bed with mom, dad, their boyfriend who is also a honorary uncle, their cat and their five dogs is really cute in fiction, but can go very wrong in reality if someone turns in their sleep. Don't do that.)

#pixar coco #ernesto de la cruz #hector rivera #imelda rivera #coco #mind the gap

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

❛ ABOUT AN OVERPROTECTIVE DAD AND HIS FOUR PITBULLS ❜

with Ezekiel Reyes and the crew.

Request: what about ez reyes daughter imagine that the Mayans you know her uncles find out she has a crush like how would they react guessing there so overprotective and everything.

BY ANON

Warnings: someone, please, tell the guys to chill the f* down.

Word count: about 1k.

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: @angels-reyes.

Masterlist.

“WHO IS HIM?”

Angel hits the pool table with both palms, making you jump on your feet for a second. It's the first time you see your tío be this angry. Last night, your father caught you in a lie. You told him you were going to Sharon's house to study, but you went to a date. Coco, Gilly and Creeper are by his side, while your EZ is sitting on the table cross-armed.

“Carnal, take it easy… I'm sure you lied to your pop a lot of times”.

“YES, BUT I WAS A PENDEJO, SHE'S A GOOD GIRL”.

“Don't forget she's my daughter, Angel. Calm down”.

“I CAN'T FORGET THAT MAYBE HE'S A PSYCHO!” Angel's eyes are opened to the limits, turning his face to his little brother who doesn't look worried.

“Okay, tío, you're a drama queen”. You mutter rolling your eyes, seeing how your father walks towards you.

“Is your boyfriend…?”

“Dad, I do—”.

“I SWEAR TO GOD, THAT IF YOU DON'T START TO SPEAK, I'M GONNA FUCKING GO TO YOUR SCHOOL AND ASK ALL THESE MADAFAKAS WHO THE FUCK IS DATING MI PEQUEÑO DULCE”.

“Yo, man! You need a fucking linden tea. Calm down…” Gilly says palming his back, making you shake under his shouts.

You're about to cry, with your lower lip beginning to tremble, when your father hugs you hiding your face onto his chest. You told him that you were sorry a thousand times, and that you're not going to do it again. At least, to avoid this kind of interrogatory with your tíos losing their minds. Leaving a kiss on your head, EZ takes you to the closer chair to sit you down there, squatting in front of you and holding your hands.

“Baby, we're just… worried about you. You know what we do, and that… there are many people that want to hurt us. Just tell us who he is. We will ask Frankie to… check if his family is legal, and that they don't want to use you against us”.

“Dad, why are you… why are you al-always thinking about the worse?”

“Because we're fucking Mayans, not hermanitas de la caridad”. (Sisters of charity). Angel speaks then, walking towards you. Letting a heavy snort escape from his lips, he leans forward adopting the same position of his brother. “Mi pequeño dulce, I love you. You know how much, and… yes, maybe I'm a little jealous… But I'm worried about you”.

“Can you imagine my life without you? Because I don't. Neither of us don't. Princesa, talk to us, please. I promise I'll not be one… of this overprotect—”.

“Dad, you already are a super overprotective father. Without keeping in mind these… four pitbulls always following you everywhere”.

“You like dogs, kid, don't lie”. Creeper clicks his tongue, before drawing a soft smile on his lips.

“If something bad happens to you, I die, mi amor”.

You have a look at your tíos, before putting your eyes on your father's. They're right. They're pretty right, and you didn't think about it last night. You just know him from school, he looks like a good guy. But your tíos too, and you know what they do.

“His name is Mateo Ramos, from Santa Madre, but we're together in Math class”.

“Math... class?” Angel asks, somewhat confused.

“Yeah… he's the kind of boy you would like to bully”.

The five men break into laughs, understanding why you didn't tell anything about him or his family. You're not ashamed, but you really like him and you were sure that they would make some fun about a badass girl dating a nerd.

“Looks like you have a new best friend, lil'bro”. Angel teases your father by hitting his left shoulder.

“He… took me to a bar… with… open mic, to… read poems”.

“AWWWW, LOOK AT HIM. TODO UN GALÁN, CARNAL”. (A prince, brother) Coco says exaggeratedly.

And probably, you would punch him on the face if it was another situation, but seeing your father smiling like an idiot melts your heart.

“Mateo told me that… maybe we could go again… tomorrow night”. You say with pursed lips and a shy tone of voice, lowering your gaze to your father's fingers caressing your hands.

“Okay”. EZ just nods.

“‘Okay?’ What does it… means?”

“That you can go, but with a condition”. Raising up your eyes to your father, you wait for it. “I'll pick you up to come back home”.

“C'mon, man! Let the ner—Mateo earn a kiss on the front door”. Angel hits him again, making your father frown at him.

“I want you at home at eleven, okay? That's the condition. And if I text you, you tex—”

“He's not gonna text you, mami, don' worry 'bout'ha”. Coco shakes his head palming the back of the younger Reyes.

“Do you need money?” EZ finally asks, rolling his eyes annoyed because of his brothers.

“I got twenty bucks”.

“Not enough”. He replies, taking off his wallet to give you fifty more.

“Dad, we're ju—”.

“Nah, buy something cool for him to make his nose bleed”. Angel says adding another fifty. “We can pick you up in the hospi—”.

“Tío Angel, if you don't stop of bully him, I'm gonna fucking punch your mouth”.

“I would like to see you trying, mi dulcecito”.

@starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @destynelseclipsa @sheeshgivemeabreak @abbiesthings @knowles-morgan @lady-pswrld @minnicelli @marquelapage @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @jadesamhart @mycupoffanfiction @claytoncardenasbabymama

✨ Tag list:

If you want to be tagged, send me a message!

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #ezekiel reyes #ezekiel reyes x reader #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes

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blueaura · 3 years

Text

Lost and Found Ch. 6

A/N: I finally finished it! I apologise for the delay but GISH (that’s all I’m gonna say). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It’s after midnight here, and I have class in the morning so I’m off to sleep. Thanks to everyone who’s read it this far. As always, any tips and suggestions are welcome. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading!

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise.

Word Count: 2.1k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Y/N waited patiently. For 3 whole minutes.

“You want me to trust you, right?” It was a rhetorical question but the brothers still nodded, looking suitably chastised.

Dean sighed, frustrated at his lack of control in the situation. He looked at Sam who just looked worriedly at Y/N, which reminded Dean that she had been crying and he should probably check if she was alright.

“Let’s go inside first, you’re not even wearing shoes,” Dean said lightly, trying to subtly get Y/N out of the cold. She eyed him suspiciously but agreed to go inside. Her feet were cold but Dean didn’t have to know that. The door closed behind them as they made their way inside.

“You doing okay?” Dean not-so-subtly tried to change the subject, but Y/N was just not having it. She merely looked at the hunter and raised her eyebrows, waiting for a response to her previous inquiry.

He looked frustratedly at his brother and sharply exhaled, feeling the exhaustion catch up to him.

“Our friend thinks you might be in danger,” Dean started slowly. “He isn’t convinced that you being here on the same hunt as us is a coincidence. Which, you know, I can’t really blame him. Coincidences aren’t too common in our line of work. Even more so if we’re to believe the whole paternity… aspect of the situation – yes, I know nothing is confirmed yet,” he interrupted before she could protest. She glared at the wall angrily.

“Look, we have to work under the assumption that it is true for the moment, at least until we know more. It’s better to play it safe instead of having a false sense of security. Now, you being related to us makes you a target, so we need to keep you safe. So, you need to decide now – you wanna come with us or are we putting extra security measures at Jody’s?”

“Who’s this friend of yours? And how do you even plan on ‘knowing more’? Last I checked, you were still legally dead!” she burst out. “And just to remind you, I’m not some helpless child. I’ve survived on my own for years, I don’t need your protection.” She knew she was being spiteful, but she pushed down the pang of guilt that was creeping in.

Sam waited for Dean to explode. He knew his brother very well and Dean didn’t do the ‘talking reasonably’ thing for too long. He was actually proud of Dean for keeping his composure for so long. He knew that if it was him who was in danger, Dean would have knocked him out and dragged him to the bunker if necessary. He could just imagine how well that approach would work with Y/N. So, Sam waited to see how his brother would react, prepared to jump in and salvage the situation if needed. But again, Dean surprised him.

He walked up to where she was sitting on Sam’s bed and knelt in front of her, forcing her to look at him instead of the wall. “I know you’re good at taking care of yourself, alright? You wanna cut out the bullshit and get real with me for a second? You’re strong and resourceful, yes – but kid, this is a different ball game we play here. Hunters who have had years and years of experience don’t survive long in our world. I just want to keep you safe, that’s all. Just… work with me here Y/N.”

“We promise we will figure everything out. Just come with us, please,” Sam chimed in, puppy dog eyes in full effect.

Y/N’s nails dug into her palms as she tried to process everything. She felt Dean’s hands take her own, rubbing over the crescent shaped indents she created.

“As for your other questions – Our friend is Cas, or Castiel. He’s an angel, and I believe he can help with the whole getting answers thing. He can explain how later, if you agree to come back home with us. What do you say, kiddo? We taking a road trip home to Kansas or am I ringing up Jody about setting up a guest room? It’s your choice, but I for one need to know if I should be summoning Sandra’s ghost and yelling at her for not telling me about my daughter.”

Dean’s voice was gruff with emotion and Sam almost felt like he was intruding a private moment, but then Y/N looked at him – with Dean’s eyes, he realized – and he felt the familiar protective instinct flare up, only a thousand times worse. He’d always been the little brother, the one who needed to be protected, and while he felt protective over his big brother, he also knew Dean could take care of himself. So, this new dynamic was something of an adjustment, and he wondered if Dean had felt like this his entire life. He couldn’t imagine how he hid it so well.

“Fine,” the soft voice broke the tense silence in the room. Y/N refused to make eye contact, even with Dean kneeling in front of her. His knees had started to hurt but he didn’t care. He was close to a breakthrough and he could feel it. The words registered with the brothers and Dean’s hands tightened over Y/N’s as they waited for her to continue.

“I’ll go with you… but only for now. I don’t promise anything. I can’t. And, if it isn’t working, I’m out. Those are my conditions,” she somehow got the words out, hands shaking even in Dean’s grip.

Dean wasn’t happy with it, but as he looked at Sam, he knew this was the best he was gonna get for now. He opened his mouth to agree with her, even if it was just to get her to the damn bunker and to safety, when she continued.

“And can we press pause on the family talk? I need to talk to your friend first before I make a decision on that subject,” her voice was barely there, but she ignored Dean’s clenched jaw in favour of getting the words out. She needed his reassurance that he wouldn’t pressure her to take whatever angelic DNA test he had in mind. Maybe she would feel better after talking to the angel, which – she couldn’t believe she was gonna meet an actual angel – but until then, she didn’t want to hear about it. She needed to process the information first.

“Please,” she said before Dean could interrupt. Even Sam looked bummed at her request but her at least understood where she was coming from. He had, after all, seen her epic break down earlier. She forced herself to ignore the hurt look in Dean’s eyes and tried to remind herself that – no, she didn’t care about these guys more than any other tentative friends, but it was hard. The hurt vanished and hid behind the classic Dean mask, as he tried to smile back at her, and she felt even worse if that was possible.

“Well, we have a long drive ahead of us so let me know if you change your mind,” he cleared his throat as he stood up and walked to the fridge in search of another beer.

“We’ll head out in the morning after breakfast. That reminds me, you hungry Y/N? None of us technically had dinner. I can run out and grab us something,” Sam tried to diffuse the tension in the room.

Y/N was hungry. They had split up during the day and she had been running low on cash the past couple of days, making her skip lunch that afternoon. So, the last thing she had eaten was the breakfast the Winchesters had provided for her. She usually had a better control of her hunger – life on the streets wasn’t the best for a young girl – but the boys had been feeding her regularly during their time together, barring that afternoon, so her body had grown accustomed to the food. Which was why, as soon as she was reminded of it, her stomach grumbled loudly, making Sam smile as her face grew red with embarrassment. She didn’t want to take advantage of their generosity, so she just told Sam to get whatever he wanted to eat. She would be grateful for any food they provided for her.

“Get extra food today, Sammy. I worked up an appetite earlier.” Dean had found it odd that Y/N never asked for anything but now it made sense. He knew that the kid wouldn’t let them know if she wanted more food, he recognized that particular trait from his own childhood – which made him want to throttle Sandra. The Sandy he knew was cold and calculating, but she also had a good heart. He couldn’t figure out why she would raise a kid in the hunting life, and if she was alive, he would have been tempted to knock some sense into her. It didn’t seem like she was the most affectionate mother either, if Y/N’s reactions were anything to go by. He didn’t miss the flinch when he grabbed her hands earlier, and the thought of her hurt made him see red.

Sam merely nodded at his brother’s request, seeing through the thin excuse. He looked at Y/N and decided to forgo his normal healthy food in favour of some greasy goodness instead. The kid deserved a treat. Grabbing the keys for the Impala, he walked out and the door shut behind him, leaving Y/N and Dean awkwardly standing around in the room.

“How did you know her?” Y/N’s voice seemed to echo in the room. Dean instantly knew who she was talking about.

“I met her when I was seventeen. She saved my ass actually. I was on a hunt with my Dad and it was just us that day. It was ghouls, I think. Dad was knocked out and I was outnumbered but then she came in and kicked their asses. She was a brilliant hunter you know,” Dean smiled softly at the memory.

“Anyway, we got to talking and realized that we had a lot in common. So, we kept in touch. We would get together when we were in the same town but both of us knew we didn’t want anything serious. Honestly, I never pictured her having kids. She didn’t seem to want any at that time but I guess people change.”

“No, they don’t,” she replied as a tear slid down her cheek. She had cried more that day than she had in the past four years and it frustrated her to no end. Normally, she knew how to numb herself, but something about the Winchesters made her want to tell them everything and she hated it, hated feeling so weak. If this was what living with them was going to be like, she wanted out already.

Dean’s heart dropped at Y/N’s words. He hated that she grew up feeling so alone and he promised himself that he would give that kid a home, regardless of whether she was his.

They sat in silence after that, but surprisingly it wasn’t uncomfortable. Y/N was almost dozing off again when Sam returned with the food. The heavenly smell of burgers jerked her wide awake and Dean tried to hide his grin at her reaction.

She waited until Sam and Dean had taken their fill before moving to take a small portion of fries with her burger, making the boys look at each other worriedly. Clearly, things were worse than they had imagined. They had a long road ahead of them.

After dinner, it was decided that they would move out first thing in the morning and Dean proposed getting some shut eye. Neither of them wanted to let Y/N out of their sight but one raised eyebrow from her had them surrendering and she went back to her own room to sleep. If the brothers got up periodically to check on her throughout the night, she didn’t have to know that.

The next morning, she nervously picked at her duffle bag as the brothers handled the check out. This was it, her last chance at backing out. She could make a run for it and they wouldn’t know until it was too late, but her feet remained planted to the ground. Sam walked out first, Dean following closely. No backing out now. Dean opened the trunk and threw their stuff in, and they all shuffled into the car – Dean in the driver’s seat, Sam beside him and Y/N sat stiffly in the back seat.

Sam turned around to look at her, silently asking if she was alright. She nodded slightly but continued to fidget in her seat. Dean caught her eye in the rear-view mirror and held her gaze for a minute before he started the car. Over the loud rumble of the engine he said, “Let’s go home, kiddo.”

Chapter 7

TAGS: @vicmc624 @carisi-sonny @zizzlekwum @geekqueen5 @mondefantastique @lemondropirwin @hamildork @mrswhozeewhatsis

If anyone else would like to be tagged, please send me an ask (: Thanks for reading!

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #platonic relationships #Cee tries to write

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spectrumed · 3 years

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3. sadness

Don’t be like that. Be like this, or be that other thing. Be unique, but don’t be too unique. Fit in, but try to be a rebel. Be a renegade, but don’t rock the boat. Don’t know what you are supposed to be? What? Do you have imposter syndrome or something? Just be yourself, but, y’know, sand down the edges a little bit. Be friendlier. Be the kind of person everyone likes. Be the life of the party! Don’t be some shut-in, some crazy cat-lady with absolutely zero social life. Don’t be sad. Don’t burden others with your sadness. Work to maximise the total happiness of your community. A smile goes a long way. Can’t smile? You really can’t help but being a sourpuss all the time? Well, I guess maybe that if you can’t help but stay in a perpetual bad mood bringing everyone else down… then maybe you should just stay isolated? Better stay alone, away from others. You’re toxic. You’re just so damned sad. You really must be quarantined.

I am sad, a lot of the time. Are you? But, no, you can’t just admit that you are sad. Don’t be a buzzkill, try to inject a little humour into the things you say. You can admit you’re depressed, if you do so with a joke. Don’t let others know you’re being sincere. Ironic jokes work the best, don’t they? They let you confess your secret gloom to everyone around, but they’ll never know just how serious you’re being. With a wink of the eye, any candid expression of your inner turmoil can become a hilarious post-modern gag. Are they or are they not telling the truth? Oh, I’ll never tell! And it will all work out excellent, up until the day you commit suicide. But every comedian’s time in the limelight has to end at some point, right?

This blog is supposed to be about autism spectrum disorder, why am I suddenly discussing depression? Well, I suppose that it is time we bring to the table this little thing called comorbidity. Psychology is messy. Some would argue that it is barely even a real scientific field (I tend to think that it is the best thing we have, but I acknowledge that in places, psychology is fundamentally flawed.) You may have thought that you’d get just one diagnosis. One simple label that you can work through and overcome. You’re bipolar, now go deal with it! But instead, you find yourself with a whole fistful of diagnoses. What to hear my proud list of diagnoses? Oh, please, don’t think because I am listing them this one certain way, I put them in order of relevancy to me. I love all of my diagnoses equally.

My diagnoses are:

Generalised Anxiety Disorder (GAD)

Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD)

Agoraphobia

Possible Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

Asperger syndrome (AS)

No, I was never officially diagnosed with depression, but largely because, at the time I received these diagnoses, my depression was so blatant that it felt as if I was walking around with a cloud of miasma surrounding at all times. Imagine me as Pig-Pen from Peanuts, but instead of being covered in dirt, I was covered in the funk of melancholy. And whatever treatment I would eventually go on to receive (and still am receiving to this day,) would go about treating my anxiety first, and hopefully, the depression would give in alongside the anxiety. It has, for the most part, though, I still feel the presence of that black dog from time to time. I also got only a half-hearted potential diagnosis of OCD, but later, during a trial of an antidepressant that had a freakishly negative impact on my psyche, it blossomed into a fully-grown attention-craving condition. Turns out that OCD can be a real hog for the spotlight, really not allowing any of the other diagnoses to take their turn on stage. Thankfully, when I got off that particular antidepressant, those symptoms stopped, but it has led me to be far more aware of my internal obsessive-compulsive thought patterns. For me, OCD largely lacks physical compulsions, but my mind is ablaze with intrusive thoughts, and I will routinely force myself to repeat certain phrases in my head to make them go away. The funny thing is, I never realised that wasn’t normal.

Diagnoses are an attempt to map out a spiders’ web of problems. Things come hand in hand. While I’m no psychologist, I can speak from the perspective of someone who has been through the psychiatric process, which I suppose, lends me a certain kind of expertise, doesn’t it? Maybe it really doesn’t. Maybe I’m just throwing words out there, thinking that I could serve a good purpose, but instead all I am doing is contributing to this great onslaught of digital disinformation we’re all suffering under. But I’m probably just too doubtful of myself. I am speaking about myself, after all. I’ve got first-hand experience in being myself. I know exactly what it feels like to own this skin, these bones, this heart, and this mushy brain of mine. I’m not claiming to know everything. I’m just claiming to know about this one sad individual writing this hoping it might allow someone to reblog my posts with the hashtag “relatable” one day.

Anxiety runs in my family. The neurosis demon gets passed down from generation to generation, only occasionally skipping a beat. My mother and I share many of the same neurotic quirks, though, she has for the most part of her life not had it to quite the excessive degree that I have it. I really took that genetic predisposition for anxiety and ran with it. And while I’m the only person in my family to have gotten diagnosed as being “on the spectrum,” there are a few members that I kinda sort of in a way actually quite seriously suspect might also be here somewhere on the spectrum. Still, as always goes with diagnosing, there’s no point in doing it unless the person is in need of some kind of treatment. I wholeheartedly believe that most people on the planet belong to one spectrum, be it an autism spectrum, a bipolar spectrum, a narcissism spectrum, even a schizophrenic spectrum, but diagnoses should be exclusively reserved for those who need psychiatric care. The world is a spectrum, and it’s worth noting that the terms “sane” and “insane” do not alone capture the complexity of the human psyche. A person can appear perfectly sensible, yet at some point in their life, they may have been a real silly little bugger who thought that their pet hamster was the reincarnation of the Buddha. Just as with physical health, one can struggle with one's mental health for one period in their life, only to later on in life feel utterly and entirely mentally healthy. Or, well, sadly in a lot of cases, people who were perfectly mentally healthy may suddenly become diagnosed with dementia. But that’s really sad, so let’s not talk about that.

Is it all genetic? Well, no. Or well, maybe? In regards to autism, I am pretty sure that, yes, it is genetic. While, yes, I do admit that I’m just a dummy on the internet, so what do I really know? And the brain is such a complex bit of mushy meat, so I could always be proven wrong. Though, I tend towards thinking that there most likely is principally a genetic factor to conditions like autism, or attention deficit disorder (and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder,) or things like bipolar disorder. But with anxiety, quite frankly, I can’t say how much of it is nurture and how much of it is nature. I mentioned that my mother and I share many of the same neurotic quirks, so that would imply that there is something in one's genes that can make some more prone to anxiety than others, but my mother does not struggle with agoraphobia, nor does she seem to have any obsessive-compulsive tendencies. In fact, in my family, even those that exhibit some element of heightened anxiety, they don’t seem to show any milder symptoms of this kind. I can’t help but feel as if these conditions I gained through that tortuous period of every boy’s and girl’s (and boy-girl’s) life is called puberty. I hate to conform to stereotypes but I did indeed hate being a teenager. Believe it or not, I wasn’t a jock, and no, I didn’t go to parties. I mostly spent my time crying.

The question that no doubt plagues every movie psychiatrist to no end is what kind of trauma must a person undergo to make them go mad? Abusive parents? Abusive uncles? Abusive teachers? Abusive dogs? Honestly, to be an adult raising a child must be rough, considering how any mistake you make might suddenly turn your little babe into a future serial killer. Now, there’s no doubt that there are some seriously terrible parents out there, and that a lot of people have mental woes that definitely came about due to their parents and their abysmal lack of parental care. But generally, how much can you actually blame on your parents? We know the cliché, let’s go sit down on the sofa and complain to our Freudian hack-shrink all about those times as a kid our dad missed the big game, or that time our mother embarrassed us in front of all of our friends. I have plenty of things to complain about my parents, like I believe we all have. Our parents are flawed, messy human beings, of course they occasionally made mistakes throughout our upbringings. But is that nearly enough to turn a person mentally ill? Putting up with an at times really embarrassing mom? No, I don’t think so. And of course, there are some real awful parents out there, I’m not doubting that. Trust me, I’m a fan of true crime, so I’ve heard some real grizzly stories of what some kids are forced to grow up with. But I am thinking that those instances are more rare than they are common. Most people with mental illnesses can most likely not blame their parents.

How ‘bout bullies? Yes, them bullies. Them awful mean bullies that made all of our lives so painful. It’s funny, it seems like every school had their own fair share of bullies, and yet no-one as an adult ever comes forward to admit that they themselves were the bullies. It’s almost like as if no-one ever thinks of themselves as being a bully, even when they are throwing rocks at that weird chubby kid with blonde hair who happens to be named Fredrik and who just wants to be left alone. Was I bullied? Well… yes. But I can’t say I got the brunt of it. I got bullied, but overall I’d say I only ever had it slightly worse than most people. I was still quite tall, typically taller than my classmates growing up, and for the most part I could roll with the punches. If you really want to talk about a kid I knew growing up that got bullied, let me tell you about this kid who knew all the right dances for all the right Britney Spears songs. He was gay, I think. Not quite old enough to have come out, I suspect, but, well... He liked all the female pop stars, but not in that way of wanting to kiss them and fondle their boobies, but in the “I want to sound just like them when I grow up” sort of way. I don’t know what happened to him (or them, or her, depending on how they identify now,) but that was real bullying. Like most folks, I found myself stuck in that limbo of seeing others get bullied far worse than me and being too cowardly to intervene, in fears that I’d end up taking their place. Yes, isn’t school just a marvellous place? It’s a wonder any of us turn out okay.

No, I think that, fundamentally, the problems I have arose with myself. This, blaming myself, is not something that I am unused to doing. I have a long history of blaming myself, that’s really the problem. As a teenager I knew that I was different, and I was frightened and scared of being exposed. I didn’t even really know what it was that was different about me, I just knew that I didn’t fit in. I felt as if I didn’t deserve to fit in. The older I got, the more intense these feelings got. And I started taking it out on myself. I started hating myself. And I really mean furiously hating myself. It wasn’t some casual self-loathing, it was searing self-hatred. I did not physically hurt myself, but I did engage with self-harm. I kept repeating the mantras of “I hate myself,” and “I am pathetic,” over and over again, with the ultimate goal of making myself cry. For a period, I couldn’t go to bed without making myself cry first. I began taking days off from school, pretending to be sick. Well, I suppose I was ill, but not physically. I began failing most of my classes, I only ended up doing well in art. I stayed away from school for whole weeks at the time. Once, when I shame-facedly returned to school some of the meaner boys came up to me and said that they were surprised to learn that I was still alive. They were surprised, but also a little disappointed.

This was a time in my life when I really needed psychiatric care. This became increasingly obvious to my parents, and my teachers. I was clearly suffering from depression. Not just some teenaged angst, but full-blown, wholly insidious, depression. But, well, I didn’t get the care that I needed. Oh, I did go to see a psychologist a couple of times, but she saw no reason for me to continue seeing her. I don’t know why she felt as if I wasn’t in need of help, frankly, I can’t fathom why she felt as if I wasn’t in need of help. I suppose I avoided telling her the truth of what went on inside of my head, but I feel like as if any good psychologist would have been able to tell that the kid sitting across from them was clearly suffering from something a tad more intense than just some common concerns about puberty. At most I was able to confess was that I was feeling ashamed over myself for getting so fat, but it should have been clear to anybody that I was only using that as a hook to hang my self-hatred on. There very clearly was some underlying condition that I had that should have gotten addressed. But it went ignored.

At most I can think to explain this is the fact that I wasn’t “problematic.” Not in the way some kids are, when they’re struggling with their mental health. I did not act out, I did not take drugs, and I was certainly not violent. Even to this day, though I have at many times suffered from suicidal ideation, I am a real low-risk for actual suicide considering my intense fear of dying (yes, that’s an odd combo to have.) So, I’ve come to realise that the only way I am getting treatment is if I actually seek out treatment. And back then, I was just as placid as I had previously always been. I was quiet and introverted, just desperate to get back home so I could go and hide in my room. Many teenagers are like that. And it is easy to ignore them, because they want to be ignored. They just don’t want to exist. When you are desperate to be left alone, eventually people will leave you alone. I would go on to receive psychiatric care later on my life, but only after several years passed. I did have a better time living in my later teenage years, but like with a bone that heals wrong, I needed someone to come in and sort me out. I was sad as a teenager, but I would become really sad as a twenty-something. Hopefully my thirties will be jolly.

#neurodiversity #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health

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jaskiers-sweetkiss · 4 years

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Sunset Swerve - Part 2

Pairing: Luke x OC

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: one character has a panic attack, mentions of death (specifically death of self and death of family members)

A/N: Here’s part two! We’re still in episode 2 but I had some more things I needed to establish about Jordan before we could get to the Bright performance and I’m kinda liking the shorter chapters for this. Let me know what you think and send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged!

Part 1 Masterlist

___

“Why are you in a cemetery?” Alex asked when he finally found Jordan.

The dark-haired girl was sitting on the ground facing away from him with her knees pulled up to her chest.

“I was hoping my grave would absorb me so I wouldn’t have to deal with whatever the hell this is.” She didn’t even turn to acknowledge the boy’s arrival, her eyes still trained on the tombstone in front of her.

“Huh,” Alex said under his breath, lost for words. “I figured you’d, like, go to your parents’ house or something, someplace familiar. We went to the Orpheum our first night.”

“That’s kinda depressing,” Jordan remarked, her tone emotionless as she stared straight ahead.

“Says the girl literally sitting on her grave.”

Jordan cracked a smile at that.

“There’s room for two if you don’t mind getting your pants dirty,” she offered, shifting her bag to the side to make room. “Is that even possible anymore?”

Alex shook his head, taking a seat beside her, arms wrapped around his knees as he mirrored her position. “Reggie sat in the sand at the beach today and didn’t have any issues.”

Jordan sighed, “Well, I guess that’s one pro to being a ghost, no sand where sand shouldn’t be.”

Alex laughed and Jordan turned her head slightly to look at him.

“So they sent you, huh?”

“Nah,” Alex breathed, “I volunteered.”

Jordan cocked her head, looking at him fully now. “Why?”

“I don’t know…. You just seemed overwhelmed and I figured Luke wasn’t gonna help any.”

Jordan nodded, turning back towards her tombstone. It was unnerving to look at, her name carved into the stone even though she was still walking, talking, living. At least that’s what it felt like, but she knew that six feet below her was her body, probably very decomposed by now and oh my god- Jordan started to shake, her thoughts becoming more panicked.

“Woah, hey, Jordan are you okay?” Alex asked, alarmed by the sudden change in her demeanor. Her breaths were becoming shorter and more frequent and she was practically vibrating with the way she was shaking.

She shook her head in response to Alex’s question, unable to tear her eyes away from her name. “I can’t breathe she gasped,” which only caused more panic from her. “Ghosts can’t breathe, why-“ A sob wracked through her, cutting her off.

“We gotta get you out of here,” Alex muttered, wrapping his arms around her and poofing them out.

They landed with a light thud on the floor of the garage and Alex pulled himself away from the now crying girl.

“Okay, Jordan, can you look at me?” Alex asked softly, moving to sit cross-legged in front of her. “Okay, let’s do a breathing square, yeah? Breathe in on the up, breathe out on the down, and hold in between okay?”

He started drawing slow squares in the air with his finger and repeating the instructions as he went. It was a couple of minutes still before the girl’s breaths became somewhat regular.

“Good, okay. Now name five things you can see.”

“Rug, coffee table, piano, you, window.” She answered through shaky breaths.

“Alright now four things you can feel?”

“I can’t feel anything!” She snapped, panic starting to well up again.

“Hey, hey, that’s not true,” Alex soothed, placing his hand in hers. “You can feel me, right?”

Jordan nodded and took another shaky breath before continuing.

“Okay, um, you, the ground, I can feel my shoes? And my bag?” She said unsure.

“Yeah, it doesn’t make much sense but yeah,” Alex affirmed. “Three things you can hear?”

“You, the air conditioning, and myself.” She answered faster and more confidently.

“Two things you can smell.”

“Uh, fret polish and dust.”

“Good. One thing you can taste.”

“I don’t know what the inside of my mouth tastes like right now but I’m glad it’s not poisonous hot dogs.” She answered, letting out a genuine sigh of relief.

Alex smiled.

“How’re you feeling?” He asked after a moment, lightly squeezing the hand that he was still holding.

“Uh, better. Still kinda shaky.” Jordan laughed awkwardly, pulling her hand away to play with the hair ties around her other wrist. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing.” Alex waved it off and Jordan rolled her eyes. “I get it, y’know? I mean, I cried for twenty-five years. That’s one hell of a breakdown.”

Jordan laughed for real at that and Alex joined in, the pair sharing an understanding smile.

“Oh hey, you’re back!” Reggie exclaimed as he poofed back into the garage, “Ooh, are we sitting on the floor?” He gasped excitedly before plopping down next to the pair.

Jordan tilted her head and narrowed her eyes curiously at the boy. The three of them sat in silence for a minute, Jordan and Alex staring at Reggie while the dark-haired boy grinned contently.

“So, why are we sitting on the floor?” Reggie finally asked, breaking the silence and Alex sighed while Jordan barked out a laugh.

“We just felt like it,” she lied and Reggie shrugged, seemingly content with that answer. “Where’s Luke?”

“I dunno,” Reggie shrugged. “He left a little bit after you guys did.”

Jordan nodded and stood up, dusting off her pants before remembering she didn’t have to do that anymore, and headed for the door with Alex following suit.

“Wait, where are you going?” Reggie questioned, not quite catching on as he scrambled to his feet.

“Seriously man?” Alex raised his eyebrows at the other boy.

“Ohhh, to find Luke, right,” Reggie realized and Alex rolled his eyes following Jordan through the garage door.

Jordan turned around as she stepped through the door, thinking decidedly that she’d need to get used to that because it was really weird. In her distraction, she had stopped paying attention to where she was going and ended up walking right into the boy she was looking for.

As she stumbled backward, her hands reached out for something to grab onto, landing on his shoulders while his arm instinctively grabbed her waist, pulling her against his chest. Jordan was certain they’d never been this close to each other before and as she looked up at his face she could see the rings of gold around his pupils, the creases around his eyes and mouth from smiling, the slight dryness of chapped lips. When her gaze returned to his eyes she found them peering into her own and she swallowed roughly at the intensity of his gaze.

After what felt like an eternity but was realistically only a few seconds, Luke cleared his throat, averting his eyes and stepping away from Jordan and she did the same, trying desperately to fight the heat in her cheeks.

“Oh, hey! You found Luke!” Reggie exclaimed as he and Alex stepped out of the garage.

“Uh, yeah! He just got back?” Jordan responded, looking anywhere but at Luke as she stepped further away.

“Yeah, sorry about just disappearing,” Luke apologized. “I just needed some air.”

Reggie nodded, accepting the excuse at face value but Alex looked between the two skeptically, clearly noticing something that Reggie hadn’t.

“I wonder what Ray is up to today?” Reggie thought aloud, his mind clearly having wandered.

“Who’s Ray?” Jordan asked Alex in a whisper, watching as Reggie stared thoughtfully at the home.

“It’s Julie’s dad,” Alex answered and Jordan just looked more confused.

“Okay, who’s Julie?” She asked, brows raised expectantly.

“Oh, right! She’s the girl who brought us back. She can see us,” Alex summarized quickly and Jordan nodded.

“And her family lives here now?” She asked, gathering up the context clues and Alex nodded.

“So when do I get to meet her?”

“Uh, well, she’s at school right now,” Alex explained.

“She’s trying to get back into her music program,” Luke added in, and Jordan jumped slightly, not expecting the boy to interact with her. “That girl is wicked talented.”

The boys began to explain the rest to her as they followed Reggie who had started wandering up to the house.

Somehow they had ended up in Julie’s bedroom, the four ghosts scattered around the immaculately decorated space.

“You understand that this is incredibly invasive, right?” Jordan questioned as she sat in the corner while the guys poked and prodded through Julie’s bedroom.

Jordan hadn’t met the girl yet, but she was pretty sure she wouldn’t want them in her room, especially not trying to rifle through her belongings like Luke was.

“She said we could stay here,” Luke defended, climbing up on a stool to get a closer look at one of Julie’s shelves.

“She said you could be in her bedroom and go through all her stuff?” Jordan asked skeptically, crossing her arms over her chest and raising a brow to express her disbelief.

“Well… We…” Luke fumbled and Jordan rolled her eyes.

“So you have no excuse.”

“What? don’t tell me you’re not curious,”

“Curious? Yes. Rude? No.” Jordan quipped and Luke rolled his eyes.

Fortunately, before the two could get into another fight, the door opened and a girl who couldn’t have been much younger than any of them walked in. Based on the photos placed around the room and the context of their location Jordan assumed it must’ve been Julie.

“What are you guys doing in my room?” She gasped, clearly angry and Jordan smirked at Luke triumphantly.

The guys all started speaking with various “Umm’s” and ‘Uhhh’s” all trying to come up with an excuse before Luke, frozen in place atop the ottoman, said, “We were looking for the kitchen.”

Jordan rolled her eyes at the terrible excuse and Julie did the same.

“This… This can’t happen, it’s creepy,” Julie said, staring pointedly at the boys as she waved her fingers, before adding to Reggie, “Get off my bed please.”

As Reggie scrambled off of the bed Luke turned the attention back to himself as he raised his hand, “Hey Julie, what’s in the box?”

“That’s off-limits.”

“Oh, okay, girl stuff,” Luke replied, smiling as if he understood and Reggie jumped in excitedly,

“Ooh, like butterflies and glitter?”

“Oh c’mon,” Alex groaned.

“You guys are idiots,” Jordan stated at the same time, rolling her eyes.

“Woah! Who said you could invite ghost friends to my house?” The girl exclaimed, apparently just noticing Jordan’s presence.

“Well, we didn’t invite her exactly,” Alex started before Luke took over.

“We kinda summoned her this morning while you were at school.” He lifted his hands as if to say ‘oops?’ “Like how you accidentally summoned us yesterday.”

“You summoned a ghostly stranger to my house?!” Julie exclaimed, becoming gradually more heated.

“Jordan isn’t a stranger!” Reggie piped up, “She died with us!”

“So how come she didn’t come back with you guys?”

“Cause I wasn’t part of Dumb-set Curve,” Jordan answered and Luke glared at her for mocking their band.

“At least we were better than Asshole 81,” He shot back and Alex and Reggie sighed.

“Real clever,” Jordan scoffed, “How long have you been holding onto that one? Twenty-five years?”

“They’ve kinda always had this rivalry,” Alex explained to Julie as Luke and Jordan continued to bicker in the background. “Jordan was the leader of our rival band, Apollo 81.”

Julie sighed, mumbling a sarcastic “Great,” as she watched the two, their faces now inches away from one another as they hurled insults back and forth.

“Hey! I picked something up!” Alex said excitedly, effectively gaining everyone’s attention as he walked towards the bed, picture frame in his hands before his concentration slipped and it fell, landing softly on Julie’s comforter. “I dropped it.”

“Is that your mom?” Luke asked, leaning over Alex to get a look at the photo.

“Yes, and it’s my favorite picture of us so if you break it, I’ll break you.” Julie threatened, snatching the frame up from the bed and placing it on her nightstand.

“Okay, well, sorry cause we’re kinda unbreakable at this point,” Alex pointed out.

“I don’t get it, you guys can mess up my bed, pick up your instruments, but you can’t pick up other stuff?”

“I know, right? It’s hard, but for some reason our instruments are easy.” Luke elaborated and Jordan frowned thoughtfully, all of this new information to her.

“Yeah, super easy! Check out what I learned today!” Reggie said, standing excitedly only to fall back down as his bass appeared on top of him.

“I’m sorry, we can summon our instruments?” Jordan asked incredulously.

The guys all nodded, Reggie explaining that you just had to wish for it. Jordan closed her eyes, concentration on the first instrument of hers she could think of. She gasped at the impact as suddenly she was gripping her electric cello.

“You play the cello?” Julie asked, sounding confused.

“I was classically trained,” Jordan explained, “But when we started Apollo 81 I taught myself electric, amongst other instruments. We were working on incorporating the cello into some of our songs before I, y’know…”

“What other instruments can you play?” Julie asked curiously and Luke groaned.

“Ignore him, he’s just upset because he knows I’m more talented than he is,” Jordan waved the boy off and Luke glared.

“Just because you can play more instruments than me doesn’t make you more talented,” He spoke, “Quantity doesn’t trump quality.”

Jordan just rolled her eyes before turning back to Julie, “I can play just about every string instrument you can name - I grew up taking violin lessons before moving on to cello. I can also play piano and in middle school band I played the saxophone.”

“Wow, that’s impressive,” Julie nodded and Jordan smiled at the praise.

Luke huffed, reclaiming the room’s attention as he stepped back onto the ottoman.

“Julie,” he whined, gesturing to the box.

“Oh my gosh, I thought I told you to leave that alone!” The girl exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest sternly.

“I know, and you should’ve just said nothing cause now I can’t stop thinking about it, so… What’s in the box, Julie?”

“It’s just my dream box, okay!” She gave in. “Whenever I get a thought or something, I write it down and get it out of my mind.”

“Like lyrics?”

“They would be if I still wrote music like I used to with my mom,” Julie sighed, looking down to avoid their eyes. “Now it’s just full of stuff that doesn’t make me sad.”

“But you do play,” Alex said and Julie snapped her head up to stare at him. “We heard you this morning.”

Jordan narrowed her eyes in confusion, having not been “alive” (for lack of a better word) that morning.

“In the garage?!”

Luke jumped down from the ottoman to hit Alex’s shoulder, silently admonishing him for revealing that information.

“You were there?”

The guys once again stumbled for a response, their voice shooting up an octave or two.

“So, where is your kitchen, by the way?” Luke asked, diving onto the bed and staring up at Julie, doing his best to distract her.

“Okay,” she began, leaning down to meet his eye level. “We need to set some boundaries. For starters, stay out of my room!” She said angrily, pointing towards the door and the guys stumbled over each other to leave.

Jordan paused before she walked out, something on her mind as she examined the girl in front of her.

“Can I ask what happened to your mom?” She asked softly, “It’s okay if its too personal-“

“No, it’s fine, the guys already know,” Julie waved her off, sighing sadly, “She passed a year ago.”

Jordan bobbed her head slightly to herself at the answer. “I’m really sorry, it sounds like she meant a lot to you.”

Julie nodded, “She did.”

“I know how hard that can be,” Jordan opened up, “If you ever need someone to talk to I’m here.”

She didn’t stay any longer, not wanting to make things awkward. When she walked through the door she ran straight into Alex who had apparently turned back around. Jordan flushed, eyes widening as she wondered if he had heard any of their conversation but he looked just as surprised to see her still there as she did him. She gave him a tight-lipped smile before poofing back to the garage.

___

Part 3

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #jatp 1x02 #luke jatp #jatp luke #luke patterson #luke x oc #luke patterson x oc #jatp oc #ghost oc #alex mercer #jatp alex #reggie peters #jatp reggie #julie melina #enemies to lovers #jatp fic #luke patterson fic

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radioactive-synth · 3 years

Text

random oc fact: about Olivia 'Libby' Zander:

under read more ‘cause its long

- born in 16 march 2019. parents originally from Cyprus, they moved in America before Olivia was born. has a younger sister named Helen. their mother died of an incurable disease when Olivia was 4 yrs old, Helen was 2 yrs old. Theodore, their dad, needed to raise them on his own and work to provide for them

- usually a more lonely wolf, she focused on her studies than to get out in world. during college, she went to a party held on Harvester Day (i guess) and met Ryan Hudson (7-8 yrs older than her) who back then, was a officer in the army and was charming and very kind. they had fun at the party and kept contact. she also met Michael Hudson, Ryan's brother.

- her dad, who was a very kind, but unphased man, was not so glad that her daughter started to date a soldier, or how he called him, military dog. he had a bad feeling towards Ryan, and even asked Olivia if she is sure or even should consider the other Hudson brother (he liked Michael more than Ryan). in the end, he gave up and let them marry, with the condition that Olivia keeps her last name, and any offspring they will have, all will have the last name Zander. Theodore considered that the Hudson name is too american.

- she got married when she was 24 years old, right after she graduated college

- almost 2 yrs before she had her son, Olivia has stepped in to help raise her nephew, Vincent Hudson, as his mother didnt cared at all, and Michael was away on his duty (was an army medic). taking care of Vincent made her wish to have her own child.

- she gave birth to her son, Vaughn Aleksandros Zander, when she was 26 yrs old, on 13 february 2045.

- in the first few years she has raised both boys on her own. her husband and her brother in law were away in their duty, while Vin's mother prefered to hang out with her friends than to take care of her son. when Vaughn was around 5 years old, Olivia took a job as pharmacist on night shift. she also taught both boys how to cook.

- when Vin was around 10 yrs old, his mother left the Hudson family for her boss and took Michael's car and money. he needed to go one more time in the army, then retired to take a postman job, so he can take care of his son. Olivia had expected this thing from her ex sister in law, and felt sorry for Michael. even that her husband disapproved, Olivia had helped Michael with money until he got up on his feet.

- Olivia and Michael are very close, and she stays more with him than with her own (mostly absent) husband. at some point, Michael started to have feelings for her, but never acted on her, as he waited for her first.

- continued her job as pharmacist, even taking extra shifts so she can afford books and everything Vaughn needed for his studies.

- when her nephew was drafted in the army, she was terrified for him, then faked her son's medical documents, making him unfit for drafting. she knew it was illegal and risked prison for doing this, but she couldnt let her son be drafted too.

- she had not knew anything on how her husband treated their son. she noticed that Ryan became cold and distant, but had no idea how he emotionally and physically abused Vaughn. her son didnt said anything about it as he knew that without Ryan's money they couldnt get by, but after 2 yrs when he got a job too, Vaughn said everything. in 2071, just before Ryan left again in his duty, Olivia divorced of him, and even wanted to move out of the flat with her son. a few weeks pass, and they get the news that Ryan was killed in an ambush. Olivia and Vaughn were happy to hear about and that they can keep the flat, but felt bad for Michael. a week pass, and get the news that Vin was also killed on the battlefield, which ruins them. they tried to take care of Michael, but he died of heartattack 2 weeks later. to make things way worst, Vaughn lost his job at the clinic as the army took it under their control.

- Eleanora Foster, who was dating Vaughn since his college years, had helped him with his depression, taking him out more the house. Olivia was heartbroken but continued to work. both her and her son barely could get by with money. Nora's parents worked in administration, and her father managed to get Vaughn a job as family doctor in the Medical Bay Center. in 2074, Vaughn married Nora. her family also bought them the house in Sanctuary and Codsworth.

- she wanted to get her dad and sister to her son's wedding, but they could not afford the tickets, and also her dad was sick. Olivia could not afford either to go visit them, and was heartbroken. she wished her dad and sister would finally meet Vaughn (as they moved out in Cyprus when Olivia married, so they never met Vaughn), but her son told her that as long as he has her, its all that matters.

- in the year 2077, Nora had bought tickets for Vaughn and Olivia so they can visit their family in Cyprus for christmas and new years. the tickets were never used.

- had survived during the bombs, and after being locked in her flat for 3 weeks, she finally made courage to get out. she took a gas mask, a chest combat armor and a laser pistol (the only things from Ryan that she didnt sold) and got out. she was terrified how people were killing each other or barely living. she got in Sanctuary, but found Codsworth that was malfunctioning. she tried to get to the vault, but was stopped. hoping her son and his family are safe, she went back into the house and took any remaining food and supplies. she then went back to her flat and took some things with her: a backpack, clothes, food, medical supplies and photos with her family. she knew she must find a way to survive.

- she found a group of survivors that didnt shot her on sight. with time, they all transformed in ghouls. despite the radiation that changed her body, her eyes remained the same. she lost her hair, but found a wig that she dyed in her natural hair color, and tied in the same manner her son has: ronin bun.

- they became scavengers and traders. Olivia was also a medic and helped people if needed. not many people were used to ghouls yet, so they were marginalised a lot, or in worst cases, being shot at. there were also times when Olivia had ate nothing but drank alcohol to survive.

- she only presents herself as Libby, as it was the nickname that Michael and Vin called her

- she was never interested in any other romantic relationships. years ago, she realised too late that she really felt so close to Michael. she also thinks that she is asexual, as she never felt any interest in sex.

- after a few decades, Olivia split from her group as they were not aggreing that she was giving out free supplies. she was on her own for a few weeks, until she found Nix, a grieving mongrel mother who lost her cubs and was injured. she seen the scattered dead puppies and the crying mongrel and took care of her. Olivia knew what Nix feels, and the dog decided to stay with her. since then, Nix was her only friend.

- they travelled across America, doing trades, helping out, Olivia also teaching medical stuff to other people, helping children. she also helped new mothers delivering babies, installing new trading routes, and settling down arguments between groups of people.

- she became an excelent sniper, and she and Nix worked efficient in team

- she always had her family in her thoughts, and especially her son and nephew, and talked about them proudly. at some point, she thought that even Vin was her son, but remembered she gave birth once, and was 3 yrs difference between the boys.

- she also met my other ocs: my Vault Dweller, Nonè Smith, Chosen One Clovers Smith, Tamir (when she was 10 yrs old) and Gabriella Abbey, my Lone Wanderer.

- she also met mayor MacCready, after he nearly shot Nix. Olivia was more impressed by the kid than upset, and decided that she can help them out. she gave them supplies, helped them out, and all she wanted was to trade stories. despite MacCready's constant insults, they were good friends. he never forgot her kindness.

- around 2288, she hears stories about General Zander and how he saved the Commonwealth. she got interested to see who has her last name. she had no hope that it was her son, but one of the descendants.

- first arrived in Goodneighor and met Daisy, and got info on where to find General Zander

- reunited with her son in Sanctuary, and also met Oliver, her grandson, before being introduced to the Sanctuary family. also reunited with MacCready, and was so happy to see him ending up well and with his son Duncan

- she finally retires and becomes the mama and grandma she missed so much. in present, she moved into Vaughn's old house, which she decorated it. she takes care of the kids, spends time with her son and her new family. she loves Nick and Hancock and sees how good are for his son. she also organize their wedding.

- usually a very cheerful person, she has a certain sad look in her eyes at times. yet if she is asked if she is ok, she will smile and say that she is ok.

- shocks her son by drinking alcohol and smoking and even swearing, as she never done these things pre war. but overall, Vaughn still sees her as the mom he knew.

#oc olivia zander #fallout #fallout oc #fallout ocs #ghoul oc #fallout 4 #fo oc

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softboyscully · 4 years

Text

Public School Stuff I Wanted to Share

public school is both beautiful and horrifying am i right

so ill just go by the grades i guess

Kindergarten, first year

i did kindergartden at a catholic school in a relativly big city so this one’s got some shit

we went to church every wednesday, me and best friend (lost track of her when we moved, wish we’d stayed in touch, she was awesome) would giggle the whole time, pretty sure we made fun of jesus once, can’t remember why, possibly the hair

i had the nicest teacher, she was (as i remember her) young, blonde, and super sweet, that was the first and last year i ever had naptime

SPEAKING of naptime

i never slept during it

once i found what i remember being a nut of some sort on the ground, probably came off someone’s shoe

i grab it, turn to sarah (my best friend), say something about putting it up my nose

sarah, apparently having common sense, says, “no dont do it!! we’re supposed to be sleeping!!”

i put it up my fucking nose

try to get it out, just push it farther in

im crying a little bit now, that shit hurts

go up to my teacher

“you’re supposed to be asleep!”

“i have a nut up my nose and it wont come out”

teacher tries to get it out, but it wont budge

just. sends me back to my mat

that was it

the art room was tiny

like re-purposed broom closet tiny

there was a copy of the mona lisa in the hallway, someone had drawn ray bans on it with a pencil, never got replaced

there was a creepy-ass basement i went down to after school, we ate cheeseballs and sandwiches with some kind of meat, mayo, and that kinda yellow bread

someone broke his leg down there once, think an older kid threw him at the ceiling or something

we learned how to play Silver Bells with actual bells in music class

Kindergarten, second year

i remember these two teachers as the evil step sister-type look, but it might be my little kid imagination

but seriously they were horrible

we learned stuff in a room that was more middle-school styled, except everything was green or black and it was v dark

me and sarah attained a new friend, john

honestly i think we would’ve stayed friends for a while if i didnt move away

i have two vivid memories

one is of me really wanting to go home, so i walked by the teacher’s desk and did a fake sneeze

they laughed at me and told me to go sit back down

the other is john leaning his chair back and then falling, so me and sarah went to help him back up

it was funny, so he did it again

and again

me and sarah were laughing, had the time of our lives

after the maybe fifth time the teachers said “john can get back up by himself. sit down and stay there.”

one of the reasons we moved was bc i got sent a letter from my fourth grade buddie

most of the words weren’t spelled correctly, many letters were backwards

my mother was horrified

ofc now we know it was probably a learning disability

1st grade

this is when i moved

beginning of school i was ASTOUNDED we didnt have uniforms, one of the best things ever to happen to me

nothing wrong with this teacher, she was cool

thing is i was a little shit

told everyone my dogs died (they did but i was maybe three when it happened, i remember it not)

all my personal narratives were bullshit (only one sticks in my memory, wrote it about celebrating christmas AND hanukkah with my dad’s friends who were jewish, i have never even met those friends)

had a crush on this kid, best friend (she was terrible and helped wreck me emotionally) told me to kiss him in music class. me being a stupid ass bitch, i did it, aND HE GOES TO THE TEACHER AND CALLS ME OUT. at the end of class she gets both of us to stay for a bit, AND I DENYIED EVERYTHING. i walked across the fucking classroom, kissed him on the cheek, ran away giggling, told my teacher i didn’t do anything, AND GOT AWAY WITH IT. i’ve embarrassed myself further with this child but thats another story

2nd grade

i loved this teacher but honestly he was absolute shit

like. all he did was play the guitar and sing with us

never actually taught us stuff???

middle of the year, my mom goes in for a parent-teacher conference, he tells her i dont pay attention is math.

“what do you mean?”

“she doesn’t listen, she just takes out a book and starts reading.”

“........have you.... tried taking the book away?”

“sure, i could try that.”

“o....kay”

he also told her i’d be a girl who’d grow up to love spellcheck (which i do lmao)

like ???? why not just??? teach me to spell????

there was this one dude who one day showed up, gave me a pink stuffed cat, and then asked me where i lived

funniest thing was he lived on the same street as me

something that is vivid in my memory is showing up to class one day and realizing that i was wearing my regular clothes over my pajamas

also we had fish

every day someone else was in charge of feeding them

one of the times it was my job, i grab the fish food and walk over to the tank only to find all of the fish floating on the top

i screamed “THE FISH CAN FLY?!?!?!?!?!”

everyone ran over, all of us scarred for life when Mr. G walks over and goes in the most normal voice ever “no theyre dead”

we held a funeral

the cause of death is still undetermined

3rd grade

this year just draws a blank for me

all i know is that whoever the teacher was, they neglected to teach me how to tell time from a clock

also we learned the Cotten Eyed Joe dance in gym around here

4th grade

i had two teachers this year

one was the same one from 1st grade, the other one was a total bitch

made a girl named hannah ball her eyes out once, never apologized

i was (and am) and avid reader, so my reading skills were high above average

instead of being proud of me she told me i was weird, not normal, and too smart for a 4th grader, so i MUST be cheating.

she was the start of a lot of self confidence issues for me ngl

this was around the time i went and got tested for ADHD (me and my grandmother almost broke down on the highway but thats another story), Mrs. M (the nice one) was super supportive when i told her why i was leaving early but Ms. S (bitch) told me ADHD wasn’t real and i just wanted to be special for once

she sucked, Ms. S

5th grade

this is getting super long so this’ll be the last one i do

but my teacher..... Mr. F was A+++++

he legitimately taught me math

we had i guess like,,, a buddie class we switched with sometimes

the teacher of that class was Mrs. R, who had crazy red hair and many freckles

at one point she referenced a meme and my entire class started screaming

also there was another Mrs. S (to differentiate this one will be called Mrs. Su)

she was kind of crazy

she was the astronomy teacher and she told us many times that the moon landing was faked

once she handed out sunscreen and had everyone put it on their whole body (this was in december, fyi)

Mr. F also hosted an ‘archeological dig’ which sounds cool but in reality he had a bunch of arcade prizes from his childhood buried in little flower pots we dug into with plastic spoons

also heres some stuff i cants pinpoint the time of/happened in multiple grades:

someone held a who-can-scream-the-most-like-a-goat contest

a guy named Makenzie won

remember we planned it while the teacher left the classroom so the teacher walks back in and one by one everyone in the room starts screaming, there was some applause, a few kids got a standing ovation

we cleaned out our desks in the middle of the year, i found 3 socks and a dog treat in mine

like how the fuck did any of those things get there

and where’s the fourth sock

b o t t l e f l i p p i n g

but no seriously there were at least five water bottles stuck in the ceiling in the cafeteria

my sorta friend charlie was obsessed with paper airplanes

one time he might’ve broken the world record for longest time in the air but he was counting in his head and it was at recess so there was no video

four square and gaga ball would be played no matter the setting, time, or conditions and it was super competitive

like if you could get to king in four square you got the everlasting respect of everyone

and everyone was super educated on four square special rules, special plays, that kinda shit

no but guys i grew up with bus stop, candy store, haunted house on mondays, haunted mansion on fridays, zombies was fair game unless it was Zach, Ryan, Chrissy or Vee

me and one other guy named andrew were the only known pjo fans, had the time of our LIVES making refrences

“HEY ANDREW IM NOBODY”

“I HAVE WAITED YEARS FOR YOU, NOBODY, COME HERE AND FACE YOUR DEATH”

“hey annabeth, i thought you looked like a princess when i first saw you. i printed out a picture you sent me casually and kept it with me. i snuck along on a quest so i could save you, endangering myself immensely. i held the sky for you. when you talk about your crush on luke, i get jealous. beckendorf understood, but hes dead.”

“ikr we’re literally the best of friends”

“RIGHT”

also the first time we finished mark of athena we were in the same classroom and we individually dropped the book, stood up, looked at each other, and screamed “WELL FUCK YOU TOO RICK RIORDAN”

#public school #percy jackson #percabeth #my childhood #you dont have to read this but i felt like posting it lol #if you've read this far #i applaud you #thanks for listening to my meaningless shit #im gonna be a comedian #school #school stories #adhd #kind of

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #384

“watch your tongue or have it cut from your head”

Do you post to say happy birthday on other people’s walls? Sometimes. Depends on my mood and the person. When was the last time you saw a rainbow? Idr. What’s your favorite television commercial? I don't watch TV enough at all to have one. And who has a favorite commercial, anyway? Do you trip a lot? I don't really trip a lot, but kinda fumble over my footing and stray a bit. I'm horrible at walking straight, and it's gotten worse as my legs have. How old is your television? The one in the living room is god knows how old. My parents were still together when they bought it. When did you last talk on the phone with someone? A couple days ago for my appointment with my psychiatrist. Are you currently sleepy? I'm quite convinced I'm permanently tired. Are you hot or cold natured? I am ALWAYS fucking hot, ugh. Do you take any advanced classes? I took mostly Honors classes in school. Do you have weak upper body strength? My body is just weak as a whole. What is the worst insult someone can call you? Emotionally weak. Are you good at sketching? If we're talking meerkats, haha. They're the only complex thing that I can freehand no problem without needing a reference, honestly. Ever play Angry Birds? Nah. I thought the movie was cute, though. Have you ever been to the zoo before? Yeah. Has anyone ever been weirdly obsessed with you? No. Are you afraid someone might steal your identity someday? It's not something I actively worry about at all. Like, you don't want my identity, I promise. Do you have any talents that come naturally? Growing up, adults always told me I was a "gifted" artist and writer. Also that I seem to have an unnaturally strong connection with animals. I've always been that person where a pet's owner is like "omg ____ never lets people do that" and whatnot. Have you ever had plastic surgery before? I haven't. It's funny though, how opposed to it I used to be... Like goddamn, I was such a fucking stupid and honestly judgmental teenager, regarding many things. I look back on her and cringe. Like damn dude, if you have a safe surgical procedure to help you enjoy the body you're stuck with the rest of your life, you go for it, boo. Are you afraid of airplane rides? Not really. What’s the best Valentine’s Day gift you’ve gotten? There was this one year where Jason had to go to work on Valentine's Day and I was super bummed, yet he still surprised me with a heart-shaped box of chocolates, roses, and a game I really wanted, Heavy Rain. I thought it was the sweetest. What is something you lose often? My phone. ;-; Do you enter a lot of sweepstakes? I don't enter any. Do you consider yourself physically active? *chuckles nervously* Do you have Netflix? Yeah. Favorite salad dressing? That Olive Garden replica you can buy at the store. Do you enjoy dancing? Once upon a time I did. My body could never handle it now. Have you ever considered writing a novel? Many times. Snow or sand? Snow, by twenty thousand miles. It is VERY hard for me to walk through sand, and I also hate hate hate hate HATE the sensation. Do you like sour candy? Heeeeeell yeah man. Have you gotten any injuries lately? If so, what & how? Nothing notable. Are you a clumsy person? Like you would not fucking believe. Last male you talked to in person? I think my primary physician's nurse. Are you thinking about asking anyone out? No. Pink lemonade or regular lemonade? Pink lemonade, for sure. But I love both. Chocolate or strawberry milk? CHOCOLATE. Strawberry milk is disgusting. Have you ever won a contest on the radio?No. Is there a song that reminds you of your best friend? There's quite a few. Has a book ever made you cry? Yes. Do you automatically check your phone when you wake up? Yes, for the time. Do you know anyone who has a pet bunny? Not that I'm aware. What store or website would you most like a gift card for? Rebel's Market. How do you feel about wolves? I adore wolves. Beautiful, majestic creatures with very interesting social dynamics. Name your top 3 favorite musical instruments. Electric guitar, violin, piano. What was the last book(s) you bought at a bookstore? At an actual bookstore, I think it was The Fault In Our Stars, which I never actually read. Do you use Pinterest? Yes. Do you know any sign language? No. Do you have a favorite poem? No. Do you have a dog? No. The one we were pretty much stuck with has a home now. Have you ever read The Little House on the Prairie series? I haven't. Have you ever gone on a service trip to an underprivileged country? No. Have you ever performed in front of more than 100 people? Yes, for dance. When (if ever) was the last time you went to church? Forever ago, I don't even remember the last time. What's a quote you think is really powerful? There's a whole lot. The first one that came to mind was, "An eye for an eye will leave the world blind," which I do believe has great depth in it. Have you ever had to do your laundry at a laundromat? Yes. Are you the oldest person who lives in your household? No. My mom is turning 60 (... I think?) this year. If you have tattoos, how long have you had them? I got my first the day I turned 18. Do you and your dad have similar personalities? We're alike in some ways, imo most notably in that we have NO fucking common sense, embarrassing as that is to admit. We're both kinda slow at understanding things, too. What were the last three things you had to drink? Mountain Lightning, milk, and water. What did your family usually do for Easter when you were a kid? Us three kids all got Easter baskets full of stuff, and we'd go egg-hunting when we were all awake. My little sister Nicole would always wake our parents up in excitement, haha. My parents hid plenty throughout the house, and there was always this one "special" egg that was actually from Mom's childhood and was extremely intricate and beautiful. You basically "won" the hunt if you found it, and it was extremely well-hidden. When you have house guests over, where do they sleep? Historically since living here, my two half-sisters and their spouses (the only people who've stayed over) slept in what is *technically* Mom's room, but for whatever reason this woman still insists on sleeping on the couch in the living room, I guess because she's used to it after all the years she didn't have her own room and bed. Are you emotionally stable? LOLOOLOLOOLLOLOOLOOLOLLOOLOLLLLLLLLLLL Do you still talk to the very first person you had sex with? No. Are you an atheist? No. I don't quite know how to define what I am, but since I believe there's SOME higher power, I don't think it's fitting to call me an atheist. What’s the largest bug you’ve ever found in your house? Hm... I'm unsure. Probably a male mosquito, 'cuz them bitches are big'ins. Would it annoy you if a stranger called you "sweetie?" If it was a man, I'd be creeped out. Are you into fashion design? Not really. What’s the worst thing you’ve gone through in the past year? My leg muscles continuing to degrade, honestly. I have to do something about this shit. How did you get your last bruise? I fell when stepping over the stupid dog gate. Have your parents ever forgotten your birthday? Yikes, no. Would you rather have some bacon or beef jerky? Bacon. Do you like your orange juice with lots or no pulp? NONE. Do you wear skinny jeans? Back when I wore jeans, they were the only kind I wore. What projects are you doing now for school? I'm outta school. What’s the most number of comments you have on a Facebook picture? What is the picture of? I have no idea. Do you like coconut flavored things? No. Have you ever met a famous author before? No. Do you know anybody who has been raped before? No, thank god. I know someone who might've almost been, though. I don't know what the fucking pig was going to do to her if my sister and I weren't there. Have you ever wished for bigger boobs? No. Being overweight, I just want smaller ones now, haha. Have you ever gone a full day without interacting with another person? I've gone many days without it. How many relationships have you been in that lasted less than a year? Four, if you're counting everyone that had the "boyfriend" title. Where were you going the last time you were on a plane? Home from Illinois. Where were you going the last time you were on a train? I've never been on one. Have you ever been significantly more physically fit than you are now? Holy fuck, yes. You would never guess now that I was perfectly healthy in high school especially, yet I still thought I was kinda fat. It hurts so much to look back on. When growing up, did you parents keep the house very tidy? I mean not excessively, but Mom was pretty dedicated to keeping the house in decent condition. With three kids though, of course the house was somewhat messy with toys and all. When you shop at IKEA, do you always stop to eat a snack/meal in the cafeteria? ... There's a fucking cafeteria in a furniture store? o_o I've never been there before. How many watches do you own? None, save for one in my "treasure box" from when I was a kid. I was SO SO SO obsessed with Finding Nemo that I kept my broken one. I did the same with my horribly aged sneakers, like the soles were coming off and Mom finally made me stop wearing them, ha. Are there any ways in which you greatly differ from everyone else in your family? I do fucking nothing and am useless to society. Should teenagers be allowed to have their cell phones with them in class? Yes, because emergencies happen. I personally think it's best to maybe have your cell phone flipped over on the corner of your desk or something and on vibrate, that way the noise isn't too disruptive and the teacher can see you're not just using it for other purposes. Do you have any gay relatives? Yes. Have you ever had to have a pet put down? Sigh, multiple. Have you unfollowed, deleted, or blocked anyone on social media recently? If so, what was the reason? Not recently. How many cups of coffee do you typically drink per day? None. Do you know what your vocal range is? No, but it's not very broad. What’s the biggest financial mistake you’ve ever made? I haven't been in this position before. Have you ever been in a relationship where there was a large difference in maturity levels? No. What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed as a guest at someone’s house? I wanna say over a month while we were technically homeless. How bad was your acne when you were a teenager? Oh dear, it was rough. Like there were people who had it worse than me, but ya girl was lookin preeeetty rough lmao.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''hail to the king'' by avenged sevenfold

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